Chapter 14: The Game

England awoke in the empty bed yet again. His eyes slowly opened, expecting to see someone next to him, but he just closed them again when he saw that the American wasn't there. He sighed and rolled over, his body still aching when he moved. He flung his hand onto his forehead and let out a deep breath. Why would Alfred be here, he thought, I've been sleeping much later lately. But… so did Alfred? Why wasn't he ever here anymore?

England closed his eyes again and let his forearm cover his eyes from the sun shining in. He didn't appreciate all the avoidance, not one bit.

America came into the door quickly and went to his dresser, grabbing a tie then attempting to put it on the mirror. Usually, he would just ask to help but today was just another day of avoidance.

"Good morning sunshine." England said as he slowly sat up in the bed. America seemed to simply ignore him as he tied the tie. "Or you can just ignore me too that's fine."

America finished the tie but didn't look toward England. "Breakfast is on the counter top if you're hungry." He grabbed his suit jacket and threw it on, fixing it up in the mirror. England watched him… then started to chuckle. America looked over at England confused.

"What the bloody hell is your issue? Huh?" England snapped, "You're mad! I get it! But at me? Really? Are you mad that I got shot? Are you actually mad that I got shot? Seriously?" England certainly expressed his frustration, which sent pain coursing through his chest so he had to sit back and take a couple calm breaths. By the time he finished calming down, America had stopped moving around and just stood there looking at him.

"That's not-… no." America managed to choke out.

"Then what is it Alfred? Huh? Because everything seemed to be perfectly fine until I got shot. You're ignoring me! Everyday Alfred! You're obviously mad! So what? I'm sorry I got fucking shot, I couldn't really avoid it." England took a couple more deep breaths and rubbed his temples. America backed up and stood against the wall across from England, he stayed quiet and looked blankly at England. England sighed as he looked back up at America… Guilty…. He looks guilty… like a child would if he broke something he wasn't even suppose to be playing with, something that wasn't even his. "Its… not your fault… Alfred."

America stayed silent, opening his mouth to say some heart-felt apology, but instead, "Breakfast will be cold soon." He quickly left out the room. England sat there listening to him go down the stairs and slamming the front door on the way out to his business meeting.

England sat still, looking down at the sheets that still covered him. He dropped his head into his hands and took a deep breath. So, he thought, he thinks it's his fault?... of course… He made his way out of bed and slowly stomped down the stairs.

He was used to his new daily routine of showering, drinking morning tea, playing with America's cat, and doing some chores as long as they didn't exhaust him. When they did exhaust him, he went into the study and did some paper work. Everyday was the same, by himself because America made all efforts to avoid him and not be home.

This day would be different. England went through the usual routine, showering, drinking tea, some chores, then seeing America wonder in and go to his study. England grabbed his coat and wondered out onto the streets, making his way down to the Grocery store. Smiling on his way down, he wondered inside and grabbed a shopping cart. He suddenly stopped and his smile faded as he came to his senses. He really can't fucking cook. England put the shopping cart back, ended up buying a pack of gum, and wondered back outside. He snapped the gum as he looked across the street to find a Boston Market, ready for dinner. His smile came back as he walked across the cross walk to the busy store. He waited on line patiently, then ordered what he thought would make a good dinner for the night. He wondered back home after paying, went into the kitchen and began to take out the food. On the table he placed a nice rotisserie chicken, some mashed potatoes, corn bread, stuffing, cooked green beans and carrots, and a brownie desert. He set out two plates, some forks and knives, and even lit a candle. He then called America and asked him to come downstairs.

He didn't respond.

England wondered upstairs and knocked on the study where America was. He cracked the door open, "Hey, there's dinner for you." He saw the American hard at work, not even turning to acknowledge him.

"I'm not hungry." America said.

"Come on, you'll like it. I didn't cook."

"No thanks."

England frowned. "Please?"

"I said no Arthur." America's voice raised a bit.

England was taken back, surprised at America's anger. He slowly closed the door and went back down stairs to eat his meal by himself.

Once England went to bed, America wondered down stairs to what was left on the kitchen table: a plate of food with plastic covering on top of it to keep it fresh and the now burnt out candle… He frowned.

OOOOO

"You promised me a baseball game." England said. America looked up from his breakfast toward the Brit, but then looked down and started playing with his eggs. "Come on, you said you would show me a game. Let's go to one, I'm sure there's one."

"The next game is tomorrow I can't get tickets."

"You're bloody America, I know you can." England crossed his arms and gave a small smile. America looked up at the Brit again and let out a sigh.

"I'll check the website then." He took out his phone and began searching. England took a couple more bites of his dinner, looking over toward the American's phone to see if he was in fact looking for tickets. America made a, what looked to be, a sour face. He moved up a bit and took his wallet out of his back pocket, taking out his credit card.

England's eyes lit up, "Ah, you found seats?"

"I did, two left."

"That's lovely, we're going then?" England smiled, America only nodded. "Exciting!"

"Are you sure you can handle going?"

"Alfred I'm pretty much healed, another night of sleep should really do it. I'll be fine."

"I meant cause you're an old man." America made a smirk. England, a frustrated blush.

"Listen here you little brat-"

"Oh! Look at the time! I need to feed the cat." America jumped up and quickly left the room then called, "I'm sure you don't mind cleaning up right?"

