A/N: Well, I am proud to say that this songfic was 1820 words without the Author's Notes!

Alright. Basically, XbehindtheseaX requested that I do a songfic for 'You' by Breaking Benjamin because it's the perfect US/UK song. And after listening to it, I totally agree. This took a little while, and towards the middle I kinda cried while typing it. Just a little...

Alright, I wanna put a few warnings/disclaimers:

Disclaimer 1: I do not own APH or its various nouns, nor do I own the song or its artists or anything. I also don't own the requester.

Disclaimer 2: I didn't look up my facts on the Opium Wars or pretty much anything opium related, but I used opium as a recurring theme. It just seemed to fit. So, any inaccuracies don't matter because this is solely for the amusement of myself, the requester, and any readers.

Warnings: US/UK, swearing, drug abuse, angst... what I usually do, including the customary happy ending!

EDIT: If you see the end, I was gonna do a lemon... BUT... Iunno. It didn't seem right to drag out the songfic like this. If she who requested the fic wants it, then I'll do a second lemony chapter. I'd ask her before putting this up, but I wanna upload this NOW, dammit! However, I do take requests. So if you want a lemon, lime, fluff, songfic, addition to an existing story... I'll pretty much do anything along the guidelines set forth in the first chapter of 'Prussia's Playlist of Doom'. Seriously, though, you want it, you ask, I write it. That simple. (as long as you follow my small amount of rules... and there aren't that many and they're fairly reasonable...)

I had more I wanted to add, but I don't remember. Plus there's this really icky bug flying around my room and it's somehow freaking me out and pissing me off at the same time. I swear to God, I have no idea how the fuck it got here... *grumbles*

My hands are broken,
and time is going on and on it goes,
forever (how long?)

America had left England years ago, and each year's extravagant birthday party was like a dagger to his heart. Every time it rained, he remembered that day when he knelt in the mud, knees weak and hands as broken as his spirit and his heart. That moment… It was the moment in which America left him. It was the moment when his world collapsed. And that one horrible moment would be with him forever.

So I got high and,
lived all that life
that I have taken all for granted

And then came the opium. He had already been smoking it for a couple hundred years, but barely, and only on rare occasions. Now, however, he became nearly dependent on it. When he was on opium, he could live like he wanted in his own little dream world. In his perfect world, America had never left him. They'd never battled in the rain.

But under the influence of opium, England let his true feelings show. Feelings that even he didn't know he harboured. Only when he was high did he come to terms with the fact that he… felt something for his… former colony. But in his dream world it was alright. America was still by his side, and they would hug and kiss and…

But England didn't remember anything after coming down from his high. All he remembered was the fact that he no longer hurt. So he kept on doing it, no matter how harmful it was. He was a bloody Nation; he didn't need to worry about health the way humans did!

Promise me you'll try
to leave it all behind
'Cause I've elected hell,

And all too soon, it ended. He and China had those damn wars over opium and he swore off the stuff. But one day, around the early 21st Century, he felt that familiar pang in his heart, and he remembered the sheer bliss that opium seemed to give him all those years ago. So he thought, 'Why the hell not?' Getting drunk didn't do the trick. Somehow it seemed to make him more miserable. Well, that wasn't really true. Alcohol got his emotions and deep-seated bad feelings all to the outside, and left this slightly pleasant blur of numbness on the inside. It was like a mental novacaine. But he missed the bliss of opium.

That's when America found him.

"A-Arthur…?" America seemed shocked. Arthur snorted at this. He hadn't started yet, was just holding it, so he retained all of his bitterness and reason.

"Arthur, what the hell are you doing?" Alfred yelped. It was a maddening mix of painful, sad, endearing, and blissful to hear his name called in America's voice. Maddening, simply maddening!

"What the hell does it look like I'm doing, you bloody git?" Arthur snapped in reply.

"W-why would you do something like this?" America stuttered, deep blue eyes wide and questioning. Worry, concern, caring… England shook his head. America fucking left him – there was no way he could see any of that in the little prat's eyes.

"Why wouldn't I?" England retorted. America opened his mouth to interject, but England cut him off. Dropping the opium and jumping to his feet, he glared and started to shout. "I gave you everything you needed – I bloody cared for you and loved you and you threw it away! Just because my boss needed money for some stupid war with that bastard France, you decide that gives you the right to throw everything away! You wanted to be fucking independent, well you've got it. You broke my heart, you twat. The least you could fucking do is let me get stoned and stave off the horrible feelings you left me with – because you sure as hell aren't going to do anything about it!"

Alfred's eyes (when did they begin to get misty?) widened as the tears threatened to spill.

