Episode 1: I Won't Give In

AN: Gimme a second to explain. Emily Reader and her friends (Sam, Haruka, and Jordan) are my OCs. They are based off me and my friends. If you are going to get involved in this series, I HIGHLY suggest you go HERE (.com/art/Emily-Reader-Draws-a-Circle-That-s-the-Earth-275191613) , and learn all about it. Thank you, I hope you enjoy!

GENERAL DISCLAIMER:

These fanfictions STAND ALONE. Unless otherwise specified, the plot will have little to no connection to following Emily Reader fics. I do not own Hetalia, only the OCs and the plot. EMILY READER AND HER FRIENDS ARE RAPIDLY CHANGING CHARACTERS. Their back stories, age, profession, etc. will change with the fics. Please understand.

The only language I currently speak fluently is English, and American English at that. I have a small vocabulary in German, and bits and pieces of Japanese, Spanish, French, and Italian. If anything is incorrect, blame Google Translate, not me. Any language corrections would be greatly appreciated.

I apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors. If there are any glaring ones I missed, feel free to tell me. Also, I'm sorry for any OOCness and stuff. And characters that I may wound/kill. Just remember that they'll probably be alive in the next fic.

Okay, thanks for bearing with me. If you've gotten this far, THANK YOU SO MUCH. I wish you loads of happy Emily Reader-ness. Art and more can be found on my DA page, and there's a link to that on my profile. Please enjoy!

Episode 1: I Won't Give In

AmericaXEmily

Rating: T

Whiney. Whiney, insufferable brat. Stupid. Stupid, cocky, nosy, flirt.

I had to tell myself this repeatedly to keep one thought down. Alfred F. Jones is gorgeous. But I can't admit it to myself. That would mean giving in. And Emily Reader does not give in. Nuh-uh. No sir. He's stupid. "Can I copy?" As if his F could get any better. He's nosy. "What are you reading?" As if he really cares. He's a flirt. "Oh! I heard they're making that into a movie. Wanna go see it with me?" And every time he asks I get that expectant look from Sam. And I blush. I know I do. And there's that wrench in my gut I get whenever I see people kiss. Whenever I read those cheesy books where the guy always gets the girl. Always that longing, that jealousy. And then he gives me those puppy dog eyes. His blue eyes just melt my heart every time. He could get anything he wanted with those eyes. Any girl he wanted. And still he goes for me.

"No."

And he gives me that look for a second longer. Then he deflates. He turns away, realizes he's lost. Again. And he looks so hurt, I almost give in. Almost. But Emily Reader does not give in. Nuh-uh. No sir.

They say opposites attract. If opposites attract, Alfred was made for me. He's everything I'm not. He's popular. I sit with one friend. He's sweet. I'm a total bitch. And most of all, he's GORGEOUS. I…I'm not. I'm just not.

Then there are those signs, the ones Francis goes on about. Sam asked him to hook me up with Alfred. So he started stalking me. I mean, I won't complain. Francis Bonnefoy stalking me? You wouldn't believe what that did to my social standing. I guess he told Sam that I already have feelings for him. The way I blush when he asks me out. He knows I'm battling with myself. The way I'm more of a bitch to him then to anybody else. He knows I'm only trying to convince myself.

Alfred was talking to Sam the other day. I can only guess he asked about me. The only reason I started listening is because she said chocolate and bacon. And then she mentioned teal, and that book I'm reading for the millionth time, how it's a new movie. How badly I want to see it. How much she doesn't want to go with me. She was telling him what I'm into, what I'm not. What I want to hear. It's nice to know she knows me that well.

The next day there's this note in my locker.

Hey Emily. I was wondering if you would go to the midnight debut of that movie you want to see. If you want to go, I can pick you up. I'll pay too. plz, er, Please? Call me if you can.

I noticed all the little things. He wrote it on a turquoise piece of paper. He fixed his mistake; he made a point of making his message clear. He didn't ramble. It was sweet.

