Hi everyone! I really don't write enough, and while I lurk the site I hardly publish anything. _ It's about time I submit something, and see if my writing is at least SOMEWHAT decent, or has improved over the past years. I absolutely LOVE USUK and I'm gonna try to write their angsty history out! I hope you like my take on it! (Even though it changes every day). It might be inaccurate or not cover everything, but I'm trying my best!

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or any of the characters.

BTW, this is supposed to have a sad undertone to it. Tell me if it works, kay?

England's POV:

I know exactly where I went wrong with you.

Well, perhaps that phrase should be taken more lightly. I cannot pinpoint exactly where I went wrong with you, or when what I had known had changed; I can only admit to discovering my mistake when it was too late, when you were out of my grasp.

It's funny how life has a way of throwing things back at you; in my younger days I was ruthless and apathetic to everyone around me; I had learned the hard way that to survive in this world, you must live under the basic conduct of kill or be killed. Conquer or be conquered.

Please do not misunderstand me. If I had known that my past would catch up to me and affect you, I would have taken greater care in raising you. But the problem is that my past is a part of me; the way I was raised affects the way I act, and the way I act at times cannot always be…explained, even to I.

I know you're thinking of my 'atrocities' during your little revolution, or even my pirate days (I regret the day you ever found out about those, despite the light that would flash behind your eyes in delight as I told those stories to you late at night, in hopes to inspire you; little did you know that they were bent backwards, they were painfully biased and even mended a little to not sound quite so gruesome, or show you how disgusting I really was), but I must assure you that they go further back beyond that. Please, forgive my sins a little, and look over my crimes to hear me out.

I was never raised as a child. My brothers hated me, going as far as sending me curses in the mail to display their emotions. Even though I was young, I had taken it in stride. I refused to show how those little acts had hurt me, and I hardened myself to the world. Soon I had come to hate them as well. I was naïve back then; loud, bratty, and always demanded what I wanted, even at a young age, regardless of others. I was hot headed, something I had picked up upon from my brothers. Perhaps this is why I can understand the way you act sometimes, because I can see myself in you. Please do not think that when I lecture you, I am lecturing you personally; more like I want to fix the mistakes before you make them. Believe it or not, but we were almost….similar. I will cherish this hidden fact to myself.

I was always alone, even that disgusting frog face France, the self-proclaimed 'Big Brother' was anything but the sort, and did not to ease the isolation or company that I desired (not that I wanted his). His and my rivalry date back to the 1000's, and that accursed date 1066. But I do not wish to think about that day in history, the only thing I have to say is that I became…much more demanding and angry after that.

Like any other nation, I've had my experience of civil war. It's crippling and painful, rather scary in itself, but I do not deny that one becomes older and more psychologically mature after that; however, obviously I was not mature enough to handle you, or even myself correctly. It was soon after around this time that I discovered my intense appreciation for sailing, or piracy, to be more specific.

To say that I bullied Spain would be an understatement. I…I had a sick hobby of constantly picking on him, destroying him, and breaking him down mentally. I was merciless; in fact, I would sometimes even encourage war between us, saying little things just to antagonize him, or smirking at him as we passed by in world meetings (which was mainly European countries. To us, we were the world). I enjoyed that effect I had on people, spurring fear wherever I went. Even hatred did not bother me; it was directed at me all the time, and sometimes I reveled in it. I didn't need people. I didn't need friendship, or anything false inbetween. I only needed myself. I felt powerful. I was untouchable. Anything I wanted could be mine. It was around here I began to build my empire.

We had heard of the New World from Spain. Apparently, the Spanish were looking for a city of gold they heard about. Naturally, I wanted to search for it as well. For 'God, Glory, and Gold' I think Spain called it, and I don't deny that I rather agreed with that motto. I wanted to expand my empire, to control more parts of the world, establish my importance with everyone. I'd rub France's face into it. If I could, I'd go to a million wars with France, just so I could win a million times. Victory is sweet. Especially when against France. Then it's sweeter than his disgusting food he calls 'dessert'. How anyone can eat that without grimacing is beyond me. But I digress.

When I set sail to the New World, I could quite literally feel that France was close by. I could see him smirking across the channel, and the competitiveness in me would do anything just to wipe that ugly look off his face. It was a race. For the better empire, the better country, for the better man.

