Hello everybody and welcome to my first fanfic! I hope you guys enjoy this, and here are a couple things I would like to say: 1. I would REALLY love critiques! They make the story better for you and me! So critique as hardly as you wish. 2. Through my work, I tend to make emotion shine more. So I would love to see how I'm doing with that, or what I'm doing right, or how you guys feel when reading this!
Alright, this will probably only have a couple chapters, unless I feel like going further, but enjoy!
EDIT: PLEASE READ: 11/11/12 Hi again. Okay so I totally rewrote this after not feeling very satified with the first version. I changed some things and I think it would be important to read this again? I have the old one here: Reneehereee dot! tumblr dot! com / stuff . so It would be really awesome for you guys to tell me what stuff looks better on each one or something? PLEase? Thanks for the critiques! They really motivate me and I hope you can see a change? And sorry I was out of power and stuff from sandy. And I've been really busy lately because of school and someone in my family passed away. Thanks for reading 3 (more than a thousand words longer than the last one and like 2 pages longer!)
Another wrapper was tossed into the pile, knocking others off of the table and onto the floor. In the kitchen he sat, the young big nation, America. He sat slouched over a bit, legs spread out; he took a bite of his unwrapped cheeseburger tasting the foul tasting substance. The only light in the kitchen was what little light that shone through the windows and through the thick cloud and the dim kitchen light on the ceiling. His dull blue eyes looked up at the clock hanging on the wall, nine forty-two. He took a deep breath before indulging himself in another bite. It was too early for this stuff, no wonder why he already had so many cheeseburgers.
He had eaten these things for a century or two; the taste began to grow bland after the first year or so, eating so many everyday. They were his comfort food at first because he liked them, but now he ate them also to make the other countries think he just loved eating them. It was surprising that he wasn't overweight, but he has fast metabolism and works out a lot. He thought about eating something else that wouldn't leave a horrid after taste in his mouth, but he didn't want to cause any suspicion or draw any unneeded attention. But it was days like today when food couldn't just mend the terrible ache in his heart, he needed to hear one person's voice, England. His voice was his last resort; he always had to be careful though. He didn't want to get hurt anymore.
England, oh god how he missed him... Not a day would go by when he didn't pass his mind, and he always wondered if he ever thought of him. But of course he didn't, Arthur hated him. Every time they talked or anything, he could swear to hear the distaste in his voice. It was all because of the American Revolution; it was all because of himself! But of course, who wouldn't hate him after that? But that was not what he was aiming for from that war. Being England's younger brother, he was told what to do all this time and he was so protective. But he didn't want that kind of a relationship. He loved Arthur, no, he was in love with Arthur. He loved everything about the man. His blond hair, his beautiful green eyes, his bushy eyebrows, he was so handsome; but also his personality, he was a gentleman at times, he was so smart and has been through so much, he could get angry but he was cute, and the way he always cooked his food. America always noticed all the little things he does like the way he crosses his legs, or sometimes his eyes even lit up when he talked about certain things.
Alfred opened up another sandwich and began to munch on it. He just wanted Arthur back. Of course now he always scowls and yells at Alfred, he missed his old happy England. But he ruined his chances after the war; it did the opposite of what he wanted! It drove them apart. Alfred was so devastated after this, he wasn't fine, but he acted like he was. Why? Maybe subconsciously He wanted to be England's hero, and the hero is always happy; or maybe it was because he didn't need anyone's sympathy or Arthur, he just wanted Arthur; or maybe it was because of some entirely different thing. He always kept his feelings hidden after that, hiding behind someone else.
In front of everyone else he was a strong country, but he was also childish, innocent, and obnoxious. The perfect cover, no one would notice. But inside, he was actually pretty smart, he could act professional when he wanted to, but he was hurt and afraid. Afraid what everyone would think of him, afraid that people might forget about him, and afraid Arthur would one day stop putting up with him and talking to him and forget him altogether.
Today was a day where everything caught up with him; all the lies he told, the time he hurt England and he just felt so weak. His economic situation wasn't helping very much, or the upcoming elections which made him nervous. But he needed to hear Arthurs voice, or maybe he could invite him over to watch a movie, a scary movie. That would be a good excuse, because he would always act scared and end up close the Arthur while watching the movie. Most of the movies weren't even that scary that he watched, but he had to act afraid of something, right?
His body straightens as he eyes the phone on the table besides all the paperwork and wrappers that were pilled. He hadn't known he had been shaking until he reached forward to grab the phone. He was going to invite him to come over to watch a movie, he might say no, but Alfred just really wanted to hear his voice. His eyes fluttered shut; he figured it was about three for England. Not too late. His eyes were locked at the phone as his figures gripped it with great force. He let out a long breath and entered the only number he was so very familiar with and gently brought it up to his ear.
