Playing the Fool

Chapter 1

'And the day had started so good too,'

Alfred F. Jones (AKA America) thought to himself, as the sound of his cheek being slapped by Arthur Kirkland (AKA England) echoed quietly. Breathing heavily, Arthur glared at the blank expression on Alfred's face. The whole room fell silent, no one daring to speak in fear of what the clearly enraged Brit might do next. Only the sound of the glasses Arthur had smacked off Alfred's face, clattering a small distance away on floor broke the silence.

"When will you bloody grow up!? How many times must we repeat the same thing over and over again!? You are such a child America; I thought I raised you not to be such a bloody twit!"

England fumed, waiting for the American to respond in his normal annoying way which would result in Arthur slapping him again. Silence was the only answer to the Brit's enraged demands; America didn't move a single muscle. Just stared blankly at the wall his head had been forced to face from the impact of Arthur's hand. Eye's shadowed by the wheat colored locks of hair hanging over his face slightly.

As new tension in the room rose slowly, as the seconds of the normally impossible to shut up American said nothing, did nothing. Except stare unseeing at the world around him. Arthur had calmed down enough to fully realize what he had done; breathing a little unsteadily he lowered his gaze to the floor. Regret cooled the fire in his eyes, pulling at his shirt nervously he waited for Alfred to say something. Anything really so he could either apologize or rekindle the rage he'd felt towards his former colony and younger brother.

Seconds seem to last hours, until finally Alfred lifted one hand to lightly touch his cheek. A smile slowly grew across his face, but not the same smile he'd been wearing moments before the Brit hand smacked him. Laughing to himself as the tension in the room grew thicker and ticker, until he stopped suddenly still not looking at anyone

"Your right... your right, but then again you were always right weren't you England... I am a child, I do need to face facts and grow up..."

Slowly lifting his now serious face, Alfred continued to stare at the wall. England flinched at the sight of the American's eyes. Hard and cold as ice, all traces of warmth and light had vanished. These were the eyes Arthur knew too well, these were the eyes of a man who'd seen war. The same England had looked into during the battles of the revolution.

"A-america I-"

England's voice died as the American turned to stare evenly at him,

'This isn't right, this isn't the America I know, this isn't the little boy I raised'

England thought as Alfred waited quietly for him to finish what he had to say, but England couldn't find the words to say much less speak to the rather intimidating American. A bitter smirk spread across Alfred's face; chuckling to himself he patted England's shoulder

"Times have changed Arthur; it took you to finally show how the world truly is. Life goes on; let's move on from the past. The two of us arguing won't change anything,"

Turning he walked smoothly over to pick up his now broken glasses, Alfred's bitter smile faded completely. Going over to the trash bin he half heatedly dropped them in,

"Besides I've grown tired of playing the fool..."

(To be continued...)