This is the final chapter everybody. Anyway this was a ton of fun writing but I am wrapping it up to start some new stories. This chapter is just something a little short and sweet since I may make a sequel or AU sequel… whatever the case, I will be writing some story to go along with this. Thanks for reading the whole thing and enjoy if you're still here.
Sometimes it's not the song that makes you emotional…
it's the people and things that come to mind when you hear it…
~Unknown
England left feeling quite hollow and very much shallow.
His head now ached from the concert-like venue and his whole existence he equated to something like a muddy, too bitter cup of english breakfast. Placing one foot in front of the other, watching them step in beat with the others on the stained pavement, he peeked up under his hair. Through his willful hair, and arguably his ginormous eyebrows, he spectated his formal colony surrounded by countries.
Spain stood quite rambunctious to his left, and England could vaguely make out mentions and motions to imply he was asking about guitars. He, the gentlemen he was, preferred violins. To that matter, Austria perked up, going through something like a questionnaire in a way that made him seem uninterested and snobby and thrilled all at the same time. The group rotated around him, trading places and circling like America was a great sun.
England wished he could admit that he wanted to orbit as well.
Earlier, their new, more mortal friends had hung back. Germany had argued though it was quite the adventure there was no excuse not to be productive for at least another hour. You see, the meeting did not end for another three somehow.
Falling behind, Canada hung back silently and coming to England's side. He motioned to speak but had to give a great deal of shouting before there was anything more than a furrowed brow and a blank frown. The expression was a common one for the man, but the lack of hearing was not.
"So, I guess America's even more of an enigma than we thought, eh," it was a whisper that dissolved like smoke into the city streets. His companion had no problem hearing it anymore, adding on that his his ears had perked up at the mention of just the name America.
"I believe so my lad. I think there is a great deal of America we have never bear witness to."
And then silence descended, as softly as Canada's voice. England snapped his coat up closer just as a hand came to rest upon the shoulder.
"Oi, Canada, I do believe that is quite the irritating thing to do after-"
"Being called Canadia? Well, I think that's a first," America stood cockily and glowing, basking in the embers of the setting sun as it fell behind him. Nervously, England let a breath fall and his hands go back to his sides. He noted the American's hands were calloused and the air was growing chillier.
"Don't mistake me, Cana-who is by far the more polite and intelligent between the two of you. Now what do you want, we are almost at the building by now. Or do you not know where it is considering you never made it back!" he said sharply and coarsely. His fingers twitched, and as America's smile faltered for just barely a moment, he made the mistake of shoving them in his pockets and veering to the left. This side was filled with oncoming passengers and even managed to knock into a box-like woman before tumbling forward.
"Hey, Artie, you okay dude?" America asked concerned at his back. Meanwhile, his face burned with embarrassment.
"I am fine, thank you very much," there was another lapse of silence while the two drew into a pensive mood. One where the people to their sides were non-existent and the stench of sewer and gasoline wasn't so prevalent.
"I just was trying to help, ya know," and England did. But that didn't make him any less mad at the American for a reason he didn't know and ashamed with himself. Romano oddly enough initiated in a conversation with America, more importantly gaining freedom from chatting with a certain Spaniard and inquiring about violins and the such. England was drifting farther, carried up and away by the waves of people. He barely heard America reply ruefully, "The fiddle is such a cool instrument dude! Can't imagine what would happen if I hadn't ever listened to it…" The Italian listened somewhat distractedly, missing words and phrases and altogether how much American dreaded and enjoyed the violin.
England bristled further into his coat. His jaw relaxed along with his pace, and suddenly, all at once the tension all over and terrible feelings he had stored were released. Slightly turning back and giving a tentative grin, he chuckled to himself. America might have been one of the world's greatest mysteries, but England prided himself in knowing he knew more about the former colony than anyone else.
And no matter what changed and how many things the American himself withheld, that fact would not falter.