I don't know who got there first, but relations were tense between us; as always, if not tenser. We both wanted to bring the so-called 'riches' back home. I was hell bent on looking for that gold, and I daresay France was as well. We held a cordial agreement to alert the other if we found anything. But if that agreement would be kept, I wouldn't know.

In fact, we were both distracted by an update from Finland. I had forgotten that he was in the area too. He told us he discovered a little boy roaming the area unprotected, and was fearful the Netherlands would get him. I had always liked Finland. He was naturally caring towards others, and always seemed to want the best for others, without being greedy. However, I hadn't thought this at the time, it's only something I can appreciate now. Sometimes I wonder if Finland would have been the appropriate mentor over you. It pains me to think that he would have been the best choice amoung the three of us. I don't like to think about it.

Finland took France and I to where you were (I wonder how you two met. Why didn't you attach yourself to him?). When I saw you, I knew right away that I wanted you. I admit, that I did not think of you when I saw you, I only thought of my competition with France, and how I wanted to spite him by winning this. Finland had left at this point, and I can't say I actually cared. The only thing I could think of was winning, and being triumphant over France.

You know how that day went.

It wasn't until I finally owned you, did it cross my mind what I was going to do with you. You looked at me expectantly with those beautiful bright blue eyes of yours, already calling me 'Brother' affectionately. I think it was then you had cracked something deep within me. My knees had felt weak, and suddenly everything I knew was lost to me. You hardly knew who I was, or what I stood for. You had no idea what my intentions were, yet you already trusted me. My face felt hot, and my stomach flopped. What was this feeling? I had never felt it before. It felt overwhelming and dizzy, yet light at the same time. I managed to mumble, "No need to be so formal. You may call me England."

I was awkward with you back then, this was obvious to even me. I had no idea how to handle you; you were just a child. I had never dealt with children before. Were you going to turn on me? I had felt this betrayal several times in the past, so I was quite familiar with the feeling. I was wary of you, hesitant, wondering if I'd need to use force to control you.

(But I never did, at least, not until the very end)

Your burning innocence left me speechless at times. You trusted me, and broke down all my barriers I set up to protect myself from others. I looked forward to seeing you, loving the feeling of you jumping into my arms when I visited you. I could hear as well as see the open adoration you had of me in your eyes and your voice. No one had ever spoken to me like that before; I've never had this relationship with anyone. It was tender, it was gentle, and it was warm.

(Why did it go by so fast?)

I cherished these days the most. After long, stressful times in Europe, I would often come to you to escape it all (Europeans disgusted me; I always had to be suspicious of their hidden intent. They were never open with their feelings like you were). When you were scared, I would hold you in my arms and murmur comforting words to you, as I dried your tears. At night, I would kiss your forehead before you went to sleep. When you were cold, I'd hold your small trembling body closer to me to keep you warm, and pull the blanket over us both. You'd snuggle closer to me, burying your head into my chest, your hair tickling my face. And I would whisper to you, no, promise you, that I would always protect you, that you had nothing to be afraid of, because I'd always be there to fight off the monsters. And when you drifted off to sleep, I allowed myself to bring down my last barrier, and breath into your sleeping form,

I love you.

I never thought I could be so happy.

When I had to go, the distressed look on your face would break my heart. You'd cry, beg, and plead for me not to leave you. You melted my heart. I always dreaded leaving you; you were my sunshine. And that heartbroken look that took over your features would make me want to cry with you. But no, I had to keep myself together, because if I lost it, I don't know if I'd get it back. I kept a strong face around so you'd look up to me with your adoring blue eyes that I've come to love.

"I have to go," I murmured softly into you ear as I held you close. A sob escaped from you, and you pressed yourself against me; I could feel your tears staining my clothes. You trembled softly.

"P-please don't. Don't leave me." You begged, your tiny hands clamping around my sleeve. I pried them gently from my sleeve and kissed your forehead. I held your tiny face in my hands, and rested my forehead against yours.

"I'll come back. Please be strong—for me."

You whimpered, and I gave you one last, tight hug before I departed. I waved to you from the ship, feeling like my face would crack from the sadness, forcing myself to smile for you. I knew I'd be back, but I didn't know when.

This pattern continued for decades after.

