A/N: Hey everybody I am currently writing two stories I believe (one being this). This one deals with mental disorders and an asylum. I do not know much of what would happen in real life situations. Remember, this is a work of fiction please excuse any flaws in writings.
Title: The Sanity in Love
Summary: No one deserved to be there. It was built specifically for countries. It was called The National Crisis and Instability Asylum, or the NCIA for short. We were sent there as countries, and brought up as monsters. We stuck together, and look where it got us. Here. USUK, Mental Instability, (Other countries and pairings included)
Story will be in different point of views: Ex. Americas POV
Everyone knew it would happen. It was to happen sooner or later, and everyone knew it. The wars, deaths, relations, alliances, and treaties; they were all too much for countries to handle. Every one of them was too much to put on the shoulders of a single being. Of course, they were not human. No, not at all, they were immortal. Humans would wish for immortality, but it is a curse for those select few who have it. Each one of them knew it by now, but now was too late.
The Asylum was built long ago (since everyone had predicted the possibilities of the future). It was the strongest, the biggest, and the hardest asylum to get out of. It was built specifically for countries. It was called The National Crisis and Instability Asylum, or the NCIA for short. The NCIA had yet to have its first patient, but all of that would come soon enough. It would be coming sooner than many thought.
England's Point Of View
United States of America, National Meeting of Countries.
It all started out at a meeting. Of course, America was being his obnoxious self as always. I felt a bit tired, and I had the most awful headache. I am The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. Many call me Great Britain or England for short. I am currently in between the two most annoying countries on the planet, France and America. I was perfectly fine, but then the bloody French frog had to bring up food.
America was currently occupied with reading a comic book about his super heroes, when the frog stood at the time of his turn to speak. America, being the type of person he is, practically jumped out of his seat when he heard the topic. They started to fight about whose food was the best. Of course they were both wrong. It was neither French cuisine, nor American classics that were better. British delights were the way to go in the argument, or at least that is what I thought. So now I find myself in the middle of the fight.
"Angletarre, you must be mistaken. My food is the best of course!" France said. I practically lost my breath laughing at him and rolled my eyes. Everything in his country was the best to France. He always thought he had the best clothes, food, and whatever you could practically think of. I did not see any reason to agree with him. Then came America's opinion.
"Dudes, McDonalds is like the best!" He shouted. I shook my head at the overly excited American and looked to the other side of the room; out the window. I blinked a couple times as I felt a stronger wave of headache pain come across myself. I could see America looking at me, and was he speaking?
"A-America." I managed to say before everything went black.
America's point of view
How could they not know McDonalds was the best! If not McDonalds, then burgers in general were awesome. I looked over to England to make my point when I noticed the look on his face. He didn't look too well. Maybe it was the swaying of said country, or the fact he whispered my name that made me act, but I was now standing in the middle of a meeting with an unconscious England in my arms. Everyone was staring at me. I blinked and looked down at England. A small blush came across my cheeks.
England was beautiful when he slept. I knew he was unconscious, and that I should probably get him back to my house but I stood still for a moment to admire him. I had caught glimpses of England slipping off into sleep during meetings before, and each time had the same effect on me. I didn't really understand it, but I knew it felt good to see him so calm. Not a strange, perverted good, but a happy, peaceful good.
I shook my head to get out of my thoughts, and laid England in my seat. I took off my bomber jacket and put it on the smaller country for warmth. France sighed and helped me put the jacket on England. I nodded as a thank you and picked England up again. England's head fell to the side so that it was pressed up against my chest. I smiled softly and walked to my car. I carefully opened the back seat and laid England on the seat.
"There we go." I said as I proceeded to get into the driver's seat and start my short drive home. At least we were in America. If we were anywhere else, I wouldn't know what to do for England. I took my time driving home and got there in less than ten minutes.
My house was not that big. It was light blue with two floors. England had been here once before, but that was a long time ago. I doubt he will even remember anything about my house. I picked him up and brought him into my house. He will be wanting tea when he wakes up, I know that much. I laid him down on the couch in the living room and went to the kitchen.
Narrator point of view
England was laying on the couch still unconscious. America was in the kitchen making tea for the nation. It was getting late, and America could tell a thunder storm was coming. He knew from past encounters England hated storms. America thought the idea a bit stupid. England was, after all, England. He usually went weeks with non-stop rain, but even if that was true, England would hide under his unicorn blanket when there was thunder. Problem was they were in America, and England did not bring his blanket everywhere.
