I do not own hetalia its characters nor themes.
-1821-
"Go away Inglaterra "
Overflowing with dread, Spain wanted nothing more than to be left alone beneath the darkened sky, as the thunder rolled, water swabbed his feet, fingering the wooden pier. Yes. He wanted to be alone to stare across the ocean, the watery abyss called the Atlantic. He wanted to stare endlessly across the water, where he knew she was. Celebrating, merrymaking, and rejoicing, while he sat, beaten down and bruised, inside and out.
He knew exactly what the British man behind him wanted; to laugh. He wanted to taunt Spain, to make fun of him, take advantage of his weakened state... just as the former had had done, or rather attempted to do when the man before him stood in this very position.
And why not? Spain knew that if this was happening to England, he would not hesitate to do the same once more, he deserved the hurtful torment, the mocking, the scorn, the cruel laughter...
He deserved it. For he did not understand the heartbreak; not until now.
Maybe more so, he was more broken than England had been.
He remember the rain, if only for the thunder; or maybe it was gunfire. The rain pouring down upon him, the sky crying for him as he treaded across the muddy fields.
He was unable to forget the loud, thunderous shrill of bullets, firing and exploding throughout the days, the months, the years of endless fighting and bloodshed.
It was a portrait, a picture painted perfectly in his mind, so vivid and vivacious that, it was unforgettable. It burned though his eyelids, penetrated every thought, invaded his mind and crushed itself into his brain, forcing him to remember, cursed never to forget.
England let out a husky sigh, the blond, instead of laughing or taunting his fellow nation, simply sat beside him, gazing into the waters, across the ocean where, he too, knew his former colony was.
The two did not share any form of communication.
From his jacket, the Island country pulled out a bottle; aged and dusted, sealed by a cork. He placed the plug between his teeth and pulled, allowing drops of the liquid content to fall before turning it upright, and motioning it toward Spain.
The brunette took it without question, placing the bottle to his lips he drink. The English rum burned the back of his throat in an unfamiliar sensation, however he didn't care. Nearly half of the bottles contents had been emptied by the time he set it beside his trembling body . Now, there were tears in his eyes.
"I-It isn't fair" He spoke, placing a hand over his face, wanting to hide. Hide his shame and humiliation from, not only England, but the world. Hide his sadness from the world.
However he sobbed on. Sobbed and complained as England listened.
Years of tormenting memories re-surfaced, charging at him at once as he recalled every battle, every argument, the yelling, the screaming, the cruel words exchanged. He remembered the hugs, the smiles, the family bond they shared.
He remembered and he told.
"I-I wish I knew she was so unhappy!" He cried. The Englishman did not speak. He did not speak until the Spanish gentlemen was finished; when the rain began to fall.
If he knew, if only he knew! If only he paid closer attention, listened to her complaints, tried to figure out why she had been so angry, so rebellious all the time. If only he had been a better brother..
"It gets easier over time, it does" He began, looking into the clouds above. "But...the pain is still there, that won't go away, it'll creep unto you, every year when that time comes. When you remember what happened, and wonder what you did wrong and consider what you could have done to stop them..." He trailed off.
Spain, finally stopping his gross sobbing, puffy red eyes turned to his confident as he spoke, watching the rain run down his face, and falling. The British man did not look at him however, only continued on, looking into the clouds.
"Then you realize, you couldn't have done anything. The fact that they want to be independent, their own country, means that you've done your job. You raised them correctly. Even though it hurts...letting them go is the best thing we could have done for them" He finally looked at Spain, his Green eyes slightly glossy.
"I tried to take him back, I did, I burned down his capital, tried once more to treat him as a child, even got his Brother to fight with me but...I was forced realized that he was able to stand on his own. He was ready to be his own country, that...I raised him to be strong, strong enough to take on the world, to take on me. They can't be children forever. The best of them will fight for independence, and if they want it enough; they'll get it, and we need to be strong enough to let them go."
With a sigh, England stood.
"Keep a stiff upper lip ol' chap" England placed a hand upon his shoulder; and walked away, leaving Spain with only his thoughts...
Would it really become easier to deal with? She wanting Independence? Not wanting to be his little sister anymore? Her hatred of him? Could he really deal with it? For the rest of his life? Would that pain be easier to deal with?
She was his little sister. He found her, took her in, raised her.
She had always been a rebellious child, but she was always happy to see him, always sad to see him go.
However that moment.
That moment standing in the field, ran pouring, her weapon drawn, glaring at him with nothing but hatred.
That moment. Would it leave his mind?
Her voice "Espana! I want my independence from you! I want freedom"
Would it leave his ears?
What of his reaction?
