USUK: Watching over me
"Hang in there!" England screamed, his voice becoming more and more scratchy as he lost energy. America grabbed onto England's sleeve and tried lifting himself up, but he quickly fell. "Stop moving! You're pushing yourself!" He kept the American down and tried putting pressure on the gashing wounds, America cried in pain. "Listen it'll be okay. Just stay calm, it'll be okay." He kept hearing the words over and over, England's voice as soft as it could be at this time. His vision faded in and out as England tried keeping him alive.
Just then, the enemy they were hiding from pounced up behind them, aiming his gun and quickly shooting of off; England quickly jumped in front of the wounded American. The sounds of gun shots went off though and shivers were sent down America's spine as he felt England's touch disappear. He tried opening his eyes again to see any sight of him but there was nothing there. He tried turning his head to where England was and he finally saw him, laying on the ground next to him. England held onto his chest, blood soaking his uniform within seconds. America couldn't react, he tried but couldn't, he could barely stay alive right now never mind helping England, though he wanted to. "A-Ar…thur…" he tried calling for him but his voice wouldn't get any higher than a whisper, he could barely breathe anymore…
"I-Its okay," England grabbed onto the American's sleeve. "Alfred it's going to be okay…" he could hear the Brit's voice weakening… "You're going to be okay…" Slowly he began to loose consciousness, his body felt completely numb by now, he couldn't even tell if he was even breathing anymore. He could feel England's hand slowly let go though, it seemed that was the last thing he felt before he passed out….
OOO
Ever since then….
The alarm clock went off for minutes before America actually decided to get up. He slowly turned the clock off and sat up in his bed, putting on his glasses then staying still. He stared blankly for a minute before getting up and heading into the bathroom. He looked around a bit and seemed to walk right past England tying his tie, not saying a word to each other. England looked up at the American then looked back down and finished his tie as the American washed his face and brushed his teeth, still staying silent except for the occasional yawn…
He slowly made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen, England following behind and sitting at the table as the American got his box of cereal out and poured a bowl. He yawned again as he took out the milk and poured it into the class, not offering the Brit any at all. He sat down at the table, sitting across from him and looked over the newspaper as he ate, hoping for any good news about D.C., some brave hero saving a child from a burning fire or a community getting together to read poor children a book, but only crime and horror came up; the unemployment rate still raising, people mugging, killing, stealing, and beating each other, more and more teenagers dying in car accidents. Nothing good, nothing at all, nothing to cheer up his depression; it seemed to only get worse.
He cleaned up his bowl and put it in the dishwasher, then went to the hallway closet to grab his old bomber jacket, sewed up from the rips and tears of old bullet holes. He looked at the tears for a moment, and shook his head, he didn't want to remember. He threw on his coat and zippered it up as England buttoned his suit's coat. America grabbed onto his keys and went out the door, England following out and walking down the stairs to get ahead of the American as he locked his front door, something he never used to do until recently.
I could never shake off the feeling….
The café he used to go to was as crowded as always. He took a deep breath as he walked in for the first time in weeks, ever since it happened. The café him and England used to go to all the time hadn't seen the American's face for so long, but England followed right behind him. They stood online for their morning coffee and tea but England wouldn't except anything from America right now, he didn't want to say anything if America wouldn't even talk to him. America ordered himself a coffee, made always to the way he liked it, and began to walk over to their table but he paused. He took one look at the table and gulped, England looked away and didn't say a thing. America shook his head a bit and took a deep breath, then walked over to the table. England looked at him a bit surprised and quickly followed, sitting down in the seat across from the American.
America stayed silent though, taking out his phone and checking any emails or messages, drinking his coffee as he did so. England sat back in his chair and simply stared at him, waiting for anything to happen. He looked away as America started playing his voice mails. "Hey Al, It's Mat again, I wanted to see if you were al-" deleted.. "Al, it's Mat. Please call me I'm worried about-" deleted. "America, it is Japan. Please c-" delete delete delete… "It's France. America, you really should see En-" delete… "Al, it's Mat. Please come, you know he need-" delete. He closed his phone, all the messages were stressing him out.
He took another deep breath and took a sip of his coffee, deleting the rest of his worrying emails, text messages, and voice mails; each getting to the same point he didn't want to hear. England looked at the American as he looked up from his phones, their eyes seemed to meet. England tried to smile, as if there was some connection for the first time in weeks, but America simply looked away…
Something… was there…
America left the café without a single glance toward England or anyone else for that matter. He walked with a blank expressionless face down the street once again, passing old places the two used to go; the bakery they would go for breakfast every Saturday, the restaurant they would eat every Sunday supper, the book store on the corner they would spend their Friday afternoons if they didn't go see a movie at the small theater across the street or visit the park down the street on a sunny day. All these things they never went back, not since that day.
Finally, he passed by the small markets. The store that would sell the best cakes and pies, the antique store that always had something valuable, the small toy store where children would always play with the toys before even thinking of buying one, and the flower store America would always stop at on the way home to pick up roses for the Brit waiting for him at home after such a hard day's work. He stopped and looked at them, England behind him in curiosity. He finally decided to look away once he realized America had gone blank again, simply staring at the bundles of flowers, roses, violets, sunflowers, poppies, and so many others. America, for the first time in weeks, smiled and picked up a bundle of a dozen bright red roses; England looked back at him again as the American paid for the beautiful flowers.
Someone was there….
For the first time in weeks, America walked on the dirt path to the place he regretted for weeks. England followed behind but stopped once he knew it was far enough. The dirt path turned to bright green grass, it always seemed to be so bright for a place so dark and gloomy, as he walked past numerous headstones, all surrounded by small pots, flowers, or even stuffed animals. America's face remained blank as he walked past them, finally getting to the place he wanted to be. The headstone was new, blank except for the name carved inside, but nothing laid on top on the fresh dirt grave. America reached down and placed the flowers on the grave, the standing up straight and staring at the name; Arthur Kirkland.
For the first time in weeks, ever since that dreadful day, ever since the saddest funeral, he smiled, knowing England was still there, knowing he would never forget who he was or what he did that day. For the first time in weeks, he spoke, giving something that was way over due. "Arthur… Thank you… for saving my life…"
Watching over me…