But it was from Alfred. And saying yes would mean giving in. And Emily Reader DOES. NOT. GIVE. IN. Nuh-uh. No sir. But I kept the note. I couldn't bear to throw it away.
I passed him at lunch. I pretended not to see him watching me, trying to fight back the urge to ask if I would go. He forced himself to walk away. I passed him again later. He met my eyes this time. I shook my head and saw him die a little. "I can't, sorry." He nodded, squared his shoulders and walked away. Rumor has it he went and cried.
Guilt ate at me through the rest of the day. He didn't play basketball that day. I only know because he didn't miss and run after the ball, conveniently passing by me to say hi. He didn't offer to walk me home. I only know because I saw him doing his homework. The apocalypse is coming when Alfred F. Jones adverts those beautiful blue eyes down to do his algebra assignment.

I got home later, noticed he hadn't emailed me asking for help with some project or another. Dinner passed. I got a text from Sam saying he didn't show up at his basketball game. I decided there was something horribly wrong. I called him.

Now, I know what you're thinking. "Emily Reader just gave in." I didn't. I just called him. He didn't answer. I just got his obnoxious voice mail. I called three more times, with the same result. That was it. I grabbed my coat, slipped on my shoes, and walked out the door. Mom probably figured I just went to see my movie.

I walked to his house. It's not my fault his address is the first thing he says in his emails. It wasn't as far away as I thought. I rounded the corner and saw the flashing lights of sirens. My first thought was "What did he do?" I didn't freak out. His best friend got arrested for underage drinking. I didn't think that was above Alfred. Then I saw it was an ambulance. My next thought was, "I wonder what bone he broke."
But then I saw the cops and the people crying. I sped up. And an officer turned to me and said, "Are you Emily Reader?" I nodded and he handed me a note. If I had cared I would have noticed it was resealed. They did that in the book-slash-movie. I never saw that movie. But I did notice it was teal. I ripped it open and unfolded the note inside.

Emily. If you're reading this note, it means I'm done asking you to go see that movie. It means I'm done asking you to copy, it means I'm done. Every time you said no I just died a little. You probably called. Felt guilty. There's probably most of law enforcement out in front of my house. Bet you though I did something stupid, broke a bone or something. If only that were it. That's not what was broken today. Today my heart was finally broken. And I know if my heart was really broken I'd be dead. That seems like something you would say; you and your no drama personality. So, sorry for this drama I just dropped into your life. I would never want to do something like this to you, but I did this for me. It stopped being a matter of pride, you rejecting me. I love you. Even now, in the state I'm in, I love you. I love you so much, knowing you didn't love me made life unbearable. So I decided I'm done living. The pills are sitting in front of me staring me down. So, if anyone wonders what my last words are, I'll write them. Just know I said them aloud.
I love you, Emily Reader. In life. And in death.

I cried. The officer said I could keep the note. I thanked him, and walked home. Just like that scene in the book, where the girl walks home alone on that dark, cold night. I bet they did a great job of that in the movie. I wouldn't know. I never saw it.

So Alfred. Alfred F. Jones. You beautiful boy, you. If you can hear me, I love you. I'm sorry. Every night after the one you died I imagined what it would have been like to see that movie with you. It branched off so many different ways. But the ending was always happy.

I ditched that cheesy author. I'm sick of happy endings. Maybe I'll get into Poe. Something dark, where everyone dies at the end. Happy endings don't exist. I'm done with people skipping off into the sunset.

It's been a year since you died. I tried not to go emo. You told me once you hated girls like that. But that black lipstick looked so cool. And the ripped up clothes and the piercings. I'm sorry. Hopefully you can't see me like this.

I still have that note. I'm holding it now, as I stand in front of my birthday cake.

Sixteen candles. My wish? I want you back Alfie. I love you too.

You made me give in.

And Emily Reader does not give in.

Nuh-uh.

No sir.

A/N: Great. You probably hate me now. You probably never want to read Emily Reader ever again. I was just writing and I blinked and… he was dead. I just killed America. PLEASE. KILL. ME. NOW. Or read again, and see how alive he is in the next one. Reviews are love!