I just took the time to browse the USUK archives and I noticed all my stories. I should really stop doing that - but I can't help when these ideas come to me. :/

Reviews are nice. They motivate me. Getting a bit angsty here.

beatae memoriae

England was trapped in a room that slowly constricted around him – squeezing the life out of him while the color drained out of his life. His lungs were crushed, his breaths coming in strange, ragged gasps. His eyes were watery, and his throat felt strange – was this what it was like to cry? England didn't know. All he knew was that in a day, his reason to live had been taken away from him. Words lost meaning, colors lost their vibrant hues, and England felt like he was drained – his heart had been cut out, his blood draining out of his lifeless body as he could do nothing but watch. He wanted to die. He wanted to feel something, anything to remind him of the things he had once felt, the skipping of his heart, the love that had once invaded his thoughts. But then England remembered. His heart had been ripped out and he had been left to die, alone. His head spun, and the world wobbled for a minute before it disappeared entirely. This wasn't his world anymore – there was nothing there for him. The only tie he had to reality was gone. England could feel the tears flowing down – he did nothing to wipe them away. He couldn't move – wouldn't move. He couldn't imagine life without himhe was his life. He had enough life and love and light for the both of them, and now everyone of those were gone, crumpled and torn and burned. England fell to his knees, sobbing on the grave in front of him. Amer – England shut off his thoughts before he could remember the name. He couldn't survive without him – couldn't sleep without him there. The island nation stayed in the graveyard the rest of the night, eyes turned toward the stars in hope that his thoughts had reached his lover, and buried himself in the memories of days before.

Those days of blessed memory were long gone – and so was he.