A/N: Again, thank you, anyone and everyone! :)

XxXxX

America and the others split up, all going in different directions. Thankfully, no flights had been available at the time that England had left, so he's definitely still somewhere around. The problem is that the city isn't very small, which will make it harder for them. If they ever need to, they'll be sure to contact other nations for help, since it seems like it'll be hard for only a few people to do.

America searched all the places in his area that he thought England would be: a book store, a coffee shop (since they also sell tea), and even a small bar. Unfortunately, England wasn't at any of those places.

As time went on, his patience was thinning. He hasn't heard from any of the others, so obviously they haven't found England, either. That made America even more anxious.

England... where are you?

XxXxX

England has his head hanging low as he walks around the several of the alleyways that's in the city, tears streaking his face. For once, he didn't care about being in a very dirty place. He didn't care about anything right now, actually. America... the last person he would've wanted to find out about his secret... had caught him. Had cornered him. America probably thought he was even weaker now. Yes, he knows that America always thought of him as weak. He had proved it with his words during the war.

This was not good at all. Being the obnoxious guy he is, he probably told everyone about what he discovered.

England knew he should've told America to say nothing before he had run off like he did. But he had been so scared. He knew that if he had been held there any longer, he would've confessed everything about why he was doing all of that in the first place. He didn't Wang America to know anything about him trying to make himself stronger. America would probably just call him stupid. Or worse, laugh at him. Laugh at him for thinking he could actually beck strong again. That would be terrible. That would hurt England's pride even more.

It's raining now. It always seems to be raining on England's worst days. Yet, even do, England loves the rain. He loves the calming sensation it usually brings. Although, today, it just makes him feel even worse than he already did.

A flash of blue finds its way into England's vision. A very... familiar blue.

Is that... France? What the bloody hell is that frog doing out here?

It looks as though he was calling for someone. Although, England can't tell what he's saying, since the rain is drowning out all of the other sounds in the world.

England moves a little closer to where France is, making sure he's still hidden out of France's view. He hides behind a giant trash bin that's against the wall of the alleyway he's in. He can now hear France a little better, but the rain is still too loud for it to be clear.

"—leterre!"

He moves just a little closer and tries to concentrate on France's voice instead of the rain.

"Angleterre!"

No way. The frog was looking for him. There's no doubt about it that America told the others. That traitor. Even though England never directly said it, he should've known better than to tell the others. Then again, England had predicted that would happen. But he still had his hopes that America would've been smart in this situation...

England quickly stands up.

I have to get out of here!

He's about to run away when a sudden wave of dizziness overtakes him, his vision becoming blocked by darkness. He loses his footing and ends up crashing down onto the ground into a puddle of water.

"Angleterre...?!"

D-Dammit...

Those were the last thoughts he had before he fell unconscious.

XxXxX

The first thing England saw when he woke up was the color white. White... He always thought of that color as the representation of purity. Innocence. Something he knows he has lost. Or, perhaps, he never had it in the first place. Maybe he was born without it, forced to live within a world where nobody cared about or everyone just left him. Where no one wanted to be with him. Just forced to be alone in the darkness. Of course, he had his magical friends, but he, with the exceptions of Norway and Romania, was the only one who can see them.

But even though he's not pure, he's not dark either. He may complain a lot to others, but he's not always annoyed or angry. He doesn't hate everything. But even so, to others, he's not a very likable person. That's why he doesn't really have any real friends. That's why... no one likes to be around him... That's why he's always alone...

Tears spring from his eyes and roll down his face. Why? Why does he have to be such an outsider to the others? Why can't he be happy? America... He's always happy. Italy is, too. Same with France, Spain, and Prussia. Even Germany can be happy! So why can't he be happy with his life, too?

Life truly is cruel...

"England... a-are you... crying?" a voice nearby asks. That voice sounds familiar. That annoying, obnoxious voice. Rage overtakes England's body.

It's the voice of that bloody git! That damn traitor!

He suddenly sits up and moves to get out of wherever he is. That's when he notices that there's IVs in his arm. He looks around, his anger subsiding.

This whole room... was white. All of it was white.

White.

Purity.

Innocence.

He immediately feels mad again. Why is he surrounded by something he can never be? Are these people trying to make him feel bad about himself?

"England, what're you-?"

"Shut the fuck up," England cuts in with a menacing tone, causing America to instantly stop talking.

There are others in the room. England didn't see that before, but now he does. France is one of them. Then there's Japan, along with... Canada? Is that his name? Yeah, that's it.

France. He must've found him. He must've called America. He's obviously a traitor, too.

Everyone's looking at England as if he's insane. Maybe he is. Maybe he always has been. Being alone most of your life sometimes does things to you, after all.

Suddenly, England lets out a bitter laugh. What does he care? Let them think what they want. If they think he's crazy, then so be it. It's not his problem.

"Angleterre, are you okay?"

England glares at him. No. No, he was not okay. Was it not obvious that he's falling apart?

There has been times in England's life where he wishes he wasn't a country, but instead a human being. Not because of the hard work that comes with being a country, but because, if he was a human, he could easily just kill himself. There have been times where he has wanted to die. He never told anyone about that, though. They didn't have any right to know.

He thought it'd be wonderful to just die. To not have to worry about life anymore. But then he'd be reminded of the good things in life. That was all in the past, though, when there were actually good things to think about. Now there's only bitter pain. Loneliness. Darkness.

He hates it. He hates all of it. He hates having to go to the world meetings, to have to face all of the other countries, to be insulted. Oh yes, the insults. Everyone's always commenting on his eyebrows, his hair, his cooking, his age, everything. He's sick of it. He's tried to get them to stop, but it never works. Nothing ever works...

Unable to control himself and his dark thoughts, he bursts into a crying fit, burying his face into his hands.

He doesn't want to cry. All he's doing is proving to them that he's weak. That's the last thing he wants to do. But no matter how much he wants to, he can't stop crying. He feels someone put their hand on his back. He was about to move away when he looks up and sees that it's Japan, not America or the frog.

"You shouldn't cry, England-san," he says in a soft voice.

England looks down, tears still rushing down his face. Even though he's not looking at them, he knows the others are probably looking at him with worried expressions.

Worry.

Pity.

No, he doesn't want their pity. He hates pity, too. He wants to be looked at with admiration for being strong. But here he is, crying his eyes out, acting like a child. Why can't life ever go as he wants it to go? Why is it always against him?

Soon, he's able to calm himself down enough to where he's not bawling anymore, although his eyes keep spilling tears every now and then.

"Have you calmed down enough?" Japan asks.

England nods his head, staying silent, keeping his head down to avoid eye contact with any of the others.

"Then perhaps you can start... explaining yourself," France says, stepping closer to the hospital bed that England's in.