Christmas, Together with You
The smell of burnt ginger bread, burnt turkey, and burnt cakes were drifting through little America's home. No matter how bad the burning smell or how messy the kitchen became, America didn't care. All the mattered was that England was over spending Christmas with him. It was the one holiday America looked forward to the most because he got to spend a whole week with England.
England would attempt to make a Christmas dinner with help from America as he tried to reach the top of the counter to hand him an ingredient. And every year they would go out into the woods next to America's home to find the biggest and best tree they could fit into the small house and England would carry America on his shoulders so he could put the star on the tree. America would dress in his best clothes and do anything he could to make England happy since he rarely got to see him these days. England had been very busy with work and didn't have much time for America anymore, although he wished he could with all his might. He really did hate leaving the poor boy alone for such lengthy amounts of time. So he always made sure to clear his schedule for the occasion no matter how much work he had piling up at home. The most important thing to the both of them was just to see the other smile. That's the only gift they needed.
Though times got tougher for England and in the coming years and he couldn't visit anymore, no matter how much he pleaded with his boss. Instead England would try to make it up to America by sending his gifts in the mail like little toys, candies, and letters. He hoped America could understand he still loved him, even if he couldn't be there. And America did understand, despite his young age. He knew England loved him and knew he'd love to be there and couldn't. America knew all of this but that didn't stop him from being lonely.
Now America would walk through his cold house devoid of the smell of burnt food, the sound of laughter and joy, the sight of a big beautiful tree. Instead he would go out into the snow covering his lands and build a snowman. He put a big carrot nose on it and big sticks for eyebrows and give all his Christmas wishes to the cold inanimate object, for it was all he had. And the only wish he had was for England to come for Christmas. Now on Christmas mornings he would run downstairs with such enthusiasm and expect to have his wish come true and to see England there and to jump into his arms and say how much he missed him. And every time, he wasn't there. So he would walk back to his room to sit by himself and open the gifts that the post man had dropped off for him from England. America really was happy to receive them, but it just wasn't the same without someone to hug and thank and give gifts back to. Though however sad he may be, he would write England back a thank you card and say he was just fine and that he was happy. At least America could give England reassurance; he didn't want England to feel bad on Christmas, even if he himself was.
Years past with the exact same routine; America would stay at home and hope for England, and England would get caught up at work. At a point, America just believed he was forgotten or that England didn't even attempt to make time for him anymore, and he accepted it. He branched out to other nations and spent Christmas with his brothers Canada and France. America had almost forgotten what a real Christmas felt like. But no matter how great the French food was and how extravagant and bright their tree was, America still couldn't free his mind from the lingering memory of what Christmas used to mean to him.
Well hello! Looky I made something that should've never been made with my horrid writing skills.
This is a Christmas present for AnorexicWalrus! You better like this piece of crap. Took all my ability to write this sad lump of a fanfic for you :I