It was dark. It was always dark...
He had to fight it. He had to fight back the darkness. Because...
Why did he fight it? Because he was the hero?
...
No...
He wasn't the hero...
Not anymore...
So why did he fight it? Why didn't he just sink into it? Let it take over.
It would be so much easier... So much easier...
If he could just die...
England growled as he placed the bent paper clip in his pocket and opened the door. As usual, the house inside was messy. However, it was different from the usual. Instead of just wrappers and empty food boxes, there was un-eaten food slowly rotting. England blanched at the horrible smell and decided not to go into the kitchen.
This was not at all like his former charge. Sure, America was a slob, but not to this degree. The fact that his living quarters had reached this state of neglect only increased England's worries. The young nation hadn't been to a meeting for a year and a half now, so England had volunteered himself to go check on him. He did his best to tidy the room, not able to do much without a garbage can.
"America! Are you here?"England called into the house, receiving silence as a reply.
The English nation frowned and moved deeper into the house, shivering as the temperature seemed to drop. This was something else that was unusual. Thanks to the influence of the person living inside the house, the place always seemed to be bursting with energy and life. Now, the windows were dirty or had the blinds pulled down and the only light that was on, the hallway light, slowly flickered then died as England walked toward America's room.
England opened the door then jumped back putting a hand over his mouth and nose. The room inside was completely dark and stank of bodily waste and death. England took a deep breath through his mouth, then stepped into the room, much more used to the smell than even most nations were. He searched the wall for a light switch then growled as he flicked it with no results. Apparently the light in this room had long since burned out.
England pulled his shirt up and over his mouth and moved across the room, subconsciously staying away from the bed, and over to the other side. He trailed his free hand across the wall and sighed in relief when he found the string for the blinds and light flooded the room. However, the sigh quickly turned into a strangled gasp of disbelief. Laying on the bed, breathing softly, was America in the worst state the older nation had ever seen him in. He hadn't even looked that bad during his civil war or 9/11.
His normally soft, dark blonde hair was dark and matted with filth, his glasses were covered in a thick layer of dust, his clothes were horrendously dirty, his face was drawn with exhaustion even though he was unconscious and England could tell that he had lost weight from where he was standing. The old nation stepped forward, but gagged when he realized the stench was coming from the nation on the bed. England looked over and, by the stains on the bed, guessed the blue eyed boy had been laying in that same spot for quite some time. Taking another deep breath through his mouth, England stepped forward and stood silently at the side of the bed. With a grimace of disgust, England forced himself to grasp America's shoulder and shook him harshly.
"America. Wake up."England demanded.
After a second heavy eyelids slowly fluttered open revealing yet another depressing sight. The American's usually lively, bright, sky blue eyes were dull and lifeless showing no expression as he looked at the ceiling. Slowly the younger nation turned his eyes from the ceiling to the nation beside him. A brief flicker of emotion passed through the blue depths but was gone before England could catch it. America's lips moved, but no sound came out, so England bent down closer despite the smell.
"What was that?"He asked.
"-O... Away..."America said in a raspy, unused voice.
"What- Of course I'm not going to leave you like this, git! Have all those hamburgers finally destroyed your brain?"England straightened up and put his hands on his hips, glaring despite the worry in his eyes.
America just looked back at the ceiling and made another emotionless demand."Leave me... alone."
"I'm bloody well not going to leave you alone. Look at the state your in! You need a bath!"England now let his worry show, to surprised to hide it.
That surprise grew when the nation on the bed started softly crying, so much pain showing in his eyes that England's heart constricted painfully and tears pricked at his own acid green eyes.
"J-just go away... L-leave me alone... I j-just want to g-go already... I don't w-want to be here anymore."America's voice grew louder as he spoke and England stepped back from the bed."Why won't they just let me go? I hate this! I hate being a nation! I hate America! Nobody needs me! Nobody wants me! I just want to die, so why won't they let me go!"