"Arthur," he said, voice cracking. "I never wanted to leave you. But… but you had to listen to your boss and I had to listen to my people, and they were so opposed… and… there was just something I needed you to see… But I wanted to stay with you… And I could have turned out better. I… Fuck, Arthur! You're not the only one who wishes it would have been different! You're not the only one who's heartbroken! Just… please promise me you'll try to leave it all behind! I've tried my best, and it still hurts, but if we can get over the past there's a whole future right there. I went through horrible things, too. My people elected war… I elected hell."

lying to myself
Why have I gone blind?
Live another life

Arthur tried to leave it behind, but he was lying to himself if he said it didn't hurt.

He wasn't just lying about that, though.

He should have realized sooner that Alfred leaving him hurt more than the others leaving him. He should have realized why. It was as if England had gone blind. But the worst part was that he was living another life in his dreams… and he couldn't, for the life of him, figure it out.

The only way out
is letting your guard down and never die
forgotten (I know)
Forgive me my love

England knew what he had to do. He had to let his guard down. During a meeting, when America was giving another speech full of stupid, childish, naïve ideas, he finally let those thoughts roam free throughout his mind, coming to terms with the thoughts that only took charge when he was under the influence of opium. He came to terms with everything and it finally made sense why America leaving him hurt more than everyone else, why he fought harder to keep America, everything. And finally, after all these years, he smiled. He really truly smiled. And it wan't because he was talking to his (not imaginary!) friends, or because he had just got one-up on France, or because he was being bitter, or because he had a happy memory from the past. He smiled for the present, for the wonderful feelings and thought that he had finally let loose after nearly 250 years!

America, however, was worried. England hadn't said one word through his speech, and he was even smiling! Though, it really didn't seem like he was paying attention anyway…

Fuck!

Yes, America was sure that England had started the effing opium again.

After the meeting (which America ended early with a fake call from his boss), America confronted England. The Island Nation was still sitting at the table, this time with his head in his hands. When he came to terms with his feelings, he was positively euphoric. Then reality hit him. Alfred would never feel the same about him, and he could never tell the boy.

Because no matter what America said, England was still left behind, forgotten. He was forgotten.

He felt Alfred look at him. Arthur didn't see it; his head was in his hands and he was looking downward with his eyes covered. He knew Alfred was looking at him, and he knew what America was thinking.

"I know," he said simply.

"What?" asked Alfred quietly.

"I know what you're thinking, and I didn't." He sighed heavily. "I just came to terms with something. Though, gettnig stoned would indeed be a lot easier."

Alfred was relieved. Still, there was the problem of what had upset Arthur so badly. Sitting down next to the older Nation, (unbearably close!) he softly asked, "What did you come to terms with?"

And in that split second, England made a life-changing decision.

He lunged, kissing America's lips suddenly and passionately. This lasted for about three seconds. Just as the innitial shock wore off and America was about to kiss back, England pulled away. "I'm sorry, my love," he whispered, running away.

I stand here all alone
And I can see the bottom

America stood there and touched his lips gently. Oh, God… So that was why… and why… and…

After another few dumbstruck moments, America ran after England as quickly as he could. And in a flash, he could see the bottom of his heart. He had loved England for so long; ever since he was a colony. Ever since just before the war. That was why he agreed to have that stupid revolution in the first place. If he were his own Nation, then England would see him as an equal… England could finally love him the way America always wished he would. They could be together… But that day in the rain, he realized what a horrible mistake he had made, and how truly wrong he was. And as soon as he caught up with England, he would tell him this.

Promise me you'll try,
to leave it all behind
'Cause I've elected hell,
lying to myself
Why have I gone blind?
Live another life

Neither could leave the past behind, but they could both try together. America elected that hell, better known as revolution. England lied to himself for nearly 250 years. They were blind to the love of the other, each living another separate life.

But America and England were in love, and that was the driving force behind everything each one did.

Alfred caught up with Arthur, who was sobbing in the empty breakroom. Wrapping his arms around the shorter Nation, America gently yet forcefully guided their lips together. After a small moment of stunned surprise, he started to kiss back.

They added tongue and touch, England threading his fingers through America's hair and Alfred pressing his hands to the small of Arthur's back. Both actions brought the two closer together, closer than they had ever been. And they suddenly felt the need to feel each other's skin.

But they had waited for so many years, another hour wouldn't kill them. America pulled away slowly, a small trail of saliva connecting the two.

"I love you, Arthur. The revolution… I thought that if I were independent you would start to see me as an equal. I didn't want to, but I loved you so much more than what we had at the time, and I knew that you wouldn't accept that unless you thought I was mature. An adult. But I've tried and I've loved you, and I always have and always will. You and I are so different, but if we're together now then we might be able to start to let the past go. I love you."

Arthur, consumed with an inexplicable joy, could only nod and kiss his former colony once more.

It wasn't what they had.

It was better.