The Things I'd Rather Forget // Countryhumans AU

Ch 2: Old Memories and Lost Tears // The Iris

France turned to the small country and smiled, "Mon fils (My son), you just defeated your père (father), you are strong enough." America still looked uncertain so his mother sighed and grabbed something from one of her senior officers- it was a small, purple flower in a pot, "Here, mon fils. This is an iris, a flower I hold dear. Think of your nation as this flower. You must water it, give it sunlight, and if you do, it will grow and prosper. If you can correctly take care of this flower, you can govern and lead a nation. Trust me."

France smiled at her son and kissed him on the forehead. He smiled back and said, "Thanks, mom. I promise that I'll take care of this flower forever."

~~-~~

America smiled at the memory. Of course, this iris wasn't the same iris that France gave him all those years ago, but America made sure that he always got a new iris when the old one died, as some sort of homage to the memory. When America was done watering the iris, he turned off the lights, put his sunglasses on the nightstand, and went to bed.

--~--

America heard a loud "Boom" and opened his eyes. He smelled a faint, metallic smell and... another scent that kind of smelled like rotten eggs. He was no longer in his room but in some sort of underground strategy room. His father was before him, wearing a military uniform reminiscent of World War I. Britain was talking determinedly about trenches, casualties, and land gains. America was confused, why was he here? Another loud boom sounded and the ceiling above shook. It looked like the ceiling was gonna fall on top of them. America's mind raced, 'Why am I here? It's 2019, not 1917, dammit!' His thoughts were disrupted by Britain yelling at him, "Son, pay attention! You need to focus on the plan, not your thoughts! It's our lives on the line here!" America looked at Britain, a confused look on his face. "Bloody 'ell," Britain mumbled to himself. Britain was going to explain the plan again to America when a French officer ran in. "Sirs, the higher-ups have ordered a retreat, German forces are breaking into our trenches. As a precaution, we need to take you two out of here!" Britain frowned, grabbed his son's arm, and started running after the french soldier, dragging his son along with him. They raced towards a military-owned transportation car, but before they got inside America turned to the battlefield, only to see a sight he wished he would never see again.

What looked like hundreds, maybe thousands, of bodies were scattered across the stretch of land known as No Man's Land. America could see some German soldiers running across the stretch of land, still alive and breathing; but, most of the people out on that terrifying stretch of land were dead, long forgotten fragments of times probably long gone. America's eyes widened when he realized he could recognize some of them as American troops. He could even name some of them. America felt tears on his cheeks as he named everyone he could recognize inside his head- Kevin, Lance, so many people... He saw people he could remember laughing with, people he remembered eating with, and people he considered friends crumpled on the mud, dead. As America was being shoved into the car, he put his hands on his head, wishing he could drown away the emotions, drown away these stupid memories like he had been doing for so long-

--~--

America woke up in a cold sweat. He was gasping for air, struggling to breathe. The American had long forgotten those days, and for good reason. He closed his eyes and curled into a ball and repeatedly whispered to himself, "I'm sorry I couldn't save you all, I'm sorry I couldn't save you all," America felt tears flowing down his cheeks and started to say sorry to every person he recognized from the dream. No, from the memory. After a while, America somehow cried himself back to sleep.

When America woke up, he felt an overwhelming sadness; but this time, he didn't cry. This time, America stood up and grabbed his glasses; however, he didn't put them on. Instead, he went into his bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes, that were scarred from pearl (something America is very self-conscious of), were red and puffy. It was obvious that he had been crying. America sighed, put his sunglasses on, and was about to go downstairs for breakfast until he noticed something on his hand.

On his hand, there was a small, black crack.

------

Hello again.

I edited this way too much hhhhhh

So ye.

I shouldn't be putting this much effort into editing but I'm a paranoid bean and I need help.

Anywho, Meri is in some deep trouble now.

And no, Rus will not show up in the next chapter, sorry my dudes. We'll get 'em next time.

Tschüss!

-Selva