Summary: America has always been able to see the colors of the world but he can't remember why.

Background: This is a soul mates color thing where when you meet your soul mate you can see color and when they die you lose that ability. I'm a little late on the bandwagon but oh well. I want to point out that this is a little different in that people who don't have their soul mates can see a degree of color if they're in love or love in some capacity, like looking through a filter almost, but it has nothing on the colors and clarity that those who've met their soul mates have.

Warnings: The feels?

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. Damn.

A/N: So I'm trying to avoid studying for a mid-term tomorrow and I remembered I had this written out and decided to type it out. Please enjoy!

The Colors

No one had ever asked America if he could see in color. Very few assumed he could since he always extolled the colors of his flag and those golden arches with an almost unsurpassable fervent passion. Others had come to the conclusion that America had never actually seen colors and had just been told about the colors he vehemently defended due to the fact that his color choices in almost any other instance, especially when it came to food, were questionable at best. However, the majority of the other nations assumed that, like many of them, America's had met his soul's mate but they had been human and when that person had died so too had his ability to see colors. It was accepted in any civilized company that no one, not even the most heated of rivals, were to bring up such an agonizing loss and so no one had ever asked if he could see colors.

England had assumed that America's soul mate had died long ago when America was still his colony. He remembered when the boy was still barely to his waist when he had come to visit America only to be greeted to the sight of his colony bursting with so much joy that it seemed to shine through his very being. At first England had thought he had brought about the joy that America was displaying, for it had been many years since their last meeting, but when he, England, had entered the house he learned of America's true source of happiness. The inside of the house was a medley of random splashes of colors. Well he didn't know if they were different colors per se but he could see the different shades of streaks across the walls where they weren't supposed to be.

"Alfred, what's the meaning of this?" The paint was dry but still very fresh.

"It's just so pretty!" America happily exclaimed. "I met him and then the world changed in just one burst of light! The colors are everywhere and they're just so beautiful! How'd I not see it before? Don't you like it?"

America's innocent question gave England conflicting emotions. On the one hand England was glad America was so happy but on the other hand he was worried about just who exactly made him see color. If it was a human then his colony would be devastated in the relatively near future but there was always the possibility that it was another country. Many of the others had come to scout out the new world be it for trade or other, more devious, matters. Even though America was only a colony he had dealings with other countries despite England's discouragement of such actions. If America's soul mate turned out to be another country then that country would have grounds to declare a war on England for the rights of the colony and seize a foothold in the new world.

England was also a little jealous. He had never seen the colors that others had claimed to witness and some days he could convince himself that everyone was just having him on rather than admit he was lonely. Every time he would come close to deluding himself he would recall a time when he had been very nearly in love and would see flickers of things he can scarcely imagine, let alone remember, before they wavered out of existence once more only to stop completely when King Arthur had met his end at the Battle of Camlann. He shed the wizarding name he had used before and adopted his almost beloveds as his world had gone dark and gray. It had stayed that way until America had picked him as his big brother. Suddenly his world had gained some light and became softer. It was just as parents had described upon first looking at their child or siblings who were close to one another. It was that feeling that familial connection.

"Alfred, do you know who the man who made you see these colors is?" England asked hesitantly.

"A sailor! He said that he was just passing through for trading!" America practically shouted with enthusiasm. The man had just been so interesting with the oddest accent and the prettiest eyes that he could only now truly see and appreciate. It was his favorite color so far and it was evident by the paint on the walls. He didn't know much else about him, he didn't need to, but he was sure of one thing, the man had not been a sailor. Since they were in his land America could sense that the other was of the same ilk as himself. He was another country. He was even told which one.

England let out a sigh of relief. It was only a sailor. He never thought that America would lie to him about such a thing.

"You didn't tell him about us did you?" England probed. Countries were to never reveal themselves to those not in charge of their territory without express approval of their bosses even if that person turned out to be their soul mate.

"Nope! I remembered what you said!" Alfred had, in fact, remembered what England had said and, at least in this one respect, America didn't disobey his elder brother. He had introduced himself as a regular colonist and held fast in this conviction despite the evident heartbreak in the man's eyes. The other country may have been his soul mate but he didn't want to be taken away from England like he had been warned would happen if he met with another country when England was not present.

The other country left quickly after not wanting to get even more attached to a mortal who would break his twisted heart even further than it already was. In little less than a century at best his world would go dark once again and most likely stay that way for the rest of time.

