Chapter Text
The sounds of footsteps and crying were all that he could hear. A child sat on his bed crying for someone, but for who? Not even he knew, and all that he could do was cry. The room that he was in was small, fitting only a bed his size, a small trunk with some dirty white shirts and shorts, and a chest of broken and dirty toys.
He had no clue where he was, or even who he was. He felt scared in this place, there was no one here with him; he was alone in the big empty house. Sometimes though, he thought someone was there, he could hear footsteps and laughter, sometimes he heard crying too.
He cuddled one of the broken soft toys to his chest, it was a worn bunny that was missing an ear and had some patches sewn on it, but he didn't care, he loved the little toy for being there with him, for being his only friend and his protector against the harsh sounds of the storms outside.
The little boy wiped his eyes before opening them, showing off his soft baby blues to the darkness of the room his was in. his face was tear stained and dirty, just like the rest of the things in the big house. The poor child was scared and there was no one there for him.
There was a loud crash that came from downstairs suddenly, making the boy jump. Then the sounds of footsteps running throughout the house could be heard. He sat in his room though; he saw no point in checking. Many times the sounds of rushing could be heard in the house but no one was there, just the sounds themselves.
“America! Alfred! Where are you! Please answer me!” A male voice shouted, the boy curled on the bed with stuffed toy and whimpered; the voice was back. Sometimes the voice would call out for someone; the person sounded so scared sometimes, he would always call for the other person, yelling out their names, sounding like he was going to cry.
The little boy was tired, he was always tired when the voice was there calling for the lost person. He heard the sounds of the footsteps running upstairs, still calling, and still searching. The little boy tried to help, he would sometimes go looking for this missing person when the voice came, but he never found them.
As the boy closed his eyes, the door to his room opened, and for a moment the child thought that he could see another person standing on the other side of that door; it was man, with short blond hair and the greenest eyes the child had ever seen. Those green eyes were wide with shock, but the child just closed his eyes and drifted off to a dreamless sleep. Because he knew, there was no one else in that house but him; no one was there to hear him cry.
The man stared opening at the child; the likeness that he shared with Alfred was overwhelming to say the least. He took a step into the room, only to groan out in pain, clutching his chest. He had to hurry; there was no time to waste if he wanted to do this.
Slowly, as not to wake the poor child, he picked up the boy off the horrid little bed he was sleeping on. He gently cradled the boy in his arms, before taking a wand out of his back pocket. He whispered words of ancient tongues, which only very few would ever understand their meaning.
A soft glow surrounded him and boy as he continued the words. The glow grew brighter by the second, until there was a bright flash of pure white light and a loud popping sound. When the light died down, there was no one there. The room and house were empty once more, with only the sounds of the rain outside pelting against the lone window.
Two weeks had gone by and the child had not woken up. England was worried that maybe he had done something to affect the boy in some way. He kept thinking back on how he had found the child sized America in that awful house, devoid of all life it was, everything was void of color and happiness in his eyes.
England sighed and looked down at the sleeping child, petting his head gently, feeling the softness of America’s blond hair. He couldn't understand how the boy managed to go to a place like that, a place where no one could reach him, where he was closed off in a world void of life, leaving him to be alone for so long.
“Please wake up Alfred; please open your eyes for me.” England softly spoken, he was still scared that he would lose the child again, that he had been too late and America had already crossed the bonds of life and gone to sleep for good. The child stirred slightly, making a noise that almost sounded like a whimper to the Brit’s ears. However he did not wake up.
England smiled sadly and got up off the bed. He knew he had work to do, but l he couldn't stand the thought of being away from the small child that was sleeping for too long. He didn't want America to wake up and find no one there to greet him, to think that he was still all alone.
Walking out of the room, England made his way downstairs and to the kitchen. He made himself a cup of tea to try and relax, but he just couldn't He sighed once again went to his office upstairs to grab some papers he needed to go through and sign. He then went to the room where America was sleeping in and sat in the nearby chair.
Seeing on how the boy didn't seem close to waking up. ‘Tomorrow will be another day, and hopefully America would finally wake up from his deep sleep.’ He thought to himself.