Nations were not supposed to fall in love.
It was ludicrous to believe that such a relationship would ever bring happiness. They had no say in their relations with others; their relations lied in the hands of their leaders. Whatever the government chose to do with its respective country was not up for discussion.
Love—it was a troublesome concept. Say a war broke out between the so-called lovers. What happened then?
All chance of intimacy would be completely ruined, England thought bitterly. He observed the way China held Hong Kong. One could see at first glimpse all the love China had for the boy. England didn't want to carry out his mission, given to him by his Queen, but he knew he must complete it. What I want matters not, he thought. It's for my country.
He cleared his throat, determined to carry out what he went there to do. "It is in your best interest to relinquish to Her Majesty the Queen of the United Kingdom of Great—"
"Shut up." China spat, holding Hong Kong close to his body. He was determined to protect him at all costs.
England made his way toward China, and for a moment, he saw the intent to kill in China's eyes. England tried his best to ignore it and snatched the boy from China's arms. He smirked when he saw that look in his eyes quickly change to panic.
"You can't have him!" England watched China's expression change yet again. They looked angry now, but helpless. England could not help but take pleasure in it, and he was disgusted with himself for doing so. He pet Hong Kong's head, making sure to give the boy some comfort, only infuriating China more.
"England..." China's voice trembled a little when he voiced his name, and he hated himself for showing vulnerability. "Why are you—?"
"What's done is done. We'll be taking our leave now." England firmly stated as he looked directly into China's eyes—those eyes that were stricken with a beautiful blend of rage and agony. He was in no mood for a confrontation. He only wished to have the deed done and get the hell out of there. He grabbed Hong Kong's hand, surprised that the boy made no effort to struggle out of his grasp.
"I hate you." China said through gritted teeth. He refused to cry or to show any emotion other than anger. After all, he still had his pride.
England noted the lack of hesitation in China's words. China meant it. England tried to ignore those bitter words, but they tore apart every muscle fiber in his heart.
His hands trembled as he pulled the boy along. Whether it was from the excitement of victory or from fear of being loathed forever, he did not know. All he knew was that China did not matter anymore; only the Empire mattered. It was how his mentality should have been from the beginning. Love— it was pointless for a nation.
Now, he would never be able to tell China of his dying adoration for the Asian country. He would never be able to look at him without feeling a physical sting in his chest for hurting him. He would never have the heart, or the courage, to tell him that he did not mean to take his precious little brother; it was done to please the Queen. But England knew in his divided heart that China would never believe his desperate apologies.
England refused to look back as he stole Hong Kong away from China. He couldn't see the pain in China's eyes nor the tears nor the hate, but he felt it.
China reached for Hong Kong in one last futile attempt to take him back, but he knew all too well that it was a useless effort. In mere seconds, the two figures were gone—out of his view, out of his life—at least for now.
~o~o~o~o~
Love was pointless for a nation. He had known that fact all along.
England felt an overwhelming surge of loneliness. This feeling was not a stranger to him. He had been lonely for most of his life, but he didn't care for it. England laughed to himself. He was the Great Empire, glorious in every way. Nothing and no one could stand in his way. Yet, he felt pitiful. The loneliness felt bitter and cold this time.
He glanced down at Hong Kong, who was once a part of China, but now belonged to the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. Hong Kong was the only connection he had to China. Hong Kong carried with him the memories and feelings that would taunt England for eternity. He would raise him well. It was the least he could do for China.
A stream of sorrow stained England's cheek, but he did not bother to wipe it away. He abruptly stopped at the entrance of his home. "This is your home now," he said to Hong Kong. "I will be your caretaker from now on."
A saddened smile formed on England's lips.
A/N: I never thought I'd publish any of my written work anywhere. I'm not into IggyChu much anymore, but I was pretty OBSESSED with it not long ago, and my very angsty heart produced this horribly cruel story XD;
I hope anyone who reads this story enjoyed it!