:D . I'm feeling so motivated! USUK RULES! (but currently addicted to AkaFuri XD)

WARNING: DON'T TAKE FRANCE'SWORDS SERIOUSLY! ITIS HIGHLY DANGEROUS AND FICTIONAL! And used of Google Translate. Oh and swearing. No offense to any races.

I liked to thank my reviewers and those who have read this silly idea of mine!

Title: It's France's Fault

Chapter 8: The Turning Point

_USUK_

France looked at the nations before him, some are dead, some are happy, some just wanted to return to their home. And there are also some who are traumatized by the way of life like America and Russia. How the great have fallen!

America, after fighting England tooth and nail, escaped thoroughly traumatized and scathed from kiss marks all over his body .He somehow managed to find a way to escape England's clutches before hell broke truly.

He was then found by a group of campers near the place of incident composed of different races, a Prussian, Canadian, Japanese, Chinese, Spanish, Italians, Taiwanese, Korean, Filipino, German and so many others. Suspicious, right?

But by then he realizes the oddness of it, he was knock unconcious by a too happy Canadian supported by his group. He was then hospitalized for a day, kicked out by the doctors, brought carelessly to his house and was then left to fend for himself. Without beating by the bush, he was miserable and beat.

A week later, here they are as normal as they could be.

But something was amiss, something was not right. France naarrowed his blue eyes when he caught the faraway look of one Englishman, his eyes were distant and blurry and it seems as though he was not here in this world.

France frowned when he noticed the subdued manner of the crazy Brit today. The quirk of his lips deepened when he took the time to study him, he was mumbling to himself and his physical appearance seems a little too slim and his skin a little too pale for a healthy one.

One can say that he was not himself today. Not that he was himself for the past days or so.

"Angleterre? Are you alright?" France asked, worry laced his tone for his beloved rival in everything. England does not reply and instead continue his thoughtless mumbles. France's brows furrowed even more and shook the Brit for his attention but to no avail.

It was his loud shout that the others were notified of the Brit's state over the noises that they have in the meeting room. England lay down on the floor with unsteady breathing and unfocused eyes, fuzzy words wormed out of his mouth.

Germany growled, another day wasted for a good meeting session for the stupidity of everyone. Not that any meeting was good.

"America, bring England to his room. Now." He ordered angrily with mild worry on his tone. Today, he would celebrate his very long patience that had lasted for years now, so many long years he had been patient and now he would drown himself with German beers! German beers are awesome! Germans are awesome! Heck, Germany is awesome.

Mein Gott, he had been living with Prussia for too long he's rubbing off him now with his stupidity and narcissistic nature. Today would also be the day of his big brother's demise.

He can see it now. He smiled widely and laughed his awesome laugh with his awesome voice.

"Kesesesesesesesesese!" Germany covered his mouth and growled again. God, he's going to kill his brother today, any time, any place.

"Ah…." America commented to break the silence after Germany's Prussian rebirth that gave heart attacks to nations making them forget England momentarily.

Germany glared. He glared with all his German might, he glared hard. The nations looked away, pretending that they haven't seen the world ending with the Germans leading the way.

"I'll bring England then, goodbye." The American walked out the awkward moment with England on his hand carrying him gently like how a husband carries his wife.

"Awkward." Poland supplied, he supplied with his Polish wits.

Another silence befallen them.

_USUK_

His eyes were tired and heavy, as though he hadn't slept at all. His mind and body was tired and weary like he carries the world on his shoulder and his legs dragged chains of boulders.

The atmosphere around him was cold and empty and dark. And when he opens his eyes, he was surrounded by endless memories that had happened so long ago and memories of recent years and months and week s and days and hours and minute and seconds. Everything was his memories, every single dust and stone were his, he knows it.

He touches the transparent glass that separates him from the real world, from his control and feels his quivering chains broke bit by bit.

"What's happening? That's America. America!" He pounds desperately but his voice only bounces back inside his chamber. "What's happening here? Where am I?"

He saw America hugged himself. "Stop! That's not me!"

He saw them go to the Amusement park. "Stop! I should be the one there! Not that stupid wanker! America, please…"

And he saw him fall in love with Australia and Russia and tortures America with his violent love. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. That's not me…."

"Why?"

That's you, England. It had always been you. A voice so familiar to his ears spoke.

"What are you talking about?! That's not me! I don't control my body for the past few days! That's a foreign soul taking over my body!" He turns to the source of the voice but saw none.

