ALRIGHT. Before we start, I'm giving you a warning: this is extremely terrible and depressing to any USUK shippers.

I wanted to do something canon, kinda. Plus I saw 'The Patriot' the other day and was all "Hm, AMERICAN REVOLUTION?"

Yeah, wut.

Anyway, this came out somehow. It seriously took me forever to write because I have a short attention span and get sidetracked easily. SO.

Slight USUK, depression- etc, etc. Blah blah. Yes.

The PoV changes might get a bit confusion, but you'll get the hang of it.

Enjoy, I guess. :D




Hold my Hand, Like you Did so Long Ago...

He used to be so small, I could carry him around with no problem whatsoever! He always loved the attention, too. He loved to play, to laugh, to have fun. I was so glad that I had gotten to him before France. I still am glad, actually…

I raised him, nurtured him, protected him. He was like my son, I was like his father. It was perfect. Happy, fun, joy.

Nothing like it is today.

It started in the early eighteenth century. I had noticed, of course- who wouldn't? He had grown up so fast, still immature, but steadily becoming more powerful.

I always knew it would happen, deep down. He had always been extremely strong, I had tried to keep it in check, to put him under my wing and hopefully become his ally one day rather than his mentor. Selfish, I know, but I was as naive as he was back then.

The real conflict started when that wine bastard pulled his forces out of my country, I was relieved, sure, but another problem had presented itself.

He was starting to get defiant.

At first I assumed it was normal for a teenager, and it would be, if he was a human instead of a nation. For a nation, it meant something that made my heart smash to pieces when I came to the realization.

His residents were getting burly, he along with them, and this could only mean one thing to me, though looking back I may have been jumping to conclusions- at the time I only thought-


He wanted to secede from me.

The image of the small boy that I had raised from childhood shattered in front of my eyes.

Everything that I had anticipated was coming true. His strength, his want for power, his need for change…

No matter what I did now, nothing would stop it.

And it tore me up more than I ever thought possible.

I hadn't really noticed until he pointed it out to me. I only thought 'when did I get so tall? It wasn't like this yesterday!'

My nation was becoming bigger, stronger, and I felt myself growing angry at him more often than I should. I mean- he was the one who cared for me through all those years, who hugged me and kissed me and told me all those wonderful stories. He was the best parent I could have asked for.

What had changed?

Besides my height, it didn't feel like I had changed. It felt like… he had changed. He was always so secretive around me, so sad- he thought I hadn't noticed, but he's so easy to read.

He was frightened of me leaving him, I knew, and yet I couldn't help being frustrated with him more and more. He was repressing me, restricting me from becoming a better nation, a stronger nation. It was annoying and over-protective. It was time for me to face the world on my own, without him guiding me by the hand.

At the time, I hadn't even considered his feelings.

He was gone more often and it almost seemed like he was avoiding me, but I didn't really mind, my country needed me. We were still new, still fresh, still vulnerable. So I let him be.

Looking back, that was the worst choice I could have made.

It hurt so much.

My attempts at normalcy with him were all but thwarted, it seemed he couldn't care less about me anymore. I was losing my control over him, and it was driving me insane- something had to be done to quell his rebellious stage, and fast.

So, I imposed taxes on him, to demonstrate my power.

It was the worst decision of my life.

The taxes were so sudden, and he expected me to pay them when I was my own nation? When I knew I had the ability to surpass even him, one of the most powerful countries at that time?!

There was no way. I cared for him, I respected him. But this…

It was just too much.

My country needed me- I would leave him, personal feelings aside.

The people decide, not me.

And they decided that I must part ways with the one who raised me to be who I was, the one who cared for me more than any other, the one who would protect me from attacks in my vulnerable stage, the one who was heavily taxing my people, who was oppressing me, keeping me from what I could and should be…

I couldn't have agreed more.

'No taxation without representation,' he said, voice lost among the thousands of residents in his nation.

'Why can't they pay? It's not that much… it's only fair that he pays me, I raised him, didn't I?'

Those were my thoughts.

I was as naive as he was.

Taxing sugar? Were they joking? And we were expected to house British soldiers at random, no protest?

