"You know what is happening, don't you?" asks England. Scotland does not reply, fingers latching tighter around his handgun, pressing it firmly against his side. England watches him, a weak smile spreading across his sunken face.
"You're going to be fine," Scotland tells him. His voice cracks painfully in the middle of his sentence, betraying his own doubts about what he had just said. England's grip slackens on his own handgun. Scotland hears its loud clunk! before he actually registers that his brother dropped it.
"You know what you need to do, Scotland," England says. He seems to grimace while saying it. Scotland shakes his head.
"I'm not going to lose you too!" seethes Scotland, jabbing his finger roughly into his brother's face. England stares at the digit in front of him, merely arching an eyebrow.
"But you already have lost me," England says, "When I go, there is no coming back. And I won't know who you are anymore. We can't stop it now, Allistor. It's too late. You should just go, or you should do what I told you to do if this were to happen to me."
"I'm not going to kill you," Scotland whispers desperately, and England just smiles a little.
"Then I'll do it, if you won't. It's better than to become a bloodthirsty, brainless corpse," England says, voice shaking, and Scotland can tell he's not joking, the seriousness in his eyes something he had never seen of his younger brother before.
"I've already lost Wales, North, and Ireland from this," Scotland pleads, exhaustedly. England can tell his resolve is crumbling. "You can't die too."
"But I already am dying," England replies, bending down to lift up the dropped handgun. Scotland watches him check the bullets before snapping it to his belt. He presses his lips tightly together. "I'm becoming a zombie, Allistor. You promised you would kill me if this were to happen."
Scotland flinches at the reminder of the promise he had made. England just looks at him with hope in his eyes.
"Please," England whispers, brokenly, uncharacteristically, "I'm scared... I - I don't know if I can do it myself... But I can't let this happen to me."
Scotland sighs and closes his eyes, his eyes flickering to the gun that he held, before he raises it to point at his brother's forehead.
"Are you certain?" Scotland asks, one final time. England just nods, and he looks about ready to cry, and Scotland is about ready to cry, too, as he presses his index finger firmly against the trigger.
The recoil of the gun isn't what causes it to fly out of his hands, but the loud shot that rings through the clearing and his brother's figure crumpling to the ground is enough to make him buckle to the foresty floor. The gun falls next to him, but Scotland never wants to touch it again. Not after what it had done to his brother.
...
The gun hadn't done anything. He'd done it, hadn't he? He had killed his own brother.
Scotland shakily stands up and walks away, leaving his weapon behind. The sky gets darker as the hours pass by, but he keeps moving. He has nothing left, he thinks bitterly, staring over the edge of a cliff.
Nothing to lose.
Okay so basically this is a zombie apocalypse AU oops. Anyways, they are still countries, kind of. After so many of their citizens dying, they're not immortal anymore. But they still have country status. So ye, that's how England was able to die.
Yes, N. Ireland, Ireland, and Wales all died before this happened. I'm so sorry. :
I need to start writing more fluff like what is it with me and angst why must I do this to myself and other people.
*offers tissues*