That's you, the repressed England you had hidden for so long. You loved America, don't you? You loved him in so many different ways that your soul was confused. Was it you the one who had wished for his love? You said you would do anything for that. Your body was just showing what you can do for him.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! That's not true! I never want to hurt America! Yes, I loved him but I can never force myself on him." He turns once more to the place where he had heard the voice seeing endless darkness instead.

Really? But you used to be so big that you can do whatever you want. Even making him loves you by force.

"That's not true! What I meant that day was my desire for a chance to be with him!"

Little England loved him softly, brotherly, romantically, violently, carelessly, stupidly, hopelessly, blindly, angrily, painfully. Little England loved America no matter what. Little England wanted to show it so badly it hurt. It was your strong desire that you let the stupid potion of France to enhance your will to freely love America. You know what's France's plan was but still you chose to drink it still. It's all your fault then.

"That's stupid! I would never drink anything that the frog offers me!"

Exactly.

"England… Please be safe." The said Brit feels a tingle on his skin, a cold slide of the water that pricks his skin.

"What's happening now?" England looked back to his screen and sees America holding his hand close to his heart as his body trembles and shakes. His face flushed and his eyes , still open, were unfocused and hazy and his muttering never stops with his unsteady breathing.

Time was up. The potion was slowly diminishing and the change in the aura of your body shook the balance of your soul and mind, the potion had overthrew your senses for quite a time that your mind had a hard time coping up.

"It's France's fault! I just know it." England gritted his teeth angrily.

Of course not. It's your own fault, you and your pride. Had you not been so prideful, you might had have taken those chances given to you by America. Had you been honest, you might have been together by now.

"America does not give me chances for he does not love me back the way I wanted him to. And honesty leads to even more stupidity at times and stupidity hurts therefore honesty hurts." England looked back to the screen before him without looking to the source of voice belonging to jaded green eyes under thick eyebrows.

You had never been honest with yourself even when you had read the meaning between those insults he had thrown on you. Even when his touches and smiles lingers on you for far too long than necessary. In fact, you two had never been honest with each other.

"You're lying."

You knew beforehand that he had loved you, still loves you, long before he had realized it himself. He's stubborn too, but what can I say, the guardian you once were was as stubborn as a mule too.

"You're lying!"

How can I lie-

"Stop it!"

- when I'm the repressed you?

England looked sharply behind him and his eyes widen to see the lanky and thin structure of himself that seems had been famished from food and water and love. The lanky figure smiles at him gently, solemnly, honestly.

"What the bloody hell happens to you?"

Pain and repression happens. How sad really… It steps forward besides him and lightly touched the screen. If only that frowning pilgrims of mine uttered the words of honesty yesterday and maybe I do not exist today. Should you have the chance to kill me, England, I would gladly jumped on your sword and kill this ugliness that was our own creation of fear.

England looked besides him but it shook its head and pointed towards the real world. He saw what the famished figure saw.

He saw America opens himself before the sick England they saw. He saw him love openly and honestly behind the walls that separated them from the world.

"America… he…" England's voice hitched and it smiled at him and nodded.

He loves you, yes, he does. All this time behind his insults and stupidity and his lies, he loves you. Stubborn he was yesterday, today he's honest. I wonder when will you do the same?

"I don't know when and I don't know how but if he will let me then I can." The lanky figure smiles at him gratefully.

When that day comes, I would thank you for my death.

"When that day comes…" England mumbled the same time as the sick body of his does.

"England? What day are you talking about?" America asked to the mumbling England of the real world. England does not reply and instead muttered some more gibberish. The American sighs.

"Get well soon, you stupid old man. Or else." America frowned deeply and then added solemnly, "I would be really sad."

America does not say how he loves him so in words but in his actions. His unspoken feelings he had tried so hard to deny. He got tired of that charade, maybe today and for the rest of the time of the world he would be honest.

He wonders if his honesty would lead to England loving him. Maybe someday.

And when that someday would not come, he would accept it as such and still continue loving this jaded man before him. That was love really is, it either breaks you or makes you.

A selfless act of giving oneself wholeheartedly to the man who can either destroys you or makes you the happiest man. That's love.

America smiled lightly and kisses England's forehead before giving in to slumber.

Sleep well, America.

_USUK_

Awww, what a sappy and selfless man America was in there! You should be Cupid, America!

Sorry for the delay! But here I am now with this sappy chapter. I apologized for the lack of humor! XD

Review!