Alright, so this is the first installment of International Affairs. I've wanted to do this for a while, seeing as the world is and has been going absolutely insane. Some of the stuff I say in here might be controversial, but I think I'm okay with that. I'm what some Democrats might call a 'Right-Wing Extremist,' so I'm used to a lot of my opinions being shot down as 'wrong.' Besides, I like hearing other peoples' opinions—it widens my view on the world. Who wants to be narrow minded?

Anyways, I hope you like it! And even if you disagree with me, review! As I said, I like hearing other's opinions. Really, as long as you aren't rude and don't flame me, I'm fine with what you have to say.

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"We don't have a stronger friend and stronger ally than Nicolas Sarkozy, and the French people."

-President Barack Obama, 2011

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"Get out."

The ability to speak escaped America as he stared at England, trying to think of how to resolve the situation. It used to be so easy to talk to England, so easy to just be himself. But the look of pure malice directed towards him made it impossible for words to form correctly. How could England look at him like that? How could he think that he had meant for any of this to happen? How the hell could he think that he had wanted this to happen? Clenching his fists, America summoned all the strength he could find within himself as he spoke.

"I don't want any of this!" America said, feeling his fists quiver in anger. "I haven't chosen to do any of this! It's all been my boss! He's the one who's getting close to France, not me!"

"If you didn't want it," England hissed, glaring at him with such vehemence, America seriously thought he'd burst into flames from his hatred, "then why don't you do something about it, Mr. Hero?" The last word was spat out, actually making America flinch with the cruelty contained in it.

"Arthur, he won't—!"

His sentence was suddenly cut off by England grabbing him by the collar, roughly pulling him forward so their faces almost touched. "Don't you dare," he growled fiercely, "call me that name, Virginia Company."

The name sent a horrible chill down America's spine, a hatred he had never known to be possible held within them. England wasn't even considering him a nation anymore—he was calling him a colony; he was calling him nothing. He felt tears well up in his eyes, but he forced them to stay contained. No, he wasn't going to show such weakness in front of England. "I don't want any of this," America whimpered, his chest tightening with sadness. Why couldn't England understand this? Why couldn't he understand that he was doing all that he could? "Please, England, you have to believe me. He won't listen to me or the people. He's just doing whatever he wants. I've tried, but I can't do anything."

England didn't lift his glare, only letting it begin to smolder him. "You're pathetic." England shoved America away from him, grabbing the handle of the door. "Go run back to France, you little whore."

England made to slam the door, but America swung his foot between it and the door frame, causing pain to shoot up his leg. He sure as hell wasn't going to give up that easily, and England had to know that. "Listen to me, dammit!" America hissed, now glaring back at England with an equal amount of force. "I am trying to make him stop! Haven't you been listening to news at all? People have been protesting, people have been telling him to stop! But he won't listen! He—!" His next point was cut off though as England leaned against the door, putting more pressure on his foot. "Aah!" America yelped, trying to now wedge his foot from the door. "E-England! Stop it and listen!"

"Stop telling me what to do!" England roared, shoving against the door harder—hard enough for America to literally feel something try to shift in his foot.

"Gah! England!" he cried, the tears in his eyes on the verge of escaping because of the pain. "S-stop it! Let go!"

England kept himself pressed against the door, a horrifying glare on his face. "I have been there for you since World War II," he growled, his green eyes full of malice. "I helped you during the Cold War, during your slumps. I was there supporting you when you were nearly killed on September 11th! I cried with you; I went into war with you! I have done so much for you, and you betray me by siding with that son of a bitch France?" England removed the door from America's foot causing him to almost fall over. "What the hell has he ever done for you?"

His foot was in excruciating pain, which now served to make his anger more ferocious. "He helped me in the Revolutionary War. He got me away from you, and you know what?" he hissed, not caring how much England hurt—he had just tried to break his foot for Christ's sake. "I'm starting to remember why I left. Because all you are is a spiteful, hate-filled, stupid old man!"

As soon as the words had escaped his mouth, America desperately wanted to take them back. The rage on England's face faded, a solemnity replacing it. "Is that so?" he said, his voice deathly quiet. "Well then. I won't be in your way anymore." England stared at him in a mournful way, making America's chest feel like it was being crushed. "You can consider the Special Relationship a thing of the past then. I won't be a bother to you any longer."

America wanted to scream, wanted to beg for him to just listen. But not a single word was able to leave him before the door closed, a definite click audible as it locked. Numbness took him over, nothing making sense for what felt like an eternity—this couldn't have just happened. No, this can't be real. But feeling came crashing back to him as he realized that this was real. Everything was so damn real. He limped back to his car and slammed the door shut in time to keep his sobs muffled from the world.

Inside the far too empty house, England had collapsed against the door, his face buried between his knees as tears rolled down his face. He hated him. He hated America so God damn much! How could he do this to him? They had been allies, had been friends, for so long. A choked sob escaped him as his stomach twisted in pain. He would always be hated, always be alone. That was his fate in life. He had been an idiot to ever think otherwise.

It was over.

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:( Me no rikey… Okay, so just a little fact checking/clarifying. Technically the Special Relation is not null and void—it still exists. For the purpose of the story and creative license, I had them say it was over. Besides, emotions are high, and you say silly stuff when you're angry. :P

So, I only have a few ideas of what to do for chapters. I'm thinking of broadening world events, including things that aren't quite "modern" like the Cold War and such. I live in America, so affairs pertaining to us are the ones I'm most familiar with. Those across the world, give me your ideas! What current events are there that irk you or that you would like to see with Hetalia characters? Let me know, and I'll do what I can! :D

Thanks for reading and please review! :D