Like Hell. I was not an obedient child anymore. And it was about time he learned it.

The boycott.

Boycotting my goods, the goods I graciously provided when he was still so young.

'All things come with a price. He needs to learn it. Did I not teach him well enough?'

It wasn't a problem of how well I taught him, now that I think about it…

It was the way I taught him.

Intolerable acts, that's what they were.

The Townshend Act was the last straw. We couldn't boycott paper, glass, tea! It was too much, he should've known that. What happened to the caring elder brother he had once been?

No more, I thought. The Boston Massacre was all his fault. The Boston Tea Party he had brought onto himself. This is probably when I started hating tea, too. Probably why I still hate it today.

In any case…

Tea wasn't the only thing I had developed a growing hatred for.

Instinct. Reaction on instinct. I never expected it to get this bad, never expected him to be so defiant, so rebellious.

It was all spiraling downward increasingly fast, I had never imagined things could get this bad between us. But I was angry, very angry with him. Why couldn't he just hear me out? Why didn't he just listen and follow my orders?

It wasn't until much, much later that I felt the weight of guilt hit me like a ton of bricks.

I had been wrong. I realized too late.

Spain joined the fight by declaring war on him in 1779. I was so grateful- but it was to be expected of him. Spain was bullied by him after all, back when he was a pirate.

Pff, I can't even imagine that.

France helped as well. Gave me money.. supplies… Spain, too. Secretly.

I was so excited. Man, I couldn't have been any more clueless, could I?

How could I have been excited to fight him? What had happened to us?

How did it get so hostile?

Spain hated me. Still does.

France hated me. Hides it now.

The 'American Revolution,' huh?

I saw it coming. I knew it was going to happen.

Why then?

Why did it hurt so much?

The shot heard around the world, what a glorious day!

I was springing to action, caught up in the heat of battle- increasingly consumed by the savage thoughts of war and hatred of British from my people.

I assume this is why I attacked my own brother.

Or that's what I intend to blame it on.

He was so young. So stupid.

What had I been doing, all that time? He had learned nothing, I had taught him nothing.

And now we were both caught up in the heat of battle, he was like a child playing soldier.

Of course, I hadn't known how serious he was.

They were losing, and losing fast. With the help of France and Spain, I was an unstoppable force. I was going to win, and I had a feeling he knew it, too.

The battle was coming to a close, adrenaline wearing off, and until I finally faced the lone figure of the man I had once considered a brother- I had not understood how much damage I had done.

Fighting him. I fought him.

'And I won, too…'

Was I really so selfish?

It was a rainy day.

Fitting, really.

I had tried with all my might to get him back, but it was no use. I knew, of course, that I was destined to lose. I was also aware at how much of a failure I was as a parent. Such things didn't occur in the human world, a son proclaiming war on the father? Preposterous!

Really, I didn't want to face him. But I wanted to see him one more time. Oddly enough, I was okay with dying, as long as it was by his hand.

Yet as his troops marched towards me, my army all but decimated at his hands, a stoic look on his face as he led them- I couldn't help but feel a raging anger boil within me.

All this time during the war, I had been suffering with indecision, worry, confusion- yet he was here, acting like that time when I held him close never happened, acting like we had never been close, acting as if he didn't care about me.

It was about that time that the broken pieces of my heart shattered into tiny, unrecognizable molecules.

Quite frankly, keeping up a poker face is difficult, especially when you're just aching to cry upon seeing the face of your former brotherly figure.

Yet, I knew I wouldn't cry- because I was so close. So close to that freedom that I had been fighting for in these past few years, it was within my grasp- and whatever the consequence, I was going to reach out and grab the opportunity for independence.

However, when we closed in on him, when I saw the rage on his face- all of my uncertainty washed away in an instant.

My people… my country…

They should mean way more to me than this guy….


Before I could even process, he was pointing a musket at me. Straight at me- like he wasn't even afraid to shoot.

I could die, right then and there. He could kill me. This little boy I had raised...

Adrenaline pumped through my veins like a drug, but I was numbed to the core at the sight- and I could do nothing but stare wordlessly back as those words tumbled from his lips over the pouring rain.

