The Fake Smile He Wears

Chapter 6

MERRY CHRISTMAS YALL! Sorry about the late chapter. It's a bit shorter than normal and I apologize for that, I've been procrastinating a lot. I know this story sucks and all, but thanks for continuing to read this far. I'm glad for every single read I get, it makes me so happy. Seeing the number of reads makes me feel just a little bit happy. So thank you all. Really though, for continuing to read this crappy story with crappy dialogue and thoughts. On with the story
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France didn't know what to say. Not exactly. He wanted to convey something to America, to his son. The son he hurt and wounded so much. The son he didn't notice was in so much pain. The son he insulted. The son he thought me knew. There was a lot he didn't know, and a lot he needed to fix. So much. He couldn't believe that he lost the girl he loved the same way he did. The same way he lost Jeanne d'arc. The girl he loved, that didn't love him. It hurt like hell to see her burned down by his friend, someone he trusted and cared for, just burned. He forgave England a long time ago. He could never forgive himself, just like America. England didn't see France's reaction, he didn't know what she meant to him. He didn't know what he did wrong, and France was never going to tell. He doesn't want to make hime feel guilty. He didn't want to hurt him. France didn't exactly know what to say, but he was going to say whatever was in his heart.

"Ame- Alfred I mean. I'm sorry. I can't believe you had to got thorough something like this, so young. I know you blame yourself. Don't do that. I've been doing that for too long. I still blame myself to this day. She was important to me. I loved her a lot. I still do. I know that you probably do too. She wants you to be happy. Not like this. Be who you are. Don't hide yourself. Don't be like me. I blamed myself for centuries. Don't do that. Let go. It's not your fault. Fate has it's own special way of doing things. It may seem like you could've prevented it, but in reality there probably wasn't. Don't think about the what if's, think about now, the present. Be happy for her. I know how this all feels like. Watching her burn as she dies. It hurts like hell. To think that you couldn't prevent it. I know Alfred. I know." France said quietly. It brought so many thoughts and memories back. To think about her. His eyes were sorrowful.

"Who are you talking about?" England asked. It was the question everyone was asking. He was oblivious.

"It's no one. You shouldn't worry about her. You probably don't know her." France lied. He knew that he was the one who burned her.

"It's someone alright, you just had a huge speech about her. Who the bloody hell is she?" England asked rudely. He didn't realize what he had done.

"Shut up! It's none of your business anyways. Not that you would understand that. Just please stop. I don't want to talk about her." France snapped. After that Arthur became quiet. He seemed at lost for words. It's pretty rare, after all to see France angry or sad at all. France was usually happy. Or that's what it seems like. France put his head down. Couldn't Arthur realize, that this was a sensitive subject? He just wanted to run away from everyone. America probably felt the same. Just on a bigger scale. How did America get though this? How does he continue staying here, when all he does is want to run away? That's when America spoke up.

"Thanks. I really mean it. I know who you're talking about. She really was a hero. I looked up to her when I was little. She sacrificed everything for what she believed in. I wanted to do the same one day. She's a real hero, I wanted be everything she was. Cause I'm no way shape or form a hero like her. There was a lot of others out there, but she was special to me. I know what happened on that faithful day she died. I know that her death broke you. I know that. I can see it all the time. I know that she loved you. I just know it. You flirt because it's your defense mechanism. It's how you keep yourself together. It's how you keep yourself from going insane. It's sad how no one here notices how broken we've all become. I can see it. But I always knew that you would all be okay. And most of you are. Sometimes I just wonder if I'll ever get fixed." America stuttered sorrowfully. His eyes so lifeless. He didn't know what to do. No one knew what to say. Neither did he. But he was so thankful to France. He felt like no one in this world could relate. But, now he did. Though it isn't exactly a good thing. He just wanted someone to understand him. He knows he shouldn't be happy that someone else had to go though the same pain he had, but he just felt a small bit of joy. That small bit of joy that makes him feel so utterly guilty. He just wants someone to fix him. He's broken. He's been waiting for someone to fix him, but he doesn't even know if he can be fixed in the first place. His mind, heart, and soul, were damaged beyond what he thought was possible. His thoughts were interrupted by Liechtenstein trying to say something.