In the calming breeze of a summer's galore, I followed the playful, relaxing atmosphere that surrounded the wondrous lovers. One with golden waves of beauty for locks, his eyes of the purest sky blue I had ever been so luck to witness, and his chiselled nose sculptured like the gods themselves had spent every waking moment just to form his beautiful face. Even the slightly irritating beard on his gently pointed chin made every part of his phizog look smooth and brilliant. The way he was smiling right now, with both love and affection, made my heart race and the ball in my throat swell…

… With jealousy.

For the lanky arm of this perfect man wasn't wrapped around my waist, but the waist of someone else. This someone, with ruffled blonde hair which would never listen to a brush, eyes of distance lush meadows that were accompanied by inhuman thick eyebrows; he was the one in the arms of my true love.

Honestly, I could cry as I watched them act so happy together, and so much in love. Almost like the wind was telling me not to, the calming breath of nature blew through my own fairly blonde locks, at the same time, drying my meadow green eyes, and shimmered my peculiarly large eyebrows at the same time.

I should be happy that my life-time rival had finally found someone to be happy with… But I wasn't. All I could feel was the dark and deep hassle of jealously and sadness. There was only a large tear between a heart that was supposed to be whole, but nothing felt more agonizingly painful. It should be me smiling beside the smooth talking Frenchmen! It should be me having fun and forgetting about our lives as countries for just that moment! Why did things have to turn out like this? Why…

Why do I have to see a mirror image of myself… being in love with France?

It all began during those terrible days, almost a year ago now. I felt my temperature rise in a deathly phase, my body was shutting down drastically and I just couldn't move anymore. I needed to get home; I needed my home to be there! Breathing was becoming a relic of the past as the war between two halves of my country drastically fought with all their might. This wasn't good at all… Everywhere I looked; I could only see the awful sights of fresh blood and murdered bodies. What did I do to cause this?! No matter how hard I tried using my dying voice, no one could hear me. All I wanted was for this bloody war to come to a halt. All I needed to do was to find out why this was happening. But nothing seemed to stop the dark echoes of cries and screams.

"Stop…" I wanted to shout, "Please… Stop…" There was nothing I could do. Someone… Save this country… Save my country!

"Save me!"

In seconds, the worst pain imaginable shot through my veins. My voice suddenly returned as I screeched in anguish, clutching onto the suffering through my brain as if the pressure would die the pain down, yet still it coursed through my frame until it shot a bullet into my dying heart. The screaming I had tried to call out had broke in its tracks; I was left holding my mouth ajar and trying to use my call, but the agony was far too strong to allow me to howl for help. There was a trickle of water running down the sides of my eyes as my limbs thrashed around uncontrollably. I couldn't control my body anymore. No matter how hard I tried to hold myself down, or pull my thoughts back together, nothing could stop the involuntary movement caused by my brain in overdrive. I needed help! I needed just anyone to come by and help! A knock on the door, a ring of my phone, a message on my email, just anything that will let someone know that I couldn't survive if I was left alone for any longer.

Almost like someone above had heard my pleas for mercy, a strange tone rung through my ears. For a split second, a sigh of relief escaped my lips, but the sigh became nothing but another tormenting yell as another wave hit through my body. I forced my hand to listen to me, taking away all of my strength to reach to my bedside table and grab the diminutive item. But my grip wasn't strong enough. Spilling more tears, I watched with depression as it fell to the wooden floor, still ringing the familiar tune.

My only hope was to reach down and press the answer button before they hung up.

I drastically moved as much as I could, yet every millimetre I changed position sent electric chills to fight against me. Nothing was so excruciating, but my goal was set. I would die if I didn't answer that call. Finally, I took one last deep breath and threw my arm over the side of the bed and pressed that delicate button. However, what was thrown along with it was the rest of my slowly vanishing body.

"AHH-!" The held breath was knocked out of my lungs as my head hit the corner of my table.

All I remember after that is everything becoming black, and a distant voice through my phone.

"Allô? … Angleterre?"

When I woke up again, the pain had subsided. I was left in a relaxing, yet terribly ill state. I tried to move, but each of my limbs felt like they were burning and weighed down incredibly. Even my head had a strong weight that wouldn't move, no matter how hard I tried to twist from side to side. After a while, the weight was lifted, but then fell upon my forehead once more.

