Now, I know I'm not the best of singers. I can scream, which does me well with my punk concerts, but, erm, any actual proper singing... I'm actually rather terrible at. And yet, despite that, my sub-par voice always sent my babies-er, I mean, my colonies-to sleep. Whenever I sit next to the bed of one of my b-colonies, I always feel a regrettable sense of painful nostalgia rush over me, and it's actually terrifying because, as I sing and hum to my colonies, I can't help but think, When is it this one's turn to leave me? I know I shouldn't; I should have faith in something-someone-but I can't. I just don't know how to trust anyone anymore. After I'd left France, I'd later gained a bright, promising colony. Yeah, you know the one - America. Frankly, I was tremendously astonished when he came over to me, azure eyes big and innocent and-and lonely-just like me-and told me, "Stop crying... I wanna be with you, Iggy," and smiled at me with such-such innocence that I'd lost so long ago and I wanted to make him stay that way. I didn't want him to go through what I had.

But I royally fucked that one up, didn't I? As he got older, I could see his craving for "freedom" increasing rapidly, but, as in my nature, I ignored it, hoping that if I dismissed the issue it would go away. But it didn't. It got worse, and it was all my fault. It always is, isn't it? I blame others for my discontent when, really, underneath it all, I... I'm falling. I'm falling and no one is going to save me because they all know that I'm a selfish, terrible person and I-I'm scared. When I left France, I was triumphant. I was young and stupid. And I was scared. I didn't want to be alone. Alone. I hate that word. It's all I am. Alone. It makes me angry and sad but at the same time I feel so-so defeated, and... I hate it. I hate feeling so vulnerable. I felt like it in 1776. Cold, scared, and once again, alone, sinking to my knees in the mud, not giving a shit about my bloody drenched uniform or how I couldn't stop shivering or how my eyes were burning and tears ran down my face-

I can't deny that it wasn't the rain. I was crying. I was crying because I was scared, vulnerable, and alone. I felt like I had no one left because I was so selfish. I still had colonies, but... with America, our bond was so strong that I... that I... That I what? Thought it would last forever? I smirk ruefully and shake my head, somehow managing to keep the rhythm of my humming in sync. Nothing lasts forever and soon... soon, all my colonies will leave me. France will be victorious; he can rub it in and say how he knew I'd end up this way and that I ruined everything and I won't retort because-because I know it's all true. It's just a matter of time, and... I hate feeling so frightened. I recall the time when I was a small country, and I was picked on and bullied. I showed them all, though, like I said I would. But where did that get me? Here. Here, sitting in a dark room, humming what could be the last lullaby ever, to one of my colonies that will also soon leave me. I know it's coming. China wants him back, and he-he's going to go back. And I know I'll obsess just like when America left me. I'll sit in Hong Kong's room and sing this lullaby through whiskey-induced tears and I'll scream and sob and hurt and-

And no one will hear me. No one will care. No one. I'll be alone. All alone. Again, forever. It must be fate. And-oh, Lord, I think I'm crying... I can't stop.

"England..."

He's already addressing me by my country name. It's no longer "papa" or "dad". Hell, I wouldn't have cared if he'd referred to me as "mum" at this point. I'd be glad. Glad that he still... cares...

"S-sorry, Hong Kong," I apologise gruffly, rubbing my eyes with the back of my sleeve and keeping my arm there as I forced a small smile that didn't reach my eyes. He could probably tell I was faking it. "I-I'm just..." Just what? Overreacting? But it hurts so much... Mentally, emotionally and-and physically. My throat is clogged up and I can't swallow, my eyes sting and burn the way they did when America left me and-Please tell me France didn't feel this way when I left. Oh, God... I-I'm despicable. I don't want anyone to feel this way. No one... deserves this loneliness. I feel sick. I want to be sick. "E-excuse me," I manage to say, not hearing how hoarse I sounded, and dashed into the bathroom, retching, and it burned and hurt my throat all the more as I hadn't eaten much; it was bile and stomach acid and alcohol, and the taste made me ill and crave more at the same time but, as I collapsed against the wall, not recalling falling to my knees, I blinked to clear the hazy sights my eyes produced, cringing when I saw Hong Kong standing at the doorway. "P-please..." I was going to say, "Please go," but... I want him to stay.

