Yeah... First and probably last attempt at APH fanfiction... Just got the idea while listening to Welcome to the Black Parade by My Chemical Romance, and wrote it during my vacation. Unfortunately... I know have writer's block. Anyways, enjoy~ Reviews are very much appreciated. So... kindly leave on for this lovely drabble?

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, or its characters.

Warnings: Sad England. AmericaxEngland.

The battle was finally over. It had raged for what felt like ages, decimating the numbers of both armies. The battlefield was muddy, rain still pelting down and filling the footprints they'd left behind. Muskets lay in the mud, along with the cooling, bloody bodies of their fallen comrades. The unlikely side stood victorious in their bare feet and ragged, muddy clothes, save for the few who actually had uniforms of royal blue. The redcoats were still stunned by their loss, unable to process that they'd been defeated.

There were to men at the head of each side, one in red and one in blue, England and America. England was on his knees in the mud, staring at the ground. The only one who knew him well enough to tell he was crying was America, who'd grown up under the older country's care. America stared down at him, his wet bangs sticking to his face, and watched the rain and tears run down his cheeks and drip off of his chin.

Eventually, he knelt down in the mud in front of England, the remaining soldiers watching them without saying a word. Using a finger, he tilted the other's chin up, staring into his eyes. "Do you not want me to follow my heart?" he asked quietly. Even the closest soldiers had to strain to hear what he said.

England reached up and wiped his cheeks, though he knew it would do no good. "It's not that." His voice was rough, whether from exhaustion, the tears he'd shed, or a combination of the two, Alfred couldn't tell.

"Then what is it?" While he wanted his freedom and was glad that he now had it, he also hated to see the other in such a state.

Arthur hesitated to answer. "I… I watched you grow up, took care of you. I don't want you to leave me."

At that, the young country couldn't help but smile and lean forward to let his forehead rest against the other's. "Silly England." He felt the older country twitch slightly. "I'm not leaving you. I'm just taking a different path. I know you'll still be there from me, just watching me from the sidelines. I've made my mistakes, and you've helped me to stand back up afterwards. Now it's time I move on and pick myself up. You've taught me well enough that you can let me make my own decisions." America took a breath and wrapped his arms around the country that had raised him, closing his eyes. "I'm not a hero for doing this. I'm just a man that was willing to die for his freedom to show you how much you've taught me. I love you, Arty." He murmured, tilting his head in a way that allowed him to place a soft kiss on the other's lips.

It was safe to say that all the assembled soldiers were shocked by this, including Arthur. Fortunately, for him, it was a pleasant surprise.

"You have that freedom," he murmured in reply, biting his lip softly. "Just don't forget me."

"I never could."