America sat crosslegged in a vast field of grass. He was looking at a purple flower with black spots that freckled the petals. The wind blew softly ruffling his hair as he spun the flower by it's stem. He was reminded of a friend long gone. A friend he wished he'd never grown close to, but happy that he did. America sighed and looked out towards the rolling hills and the forest beyond. He tensed when he felt a presence behind him, but relaxed when he heard a familiar voice.
"America? What are you doing out here?" England stood next to America, peering down at him with a fond smile gracing his lips. America hid his face behind his hair not responding. England frowned, worried that something could have upset his younger brother, "Are you okay, poppet?"
America hid his face while he nodded. He kept looking down at the flower in his hand. England noticed and sat next to him, confused, as he tried to look at America's face. America turned his head away at first, then faced England, his eyes shining brightly, "Don't ever leave me, okay?"
England blinked at America, taken back by what he just said. Then he frowned and moved to press his hand to America's forehead, "Are you feeling well, poppet?" America nodded his head vigorously and England sighed softly, "Of course I'll never leave you, silly."
"We're gonna be bestest friends forever, right?"
"America, where is this coming from? Are you sure you're okay?" England eyed him and the flower suspiciously.
"Just promise me. Please England?" America looked at England pleadingly and the Brit was unable to refuse him. England held his right hand out, his pinky pointing towards America. He waited until America wrapped his pinky around his own before he spoke.
"I do solemnly promise that I will never leave you. We will remain the best of friends forever." England smiled at the grin that broke out onto America's face, "Now are you going to tell me what this all about?"
America let go of England's pinky and pulled at the grass. He shrugged, "You're important to me. I just don't want to to lose you is all."
It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the entire truth either. America didn't want to talk about his past when England wasn't around. He treasured those moments; they were for him and him only.
America's response seemed to be enough for England. He looked confused for a moment more before standing and stretching. England smiled down at America as he held his hand out for him to take, "Why don't we head back to the house for some tea and scones."
America took England's hand and let himself be pulled up. He brushed himself off and let England lead him away, the flower lay on the grass, having been forgotten by America.
America shivered as he felt the cold seep through his blue coat. He faced England, his face an unreadable mask as his men trained their guns on England. Rain was pouring down on the men and made the barren landscape a slippery mess. The grass was long gone, the gray sky thundered above them. England glared at America, his face pained as he yelled his protest.
"I refuse to back down. I promised I wouldn't ever leave you!"
America winced and grimaced. He remembered the day he and England promised they'd be best friends forever. Now here they stood on the same ground as one defended that promise while the other wanted that promise to die along with the beauty this place once held.
America steeled himself as he spoke, "I never promised you that."
England's gun lowered minutely. He stared at America shocked, unbelieving of what he had just heard. Techniquely America was right, but he refused to believe that the American would actually want this. England swallowed thickly before America spoke again, unwavering.
"All I want is my freedom."
England felt something within him break as he ran towards America, his bayonet pointed straight for America's chest, yelling: "I won't allow it!"
America used his own gun to quickly protect himself, but it was flung from his grasp with the force of the impact. He stood there staring down the barrel of the gun into England's eyes. His eyes were shining and the rain made it look as if he were crying. America thought he faintly heard the sound of guns being cocked behind him.
"You idiot! You never think things through." England scolded. America trained his eyes on the gun pointed right at his face. He waited for England to pull the trigger.
Nothing happened. England spoke instead, "I can't shoot you."
He threw his gun to the ground and crumbled to his knees. England placed his hand over his face as he cried into it, "Why? Dammit why?"
America looked at the row of red coats standing a little away. He motioned for his men to lower their weapons, his expression cold. When he looked down at England his eyes looked sad, "You know why."
England was left crying into his hand as America turned and began walking away. England watched as America's boots turned and left. Only then did he notice a crushed purple flower where America once stood.
America sat with his cheek against the palm of his hand. He fought to keep his droopy eyes open, but with Germany ranting on about politics and whatnot, it was hard for the American to stay awake.
America lazily dragged his eyes around the table. Some nations, like him, were about to pass out. Few were already asleep and others were exchanging small talk. America's eyes landed on England. For some magical reason he was sitting next to France and engaging in polite conversation.
England flicked his eyes in America's direction and met his gaze, they betrayed nothing of his emotions or thoughts. No sooner had he looked at America then he'd directed his attention back to France and what he'd been saying. America continued to stare at England noticing everytime he grimaced, scowled, or cracked the smallest of smiles.
"Alright, that's it." Germany called for everyone's attention, "We're obviously not going to get anything done today. This meeting is adjourned." He packed up his stuff and left, Italy trailing close behind him and Japan following soon after.
A few of the nations dawdled to converse with each other, but most left, not wanting to spend any more time in the stuffy meeting room. America stood and slipped past the doors unnoticed. He didn't stop to think where he was going. America just shut his mind down and let his legs lead him wherever. He pushed open the door he came across and was met with the biting cold. He stepped out onto the snow, the wind stinging his cheeks. America shivered and wrapped his bomber jacket closer to himself as he walked to the back garden.
Everything was covered in a thin layer of snow. The branches of trees and the pots littering the ground were blanketed in white. In the summer the place was covered in flowers and green foliage, but during the winter season everything slept.
As America approached the great oak tree in the center of the garden, he recognized a familiar figure off to the side. His small frame was hunched against the cold wind and his unruly blonde hair was shining even with the sun being blocked by the clouds above. America stuffed his hands in his pockets and stood next to England, looking up at the tree.
"Hey."
