Warning for this chapter! Because of...well...Russia! Enjoy~! :D
x-x-x-x-x
It had been ages since England had been home last. With France being an idiot like usual—stupid frog—England had been out at war for much longer than he had anticipated. He was glad to finally be home for multiple reasons. It had been such a long time since he had been able to just sit back and relax. And he hadn't seen America for years either. He had always been wondering about him while he had been at war, wondering how he was developing as a country, what he was doing. Maybe he was just about his height by now. He was excited to see how much more mature he had grown over the many years.
"America!" England called, looking around for his little brother. "America, I'm back!"
"England?"
At first, England didn't recognize the voice at all. He thought maybe one of his servants or generals were there taking care of America until he arrived. Then a man came around the corner, one that England didn't recognize. He was about to question him about why he had invaded his house when he actually looked him over. Blue eyes, light brown hair, a cocky grin that screamed confidence. England, green eyes widening with shock, realized that the man in front of him, the man that was taller than him, was America.
"A-America?" England stammered, barely able to believe it. Last time he had seen America, he had been just over a meter tall. He had been so little! But now he was forced to look up to look America's face to face. He had grown so much in just a short span of a few years!
"Hey! What's up British dude?" America said happily as he threw his arms around England. England was shocked by America's strength and felt like his lungs were being crushed by the force of his hug. He was still so stunned—how was America taller than him? How could he have grown so much in such a short period of time? Then, realizing he was being rude, he did his best to return the hug, seeing as his arms were pinned to his sides by America's strong embrace.
"It's been too long, America," England choked out, truly happy to see his 'little' brother. He had missed him and his excitement about everything. He could really use some happiness after all he had been through the past few years.
But the peace quickly faded away between them. England had been sitting while drinking tea, trying to settle into one of his very few moments of peace, when America came up to him. His expression was oddly solemn, but England took no heed to this. America sometimes just had weird things to say. "Yes?" England asked, knowing America had something on his mind.
"England," he said, his voice pained. "England, I…want to become independent."
England looked at him, about to yell at him for joking about such a thing. But once he saw America's face, he knew that he meant what he was saying. He barely heard the shatter of his teacup as his world shattered along with it.
He wanted to leave him, just like everyone else had.
x-x-x-x-x
England's eyes flew open, his heart pounding. He was breathing hard, a cold sweat on his face. With a groan, he threw his arm over his eyes, angry about his dream. Of all the things he had to dream of right now, he had to dream about how America left him all those years ago. He hated those memories, hated the pain, hated how whenever he saw America, he would be reminded all over again of how truly alone he was.
Suddenly, England realized that he was lying down. He removed his arm from his face to examine where he was. With a shock, he discovered that he was once again in America's room. A quick look around showed that America was nowhere to be seen. He growled as he sat up, frustrated. Even after England had been a complete ass, America had brought him in here to sleep again for the night. Meaning that he was sleeping on the couch. Again. Why did he have to make it so damn hard to be angry at him?
