England was having a bad day. Hell, he'd been having a bad day for the past week. But the one thing that was capable of making his day worse went and showed up.

France.

"Bloody frog! Go the hell away! I am not in the mood today-" England was cut off by the Frenchman's hand.

"Angleterre, I know about America."

And then England ran. He pushed past the Frenchman, and almost made it to the street. But his arm was caught. And then he was in a full body lock.

No! He had to get away, he had to leave. He couldn't face this, it hurt his nonexistent heart!

But Spain and Prussia dragged him back into his house. They pushed him onto a couch and barred his exit.

No. No no no!

"Angleterre, you need to face reality."

"Frog! I don't know what you're talking about."

"Mi amigo, you don't understand. You have to stop hiding."

"Shut up! You don't know me! I'm the bloody United Kingdom and I do not hide!"

England was a brave person. In war, he could rush straight into the face of the enemy and not even blink. He could stand on the edge of a cliff, sail dangerous seas. But he could not face love. Because love was far more painful than a knife through the chest.

"Prussia." France said. "Get the stuff."

"What stuff? Talk you bloody frog! I swear I'll kill you!"

But Prussia pressed a cloth to his face, and England passed out.

OoOoOoO

Two nations woke in a dark room with a massive headache. One was from a hangover, and the other was from chloroform.

"Oh god, I swear I'm never going to drink again…"

"Ha, I've said that my whole life." England said to the stranger.

"Hello? Who's there?" Was it America's imagination, or was that a British accent?

"Oh no…" England whispered. It was America. Bloody America.

Where was the door? A window? Oh god, he had to get out of here! England stood up quickly, but apparently his head wasn't ready for that yet. He crashed to the floor with a loud 'thump'.

"Hello? Are you okay?" America asked, and England could hear shuffling towards him.

He couldn't handle this. His chest ached so much…

"Is it you, England?"

No! No! My name is Dave! I don't know what you're talking about!

"Yes, it's me…"

The shuffling stopped. "I'm sorry."

England sat up slowly. "Sorry for what?"

"I'm sorry for declaring independence. I'm sorry for being a coward. I'm sorry I couldn't be your hero. I'm sorry for never saying sorry."

England couldn't say anything.

Denial is a heavy burden, you see. After so much hurt, you start to forget how to heal. And England's life had always been full of hurt. But here was America, offering to bandage all those wounds. But then again, some wounds would never heal.

His heart.

When that family member, your own brother, your kin, decides to look you in the eyes as he cuts himself out of your chest,

That is true heartbreak.

They might be able to be put back, but it would be messy and it would never fit just right once again.

Because they crippled you. Unlike the other "heartbreaks" this one leaves you truly missing something. It really is gone.

"America, I just can't love you…"

America backed away. How come the words that played through his mind constantly hurt so much when said aloud again? "Why?"

"Because you took my heart, I can't love."

"I'll give it back!"

"I don't want it, it's a useless thing. Love is stupid."

"Don't say that! Love is…okay, love hurts. It sometimes takes more than anything else. But it's just love England. We can't help but fall in it!"

"How can you say that after everything?"

Love is indescribable to those who deny it. We have all felt heartbreak.

But one cannot classify love with the end of love. Love is during, the beautiful roller coaster ride that makes you smile and scream and throw your arms up in pure ecstasy. But heartbreak is the end, when the bar rises, bumping your chin on the way up. And as you exit the ride, turn your back on it, you feel dizzy and hollow.

But you still head towards the next ride.

"England, just give me a chance. Please."

"I gave you a chance! But you went and declared your independence!"

"Give me a second chance."

A second chance. What is the meaning of a second chance? Doesn't history always repeat itself? England has seen plenty evidence of that. But to be released from this eternal aching…

But why would he even consider this? Because if he was considering this, then he would have to love…

Oh no.

Yay for rushed short updates! I'm on vacation, so sorry. I didn't edit this, so...

Anyways, critique is loved! Reviews keep me writing.

Thanks so much for all the favs/reviews/alerts!

-Mallory