England walked down the hallway, his long cloak swirling around his ankles. America's room was just at the end of the hall.
England pressed the door open to tell the young boy goodbye. He felt slightly guilty at leaving him in the middle of the night, but he had important things to do.
More important than taking care of your little brother? the voice in his head asked. "Shut up, voice," he mumbled to himself.
"America," He spoke softly to the young nation, who was curled up in the corner of his bed, fingers wrapped around a stuffed rabbit. His glasses were bent at in an position that was sure to break them.
"You fell asleep in your glasses again," England sighed, removing the glasses from America's face and setting them on his nightstand. "What will I do with you?" America rolled over, blond-brown strands of hair brushing his eyelashes. "I have to go," England said. "I'll come back as soon as I can, all right?" He turned to leave the room.
"No," the young nation whispered. "Don't leave me. Please..." He coughed in his half-asleep delirium. England glanced away from America. He hated that the boy could effortlessly overwhelm him in feelings with a few words, without even meaning to. America had managed to bring down his intricately built identity, revealing the real England, whoever that was.
"Fine," he laughed bitterly. "I'll stay. For you, I'll stay."
Young America fingered a toy soldier in each hand. "This one is England," he explained. "And this one's me. And we're going to fight in a big war against France and all the bad guys and work together. Right?" he added, glancing up at England.
"Of course," the former pirate promised, smiling sadly at the young boy. He didn't know how easily the world could change, how the world's axis could completely change and friends could turn to enemies. "Of course."
Rain turned England's hair into a limp patch of blond. His uniform was streaked with a battle's worth of blood and dirt. "You used to be so great," sighed America.
He wouldn't meet England's eyes. His hair, brown in the rain, hung limply in his face. England couldn't help it; he cried. Words tangled on his tongue. Tears stabbed at his eyes.
"No," he mumbled. "No..."
And the world had turned on its axis.
His promise to America replayed in his mind, clear as water. He had broken it, a promise he had intended to keep forever. "I..." he whispered. America looked as though he expected more words from him, just something more, anything more.
"I'm sorry..."