AN: Sorry for a little bit of OOC-ness from America TvT

"Hey England, hold on, I'm more than enough here! After all I.."
"Oh please, shut up that 'hero' thing, you bloody wanker."
"Really, America, can't we just cooperate this time? Just for once?"
America didn't know. All the memories he could recall about England were fulfilled with hate. He didn't know if he could cooperate with somebody he had always hated.

"Mister England?"
"Just England, please.. Tell me, America.", the man said to the child, smiling apologetically as he turned.
"..Thank you". Then the kid turned in the bed and seemed to fall asleep instantly, despite the light that poured inside the room from the open door where England was standing.
"Ah..and for what", he mumbled as he got out closing silently the door. "The one who has to thank somebody here is me", he added while walking away, to his own bedroom.
But this was something America never knew about.

"Please, America, can't you just stay home this time? It's an important meeting. And it is only between me and France, it would actually be odd if I took you with me..", England begged the grown-up America with a hand on his shoulder – which was taller than his own.
"Yeah, but I wanna learn how to be a nation! I really wanna be like you when I'll be on my own!", America protested.
England sighed. "Not today, America. But I promise you I'll take you with me at the next important meeting we'll have, okay?"
America looked disappointed, but he tried to pretend he understood. "Okay. Uhm.. Come back soon", he stuttered looking at his feet.
"Sure", England answered as he turned and exited the house.
"Don't worry America, you already are much stronger than you've realized so far.. You've always been.", he added once he'd closed the door behind his shoulders.
But this was something America never knew about.

"Uhm..England?", said America's perplexed voice.
"Yes?", the man turned to face a young teenager America in an elegant black suit.
He perplexedly looked down at the knot of his necktie. "Why do I need to wear this?", he asked grabbing the edge of the black elegant jacket.
"Well, it makes you look so elegant and mature. It really suits you", said England smiling sweetly and smoothing a little fold on America's shoulder, disguising his shy gesture of fondness.
"Uh..okay", said America shrugging. He followed England down the corridor, mumbling with a low disappointed voice, "It actually makes me only look like you."
England felt a little sting in his heart at this sentence, but kept walking and pretended the remark was unheard.
But this was something America never knew about.

"America? Where are you? There is someone you should come and greet", were the first words America heard when England got back.
He hurried down the stairs, yelling back at him, "What is it now?".
"Don't be that rude and don't yell, please. Well, this is your little brother, Canada; have you ever met him before?"
America stared at the purple-shaded blue eyes of the young boy standing next to England. He swallowed hearing him say: "Hi, America", with a low, shy voice.
"Hi, bro", he answered with a quick nervous smile.
"Have you seen him before?", England repeated, a slight tone of impatience in his voice.
"Yeah, quite a long time ago", he said shrugging. Then he turned, and, after a hesitation where he questioned himself about what England's reaction would be, he headed back to his rooms upstairs.
England sighed. He turned to the young nation, on whose little shoulders his hand was still resting: "Don't worry..I bet you don't know him well, but believe me, he isn't as bad as he looked just now. He's such a kind boy, really. You should talk to him tomorrow, maybe; he's probably tired now..", he said to the boy with an apologizing little smile.
Canada nodded blushing. "I will".
But this was something America never knew about.

"Uhm..Mister England.."
It wasn't the right thing to say in the middle of the night after sneaking into England's room in order to make him wake up, but America couldn't think of any better line.
"Mmh", groaned the man under the covers. "America, is it you?"
"Yes..Mister England-"
"Just England", the man said tiredly mostly following an automatism.
"I.. My room is scary", he complained. "There is no wind and no grass moving and no little animals come cuddling with me to make me fall asleep. I can't fall asleep..", he explained looking down at the floor.
"Do you want to sleep with me..?"
"It's just for tonight, and just because it's your first night here, understood?".
America nodded quickly and he climbed onto the bed and snuggled against England's warm chest. After all, it was pretty cold out of the covers. After this, he almost instantly fell asleep.
England sighed and put an arm around his tiny body. Then he wrapped him with the other one as well; and a few minutes later, he sighed again realizing he'd ended up by holding America closely to his own body.
But, since he woke up before America the next morning, this was something America never knew about.

