This story contains elements of depression.
I do not own any of the characters unless otherwise specified. This story is not for monetary gain.
Enjoy!
~o-o-o~
There is something in the way England holds himself that drives France crazy. He has an air of arrogance about him, subtler than France, accompanied by a condescending gaze that pierces anyone he focuses on. There is nothing charming or gentlemanly about it, just purely patronizing, but in such a way that the individual receiving the look feels uncompelled to retaliate, choosing to ignore it instead (or in America's case remain oblivious). This only fed England's ego more, much to the chagrin of his colleagues. One exception to this was, of course, France. He always met England's eyes with a dashing smile, bemused more than anything by the idea that England thought he was better. This, naturally, irritated England, prompting aggression that drove both nations to callow bickering. France didn't care. He took it upon himself to be the one nation who stood up to England. For what it was worth, France had not known the reason behind England's resolve.
Every nation had their own way of dealing with haunting memories. France had always assumed England was too cocky to let past mistakes or failures dampen his mood. Instead, France learnt the opposite. England was crushed, drowning in harrowing memories that threatened to swallow him. He was on a downward spiral, that he so desperately sought to hide he masked himself in an unbecoming disposition of complacency.
It was by chance that France noticed England's self-loathing. They were having one of the quarterly conferences, hosted by Germany in Munich. It was the third day, and during the meeting England got into a rather heated argument with India. Towards the end, when everyone had had enough and people stepped in to stop it, India let slip a biting remark, blaming England in part for his many troubles. Had France not been focused on England, had he even blinked at the wrong time, he would have missed the brief slip in England's façade. He looked utterly drained, eyes unfocused and defeated. Concerned, France took it upon himself to find out what exactly was going on with his long-time rival.
His efforts yielded no results at first. England was stubborn at the best of times, adamant about remaining independent, which for him translated to isolation. France on more than one occasion had seen the nation scrawl motivational slogans that adorned posters during World War II. Direct confrontation proved useless, so France took to spying as an alternative. He was not particularly fond of subtlety but this case was dire. He was loathe to admit it but France would go to great lengths to help England.
Days turned to weeks and dragged to months before France finally caught a break. It was heart wrenching. England had disappeared into one of the toilets at the hotel when a break in the meeting was called. France slipped in, unnoticed. He watched, silent, awed by the shift in England's demeanour. His shoulders slouched and the stoic mask slid away, replaced by a despaired gaze that France hated, hated so much because no one should look that way. When England started talking, France's heart sank more at the hate he belittled himself with. He remained hunched over the sink for another five minutes before England splashed his face with water, straightened his posture and all the negativity was buried. England dried off with a paper towel before departing from the toilets.
Due to the nature and delicacy of the operation, France chose not to approach England directly again. Even if France had physical evidence of England's depression, England was far too stubborn to accept help anyway, so an alternate method was needed. France was a cunning man when he needed to be though. He started with offhanded comments, passive, fleeting remarks complimenting England in one way or another. Most of the time, England just rolled his eyes or insulted France in response, but France was attentive, and on more than one occasion England was trying to suppress a smile.
France went out of his way to involve England in excursions, ensuring the island nation could not wallow in his hotel room alone. When they parted ways between conferences France called or visited, it wasn't abnormal for the nation to do that, and though England was abrasive he never explicitly asked France to leave. Progress was slow, but it was happening. The tightness in England's posture relaxed some, his weight leveled off and the bags under his eyes faded. Eventually England became more receptive to France's presence, inviting the nation out occasionally.
They sat inside England's home, drinking wine, England was busy knitting and France was reading a book. It had been raining all day, was still raining now, but neither minded. They just sat together by the fire, enjoying the warmth and quiet comfort of each other's company. England straightened where he sat and his hands fell into his lap.
"How did you know?"
"About what, cher?"
"Don't play daft with me." England focused on France, green eyes shining. "How did you know?" He asked again, his voice shaking. France let a gentle smile grace his lips. He set his book aside and leaned in to kiss England's cheek.
"You're a difficult man to read," France replied gently, still leaned in close. His breath ghosted the other's skin, giving England chills. "Your mask slipped in a meeting. It was fleeting but I managed to catch a glimpse. No one should look that way and I knew I had to do something." France sat back to meet England's eyes. His chest clenched some when he saw tears, but England shook his head.
"I'm happy." England gasped. "I haven't been for so long but…I think sitting here, with you? All those things you did…you make me happy. I didn't want to get better. I thought…I deserved to feel this way because of everything I'd done but…that's no way to live. So…thank you, for showing me that. I'll try."
"It takes time." France whispered. England nodded and swallowed thickly. France brushed his thumb across England's cheek, wiping away the tears that fell. "Anything you need, you call, you write, I'll always be here for you." England nodded again. France set aside England's knitting and then tugged the island nation into his arms. They settled on the sofa, England's head nestled in the crook of France's neck. With some effort France carelessly draped a throw blanket over them and they drifted off to sleep.
~o-o-o~
AN: Take this as a friendship or a relationship: it is ambiguous enough to go both ways. England may or may not be a bit OOC. Sorry about that.
If you ever feel hopeless, lost, useless or any other negative feelings about yourself, don't be afraid to call or talk to someone. I know I have on more than one occasion, sometimes life does become too much. I urge you to speak to someone, be it a family member, friend, or anonymous stranger. If you want to talk to me, send me a message. Life is hard and it's more so when you feel alone.
Depression is a serious illness and should not be taken lightly.
HM
