"Daddy! Daddy!" he cried out. "Can you believe the weather outside? It's awesome!" The older nation sighed. He didn't want it to be 'awesome' outside, he wanted it to be storming. He wanted a tornado, a hurricane, a tsunami, anything. But his 12 year-old son didn't. "Daddy? Are you ok?" he asked.
"Y-Yeah... I am...," America stumbled out. Sealand regained his smile.
"Can we play catch?" he insisted. America glanced at his son with eyes that looked so weary. He couldn't bare looking at Sealand, especially not today. Sealand looked too much like his other father. His blond hair, his green eyes, his thick eyebrows, all that. America turned his head and closed his eyes. He didn't feel so good. Yeah, that seems like a good excuse.
"Sorry, can't. I don't feel so well." Alfred tried to force a smile but failed. How could he smile today? "Aw! But you promised!" complained his son. Alfred clenched his fist on the countertop. The small blond stopped pouting and curiously looked at his father. "I need some rest," America said his voice almost trembling. As he managed his way up, Sealand sighed. He was hoping to get his dad's mind off the past and have a great time today. But he guessed that America still can't get over England's death.
It was down pouring and both men were drenched. It was WWIII, it was worse than WWII, far worse than WWII. It was when all Hell broke loose into the world and so far, no nation was able to stop it. "England! You can't die on me like this! This isn't cool!" yelled the younger nation. England layed in America's beat up arms, slaughtered terribly, hardly breathing. America's tears mixed with the rain drops falling down his scratched cheeks uncontrollably. "Stupid git! I wouldn't be in this condition if you were paying attention!" England slurred, his mouth filling with blood. He would never forget that awful taste of iron in his mouth... If he survives.
"That doesn't matter right now. We gotta get you patched!" America stood up frantically looking around for assistance. England just sighed in defeat.
"Just give it up already. It's no use." The younger nation's head shot down at the older one. He said what now? As America's jaw plummets to the ground, England threw a fierce coughing attack. More blood spattered eveywhere. "Ok dude. I don't care what you say. I'm getting help." America started glancing around for anyone really. He didn't care if it was Italy helping them. All they needed was someone to help keep England alive!
"I sa- *cough- id to just gi- *cough*-ve it up! Don't you - *cough*- have - cough*- any sense?! Just go -*cough*- save the world...," England took all his strength to stop coughing and stare deep into America's brown eyes. Oh how he still looked like that litte child that England could proudly call his little brother. He wished America could say the same thing. The dying nation simply smiled as he finished the sentence. "... you hero."
England coughed once more, letting out his final breath of air. He closed his eyes as he fell into eternal slumber. America's mouth started quivering in shock, his eyes open in terror. No, he thought, he can't die! He's freaking England! The blond nation fell to his knees in despair. He put his hands on the dead nations chest in denial.
"H-Hey England. This isn't funny. C-C'mon dude wake up!" America shook England fratically as England's chest failed to rise and fall. "England! Get up! You aren't meant to die like this!" America's eyes filled with tears that fell down his face rapidly. He then fell ontop of the body, banging England's chest. He shield his eyes from the rest of the world, denying to see it.
It's just a dream, he thought to himself, only a dream. But it wasn't a dream. It was a living nightmare that America couldn't escape.