His feet seemed to be made of air, the people he passed in the hallway parting before him like the Red Sea. All that mattered at this very moment was the one man who had promised to love him forever, unconditionally and eternally. Because right now, that man was somewhere crying his eyes out for an unfeeling asshole when England himself could do something about it.
This is a story for my awesome friend EriksQueen ^^ A very very very late Christmas to you and I hope you enjoy it~
It wasn't the first time England had met Spain. In fact they had met many times before as pirates on the high seas and several times at modern day meetings. But every time he met the Hispanic nation, Arthur was struck by him. He liked listening to him talk and mess up his English. He wanted to run his fingers through Spain's wavy hair. There was not a day that passed him by where England didn't want to kiss him; repeat the pirate days when they would spend days together without interruptions.
The most frustrating factor for England was the fact that not only would the law be after them if there was a pirate revival, but Spain was infatuated with Romano. Twenty-four seven, Antonio was chasing Romano around and cooing small hymns of praise to the Italian brat only to be rewarded with insults. It confounded England to no end. Why did he waste his time trying to impress a man who insulted him viciously and reject him when England was wide open?
Thus even today at the EU meeting, Arthur's mind was wandering off topic. He hadn't even tried to take notes on Germany's presentation on Europe's economic state. Instead there were pictures of Spain and himself skipping through a field with Flying Mint Bunny and the unicorns. He was just starting to work on a background of a pirate crew doing a fruity dance number, when he got a face full of France.
"Mon lapin! What are you doing spacing out during a meeting~?" The Frenchman was preening his flamboyant uniform and hair for the Englishman, not seeming to be upset over the lack of positive reaction.
England rolled his eyes and glared. "Shut up, bloody git…. I've just heard all of this a million times over by now…" For a few minutes France tried to stir up some conversation but was ignored to the point of final frustration. After his least favorite neighbor had returned to his seat, England continued on with his distracted drawing.
Directly across from him were Romano and Spain. As usual the Spaniard was trying to hug the other man and practically singing his praises like a choir of angels. England felt his teeth hurt from how hard he was clenching his jaw. Romano was shoving Spain away with a hand to the face and Spain was just smiling and going along with it like it was just a fun game. A few nasty curses in Italian were heard over the general low babble of other nations and Germany's usual ranting which made England smack his head on the desk in frustration.
The meeting was adjourned after Prussia and France had decided to set fire to their notes in the corner of the room which inevitably sparked a mass exodus from the meeting room. England wandered through the halls of the building, scuffing his feet and grumbling under his breath about how idiotic this whole thing was, and could it kill them to provide tea in the meeting rooms?
While these thoughts ran through his head, England heard a few loud shouts up ahead in a side hall and crept forward quietly on tip-toes. Within moments he could discern the voices as belonging to Spain and Romano. Spain sounded desperate, his tone pleading with tears evident. The Italian's voice, however, hinted at extreme anger and frustration.
England rounded a corner and nearly came face to face with the confrontational couple. He swiftly ducked back behind the wall, listening in on the argument.
"You fucking idiot, I told you I don't want to be around you anymore! What part of 'we are through' do you not understand?"
"L-Lo siento…I just don't understand why…"
There was a loud bang on the wall and England flinched.
"Because I don't love you, idiota! I just don't love you that way anymore! I've found somebody better and a whole hell of a lot smarter…you don't understand do you…do I need to beat it into you?"
"N-no…"
"Then stop following me around! I shouldn't need to tell you this a million times." The Italian sighed softly. "Go get yourself your own hotel room."
After that there was the sound of footsteps walking off in another direction then silence. England waited a moment before the small hiccups started. He stayed stock-still. Was that Spain?
The Brit was about to walk out from behind the wall and comfort the man but another pair of footsteps running closer. Before England could say a word, Spain ran past him and down the hallway, tears dripping down his cheeks and not seeming to have any idea of where he was going. England remained standing against the wall, wanting nothing more than to follow him.
Instantly, England's mind shot to Romano. That man was the exact reason why his Espana was in tears; the reason why he, England, was not with that beautiful Spaniard. Even back in the days when they were together on their own pirate ship, England had been rather protective. However, once Spain had left and gone off crying to that idiotic Italian. It set his teeth on edge to think of that image.
