It was cold.

Lying in dark silence, that was all England could think of, and unable to move nor see in the outstretched darkness, all England could do was think. And in that silence, all he thought was: "It was cold".

"wake up."

Were it not for the occasional drops of warmth on his cheeks, England would have believed himself to be dead. He appreciated how the warmth would break the painful coldness, bringing him back to life in an instant. But, in that same instant, the warmth would disappear.

"Wake Up!"

Blearily opening an eyelid, all England could see through a haze of blurs was a brilliant, shining sky blue. The source of his warmth. England tried to reach out and touch the warmth, it was within his line of sight, so close, so bright, yet, he failed, unable to find strength to move his frozen limbs.

"Arthur, Wake up!"

England both loved and hated the warmth. It gave him strength, reached him in the darkness. But at the same time it was sad. So very, very sad. And it made England's heart break. He wanted to comfort the source of his warmth, and preserve the innocent sky blue that he adored.

"Damn it! Arthur, Get Up!"

Using the last of his strength, England tried to utter his final words of comfort and affection. Parting his lips to let out three simple words that would convey his entire being, his heart fell, as only silence exited. He could feel as the darkness ate away at his consciousness, faster every second as his energy quickly ran out.

"Lazy Idiot, get your ass up!"

Desperation and panic clutched at his heart. But even with his utmost determination, his body failed to allow him to reach out towards the sky blue, to comfort it... no... him. America. His dear, precious hero. With that name engraved into his mind, England fell into darkness, the sheer coldness of his sadness and regret engulfing him.

" Arthur Kirkland Davis, if you don't get your fucking ass out of bed I will PUSH you off!"

Gasping, Arthur shot out of his bed quickly, causing himself to tangle in his covers and magnificently plant his face on the floor by his bed. Sitting up, grumbling to himself, he shot a glare at the the figure smiling smugly at his door.

" Damn it Marie, what the FUCK do you think you're doing?", Arthur growled at the blond haired 17 year old standing at the entrance to his room.

" I obviously just woke you up, stupid eyebrows ", Marie retorted, an arrogant smirk ghosting her lips.

Arthur scowled.

" Don't call me eyebrows, you bloody git! Why are you even in my house you live next door, NOT HERE, or is that french brain of yours too small to comprehend that?"

" Oi, don't mock the french. Nous sommes magnifique. Unlike you stupid yanks from America."

Arthur huffed indignantly, scowl deepening.

" We happen to be in America, which if you haven't noticed, is a fantastic country, despite its lack of intelligent people, and also I'm from the 51st state which even though it is still technically American, is quite more cultured than the main land. And anyways you still haven't answered my question."

Marie huffed.

" You're dad let me in. He was afraid that you'd poison your petite frère with the trash you call cooking. So, I brought breakfast my mom cooked, so you better get dressed and come down to the kitchen to worship superior french cuisine, mon ami"

" Yes, mother "

At that, Marie glowered, grumbling something along the lines of: "I'm not your mother" before turning and strutting down the hallway, not resisting to leave one last retort at the disheveled blond in the room.

" And you should loosen up, or those eyebrows of yours are going to merge into one massive creature and eat your face", she said, smirking.

Arthur's scowl deepened even more, fulfilling Marie's prophecy and merging his eyebrows into one being. Hearing her footsteps disappearing into the kitchen, Arthur sighed, running a hand through his hair, not that it helped tame the mess. The blond got up, muttering to himself about rude Frenchwomen, and made his way to the bathroom, picking up a set of clean clothes en route.

Examining himself in the mirror, Arthur pulled on a pair of faded skinny jeans, along with a white short sleeved dress shirt topped with a button down emerald green vest. Giving himself a one over, he nodded, satisfied with his appearance, then headed over to the kitchen where the voices of his younger brother, father and Marie were animatedly discussing whether or not blueberries were better than strawberries on crepes.

Greeting his father at the table, playfully ruffling his 11 year old brother's hair and gracefully ignoring Marie, Arthur carried himself to the kitchen counter snatching a breakfast crepe, courtesy of Marie's mom before taking a the seat at the table and munching on his breakfast.

" Mornin' Arthur!" , his younger blue eyed brother, chirped.

Arthur glanced up at the boy, flashing a soft smile his way.

" Good Morning, Alex. You too, Dad"

Alex gave a toothy grin before returning to munch on his own breakfast. Arthur's father only grunted in acknowledgment, sipping coffee and reading the political section of the newspaper.

" Hey, don't I get a good morning", Marie cut in, mustering up a pout that would make a hardened soldier cave. But not Arthur.

" You lost the privilege the second you stepped into my room"

" I was at your doorway, which is technically not in your room"

" Fine, your privilege was lost the moment you opened your mouth at my door way"

Excusing herself from the table, Marie shot a murderous glare at Arthur, who smirked.

" Bastard! Fine! I'm going to school without you!"