I'm back ^^
Again, I do not own Hetalia...
... I think its pretty obvious.
"Hey dudes, sorry I'm late!" America had just burst into the meeting room, interrumpting the arguments and conversations that had been taking place. He walked over to his seat, passing by a certain Brit on his way.
America couldn't help but steal a glance at England, feeling quite worried when he saw his former guardian's state. He looked skinny and pale - unhealthily so. When the Britian turned to look at America, the latter quickly looked away. Nevertheless, he had noticed the traces of dark circles that were slowly beginning to form under England's eyes from the lack of sleep.
America felt his heart drop. Guilt pooled inside the blue-eyed nation, but he kept trying to remind himself that it wasn't his fault. If I had never become independent, there'd be no chance England could ever come to return my feelings... I had to do it.
It had been like that for Alfred during the past years. He spent days battling over his guilt at having hurt Arthur because he loved him.
Yes, no matter how much the ex-colony tried to deny it, he had fallen in love with the Englishman. But he was convinced that he didn't stand a chance at becoming England's love interest if he remained his colony, his little brother.
And now, he had gone and ruined it all...
America was quite sure that he had destroyed all the affection that England once had for him. The trust had been broken and all England probably felt for his former colony was pure hatred.
Alfred took a king-sized (hero-sized, as he liked to call it) chocolate bar from his shirt pocket, pulling back the red wrapper to reveal the sweetly scented treat. He munched absentmindedly, not paying attenttion to the meeting but remaining uncharacteristicaly quiet.
The American continued stealing glances at England, sure that no one had noticed.
France did. He wore his signature grin from ear to ear, chuckling lightly every time America turned to look at his former guardian.
When America's turn to speak finally came, he bolted up from his seat at once. Finally!
"Alright, as you all know, I'm gonna throw this freakin'-," he stopped to take a sip of soda and a bite off his cheesebruger, "- awesome party tonight. I'll see you all there!" The countries stared with blank expressions as America went on and on about how totally butt-kicking the fireworks would be and how the cake was going to be a glow-in-the-dark one this time.
The meeting came to an end. As everyone filed out the room, Alfred gave them an invitation in the shape of his flag. The room was almost vacant now, except for Arthur and Alfred. Little did they know that Francis was out on the hallway, smirk growing wider as he evesdropped into the conversation.
It was silent for a few moments, with the two countries exchanging looks. Look at us... There's no point in denying it - we need each other.
Then, America spoke.
"Hey, I-Iggy...Are you coming to the party tonight?" he held out an invitation for the Englishman to take.
Arthur, however, merely glared at him. "I'd rather burn in he-," he was cut short as France came in and stepped on his foot. "Gah! Wanker!" cursed England.
"He is going," interrumpted the Frenchman. Alfred, oblivious to all this, simply smiled and handed France the invitaton as he left the room.
England waited until America walked out of earshot. Then, furious, he turned to France. "Why in bloody 'ell did you do that!?"
France sighed. "Listen. There's obviously something going on between you and Ameri-".
"I have no ruddy idea what you're talking about!" interrumpted the younger European nation. He glared intensly at the Frenchman, as if daring him to say something. England was still bent on stubbornly denying the obvious existance of his feelings for America.
There was a word to describe people like England, France remembered. Japan had once said it...
But what was it?
Ah, yes, tsundere.
"I know you, Angleterre. Here's your chance to sort things out," France said, offering England the invitation he had previously declined.
The Brit consider it for a moment. He's actually got a point. With a nod, he took the invitation, stuffing it into the pocket of his coat.
"Would you like a ride home?"
England just shook his head.
He wasn't going home; he was heading straight for the bar.
"Msh...Damn wanker! My cooking'sh not that bad!" England slurred, speaking with himself. He was at the bar again, his face plastered against the wooden counter. He hadn't drank much just yet; America's party would begin in a few hours.
He had promise to be there and, like every gentleman, he kept true to his word.
"Gimme ah'nother...ah'nother... drink!" he ordered. He gave the bartender some cash and was given another glass. England gulped the alcohol quickly.
"I'm-a not gonna drink 'nymore," the Englishman murmured to the empty glass. Just then, an older man, about 40 years old, settled on the seat next to Arthur. He turned to look at the drunken nation, smirking and chuckling at his state.
"Whats wrong, kidd'o? Suffering over some ... lost love?" the man teased in a heavy Scottish accent. He shook his head, mocking England.
It took Arthur some time to figure that the man was talking to him. "N-no..." he slurred.
...Wait. lost love?
The question bounced around in his skull. Suffering over lost love...
Well, was he? Did he actually love Alfred?
He did.
Everything began to click into place. The jealousy he felt at the prospect of America leaving him for someone else, the pain he felt at the younger nation's abandon. The emotions were overpowering. This wasn't the alcohol. This, he was sure, was love. If it really existed, he had found it. If he had ever felt it in his life, it was now.
Suddenly, he bolted from his seat and hurried out the bar in a haze. He was determined to go and find Alfred, to apologize, to spill out his true feelings.
But the question was: Did Alfred love him back?
Sorry for the lateness...
And the evil cliffhanger.