Author's Note:

haha finally a new chapter! I got lots of good reviews so i tried to not make this suck too much...i had writers block for the longest time and ive been working on another fic too. mayhaps check it out "Latvian Wedding". gah i have writers block for everything but you probably don't care so i'll shut up and let you at least try to attempt to not completely hate this. I'm off to wash my hair in boiling water now.


"You just don't care do you?! Do you?! You always leave me! This is all your fault! All you think of is yourself! I hate you!"

England's words echo bitterly in the back of America's mind as his flight leaves the barren road.

He honestly didn't mean to go to war with Iraq. It just sort of...happened. It couldn;t be helped. His country needed him.

Alfred and Arthur were ever so close at this time. They had at least been together as a couple for a year now, finally getting over their differences and becoming open to each other. Well almost open, for Arthur never really showed his actual feelings and it broke his heart to see his pouty brit become so emotional. He hadn't seen Arthur so heartbroken since....that time.

More guilt piles on poor Alfred as he remembers that day, the one seared into the back of his mind. A shattered England on the battlefield, screaming and sobbing and cursing. Alfred closes his eyes in regret. Maybe it is my fault..." he thinks. He shakes his head tries to settle his mind on something other than Arthur, probably crying alone now, with no one to comfort him.

---------------

England awakes in cold sweat and a hoarse throat from screaming. He had a most terrible nightmare. He had seen his beloved Alfred be killed right in front of his eyes.

His dream had started out alright, just him and his fairy friends sharing tea in a nice meadow. Suddenly, several fighter planes entered the scene and screams rang throuhgout the valley. Arthur frantically looked around for signs of help, but he turned to see Alfred jump in front of him before a series of bullets hit him, blood splattering around and on him. His hero, terminated right in front of him. This only brings more despair to poor lonely Arthur, who can only hope this doesn't happen.

At this time, he notices he is no longer on the couch he had fallen asleep on the night before, but in the very bed that he and Alfred shared. A blanket was still lain on top of him loosely, probably the American's doing. The pillows still smelled of America, giving a fresh round of tears to Arthur. He hugs Alfred's pillow, breathing in the distinct aroma that he longed for. Arthur curls up as tight as possible, trying in vain to find at least some form of comfort. He cried ever so softly, trying not to lose control like he had the night before. So suffered was he but even so, life would have to carry on the gentleman thought, so he literally forced himself out of bed and stomped out of the bedroom.

"Fuck it all..." he mutters, going to start a pot of tea.

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Arthur watches the boiling water in the teapot. Simmering, popping, steaming. He wishes he could pop so easily, just explode and never think twice about it. Just let life happen, come and go with whatever was thrown at him. To seethe and just become relaxed, but of course, this was an impossibility for him.

He pours some of the liquid into his cup, putting the small bag of herbs inside to brew. He blinks wearily and sighs, wiping tears from his face.

"I don't care about that bastard," Arthur thinks sourly, glaring at the tile floor. He picks up his tea to find his hand trembling, spilling some of the piping liquid onto his hand. England throws the cup in response, hissing in pain. He watches the cup shatter against the wall, tea splashing hideously against it. His knees buckle and he falls apart, sobbing again and just trying to make himself believe that he didn't care. But he just can't.


Author's Note (again):

OTL I know, short chapter. Don't kill me okay? Reviews keep me going, so review if you want to see more of over emotional Iggy…next chapter: Anger.

oh yeah, i wrote this piece of poo while listening to the song "Festival of Asylum". it inspired me, and i also wrote most of this during Algebra so it probably sucks. sorry but i promise the next chapter will be longer and more emotional.