Forgive Me ~Hetalia~

Chapter 7

•I don't own Hetalia, if I did I wouldn't be writing this.

A gunshot.
A scream
England dropped the phone and ran out the house, not caring about the blood dripping from his hand or the phone that may or may not be broken. He slammed the door shut, not locking it because there just wasn't enough time to worry about that. He drove to the airport once more, going well over the speed limit. He bypassed security checks after he showed them his gold card, a thing all nations have that can allow them to get on any flight as quickly as the airport can provide one. Luckily he didn't have to wait long as a flight to America was leaving in 10 minutes, he got to the flight gate and showed the card again, they ushered him onto the plane and he sat, staring out of a window and wondering about America, his little brother, and what he had done. He fell asleep not long after the plane took off, his head pressed against the window, jumping up slightly with every movement the aircraft made. He awoke from his slumber as the plane was landing. He got in a taxi and gave the driver Americas address, telling him it was of utmost importance and that be should skip any red light they came across. The driver was reluctant to do so until England's pirate personality made an appearance. The driver didn't understand what England had said but he didn't want to find out, so he drove. And fast.

America laid there, in his livingroom, surrounded by a small pool of blood. His blood. Sad thoughts popped into his head, but he didn't cry. He couldn't cry. All his tears had been shed a long time ago and he didn't think anymore could come. His leg hurt like a bitch. He must've been drunk to shoot his leg, his thigh to be exact, the right one. He didn't know what he was thinking at the time. He was angry and depressed and lonely, that he knew. He had long since sobered up and he couldn't exactly remember why he had picked up the gun in the first place. To end his life? Maybe, he didn't see a point in living his life if England hated him, there was so much he had to say to him. He hadn't even told England his secret. He needed to tell him, one way or another. It would probably repulse him, that's why he didn't tell him when he was a colony. He was surprised England didn't discover the secret when America was a colony. It was easy to find, if you looked. Although he supposed England didn't make a habit of looking there. But he would need to tell him. It didn't really effect England in the slightest but America thought he should know, just in case. He heard the door open and footsteps running towards him. He tried to see who it was but his vision was blurred, he heard a familiar voice and blacked out.

He woke up in a room of white. He was still a bit sleepy and his leg stung a bit, but besides that he felt better. Until he saw England sitting in a chair, looking at him. He turned his head away, hurt. Why did he come here? America was still angry at him and he didn't want him here, he would say something he'd end up regretting. England put his hand on the Americans arm.
"Please-" he started but he was cut off.
"You hurt me for the last time, I've changed. I'm not the same America" America said, his voice full of hate and hurt.
"But...my little brother?" He whispered, unsure.
"Gone too, because of the pain and suffering you cause me" America replied, his voice lowering slightly.
"Please America. I only wanted what was best for you" he started crying, the tears running down his face slowly.
"What's best for me? You hurt me so much I stopped feeling anything! Even when I tell you what's wrong you still keep doing it" he looked him straight in the eye, tears flowing down his tanned face.
"You wouldn't talk to me for months. I didn't want to talk to anyone but you...when I saw you at the meeting I couldn't help but hug you because I missed you so damn much! I let go because I thought you would've moved on and I thought you were still angry with me...but before I realised you hugged back I stopped" his voice was quiet, like he didn't want me to hear what he was saying.
"Then why did you run. When I saw you run I thought you feared me because I returned the hug. It broke me...the one person I care about most in the whole world running from me like I was a monster. All these months I've been trying to repair my heart and you shattered it again with one single movement. There is no fixing it again" America said, his voice full of sudden venom "teasing, snickers, mocking me...so many people hate me because I tried"
"Let me fix you...your my little brother" England replied, trying not to sob loudly.
"You can't fix me...just go" Just then a nurse came in to tell America he could leave and go home, he was pretty happy about that, he hated hospitals, they were a reminder of all the wars he had been in. England sighed and left muttering on his way out.
"G7 sounds much better...they don't need a pathetic ex-empire.." America heard him and sighed inwardly. England just gave him a great idea. Not an hour later he left that damned place, an idea in his head, a good idea.
"No England. The G6 sounds much, much better".

This was created by me and mlphetalialuv so I hoped you've enjoyed it so far! ^_^