He heard the phone begin to ring, and he cleared his throat and prepared himself and put all of his thoughts behind him. His hands began to sweat from gripping the phone too tight and he tried to calm down.
"Hello, Arthur here." the most beautiful British accent came through the phone. Alfred smiled, but there was a hint of sadness under it. It was Arthur, someone he could never have. He just wanted Arthur to wrap his arms around him and tell him everything would be okay, he wanted Arthur to know how much he was loved, he wanted to laugh with him; Arthur... Alfred was just so lonely.
"Hello?" Arthur spoke up in case the latter didn't hear him, but Alfred did. He always listens to him. He had just zoned out thinking about him.
"Hey! Yo Artie, what's up!?" he shouted into the phone just like he was like that all the time, like he wasn't lonely, and like he didn't call just to hear his voice.
"How many times do I have to tell you? My names Arthur you git!" Arthur sounded a bit angry, like always, and he wondered if it was all his fault that h was always so angry. He smiled this time but the pain was obvious this time before he changed demeanors again and laughed obnoxiously.
"Whatever you say Iggie!" America shouted back and laughed as he changed it to another nicknamed he hated, but the American had to act childish. "Anyways, wanna come over and watch a movie with me?" Alfred unconsciously sat forward and ran a hand through his hair anxiously waiting for his response.
"Really America? Why the bloody hell do you ask me everytime? Why don't you ask one of your other friends like Japan? You know I have a life unlike you?! I just want to be left alone for once!" Alfred was stunned, he hadn't expected that kind of response from the Brit and not that harsh of a tone. He felt his stomach get uneasy as each word started to set in his head. And fingers that once gripped the phone were now growing weaker with each passing second; infect his who body was. Ask one of my other friends? Japan? He secluded himself after his last visit with him... His brother? He was too scared that his twin would notice something off with him; often, he would pretend he couldn't even see him with the rest of the allies. But he always noticed him and cared about him, but he didn't want a confrontation or to get too close with him. Who else? No one, he was all alone. The only thing he had was Arthur, and that was too far out of reach.
"America," he heard Arthur's soft apologetic voice through the line. "I'm so sorry I-" but I couldn't let him continue, he was on the verge of tears and his hear had been shattered. He needed this conversation to end quickly.
"T-thats alright!" he quickly interrupted him, noticing his mistake he tried to compose himself more. He was America, a big strong country and an innocent childish guy. "The hero never feels bad!" the golden haired man actually believed that statement, and so he had to live up to it. But it didn't help to hold in his emotions which were about to spill over. He could just hear England's voice filled with such hatred when he spoke to him before. So that was how he really felt about him... And Alfred never thought it would hurt this much.
"America?" the blonds voice seemed to be concerned, concerned about what? No, no, no. He can't find out! But he couldn't be concerned about him anyways, right? Either way he had to get out of this situation fast.
"Ah, I'm starving Artie! I have to go, bye!" he quickly shouted the first excuse and hung up. His now weak hands finally gave up and the phone slipped from his hands shattering on the ground. His body next began to lose its battle for strength and he collapsed to the ground in a sobbing mess. He had lost it; all the strength he had, gone. And all because of one man. Was it a sin to love another man this much? It felt like it; all the American got in return for loving him was just getting pushed back, getting hurt. Why was it so hard?
His once bright innocent blue eyes that held so much happiness were so different now, what would his younger self think of him now? What would England think of him? Now dull blue pained eyes saw nothing but blurs as tears still spilt furiously. As if his hands were covered in blood he stared at them furiously, but then his hands soon went to his head. He was so hurt, he just wanted Arthur, but he hated Alfred so much. A scream ripped through the air, it was so pained; the most heart wrenching noise anyone could have ever heard. The supposedly strong powerful nation sat there in tears rocking himself back and forth.
"England." he let the name slip a couple of times in between his tears. It was like he was cursed. Could you imagine being so close to the person you loved and cared for the most, but they didn't like you back. But no, that was only part of the curse; he had to live with this situation longer than anyone. Most humans can't live over a hundred years, they couldn't understand, and Alfred's love was undying. Do you know how many normal peoples lifetimes he's went through? It would be absolutely horrible to go through this.
He used to think that he could actually be helped. He believed in his people as he went to new doctors every year or less trying to find a solution to his problem. Each doctor he went to really tried to help him, and he tried to believe them, but none ever found a solution to help him. He had tried at least a thousand different solutions and many different kinds of medicines. He tried anti depressants, post traumatic stress disorder, anxiety, and multiple personality disorder; just anything that he thought could possible work. But who could help a country? No one. It has been a couple years since he tried to get help, he had given up. But he still tried some of the pills when he felt like this, he already took one today.