You grew up quickly, must faster than I would have liked. I'd come back to see you, and you'd sprung up from my knees, to my hips, to my chest. I often despaired over this to myself; how much more childhood would I be missing out on? Somehow I knew I was letting you down, whether you realized it or not. Perhaps you've been alone for so long you wouldn't know anyway. I wish you were closer to me, so my visits wouldn't be so infrequent. The one thing I can say about Europe is that we're all packed in close to one another; our neighbors aren't far away. This is a blessing, and also a curse. How I wish I could just move my nation closer to you, away from these fools. I'd rather spend a day with you than a lifetime with them.

Conflicts over your land had been stirring between France and I since 1689. That damn frog can't help but stuff his nose in my business, can he? Our conflicting interests could have been the death of us, yet it never escalated that far. It was more of a chess game that expanded for centuries. You were a part of it—you would know.

(I know you resented this at one point or another.)

I never wanted you to be a part of that war; the so-called 'French and Indian' war. You were eager to defend your land, eager to fight; in fact you were so enthusiastic about the idea of raising an army I couldn't help but grow suspicious of you. I was harsh and firm at that time; I remember repeatedly telling you no over and over again. I was anxious—worried that you'd developed thoughts of leaving me. Thinking of this made me angry and terrified. I was determined to undertake this war on alone. I wanted to protect you, keep you away from all the harm and hurts of war, to preserve your innocence and faith in me. But you never faltered; you settled on joining this war and finally I grew exasperated enough to finally let you join in. There are no words to describe my terror of having you out there on the battlefield.

I kept you close to me at all times. And when you weren't with me, you were hiding somewhere safe while I took care of the enemy. This satisfied you for a time, until you wanted in. You wanted to take part in this directly. I nearly tore my hair out at this; why couldn't you be satisfied? Who was ever excited about taking part in war? But I was much older than you and much more tired; I nearly forgot my younger days of eager animosity. Hesitantly, I allowed you to join the front lines with me. To my surprise, you did quite well. I spent less time fretting over you, and more time concentrating on that bloody frog.

(But all it takes is a minute for things to change.)

When the bloody opposition finally left, I was panting for breath. I had been relishing in that feeling—the feeling of victory, of winning something. I was still running on adrenaline and I was grinning like a mad fool. It took me a while before I finally looked around for you. I scanned the area, dread starting to set in as I couldn't find you. I began calling your name nervously, moving from place to place, growing more and more anxious as I looked around.

(Bodies were everywhere, and I could see your face on every one of them.)

You were off in the distance lying on your back, gasping for breath. I don't think I could ever describe the panic I felt as I ran towards you.

"Alfred. Alfred." I began chanting fearfully. I knelt down beside you, growing sick at the amount of blood that seeped through your clothes. I swallowed nervously; I didn't like the ragged breathing that was coming from you.

"A-Arthur." You managed to croak quietly, my eyes flitting towards you in concern. I was absolutely terrified; I've never had anyone close to me injured so badly. I began peeling off your soaked clothes, biting hard on my lip as you cried out in pain when I accidently brushed your wound. You were sliced on your side by those damn savage tomahawks. You began to tremble now, gasping for air. Your fingers twitched restlessly, searching for something to grasp. My eyes burned looking at you—my boy, my sweet child, bleeding away in front of me. I was angry—at the frog, for engaging in this war; you, for pleading so desperately to take part in this war; and most of all, myself, for granting that wish, and not keeping my eyes on you.

I gritted my teeth and lifted you in my arms, trying desperately to ignore the cries of pain that emitted from you as your wounds pulled in different directions.

(You felt so light at the time, almost as if you were going to fade away in my arms.)

Night fell fast that day, and a candle was the only source of light that illuminated our tent. You were laid out on a bed, covered in sheets, sleeping restlessly. Your wounds had been bandaged; I had called for medical assistance immediately. Having rank in my own army reaped some benefits at least. I was seated in a chair next to you, taking care of you as best as I could.

It was intimidating in that tent that night. I had been accustomed to silence, so usually it didn't bother me, but looking at you chased away any bit of comfort I had previously harbored. You were tossing and turning in your sleep, sweat beading at your forehead. I dipped the washcloth back into the cold bucket of water for the hundredth time that night, and placed it on your forehead. Nothing seemed to ease your pain.

