The following story is a potrayal of the American Revolution, written Hetalia-style. THIS IS NOT YAOI, it's just father to son love, okay? Well, I suppose you could say it's yaoi if you wanted, but whatever... Thanks for reading :D
“What are you doing, America?! Stop this right now! Do you know how much you’re hurting everybody around you-“
Feeling a searing pain course through his body, England cringed and collapsed to his knees, clutching the wound on his shoulder, crimson liquid spilling from the crevices of his fingers. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to stare at his attacker. The rain drizzled over them lightly, and stung the gash on England’s shoulder with each raindrop. America stood towering over him, sword in one hand, pointing it directly at England’s heart.
“You know better than ANYBODY that I can’t do that, England! I want my independence! I’ve been spoiled for way too long now, and I need to see the world! It’s different now! I’ve grown, and… y-you… You aren’t my ‘father’ anymore, so just give it up!”
Immediately after hearing that last sentence, something broke in England’s heart. You aren’t my father anymore, so just give it up! Barely holding back tears, he grabbed his discarded gun and swung it at America, causing the younger nation to jump back and give England an opportunity to stand up. Swallowing hard, he removed his hand from the wound and prepared to get in a fist fight. His shoulder was screaming in objection to this last movement, but England ignored it completely. He couldn’t hold back the tears any longer and let them trickle down his ashen face, leaving a shining wet path through the mud and dirt.
“Daddy, what’s for dinner?”
“Oh, today I’ve bought something special!”
“What?! Tell me tell me tell me!”
“You’ll see in a second…”
Rummaging through a grocery bag, England pulled out a few small Styrofoam containers and handed them to America. America immediately began chewing on the Styrofoam and swallowed, causing him to go in a fit of choking. England’s face grew pale as he panicked and grabbed America before hitting him on the back a few times and squeezing his stomach, watching in relief as a slimy, white blob popped out of his open mouth. America then burst into tears and started punching England’s stomach.
“Are you trying to kill me?! That stuff tastes horrible!”
England poked him in the forehead and smacked himself in the face.
“You bloody fool, you’re supposed to OPEN the box and eat what’s INSIDE the box!”
America stopped hitting him and laughed at himself before ripping open the box and sighing as the delicious aroma of fried rice, sweet and sour beef glazed in Chinese sauce and scrambled eggs filled his nostrils. Grabbing the nearest utensils, which happened to be a pair of chopsticks, he attempted to grab the meat, but pouted in frustration when it kept slipping out of his grip.
“Daddy! How do you use these pointy stick things?! The stuff keeps on falling off!”
“I don’t know, America! I’m not Chinese!”
America just huffed and resorted to stabbing the meat with one chopstick. Staring at the succulent beef in awe, he stood, as if in a trance. Watching America holding the food and not eating it, England was getting annoyed.
“What are you waiting for, eat it already! Bloody hell…”
And so, America shoved the meat in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully for a few moments. The room was silent for a few seconds before England piped up.
“So… how does it taste?”
America’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree and he grabbed the container before stuffing his face with the rice, letting the chopsticks fall to the floor as he decided to use his hands to grab it and shovel it into his mouth.
“This stuff is AWESOME! It tastes, like one million times better than the stuff you usually make! Haha! MINE!!! THIS IS MINE!!!”
“You little twerp-“
Running around the house, America clutched the food like a lost puppy and devoured it quickly, occasionally turning his head and laughing at the furious England running after him, steam fuming from his ears.
Dodging the blow that America attempted on his head, England struggled to hold in the nostalgia that was threatening to burst through his brain. Successfully slamming the rifle into the young nation’s stomach, America doubled over, clutching his stomach and coughed up blood. Watching circles of red form on the ground only to be dissolved into the ground by the rain, which had gone from drizzling to pouring, England felt that his parenthood were like those drops of blood. It was there, for an instant, and then faded into nothingness.
“Why do you want this so badly, America?! Just stay with me, please!”
America wiped the blood from his mouth and laughed bitterly.
“Don’t be stupid, England. You know perfectly well why I want this.”
“Daddy, what happened? Why are you crying?”
England wiped the tears from his face and scoffed at himself.
“Oh, it’s nothing, my boy. Go to bed now, it’s getting late.”
He hung his head and held his face in his hands, trying to forget the lost battle and all the men that had died, under his control. Surprisingly, he felt small arms grab him and pull him into a hug. Smiling, England ruffled America’s hair and sighed.
“Daddy, you work too hard. BUT, I suppose that’s a good thing, because you’re saving up for the new game that’s coming out, right?”
England chuckled and lightly punched him in the arm. Once again, America had managed to cheer him up. Picking him up, England piggy-backed America to his room and sat him on the bed before tucking him into warm covers.
“You little brat, you’re the reason that I’m so broke now…” England groaned jokingly.
America just laughed cheekily and closed his eyes.
“Good night, daddy.”
England placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.
“Good night, America.”
America then struck England in the nose, a mix of sadness and angriness washing over his grimy face. A small trail of blood oozed from England’s nostril as he attempted to wipe all of it away. Swinging his rifle around wildly, the metal side cracked against America’s skull. Watching in disbelief at what he did to his own son, England’s grip on the gun loosened. America dropped to the ground, a puddle of blood forming at his head. A few seconds later, he painfully craned his neck towards England and muttered three words.
“Kill me now.”
Watching America lying in an expanding pool of blood, begging for England to kill him was too much to bear for England.
“You bloody idiot… You k-know I can’t sh-shoot you…”
“Father… please… kill me now.”
England flung the gun somewhere to his right and kneeled down towards his son, feeling his heart burning. The tears wouldn’t cease flowing, and England made no attempt to stop them. He simple ripped off a part of his shirt and wrapped it around America’s wound, trying to staunch the flow of blood. Fortunately, America made no move to push him away.
“I can’t, you bloody scum. I… I l-love you too much. I don’t care much if you tell me that I’m no longer your father, you can have that independence if you want. Just… don’t bloody die on me now…”
England managed to prop his ex-son against a tree. America strained himself and motioned for the older nation to move closer. Hesitantly, England moved closer and was shocked to feel the no-longer small arms of America wrap around his abdomen. England could feel his ragged breathing against his neck.
“Thanks, dad- I mean, well; I c-can’t call you d-daddy anymore can I? J-just England… or Arthur… or Mr. Kirkland…” America choked on his tears and coughed a few times, blood trickling down his chin.
England simple stroked his back and whispered into America’s ear.
“You call me whatever you want, America. You’re independent now… You don’t need to ask me before you do anything…”
“Th-thank you… dad… If I ever try to hurt you again, p-please remember that… I still l-love you.”
