HELLO THERE! I don't have much to say. In fact why do I even have an author's note? Hm? Oh well. I guess I'll just go with the basics. I like this anime. I got an idea for this anime. I made this story. EH?! You're still reading this?! Okay guess you want more? Hmmm? What? Where did I get the idea? Well, I just got this idea listening to this song on the radio. WHOA! STILL READING! Well, here is some good news: the story is much better than this horrid author's note. XD Hope you like it! Thanks!
England liked to believe he wasn't the sentimental type. He liked to think he was strong-willed, courageous, independent, and not one to succumb to his emotions. But this was the same man who cried at the end of Marley and Me. Still, he liked to think he was a wall of steel and nothing could faze him. Nothing could shake him, not even losing his best friend.
Britain noticing the tapping on the window. The weather was atrocious today. I'd been raining for the last few days incessantly. He'd even begun to match the rhythm of his breathing with the rain on the roof. He was reading when it occurred to him. How the silence echoed in the house. It was almost deafening.
I can take the rain on the roof of this empty house.
That don't bother me.
He took another sip of tea and tried concentrating on the book he was reading.
"Ni-san!" He heard.
England's ears perked up. He looked around. Nothing. Thunder cracked. He got up and closed the curtains. He found a flashlight in case the power went out and returned to his reading chair.
For a moment there he thought he'd heard- no. He knew better than that. It couldn't possibly- no. Never.
America was in his own country. And all grown up. Independent is what he called it. England looked at the calendar as he had countless times today.
July 4, 2014
How…American. He thought. England smiled a bit. You did like to be over-the-top, didn't you? An entire day dedicated to the separation of his brother. It was complete with lots of food, big family celebrations, sparklers, and of course the brilliant array of fireworks. In a way, it was his birthday. Yet another thing to add to his ego.
England chuckled to himself in spite of it. Such fond memories of them running around the house together and laughing. England laughed aloud. So much he felt his sides ache. He wiped away a tear, but more came. He realized he wasn't crying form laughter, but continued to smile anyway.
I can take a few tears now and then and just let 'em out.
I'm not afraid to cry every once in a while even though goin' on with you gone still upsets me.
America was the grown up he always wanted to be. But why? What was it for? They acted like brothers, didn't they? They still saw each other regularly. Traded with one another. Argued, laughed, and every once in a while had a beer or two (or too many rather).
It was if that fighting never happened. All that did happen was that America had gotten sloppy. That's right. He was lost without him! Utterly lost!
England gulped down tea, wishing it were something stronger. That's right! Lost! He thought to himself. Even gotten a bit chubby. He'll have a heart attack if he keeps eating those cheeseburgers every single day.
Britain knew that America still needed him! Right…right? Please. Still need me.
There are so many quotes about war and about love and brotherhood yet he couldn't think of a single one. All he knew what hard work was meant to yield an equal value. But War doesn't believe in that philosophy.
He fought so hard for it. He wanted it more than anything in the entire world, right? He gave it his all. But he still lost. Where was his equal value? Huh? What was his reward?
It rained that day. Just like today. It rained. It was if they sky was crying with him and it refused to cease even after the storm passed. Because even when America was celebrating and England smiled, Britain's heart still felt the clouds getting darker until they'd have to pour out.
There are days every now and again I pretend I'm okay.
But that's not what gets me.
He could almost taste the victory. He could almost feel it. For a moment he really wanted to punish him. For a second he almost killed him. But it was his baby brother! All he wanted was for him to come home again.
But he lost. He didn't get the luxury of choosing America's fate. Form now on, that was America's job. He was to stay out of it.
He'd even had a civil war. How it caused England so much grief to see his brother fighting himself. It was the same issue England had gone through, though America seemed to have a tougher job with it.
Through everything England just wanted to see him come through that door. He just wanted him to say "I love you, ni-san" one last time. Just once. Please...
England felt the tears coming again. And this time he didn't stop them. What was the point? No one would ever see them in this empty, lonely house.
What hurts the most
was being so close.
And having so much to say.
And watching you walk away.
And never knowing
what could have been.
And not seeing that love'n you
was what I was tryin' to do.
Oh, God, why?! The lad became so reckless! So much stronger, so much bigger, so much more…STUBBORN! What did he do to deserve this pain? Just give me a reason! He thought. Tell me what sin I committed to earn this punishment! Why did I have to lose him in order to atone for such a misdeed?
England clenched his face. He had to regain his composure. He couldn't allow himself to get lost in that pit of darkness. If he did, he'd wind up drinking. And he couldn't hold his liquor down very well. In fact, he was having trouble holding his tea down at the moment.
It's hard to deal with the pain of losing you everywhere I go.
But I'm doin' it.
England tried smiling. He had to smile. The alternative was facing his fear. And who would ever choose to do that?
So he had to keep acting calm. He had to play it like a waltz. He had to get up and keep going.
Still, his smile, America's smile, was the brightest smile he'd ever seen. It was a genuine smile of joy and ignorant bliss. Freedom. He thought. That must be what true freedom is like.
Bliss.
How we long for it. We don't even understand what we want until we taste it and then we want the whole meal. And we're willing to kill for it.
America, if I could just tell you what goes on in my mind. Maybe I could finally lift this weight off me. But then, I might soil that smile. Where would the bliss be? True freedom, right? I have to stay out of your life. I can no longer be a major event.
I'm a past relic. I'm not to interfere with your brilliant and shining future.
It's hard to force that smile when I see our old friends and I'm alone.
Still harder
getting up, getting dressed, livin' with this regret
but I know if I could do it over
I would trade give away all the words that I saved in my heart
that I left unspoken.
France!
It was all his fault! He wouldn't have lost if it weren't for his interference! England threw his cup across the room.