"Don't move around so much… You need to rest."

A voice… Did someone come after all? I realized now that I wasn't lying in agony on the floor like I had been, but comfortably on a bed. The weights holding down my limbs were in fact the duvet, and on my forehead was a rolled up cloth of cool water. Only, my strength had died down so much that I couldn't lift them away. Even my eyelids were too heavy to open.

"Young master, are you awake?"

Young master? There was only one person who referred to me like that. Of all the people to save me, was it really the country I expected my demise to come from? In my mind, my questions ran free, not once stopping for answers. I had expected my tongue to do the same, but all I could seem to do was lie there, motionless. I was awake, yes… But I couldn't move anything but my head… I couldn't talk and I couldn't open my eyes. What was going on?

"He's not gonna respond, you know."

Wait, I don't know that voice… Who is that?

"Oui, I know. But he's starting to move again… Surely that means he's waking up."

France sounded… So worried. Had he always been so affectionate for me?

"Not necessarily…" The voice seemed to have moved from one side to the other… To beside France.

"Why did this have to happen? I knew something was wrong when he didn't show up for the meeting, but I never thought-"

"Sh… It's okay, France." The voice was soothing him; I could hear ruffling of clothes and the gently noise of a hand rubbing over somebody's back.

This new voice sounded very familiar… He was Northern, almost close to the Scottish accent, but there was no way the voice was Scotland himself. After all, Scotland wouldn't come by to see me. Not unless I was in real danger. Yet, still, it was very close to a voice I knew already. It was almost… British. But it wasn't like my Southern accent. It couldn't be true though! The North of England was fighting the South in this damn civil war! It wasn't like I knew anyone close enough to the Northerners for them to visit. It could have been a doctor, but a doctor wouldn't be holding France in a comforting embrace. No… Then who could it be?

"Merci, Artie." France responded after a short while, "Have you found out what had happened?"

"No, I'm afraid," The Northerner named Artie replied, "Maybe it has something to do with the fight between his half of the country, and mine."

… Half… Half of a country? What the devil is he talking about? England is my country as a whole! There was no 'half' to it!

"This brings me back to my first question." France sighed, shifting his weight away from the new person, "You gave me a name, but who are you? Which country are you?"

So this… Artie… Was also a country? But with a Northern accent? I didn't know there was another country with one.

"I'm North England, France."

North… England? But… I'm England…

"The civil war split us both. I am the North; he is the South and Midlands."

I… Was split? Now I'm… South England…

I'm…

I…

I have a twin brother now… Artie… Is my twin brother?

This was the beginning of what seemed like the most wondrous year of my life, only to see this image of betrayal stand before me. I was only a few feet away, but neither of them seemed to be focused on anything else but each other. It was like I no longer existed. I wouldn't break down in front of them. I couldn't! What would it prove? That I really was weak? … I lost to my Northern half. He managed to take the only light I had left in this cruel world. Sure, France and I would always argue; we were rivals who refused to submit to one another. But he was my dearest rival. I wouldn't change him for the world.

He must have heard my heart cry out angrily. For all of a sudden, his gleaming sky orbs met my grim glance and widened.

"What is it, amour?" I heard his Northern accent fill the sultry air. He turned and widened his eyes too; my passive green meeting his entrancing green.

Every day while I lay ill on my bed, I was never left alone. France had taken the liberty of packing a suitcase and moving in; just to make sure I was properly cared for. At first, I wanted to shout and scream that I didn't need that frog-face to be around me. His disgustingly sweet scent filling the room made me feel ambivalence and it was getting on my nerves! The sooner I could open my eyes and move again, the better.

But hearing his voice brought me out of those thoughts unintentionally. He had always been a smooth talker; his voice was pure and soft like the white clouds over the reflective sky which beautifully shone in his eyes. It could make even the strongest of men swoon and relax. I'd hate to admit it, but it had the same affect on me. For all the years we had known each other, this was the first time we had spent so long without an argument, and I could finally understand just why so many had fallen at his feet.

Every day, he'd be by my side and talk about the first thing he could think of. Most of the time, it would be random babbling, but I slowly found myself enjoying the company. Normally, I would have found a way to shut him up and begin a fight, but without the option to do so, it made more sense to finally listen rather than loathe for as long as it took. I didn't know how long I was going to be in this near-coma state, after all.

