His Last Smile

For England

Here we go... The image is credited to Google Images (lol search up "England Flag Wallpaper") This will be the third to last chapter, then the epilogue. I hope you enjoyed the story so far! Thank you and stay awesome, my fellow Hetalians!

(Thank you for actually listening to me and voting on my last chapter! Hope this one gets them quickly too! Goal at the end of chapter~)

~~For England~~

He was reluctant, but finally agreed with coaxing words from his brother and France. He knew, that if he did this, he would be saying goodbye to England, forever. But he had to do this. He had to let go of England, for England. Because this... this was what England wanted, right? And if England wanted it, he wanted it.

He would do it for England.

The funeral was decorated with Tudor Roses all over the place. If America recalled correctly, they were England's national flowers. If only he could be here. He would say something like "I have those in my garden. Mine are better, though." The thought brought a smile to America's face, but it disappeared as soon as it came. Because there was no more Iggy to say those words.

There was a statue of a lion at the feet of the coffin, its head held high. It seemed a little too weird to America until he realized that the lion was the national animal of England. He could imagine England next to him, saying, "How could you forget that, you idiotic wanker!"

It was too painful. He saw England everywhere, heard England everywhere. He couldn't bear it, to be knowing that he'll never see the messy blond nation again, but hearing his voice inside his head, whether it be shouting that he's an idiot or stuttering that he's not embarrassed or anything.

God, he couldn't do this.

The coffin was covered with an English flag. A red cross with white background in the middle. It seemed somehow ancient, and America was drawn into it. As he approached the coffin, he was stopped abruptly by his brother.

"Al, are you sure about this? We can... we can handle it without you if you want..." Canada trailed off. America knew that as sad as he was, he couldn't forget about his brother. And his brother was caring about him too... while he had other things to deal with.

"None can do, Mattie! The hero's gotta stay 'till the end!" America gave his twin a grin, but not anything like his usual. Though the tone of his voice suggested what America had been a month ago, his smile betrayed any of that. It wasn't his obnoxious smile, something that England would've smacked his head over. It was a soft one. Sometime when he was little, he gave England this smile. The following week, the food was... bearable.

Canada looked surprised, but America had already moved on. He was closer to the coffin, where England's cold body was awaiting him patiently. That was when he encountered England's worst enemy and longest friend.

"Amerique," he said. "if you wish not to be here, you can leave it to us anytime. Just know that we're here, okay?"

America knew, from England's letter and many other actions that England had done, that England really cared about the "bloody french frog." He was one of England's longest friends, the one who took care of him when he was younger, and someone who England decided to point out in his letter. He knew that France was not okay, either. Maybe he was even sadder than America.

And if France could do this, America could, too.

"No, I'll be fine, dude! Just worry about yourself, alright? The hero's gonna be fine!" he insisted, flashing a grin. It showed a glimpse of who America used to be, though if you reached deeper into that smile, you'd see something else. France did exactly that. He reached deeper, saw more than what America intended for him to see. Sadness, pain. Hiding, hiding, hiding. Unbearable. But you've gotta play the hero, since that's what you are. If France can do it, you can too. You are the hero. Hero's don't back out of situations, right? They can't retreat. Because people are counting on you, idiot.

This somehow reminded France of England. He knew a little of what the Brit hid behind his anger and insults. Yes, just a little, but much more than what the other countries saw and knew.

He had seen not hatred, but longing in England's eyes when the British man looked at America. Whether it was out of brotherliness or love, France did not know. But he did sense something in England's eyes, his expression, his hands, body motion.

England hid away from them. And it's the same with America now.

France wondered if, just if, England saw America's smile right now, the tears behind his eyes that he conceals, he would've thought twice about suicide.

But it's in the past now, and the past cannot be changed. And for now, France lets America go. Because this hiding is different from England's.

"Alright, then. But let us know, Amerique, me or Canada, if you want to go somewhere else. Oui?" America nodded and France walked away, to wherever. America didn't know, but he didn't care, either. It was as if his vision tunneled, as if it was only him and England's coffin in this universe. It was just like the little fantasy books he read. He had a target, and nothing could separate him from that target.

And as he reaches England's coffin, containing his dead body, wearing the green military outfit that he always seemed to wear, a single tear escapes the prison behind his eyes.

A/N: Yes this is the end of the chapter, now excuse me while I go write the second chapter

Yeah, I'm sorry. I wanted the next chappie to be the "America speaking to England's corpse" chapter (sorry again).

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and if you did, please leave a vote on it!

Vote goal: 11 votes