England sat there, greatly frustrated, but then smiled. He cheered up, he's excited.

Hopefully, tomorrow will work out.

OOOOO

The blaring sounds of horns, the children laughing and screaming along the sidewalk- America was so loud. England looked out the window, watching everyone go by with gloves in their hands. "Are we there yet?" He questioned. America glared over at the Brit.

"You did not just ask me that."

"Well we've been sitting in traffic for however long and the bloody stadium is right there."

"Okay welp, nothing I can do about traffic okay?" America sighed before cars in front of him finally started to move. "See? We're moving now, its fine. Almost there." They pulled into the parking garage and jumped out, America grabbing the gloves he had brought with him, along with a baseball cap. He threw it on his head then threw a glove to England, who just barely managed to catch it.

"What's this for?"

"Fly balls, you catch them. It's a just in case thing." America locked the door then grabbed England's hand. "Now come on, hurry up!" He smiled in excitement and pulled the Brit close behind him.

He followed the American down the street and into the stadium. He looked around as he saw hundreds and hundreds of people walking around to find their seats, the stands of food and prizes drawing customers in, mascots walking around greeting the little kids who came in. The smell of hot dogs and burgers, beer and more beer, sweet smells of cotton candy and popcorn filled the air. England held onto America's hand tightly as he was pulled through the crowd. They found their seats easily, a little more than half way down to the front, and readied themselves for the game. England sat there like a little kid at his first baseball game, looking at the field and the people around him. America sat back and waited for the game to begin.

The players took the field and America sat up, somewhat eager for the game. England watched as they threw the first pitch. Right on the first pitch, the batter hit the ball far, into the outfield where the fielders went for it. England got super excited as the race for the ball began, everyone yelling as the batter slid at first base, just making it. America cheered with everyone and England joined in. After that, it was less exciting.

"What happened?" England questioned. America looked over at him. "The first guy did the thing with the goals and then the second guy didn't do much and the third guy didn't do much and the fourth guy got out when he hit and now it's the same thing again with the other team and- is this what baseball is?"

"I never said it was super exciting all the time." America smiled. England shuffled in his seat as he watched the game.

"I'm getting hungry."

"I'll go get some hot dogs. You want popcorn or anything else?"

"Um, sure." England said.

"You want soda?"

"Fizzy? Sure. Cola please."

America ignored the Brit's slang and climbed over him to go up and get the food. England sat there looking out at the game going on in front of them. Eventually the American came back with the food, almost spilling it all over England as he sat back down. He passed a hot dog to England with some ketchup and mustard, then the thing of popcorn and his soda. England juggled everything in his hands before finally putting it all in place. He sat there trying to put the mustard on his hot dog as America put ketchup on his. England took a bite.

"Yeah you eat that long hot dog." America commented. England chocked on his food but America just smiled and began eating too. When he was done coughing, England shot a glare toward the American and smacked his arm.

Halfway through the game, after all the snacks were done with, they sat back and watched as the players switched positions again. England, finally getting pretty bored of this stupid game, started to fall asleep. America looked at him then back at the game, and at the right moment too. That moment, the batter hit a fly ball, flying into the crowded stadium right over to their section. America smacked England awake and threw his glove on, lifting it up into the sky of many other gloves as the ball came hurling over. England, in shock, covered his head as the ball landed right above him in America's glove. The cheering crowd settled down as America showed off his ball as he slid back down into his chair, nudging England to tell him it was safe to put his arms down. He did and looked at America sitting there with a smirk on his face and the baseball in his hand. "Put your hand out." He said. England listened and America popped the ball down in his hands. "First ballgame and you already got a ball."

"This is for me?"

"Yeah, take it. I caught it for you."

"A-are you sure we can just take it? They were using it."

"They have a bunch of baseballs Iggy." America smirked. "Its yours."

England smiled and tossed the ball between his hands. He looked at the smiling American… he was happy again.

The game came to an end with their home team winning, the team America of course wanted to win. No one left though, the announcers' voices bombarded the stadium as they announced their firework show. The show began soon after some short announcements about this place or that place. Fireworks lit the sky with flashes and colors. At first, England was uneasy with all the loud booms, as was America. Reminders of bombs going off set the two of them off. England settled down though, then rested his head on America's shoulder. America calmed down with the feeling of the Brit next to him then relaxed into his seat. They watched the fireworks together, seeing the stars and sizzling streams dance across the sky above. "I love you." America could hear. He slightly looked over at England and gulped.

"I… love you too." He said and smiled, but that soon faded. "I'm sorry."

In the mix of all the fireworks, he knew England wouldn't look to find a tear from his eye.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Author note!

Hey, I am sorry I have not updated. It's been a very difficult road. I fell into a great depression and honestly I couldn't even write. I felt too upset or uninterested or too bored to do anything at all. I have fallen out of the Hetalia fandom since, so it's a little harder to write on top of the fact that I've been very busy with classes and work and such other things. I have come to the point where I had forgotten a lot of what I wanted to write, but I will try my best to gather what I had thought and finish my fanfictions, all of them. I want to at least finish them because my time on and Wattpad and DA was a great time. I hope I have some followers that will stay with me and even some that will finish these fanfictions with me. Just as an end. I will put more into an apology and a goodbye in the last chapter. Until next time!