AN: Had a bunch of ideas based on songs, so I decided to write song fics for them. It's going to be going into angsty territory, but there will be light hearted stuff too if anyone is reading. Writing this to pass the time.
England didn't know why he was there. The bright, flashing lights, the vibration of the loud music, the constant chatter of the other countries…it was enough to make Arthur scream. It was America's stupid party and he wouldn't hear the end of it if he didn't attend. He found himself sitting alone on the couch drink in hand, watching everyone else enjoying themselves. America didn't even pay him any mind, the bloody git. He pressed the cold glass of beer to his lips and took a long sip, setting it down on the table in front of him.
"Is everything all right, England?"
England, startled that someone actually spoke to him jumped. "Y-yes, I'm fine. Thank you for asking, Japan." He smiled weakly his green eyes locking with Kiku's.
"You just seemed lonely by yourself," he said quietly surveying the crowd. "Is something bothering you?"
Arthur squirmed under the scrutiny of Japan's question. Taking a quick glance in the direction of America's voice, he quickly, stood up taking the empty glass with him. "I'm fine…I just need another drink."
Japan knew England was disturbed, but decided to leave it alone with a simple nod. He returned to Italy and Germany chatting on the other side of the room.
England watched him leave with a bit of relief. He stumbled into America's kitchen in search of another drink. On the counter he saw mainly beers and some cheap wines, but he immediately was drawn to the crystal bottle of vodka in front of him. Hastily, he poured the putrid liquid into his glass and chugged it, slamming the glass on the hard marble surface. Ugh. The burning sensation in his throat was almost unbearable.
His view was getting hazy and his head was spinning. What the hell was he doing here? England pressed his hands onto the counter to steady himself. He was beginning to feel sick, the liquor starting to rise up from his stomach. From the other large room he could hear Alfred's laugh, even through the loud music. England grinded his teeth together in irritation.
Now and then I think of when we were together
Arthur thought of when they used to be so close, the best of friends. He treated America like a brother and had taken care of that bloody twat!
Like when you said you felt so happy you could die
'Let's go home, America.' England said smiling extending his hand to child. Slowly, the little boy reached out for England's hand and grabbed it. He smiled back at Arthur happily. 'Okay!'
It had been the first time England had truly felt loved by something, this child had picked him, chose him over France to be his big brother.
I told myself that you were right for me
England cared deeply for America then…and he still did now even though he didn't want to.
But felt so lonely in your company
As time went on, they had grown distant. America had grown up so quickly, in that short time England had left. They had never fought prior, but soon they disagreed more and more about how America should move forward. Things were changing…and America was becoming more and more rebellious. England had hoped the phase would just pass, but it never did.
But that was love and it's an ache I still remember
Angrily, England tried to stand up properly without the support of the counter. What did it matter? America didn't seem to care. So why did he? Why couldn't he just move on?
You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness
Maybe it was like drinking. Whenever he started pouring himself glasses of alcohol, the gears in his mind began grinding. And all thoughts would go back to the same spot: America. He was the one…the one he cared for most. The one that had broken his heart and smashed it into a million pieces and walked all over him.
Like resignation to the end, always the end
That day in the rain when England pointed his gun at America's face, he couldn't shoot. He could not pull the trigger. The thought of shooting to kill him made him ill. He dropped his gun…he could have tried harder to make him stay, to not leave him, but he didn't.
So when we found that we could not make sense
England wanted him to stay, he didn't want him to run off into the unknown. Why couldn't he see that? 'You used to be so…great.' Those words! Those words played in Arthur's mind on repeat, like a broken record.
Well you said that we would still be friends
The tears were streaming down Arthur's face as he staggered out the kitchen leaning against the wall. He paused to help the liquor stay down. After a few years they attempted to talk again. They were considered to be on 'friendly' terms, but nothing was like it used to be.
But I'll admit that I was glad that it was over
Arthur tried to convince himself it was for the best. He told himself that America was nothing more than idiot that would have ruined what England stood for…yes, that's what he tell himself. Denial was making his heart ache more though. He wasn't believing his own lies at this point.
But you didn't have to cut me off
Without warning, someone bumped into England pressed against the wall. "Sorry, dude! Didn't see you there!" America said patting England's shoulders.
England looked at him bitterly. "Yes…ju-just like you didn't see mee, f-for the rest of your stupid party," he replied fumbling his words.
