A/N: Please don't kill me for this ;-;
Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya, A.K.A. not me.
July 4th, 1776
Alfred left him.
Arthur couldn't do it—couldn't hurt the boy, no, man that he had raised as his brother.
Yet, he had become hurt.
Could Alfred know, could he possibly know how much he had hurt him?
His tears had melted into the rain as he sunk to the ground.
Alfred was free.
And Arthur was trapped by it.
How many years, how many fourth-of-July's had he spent, clutching a bottle with tears streaming free as
the alcohol?
How many times had he watched that git trample his feelings without even realizing it?
How often did he find himself drunk, sobbing, and crying out that wanker's name?
He wants to confess that his feelings may be more than brotherly, but what could happen...
Alfred could
A. Laugh it off
B. Not get the message
C. Break his heart
D. Requite them
E. Become disgusted with him
4:1... The bad defeat the good, like the Germans defeated the British...
He shouldn't dwell on that...
So, here he is again, curled up on the floor bathing in his own tears, clutching a bottle, with many more
empty ones around him.
Another July 4th
