And I Knock on Death's Door

"This last one should take care of it…"

Using a knife to cut his wrist oh so close to a fatal vein, but not enough for the edge of the blade to reach it—the emerald eyed nation allowed just a single drop of blood to fall onto a letter he had written that was placed on his office desk, before retreating his hand back to his person before anymore blood had its chance to fall upon the paper. The drop made a somewhat spiked, circular splat as soon as it hit the white sheet—only spreading out just a bit before stopping and waiting for itself to dry into a lighter shade of red.

And all the country did was stare at the single drop that had landed. And all he did was stare at the letter he had written just for this occasion.

He had felt nothing—the slicing of his wrist had felt like nothing even as thd skin was opened forcefully, even now as the crimson fluids continued to gush out as he used his other hand to tightly clutch his injured wrist. And he just stared—stared at the letter with his emerald eyes that had lost all its shine—that had looked so broken, but his insides clashed with his emotions that it just numbed his physical senses.

And he just stood there—the emerald eyed man. Just staring at a piece of paper, grasping onto his bleeding wrist.

"And that's that. That should do it…" He said calmly, as if it was something everyone would do. He didn't want to go down in such a pathetic state of crying and self loathing like all others would do when they were about to take their own life. But then again—they would probably be doing the same thing as Arthur right now. Trying hard to not show emotion and let this go by as smoothly as possible.

But it hurts too much. Everything just pounded down on him to force him to crack until each and everyone of those everythings had a piece of him.

And England's mind snapped. Tears began to pour from his eyes almost as easily as the blood poured out from his wrist and quickly seeped through his hand that was wrapped around his bleeding wrist—and he held tighter to his wrist to increase the pain it was already causing.

But his chest hurts too much. It constricted painfully as he cried and even more so as he choked on his sobs that became more frequent the more he cried.

The letter—and the letter. Arthur's eyes had looked it over so many times—thinking that there was something he needed to change, something he need to add, but he had thought about what he was going to write many, many years ago…He didn't need to look it over—because he already knew exactly what t say and how he was going to say it. He was prepared for the end a long time before the end was at his doorstep, but that didn't stop him from moving his eyes across the sheet of paper. He didn't know why he did it, he already knew that there was nothing to change, but somewhere in the back of his mind—he was not looking for some error to fix, or some phrase to change in his writing…

Arthur was looking for a reason to not take his own life—a reason to live. So he desperately tried to find one in his own suicide letter.

My fellow countries,

I highly doubt any of you will find this, but it does not matter whether or not someone does. The outcome is the same. Don't worry this letter will not be long—you can relax because I will not be lecturing you.

It will be very simple. You can decipher it any way you wish. What I want to say to you all is—

Good bye.

You all should know my reason for saying this. And I doubt he will even care. But everything will be much better for you all with me gone.

There was no reason. This was the best thing he could ever do for everyone. No one needed him, his country can survive on its own—his brothers wanted it anyway so everything works perfectly. It was like the Earth itself had anticipated this from the very beginning and had made sure the nations within it would act accordingly to its plan.

Shutting his eyes and crying even harder—England held tighter onto his wrist as he turned his head away from the letter and began to slowly walk to his cabinet. And in there he pulled out a gun. It was nothing marvelous and it was in no way suitable for the brutal actions of war—but it was reliable, it was dependable. He could trust it to do this simple job.

One bullet. And there was only one bullet loaded inside the weapon, because that was all he needed. That was all it was going to take to end everything and finally let ones he made carry so much burden, so much of him, and finally have the weight be lifted from their backs. Especially to one special country.

"The floors will be messy after this…" England chuckled sadly as he mumbled those words for only his own ears to hear. This truly was not the time to be speaking of cleanliness, but his words were merely from spit of himself.

Looking down on the table whilst his hand tremble around the handle of the gun as he clutched tightly onto it—one framed picture of a heartbreaking photo stood proudly on top the surface of his desk—he didn't dare to have the person in the photo hear his miserable words, lest it mocks him for being so weak, "Ha… I used to be so big…"

"You used to be so big…"

The saddened Englishman chuckled once again—sounding more of a pained cry than what it was intended to be, "I'm sorry you had to see me like this again Alfred…" He forced himself to say as cheerfully as he could while looking fondly at the framed photo upon his desk, "But I couldn't help myself…" A warm smile found its way on his lips—loving the way the person's smile would outshine the sun, the way his ocean blue eyes would show the happiness in everything.

Everything—but in him, England.

Soon the reassurance of the smile faded away and instead a hurtful indifference took its place, "There is no place for me here… This country deserves much more than what I can give. This worlddeserves better than me…" Slowly extending his free arm towards the picture—England flinched for a moment in realization of his action, but continued anyway until he had grabbed onto the frame. And he lifted up to see the photo more clearly as he smiled softly once again and gazed lovingly at the one in the frame, "The least I can do is make you happy—by disappearing from this world…" As he stared at the glass covered picture he took notice at the many little drops that had fallen on tops its surface—he hadn't even noticed he was still crying.

Another chuckle, then England lifted the frame up close to his tear streamed face as he closed his eyes and placed a light kiss on the glass before slowly bringing it back down, "I suppose it is time, right Alfred..?" And another warm smile, whilst he cried all his broken tears.

The emerald eyed country couldn't even see the things in front of him because of his tears, as he made his way to the middle of his office with the gun at one hand and the framed photo in the other, "This is it."

Taking one last look at the picture of his beloved with another warm smile on his lips—England clutched the frame closely to his heart over his chest where his rapidly beating heart beats and raised his armed hand towards his head to point directly at his temple. His smile didn't leave his lips and the tears just kept falling and falling freely down his cheeks—tightening his hold on the picture of America, "This is it…"

And England pulled the trigger.

BANG!

I HAVEN'T BEEN ON HERE IN LIKE FOREVER D: I AM SO SORRY WITH MY STORIES AND MY WINNER'S ONESHOTS D': Everything has been hectic and I might not make the oneshot too long (It will be short and sweet~)

This oneshot has been moved from Deviantart (based on a RP and to help me think) and it was during the summer so it's been a while since I wrote this.. I will try to come back here often..But if you want to bug me I've been on my (new) deviantart account EnglandAdvice. I still use my main/old account but this is where I am all the time now ^^ Now I will not write a sequel-although someone on here continued it to see how it will end with Alfred knowing (I found it flattering that someone actually took the time to continue my works -sniffles-) Anyway, if I were to make a continuation of this I wouldn't have Alfred be sad-I would break my own heart with this and make him happy with England's death because it is something different-even though I don't like it and it will hurt to write..

REVIEW PLEASE! I NEED MOTIVATION TO WRITE AGAIN! (I stopped writing...)