America looked out his window at the bright blue skies. The sun lit up the whole world outside. But not America's.

It should. America knew that he should be happy today. It was his birthday. But it didn't.

July 4th. The day he became independent. The day he truly became a nation.

The day he had left England.

America tried to push away the depressing thoughts, but he failed as images of the Revolutionary War flashed before his eyes, haunting him, like the ghost of his painful past.

This happened every year for America. He decided to try to get his mind off of it in a different way than he usually would.

He stood up from the table and walked out of the house.

~°~

America slipped through the door and into the bar.

He doesn't usually drink that much anymore, but he couldn't help it now. He got one, then another, but each one only made him think more about the Revolution, of England.

"I wonder," America muttered. "I wonder if he's found someone else. . . No, I don't wanna know. . ."

~°~

The 4th of July.

It's this time of the year again, England thought, sighing.

The day America left him. The day England's heart was torn. His heart only got shattered worse on this day every year. His heart ached at the thought of how this day changed their whole lives. They barely talked to each other anymore, unless they were insulting one another.

England hoped that America had at least found someone else that loved him. So that his former colony wouldn't be alone.

England went out of his house to do what he did every year on this day.

~°~

America heard the door open, and he looked up to see who had come in. His eyes widened as he saw England there, but he tried to ignore the elder nation and drained his glass before sliding it down the counter for a refill.

England froze when he saw America. America looked in his direction, and their eyes met. America didn't look away from England as the glass slid back down the counter to him. America picked it up with his hand and drained it, still not looking away from England.

England walked over and sat in the empty seat next to America. Their eye contact had broken as he started walking over, America turning back towards the counter to slide his glass for a fifteenth refill. The glass slid back to him a moment later, refilled again.

The bartender walked over to America.

"You do have a ride home, right?" She asked. "You can't drive like that. . ."

"I can walk," America said, slurring slightly. "I walked here, I can walk back."

"I'm not sure that's how it works. . ." the woman said, unsure. America drained the glass once again.

America waved it off. "That's totally how it works." He handed her his cup, and she left hesitantly to refill his cup (after asking England what he wanted).

The two nations sat next to each other, but they didn't talk. The silence between them was getting unbearable.

"I was just thinking about you," America mumbled as his glass was slid back to him.

England's head shot up. "You were?" He asked as a glass was slid into his hand.

"Of course," America said.

England looked at America. America had dark bags under his eyes, his hair was a complete mess, his eyes were slightly red, and he was slouching over the counter as he drained another glass and slid it down the counter again.

"Are you okay?" England asked, before mentally cursing himself for asking such a dumb question. Of course he wasn't.

"No," America replied tiredly. "Not at all."

There was a short silence before America asked a sudden question.

"Do you love someone?"

England looked at America, who didn't look back at him as he drained another glass.

"Why are you asking?" England asked, avoiding the question.

"I just hope you're not alone," America muttered. "You know, since I left. . ."

"No," England answered. "No, I have not loved anyone else. Sorry. Every place I go reminds me of you."

America looked up now at England.

"You haven't loved anyone else?" America asked. "You mean anyone other than myself?"

England swallowed. "Yes, that is what I mean."

America looked down at his now refilled glass before draining this one too.

"Do you still love me?" America asked.

". . .Yes," England admitted quietly.

"As a brother?" America said. "Or. . ."

"Let's go with the 'or'," England said, closing his eyes, not wanting to see how America would react, fearing the worst.

The next moment, a pair of lips pressed against his own. England's eyes fluttered open as he froze in shock, before closing them again and kissing back. England could taste and smell the alcohol on America's lips.

America pulled back a few moments later, just in time to catch his refilled glass and drain it.

"How many glasses have you had?" England asked.

"Uh. . ." America said. "I lost track. . ." he looked to the bartender.

"Thirty seven," she informed England.

"What?!" England asked, wide eyed.

"Sounds about right," America replied.

"How have you not passed out?" England asked.

America shrugged, sliding the glass down the counter again.

"You probably shouldn't drink any more," England advised. "The hangover you're going to get is going to be terrible."

America sighed. "Okay. . ."

The bartender stopped refilling it and instead started cleaning the glass.

"By the way," England said, "how much money is this?"

~°~

"Thirty seven glasses?!" England exclaimed later. "Why on Earth -"

England was cut off by a pair of lips once again meeting g his own. The taste and smell of alcohol had went away for the most part. England kissed back immediately this time.

America pulled back a few moments later.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you," America said, closing his eyes and tilting his head down. "Of how I left you. . . You were crying. . . And I just left you there-" America couldn't continue as he burst into tears. England wrapped his arms around the taller nation and pulled him into a comforting hug. After a few minutes, America's tears subsided, and England pulled away a bit.

"America," England said. "It's okay now. . . I forgive you. . . You need to know that. . . And I love you, America." England pressed his lips to America's gently. He didn't move for a while, then he pulled away.

"I love you too, England," America replied quietly.

"I've missed you," England said. "Since the revolution, we didn't really talk anymore."

"It's okay," America said. "The past is in the past. Let's stuff it in the closet like I do with all the other bad parts in my history."

"What?"

"Nothing."

England gave America a look that clearly stated, I know that you said something, but I didn't understand it. I'm going to let it go, because right now I really just want to kiss you some more.

America read his look perfectly, and the two kissed again, more passionately than any of the previous times.

I used to wonder if it was better now that I was gone, England thought. Now I know that I was only causing us both more pain.

Little did he know, America was thinking the exact same thing.

~°~

America looked out the window at the cloudy skies. The thick clouds blocked the sun, darkening the world. But not America's.

Because now he had his own sunshine.