Arthur Kirkland's Problem

  Read: I do not own Hetalia, that right belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya!!  I don't own anything except the story-line, and if someone's used said storyline, please tell me and I'll either give you credit or take it down, depending on your wishes!

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"You bloody git! How dare you insult the Great British Empire?" a man with blonde hair, vibrant green eyes, unusually thick eyebrows, and an english accent roared in fury.

   "'uo ar' not a 'mpire anymore! 'nd 'ven if you were, what 'ind of 'mpire 'ould lose one of zhier countries?" another man, this one with shoulder-length blond hair, blue eyes, perfectly regular eyebrows, and a french accent shot back.

        'He has a point.' a voice sounded in his head. This had happened before- Arthur mainly just ignored it. It was probably a demon; he did drabble in the dark arts, after all.

      England visibly winced and shrank back; that wound was still healing. So he wouldn't lose an argument to that bloody wanker, France,  he stuck out his middle finger and fled, but he did so in a manner that implied him winning said argument. He pretended not to hear the profanities and sputtering behind him as he raced through his country's streets, knowing them better than the back of his hand. He cursed in a very ungentlemanly way when London started pouring rain. His apartment was only  few blocks from here, and if he sprinted the entire way, he wouldn't have to wait the storm out in a shop...

      He decided to do so, but by the time he made it to his apartment, he was soaking wet. Ticked off, he slid his silver key into his door's lock and turned, opened the door, and stepped inside his now-freezing apartment. He slammed the door shut with his foot, not bothering to lock it, and peeled off his clothes. He placed them in the washer and grabbed a towel. Once dried, he put his green pjs on and plopped on the couch in front of his tv, doing so dejectedly. Curse that Frog, putting him in a sour mood. Again.

        'What about the Empire remark? Doesn't France have something better to do than bug you? Like dying. I could do that for you- for a price.'

     The brit tried to focus on other things, like scone making, or the weather, but his mind kept going back to what France had said. What kind of an Empire lost one of their countries? He knew the answer: an English one.

        'America left you, too. How sad.' Then his thoughts wandered to the American revolution.

      Why would America leave him? He knew it was buried past, but feelings of hurt and betrayal leaked into his heart anyway. He tried to give America anything he wanted - so why? How could he just leave him there, sobbing, in the cold dirt, with a ripped heart torn into a million pieces? It wasn't fair! Why? Engalnd didn't notice the tears rolling down his cheek, growing faster with each thought. He grabbed a couch cushion and squeezed it, holding it to his chest. The only reason that he was so hard on America was because he wanted what was best for him! Why couldn't America understand? 

        'I knew that you were still hurt about that.' the smug voice in his head whispered.

         He fell asleep like that, with tears streaming down his saddened face, clutching the poor defenseless cushion like a life-line. But his dreams consisted of the American revolution, replaying over, and over, and over. 

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          Engalnd slowly opened his eyes, groaning in the effort it took. A single beam of sunshine was hitting his face,angering him. His back ached because he had slept on his couch, and his muscles were cramped like none of your buisness. He rolled onto the floor, where he lied for a few moments, trying to forget his dream- 'more like a nightmare', the british man thought.

        Slowly, very slowly, he got up and went into his room to get ready for the day. There was a world meeting in London today, after all.

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At the World Meeting:

          "-And that's why we should construct a giant superhero to save the world!" America practically yelled.

          " I agree with America-san." Japan said.

          England remained silent, even though this was where he normally put his imput on the matter. All of the contries suddenly shut up, looking at England as if expecting something. He groggilly put his head down, into his folded arms, on the table. Some countries gasped, some coughed awkwardly, and some just stared. The self- proclaimed gentleman never put his head down in a meeting-  that was improper!

           The truth was, England was still in the dumps about his dream. He just couldn't fathom the reason why America would desert him! It wasn't fair.... 

             "Dude.... are you crying? " America asked unbelievingly. England suddenly jolted upright and put a hand to his wet cheek. He was crying. He looked at his elbows and noticed that they were soaking wet. He hadn't been crying, he had been silently sobbing.  

            He stood up, well aware that all eyes were on him, and said quietly," If you'll excuse me, I need to go outside for a moment.", and he left the meeting room, ignoring America's cries to come with him. He walked slowly to the lage garden that was outside the building, holding back tears the entire way. Once he got outside, though, and into a secluded area surrounded by trees, he broke down, slumping against one of the trees and letting all his tears out. There was no reason to hold it in, right?

        'You're so weak.. But the others are worse. They didn't follow you, did they? They obviously don't care.' the voice said.

           After what seemed like a few minutes, he collected himself and began to walk back to the meeting, only to realize that said meeting ended 35 minutes ago. He walked to the edge of the grass, almost into the road, and hailed a taxi. 

            The ride was long and quiet, and after England paid the driver, he went into his apartment on the second story and thought some more about the revolution. 'Collect yourself, you git. It was just a snarky remark that bloody Frog said to tick you off.'  England told himself, but then came across a horrible thought: 'That Frog wanted to take care of America, also. So.. even if I didn't exist, America would still be here. And I'm the only one that seems to be affected by the Revolution. So.... my life is meaningless?'

        'Yup.' the voice said.

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Sorry for the short chapter, but this idea came to me late at night so I couldn't write too much! Sorry! Please tell me if it's halfway decent, I promise it'll get better!  And if it sucks, I'm sorry for that, too. It's my first written fanfic ( even i I have plenty in my mind ), and so please don't make me lose will-power!! Comment~!