It was just another boring day in the life of good old England. The blond Brit reclined in one of his plush chairs, the wooden frame creaking beneath his small frame. Outside the rain fell rather harshly, it only added to his depression.
"Damn this weather," he sipped his tea, which he may or may not have mixed with his own special brew.
Whenever the weather took a turn for the worst England always felt at his lowest point. His mystical friends always seemed to show up less when storms were brewing. So he was all alone with only his (possibly alcoholic) tea and his own thoughts.
His mind wandered to a certain blond-haired, blue-eyed American. England wondered what that idiot was up to right now. Was he sitting in a dark room, playing some new video game for hours upon hours? Perhaps he was at his favorite restaurant with an absurdly large mountain of hamburgers. Or maybe he was out with friends... Maybe he was even getting lucky with some sap... England tried to push away the throbbing close in his chest.
"Get a hold of yourself!" He pushed himself out of his chair and began to wander around his home. There was no way in Hell he was going to spend another minute fretting over America. That moronic, egotistical, obese, lazy, carefree, good looking... Wait what?
"Nope! Nope! Not falling for that," England yelled at no in particular. "Dear God," he groaned and rubbed his unkept hair. "I'm losing my mind. I'm losing my bloody mind."
In a last ditch effort to ward off his loneliness he turned on his television. It was some fluff piece on the local news. Something about a puppy or a kid or whatever. Either way it did not interest the brooding nation in the slightest. But for lack of better entertainment he left the channel on. If he was just going to laze about today he should at least try to keep up to date on current events. It was his duty as a nation after all.
About halfway through the five o'clock news England's phone rang.
"Good afternoon," he tried to sound as gentlemanly as possible. "This is the Kirkland residence."
"Oh hon hon hon! How polite of you, mon ami!" The french man's laugh played through the phone and into the Brit's ear. Pure loneliness was the only thing keeping him from hanging up on the pervert.
"And what gives me the pleasure of your call, frog?" England's teeth gritted together as he tried not to spit out the words too vehemently.
"Oh hon hon! Do I intrigue you?" God, England really hated that laugh. "Well, if you must know... I have decided to give all the pretty ladies of your lovely nation a present. My love!" England mentally groaned.
"And pray tell, why did you call me? I've told you over and over again. I'm not going to be your wingman!" If that stupid frog actually thought the noble nation of England was going to help a pervert bed desperate women, then he was even more mental than England had previously suspected.
"Oh, calm down. I am perfectly capable of winning woman over on my own! What female could withstand my charming good looks and pure French charm?" He laughed again, this time it almost lasting a full minute.
"Pure French charm, my ass! Now will you please tell me why you're calling, or I'm hanging up the phone right now!" England's eye brows furrowed together in frustration.
"Fine, fine," he prattled on. "I was just wanting to run a play by you before I try it."
"What happened to pure French charm?"
"Shush and listen!" He took a deep breath in. Better be good, the British man thought."Okay! Do you think British ladies would be intrigued if I referred to my penis as Big Ben? Or do you think that's too strong?"
"Oh god, you're serious aren't you," England groaned. The urge to hang up the phone was growing.
"Is that your thing? You wouldn't mind if I used it, right?" Nope, nope! England did not want to have this conversation. Ever! "You have to admit, I can pass it off as Big Ben! Oh hon hon hon!"
Nope! Not doing this today! He slammed the phone down before that frog could violate his mind anymore!
The phone rang once more. "Not answering," England called out. It continued ringing. There was no way England was giving into that stupid frog's plans. And England did hold his ground... Until five full minutes of unceasing ringing.
When the sixth minute rolled around, the blond had enough. With enough ferocity to rival even Germany's, he grabbed the phone. "YOU BETTER STOP CALLING! THERE IS NO WAY IN HELL I AM ANSWERING ANY FUCKING QUESTIONS ABOUT YOUR PENIS! YOU STUPID FROG!" With his breath spent, he went to hang up the phone.
"Well hello to you, too." The lazy American accent caused England to freeze up. "Dude, I really need to talk to you, but-"
"No, no. Sorry America. France was just being himself." England tried his best 'to keep his cool' as America would say.
"Naw, it's cool," he laughed casually, causing England's heart to thump wildly.
Come on! Don't be like that, England tried to distract himself from what was obviously a superficial crush.
"So why are you calling me, America?" He tried to sound as nonchalant as possible.
"Um, nothing... Just thought I should call you. Ya know how it is?" He laughed, but it sounded a little off beat.