"I want freedom after all,

I'm not a little kid anymore, nor your brother.

I'm… seceding from you!"

He may not know… he may not ever know…

But those words cut deeper than any musket he could have sliced me with- and damn if it didn't hurt.

There was a little hope, a sliver of light at the never-ending tunnel of gloom.

'I need to get him back, right now. I need to do something… lest I lose him forever…'

The rain was pouring harder than ever, the blood pumping loudly in my ears, and in the heat of the moment- I charged at him, yelling an incoherent phrase that I can't even remember.

It shocked me when he ran toward me, musket raised in attack- I hardly had time to even react.

I remember the words he uttered before our weapons made contact, though, almost quieter than the storm swirling around us.

"I won't allow--!"

It makes sense now, why he was so angry- but the only thing I could think as my musket flew through the air was, 'is this the end for my country already?'

And yet he… He…

What had I been reduced to? I didn't even recall what I had just done.

When I opened my eyes- there he was, looking shocked as the blade of my weapon loomed threateningly close to his person.

I myself was surprised- before me I no longer saw the rebellious teenager, no, but the figure of a little boy from long ago, reaching his small hands up and smiling… calling my name over and over as we laughed together.

The scene from the past dissipated into the depressing reality of today- the rain hit me cold and hard, numbing me even further, until I couldn't even feel my own heartbeat.

The person in front of me was no longer young, innocent, vulnerable…

He was a man of power, will, and above all- strength.

And it had taken me this long to figure it out.

My weapon had lowered, and all it took was for me to look at the surprise in his face for the numbness to disappear.

"As if I could fire… idiot…"

An overwhelming sense of guilt struck me- and aching deep into the very core of my being, was inevitable heartbreak. I missed the numbness already.

By this time, my legs had given out from beneath me, and I was left sitting on the muddy battlefield, cursing my foolishness and trying to hide the traitorous tears slipping down my cheeks.

Of course, it was no use, I had suppressed the urge to sob for so long, that right then, it was impossible to stop.

Not even when he called my name….

Just like he used to…

Seeing him crying there before me- something inside me just wrenched unpleasantly at the sight, urging me to touch him, comfort him.

That's impossible, though, right? I had just beat him in a war, it was not ideal to show your enemies pity immediately after.

But this was him I was talking about, the kind man who held out his hand when no one else would, never taking advantage of me… Brimming with confidence and happiness…

Yet here he was, sobbing like his life depended on it, shoulders shaking with the force as his entire being trembled with sorrow.

Here I was, watching it, looking down on him like he had done to me so long ago, only he had held out his hand in welcome- beckoning me with a smile and soothing words…

I could not do the same.

"He was… so big back then…"

Wasn't he?

But now he seemed so small… so lonely… so pitiful….

Who thought war could hurt this much?

This was absolutely disgusting of me, showing my weak side to the enemy, but I couldn't stop, persist as I may.

I couldn't even bring myself to look at him, it would just hurt more. So I kept my disgraced eyes downward, on the ground where I had lost that which I treasured so dearly.

My boots sloshed loudly through the gathering mud, I focused on that sound instead of the sobs behind me. It did little good, however, because no matter how far I got, I could hear him crying out his disappointment and sadness to the world.

It still echoes in my memory today.

However, I don't regret what I did.

I might regret what I said to him.

I might regret looking at him in his moment of heartbreak.

I might regret turning my back to him.

I might regret not offering a hand where he had offered his so many times before.

But I don't regret gaining my independence.

Not one bit.

It was long after he left that I got up myself.

And it was a while after that when I finally ceased sobbing.

One thing, though, I will always regret… no matter how many times I try to forget it…

I regret being the person that broke the strong United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland's heart.

I'm still trying to recover from the heartbreak today.

I'll get back to normal someday, I know I will. No matter what, he and I will one day become close again- in the way that I want.

Maybe not in the way we were before, but…

'And I promise someday to repair it by any means necessary.'

I swore this to myself... on the brightest yet darkest day I can remember...