"America. Open the door.", England ordered after knocking a few times at the wooden door of America's private rooms.
"What do you want now?"
"I said open the door", England repeated. He felt rage burn inside his chest, but he tried and keep calm for the moment.
The door was slowly unlocked and America cheekily repeated: "What do you want now?"
"Is this the right behavior you should keep with me – and with your younger brother?", England calmly asked.
"I guess you expect me to say 'no'".
"America, stop struggling. I don't even understand what you're struggling about! What's the problem now? I thought the situation would be quite okay from now on. Soon a new meeting will be headed between the European nations, and you'll come with me as the representative of my colony.."
"Is this all we are to you, England? Really? Just colonies? Puppets you can show around and be proud of when talking to other nations?"
"America, lower your voice."
"All I always asked you was a bit of my former freedom and some love so that I wouldn't feel alone! But all you've ever made me feel was that I've been just a toy you could play with, nothing more that a little doll, because you're not able to make friends with anyone else and you need to show you're not as weak as you actually are! You don't consider me your little brother, you just wanna show me around, you just wanna show us around!".
It wasn't the first time they argued, but it was the first time America believed in what he yelled at him. The first one, ever.
England's hand were shaking slightly as he took a closed fist to his chest and he turned around to get out of the room, so the eventual tears would remain unseen.
"I have always struggled to keep you with me and me alone, America. I have always wanted to have you by my side as my friend, my young brother, my little child. I'm sorry it didn't show.", he said with a voice broken with crying, and then he left America alone.
But this was something America never admitted to know about.

America banged his hands on the wooden table. "You don't even begin to understand! You don't even try to understand me! Please, England, let's deal about this. You know I'm already strong enough to beat you and probably any ally you can make. So please let me go, let me have independence, I don't wanna hurt you."
England closed his eyes taking a deep breath, letting the bitterness out of his lungs. "Did you really think I'd let you go this easily, America?"
America hesitated, England's eyes were still closed, but he could tell as clearly as they were opened and wiping that he was suffering. "I..I really hoped so."
England suffocated a laughter with no sign of hilarity in his throat and smiled bitterly. "You're so lame, America..", was all that he could say as he opened his eyelids.
"I may be lame, but I am totally able to declare the war opened between us.", America icily replied, and he walked out of the room the moment straight after.
"..But yet you're so amazing that, despite all your undeniable flaws, I still want to fight to take you back with me, even if I know it's a suicidal decision."
But this last sentence England said before turning to tell his generals to prepare the army to the nearly coming war, was something America would have never even imagined.

"U-uh.. Mister America?"
"What's with this formality. England's not listening."
Canada blushed and instantly corrected to: "America, then? Monsieur England-"
"Just call him 'England', he's telling me to do so since when I came living with him. And that's quite a long time now", America interrupted him again.
"Well, ..England told me that I should come and talk to you today", he shyly stated.
"Really? And what makes you think that's the right thing to do?", asked America.
"J-Je..Well he is fond of you and he wants me to get on well with you, je crois..".
"Why do you talk half your words in French, kid? That's annoying. And anyway. England is only a selfish conservatory nation", America replied, smirking and staring almost cruelly at is little brother's eyes; "who ain't fond of anyone and just wants his own people to get on well with their own money."
Canada looked down blushing more. Almost apologetically, he whispered: "I'm so sorry. I am half French actually. I'll stop if it bothers you, brother..'.
America laughed slightly and ruffled nervously Canada's dark-blonde hair. "Just be warned he doesn't tie you up to himself too tightly", he mumbled as he turned and left Canada alone in the green, sweet-scented English garden.
Behind a heavy, dark blue curtain and a half opened window, right in front of the lonely child, a stunned England wasn't able to do anything but swallow the tight lump in his throat and helplessly feel the hot tears flow again down his cheeks and wet his shirt's collar of pure bitterness.
But, due to the fact that he was hidden behind the curtain, this was something America never knew about.