"England? Artie?" America asked as he walked over and patted the Brit on the arm softly. England stirred and sighed in his sleep. America smiled and sat the teacup full of tea down on the coffee table. He looked back at England.
"You must've been tired, hm?" America asked himself more than he did England. America chuckled and rubbed small circles in England's arm with his thumb. America sighed and looked around for something to do. He supposed he could clean up a bit and save England some trouble when he woke up. America remembered how obsessed England was when it came to clean living spaces. The Brit would clean till everything was sparkling. America chuckled again and set to his work.
Hours passed and England had not woken up yet. America was sitting on the floor next to England watching the latest episode of Doctor Who. England loved this show, but it kind of confused America. He found a bit of interest in it with some episodes.
"Don't blink, Alfred!" America said to himself as he continued to watch the episode. (First person who can guess what episode I am talking about in Doctor Who and what America was saying not to blink out will get a shout out in the next chappie!) England stirred again and slowly opened his eyes. America looked at England and smiled.
"America?" England asked as he blinked a couple times to adjust his eyes. He looked around for a moment. They weren't in his house. They must have been in America's house. America nodded at England and watched as the Brit looked around.
"We are in my house, Artie." America said.
"My name is Arthur, and even so why not England?" England asked. America shrugged and looked back at the television before turning it off.
"I like using our human names I guess." America said as he went over to a closet and pulled out a blanket.
"Cold?" America asked England. England nodded and shivered a bit. America smiled with a sigh and walked over to the couch England was laying on. England sat up slowly feeling a bit dizzy from the recent events.
"Calm down Arthur. Take it slow, okay?" America said as he sat next to England and gave him the blanket. England nodded slowly and wrapped the blanket around himself. America looked around in thought.
"What's wrong, Alfred?" England asked with a smile. America smiled and looked out the window.
"I know you won't like this, but there is a storm coming." America said just as a loud clap of thunder sounded. England blinked and shook his head no.
"No. No!" England said as he hid under the blanket. America looked at England suspiciously.
"Arthur?" America asked as he tried pulling on the blanket. America had no idea what was going on, but whatever it was it wasn't good. England was shaking and terrified. There were two reasons he did not like storms. He had a secret, but he couldn't tell anyone. He knew what would happen if he did. It was too soon, and he would not be the first one admitted. No, he would most certainly not be the first one.
"I'm not scared!" England shouted. America blinked.
"England, I never asked if you were sc-" America was cut off.
"No, stop right now!" England shouted again. America was greatly confused.
"England what are you talking about?" America asked. England uncovered his head.
"I need t-time alone." England said as he got up quickly and ran to the assumed guest bedroom. The voices wouldn't stop. He couldn't control them anymore. England locked the door and sat in the corner. He looked around the room as if he were surrounded.
"N-No I won't h-hurt him. No I haven't hurt myself recently, what do you mean?" England started to talk. America was on the other side of the door by now. His ear was pressed to the door. He could barely make out the sound of England's voice, but it was there.
England's point of view
'You are scared aren't you, Arthur? The storm will haunt you.' The voice said. I shook my head. I was not scared and I made a point to announce it rather loudly in front of America.
'Arthur, poor little Arthur. Can you hear me? Why don't you kill yourself to save you from the storm?' The voice spoke again. I screamed no at the voice and ran to what I assumed was the guest room after telling America I needed to be alone. I locked the door and sat in a corner looking around for the source of the voice.
'Have you hurt yourself Arthur? I know you like it. You should hurt America.' The voice started to get louder. I shook violently and closed my eyes to try to block the voice out. Of course it didn't work. I answered it and covered myself with the blanket again. I knew my schizophrenia (A mental disorder making it hard to focus and tell the real from unreal. People usually experience hallucinations and voices telling them to do something.) was there, but it had gradually gotten worse. I was a prisoner of voices and hallucinations. Nothing could help me now. I was not going to the asylum either. I will keep this a secret. I will.
A/N: SO, how was the first chappie? I'm so proud of this so far. I think it will turn out to be a really good story. For more info on schizophrenia look it up on Google and there is a whole bunch about it. The definition I gave was a simple one that summed it up.