(y/n) panted as he ran through the house. For once he was scared of the one he loved. He ran into a closet hoping America wouldn't find him. It seemed God wasn't on his side. America pulled him out of the closet and grinned at him. "Hello babe."
America's vision went red as he began to hit (y/n) with his bat. When the red left his vision America realized what he had done. (y/n)'s (h/c) was matted with blood. The blood was still coming from a crack in his skull. "What have I done?"
America stood in front of (y/n)'s grave. It had been five years since America had killed him. Although some of the other 2ps tried to make him feel better it didn't help. (y/n) was gone and no one could change that fact.
"Excuse me sir are you alright?" America looked to his right and saw a young boy with (h/c) and (e/c) eyes. He couldn't have been older than five. "I'm fine," Alfred said. "Then why are you crying?" the boy asked. America blinked and for the first time noticed the tears going down his face. "My name is (y/n). What's your's?" America smiled. "Al." "Well it was nice to meet you Mr. Al!" (y/n) exclaimed happily before running off.
"Good-bye, (y/n)," America whispered with a smile on his face.