It is a rainy afternoon. Because it is always a rainy afternoon for him, and England looks up at the sky.
What he had done was very unfair. He should have gone there to tell him that in person. Like he has done so many other times before, for so many useless things.
'Tie your shoes. Fix your tie.'
And underneath all his nagging was always the whisper. 'Don't leave me. Don't leave me, please.'
He should have at least had the strength to say it aloud.
But he didn't, and so he had sent a message.
'I think I love you'
Because, even now he doesn't know. Is it longing? Is it yearning? Is it just this obsessive need to see the light reflected in America's blue eyes and feel the warmth of his skin?
Or is it love?
He thinks it is. But in the end he was too afraid of even getting an answer, so he crushed the cell phone under the heel of his boot right after sending that message.
The ground vibrates under his feet, sending a signal of terror through his mind.
"What the fuck are you doing?!" yells America, running at him while the pavement crumbles under his steps.
England steps back, wanting to flee, and wanting to stay, and succeeding only in not moving.
"Why did you send me that message?!" demands America, dripping wet.
England opens his mouth. 'Because I think I love you, and it's a feeling that haunts me all night, every night' he wants to say. But he doesn't.
"Tie your shoes, you're going to trip," he says. Because that is the only way he can say it.
'I love you.'
Notes:
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