Small authors note: When the 'Moon' is referenced as itself, the 'm' is capitalized, when 'moon' is used out of this context, it is lower cased. There is a reason why I mentioned this and I hope you all catch on why when you see it :

When writing this I listened to copious amounts of the soundtrack from the movie "Stardust" and Nat King Cole's version of "Fly Me to the Moon."

Angliya is Russian for England.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

When he was small, young and felt alone - both before and after England - Alfred would wait in earnest for the night. Night was different than when he wasn't huddled away under a roof in the room England made for him. Outside, freckled across the darkened sky, where the stars.

Starlight kept the darkness from being scary, and as a kid, Alfred was easily frightened - though now he would never admit to it.

He would be still amongst his fields of wheat and grass and simply gaze up in silence. They were so small, he had thought - just like him. But they weren't alone because they were so close to each other, shining brightly. America often imagined the stars would tell each other bed time stories, because it was night time, which was meant for sleeping.

He always found it easier to sleep after a story. Unfortunately England was always away and too busy to give him a story every night.

There with the stars was the Moon; Alfred especially liked the Moon. It just looked so strong, and he liked to think he saw it smiling down at him. The Moon must never be lonely, he thought, because it is always surrounded by shining stars.

He awfully wished he could be friends with the Moon.


"Stars give wishes?" Alfred asked in earnest to his caretaker; his eyes shined with bright blue excitement and he was puffed up with such giddy inquiry Arthur had to grin at the lad.

"Yes; if you see one falling from the sky and make a wish it will come true," Arthur answered, ruffling the boys' hair fondly. Though Alfred was bursting at the seams at this new found knowledge of the stars, he bit his lip in worry. "How come, how come the stars are falling?"

As much as America loved the prospect of wishes, falling did not sound like a very pleasant thing to go through!

Arthur fumbled for words at the unexpected question. "Ah,, of course the stars need to fall, so they can hear your wish!"

"Oh. They can't hear me now?" The boy felt himself deflate a little. He would whisper all his little secrets and tell the stars about his day, hoping they were listening to him.

"No my boy, the stars are too far away."


When he first learned what the stars really were, he was both saddened and fascinated all at once. He was older, and knew better than to believe that the stars could act any human then he or grant wishes. Stars were only gasses - hydrogen, helium building with multitudes of other elements - burning brightly. They illuminated and shown beautifully because they were dying; a slow, beautiful, progressive death.

This little melancholy he felt never stopped him from dreaming. It only spurred him on to imagine more. He wanted to know it all, because he had only scrapped the surface. He wanted to see it all, know all that he can- yet at the same time to never know at all simply because that was the thrill of it.

Solving one riddle only opened the door for pages more. America would still have reason to fill the "what if's" and other unanswered questions in his dreams.

The Moon was always present, no matter how he dreamt.


The first time he tried to find a shooting star, he had fallen asleep outside. He woke up to a panicking England looking for him, shuffling through the tall grass.

America pouted the entire day.

Many nights later, when England had sailed away with his ships, Alfred saw his first shooting star. It flew across the sky followed by a tail of light with such speed that he feared if he didn't run after it, his wish might not be heard.

America ran with all the might his little body could after the star, eyes never leaving the sky. "Hey!" He called.

"Hey can you hear me! Please do, I have a wish!"

He stumbled when he found himself in the trees, his lip quivered as his heart dropped when he realized he lost sight of the star. With one last hope Alfred mustered up all the air his lungs would allow and shouted the loudest he has ever shouted.

"I wish the Moon was my friend!"

His only reply was the echo of his wish through the forest. Surely the star had to have heard him.



There had come a point where America had the realization that he had fallen in love with the Moon. In an odd rush of mixed up feelings, he wasn't quite sure if he loved it for the right reasons.

He blamed endless dreams of stars swimming in oceans of nebulas glowing with the color of stardust. Myriads of hues illuminated his sleeping imagination, where the Moon's smile was lavender and it was neither light nor dark.

When he awoke, Alfred was always seized with the dull ache of loneliness.


England had returned once again, only to find a sulking and saddened colony. Worried for his boy - who always had enough energy to wear him thin and greet him excitedly - Arthur did all he could to try and cheer him up.

He didn't mean to be this downhearted; America really did try to not let his moment with the star get to him. All that night he searched for the star- because if it fell, surely it had landed close by! Unfortunately he had not found a glowing star nor had he been any closer to becoming friends with the Moon. Maybe, he thought glumly, he had wished wrong.

There was a rapt knock at the door and England let out a long sigh as he went to answer it. Alfred followed, curiosity blanketing over his gloom. With only the exception of Arthur, he has never had any visitors before.

Opening the door, England frowned at the visitor. "What are you doing here?"

Alfred peeked from behind his caretaker's legs and found himself having to look up, up, up, and up. This new person was so tall!

"Now, now Angliya I came all this way to visit you, don't be so rude!" He talked in a thick accent America had never heard before. Braving to come out from his hiding place he could only blink owlishly when his movements directed the visitor's attention down to him.

All the excitement that had left Alfred the past few days came rushing back when the visitor smiled down at him.


