Hetalia One Shots

Their Friends and our friends are not friends. -Ameripan

Slightly sad fanfic based on a meme :,) That's how I roll. Enjoy my low quality photoshop image.

America's heart was aching, sure, it was a dramatic way to put the emotions he felt. But it was true. He closed his eyes and tried to remember how nice those days used to be, when he and Japan were friends. Those days were sunny, and full of joy. Now, everything felt foggy. Was it his fault? Surely, it wasn't. America stared longingly out the window, it felt like the past days were just a dream. Wars couldn't be avoided, Japan had to stand alongside his friends and America had to stand behind his. America's friends and Japan's friends were not friends, that means they too could not be friends. America had to accept it, surely the pain would go away soon enough?

"Shut up frog face!" England yelled as France was half-way through a dramatic monologue. "There are more important things than your unhealthy obsession with being a jerk face!" France coughed awkwardly, Russia continued smiling while the squabble was taking place. "Where the bloody hell is America? As happy as I am that he's not here, I don't wish to repeat myself to him" England said, while shooting Russia an accusing look. Realising that Russia had been in the meeting room the whole time, he tries to think of another answer. Luckily, China was quick to think of an answer, "Perhaps America slept in, aru?" England was somewhat impressed, usually his fellow allies did not give him reasonable answers.

"I will go check on him, I hope he hasn't ended up dying on us," England said while walking out the door.

England knocked gently on the door of America's house. No answer. England knocked a bit harder, but nobody came to answer the door. England found that the door was unlocked. He knew trespassing was wrong, but so what? Maybe America forgot to set his alarm, again. When England walked into America's room, he saw a terrible sight.

The heroic boy had shrunken down into a pathetic excuse of his usual self. He was sitting on his bed, hugging his knees and had his blanket wrapped around him. His eyes lacked their usual sparkle, they were dull and unexpressive. The young man didn't even acknowledge England's entrance, instead he continued to stare longingly out the window. America looked odd without his usual bright demeanour to say the least. "America?" England asked in a quiet tone. America slowly turned his attention to England, his voice lacked it's bright quality. His voice was quiet, just a tad louder than a whisper, "What do you want?" England's eyes softened, his eyebrows fell slightly. A small smile formed on the British man's face. He calmly walked over to America's bed and sat on the end of it, America did not seem to want his presence nor did he seem to push him away. "I heard you might not have been feeling great, what's up?" England asked. America bit his lip, he struggled to push words out of his mouth. His body was weighed down by the miserable state he was in, he managed to speak despite the heavy, numb feeling he felt.

"I miss Japan."

England was slightly shocked, it was so odd to think that America would be friends with the enemy. England patted America's head gently, ruffling his soft blonde hair. "When everything is over you can be friends with Japan again" England said, he doubted his own words, but he tried to deliver them with confidence. America could see through the facade pretty easy. "He's going to hate me after this, or I'm going to hate him. Either way, it's not ending very well... I just want a happy ending too, like all the heroes do." America felt what could only be described as incredibly weak and powerless, it was a feeling like he was lost at sea, unable to see land no matter how hard her searched. Reminiscing on the days when he could feel his feet on land, not being thrown about by the waves. England too, felt helpless. "I think you need some time to yourself, America, call me if you need me, ok?" America nodded slowly. England ruffled his hair again, smiled sadly and left.

The air was fresh, a gentle breeze carried the few remaining cherry blossom petals into oblivion. Waking up early to watch the sunrise across his home was a favourite activity of Japan's. Usually, he would bask in the beauty of what he saw, but the passing of spring was serving as a symbol of the misery he was feeling. He looked at the colourful skies with a melancholic expression, letting the memories of the past days flood his thoughts. America was boisterous, and exhausting to be around. But something about that strange American made Japan feel a strange, warm feeling inside his body. The warmth was gone now, Japan's body just felt cold. The seasons change so quickly, a once, beautiful explosion of colour and life is gone after some time. Nobody has the power to slow time down, time will just continue passing just as the seasons do. If Japan wanted to relive the old times, and have the fun times back, he had to face a harsh winter just for the cherry trees to bloom again for a short while.

Japan was ready to fight for those memories, even if he failed, even if his own blood was shed beneath the cherry trees, he would keep fighting.