That image of a crying Spain clinging to Romano who was dressed in tight leather and wearing a sadistic grin, knife in hand. England loved the sight of Spain's blood just as much as the next guy, but he just knew that Romano's knife was not good for him. He could imagine it was made of acid meant to burn and tear it's way into one's very soul. The image of Romano started to bring its knife of acid down to dig into Spain's skin and leaving burning, leaking slashes. Antonio's face was twisted into pure agony and he turned to England and reached out with a trembling hand. But as England reached out desperately to the Spanish nation, the vision disappeared and he was left with his arm extended to a flower plant on a nearby mahogany table.
With a sigh, England leaned back against the wall. In that moment his mind was made up. With what he had just witnessed there was no way England couldn't do this. He pushed away from the wall harshly and took off running after Spain. His feet seemed to be made of air, the people he passed in the hallway parting before him like the Red Sea. All that mattered at this very moment was the one man who had promised to love him forever, unconditionally and eternally. Because right now, that man was somewhere crying his eyes out for an unfeeling asshole when England himself could do something about it.
It felt as though his mind could sense Spain's presence as he tracked the man through hallway after hallway and peering into almost endless rooms. Almost an eternity passed in his mind before he found Antonio. There were quiet sniffles coming from a room towards the top of the hotel. England knew those sounds, knew them very well, he realized with a twinge of guilt in his heart. He slowly opened the door, half expecting to see his old Captain's Quarters on his ship…a Spaniard chained to his bed. Yet beyond the door was a dark room with a small twin bed, table and TV. On the bed was a small lump wrapped up in the blankets and emitting small hiccups.
England approached slowly and carefully. This was one thing he didn't want to mess up, and the normally cynical and negative nation was determined not to lose this chance. Today was the day that England would show Spain just how much better he was compared to that Italian brat. Not only did he plan on being kind and caring about the Spaniard's current situation but he would also complete his secret agenda. Of course, England had only the best intentions for the Spaniard.
The lump gave a small twitch and a head of curly, brown hair poked out from underneath the blankets and two eyes the color of absinthe blinked blearily.
"Inglaterra? What are you doing here?" The words were guarded, halting slightly as though Spain were trying to hide the fact that he had been crying.
"Uhm….I, uh…came to say hello…" England coughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.
Spain sat up and fixed him with a puffy eyed stare. After a small pause he spoke. "You don't ever come by for that, Inglaterra…" He frowned slightly at the shorter man, rubbing tears from his cheeks. "What do you want from me?"
England stared at the tracks of moisture that Spain had failed to erase. It seemed almost silly now to think that he could make this situation any better. After all, the two got into fights over stupid things almost every time they met. Still. He had to try anyway.
"Are…are you…did you cry much, you idiotic Spaniard?"
A slight pause followed. "Fuck you."
He wished so badly to sink into the floor and become one with the multiple layers of filth that coated the hotel carpet. Whatever possessed him to say that?
With an air of annoyance, Spain got up from the bed and strode right up to England's face. The Brit blinked rapidly and took a hesitant step back. Great…the whole plan he had assembled was going to hell in a hand basket. All those nights spent awake and dreaming of the day when he would finally tell Spain how he truly felt. Wasted. How stupid he felt.
A few moments passed before the glaring Spaniard spoke. "Captain…" His voice was soft and held a slight tinge of wanting. In a split second, Spain went from glaring balefully at the other man to hugging him tightly like he was afraid the other would disappear forever.
"Wh-what are you doing, git?" England tried to sound tough and aloof as usual but with Spain hugging him like this and the realization that he hadn't screwed this whole thing up left him helpless to the trembling grasp.
Spain looked him straight in the eye and smiled. "You have no idea…I'm sorry…so sorry for leaving you." His green eyes drifted downward. "Our time on your ship and after all the love you gave me. It never stopped haunting me…"
For a few seconds, England was struck dumb in surprise. This, he hadn't expected at all. In fact, he hadn't foreseen Spain feeling guilty for leaving his loving embrace all those years ago. He couldn't let this moment slip by without doing something, and quickly.
As Spain was about to open his mouth to continue, England kissed him hard on the lips, causing the other's eyes to widen in surprise. They stayed this way for a while, neither one truly wishing to move away. With this one act of love they tried to convey the feelings that couldn't be said aloud for lack of the right words. When they finally parted, the two smiled at each other, holding tight together.
"Te amo."