Hello guys! This was unexpected, right? I know, I know. I am actually a Hetalia fan, and this just came to me while I was listening to each of the character's ending songs. I decided to write this and I might continue this if you guys want to see another chapter of this. Well, on with the show! *curtain rises*

ALSO: I recommend that you play a sad song while reading this and have tissues handy. Enjoy!

If Only I Told Him

"England! England! Look what I found!" America jumped up and down, filled with joy on England's front porch. Speaking of England, he was making a splendid breakfast in his kitchen. Sausage and scrambled eggs. YUMMY *_*

"What, America? I'm—" When England walked outside, he did not expect to see a huge wad of American cheese on their front step. "Who would do such a thing?"

"I don't know, man," America replied, carefully observing the cheese for holes, "but it's freaking awesome! Touch it with me! Come on! TOUCH IT WITH ME! You know you want too..." Oh no. The puppy dog eyes. Not again. No! England would not fall under that spell again, he shan't.

"America, please don't do—" With a blink of an eye, America was directly in front of the English man, examining his wet lips.

"Mmm...," The American licked his lips and ran back to the cheese. "Come on! You can eat this with me!" The sausage on the burners were burning, but England didn't care. He didn't even want to eat the cheese. He just wanted America. He loved his big, blue eyes. They were two infinite, vast blue oceans full of mystery. He also loved his immaturity and his excitement. Who could forget his sense to discover random objects, such as the block of cheese?

"Actually, I'd rather do something else, America." England retreated inside to tend to his now burnt sausages, but halfway there, America stopped him.

"Listen, I—" England leaned in quickly for a small kiss. He wanted to pull away afterwards, but he couldn't. He couldn't resist. America didn't stop either. Ha, to think, he was just coming over for breakfast. Who knew they'd be locking lips together, let alone in public? England's home wasn't in the middle of nowhere, you know. England's slight insecurity and embarrassment were tugging at his lips, begging them to back off America's, but they couldn't. Neither America nor England pulled up for air. Soon, America's tongue was eager to enter England's mouth. At first, England's mouth denied access, but his body was nearly dripping in pleasure. Eventually America's tongue entered England's mouth and swirled around. It became intertwined with the British man's tongue. Moans of extreme ecstasy were exploding from each of the men's mouthes. After a short period, America became eager to go further. He reached his arm for England's belt buckle and attempted to unbuckle England's pants. England swatted his hand away.

"No," England said, finally taking a break, "I'm not ready for that yet." When He glanced down to readjust his belt buckle, he noticed a bulge coming out from America's pants. The American knew this, and began to blush.

"Teehee," America said, placing his hand above his mouth. His cheeks were starting to turn red. He was so cute. "Please? I think I..."

England knew what those words were before America was even able to say them. "I know what you mean. I think I feel the same way."

"Then why can't we... mess around?" America asked with puppy dog eyes.

"Because, I want to wait until I can find someone special," England didn't realize what he had just said could be considered as an insult.

"Okay, I see," said America with tears in his eyes. He was barely intelligible. "I'll just be on my way since I'm not special to you!" America ran off with tears streaming down his face. England tried to stop him, but the American's feelings were hurt. England sighed, before withdrawing to his bedroom to examine his conscience and to realize the damage he had truly done. He left his sausages on the burner.

Ring, ring, ring! The telephone rang. Ring, ring, ring! England, groggy, picked up the tiny telephone on his nightstand. The caller I.D. read:

YAO WANG (CHINA)

261-523-1483

What the fuck does China want at 8 in the morning? England thought to himself. Oh well, he might as well answer it. China doesn't call him that often, unless it's something truly important.

"Hello?" England answered. He could only hear static on the other end, until China responded and began speaking quickly.

"Hello? England? Is that you?" He is such an idiot sometimes.

"Of course it is," England replied. "You called me, remember?" China laughed.

"Yes. yes, HAHAHAHAHAHAHHA! Anyway, I have some terrible news. France or Russia could have told you, but they chose me. Funny, right? Or maybe Canada, but he's just there, you know what I mean? Okay, getting majorly off topic here. Would you like me to tell you in person or over this stupid phone?" Will he ever stop talking? England wondered what this terrible news entails. Was it something not very minor, but it is as if the world is collapsing on top of China? Or is it seriously something horrendous?

"Just spit it out already, I'm ready to hear it." England lied. He wasn't ready for the news. He was never a good giver or receiver of bad news. That's why he doesn't want to become a doctor. That's why he dislikes hospitals in general.

"Okay, well... Me, France, Russia, Ukraine, and Belarus were all playing ping pong when we realized that we didn't have America with us. Well, he's been staying with Japan for a while now, as you may already know, because he is petrified from all of the scary video games he's been playing. So, we went over to Japan's home to go get him, and, well..."

"Spit it out! Spit it out!" England was getting extremely impatient. He just wanted to know what happened to Alfred. Now.

"Okay, okay! Someone didn't wank today! That is how you people say it, right? In China, we call it 'ziwèi'. Oh, back to America! Man, I really did wake up on the wrong side of the bed! I'm afraid he... passed away. When we came in, he had a bottle of painkillers next to him. I'm... sorry. The funeral is at two o'clock today, if you want to pay your respects. I hope to see you there." China, on the verge of tears, Hung up the phone and began to sob. England dropped the phone.

Oh my God, he thought. I'm a murderer.

He killed the only person he was developing feelings for. Oh, fuck it. He loved Alfred. And Alfred loved him back.

"Damn it," England screamed, throwing a shoe at the wall, "I loved him. I should have told him. All because of what I said... He's gone."

America is gone. Alfred is gone. Dead.

When England pulled up before St. Anastasia church, his heart sunk to the soles of his white shoes. He already missed him. He wanted to kiss and hug America and snuggle with him on the couch and watch reruns of Desperate Hetalia Wives. Pain crept its way into England's heart, and it is going to be a tough journey trying to rid of it.

"Here today, we remember a joyous man known by the name of Alfred Jones," the chubby priest spoke. His fat was visible through his garments. It almost made England chuckle. Oh, that is terrible. Laughing at a funeral. Well, laughter is the best medicine, especially when you're feeling blue. "God, may your light always and forever shine down on his holy and innocent man." Hehe. His voice was deep. England also noticed that lying next to America's body was the block of cheese he found. Nice touch, England thought.

England glanced around the church. All of the countries were there, except for Switzerland. Who cares about Switzerland, anyway?

As the priest dabbled on and on about Alfred childhood, England ransacked his mind, trying to remember the wonderful memories that he has shared with America over the lifespan of their friendship. The amazing memories entered into a war with the pain and woe. Both sides fought impressively, but the pain won and overtook him in a way in which no emotion has ever taken him before. Stricken with extreme sadness, England began to weep. His nose was running like a wild baboon and his eyes were filled to the brink with tears. He scampered out of the church, not wanting to look back. He couldn't take the pain any longer. The guilt that he will have to live with for the rest of his life. He killed America. Who knew one little remark could have led to this? England ran to the curb of the street hen he noticed a bus was about to lass the church.

"America, I'm coming."

He remembered Alfred's face as he took a giant leap of faith and jumped in front of the bus. A dark mist clouded his vision and Alfred could only see black. Now, he'll be one with America forever.

After the mass had ended, China, France, Russia, Germany, Italy, and Japan all wept as they were the first to find Arthur's deceased corpse lying in the center of the street.

Soo... Did it work? Did I make you cry? Mwahaha! :D Please review, and let me know if you want me to write an aftermath-type of thing to continue this!