He seems to have this ridiculous notion that consulting me on a daily basis will fill the void that he left in my heart over two centuries ago- he's just stupid like that.

No matter how much I deny it, though, it seems as if the leech has permanently latched himself onto some ungodly small unbroken piece of my heart- and he doesn't plan on letting go any time soon.

Though it pains me to say... He has… made a difference, I guess. I love just being near him now, where I can watch over him… see his progress… protect him still, but pretend I don't care…

And with the slow rebuilding of my scattered heart comes this new, unexplored feeling for him- one which I had felt before, but on a different level.

Or maybe it had been there all along… I have no idea…

The only thing I do know for a fact is-

Yes, I do have feelings for the United States of America, and they aren't entirely unwelcome.

Admitting it out loud is a bit embarrassing… but I feel I must say…

I want to repair what I broke- it's as simple as that. It is my obligation to fulfill the promise that I made to myself long ago.

What is this feeling, though? It feels like I'm not doing this out of obligation… but instead…

Oh no…

I may be in love with Alfred.

Despite everything that has happened between us.


Am I in love with ARTHUR?!

Aha... haha... No, of course not.

I just... can't bear to see that hurt look on his face... Not again...

Which means I will do everything within my range of power to keep history from repeating itself.

And I will protect Arthur with all my power- to return his favor.

Who knows? Maybe our relationship could bloom- just like in the beginning!

Ahh, but I just said history can't repeat itself, didn't I?


OH! The hero has come up with the perfect solution!


Would you LOOK at that time! If I keep talking, I'll be late for the Allies meeting! Thanks for listening to me, though. I was actually kind of surprised when you asked me tell you... but it feels good to get off my chest- thank you very much!

The hero is OFF!

'England rushed off in the same fashion, claiming in a high-pitched voice that he had somewhere to be- it can be officially reported that his face was blood-red and that he was distinctly flustered.'

The redhead finished reading her notes with a fond chuckle. She was on her laptop, and cracking her fingers, she prepared to type the biggest piece of boy on boy gossip she had ever received.

She hoped against hope that the two would read her article and FINALLY realize their feelings for each other and get together- though she highly doubted it, all she could do was pray to the Yaoi Gods!

The girl thought for a few minutes, before ghosting her fingers over the home keys and staring at the nearly blank Word document with determination.

Their story was beautiful... Yet sad.... And though she hoped to get the whole 'more than a friendship' thing across, her main goal was to write this into an interesting and explanatory essay that detailed the complex relationship of the two men. She really had never known about all this drama, and she wanted to do their unique companionship justice with her piece.

And so, the author set her fingers down and commenced her work on her groundbreaking piece.

A week later, two red-faced nations ordered a world-wide search for a certain orange-haired fanfiction writer.



Yes that author is me. At first I was gonna have it be Hungary, but I thought it was a far stretch- I dunno. PLUS I'M TEN TIMES MORE FANGIRLY THAN HUNGARY ALSDKJF.

Holy SHIT this took a long time to type up. I know I probably over-exaggerated feelings at one point, but once I started on that confrontation when the war ended (as displayed by the anime) I just couldn't stop! IT'S BECAUSE I'M ULTRA SUPER OBSESSED WITH THIS PAIRING AND THE DRAMA BETWEEN THEM GAHH.


Sorry I had to get that out.


I edited this many, many times. And I'm still unsure as to whether or not this subject is cliché or not, surprisingly enough, I don't read that much Hetalia fanfiction. One day though, ONE DAYY.

Also, sorry for the tidbit of USUK I added at the end, but seeing as I AM an avid fangirl of that pairing- I just had to do it!

Oh and excuse me if my writing is all over the place in this fic- because I didn't type it all up in one go, it's probably been sitting doing nothing for about two weeks now, lulz.

I tried not to rush it too much, but I probably did. And I tried to take on a more lighthearted approach at the end, considering the way they act towards one another now. I may have gotten just a TEENSY WEENSY BIT carried away, though. …SORRY.


YEAH WELL. This was inspired by the song: Zombie my Miser, so you can blame Naomi.

It really is a good song though, check it out if you get the chance. c: