This is actually a very special story and it's really personal. To me this is heartbreaking in ways you, reader, cannot imagine. Please don't judge this story. Feel free to give constructive criticism on the others but, this one, I'm afraid is off limits. That's all I will say except I don't own Hetalia and please enjoy!
England sat at the World Meeting, a perfect smile plastered on to his face. That smile had been used countless times. It would never stop appearing. That fake smile, that no one knew was a fake smile. That was all he could do. Beside him sat him. The one he loved. Normally that would be great but... No. Not here. Save your emotions for when you are back in a private place where no one could see. He didn't feel like crying his heart out in front of everyone. England looked up and noticed America. The country smiled at him and went back to giving his presentation.
After that grin, England didn't have it in him to keep smiling. The beautiful fake smiled dropped from his face. No one noticed. They only seemed to notice at most inopportune times. Fortunately not this one. America finished presenting and Germany dismissed all the countries, bored out of their minds. England waited until the crowd cleared. Then he stood from his seat and shuffled to the door.
Unfortunately, America had waited for England at the door. "Hey dude!" said America, with a signature grin. The personification of the U.K. just looked at his feet and walked faster, not looking at America. The other nation was dumbfounded. Why had his best friend looked so miserable?
As Britain shut his hotel room door, sobs came from his throat. Emotions were fresh in his mind, and his heart. He collapsed on his bed, as tears began to pour out of his eyes. Being around him was so bittersweet. He admitted to an empty room, "I love him." The tears flowing. Why did he have to fall in love with his best friend? It wasn't America's fault. It never would be.
He loved America's dazzling blue eyes, his little hair curl. Everything about America made him happy. Bittersweet happy. America could never love him back. He has lost Alfred once. If he admitted his feelings, he would lose him again. The tears stained the pillows. If tears could leave scars, England's face would be destroyed. Alfred was his nicotine. It was a sin, though. America was the same gender. It wasn't right. He didn't want to sin.
And so the U.K. sat on his bed, heart rebreaking. It always healed when he was with him. It broke into pieces without him. Movies and stories made falling in love with your best friend a fairy tale. But, It wasn't. And not every story has a happy ending.