Hey you guys! Sooo...I like totally got this idea from who-knows-where...and I got it done , it's not done though. There will be part 2 coming pretty soon. My first time writing something with that darker, serious, and emo side of our dear America. Well, I hope you enjoy reading, I'm taking any corrections or advices, regarding language('cos I'm not native speaker) or regarding story. So please leave the review with your suggestions, ideas, opinios...with whatever you feel like writing. Thank you!
England had always known America well. The best of all, he'd say. So of course he had noticed something have been going on with usually cheerful nation. Not that America hadn't been cheerful. He was. But England could have sworn there was something different, no…strange with young blonde. Something he had been forcefully hiding from others. Including England himself.
Hell he did knew that USA had been in 'deep shit', how America himself was calling his bad economical situation. But his-father-brother-like person, England, could tell there was another thing bothering America. And if the git wasn't going to tell, he'd just have to ask himself.
So, after one especially boring meeting, he waited for others to leave and then approached his former colony.
''America, wait up please.''
Blue eyes behind glasses surprised looked at the British nation.
''Sure. What's up England? '' he asked casually, folding some papers into his bag. England wasn't sure how to ask, so he just decided to go to the main topic immediately.
Not that he actually did it.
''How have you been lately?'' he asked, stuttering awkwardly. But he convinced himself that any proper gentleman should ask this before turning to the main subject of conversation.
America just blinked, not smiling.
''Why are you asking? Wanna chat 'bout the weather or what? You know damn well how I've been doin'!''
That was the first ''base'', would say England later, recalling the conversation. America had always been straightforward, but to have him respond like that was certainly unusual. England furrowed his oversized eyebrows.
''I mean you, America. You.'' He clarified. Surprisingly enough, American laughed. But not his well-known heroic laughter, but a rather sarcastic one.
Base two.
''Me? Who's that?'' he pointed out his thoughts with a suddenly chilling look probing England, who swallowed hardly. What was meaning of this?
''What do you mean? Isn't it obvious?''
''Nope. I've actually no idea who I am…''
That left the island nation shocked. Was there another civil war happening in the States?
''…or what I am.'' Added America quietly. England's green orbs carefully scanned the nation in front of him, desperately trying to find some clue, the slightest hint of what was going on.
''Explain.'' He said finally. America sighed.
''Recently, I've been wondering. What are we?'', he looked at his hand, moving fingers,'' I mean…we are made of bones, flash and blood. We feel cold, hunger, we can bleed. Even die. We're not gods.''
England stayed quiet. This was getting quite disturbing. What has happened with the America he knew, the one that didn't really care about anything else that heroic acts, hamburgers and console games? He did not know, just waiting for America to continue.
''..but, as you know, we don't really age. We just expand, grow. Our health, feelings, even physical state are affected by our people, our country. Hence, we're not humans either. 'he dropped his hand and looked directly into older nation's eyes.
''Makes us pretty messed up creatures of nature, hm?''
England stood there, breathlessly, terrified for a moment. What happened to his little boy? America, of all people…no, of all nations, having these thoughts…it was his duty to make that young nations feel better. To comfort him, to clear his clouded mind and soul.
''We're nations, America. We were made to be just what you described. That's who we are. That's your answer.''
The teen was unsatisfied with that kind of answer though.
''That's bullshit and you know it! …that's who we are? Like if! Haven't you ever felt that emptiness, like you don't belong anywhere? We are? No, we're not!'' his voice was loud, but shaking slightly.
''We have no real life. We don't have a real family, real job , heck, we don't even have real names!''
As much as he was confused and shocked, England have to admit that America was right. Partially. He had felt like this before. But that was long ago. Too many years ago for him to actually care anymore.
''We are born to be nations. We're personification of all of our people. Of their hearts, thoughts, fears. We live for them. Isn't that enough for you?''
''No! It isn't!'' America snapped at him.
'' I want to live for myself! I want to sing our anthem in the crowd with them …'', he put his palm on his chest, just where his heart was,'' and then go home to my own family. Live everyday life, for a few decades, not for fuckin' centuries!'' he sounded as desperate as England felt right now. He knew that almost every country had this kind of thoughts and feelings from time to time, yet he felt like he was unable to relieve the burden of America's shoulders. And just when he opened his mouth to say something-maybe comforting words- it was too late.
''To be, or not to be; that's the point…'' told him America, then he took his bag, passed by England, and stopped in front of the door.
'',..and we're not…'' he repeated his words from earlier and stormed out of the room.
It took England a few minutes to comprehend what had just happen. Still, he didn't believe it. And later on, he came to the conclusion that America had solved this himself, since he was appearing just normally on every of the (often) occasions he saw him. It laid his mind to peace.
Only for it to be paralyzed even more, by what had yet to come.
-to be continued-
