"Hello Sir. Can I take your order?"

Can you stay with me forever? "I'll take a cup of coffee with exactly two lumps of sugar."

As he was scribbling something in his little pad [my order, I presume], I silently gazed at him. His messy, sandy-blond hair. I struggled not to laugh at the sight of that familiar little hair strand that refused to obey the laws of gravity. His strong, muscular arms, showing through his assigned uniform. I could imagine how it would feel if I was in his embrace, protected from all that could hurt me.

"Is there anything else you'd wanted?" He looked up at me, his sky-blue eyes locking with mine. I quickly turned my head away and stammered, "It's 'Is there anything else you would like', you git. Use correct English. Don't ruin the Queen's English with your horrible grammar and lack of politeness. And no, that's all I will have today."

I was expecting him to comment about my obvious rudeness and stomp away, refusing any service from me. I actually wished for that, deep down inside. It would have saved me so much inner turmoil.

However, he gave me a teasing grin. "At least I'm not the one with caterpillars that died on my face." I swore I saw him suppressing laughter.

It took so much of my self control to not smile at his... American-like answer. "How dare you say that! They are not caterpillars, but my eyebrows, you bloody wanker!

He just brushed my reply away, laughing it off. He turned around to leave, but turned back to give me a playful wink. "At least you have a sexy accent going there." Satisfied with my tomato-red face, he hurried into the kitchen, most likely to get my order.

I continued to watch him until he disappeared behind the kitchen doors. I let out my breath and sat more comfortably [but properly] in my chair.

God, what is wrong with me? I've turned into one of those stalkers!

He was suddenly by my side, grinning ear to ear. "Here's your order."

"I'm impressed that you fixed up my order so quickly Alfred."

He gave me a suggestive smile. "Well, you are a valuable customer, " he replied before attending the other tables.

What does he mean by that? Is something I would have thought many years ago. But since Alfred's the human version of America, I knew exactly the double meaning he was hinting to.

I looked under my coaster and, as I expected, I found a quickly scribbled note.

Wanna meet me McDonalds on L'arc street?

6:00 PM Tuesday

XXX-XXX-XXXX

I smiled at the offer. How typical, even more so with the meeting place he suggested. I took a sip from my cup and grimaced.

Coffee. How bittersweet.

I carefully placed the cup back onto the table and stared at the dark, swirling liquid.

I remember how America and I fought endlessly, debating whether tea or coffee was better. I always refused to take even a drop of coffee, even when we were dating.

But when. . . he left, I began to drink coffee at least once a day to understand why he liked the blasted beverage so much. Oh, the irony that played as I took my first sip and cried.

Coffee became an important part of my life. It gave me the energy to live each day to the fullest, just as it gave America a huge boost to be the Hero 24/7. It was like coffee contained a bit of America's personality, how it warmed me when I was cold and sad.

It was a good substitute, but I guess it was only fated to last a limited time.

Then, Canada came to me one day. Although he said it hesitantly, he told me how he found someone like America, but in human form.

I blew up. "Canada! I know that you miss your brother, but finding someone to fill the void is wrong!"

"England!" he yelled, startling me,"It was by coincidence, but I really think it's America. I talked to him and he has the same hero-obsessed, obnoxious personality."

"Lies. So what if he has that kind of personality. There must be a bunch of refugees from America that act like him."

Canada looked like he was going to rip out his hair. "You don't get it!" He pulled out a picture and handed it to me, waiting for my reactions.

I hyperventilated, seeing the likeness of Alfred and my America. The same hair, the confident grin, his "heroic" pose, his sky-blue eyes, . . . everything. It was like he came back to me.

"If you want to see him, he works at the Starstuck cafe on Maple street. It's your choice if you want to meet him."

I almost didn't notice the door closing as he left the room. I was too busy gaping at the resemblance.

Does that mean. . . I get another chance? That hopeful though kept repeating itself in my mind. The next day, I finished all my required work in lightning speed and raced towards the cafe.

After a week, he started a conversation with me. And with every day we talked, it made me feel like I was conversing with my America, like in the old days. But the more he talked about his life, his friends, school, the more I realized he really is human. Alfred is neither America nor someone who could live as long as me. That very thought once again pierced my heart.

I finished my coffee, quickly locking away any regret I might have. I hastily wrote a note and slipped it under his tip.

Stepping out into the near freezing weather, I was grateful to see there was no one around me. That way, I can let my emotions run freely.

Dear Alfred,

I'm sorry, but I have to leave tonight to catch my plane to England. Perhaps I will never see you again.

You'll always be on my mind.

Arthur 'Britannia' Kirkland.

Iggy

A/N Darn it! I just had to type out this story or else my mind wouldn't let me continue studying for finals. So, sorry for my lack of beta-ing, but I really need to start studying. So, this story is dedicated to this amazing fic called "Second Chance" by ArixaBell. It is an amazing story and I can't wait for more updates. So, for explanation time:

Canada meets Alfred and gets to know him, realizing how similar Alfred and America are. Convinced of the connection, he tells England about it. Keep in mind that Alfred has no idea of the existence of nations and what not.

So, anyway, I hope you like my story. Please R&R and all that stuff.