I stared at your young boyish face a lot that night. I couldn't help but feel a spout of uncontrollable panic when I noticed how pale your face was. Images flashed across my mind of what happened and what could have happened. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the mental pictures to go away, trying to refocus. I couldn't loose you. Even imaging your cold lifeless body was enough to leave a gaping hole in my chest and make me feel ill. I frowned at how much you've grown while I was away. You were reaching me in height, just a few inches shorter than me, but definitely catching up. Your skin was tan compared to mine, and your body was leaning out around the edges, losing the last traces of childhood. My eyebrows furrowed at the thought; I had completely missed it, hadn't I? I leaned in closer, and sudden desire made me touch your face, cupping the side of it. I brought my head down, brushing it against your forehead and closed my eyes.

"My boy…Why did you have to grow up so fast?" I murmured softy to your hair. I rubbed your cheek with my thumb gingerly, feeling the soft warm smoothness.

A rustle in the tent made me whip my head around to see who was barging in. A glare took over my features to see who it was; I could never spend any alone time with my boy, could I?

"Prussia." I greeted through my teeth, returning my attention back to you. I crouched over you protectively, almost as if I was shielding you from him. My hand found it's way back to your face, stroking it gently.

"So this is where you've been treating that boy, eh?" Prussia growled, taking a look around the tent. He frowned, his usual annoyed expression gracing his features. I ignored him, finding the question unworthy to answer. He walked around the tent, inspecting things as if he owned the goddamn place. I gritted my teeth. Just another fool from Europe.

He approached us from behind, and I felt my body tense automatically. I turned to look at him hard.

He looked over you with an expression of uninterest, and I felt the need to shield you from him rise again.

"Is there something you need?" I asked coldly, leaning over you protectively.

There was a pause, then he replied, "You can't keep him from the world forever."

My expression darkened; I didn't like where this was heading. "He's mine. He belongs to me. He's my colony, and I can do as I please."

Prussia scoffed in cold amusement. "He's gonna want to see the world eventually, and there's nothing you can do to stop it once it happens."

"There's nothing to see in the world. I've already seen it all and there is nothing out there for him. The world is a cold place."

Prussia barked a laugh. "Nothing to see? It's the goddamn world! It sounds strange coming from you, an ex-pirate, the great almighty British Empire, claiming everything you touch." He paused, eyes full of mirth. "You're going to smother him, keeping him locked up like this. You're never going to let him see anything? You're sheltering him, England." He said, expression turning hard again.

"It's not sheltering," I said coldly. "I'm protecting him from vile people, the scum of the world, like you."

Prussia smirked. "He'll begin to question you, you know. He's gonna wonder why he never sees anything but his own borders. He'll want to know what lies beyond them. And you won't be there to stop him when he does."

My gaze turned venomous and I jumped from my chair, fiercely looking Prussia in the face. I snapped, "You've said enough here! Stop uttering such filth in my presence, and get the bloody hell away from us. He's my boy, and he will listen to my orders, and do as I please. You may take your leave now, as your presence was not needed in the first place."

Prussia laughed humorlessly, smirking. I wanted to wipe that look off his face with my fist. "You can't stop it, England. He's growing up."

My hand lashed out and grabbed him by the collar, bringing him closer to my face. "Get. Out." I growled. The bastard didn't even flinch.

A muffled hiss of pain broke the silence. You stirred softly, opening your eyes and blinked wearily. You struggled to sit up, but I released Prussia and immediately sat down in the chair and pushed you down gently. You whimpered softly; you just reopened your wound. I cursed softly under my breath, and leaned close to you, cupping your face in my hands. You were sweating again, and your breathing was labored painfully as you began to panic, feeling that gash reopen. Your eyes glanced around nervously, then squeezed shut as you choked back another silent cry. Your hands trembled as they reached out to touch me, so I leaned closer to your face, close enough to kiss you, and began murmuring soft words of comfort, stroking your face lightly. A few tears dotted the corner of your eyes, and I gently kissed them away, breathing soothing words to you.

I heard a soft 'tsk' from behind me, but ignored it. Footsteps retreated from us, and I've never been more relieved of a nuisance. The flap of the tent rustled, and then paused.

A voice whispered, "You're going to lose him eventually, England. You're going to lose every one of them." And he left.

My body tensed automatically, and I forced myself to relax. I returned my attention back to you fully.

"Who was that?" You questioned softly, looking tired and disoriented.

I looked down at you. Stroking your cheek softly, I murmured, "No one. Go back to sleep." You did so right away, relaxing immediately in my hands. You were exhausted.