He slowly stood up, almost collapsing a few times. He stood there swaying lightly trying to gain control of his body. But it only took a few seconds before a wave of anger hit him.
"How could you be so stupid!?" screaming to himself his arms whipped across the table clearing the contents on it. Papers floated throughout the air and dishes shattered across the floor, the kitchen now covered in paper and glass. The distressed man squeezed his eyes shut as to shut out the world and his hands flew to his hair as he squeezed it and screamed as if it would all be better soon. Of course it did nothing to comfort him.
"God damnit," he yelled again and looked around the kitchen to see all of the damage. He tried to wipe the saltwater from his eyes to see but his eyes refused to let that happen as more tears fell from his eyes.
"Pills," he murmured as he got sight of the living room door, he needed to get to the bathroom. He tried to steady himself as he tried to make it to the living room stepping over all the glass and paper on the floor.
You know I have a life unlike you
Words, too many words were echoing through his head, all the hurtful things that England said. As the American tried to make his way towards the living room he winced as they went through his head, each time adding more weight he was under. He was shaking; this was too much for his frail mind.
Although the living room was messy from the lack of cleaning, it was still in much better shape than the kitchen; for now. It only took a couple of seconds being in the carpeted room for him to lose control again. It was like everything was finally catching up with him and forcing too much pain on him at once. It took one more taunt, and his fist moved instinctively into the wall. He looked at the wall and removed his fist not caring that he had just busted through the wall.
Fresh blood leaked from his hand, but he didn't care. It was like nothing else mattered anymore; he never felt this alone before. What was there to care about? The Lovely British man he fell for didn't like him; and right now, that's all that mattered.
"Of course he doesn't like you!" he felt a bitter smile form on his lips and a cold chuckle came, it was so unbecoming on him. Of course he doesn't like you. He felt so hurt inside, Oh Arthur…
He let out a moan of frustration as he took it out on all the items in the room. Many things were thrown off tables, some broken items were shattered on the floor; things were all astray in the more than messy living room.
"I need those fucken pills!" He groaned and his hand gripped his head. His head pounded and he felt it getting worse by the second; not only that but his stomach wasn't feeling too well either. He wasn't supposed to feel this way, what happened to the 'great and powerful' nation? Honestly, he didn't really know himself. He just thought it was England, but there were other problems going on in his country that affected him too.
He slowly started to climb the stairs, clinging to railing like it was the only thing had left. Although the railing was practically the only thing supporting his body, he slowly made his way up. Stumbling over his feet once and a while and almost collapsing a couple times, it was quite impressive at he actually made it.
As he reached the top, he felt it. His hand flew to his stomach, as if that did anything, and he tried to run to the small guest bathroom. He shoved open the door and quickly knelt down putting his face in the toilet. But as soon as he did the sensation went away. His fists clenched and he forced his eyes shut, oh god, I'm in so much pain. Help me.. Not even closing his eyes could stop the tears, down his face they went. Drop. He heard the first of his many tears fall into the toilet as the pace of the drops because quicker and heaver. Hands relaxing, he brought them to his face rubbing his eyes furiously. His face, was so damp. Heavy with tears. He was such a failure, his mind flashed quickly to some occasions.
"Oh god." He sobbed desperately "I'm a murderer!" So many people he killed, even innocent people. People with families! Good people! He shook his head. "No, no. No." he mumbled. I deserve this. Every single thing. He finally realized why all his life was hard. Why the only person he loved hated him. Why he never got any love from anyone. Why he was so alone.
His body was heavy with all the realization of everything, but it somehow was able to get him up on both feet again. His hands clenched the edge of the sink as he tried to regain his strength to stand. His hand went up to open the cabinet, but then he saw it. The most disgusting thing ever, it was something that no one should know, it was so repulsive, a waste of space! He visibly grew tense and a fist quickly flew to it. The mirror instantly shattered, the reflection distorted and damaged. He drew his fist back as his body started to shake and stay at an uneven pace.
He quickly opened the cabinet, and looked at the many pill that littered the shelves. He started to dig through them, knocking some into the sink while doing so. 'Anti-depressant' he opened the bottle and took a couple before digging in the cabinet for more. Did he even need them? He didn't even deserve to be here, why should he try to help himself? He grabbed some other different kinds of pills as he took a couple of each. Can countries die? If he took enough pills, could he? He was taken more than he had before, this many would kill a human, what about him? He let out a chilling laugh, he was starting to get tired. He took his last group of pills before he decided to go to bed.
He slowly walked himself to his room, not even bothering to turn the bathroom light off, not that it mattered to him either. He looked at his bed, all made for him to sleep and he just passed out on the bed.
Thank you for reading and please critique! I would love that because it's my first ff and it would encourage me. Have a nice day!