But every cloud has a silver lining. Not only did France stay by my side, but so did Artie. Despite the fact that we were fighting, he would come by and chat to France. I knew what his intention was.

He wanted to take France away from me.

The only time I would hear France laugh was when Artie would talk to him. Unlike my feelings towards the Frenchman, Artie was much more open to his ideals and language. I would hear him with all the questions about his culture and food, even asking for France to teach him how to cook! My cooking was fine anyway, so maybe Artie wasn't so lucky during the split, but of all the people, he turned to France!

But what irritated me the most was the fact that they never argued. Artie was much kinder than I was, and much less uptight. Maybe that's why they got along… I hated the fact that someone else, another Brit, could get along like old friends with someone who had fought countless times through history with him.

I hate that he could do that when I couldn't.

"… A-Arthur?" France slowly whispered. It was easy to see that he didn't trust his eyes, "You're… You're finally awake!"

Even though he addressed to me, and was solemnly focused on me, I didn't return his happiness. My eyes had no glow, like I had just returned from the dead, and nothing but sadness tugged my lips. This was nothing like I had hoped my first awaking would be like. I wanted to be lying in the bed with France at my side, for the very first moment my eyes took the surroundings; I wanted to see him again. I missed his pathetic face. I missed being able to fight him. I missed every single part of him. A voice alone wasn't enough. I wanted to see him so badly, and yet-! Yet he was here! He was here wrapped around my brother! WHY WASN'T THAT ME?!

Months I had lied motionless passed by quicker than I expected.

"Ah, the birds are singing…" France smiled, probably looking out the window to the new season, "I can see the snow melting on the trees… So, despite your constant furrowed caterpillars for eyebrows, even your country can have a relaxing atmosphere like this…" He chuckled to himself and traced a thumb over my so-called 'caterpillars'.

"Even you can look so peaceful when you sleep… You'd be so much cuter if you were always this relaxed." His hands moved away from my face once more as he shifted in his chair, "… I once thought you'd be cuter if you were always like this… But I just want you to wake up again… It's not the same with you next to me to make me look even sexier."

If only I could punch that smug mouth of his. I wanted to so badly… but what he said next made almost all of my feelings of anger wash away;

"Oh, what's the point?! Mon dieu, Angleterre, just wake up! I'd give up all of my looks and talents if it means just hearing you banter again. I'd even shave off my hair!" His voice was breaking again. Any minute now, he'd break down for the nth time. It tore me apart constantly haring his sobs right beside me, while I was unable to do anything to make him feel better. He needed me more than I expected him to. I always thought that he would be the death of me, and then spend every day after that in total bliss of no longer having me around. But hearing these whimpers made me realize that, without me, he'd be alone… I was always lonely until I was with him too.

We were best enemies, and one without the other couldn't work.

I was begging my body to work, but nothing seemed to listen to me anymore. If I couldn't use my throat, then at least let me open my eyes! Anything to let him know I was here, I could hear him… But no. My lids, my limbs, my voice; my body wouldn't waver to my please.

The only thing I could do was listen. However, what I heard next only added to my anger. There were footsteps, quickly speeding up to the room, then running over to France's side.

"Bloody hell, France, you're working yourself up again…" I could hear him hovering over the tearful nation, trying to calm him down with simple reassurance and hopeful caresses. My jealousy rose into my throat. I wish I knew what this twin of mine looked like. His affections towards France were more than just friendly, even if the country of love was too fragile to notice himself.

Soon after that, France and Artie seemed to go out together a lot more… Almost every day. Almost every, single, bloody day! I was left alone in my thoughts for hours while they moved on and become closer. When the day had come that I had opened my eyes again, and gained the feeling of my body once more, I should have been blissful. But I felt nothing but hurt and betrayal. Artie was the reason I was trapped in that dark misery of paralysis, and the reason France was left crying for so long, yet here they were, practically forgetting that I exist!

While I was in hell, Artie was stealing my life and making it better for himself.

"Arthur," The damned Northerner called me out, "This may seem strange. You're probably wondering why we look alike. The truth is I'm-"

Before he could carry on, my first true emotion grabbed him by the throat.

"You're the one who took away everything from me!" I screamed, "Artie-fucking-Kirkland! The North of England, My TWIN brother!"

