His Last Smile

Guilty

        It was the end of the meeting that day. It was 3:00 A. M., and Germany was about to send three specific nations to check for England. That special three consisted of France, who is close to England, Canada, because he suggested checking for England, and America, because he demanded it, and Germany thought it was fine. The other nations decided to either go to their hotels or their own countey, and the chosen three were already out of the building when the remaining nations trickled out.

        "So... Are we-" poor Canada was inturrupted again by America saying(yelling), "Let's go dudes!" Canada sighed, kind of regretting the decision to let America to be one of the trio to go to England and see "what's up with the old man", as America says.

        The three nations went out the door, America first, then France, and lastly, Canada. They went into America's car, because the world meeting was in France, and France could get his car anytime.(Oops forgot to mention that. Sorry DX) America was driving, with both Canada and France in the back seats. Together they drove to the airport.

--------------------Timeskip brought to you by Gilbird--------------------

        They were standing in front of England's house. It seemed deserted, which was odd because England almost always had at least one person to take care of the mansion-like house. America was ringing the doorbell for the ninth time, each time with no response from the other side.

        Little did they know, there were fairies all around them, staring at them mournfully.

        America pushed the bell, and he knew it wasn't broken, since he could hear a faint sound of Englan's doorbell tone, the melody in which he was very accustomed to during his... childhood. Faint memories came back, he and England having fun, England getting him out of the tree, eating England's cooking... Come to think of it, England's cooking was not as bad as now back then.

----------------------------------------Flashback----------------------------------------

        "America! I'm home!" the blond man said, excited to meet his brother after such a long time. He ringed the doorbell and waited for the younger blond to open the door, smiling softly. Instead a yelp came from the backyard, making England look around in surpirse.

        England dropped his things on on the front mat, and sprinted towards the back. There, he could see America, sitting on a tree, clinging on to a branch for dear life. He was crying his eyes out, making England hurry to the young boy even faster. He climbed the tree, not caring about himself. Boy, America has climed a lot.

        England reached the boy just as America's hands gave away. England kept a firm grip on his wrist, and pulled America into a hug. He cried into his older brother's chest, and England came down slowly.

        But luck just wasn't on his side. England's feet were still about five meters from the ground when his hand grabbed a sharp branch. He pulled his hand back, trying not to make any noise of pain. But just as his injured hand was about to find another branch, his other hand slipped off the branch, and his green eyes went wide.

        He held on tightly to his brother as they fell, twisting slightly so that his back was fully facing the ground. As his back hit the ground, he bit his lower lip, trying desperately to keep himself from screaming and making America worry.

        He glanced down at the younger blond. He smiled, despite his pain, at his brother's worrying eyes. "I'm fine, America. How about you?" As he spoke, he had to keep himself from wincing in pain, and the oblivious boy smiled widely and wrapped his arms around his older brother.

----------------------------------------end of flashback----------------------------------------

        America sighed, remembering the time when England broke his back because of him. He felt something in his stomach, something that he's felt often since he saw England on the ground, sobbing, in the battlefield.

        He remembered the old timed with the "old man." He remembered the times they walked together in the garden, the times he was sick and eating England's soup because of it, the times he and England played together, 

            The guilt hit him like waves. First of all, the fact that he left England. He was such a great big brother.

            Second, bothering England about the wars, even though he knew it was a tough topic for him.

            Third, for telling him that he was jealous of losing, when he could've just thought a little more and notice that England was touchy about "I'm not your little brother anymore," not "I won the war, you didn't."

            And lastly, of hurting England, on that day, so much, that he whom America had never, ever seen cry, weep for many hours, probably.

               He promised himself to tell England that he was sorry as soon as he meet England.

                England would've liked for his little hero to not know of his end, but as we always say,

               Life is cruel.

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OMG!

I'm so sorry about the slow update D: 

Here's my excuse: (it's true tho!)

I was almost done with the story, and I was on the "guilty for everything" part when my computer decided that it was a very, very good idea to shut down and leave my unsaved, unpublished, work-that-took-me-five-hours-to-write story.

:I I hate my computer sometimes ;__;

Anyways, I hope you "enjoyed" the chapter~

*cue evil laugh* the next chapter will be coming out whenever I feel like writing (I'll try to make it faster than this time). 

*cue dramatic music* prepare your FEELS (maybe)

STAY AWESOME!!! (like Prussia and unlike a certain computer that decided to destroy my work)

@stillnotfictional