**Read it! Don't read these pretty words! READ IT!**

You had an obsession with planes.

You told me so yourself, "Hey, guess what bro! When I grow up, I'm gonna fly!"

"Good luck with that." I told you, hugging my bear closer to my body.

You laughed, "You're just jealous because I would beat you in a flying race!"

I shook my head and walked away. The only times you ever talked to me where when you decided that you wanted to boast about being a hero, or flying planes, or something like that. You started the planes ever since the first one was flown on your state of North Carolina's coast, Kitty Hawk?

"Guess what?" North Carolina came in and told you, "I just helped test the first plane."

You jumped up in glee.


You had an obsession with planes.

You had one in your backyard, a few years after WWII, you grinned at me and Australia.

"Mate, ya ain't gonna fly it today, are ya?" he asked.

"Nope! I don't wanna waste money and go buy flying fuel!" you replied.

I sighed, hugging my bear closer to my body.

A few hours later, Australia and I were on a flight back to my home, he was visiting. I told him about you wanting to fly.

"Like that'll ever happen, mate. He's too stupid to even work a bike!"

"Right..." I replied, imagining you flying the plane we were on right now.


You had an obsession with planes.

You laughed as I clung onto you, hearing the jets fly over us to celebrate a NASCAR race opening.

We rooted for Jeff Gordon, and he won. People called us crazy, but we didn't care – he was a racer and racers needed someone to root for them.

We saw the planes again later that week, you pointed up at them and laughed, "I'm gonna fly one of those to your house one day!" you cried.

"Good luck with that." I replied, hugging my bear closer to my body.


You had an obsession with planes.

You made them fly over us as we watched the Fourth of July fireworks. I sat there and watched the colors of red, white, a blue dance in the sky, hearing planes and seeing them fly over us.

I was only there because you did the same thing for July the First, only you made the fireworks red and white. You also decided that I needed my Air force to fly over and make noises – just like you did on the Fourth.

"They are so cool!" you yelled at me over the fireworks, "I want to fly one!"

"Good luck with that!" I yelled, hugging my scared bear closer to my body.


You had an obsession with planes.

I heard that you finally got flying lessons and flew today. I'm glad for you. I'm so, so glad.

You called me and yelled that you could fly to my house now, pick me up, and fly us back to New York for a lunch at McDonald's.

Laughing, I said, "Good luck with that." And hugged my bear closer to my body.

You gave my nation a scare whenever you actually did fly over the border.

You landed in my backyard and laughed, saying it was just you. My advisor chewed yours out while we drove to the nearest McDonald's and got you lunch.

I had pancakes and shared them with my bear.


You had an obsession with planes.

When you held my hand and asked me to marry you, I was expecting your Air Force to fly over.

"Why?" I asked you, shocked, "You hardly remember that I exist!"

You gave me your cocky grin, "I do. I'm just so wrapped up in being humiliated by your looks that I must do it to keep myself from kissing you to death." You stood up, pressing your lips to mine for a while before pulling back, "Do you say yes?"

I nodded, tears in my eyes as my bear crawled up my leg and into by hold, I held him close to me as he licked away my tears while you held my hand – I felt you slip the ring onto the correct finger.


Even still, you had an obsession with planes.

Our advisors thought that we were crazy, but they let us get married.

You invited almost everyone to the wedding, even Ivan. As I was walked down the aisle by Papa France, I heard them. Planes flying over while my national anthem played. Followed by more planes and your anthem after Arthur walked you down the aisle.

We said our "I do"s and you had the planes fly over again.

My bear, trying to get the pillow of which he carried the rings on, tried to make me pay attention to him. I picked him up and held him to my body while you grabbed my arm, pulling me down the aisle while lots of people stood and clapped for us.

I saw Papa France dabbing his eyes, Arthur wrapping an arm around him.


You had an obsession with planes even after that.

I told you to stop flying planes on weekends, or I would divorce you. You would beg at my feet, then we would show our love for each other.

But that weekend you would go out and fly your plane anyway.

I joined you twice, it was fun up until you made me go upside down.

I wanted my bear to hug close to my body.

You laughed, taking me to our house and kissing me, "Sorry." You said, "What do you want me to do for that?"

I would make you cook for the next month, and do the dishes, and half of the laundry.

One week the called for storms all week long.

Even on the weekend.

I told you, "Don't go fly your plane. There's a storm."

"Alright." You sounded like you wanted to anyway.

And you did.

You went and flew your plane in the storm.

That was the first one you ruined, your only first one. You had an ejection seat, and you came home safely. I cried, hugging you close and sobbing in your chest, "I thought you died! I thought you died!"

"Never." You kissed my head, "You and I are gonna be together until we both die."

You still went out and flew around on the weekends. You came home and did your job, loved me, helped me take care of my bear.

You went out flying one day. Someone got into the house.

It was Gilbert, drunk and wanting to conquer me.

I called you; you had set up a system to where I could call you when you were flying.

You came home, beat Gilbert so bad he was bleeding, and took him to Ludwig.


You still had an obsession with planes.

I was watching you fly around our two year old new home, you were doing tricks in the air.

That was when another plane came into sight. It was a German plane.

You had a dogfight with him. You shot his wing off.

But you were stupid and got caught underneath him as he fell. You both landed on the ground in a huge fireball.

I had already called 911.

By the time they arrived, it was too late.


You still had an obsession with planes.

They flew over as I held your flag in my hands, hugging my bear closer to me in my arms.

They laid you in the ground, more planes flew over. They gave the 21 Gun salute, and buried you like you where an army member.

I went home crying, the checks came in month after month. And every time they did, I cried.

Arthur and Francis comforted me. Our brothers did to. Remember Peter? Australia and New Zealand? They came over to my house and helped me out. But then Peter went to live his boyfriend Raivis after your country had a war, and Latvia was free of whatever we went over to fight for.

You always got into fights.

I cried, ten months later on the numbered day you went down I cried. My bear was close to me.

Do you still have an obsession with planes?

Do you want me to learn how to fly planes?

I bet you still have an obsession with planes. That's why I came to where you rested today, I asked for the planes to fly over.

"I miss you." I cried, sobbing and laying on the ground where you rested.

My bear also snuggled against your gravestone. "You loved planes. We should have buried you in one."

I lightly chucked at him and held him closer to my chest.

I woke up.

You where there.

It was all a dream.

You did get in a dogfight though.

But you didn't die.

You were in the hospital for weeks.

Gilbert even worse.

I blinked at you, how did you get in? I had the house tightly locked and everything!

You wake up, smiling at me with that bandage around your head. Giving me that cocky smile and said, "Morning, Mattie."

I cry, pulling you into a tight hug and bawling.

You comforted me, I told you about my dream.

"Do you want me to learn how to fly a plane?"

"Not if you're gonna be scared, Matthew."


Kumajiro is at the end of the bed. He sees you and runs over to cuddle with you before I pull him away and hug him close to my body. You get up, telling me to relax and that you're gonna fix breakfast. Pancakes with maple syrup.

I hug Kumajiro closer to my body and smile, knowing that no matter what, you're always with me. Even if you're the idiot that gets into dogfights. You're my idiot.

You are obsessed with planes...

**I CRIED HALFWAY THROUGH TYPING THIS! OK you might not have, but I did. Hope you enjoyed. Oh, and BTW, I am now Crayzee Canadia. Can you say "Canadians live in Canada"? lots of people that I know say "Canadians live in Canadia." That's my new user name! But remember, I'm Italian :D Flames will be burned with Green Fire and Murdered with a hockey stick.**