A/N: So this is the other half of my story You Loved Him. Yes it used to be a separate story, but then I realized that most people would only read one part so I decided to make this a two-shot instead of two separate stories. This one is from America's point of view, because I wanted to show his feelings. Please review! :D

Sometimes, Austria really got on your nerves. He was so prim and proper and aristocratic; he made you feel like a clumsy idiot whenever you walked past him. But sometimes you let yourself wonder about him. What would it have been like to be his colony instead of England's? Unlike England, you've never seen Austria raise his voice to anyone. But that doesn't mean it doesn't happen, so usually you just close your eyes and force yourself to stop thinking about it. After all, it's not like Austria would even want you as his colony. And that doesn't bother you one bit.

(But deep down, you wish he wanted you)

You have no idea when you started watching him. It was something that happened gradually; he was so graceful, and he had a particular way of doing even the smallest of tasks. If it had been anyone else, you would have assumed he was OCD, but you knew Austria wasn't. He just liked it when things were orderly; which was why you knew he would never like you. Sometimes, though, you wondered how many other nations noticed the little things about him.

(Secretly, you hoped you were the only one)

The first time he caught you staring at him, you smiled at him, hoping he would smile back. But instead, he looked down as if ashamed, and you hastily started a conversation with England. You didn't want Austria to think you were being a creeper, after all. If there had been a window behind him, you could have used that as an excuse. But there wasn't a window, so you forced yourself to watch England instead. Because you didn't like Austria like that.

(Of course you were lying to yourself)

You don't know why you kissed England. Possibly you wanted to know if his lips tasted anything like the tea he drank constantly. They did, and you liked it, but you'd always been more of a coffee person. And England didn't kiss anything like the way you thought he would. He was soft, gentle; you wanted forceful. So when you pulled back you just smiled, because you didn't want him to know you were disappointed. There was no reason for you to be disappointed, because you hadn't been comparing him to anyone.

(But really, you know you didn't have to compare him to anyone to be disappointed)

And after that, things changed. You rarely spoke to England anymore, because he was dating Japan and honestly you didn't want to talk to him anymore. The kiss had definitely changed something between you, but you didn't really feel like fixing it. Anyway, you were more worried about Austria. He wouldn't look at you; had even moved his seat down to the other end of the conference table. Sometimes you let yourself wonder if he'd seen you with England. But you didn't know why that upset you so much.

(But honestly, you knew exactly why you were upset)

Of course, once you realized that you missed the way your relationship-if you could even call it a relationship; you barely spoke to him-with Austria used to be, everything got much easier. You were naturally impulsive; it didn't bother you one bit to show up at his house uninvited. You needed a reason, of course, so you just told him you wanted to see a movie. And you would never have admitted it, but you were surprised when he accepted. But you were happy. So happy, in fact, that it didn't even faze you when all the offered movies were in German.

(Because you knew it was never about seeing a movie anyway)

The next time you invited yourself over to his house, you brought flowers. You couldn't help yourself; when you saw the bright yellow daisies you couldn't help thinking of him. It was only in afterthought that you realized you had never even considered what you would do if he had refused them. He didn't refuse them, though. And then he invited you in, because he'd accepted the flowers and didn't have an excuse to send you away.

(And you can't help the grin that crosses your face when you think about it)

You never expected him to say yes to your birthday invitation. You knew, of course, that he was dating Prussia; part of you assumed that he would be busy. But he wasn't, though you weren't surprised when Prussia came with him.

(You might not have been surprised, but you were undoubtedly jealous)

Honestly, you were ashamed at the feeling that coursed through you when Hungary called and told you that Prussia had broken up with Austria. You shouldn't have allowed yourself the moment of pure joy. But you did, and you were ashamed-for a second. Once you got over your guilt, you couldn't get to Austria's house fast enough. Of course, you weren't surprised when you found him playing the piano. He didn't even look up when you walked in, but you didn't mind. The piece he was playing was fascinatingly complex, so you just sat down on the couch and listened until he was finished. Then you stood, without any real idea of what you were planning to do.

But even you were surprised by your actions when you picked him up and sat him on top of the piano. You expected him to protest, but he didn't. He just sat there; if it had been anyone else they would have swung their legs, but this was Austria so he didn't move at all. He just sat there and looked at you. And then you kissed him. It was wonderful, perfect; everything you wished the kiss with England had been and more. Afterward, you hoped he would let you do it again.

(Really, you knew you would kiss him again whether he wanted you to or not)

After that, though, you let yourself be clingy. He never protested, and you knew that, really, that was as good as you were going to get. He would sometimes tell you when he really enjoyed something you did, and that was why you constantly tried new things. You would kiss him fiercely before walking away to talk to someone else at world meetings, though honestly you knew that was more for your own pleasure than his. And you made it a point to tease him in public, just because you found him irresistible when he blushed and nudged you and pretended to chastise you for being 'inappropriate'. You knew he didn't mean it, though, because sometimes you would catch him smiling at your gentle teasing. Of course, there were other things, too. You would whimper when he pulled away from your kisses first, just because you liked it when he would relent and let you kiss him again. You never said it to him because you knew he understood, but you loved him.

(And every time you looked at him, you knew he loved you back)