England briefly looked at him, then darted his eyes away, "Hello."
They stayed silent for a while, the atmosphere becoming more awkward by the minute. That is until America tried breaking the ice. Key word: tried.
"Uhm... Nice weather we're having today." America mentally slapped himself, grateful to blame his reddened cheeks on the cold and not his embarrassment at his pathetic attempt to start a conversation.
England was amused, but did well to hide it, "If cold weather that causes frostbite and plants to die is nice here, then I suppose yes. Very nice indeed." England's voice took on a sarcastic tone at the end that made America crack a half smile.
"Not dead; sleeping."
"Excuse me?"
"The flowers, the trees, even the grass; they're not dead, just sleeping. They're hibernating, kinda like bears. Then when it gets warmer, they'll wake up and say hi to the sun again."
England stood there staring at America, while the American smiled softly at him. Then he looked at the slumbering tree before him.
"I've never thought of it like that. Very clever."
"Thanks." America grinned.
"This place really is beautiful, even covered in snow." England mused.
America laughed, "Yeah. It's sparkly."
England chuckled softly at this, "Yes, I suppose it is." He reached his hand out and touched the trunk, "I've always wanted to tend to this garden."
America looked at England, shocked, as the Brit stared up at the branches dreamily, "Really?"
England only nodded. America worried his bottom lip.
"How come you never asked?"
At this, England let his hand fall back to his side as he sighed, "I don't know... I just didn't feel welcomed enough to have the privilege of touching this place, I guess."
"England..." America started, but England cut him off.
"No. It's okay. I have my own garden." He looked around, "But I dare say this garden does rival my own."
America's lips thinned out into a straight line and he began again, "England, you know you're always welcomed here. I know it may not seem like it, but you are..." America looked down at the ground, his eyes closed and his voice became a whisper, "I'm sorry."
England looked taken aback, but composed himself soon after, "What are you talking about, lad? You have nothing to be sorry for."
"Yeah, I do... I broke my promise."
"America, honestly, where is all this coming from all of a sudden?"
America's hands balled into fists, "I let you down... We promised we'd be best friends forever and I..." America sounded angry with himself.
"... Lad... That promise... It was a child's promise. It was bound to be broken." England searched for the right words to say to calm the American.
"No it wasn't." America looked up at England, his eyes angry, "It's my fault our promise was broken... And I regret it so much. I didn't know what I was doing or what I wanted. Now I just wish we could go back to the way we were... I wanna hang out with you and chat like we did when I was younger."
England sighed, "Come now America, don't beat yourself up over this. You're not the only one at fault here. It's best if we just forget about it and move on. Stiffen up that upper lip; things will get better."
"No. I'm not forgetting." England's eyebrows raised, but he said nothing, "So long as this garden lives, I refuse to forget about the promise we made to each other here all those years ago. And I know we'll never be able to go back to the way we were, but... we can start over."
"Start over?"
Shyly, but with hope reflected in his eyes, America held his pinky out to England, "If you give me a second chance I promise I won't let you down. We'll be best buds forever."
England stared at America's hand, dumbfounded. He didn't know whether he should've been happy that America was trying to reconcile with him or angry that the American would try this again after what happened last time. England's hand twitched at his side and he eyed the American suspiciously. Only when he saw how sincere America looked did he hesitantly raise his own hand and lock his pinky with America's. America grinned relieved that England would give their friendship another shot, but England had a warning for him.
"I'll give you a second chance, but if you break your promise this time, I'll never forgive you." England didn't want to go through losing America again. It was not only humiliating, but it hurt to damn much. This time if he sensed anything wrong then he wouldn't hesitate to give up on the American, no matter how much it would pain him.
America nodded vigorously, his pinky tightened around England's before letting go, "Thanks... buddy." The word felt foreign on his tongue, but good nonetheless. America was estatic that he and England were on friendly terms now. Before they were more like acquaintances, but now America could act more comfortably around the Brit without the fear of doing or saying something wrong. He was excited about what they could do together or what England would do or say to him now.
"Hey America?"
"Yeah England?"
"May I tend to the garden once everything wakes up and starts growing again?" England tilted his head to the side while he spoke.
America threw his head back and laughed at the first thing England wanted to talk about now that they were friends. When England frowned at him, America's grin only widened, "Yeah. Totally dude. We can take care of it together."
England smiled softly at that, "I'd very much like that. Thanks mate."
"Hey Iggy. Come on, everyone's leaving."
America stood in the doorway that led out of the building to the back. England was in the back garden when he heard America yell for him to hurry his ass up.
It was early spring and the plants were beginning to grow. The great oak's branches were regaining their leaves and the flowers were blooming. England straightened up, rolling his eyes as he put the watering can he'd been using next to a potted plant. He made his way to America, frowning slightly, "Calm down. I'm sure it wouldn't kill anyone to wait a few minutes."
"Yeah, well Prussia was getting impatient..." America pointed behind himself with his thumb before tilting his head so his bangs fell into his eyes. He gave England a quizzical look, "What were you doing back there?"
England blushed slightly, "I was watering the plants. It seemed rather hot today, therefore I thought they could use the extra water."
America laughed at this and clapped a large hand on England's shoulder, "Man I swear, you treat that place as if it were our baby."
England sputtered and his blush deepened as he tried to deny it. America, however, didn't listen to him and ushered him into the building and toward the group of nations waiting for them. England gave up and rolled his eyes again as he let America lead him away. Back at the garden, in a small patch of grass, little purple flowers were beginning to bloom under the sunlight.
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