"Angleterre, what's gotten into you?!" I heard another shout, but I was too busy cursing to hear him properly. My hands were coiled around the neck of the one I had almost a year of built-up resentment towards, and I wasn't about to let go.

However, I was forced to.

Underneath my arms, holding me in a lock was the arms I wanted so badly to embrace me. My eyes widened with the first feeling of water trickling down my cheeks since the day I had fallen. Why was he doing this to me? After everything he had done, he was choosing a two-faced bastard over me. It only took seconds for me to realize that I couldn't win this battle anymore. I spent far too long unable to express my feelings towards him, and now he had been taken away from me. My body tried to fall, but still I was kept prompt up. So instead, my head fell and my tears finally run free. I couldn't hold myself back anymore.

"Why… Why, France? Why are you saving the person who put me in that position? The person who made you cry almost every day?"

France couldn't understand what I was trying to say. I didn't need to see his expression to know this.

"Young master… You were… Awake?"

"I couldn't do anything but listen to you, git!"

His arms dropped along with my weak frame. All I could do now was sit on the pavement and try to control my damp eyes. Yet, just like before, my body wouldn't listen. A full year of built up emotions were falling out in seconds.

"The person who put you in that position?" Artie voiced croakily, still nursing his neck, "I wasn't the one that caused the split in the first place. Dividing the country caused me!" I heard him tusk at the thought. He had a point, but there was no way I was going to allow him to get away with taking away the only person who had stuck by my side for so many years!

"You… If that bloody civil war hadn't made me like that… I would have been able to have my life just the way it was! With France there to be the twit he is, but still love him enough to keep him by my side!"

I love you…

"It wasn't my fault that you couldn't manage your citizens!"

I love you…

"You shouldn't exist! I AM England, North, South, and Midlands!"

I love you…

"You're lucky to still be alive!"

"You didn't need to steal away the man I love!"

Something changed after I had said that. I've never mentioned being in love with another man before, and the last thing I'd ever do was admit it was France. What happened to me? I wasn't myself anymore. I was just this jealous, unmanageable mess of the former me. It was just like the split had taken away a part of my personality, and was reflecting in front of me. I stood on my feet and glanced over to the shocked phizog of the middle man.

He didn't know what to do anymore. He never imagined dating England before, even less that another one would appear before him. Now he was left with a choice: Either the one he had known since we were children, or the one he had spent the last few weeks actually dating. I couldn't understand what he was thinking as his eyes traced over us both, but my stomach was dropping with every second and third time he ran through his choices.

After what could have been eternity, France's head dropped with a forming shadow over his eyes.

"Arthur… Artie… Je suis désolé… I don't want to have to choose."

This only made me angrier.

"I've been with you for centuries! Doesn't that mean anything to you?!"

"But I've been the one taking care of him! You weren't there when he was at his weakest, and he fell in love with me because of it!"

"Both of you stop it!" The pure hurt threaded to his usual silk voice was shocking to us both. The flame that darkened his orbs into a midnight blue made my heart race uncontrollably. This wasn't right… I only needed to gaze at him for long enough to know he had made his decision.

"No… France, no…" I couldn't make a simple sentence anymore. Artie smirked and rejoined his side. "Isn't anything… Everything you said to me… Doesn't any of that apply anymore?! "

Their backs turned without even a backwards glance over their shoulders. France's arm returned around Artie's waist and they walked off, smiling and joyful as if nothing had happened.

"But France…" I whispered, watching their lover's atmosphere disappear slowly.

"France…"

…

"… France…!"

My gaze snapped up from the book. Did someone just call my name? I looked around to find myself alone still, except for the sleeping frame on the bed beside me.

… It had been almost a year since I found him collapsed on the floor. I didn't want to know what sort of horrid images of war he had to witness to be in such a deep coma.

The loneliness in the house was unbearable. There hadn't been a single person to talk to while I took care of him besides the odd visit from another country, like America or Japan.

… But it wasn't the same.

There was no one to argue with.

No one to banter with.

No one I loved more.

Angleterre… Why can't you just wake up?

Hello~! So it's been a while since I've uploaded a new story onto here instead of DeviantART. This time, I uploaded to both! :3 I haven't really gotten much to say about this story though... I hope you liked it anyway. And yes, it's a One-Shot, so no asking for a sequel or new chapter!

-xlilslayerx-