When I was sure you were asleep, I held your face and tenderly kissed your forehead and cheeks slowly. I nuzzled my face against yours.

"I love you, Alfred." I murmured quietly. And all was silent.

(But nothing could stop the fear in my beating heart.)

Tensions between us grew directly after.

I couldn't support myself properly after the war; I had run up a huge debt, and expected that you had to help pay the cost of the war. I had protected you, hadn't I? Without my help, the French and their Native Americans would have slaughtered you and our people. This isn't saying that I expect you to pay me for protection, because I would always protect you without hesitation, but I expected you to merely support the cost we had run up together to protect ourselves from the damn frog. So I had declared a few taxes on our people. I was justified, wasn't I?

Besides, I had granted your wish to fight in the war alongside me, so wouldn't that make you even the tiniest bit grateful to me? Even though after that experience, I had secretly decided that you were not fit nor ready for any type of war anytime soon. I would always be there to protect you, so you wouldn't be needed to fight in such dangerous environments. And if that were the case, what was the point of keeping an army of untrained, unskilled colonists in the colonies, anyway? There weren't needed, and they simply costed too much. Should the need ever arise, we'd be prepared next time to collect taxes to support our British troops for protection. It's a win win situation, is it not? All your people have to do is support my troops through simple taxes and funds and you'd be granted protection. It's simple. After the conflict would pass, the taxes would cease.

You were increasingly stubborn around this time. I don't understand, hadn't I been completely lenient of you? You were being spoiled, I had decided. Obviously, I had not kept a good enough eye on you throughout the decades, so my so-called 'restrictions' as you would say, wouldn't feel so severe as I layed them out now.

To say that I hadn't been absolutely furious with you during the 'Boston Tea Party' would have been a lie. You were greatly running on my nerves during this time, and I was absolutely livid with you when I saw you that day on the docks. I had shouted your name out furiously, and I know you heard, because I saw your shocked mischievous face glance at mine, before you ducked away into the crowd.

At first I had try to dismiss your behavior as rebelliousness—it was something I could relate to, couldn't I? But you were young, you obviously did not understand the world like I did, or have seen the scenes as I have. You simply did not know, therefore you couldn't understand. I had spoiled you, and this stubborn act of rebellion had to be stopped. I was doing this for you, yet you couldn't understand that. I had ordered in more troops after that.

When I heard fighting had officially broke out at Lexington and Concord, I knew things were spiraling down fast. I reacted immediately—I would squelsh this act of utter nonsense immediately, before anything more broke out. You needed to be put in your place, and it was long past time I should have done it.

(It would be easy, wouldn't it?)

More than a year later, you had payed me a visit in person. I hadn't been seeing you a lot at that time, and it was only when you came to me I realized just how much I missed you.

A knock on the door. I didn't look up. I was accustomed to the sound. Usually, it was an official or a messenger with news of the empire. I ignored it and continued at my work at my desk.

The door creaked open, and soft footsteps entered gently. I still hadn't looked up. I sat in silence, waiting for whoever it was to state their reason for entry or to leave whatever message on my desk like normal. When neither happened, I looked up.

"Alfred," I said, shocked. I paused in my writing, utterly confused. "What are you doing here?" I managed to ask.

You stood across the room looking almost shy, an unusual look across your normally bright and lively features. But I hadn't seen you in so long I hadn't even thought much of it. You were dressed formally, also odd, standing awkwardly by the door with your hands behind your back. You looked good, I had to admit. Perhaps it's because I hadn't seen you in so long and you weren't already running your mouth off I had thought so affectionately. I had a sudden desire to walk over and embrace you, something I hadn't done in a long time. You were just about my height at this point, you were more or less looking me directly in the eyes. You had managed to sprout another inch.

"Do come in," I said, waving you close as I stood up. You took a few steps closer to me tentatively, so I asked again, "What brings you all the way across the Atlantic?" Had you come to apologize for your stubborn rebelliousness? I wanted to smile then and there, because the thought of you taking responsibilities for your actions and behavior like a true gentleman would made me more than satisfied. I hadn't seen you properly in forever, nor had we talked much recently, so I was more than ready to forgive you for your behavior and move on. I wanted things to go back to the way they use to.

