ThePepsiNinja: Ta-da! I was inspired to write my first series of Valentine's oneshots. This also happens to be my first angst oneshot, so bear with me. It might not be all that good. *nervous laughter* So...I appreciate reviews. It's what keeps me going, really. I'm making more and those will be added shortly.

England: Why is it me that's always stuck with the angst?

ThePepsiNinja: Because, Arthur, it seems as if you were made for it...or something. Well here it is. I don't own Hetalia. Himaruya, TokyoPop and the actual country of Japan does. You know what I own? My computer.

Prompt one: Jealous

Pairing: England.

So you heard from basically everyone that England had never been good with voicing or expressing his emotions. And you believed them because you had seen this with your own eyes. It was usually concerning Seychelles or America. The former made your heart hurt while the latter merely made you roll your eyes in either amusement or annoyance. You could never tell.

Why did he have to like Seychelles? What made her so special? Okay, so she was pretty, and smart, and energetic, and always showed off her ridiculously perfect tan. Other than that, she had nothing.

Sigh.

Other than that, she was just like you. Plain ol' [Name]. With plain [Hair color] hair and [Eye color] eyes. Nothing special, just…you.

And you had to keep your frustration in every time England came to you complaining about how Seychelles either insulted him, or he saw France flirting with her. Again.

And today was no different.

"I don't know [Name]. What am I doing wrong?"

You could only shrug your shoulders as he rested his head in your lap. You were one of the precious few people that were really close to the Brit. That thought made you happy, but if you could have avoided having to talk to him about her, you'd be much happier.

You brushed your fingers through his blond, messy hair, reveling in how silky it was.

"I don't know, England. Maybe you should try being a little less…cold to people. That'd probably help."

Why were you helping him? You should have been telling him that she was no good for him. To just…to just let France have her, and tell him to move on so he didn't have to be like this any more. But you couldn't do that. Not to him. It would hurt him and you knew that, and you couldn't risk it.

Maybe you should just tell him? That would help, right? Maybe. It was worth a shot. Summoning all of your courage, you took a deep breath, your bangs shielding your eyes in shadow.

"E-England…Arthur. I-I need to-"

"[Name]? What's wrong, love?" You really hated when he called you that. At least when you knew he didn't love you that way.

"Nothing's wrong, per say…I just…I need to tell you something."

"Yes? Go ahead. I'm all ears." England said with a concerned air about his voice, sitting up to look at you more directly.

"Arthur, I-"

You were cut off when his phone rang. He looked at you, as if asking permission to answer it. You sighed in resignation and nodded. He smiled softly in thanks and answered the phone.

"Hello?" He paused, before his face lit up. "Seychelles? What are you-oh sure. I'll be over there in a moment." He hung up and looked at you, his eyes sparkling with happiness. "That was Seychelles." Well duh. You were afraid your feeble mind was unable to comprehend that when you heard him talking to her. "She wants me to meet her at this nearby café." He said while walking to where his coat was hung neatly and slid it on smoothly. "Oh. Do you need me to drop you off at your house?" He asked. Such a gentleman. Yet, such a dunce sometimes. You shook your head no.

"No, I'd rather walk. It's nice for now and I want to enjoy it." You replied with the most stoic voice you could manage. This made him worry again.

"[Name]. Are you sure? It's really not that much trouble, and I'd hate to leave a lady alone to walk all the way back to her house." You still declined.

"It's not that far a walk. It's what, like four blocks? I'll be fine. You go, have a nice time with Seychelles." You said her name somewhat bitterly and walked past him, grabbing your coat on the way and slid out the door.

He respected your wishes and let you go. Your chest felt heavy, and your heart felt like someone had taken a cactus and raked it across the fragile surface, effectively piercing and gashing it multiple times.

About a block away from your house and the clouds suddenly let a massive downpour out. You stopped dead in your tracks, not caring that your house was within sight and you were getting soaked. You just dropped to your knees on the pavement, scraping the skin of your knees and just started crying. The man you loved was out there with another woman and there wasn't a damned thing you could do about it. Sure you could go and tell him how you felt. You could tell him all you wanted, but you saw the way he looked when Seychelles talked to him. He would never look that way at you. Ever. Sabotaging it would only make you a worse person and would wreck your friendship. Your body was wracked with sobs that kept coming, even after you begged your mind to control them and let you get up and go home.

But no, just like so many other things lately, that didn't go your way and you ended up staying there, alone, in the rain, crying your eyes out, and in pain.

In the midst of your crying, a harsh, sardonic laugh came out and you looked down at your hands, now clenched into fists and you mused.

Love hurts.