AN: This is the playlist in my brain as I wrote this (just in case ya wanna listen too) Quiet Things No One Ever Knows by Brand New, The Flowers, Sword and the Pen, and December by Regina Spektor, and Lovesong by The Cure

See ya at the bottom if you are still around ;D

Quiet Things No One Ever Knows

2001

In retrospect, America was pretty sure breaking up via text wasn't the best idea. I mean, he was a hero, so all of his ideas were great. But that one in particular wasn't in his top ten of great ideas.

His phone started ringing seconds later.

"And what exactly do you mean by 'S-R-S-L-Y don't feel good 'bout this. Need space. C-U-L-eight-R'?" The voice was angry, very angry.

"Look, it's not going to work out. I just have this really bad feeling."

"But, we've been together for so long..." the words came out chocked and America tried to push the image of a crying England out of his mind.

"Nu-huh, we have broken up like, three hundred million times!"

"No, it was only four. Five times now, I suppose," it was barely spoken above a whisper and after the last syllable was uttered England hung-up.

1783

"You used to be great."

Those words, thrown like daggers and received like knives in the back, cutting, tearing, stabbing.

It was rainy and they were tired.

"Can't we just forget about this? Can't you just be mine again?"

No, that wasn't what he wanted to say.

He wanted to say I love you, don't leave me.

He wanted to say I'd be nothing without you.

But it didn't work out that way, and instead he added, "You'll be nothing without me."

America's eyes filled with a sad pity. He didn't reply, only stood above his former caretaker, the former love of his life.

It wasn't enough to just be his his.

They weren't equals before.

They were now.

So he just stood, watching England's tears mix in with the rain.

"I'm so bloody stupid," Britain had finally recognised his defeat and stared at the ground, aware of the blue eyes watching him.

And Alfred took a moment to think of the right thing to say to make it better.

"Hey, you and me are going to have a big love affair one day. And it won't work, but somewhere in the middle, god, we'll try. We'll try real hard."

And he didn't feel right to just leave after he said those words. So he continued to watch England, to watch the sadness.

And it was cold and rainy and they were tired. But maybe there was a tiny spark of hope in the lingering glance and the thoughtful phrases.

1861

"Dear England,

I feel like three people all at once.

And it hurts because I just want to be one.

They never agree, even over the simplest stuff, and it makes me really, really tired.

I don't want to say the wrong things to you, but I am afraid I will.

And I'm afraid of it all the time.

Like tomorrow I might wake up and I would not be me anymore.

I wouldn't love you anymore. And right now I can't live without you.

And what we had was so great; what we had was so sweet.

But I'm going to set you free because I don't deserve you.

You deserve much better.

With love,

United States of America"

England's fingers traced over the crinkled paper, tears clouding his eyes.

"Oh Alfred, my stupid boy."

He went to the study to find some paper and ink. Outside birds were chirping, the clouds told of rain, and the smell in the air carried promise.

Spring had started with a bang.

1940

"England! Are you okay? I got here ASAP!"

"A sap?" Sure, he was sickly and dying but god damnit if a sap would be his last words.

"ASAP, like as soon as possible," America refrained from the urge to roll his eyes.

"Oh, well, there was no-" but a weak cough shook his body, interrupted his speech and disproved his point.

Blue eyes turned fierce, dangerous, "I'll kill 'im. I'll kill them for you."

"America- Alfred, calm down."

This was what he feared. The side of America that was crazy with power, the side diluted with violence and hate.

"I won't calm down! Look at you! You look like shit!"

Arthur burst into raspy heaves, large tears feel down his face. He sunk into the hospital bed, filling the silence with strangled sobs.

So, America conceded, maybe that wasn't the best thing to say.

"Get out, don't look at me," the Briton managed to spit out.

"Look, I'm sorry," and Alfred sat next to him and pulled him into a hug, careful of the wounds and scars scattered over his fragile body.

"This doesn't feel right," England mumbled into a shoulder.

"Hm?"

"I said this doesn't feel right, now let me go."

"No."

"Alfred," maybe he was trying to sound intimidating but his voice was still laced with tears and sorrow.

"No," and Alfred covered his lips with Arthur's cold, chapped ones.

It wasn't passionate and sweet, it was desperate and hungry.

He didn't ask for permission just demanded it and open England's clamped lips with a skilful swipe of tongue.

"Did that feel right?" Alfred was grinning so eagerly and it was heartbreaking.

England shook his head and averted his attention away from the ocean blue eyes.

"Uh-hm," Arthur cleared his throat and began, "I love you Alfred. But you aren't you anymore. You're not like yourself. I wanted this to work so badly but it's not going to."

And Alfred just smiled that dumb smile, "You don't know what you're saying. Get some rest and I'll talk to you later. I love you!" He got up to leave but stopped at the door way, turning his head back.

"You didn't say it back."

Arthur feigned sleep.

1946

"Dude! We've only been together for like, 5 years!"

"Yes Alfred, but they were oh so long."

"Don't say that! You're just mad."

"I'll leave you, do not doubt it."

"I won't let you." The words were sturdy, the worried look was gone.

"You don't own me Alfred, I'm not your property."

"You love me too much to leave."

Alfred looked so tall, so strong, so independent.

He was so grown-up.

"You've started lying."

"I never lied to you!"

"Who knows..." England stood his ground, though he felt so small and his chest was sore and it was such an achy feeling he wanted to curl into a ball and cry for hours.

"Trust is like paper, Alfred. Once it is crumpled it will never be perfect again."

America had become a superpower.

2001

England made himself a cup of tea, the familiarity of it all calmed him down. He sat in his favourite chair in the living room and turned on the television to watch the evening news.

"As we come on air, we have serious news on a major possible air plane crash in the United States-"

England's heart skipped a couple beats, then he scrambled to find his phone.

"Alfred! Alfred! Please pick up!" he shouted at the phone which had not been answered on the other line yet.

It went to voice mail.

"Oh god, oh god!"

Then a part of him thought, well why would I care? We aren't even together anymore.

But that wasn't true. The break-up was a mistake. He was just stressed.

Arthur picked up his phone and tried again.

"H-hello,"

"Alfred! Alfred, are you alright, love?"

"England..." And the voice was so weak, the voice wasn't even there.

"Of course!"

"I'm sorry."

And then the call ended.

Arthur couldn't help but hear the news, "We've got some pictures that just came in, of a second plane crash, crashing into the other tower."

And England held tightly onto his phone, crying tears he'd never admit too.

"Hey you and me are going to have a love affair one day. And it won't work, but somewhere in the middle, god, we'll try. We'll try real hard."

AN: So...waddya think? Some of those little angsty break up lines are quotes from websites, and I don't own them

Pwease review

Can anyone guess all the events from the time periods? If you can you win a prize! (and no, it is not an internet cookie)

This was another possible ending so I'll add it to my note, it's short.

2011

They would go to the conference on Monday, they would tease each other and poke fun at characteristics and traits. And the others, they would get annoyed, they would be humoured. But those little moments, those personal scars that your history book will never talk about, those would be there all along, hiding under a crisp suit and a wrinkled tie.

Those quiet things no on ever knows.

Well, HarponMOO is out ;D