Shouting at her, telling her 'no' that she was foolish and could not stand alone against the world. That there were monsters, monsters like Britain who would take her over the moment she stood against him.
And what of the guilt?
The guilt of opening fire against his sister.
Would that ever go away?
He didn't know. He wouldn't know...
He didn't think it would.
-Modern Day-
Spain sauntered down the hall, making his way to the United Nations meeting, held this time in New York City, from the hall of the large building he heard a familiar scream causing slight panic to the European nation. He frowned, quickening his pace the brunette allowed a worried expression to work itself across his face as she charged toward the large brown door at the end of the hall.
"¡Cállate! I'm sick of you América! You must WANT another war!" The Spaniard stopped, allowing his nerves to cool, he let out a slight chuckle.
The yells became clearer as Spain neared the at a pace much slower, a small smile replaced his former expression, it graced his face all too well as he imagined how the scene came to be;
She must have discovered how half-assed her house was drawn on Americas map, and became angry about it.
" Remember the Alamo América, remember it well. Think about it every time you take a bite out your disgusting Taco Bell!"
Now, she accused him of holding a grudge over the Alamo (which he did and everyone knew it)
"Hey! That just crossed the line!
Spain laughed to himself, the two were both so loud, he wondered if they even realized how much alike they were. He was so engrossed in their conversation he wasn't aware of England walking beside him.
"Spain" England acknowledged.
"oh, Buenos días Inglaterra" Spain realized, once England had caught up to him, that he had been standing, listening to the conversation of the North American duo though a closed door. Embarrassed he shuffled slightly, he didn't want England to think he was watching over her, still acting as an older brother to his former colony.
The Englishman sighed,
"Those two" He shook his head. He could feel the headache already. Why did they have to bring their petty arguments to the meeting? The pair lived close enough to one another to argue any time they pleased. He would need to have a talk with the boy.
"They're still young, someday they'll learn" He smiled. England scoffed; Spain could be so naive. They were both idiots! He was convinced of it.
The pair opened the door, to find the meeting room in chaos. Most recklessly, however was Mexico, with all of her tanned, dark haired glory, reaching to America, roughly trying to snatch Texas from his face and cursing him and screaming something about boarders as the taller nation laughed, seeing it as nothing more than a game, Nantucket swaying in the wind.
"You're nothing but a bully!"
"What! I'm a HERO!" He laughed.
"You always talk about how we're 'such great friends' but you turn around and treat me like shit! I'm tired of it!"
"What! We're best buds! Free trade and everything! I'm totally over the Alamo" He lied.
England sighed, he pulled America a side in order to give him a 'stern talking too' as he informed Spain he would do. Mexico huffed, small hands forming themselves into tight fists as she mumbled something about Americans, cultural differences and...drugs? in a dialect Spain understood well enough, save for a few words he sure was slang. She was going to storm to her seat, however she noticed Spain in the doorway.
A large smile formed on her face, as she turned to him.
"Buenos Dias Espana" She greeted warmly with a curtsey . Forgetting about America.
"Buenos Dias" He greeted kindly.
"I grew some delicious tomates in my yard; stop by and have some later ok?" She stepped towards him. A large smile formed on his face as he let out an excited gasp.
" muchas gracias! Can I bring some home to Romano too?"
"Si! We can also have burritos!" She sung cheerfully, R's rolling perfectly off her tongue as she accompanied it with a small dance . Spain laughed at her eagerness to eat food with him.
The words given to him so long ago returned to his mind. He turned to England, who was trying to get through to America, only to receive the man's trademark obnoxious laughter. Much to the older countries annoyance.
"It gets easier over time"
However, England had been wrong. It hadn't only gotten easier, dealing the pain; it got better.
The pain of the betrayal, the bitter feelings, they went away, went away as time passed between them.
The lives they lived were far too long, too long to hold grudges or bitterness toward one another, after all as time went by, nothing would remain the same, nothing but the people standing in this very room, bosses, politics, they changed, becoming faded memories in time. A bitter rival one decade would become a close ally the next.
For them, time changed everything. Time could heal any wound or path any relationship, every problem could be ridden out with time.
And things always got better.
-Oh goodness *hides in corner* I-I don't want to make excuses by I didn't know how to end it-I'm quite cheesy am I not?
I'm not sure why I wanted to right this, I guess I just like the idea of Spain and England bonding, perhaps they can put that whole armada incident behind them someday - and America will stop eating burgers -
-Oh my...does this make Mexico my hetalia OC?
Fun Fact: In the America and the World Map strip, where America explains to England why the Mexico on his map is "half-assed", stating that "It's because of my grudge over the Alamo."
I hope you enjoyed it. Reviews are a critical part of aiding writers become better y'know?