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13 Colonies (America) has a great connection with his father, England. But when a sweet child becomes a rebellious teen who feels no one listens to him or understands what he's going...
England entered the kitchen and only a maid was there. "Leave me." He said to the maid and she obeyed. England stared at the lonely kitchen it seemed grayer than in the morning, and the clouds outside made the room dark. England only sighs at the scene not bothering to turn the light on. The pain of America and his fight was still fresh. England tried to put away his thoughts and walked over to the drawer where they had tea bags and grabbed a teacup. England prepared the drink with a soft gray in his flag due to his emotions. When his tea was done he took a sip and France came in and saw that he was drinking tea.
"Another fight with America?" France said leaning on the door and sadness was heard in her tone. England put his teacup down and stayed quiet.
"You two need to talk it over," France said pouring some wine for herself. "You can't keep fighting every day."
England stared at his cup the soft steam told him it was still warm or the room was cold, the memory of their previous fights was clear in his head. Silence filled the room, France wanted to say something but didn't want to pressure her husband into talking. Gray clouds outside were becoming darker signaling that it was going to rain and the wind breezed outside moving the trees back and forth. France took a sip of her wine, then placed it down and sigh.
"I just don't see what I'm doing wrong!" England blurted out. "I teach him everything and yet he still doesn't listen!" England said standing up and started walking side to side. "Maybe I need to be more direct to him."
"England. Mon chéri," *Honey* she said in French. "You yelling at him doesn't make him listen," France said standing up and walking to him to adjust his collar of his shirt.
"But he just doesn't listen and just acts in his own will." England still not understanding.
"England," France smiled and held his hand with one hand and the other touched his shoulder. "Honey when will you see, he's not you." She paused. "He's a teenager."
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America lay in his room with his hands in the back of his head. The clouds were going away and a warm gold light shone in his large lonely room.
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He hadn't been there too long, he thought about his fight with his father. He never denied that he didn't love me. the same thought kept repeating
He never denied that he didn't love me.
He never denied that he didn't love me.
He never denied that he didn't love me.
He never denied that he didn't love me.
America felt a hot tear go down his cheek. America reached over to his nightstand and grabbed his wish notebook which still had his three wishes of the day on one of the pages. America grabbed a pen out of his coat pocket and scribbled out the first one.