"I decided to see you in person one last time," You said softly, looking away from my eyes. You held your hands behind your back, and your eyes were down casted to the left. You spoke slowly, as if contemplating everything. I wasn't used to this from you.

"What do you mean?" I asked, my eyebrows furrowing together confusedly. "What are you talking about?" The air was getting tense. I waited patiently.

You paused, thinking over something carefully, almost nervously. Your eyes flickered to the other side of the room, as if looking for something to focus on. Then slowly, they made their way up to my face, your blue eyes showing determination softly.

"I'm declaring independence from you."

I felt the air rush out of my lungs, and I felt like someone punched me in the gut. However, I showed nothing, and stood up to full height, staring at you back in the eyes. Your eyes flickered for the briefest amount of time. You seemed almost…fearful. Good.

"What are you talking about," I asked coldly. It sounded more like a statement than an actual question. I could feel my eyes hardening up already, and I could feel my frown take its place. I stared at you, waiting for an answer.

You took a breath. "The colonists no longer wish to remain with the British Empire. My people feel King George III has treated them unjustly, and our natural rights have been denied. That being said, we believe a revolution—"

"Enough!" I barked. I couldn't believe my ears. "I've heard enough of this nonsense! First from the colonists and now you! You been acting completely out of line lately, and I've simply had enough of it!"

Anger flickered behind your eyes. "Out of line? Well perhaps if the British Empire actually cared about the wellbeing of its colonists and listened to their protests, then things wouldn't have to be this way!"

I slammed my hands down on the desk. "Things wouldn't have to be this way if you'd just followed my command! You have no idea what it's like to be an empire, Alfred!"

"Of course I don't! You barely even let me fight my place in the French and Indian war!"

"A place which you didn't belong! I sincerely regret allowing you to fight in that war! I've been far too lenient with you Alfred, and I can already see how much that's going to cost me. I've given you too much freedom."

"You haven't given me enough freedom! How am I supposed to understand when you won't even give me the experience I need to develop my own skills? Is it so bad to raise an army in the colonies so we can protect ourselves?"

"You don't need protection," I growled, leaning on my desk to glare at you. "You've already got me, and that's all you need."

"I don't want you to protect me!" You yelled, throwing your hands up in the air. I was taken aback. "I can protect myself! I don't need you protecting me like a little kid anymore, Arthur!"

"You are just a child," I responded coldly. "You don't know anything about the world or how it works, you've barely been around two centuries."

"Stop treating me like a kid," You said frostily.

"You are my colony, and you will do as I say. You were foolish to think of yourself as anything but. The British Empire will not tolerate—"

You were now at my desk, and this time you slammed your hands down on it. "I am not your colony, and I refuse to be treated as such! Stop treating me like your brother, because I am not."

My blood ran cold. "Don't you dare talk to me like that! You belong to me, Alfred, and once you learn that maybe you'll stop parading around like the insolent brat you are!"

Your blue eyes hardened stonily. I've never seen this expression on you before. You leaned in closer then said, "I don't belong to you anymore, Arthur. And once you learn that, maybe you'll realize that I'm not your little brother anymore, nor was I ever in the first place." And with that, you turned to leave.

"You are a fool!" I hissed. "I won't allow this!"

You turned halfway towards me. "I'm going to win or die trying." You said with such resolve, I almost believed it. You took another step away, then paused. Reaching into your coat, you pulled out a piece of parchment, and tossed it towards me.

"That's a copy of the Declaration. From now on, we're enemies."

I glared at you. "Don't think for a moment you will actually succeed."

But you didn't stop.

And I watched you go.

The following years can only be accurately described as hell for me.

12 pages guys! Almost 6,000 words! Alright, so a dramatic ending, yeah? *laughs shakily* Well, I hope it isn't too dramatic, otherwise it'll just ruin it.

I actually wrote this a few months ago, and it was supposed to cover everything from the beginning to the end of the Revolution, but I just can't do it in one chapter (Well, I haven't exactly tried, but I'm tired of this sitting on my desktop. I want some feedback).

So, I'm gonna try to mix in some APH show stuff, and some actual historical stuff, but whenever I try to research stuff, things just end bad. So if stuff is wrong, please gently point it out to me. ^^

I'd absolutely LOVE it if you guys gave feedback on this! I've worked really hard, and I'd really like to hear what you guys think. Is the emotion okay? Is it too dramatic? Not enough?

Please review~!