Save Me.

A Final Farewell.

(This chapter is dedicated to Ali. Thank you for reading, even though you don't ship it.)

Everyone showed up to the funeral, even France. Nobody was wearing black, it was a requirement that everyone wear something colorful. That was America's idea. I remember once he told me that he wanted a FUN-eral: no crying or depressing colors. Just happy clothes and smiling people. He said nobody should mourn for him, that he wanted people to celebrate the life he had, not the life that had been lost.

So there I stood, surrounded by a sea of faces. Living, breathing bodies all dressed in a variety of colors. No formal wear, only casual. The clothes I was wearing set me apart from the others though; they weren't mine. From the red skinny jeans and American flag tank top, to the dark brown Aviator jacket was all Alfred.

Taking a deep breath I walked up to the slick black casket. America was wearing his favorite pair of pajamas; it was as if he was asleep. I let out a small chuckle at the thought, running my hand along the edge of the wood. I could feel multiple pairs of eyes watching. Slowly I leaned down and placed a kiss on his cold lips. Giving a final farewell I turned and made my way through the mass of countries.

As I was leaning against a tree, away from everyone else, France approached. He wore black suit paints and a pink button up. Not a word passed between us; I moved forward to meet him, and his arms engulfed me. My forehead rested against his shoulder. He let out a small sigh, rubbing my back soothingly. Sometimes it was nice having him as a big brother.

When the funeral was over France walked me back to the car, I don't think he planned on leaving me. I could tell that he was scared I would do something to be with America, but I wouldn't. Even if I wanted to, I knew America wouldn't. So, France drove with me to a house. A messy house with not enough food and unwashed clothes. He helped me gather all of America's things.

He also helped me package and ship it all to my own house. Though I wasn't left there, we sat next to each other on the plane and in the taxi. No words were spoken to one another until we arrived at my house.

"Je t'aime," France said, once again pulling me into a hug, "I love you."

I closed my eyes and bit my lip as to not start crying again. It didn't work. Silent tears cascaded down my cheeks, causing the shoulder of Frances shirt to turn a shade deeper. He rubbed my back in an attempt to calm me.

After a few minutes I pulled away, taking deep shaky breaths. France looked at me, sadness gleaming in his eyes.

"Why don't you stay here tonight?" I offered, willing him to say yes.

"I don't see why not, I'm already here."

France tried to get me to eat, but I couldn't stomach anything. And so we resorted to watching cheesy cartoons. They didn't help. When at last bedtime arrived we parted ways, me going to my room and France to a guest room.

Sleep did not come easy, but when it did it didn't last long. I awoke from a terrible nightmare, that caused France to come running. Sobs racked my sweaty body.

"Oh, mon frere, come here." He walked over and sat on the bed, taking my hands into his. "You are strong, and I know you will get through this." He kissed the top of my head and pulled me into a hug. He stayed with me until I fell asleep. I knew I could get through this, but I was grateful for the support. Heaven knows I needed it.

America may be gone, but he still lives on in the minds and hearts of everyone who's ever laid eyes on him. He was such a free spirit that, even if annoying at times, everyone loved. Especially me.

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And this is the final chapter. I'm not completely satisfied with the ending words, but will keep them. Also I have decided not to do a happy ending.

Je t'aime! Remember to comment how you think it was!