"Damn!" He screamed. He bent over himself and rustled his hair. "Damn." He whispered.
So much I said to you. Such terrible things I did. Yet that isn't what upset me. It's the things I can't take back. The words I never said.
In the end it isn't the things we did when we look back that cause us heartache. It's the things we didn't do. And what things England would've done. How he would've changed the past to mend the future.
England bit the bottom of his lip. I've lost everything. Haven't I? Even after all these years, I can't let it go. I just wanted to protect you. I wanted to be big brother forever. But you…you insisted! You fought me! You just had to be America the HERO!
Isn't it just brilliant, tough? England remembered seeing him on Veterans Day. He looked so serious, so righteous. A true hero. A powerful and wise young, country.
Didn't he just shine? Wasn't he just every shade of red and blue? The white stars above gleamed for only him that night. It was just bloody brilliant.
Britain sighed. I know you can be strong. I know you want to be the hero. I know…I know everything. So I'll gladly watch. But please…England felt himself choking up again. "Please", he said in a hushed whisper, as if he feared someone would hear him, "just don't kill yourself doing it."
What hurts the most
was being so close
And having so much to say (much to say).
And watching you walk away.
And never knowing
what could have been.
And not seeing that love'n you
was what I was trying to do, oh.
He heard a knock on the door. He covered himself in his blanket and wiped his eyes. He didn't bother looking in a mirror; he knew he looked like hell.
He knew who it was. It'd be the Prime Minister.
England would open the door and he'd waltz in. "Quite a storm, wouldn't you agree?" He'd say.
"You shouldn't be out in this weather," England would say.
"Oh, posh, it's the Fourth of July." He'd say in a sarcastic tone. "I know what trouble you put yourself through. I know you feel lonely."
England would sigh heavily. "It isn't necessary." He'd insist.
He already dreaded opening the door. Then he paused. What if?
England closed his eyes for a second. He then opened them so quickly he felt a bit dizzy as he quickly opened the door. Like ripping off a Band-Aid.
He'd caught the man in mid-knock and he seemed surprised by the sudden trust open of the door. "Uhhh…hey?" And all to familiar voice said.
England's eyes widened. He was speechless.
A tall figure in the doorway stood awkwardly. "I know it's kinda weird but I thought you might want to spend the Fourth with me? For old time's sake?"
America, his brother, was standing right in front of him.
He scratched the back of his head. "I can go if you-"
Britain didn't want to say anything anymore. He cut off America in mid-sentence and pulled his brother inside and held him close. Thank God, he said to himself, that you're with me.
Britain opened his eyes. He took in a sharp breath. It was time to stop reveling in the past…. and to stop fantasizing. Reality was waiting and so was the one knocking on the other side of his door.
England held his breath and he turned the knob. Clutching his other fist around the blanket he'd draped himself with and shutting his eyes close, he finally go the courage and opened the door.
Britain didn't see, he heard. The rain was falling. An umbrella unfolded and a sigh of relief came from the knocker. The footsteps of this figure walked inside. It could be anybody.
"Quite a storm, wouldn't you agree?" The Prime Minister said.
England opened his tired, old eyes and closed the door. "Yes," He said with a sigh. "One of the worst I've seen yet."
What hurts the most
was being so close.
And having so much to say (to say).
And watching you walk away.
And never knowing
what could have been.
And not seeing that love'n you
was what I was trying to do.
His pocket buzzed. Who was it at this hour? England thought. He answered the phone. Before he could say anything the one on the other line began blabbering. He was incoherently singing. Tone-deafly singing. The voice made Britain feel like he was losing brain cells.
"Britain!" He said in a loud shout that seemed slightly slurred.
He smiled. "Hello, America."
"It's one heck of a party!" He screamed. He sounded drunk. Was he?
"What's-"
"Niiiiiiii-sannnnnnn!" He sang.
Britain smiled a bit. "You haven't called me that in a while." He said.
"Niiiiiii-sannnnnnn!" He said again.
England laughed to himself. "You're drunk." He said.
"WASTED!" He agreed. And laughed.
"It's good to hear your voice." England thought to himself. "So what did you call me for, you idiotic-"
"You sound tired." The voice interrupted. Same old America. Never let him get a whole sentence in.
"That be because you've called me at such an ungodly hour." He deadpanned. Britain refused to admit how happy he was to hear him.
"I just called to-I had to just say…" He trailed off. He did that a lot when he got drunk. Though, America held his liquor pretty good. To let he get bind-staking drunk was a rare thing. Must be a big celebration.
England caught himself on that last part. Of course it is, England, you twit. It's his birthday. It's the day he broke away from me.
France teased him. Said "It's not like he broke up with you or anything. He wasn't your lover, or was he?" The nasty, dispicible-
"-I called and oh guess what? I've been- Oh waiter! Wait some more? Britain? You there? Hey, guess what? Have you guessed yet? Huh? Have you? Have-"
"Out with it, you nit!" Britain yelled.
"I love you, ni-san!" America said. In all those years he'd never heard his voice so high and so sweet.
Britain paused. "W-what?" He whispered.
"I love you, ni-san!" He said again.
England smiled and felt the tears fall and he let them. "I love you too, you stubborn brat." He heard America laughing and someone telling him he was dunk and took the phone away. Even when he heard the sound of the phones disconnecting he stood there just listening to the sound of the echo in his brain. "I love you, ni-san!"
The Prime Minister's ears perked up at the silence. He heard the lack of mumbling from the other side. They've hung up on him, he concluded. "Shouldn't you put the phone down?" He asked.
"Just a little longer," Britain whispered, a blissful smile gracing his lips, "Just a little longer."
And not seeing that love'n you
that's what I was tryin' to do.