4th of July [USUK FanFiction]

4th of July

A/N: Nope, I don't write PewdieCry anymore.

Yes, I watch Hetalia now.

No, I still can't write original stories, only fanfiction.

Yes, I'm back. :3

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It wasn't the rain that depressed him. It wasn't the heavy weight of the sword that he clutched tightly with trembling fists, nor the thought of losing a war after so many consecutive victories. Even as he stood slouched over, panting with vigor as his eyes averted from his opponent's uncertain gaze, he couldn't bring himself to admit both his defeat and his tears.

Arthur would rather die than watch his beloved child leave him.

"I'm not a child anymore. I'm not your little brother!" shouted Alfred, eyes glittering with rebellion and the desire for freedom. "From now on, I am independent!" the younger blond declared, unknowing of the pain his words were causing. He was blind to the pleading look in his former colonizer's eyes, for his own were shrouded with his eagerness for independence. "If you're going to shoot me, then do it."

Arthur felt himself fall to his knees, unable to bear the weight of this departure and the weight of his exhausted self. Slowly, his hope waned and with it, his pent-up tears burst forth through green eyes as he struggled to speak. "As if I could do that, idiot..."

"Damn it... Why is this hapenning to me? I thought... we would always be together." he whimpered, eyes sparkling with the unshed tears staining them and falling down towards the mud. He felt pathetic, with the thought of his past glories that now meant nothing as he faced this dilemma, defeated.

Bright blue eyes gazed down at the fallen warrior by his feet. Alfred was dumbstruck as he noticed how their roles were now reversed; he was now looking down at the quivering figured that he once looked up to. "What happened?" he whispered, more to himself than to Arthur. "You used to be so great..."

The Brit remained silent, head hung low as he listened to the other's disappointed rant. It was true, he thought. The boy he once cradled in his arms was now a man, taller and stronger than him, and this man wanted to live a life independent of him now. His breath shuddered at the thought.

"I looked up to you... You were my hero." Alfred continued, walking towards the other and clutching his shoulders, disappointment evident in his large blue eyes as he forced the older, smaller man to stand up.

Arthur felt himself weaken at the other's touch and tried to resist, but his body wouldn't agree as he wrapped his arms tightly around the American's back and buried his face in his chest. Somewhere in his mind, he saw the reason for the inexplicable pain in his chest.

"I love you. Always, even before, ever since you were a child..." He knew that there was no point in saying it anymore - Alfred would still leave him even after he threw away his pride and his everything (he was the one who raised him after all) - but he had a feeling that if he didn't say anything at that moment, he would never have the chance to ever again.

And so even as Alfred answered him with painful silence, he merely closed his eyes and pulled away, forcing himself to smile, albeit weakly, and stretched up to kiss the taller man's forehead like he used to when Alfred was still a child.

And then he walked away.

Alfred could only watch as the man he called his big brother walked away from him. He brought this upon himself, yet he wondered what this excruciating sting by his chest meant. He knew that it was the right thing to do - he knew it in his head, but somehow, in the absence of Arthur, a hole had formed in the depths of his soul.

He swallowed down the lump in his throat. "But if you're with me, we'll both hurt..." Alfred muttered to himself finally, his voice lost within the howls of the rainy night.