July 20, 1969 was when Alfred first truly began to understand the Moon. It was breathtaking; the mere fact that he had done what he so wished all these years put him on cloud nine. He had the Moon, walked upon it as he had dreamed, yet not.

The real thing was much more different then the dream. He felt the dreamlike weightlessness but was fully conscious. It was amazing in every possible way.

Yet it wasn't the moon he wanted.

America had come to know his moon all too well. In his naiveté it was nice to believe that the Moon was never lonely being amongst millions of stars for company. Though, the moon he had come to know was quite the opposite.

His moon felt too different coexisting with the stars and always felt lonely. Try as the moon might, it was difficult to make friends. The moon felt outshined by the stars, which were always so bright and full of energy; whereas the moon felt cold and isolated.

The moon Alfred fell in love with has pushed him away; though he would be the last to admit aloud that he had also pushed the moon back. But he never stopped dreaming.


England was honestly flabbergasted when the little colony had taken to Russia so easily. The lad had taken the much larger nation's thumb - which was all America's little hand could hold - and dragged the tall fellow into the house. More so, America seemed back to his normal little self, chatting away about everything yet nothing.

"It took you a long time getting here didn't it?" Alfred had led the Russian to the dining area and made an attempt to pull the seat out for his guest. As much as little America had the strength to lift a buffalo, the chair was still bigger than he was- so it only resulted in the colony lifting up the seat to take a step back to set it down again.

Amused, Ivan sat and answered. "Da, my home is very far away from yours." Alfred climbed into his own chair, stacked with two rather thick books of England's, and looked at the other tilting his head.

"What's that?" He asked, intrigued.

"What is what little one?"


"It means 'yes'."

Alfred's eyes went wide and sparked with childish wonder. "You have your own special language?" Whatever reason Russia had for his impromptu visit was drowned out by the excitement the colony exuded, and for that England was somewhat relieved. Mentioning that he was going to make some tea, he went to the kitchen which was still within earshot of the two.

"Yes, yes it is what is spoken where I am from." Ivan could only chuckle and humor the little colony. Really, the boy's cheer was infectious.

America stood on his books, exclaiming loudly. "England! My friend has his own special language!"

Arthur almost dropped his kettle.


When night came and the Moon peeked out through the trees America was so confused he didn't know what to think!

First he ran from his bedroom window, down the stairs to the outside - much to the frustration of his caretaker, who was engaged in a long conversation with their guest. "Alfred its bed time not run about the house time!"

Alfred didn't listen and stared up at the Moon, mouth agape. He ran back inside to the parlor staring shortly at Ivan, who only smiled. Running back outside to look upwards, England felt inclined to follow, along with the Russian out of curiosity of what got the child so riled up.

Looking from the night sky and back to Ivan, Alfred pointed at the Moon. "How can you be here and there at the same time?"

Russia's gaze followed where the boy was indicating. Arthur just looked confused while Ivan seemed to gain some understanding of what the colony was going on about.

Kneeling to as much as Alfred level as he could, Ivan set his hand on the boys head after a small pat. "Little one," he began, "did you believe me to be the Moon?"

Alfred felt his ears turn red and gave a shy, embarrassed nod and focused looking down at his feet. "M'sorry."

"Why did you think I was the Moon?"

"Wanted to be th'moon's friend." Alfred mumbled and lightly kicked the ground. He felt so silly and foolish that he had mistaken the Moon for someone else; he felt like a horrible friend! And he also felt sadness, because in the end, the Moon really wasn't his friend. His wish hadn't come true.

Arthur let out a soft sight. "Alfred, love, I don't think the Moon can come down here."


Ruffling the boy's hair, Ivan brought his hand down and gave a hum. "I'm sorry I'm not your 'moon-friend' Alfred but," He paused.

Curious why the Russian stopped mid sentence, Alfred finally looked up and met with Ivan's smiling face. "I would like it very much if you still thought me as a friend."

America's face light up happily, "Yes!" he exclaimed.


Not having been able to get where he was that day, on the Moon, without dreaming, America believed that he could accomplish anything. He would work hard to continue making any dream he wanted come true. Maybe he had too much pride and overzealous confidence; others called it arrogance, thinking that he was able to achieve everything he wanted.

But hey, he was on the Moon. So now he would dream that one day, he would be able to picnic on it with Ivan Braginski.

As he looked into the space around him, floating slightly due the Moon's lax gravity, Alfred wondered if he'll see a falling star. A little wishing never hurt anyone.


When he was small, young, and felt alone even with the company of his sisters, Ivan would wait in earnest for the night. Huddled in the cold night under blankets and scarves his sister made him was different then the day. At night, the stars would dance across the dark sky.

Starlight looked so warm and inviting, so unlike the biting and bitter cold. Ivan never did like the cold.

He would be still surrounded by his oceans of snow, gazing up in young contemplation. There are so many, he thought. They had to be happy, because they had each other for company; and with there being so many of them shining bright, they must never feel cold. He liked to think the stars were always chatting and laughing, because that is what friends do, they talk and keep each other happy.

The cold always made everything so quiet. Ivan never did like the quiet either.

He awfully wished he could be friends with a star.