Disclaimer: Axis powers Hetalia (or Hetalia Axis Powers) does not belong to me. This little plot here, however, does. Enjoy!
"Care to go out for a drink?"
America's eyebrows rose as he adjusted the cell phone on his shoulder. He was in the middle of a mission in Grand Theft Auto and didn't want to stop.
"It's not everyday you invite me out for a beer, England!" he replied, "What's the occasion?"
"Oh, no reason. It's been a while, is all."
"Sure, I'll come over!"
He didn't really think much of it at the time, but as he walked down the foggy streets of London to the house of one Arthur Kirkland, he couldn't help but wonder; why was England inviting him out? Usually he had some sort of ulterior motive, like trying to get information out of him, or tricking him into some sort of one-sided deal.
Besides… surely England knew what the date was… right? And he surely knew that that day was only a mere couple of hours away, right?
It only took three knocks before the older country promptly opened the door.
"Right on time," England said after a quick glance at his watch, grabbing America's duffel bag and tossing it inside, "Ready to go?"
America watched as his bag landed near the door of the closet before glancing at England quizzically. "Sure…" he replied slowly at England led the way down to one of his favorite pubs. The green-eyed country seemed a bit off tonight. He was definitely more fidgety than usual – he seemed nervous. America grew slightly concerned. Perhaps England was in trouble?
"H-hey, England," he started out cautiously, "Are you okay? We don't have to go out if you don't, you know, want to…"
"No, it's fine," England absentmindedly replied, "I do want to go to the pub."
The younger country nodded, still bewildered at England's strange behavior.
The walk was silent, save for some awkward small talk, and it wasn't long before they made it to the pub. The two countries made themselves comfortable up at the bar.
"Two pints to start, Charles." The bartender nodded with a slight grin as he recognized his usual customer.
"The usual stuff?"
"That sounds good to me."
Once the bartender was out of earshot, America turned to England. "What's wrong?" he asked, "Something's up, I just know it!"
"Nothing's wrong."
"But, you don't usually act like this."
England waved a hand just as the pints were set on the table in front of them, "I'm fine!" he snapped before taking a swig of his beer.
Other than, the conservation was more or less nice. They had a relatively heated debate over whether rugby was more superior than American Football, and vice versa. It wasn't until late though, that England began showing signs of being more than just a "little chipper."
"Come on, England," America had pulled England up, an arm over his shoulder, and half-helped and half-dragged him out of the bar, making sure to leave a nice tip.
"Thanks, lad," Charles, the bartender, said as he saw them off, "You know, Arthur drinks like this only around this time of the year."
America faltered, staring at Charles in slight shock. "He… he does?"
Charles nodded solemnly, "I suppose this time, he wanted someone to keep him company."
He did know what day it is…
"God, England, what am I supposed to do with you…" America muttered as he carefully hobbled down the street. The older country was barely able to stand on his own, so he felt like a dead weight at America's side.
"… 'm sorry…" was England's garbled reply. America rolled his eyes.
"Are you really sorry?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"Then why do you keep doing this to yourself?"
"Because I couldn't think of another way to do this!" England snapped, wrenching himself from America's hold, wobbling slightly on his own feet, but standing and glaring at the younger nation nonetheless.
"Do what? England, I don't know what you're talking about!"
"This! Just… all of this! I couldn't cope without doing all of this!" England exploded, grabbing the lapels of America's jacket and slamming him against a building, "After you defeated me, after you declared your independence, after you left and turned your back, this was all I could do! Everything I did for you; the house that I built for you, the clothing, the funds you needed to get started… you stepped on all of that and threw it back in my face!"
America was too stunned to reply, or even force England to let him go. It was always the same – England, whenever they got drunk, would complain about his declaring independence and leaving – but this time was completely different. He had never seen England this angry over the issue before.
"I felt used! Once you didn't need me any more, you just cast me aside like I didn't matter! And then you even attacked me! I couldn't understand! I still don't!"
"England…"
"I thought we were best friends, Alfred. I thought we were brothers!" The older nation's shoulders slumped, and he released America, stepping back. America couldn't see England's face; the latter was looking at the ground, and his eyes were shielded by his bangs.
"I thought all of that, and I didn't realize it," his voice was thick, as if he was trying to fight tears, "All of it was my fault."
America, unsure of what to do, tentatively took a step forward. "E-England?"
"I was the one pushing you away, America. I was the one who was using you. I should have listened to you instead of trying to rule your life. I was so blind! But I didn't want to admit that the little baby I had taken in had become an adult who was well capable of providing for himself."
England clenched his fists so tightly they shook, and he squeezed his eyes shut to fight the stinging that he had grown accustomed to around this time of the year.
"I… I'm sorry, Alfred…" he managed to say, his voice quiet, "For everything."
There was a moment in time when everything was silent as England's words sunk in. The two men stood on the street, less than ten feet away from each other. One looked stunned, uncertain. The other looked broken, tired, and even a little afraid. It was all how England had planned it though. There was no way he would've been able to say all that while sober. And he wanted the apology to be a little more light-hearted than this. Stupid England, stupid! How could you lose control of your emotions like that, he mentally berated himself, not daring to even take a quick glimpse. He didn't want to see whatever expression was on America's face. He was afraid of seeing the one emotion that had him second guessing this idea of his for weeks; rejection.
The sound of footsteps reached his ear, and it was only seconds before he found himself staring at not the ground, but America's shoes. A hand landed on his shoulder, patting it comfortingly.
"I probably should've realized that you hadn't gotten over what happened back then. Can I blame you?" America's voice was slightly cheerful, trying to lighten to mood, "I forgave you a long time ago, Arthur, after seeing your face that day."
"As if I could shoot you… idiot! Damnit… why?!""
"You used to be so big…"
England looked up at him, his reddened eyes wide with disbelief.
"I'm sorry too. I should've tried to talk to you instead of just seceding out of the blue. I should've remembered that you are someone who's willing to talk things out. I'm sorry I hurt you," America's smile was reassuring, and he held out his free hand, "Friends? I miss having my big brother around."
England stared, speechless, at the younger man's outstretched hand. A shaky smile graced his lips, and the tears sprang to his green eyes once again. Nodding, he firmly clasped America's hand.
"Let's go home," America's voice mirrored his from so long ago. A burden was lifted from England's shoulders. Finally, he could move on.
"Yeah."
A/N: I can't even begin to tell you how long I've had this stinking drabble in my head. I'm just glad I FINALLY got it out. The general idea is based off of Evanescence's song "Forgive Me." I hope you like it :)