Divine. | Countryhumans rusame

(Almost) forgotten memories

Warning: Angst.

Ever wondered why America's left eye is slightly blind?

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^ Third POV ^

America leaned against the wall the most comfortable way he could, which wasn't much, and stared into space.

Since he was stuck here in the dark with nothing to do besides counting the drips of water that came from god knows where all he could think of was his past.

Something he didn't want to think about and would usually distract himself by doing things to not remember. He was so sure he almost forgot them if he didn't remember this, would he have forgotten it for good..?

That would've been a miracle on his end.

__

There American stood, amidst the rain in front of his father, Britain. The area around them was lifeless due to it being a spot of war between them.

"I gave you life, and this is how you repay me?" Britain tilted his head up as he was kneeling on the ground with blood spilling from his mouth.

He knew the reason for America's rebellion, too many taxes and whatnot. However, the British man did not think the war would go far, much more with the actual possibility of America winning it.

America furrowed his brows yet said nothing, instead, he pulled up his gun aiming at Britain's head. Britain looked down and closed his eyes, there was no use, his gun was kicked too far away.

He waited for death. He was not new to it anyway, most personifications of countries weren't anyway. Lots have died and then came back, some died and didn't come back. Being an immortal sure sucked.

Click

Britain's eyes shot back open to face his son once again. America looked at him with indifferent eyes, the same eyes that used to look at him with admiration, now only looked at him with negativity.

Britain felt his eyes sting at this thought, where did his parenting go wrong? When did he become a bad parent in America's eyes?

Click

"You really want to get rid of me so badly?" Britain bitterly laughed, ignoring the ache in his chest. He almost felt as if it was right for his son to kill him, after all, he must deserve it for America to hate him this much.

"Fuck you," America whispered and put his gun back in its holder harshly. "If your soldiers don't find you, I hope the wolves do," He said and turned away to start walking.

He was letting Britain live another day. It was relieving but not as satisfying as Britain would've liked.

The only thing that could be heard was the heavy rain and the crunch of sticks and a few leaves under America's shoes as he walked away.

"I tried to be a good father."

America stopped and felt his lip twitch. He turned his head slowly to see tears running down Britain's face which caught him off guard.

His father looked like a broken man. Something that did not fit his pride and confidence, it was an unsettling sight to see. Never once had he seen his father cry until now.

But it was far too late to give him pity.

"Then you didn't try hard enough," America replied, obvious hurt in his voice as he swallowed the lump in his throat.