Shutting the door quietly so that the other colonies wouldn't hear my retching or sobbing or mutterings and delirious cries of, "Please don't leave me!" and, "I don't want to be alone again!" he quietly knelt next to me and silently pulled me into a hug, and I clinged onto him, vaguely realising he wasn't a lot shorter than I was, and that he had gotten so big now... I told him as much, and he just stroked my hair and told me,

"You will never be alone."

The next day, China greeted us at my front door, glancing briefly at our intertwined hands before telling Hong Kong that it was time to leave. At the word 'leave', I tightened my grip on my... no, he's no longer my colony. He's leaving me. He's leaving me alone and-God, no, I can't cry again! I'm such an-

My thoughts are cut off by lips pressed against mine and I feel some kind of vertigo and half-cling to Hong Kong, resisting the urge to say, "Don't go," and then slowly, ever so slowly, he pulled away from me, our hands untangled, and he stepped up next to China with a formal nod.

"Farewell, England. I shall look forward to seeing you at the next world conference." He then let a small smile appear on his face. "I shall miss you." Then, he followed China-When did China begin walking? I hadn't noticed...-with a small wave, and I waved back, watching them intently, even after they had long since disappeared into the distance, and I slumped against the wall behind me, feeling tears dripping down my cheeks, but I didn't bother covering my face; no one was there to see me cry.

"I can't remember... how long it's been since I've cried this much..." I whispered to himself, shoulders trembling and knees shaking. "I always do... when my colonies leave me... I'm so selfish," I muttered with a sardonic chuckle, lowering my gaze.

"Iggy?"

He froze. No. Not now. I can't deal with him-not now. Please, no.

"Hong Kong called me..." he said awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. "I... uh... I-Iggy?" he exclaimed in surprise when I rushed forward and clung to him. "A-aren't'cha gonna tell me to go away?" he asked, astonished.

I shook my head, burying my face into his shoulder-His jacket's so warm...-and clinging to him. He'd tease me later, but I couldn't stop myself. "Not yet," I whispered, my voice shaking. "S-stay..." I hate how pleading I sounded.

But when his arms wrapped around me and I was engulfed by his warmth and he whispered in my ear, I heard his and Hong Kong's voices mingle as he whispered,

"You will never be alone."

O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O

Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.

Before you all get all bitchy with me, I can explain why there have been a lack of updates on Tengoku ni Ochiru and To The Stars. Firstly, I am focusing on a reaaaaally long oneshot. It's USxUK and it's taking me a long time, not to mention I'm sick right now. Have been for a couple of days. I won't bore you with the symptoms but to let you know that I'm not making this up, it's half term, I've hardly eaten and whatever I do eat comes back up, I can't taste anything, even tea makes me feel like gagging right now and I feel dehydrated and not thirsty at the same time. So, there you have it. Don't pity me, just understand why I've not updated in a while.

This was meant to centre around HK and UK, but... I couldn't resist adding a tidbit of USxUK in the end there. Hey, I'm sick, I deserve it. Okay, I don't, b-but... I-I like it, okay? I don't care if you don't, 'cause I do and-and... Sh-shut up. I don't care. -huffs and looks away-

Sidenote... Is it any coincidence that I'm wearing an oversized jacket with a (fake-)fur collar? I want to paint a big 50 on the back...

Bloody hell, now I want more USxUK... ;n; (Don't I always?)

Please review or Iggy/Gosan will remain sick~
(Okay, so you probably care more if the real England got sick. Shit, so would I; I live in him! Ha... That sounds so wrong. Live in him. Like he's a house or as in an innuendo joke. Either way, it has an amusing image and... I'm having a JD moment... But seriously, if you live in a country and they're sick, it's got to have repercussions on the actual country... It's why England rains a lot; he cries too much. Aww, but he's cute when he cries. Even though Gosan hates crying. I'm rambling. And having a JD monologue that won't seem to stop...)