I've had a rough week, have some vaguely OOC angst.
Asteria, I'll reply to you at the bottom (*´∀`*)
Enjoy! ;)
England touched Scotland's face tenderly, his face screwed up in concern. His face was pale and white, no sign of life in him other than the shallow rise and fall of his chest and the weak thrumming of his heart, doing only enough to keep him alive, but nothing more. Truly there really wasn't all that much of Scotland left other than his body.
This is strange. Turn around.
England shook his head.
"I miss seeing you. All I get is your nagging these days."
How would you feel if I made you stare at your own unconscious body for ages?
England's face screwed up, his voice quiet. His thumb brushed over Scotland's cheekbone, over a patch of freckles denser than the others.
"I would tolerate it, because I could know the ache it would help ease."
The ache is the problem. Look away, this is only making it worse.
Ignoring him, England kicked his legs up onto the bed, laying down beside Scotland's body and continuing with his gentle caresses of his face. He bit on his lip.
"I miss you, poppet."
England…
England sucked in a hard breath, turning the unconscious face so it was tilted in his direction.
"It's silly, but I miss looking into your beautiful eyes, and I miss watching you smile and laugh, and I miss touching and kissing and… and I even miss fighting with you, I miss the fire in your eyes and the set in your shoulders and I miss seeing life in your cheeks."
England, let me see you.
Screwing his face up once again, England turned away from Scotland's body and stood up, walking over to a mirror on the other side of the room, staring himself in the eyes and pointedly ignoring their red rims and the hard set in his jaw.
Walk closer.
England did.
Closer, get right up to the glass, I want to see you.
England did, finding it harder and harder to ignore how badly he was holding it together.
Press your forehead against the glass and look into your eyes.
England did. And he knew exactly what Scotland was doing, he wanted to feel like he was looking at England, through his own eyes. Like he so wanted to do to Scotland. He wanted to close his eyes, but he didn't, he just stared, every moment of Scotland's silence making more tears well in his eyes because he needed to know what Scotland was thinking.
I love you.
At that, England noticed a single tear escape from his eye. He blinked. And there went another.
"I want you back in your body."
Me too.
"I want to look into your eyes and not my own."
I want to look into them from my own.
"What were you thinking?"
I wasn't thinking at all. I should have read the spell more thoroughly.
"Oh, well that's all very well and good to say, but what if you can never go back?"
Don't say th-
"Well!"
England turned sharply away from the mirror, wiping the tears from his eyes hastily, his shoulders tense.
"What if!"
His voice was a growl, deep and low and angry.
"What if you're stuck in my fucking head forever!? What if I never get you out of my subconscious!? What if I have to spend the rest of my existence staring at your lifeless fucking body because you're still alive so it can't die!? What if I have to spend the rest of my days staring at the man I love constantly dying in front of me!?"
England…
"What?"
He sounded small. Weak.
England, please. You'll see me again. I promise.
There was a pause.
Go to me.
England wasn't sure why he did, but he followed Scotland's instructions.
Kneel over me.
Once again, England wasn't sure why he did, but he did.
Look at me.
England felt his breath hitch as he looked down at Scotland's closed eyes and blank expression. He didn't try to stem the tears now steadily falling down his cheeks, he just let them soak his collar.
You see me? Right there, in front of you? I'm there, ready to get my mind back, and when I do I'm never going to let go of you. I'm going to touch you and kiss you and stare into your eyes until neither of us can keep them open any more.
"Is that a promise?" England asked, a weak smile pulling at his lips, cutting at his even weaker voice.
I love you.
England choked out a sob at the sound of Scotland's voice in his head. It had lost its level tone. It had lost any semblance of calm. It was desperate and small and somehow even weaker than his own. It made him lean down, squeeze his eyes shut and press his forehead into the unresponsive one of the man below him.
"What the fuck were we thinking?"
I don't know… I wish I-I did.
"I don't want- I need you back, Scotland. I'd take a million insufferable grins, or incorrectly made cups of tea, or grumpy hangovers… I'd take anything over this."
We'll fix this. We have to.
(To Asteria, just message me when you get an account and we can talk about it, I just like to make sure of a few things and communicating this way is not exactly ideal. Thank you ;D)