"I can assure you that I have no idea of 'how it is'," England sighed, wishing the erratic thumping in his chest would cease.
"Well after that last world meeting," England's blood ran cold. "I just sorta wanted to talk about it. And-"
"No. No, we are not talking about... that. It would be best just to forget about all that. I was drunk and I cannot be held accountable for anything said." Was it getting hotter in his house or was it just him? England pulled at the collar of his shirt.
"But England!" The American whined like a child. "I just wanted-"
"America, I refuse to talk about it!" The heat was rushing to England's face and turning it a radish red.
"But Iggy!" He whined even louder.
"No, I refuse! And that's not my name!" England regretted that last meeting. Why did he agree to go out drinking with France?
"Fine," he grumbled like a small child. England couldn't help, but smile at the childishness.
"What are you even doing at this hour?" England didn't want another one of their conversations ending in an argument. He took a sip of his (now cold) tea.
"Just waiting around for an ambulance," he said as if it was an average event.
"WHAT?!" England's tea was now soaked all over his livingroom. "What the hell are you doing!?"
"Woah, calm down! I'm fine... I think." He laughed his 'heroic' laugh, trying to play fine.
"What the hell happened?" England growled over the phone. "I swear if I'm talking to you while you have a broken leg again... You really need to take car of yourself!"
"You're such a worry wart! Dude, I always take care of myself!" England could hear an underlying waver in his voice.
"What did you do this time, you git? Was it stair surfing with a mattress again? I've told you time and time again that it will not turn out any better no matter how many times you do it!" England rubbed his temples, fighting an oncoming migraine. I swear my hair is going to turn grey if he keeps that up...
"Naw, I just got hit by a car. But I really should try that mattress surfing again. I think I figured out what went wrong," the American continued on about his misadventures as England simply stared at the floor. Fuck grey hair, I'm going to go freaking bald!
England seemed to find his voice again. "You were hit by a car?" He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to 'freak out'. "Are you okay," he breathed.
"Huh? Yeah, I think so... Nobody is letting me move, something about shock and stuff. There's not too much blood and I feel all numb and stuff, so... Yeah!" He laughed like the moron he was.
Forget about not yelling, England was about to break his phone. "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, YOU BLOODY GIT?! YOU ARE BLEEDING AND NUMB AND YOU THINK NOTHING IS WRONG?! WHERE ARE YOU? I'M COMING OVER TO WHATEVER HOSPITAL YOU'RE STAYING AT AND I'M GOING TO SMACK SOME FUCKING SENSE INTO THAT HARD SKULL OF YOURS!" He paused to take a breath. "Tell me how damaged your car is."
"Oh, yeah... I wasn't in a car..." America waited for the Brit to freak out again. "See there was this kid in the road and this huge truck coming for him. It wasn't slowing or nothing, so being the awesome hero I am, I saved him!" He laughed at his heroic deed.
God damn bloody Americans and their bloody hero complexes.
"Uh, Arthur? You still there?" America's voice slightly hushed. "Um, the ambulance is going to be here soon and I still need to talk to you. I mean I know heros don't die, but I still want to tell you something just in case..."
"Shut up," England jumped up, ready to catch the earliest flight to America.
"No, I need to tell you something. I've been meaning to tell you since that last world meeting. Arthur, I-"
"Shut up! You can tell me in person!" England fought off tears that were welling up in his eyes.
"But Arthur, I might not be able to-"
"Alfred! There is no way you are leaving me!" He could hear sirens starting to wail in the distance.
"Arthur," the American whimpered over the phone, begging England to let him say what needed to be said.
"Alfred F. Jones. You are not dying. And if you think you are, then you are a bigger idiot than I thought. Now I will personally swim the ocean just to yell at you, so you better be in tiptop shape when I get there!"
America seemed to try to say something, but the wail of sirens and yells of people drowned him out. Then the line cut, leaving nothing but silence playing over the phone.
England looked down, fat tears rolling down his face and falling off his chins. He watched as they plopped the ground.
This was Alfred F. Jones, king of all idiots. He swung buffalo around when he was a toddler. He once dragged Britain's car around for an hour without breaking a sweat. There was no way that he was going to die.
"Heros don't die. Heros don't die," he quietly repeated to himself.
Okay! This is my first UsUk piece... Actually it's my first yoai piece! Hopefully this turns out well, I wrote this whole thing on an iPad. Hope I did well for a first chapter. This was actually based off a story I wrote for a creative writing piece. Enjoy!