"That's a good lad! Put him far from your mind for now and tell me how you've been otherwise." England exclaimed with a false sense of joviality. America had taken his words to heart and put the other man far from his thoughts and basked in the warmth of being with his brother again.

After that day the two never spoke of it again as soon after their relationship had turned tempestuous which eventually culminated in the revolution. Arthur, whenever he happened to give it any thought, assumed that after so many years that the human sailor that had caught America's eye had fallen to time bringing America's beloved streaks of color with him.

Alfred, after so many years, had forgotten who it was that had allowed him to see color. To be honest he often had to remind himself that others could not see what he could as hardly anyone dare speak of it in fear of upsetting those who had lost those so dear to them. He had been so young and so much time had passed since his world burst with such vivid and lively colors that he had little to no memories of a time when he couldn't see them. He knew on a basic level that his soul mate had to be one of the other countries, as a human could never live so long, but none of them had ever fessed up their position and America was content to let things be as they were for what was practically his entire life. Clearly, they didn't want him or, like him, had forgotten who the other person was and were just living their life. He was fine with that as he didn't feel the particular need to actively seek out such a relationship that being soul mates entailed, but, if one day the other person did feel the need he was more than open to it. Until such a time though he decided it would be best to carry on as normal.

America was wrong.

The other country did not forget him. When he had left little Alfred in the boy's homeland the country had returned to his own home and hid himself away. He was thoroughly convinced for the first century that his other half was mortal and would soon perish in one way or another. He agonized at the thought. He further tortured himself knowing how cruel he was being to the boy, to his soul mate. Only the more terrifying thought of an eternity of loss ahead of him prevented his return to America and seeking the boy, turned man, out. He knew it was kinder for the both of them if he allowed the other to live his life with his family and friends rather than get attached to a man who would never be able to stay with him for long before being forced to leave once again.

He bid his time and spent the next century thinking of the boy who had the disposition as bright as a sunflower and eyes as blue as the clearest skies. He would imagine how the young one would grow to be and a life that they would never be able to have together. Perhaps he had been young enough to move on and find another to love or maybe he grew up resentful that he had been deprived of the love that was supposed to be his. Was he tall or maybe short? Did his hair change color as he grew older as hair was prone to do? He secretly hoped it stayed the same shade as it was a beautiful color that matched his personality. What did he do for work? Was a merchant or maybe a farmer or maybe even a politician? When he got news of the revolution that was occurring in the man's colony he worried that he had gotten involved and any day now his world would go dark. He was so relieved when he learned of its end. As the century passed and his soul mate was certainly an old man by now he counted the days. He woke each morning expecting to see the worlds in shades of black and white. He waited and waited for the day but it never came.

When a hundred and twenty years had passed and he could still see the colors of the world around him he came to the conclusion that his soul mate was not human and in fact a country like him. Logically the only country that he could have possibly run into in such a young state was the then colony America. No other country would let their colony roam in another's colony unattended even if they were a part of the same Empire. The only way to meet a colony without the ruling country was if you did it in the colony's own territory and they had met in British America. Even a colony could sense another of their kind in their own land meaning that this whole time, America, had known who his soul mate was and did nothing about it. He was not wanted. In the heat of the moment of realization and joy he had revealed exactly who he was. He had explained it further to the young boy when the moment passed and realized he should leave in hopes that the young boy would understand in the future as to why he wouldn't be there. Surely if America had wanted to see him again he could set something up between their governments so that they could meet each other once more. No word had ever come in all the years leading up. He was truly unwanted even by the one person that mattered the most to him.

He felt his already twisted heart wrench.

His heart beat frantically against his rib cage as he felt it falling apart.

He was unwanted.

He was unneeded.

He was unloved.

Suddenly everything stopped as he felt something fall from his chest. He looked down to see his heart had literally come out of his chest for the first but not the last time. As the years passed his heart would fall out randomly and only he ever knew why. The others may not know it but he could see the colors of the world and have it be just as dark as before because he could never forget.

"Russia, dude, whatcha looking at?"

"Nothing that concerns you."

A/N: I honestly did not intend for that to come out as dark as it did. Like most of my fics I start off intending for them to be happy but they end up being this tragic mess. I don't know what's wrong with me.

I was planning on doing more with this but for now I'll leave it as a one-shot.

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Published: 4 August 2014