Rebirthing
England went out the hall, deeply irritated. He couldn't stand his brother always posing as first lady. He thought about those days, when he found him out roaming in a lea, and how much he dreamed he could be his, to bring him up like a part of himself. All of this had disappeared when he met a man, taller than him, bigger, stronger. When America saw he got more possibilities, there started the damages. England sighed. He went out into the garden, he took a deep breath, smelling the spring's scent, asking why does it have to exist four seasons, when it was out of doubt the best. It gave the world a coat of freedom, unknown to the other year's periods.
At his back, suddenly appeared France. He went on his side, without saying a word. England sighed. He just wanted to be alone. He didn't surely need France's company, he wasn't famous for his innate sensibility.
"What do you want?" he asked him. France smiled.
"Why did you leave?"
"It wasn't necessary for me to stay. America reined the situation. And what else can we do, if not wait for his orders?" he answered, sarcastic. France put a hand on his shoulder, but he moved away sharply. The other sighed, blatantly.
"You're too much touchy, you know?" he made him notice. England grinned.
"We can't all have your joie de vivre"
"But you can try. I ensure it helps to live better" he said to him, tenderly. England grimaced.
"It's impossible to live better, France. You're like that just because you're a silly superficial. You can't see what's the meaning of being a nation, what it entails. Look at us: we live since centuries by someone else's will, we do nothing but fight between us. And this is the meaning of our existence: fight for the supremacy on everybody else. Once you were the strongest, now is America and after the was... who knows, it could even be Germany or Russia. How can you tell me that we can be better than this? The only one way you can go on with lightheartedness is blaming God for everything or trying to got impossible alliances... in a less orthodox ways" he added, becoming gloomy as he remembered how the nation had always put pressure on him to get married. "And we can't go on like that. The life you're dreaming about it's like embracing the shadow and running after wind, wanting to follow dreams. It's time for you to face the truth, France" the only one answer he got for his argument, which he was proud of, was a laugh.
"But do you hear your talking, Arthur? All your sentences are full of hate, of envy and melancholy. That's why you criticize my existence, America's one and everybody else's... we don't worry about tomorrow, but just about today, and what we can take from existence. And because of your endless pessimism everybody turned from you. Look at America. Ok, he's an idiot, but he just did the only one choice which seemed good to him: turn away from you. And it's the way that sooner or later everybody will choose to follow."
"Oh, really? And let's listen, you are preaching so good, what have you got more than me if not defeats and a profligate life?" he said ironically. France smiles, closing his eyes. He turned his face toward the sun, enjoying its warmth.
"I'm happy. And it's the best thing you can desire. And I am because I create chances for myself... because, like you just said, I go on trying to make alliances. But at the end, isn't this what we are supposed to do? Try to fit in on everybody, and if we can't, well, at least we did something concrete" he looked back at him, with an expression more serious than usual "Remember Arthus: be alone, and you'll be anybody. Never".
"I tried not to be alone. I made those alliances that you keep on magnify. And what did I get, but delusions?" he answered, bitterly. France laughed one more time.
"Only cowards surrender after the first failures, my friend" he stated.
The silence fell between them. They gazed the horizon, intent. France was just contemplating the landscape, happy about what he was looking at. England was reflecting. I would never admit it, but maybe France was right. After the first tries, he stopped looking for other nations to share his life, his struggles, his own home, where the emptiness echoed unfriendly, with. It was true, he surrendered, after centuries of power and fierceness. He turned into the copy of what he was been once. He demanded if, with time, he could accept that situation, and trying to re-emerge. He turned toward the other nation, finally smiling.
"Do we go back inside?" he asked him. The other smiled back.
"What, did you finally decided to throw a spanner in the works of America?" he said, sly.
"Let's say that I'd like to make him notice that he's not a superhero" he denied, grinning. France patted his shoulder, and then they went back inside.
"Ah! My child is becoming a man! These are satisfactions!" France joked him. England offended, but he didn't get far.
"Yes, like is because of you" he grumbled. The other laughed.
"Isn't it?"
"You're not happy if you don't think that every good thing that happen is because of you" he stated.
"I'm nice and fascinating. I'm lighthearted. And I'm powerful too. I can't see why it doesn't have to be like that"
"Of course. Let's fight our wars with a huge ego. Sooner or later we have to try it" Arthur answered. They both smiled. Meanwhile, the came behind the door which separate them from the others.
"So... who's got the honor to ruin America's plans?" France asked, with scenographic tone. England smiled, malicious, and he went in steady.
Maybe for the first time since years, he could pretend he was the one who lead.
And that way, going out from the glass bell he built around, he would be alone never again.