England stared with wide eyes as the tears quickly stopped and dried leaving tracks through the grime on his face and the pain left his eyes blank once again. England took a deep shuddering breath, understanding immediately. America had given up. England had done the same thing after the revolution, but his pride as a nation had made him pick himself up after only a month. He wasn't sure, but England guessed America had been here since at least the last meeting he'd gone to.
Which meant he'd been lying in that bed for nearly a year and a half. England grimaced in disgust again and stepped towards the motionless nation.
"Get up."England demanded the same way he'd told him to wake up.
When America didn't respond, he grabbed him and forced him onto his feet, surprised at how light he was. England held his breath, the stench worse than ever, and led America to the bathroom. England sat the despondent nation on the toilet and turned on the tub, making sure the water was hot enough before blocking the drain. As the water rises he began undressing the American, not even bothering to waste his breath ordering him to strip. When he finished, he helped him back up and sat him in the water.
England stopped the water and left America in the bath, hurrying down the stairs. He pulled his shirt over his nose again and braved the kitchen to find food. Even though he had barely looked, America's body showed just how bad his health was. He had lost so much weight it seemed every bone in his body jutted out against his skin. England shuddered then looked over the kitchen in horror.
Scattered across the floor were broken dishes and globs of rotting food. The table was tipped over and only two of the chairs were still upright. Any dishes that weren't on the floor were in the sink and on the counter, covered in rotten food. England didn't expect there to be any good food, but he looked through the fridge and cupboards anyways. To his surprise there was a good can of soup along with a few clean pans, bowls and spoons.
After he put the soup in a pot and set it on the stove and turned up the heat. England reached the bathroom and his eyes widened in horror when he saw America had let himself slip under the water. The older nation ran forward and pulled the younger out. When he didn't breath for a few minutes, England panicked and smacked him across the face. To his relief and surprise America gasped and coughed, coming back to life.
"What the bloody hell is wrong with you?! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"England asked, glaring at him.
America surprised him once again by bursting into loud sobs, tears streaming down his face. England sighed and began cleaning him. He had to empty out the tub five times before America was clean, but finally England nodded with satisfaction and emptied the water before leaving the room to find the American clean clothes. He came back and dried the nation off with a towel before dressing him in a white tee shirt and old blue jeans. America was still crying, but his sobs had quieted to small cries that nearly broke England's heart.
England took America's arm and led him downstairs to the kitchen. He sat him down in a chair and went to check the soup, but was stopped by a hand on his wrist. He looked back to the crying America who wasn't looking at him, but kept a firm grip on his wrist. England sighed again and gently took the hand off his wrist before kneeling in front of America and wrapping his arms around him in a gentle hug. America breath hitched and he began to sob again, though it was quieter this time, as England gently ran his fingers through his hair.
"It's going to be okay, love. I'll take care of you."England promised in a soft voice.
Despite everything that had happened between them, England was determined to keep that promise. England didn't know how the nation before him had been so utterly broken. He was one of the strongest nations in the world and always seemed to be full of life and happiness. He was going to find out what happened to his former brother. Then, he was going to fix him.
So, this is probably the most depressing fanfic I have ever written. Strangely enough, it's also my favorite. It was meant to be a one-shot, but then the little plot bunny that hopped into my head last night grew and then it called all it's little plot bunny friends and they grew to. Now, it's a multi-chapter fic filled with depressed America. I guess I'll explain a few things, now.
The italics-America's thoughts when the light burned out and pretty much his thoughts period.
The paper clip-England pick-locked his way into America's house. He used to be a delinquent. What can I say? X3
civil war, 9/11-Just a couple of dates I could think of when America would be in really bad shape. I may also write fics for them. We shall see!
Why won't they let me go-America is referring to his citizens. To me, it's not when the country dies that a nation dies, it's when it's people stop seeing themselves as citizens of that country. Which is why Prussia is still around.
The stench-He's been sitting in that bad without moving for a year and a half. There's gonna be a stench.
America coming back to life-Okay, time for me to contradict myself. Something I will probably do often. Nations can die, but they come back to life.
I know. America is OOC. He's also depressed, though. Like, majorly. Basically, he has given up. This whole fic will be about England giving America a reason to live. That's all. R&R!