"Huh?" Alfred looked at him with surprise. "Sorry, everyone wanted to talk and I just couldn't say no! And it looks like you've been drinking a lot…" he replied smelling England's breath.
"I don't care!" he whined banging on Alfred's chest with his fists. "I hate you! You should jus' go away!"
Make it like it never happened and that we were nothing
America grabbed England's fist to prevent them from hitting him any further. "Dude, you need to calm down-"
"No, I don't! You treat me like nothing!" he sobbed out. "We aren't even friends! It's all just a bloody lie! Why do you hate me so much?"
I don't even need your love, but you treat me like a stranger
America's eyes widened. "I don't hate you..." he frowned. Alfred grabbed one of England's arms and began to drag him back into the kitchen.
"Let go of me, you bloody git!" Arthur protested struggling to break free of America's powerful grasp. "I never needed you! I don't need you at all!"
And that feels so rough
"England-" America started.
"No! Shut up! I hate your guts!" Arthur yelled breaking free of America's grasp wiping his eyes. "Why did you have to leave me?" He slurred out.
No, you didn't have to stoop so low
"You know why," replied America with a hint of sadness in his voice.
Have your friends collect your records
England couldn't stop crying. "I just wanted us to bond! I just wanted us to be close…but you teamed up with frog face against me!" The anger and sickness were rising all at once.
And then change your number
America said nothing, but looked upon the other man with pity. He walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a glass to fill with water from the sink. He walked over to England and offered him the glass of water. "Take it," he said.
Guess that I don't need that though
England slapped the glass out his hand disgusted. "I don't want your damn help! Just…just go away!" He slumped against the wall covering his face with hands. It had been so many years…decades and he couldn't understand why. Why it had all fallen apart.
Now you're just somebody that I used to know
America's sadness turned to sourness as the glass was flung out of his hands sending glass shards flying and water spilled over the wooden floor. If he really felt this way then fine.
Now and then I think of all the times you screwed me over
"Fine." Alfred said glowering at the other man hunched up against the wall. He had tried to mend their relationship many times. But they would always end up arguing and insulting each other, never once making any progress. "We don't have to be friends. But stop blaming me for everything."
Had me believing it was always something that I'd done
England was shaking now, dismayed at his words. He ran his fingers through his hair silently.
"You always had me thinking it was my fault…that I destroyed everything." America said folding his arms. "But you never took the time to listen to me. You had just stopped seeing me and then just showed up one day trying to force rules down my throat."
"No," England shook his head. "No…it wasn't like that!"
But I don't wanna live that way
"You can't just leave someone like that, Arthur." He said sounding bitter too. "I learned to take care of myself. I grew up."
The words were crushing Arthur's being, tearing right through his heart. He hadn't meant to leave America alone, he never wanted to be apart from him. It was the fault of his country trying to mend it's own damage. If he was broken, how could he help America?
Reading into every word you say
"You would say one thing, and then do another. I was tired, dude."
You said that you could let it go
Their eyes locked, the blue piercing into the green. "You told me you had moved on." Alfred said resentfully.
"I…can't," Arthur said looking at the ground helplessly. "I tried…but I can't."
He was still feeling ill but sobering up a bit. England only wished he could move on, but that desire was fruitless. He loved America too much. It was killing him.
They remained silent amidst the noise happening outside of the kitchen. The dark feelings were surrounding the two of them like a rain cloud. It was stifling to have so much bad blood in one room. If the past is only in the past why did it appear so much in the present? The past controlled the future and it was one hurdle they could never jump over.
And I wouldn't catch you hung up on somebody that you used to know
"I have to see about my guests." America said slowly leaving the room no longer able to deal with the situation. He paused for moment, but didn't turn to face England. "You used to be so great…What happened to you?" And those were his last words as he left.
England said nothing, as no words could come out of his mouth at this moment in time. He watched him walk away, just like before. And he couldn't stop him. There was nothing he could do to prevent him from leaving. Arthur grinded his fingernails into the floorboards. His tear drops fell onto the floor as he sat unmoving, frozen in time. Once again America had left him lonely, breaking his heart for the second time. And once again England had failed; he let him walk away, he escaped him. It was all for naught. He and America were strangers to each other now, and nothing more. He had hammered the nail into his own coffin. The damage had been done.