Hetalia x Reader Songfics

Fake Your Death - America

Fake Your Death

*warning: PTSD and mentions of death*

Some people watch,

Some people pray,

But even lights can fade away,

Some people hope,

Some people pray,

But why'd we have to stay?

It had been a year an a half since Alfred had been deployed.

He had told her only after their wedding that he had enlisted and would be heading overseas in about a month. She had refused to believe it of course, saying that it was too soon for him to be leaving. But one month later, he was gone.

A year and a half later, (Y/N) Jones paced the hallway of their home, waiting. You see, Alfred had gotten seriously hurt during a mission, so he was being sent home and was due to be arriving today.

She heard footsteps on the porch and her head snapped in that direction. (Y/N) let out a small gasp when she saw the familiar strand of gravity-defying blond hair that he was always so self conscious of.

(Y/N) ripped open the front door and stood there, hardly believing the sight before her eyes. There stood Alfred F. Jones. A red-stained bandage was wrapped around his head and crutches were buried under his arms. His glasses stood askew on his face and one of the lenses was cracked.

But despite all that he was smiling.

'Cause even heroes

Get the blues,

Or any misery you choose,

You like to watch,

We like to use,

And we were born to lose.

(Y/N) was woken by the thrashing of limbs and the twisting of sheets. This had become a normal occurrence. Ever since Alfred had returned home six months ago, his sleep had been plagued with horrible nightmares.

Her husband had watched too many men die. However, when he relived these experiences, instead of seeing troops die, he saw his friends.

Tonight it was Arthur. Alfred's blond, bushy-eyebrowed brother was often rude, despite claiming to be a gentleman. But Alfred loved him any way.

Alfred shot straight, still screaming as Arthur's name died on his lips. He stiffened when (Y/N) placed his hand on his, but relaxed when he realized who's touch it was.

He let out a small sob and buried his face in the crook of her neck. "I'm sorry," he whispered, "I'm sorry for keeping you up every night. I'm sorry for burdening you with my problems." The volume of his voice grew until he was screaming, "I'm sorry I ever signed up for the damn military in the first place!"

I choose defeat,

I walk away,

And leave this place,

The same today,

Some like to sleep,

We like to play,

Just look at all that pain.

The next morning when Alfred awoke, the spot next to him in bed was vacant. He sat up, panicked. She wouldn't leave him! Would she?

He heard the sound of something sizzling on the stove and he got up cautiously, tiptoeing down the stairs to where the kitchen was.

Standing in front of the stove was his gorgeous wife, (Y/N). She was playing her favorite song from the speakers he had installed a few months ago and swaying her hips to the beat.