so I'm sorry for mmistakes ect. I haven't written fanfic in a few years... this was based off both England leaving the EU (not majorly based) and a doujinshi I read (again it was lightly based ) so I used it for inspiration. I don't know how many chapters there will be but I would love reviews ~ have a good day! Disclaimer, I don't own hetalia or the characters.
During the early morning, just as the sun light leaked through the windows and crawled their way onto the furniture, heating the trail it left. A dull blonde male; who wore a scrawny body, riddled with scars and an unforetold past laid, rested in bed. Yet something was peculiar with the male. He had brisk movements, one which showed panic. His body was mimicking his sheets, twisted and out of place, showing discomfort. Sweat poured from every pour, nevertheless it wasn't from pleasure, it was from a searing pain of the male's heart and even though he was sweating profoundly, his lips were chapped, cracking from dehydration.
This gentleman was also known under the title of England. Of course, he was known by other under the names of thinks like the UK, United Kingdom or Arthur Kirtland. However, unlike the titles he is placed under, he wasn't at his normal personality of being an aggressive, bad language, straight forward man.
Yes, this normally lively nation, was turned into a pathetic state of a quivering mess being haunted by his past and future. Recently, England (pursuing the wishes of his boss) had decided that the best thing for himself and his people was to leave the EU. Despite this, the country took a large turn and the mess which was left for them to clean up was too great of a toll on Arthur's body, sending him straight into a sea of darkness, filled with affliction and torment. Due to bring a country and not technically human, the doctors could only suggest that he was bed ridden until his body could once again cope with the pressure and loss. Yet, the future showed a lack of hope when each candidate was suddenly leaving, not wanting to clean up each others mess and themselves not being able to answer the crowd of the country.
So, all the male could do was allow his body to be soaked into the warmth of the sun, while sinking deeper into the abyss of his mind. Releasing a silent plea to the world, and unconsciously asking for the one person he would never admit to wanting.
'America~'
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Across the other side of the world was a younger male, one who was the opposite to Arthur, while still being a county, he was blessed with golden tanned skin and honey hair to match. He spotted a brown bomber jacket, embroidered with the number 50 across the back. His personality was one often compared to a child's, with his way of not being able to read the situation, and taking the majority of things as a joke with no real intention, it was easy to recognise him for these things among the other nations. This was no other than the hero among the nations, The United States of America.
To his dismay and in contrast to his personality he found himself behind a large amount of paper work (mostly from him putting in off to do other business, mainly video games).
Mumbling incompetent words and a string of curses to his boss, he settled the pen in his hand once more, trying to find a more comfortable position in order to prevent blisters.
When a obnoxious ring interrupted his train of thought, and after a deathly glare was shot at said phone, he took it upon himself to answer it.
"What do you want? Wasn't it you who wanted me to slave away and do work all day?" He rambled, leaving no word for interjection.
"Really, if I should be forced to do this then I want food, and not just any! I want burgers! 10... no, not enough, 25!... What?" Nearing the end of his speech, he was captured by surprise, for the mess he received wasn't one he was expecting, nor did he want it.
Hopping out of his chair and brushing past stacks of papers, , sending them into whirlpools. He scurried to find his hat before discovering it and placing it on his head, and rushing out of the door, leaving disaster in his after math.
Though there was only one thought rushing through his head.
'Don't leave me again, you bastard'
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Back to the Englishman, he was plagued by an old memory. Although it wasn't a bad memory, no this was one he actually held dear to his heart, saving it .
After closing his eyes, he suddenly had an urge to open them again, which was unusual. After all, only moments ago he was desperate for a peaceful sleep. Upon opening his eyes, he was somewhere he knew, yet at the same time he didn't. From the looks of the area, he was in the kitchen, his own to be precise. Yet there was something off about this, it wasn't the kitchen he had now , no it was one he had owned almost 5 centuries ago (idk when America was born or how old England is so I'm guessing =_= correct me at will).
"Hey! England, the scones are going to burn!"
Funnily enough, if he thought his ears had betrayed him, then his sight did too. There, standing in the door way of the kitchen, was a tiny America. One which showed his youth and nation in the body of a child. One which he looked after and raised, until that day.
"England? Are you ok?" America muttered in worry, not knowing what was wrong with the person he cared for.
"Ah! I'm sorry America, my mind was away with the fairies, I do hope you accept my apologies." Crouching down to the child, he mustered his best smile in an attempt to get rid of the worry in the child and uncertainty in himself.
"But England..." The smaller nation looked to the side.
"hmm?"
"The scones..."
And with that only one word was left present in the older country's mind.
Shit.