England's hand covered his face as he breathed heavily against his own skin. He heard a knock on the door, and even before the general got in and spoke the news from the battlefield, he knew they were bad.
"Mister England", said the general taking off the hat of the uniform when allowed to speak. "Our armies are on their knees, the American forces are literally overwhelming us. We won't survive the night."
"We will survive anyway. The battle will stop for the night.. Tomorrow gather the left armies for the last battlefield; I'll go alone.."
"You cannot..!"
"..leading our soldiers against America. You can leave now.", he coldly ordered. As the general walked out, he got up, already in his red military uniform with a big white cross on the chest; he had no intention to let that war go on another single day. His armies were failing to keep America with him, and he had nothing left but to walk down the battlefield himself.
He knew America, he knew what he wanted; and even though he was still desperately struggling with all his strength to make it not happen, he would give it to him.
And this was, actually, something America knew very well.

"Well Canada, how was your chat with America?", England lied as he saw the young boy entering the library where he was sitting with a cup of tea reading an old poetry book.
Canada looked up at him, blushed as always, and answered: "..Creepy".
England couldn't help but smile. "Creepy?"
"Oui. He doesn't want me to be fond of you I think; but I can be, right? Can I be fond of you Monsieur England?", Canada sweetly asked taking a few steps near England's chair.
"Surely you can, but I'd prefer you to talk proper English as long as you stay here with me", said England with a slight smile as he laid down the book on his lap.
"Y-yes I'm so sorry! It's still a bit difficult for me but I'll try my b-best not to bother you!", Canada hurried saying blushing more, and then he ran out of the library.
England sighed and rested his back against the chair. "Why, America? Why do you refuse anyone's attempt to deal with you? I never knew having a friend would be so heartbreaking."
But this was something America would never want to hear, not even if England would kneel in front of him crying it out loudly.
But, if he only had heard it, he would've agreed.

After that, even little children from elementary school know how the American Independence war had ended.
Even America, in his utter lack of seriousness and unconscious ignorance, knew he won; he won because he was stronger than England. And not quite exactly as a matter of armies.
And England learnt how it felt like to grow fond of a friend and then lose him for his own mistakes, and America learnt that anyone who says he'll be your 'old brother', your 'protector', your 'savior', will only claim your ownership – except himself. Because he wanted to believe he was different and better than England, than France, than Spain; than any other European country that suppressed entire nations imposing them their own uses.
He'd never be afraid; he'd never be weak as England had been.
He'd never, ever allow himself to grow fond of someone, or to have a friend.
He'd never allow himself to become friends with England again.

Because that would lead him to love him again. And loving him again would lead him to always be around him again. And being always around him was just another way to say, to be his colony again.

"Hm", America mumbled thinking. "No, we can't cooperate this time", he said with a smile and turned to deal with the situation he knew he could perfectly handle all on his own.
He felt a sting in his chest while working alone, but he didn't care. He felt alone, he felt rejected, he felt unwanted, just to discover he was the first and only one causing all these feelings to himself.
"England..", he said suddenly stopping; "I didn't deserve that. How could you have loved such a person like me..?".
And he stared at the non-existent green eyes of the English nation in his own head, as he learnt how it was like to feel tears flowing down his cheeks; and he shivered as he learnt how it was like to fear the utter silence around him as his heart crumbled into sharp pieces; and he understood, he understood why he hated England. They both had always loved each other so much their eyes were blinded, and they could not see the feelings the other one was offering day after day, year after year, delusion after delusion.
He understood, but still he didn't want to be his friend, he didn't mind about having friends. He found out something he had always lived for, and there's no way you can be friends with the person you live for.
..It would be just so awkward.
But this is something England will never know.

AN: Uhm, I hope somebedy liked it. ^^; I know it's kinda depressing but I don't feel very confident about writing with another style..

I'm sorry for any mistake, I'm not a native speaker so I still have doubts about how I can say some things.

Leave me a little review if you like, I'd really appreciate it. C: