Hey everyone :) Well I'm feeling better in terms of health but school have decided to set up a plethora of evil tests so sorry for the late update. We break for the holidays soon though, so more updates then hopefully~! ^_^
Warning: Contains language :P
x~x~x~x~x
Chapter Thirteen- It's The Small Things
I can't sleep.
Normally this wouldn't bother me as much as it is now, but the fact of the matter is: I haven't been able to sleep for the past week. I can get close. I can get to the point where I'm almost drifting off, but then a cold shiver runs through me and I find myself wide awake once again.
I turn over, trying to find a more comfortable position to sleep in but it's fruitless. I heave a sigh and eventually sit up, propping myself up against the fluffy pillows and folding my arms so that in the unlikely event of any random passers by seeing me, they would understand that I am not impressed.
I'm not usually cold at night. If I am then I just add a blanket or something similar, yet here I am lying in my usual comfy bed with a grand total of six bloody blankets and duvets, as well as wearing a damn sweater but none of it is helping at all! It's as though I've lost a heat source that was apparently critical to letting me drift off. This of course is completely ludicrous; I haven't lost or changed anything in regards to my sleeping routine.
"Why can't I just get to sleep?" I mutter under my breath, not really sure who I was addressing but I still waited for some form of reply that inevitably didn't come. In all honesty, part of me knows the answer to that question. Somewhere in the very back of my mind the answer is screaming at me, but I refuse to pay any heed to it because it just cannot be true.
Yet in comparison to the supposed answer on my mind, the fact that I cannot sleep becomes rather insignificant. The thing that really pisses me off the most is the fact that I can remember when my last good night's sleep was. This may seem strange, the notion that me being able to remember the last time I slept well irking me, but on that night... if I am completely and utterly honest: I had not slept that well in a very long time, I cannot even recall the last time I had slept so well. And that is the most annoying thing of all, the fact that that remarkable night's sleep was the night I was with America on that island.
The night I was essentially lying in his arms (even if it was against my will).
The feeling of safety, the feeling of security, the heat emanating off of him... that is why I can't fucking sleep! I can't erase the damn memory no matter how hard I try, and now I can't get to sleep!
I hate not being able to sleep.
I hated that night when we were stranded.
I hate him.
Ba-thump.
"GAH! I AM THE FUCKING UNITED KINGDOM! WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?" I pull at my hair, I yell, I do anything to distract myself from thinking about that night and of America. I honestly did hate it! I did!
But I've started to notice things. They are only small things, but in the end it is those small things the render me incapable of thinking of anything else apart from America...
Just small glances, or a small favour he does for me, or how he cheerily greets me in the morning with that dazzling grin of his...
Ba-thump.
No! There is also the converse! He is an idiot, he is a glutton, he is annoying, he pisses me off so damn much! He uses every opportunity he can to get on my nerves! So what if he is occasionally bordering on the parameters of decent? Most of the time he is a total pain in the arse and is someone who I have absolutely no desire to interact with.
At all.
Ever.
LIAR! a voice within my head screams, but I have to block it out, I can't allow myself to acknowledge it. If I do, then I'll realise that I really have been thinking of nothing but him, and that is not acceptable.
"He hates you remember? Plus he was bloody unconscious that night! And he only does those small things to play to his stupid hero fixation! Get a bloody grip and stop thinking of all of this bullshit!" My shouting that doesn't help anything at all. I need a better distraction, something that has the capacity to annoy me even more than these ridiculous thoughts...
I fling the multiple duvets off of me and exit my bedroom, suddenly struck with inspiration. I make my way to the nearest phone and pick it up, ringing the number as quickly as possible in anticipation for my distraction to answer. After what seems like an infinite number of rings, a sleepy and croaky voice finally picks up the receiver on their end.
"Uhn... Bonjour?"
"Hello bastard."
"Angleterre?" came France's bleary voice. "What are you doing ringing me at such a time?" He sounds annoyed, good.
"I cannot sleep, and the sound of your voice bores me to no end. I am pretty sure I'll be sound asleep if I hear your stupid voice for even two minutes."
"Oh?" he asked, clearly starting to come out of his sleepy state. "You sure you didn't just want to 'ear my sexy voice?" he chuckled.
"France, do not make me want to be sick," I said coldly, but he simply laughed and paid no heed to my cynical comment.
"Perhaps Big Brother can help then, why can't you sleep?" he asked.
Like I'd tell him. "That is none of your concern Frog!"
"Angleterre, what 'as been with you lately? I'm guessing you've not been able to sleep for a while, you 'ave very unappealing bags under your eyes, so not cute."
"Why the bloody hell would I want to be cute, wanker? Look, I need a distraction at the moment and you are my best bet."
"A distraction eh~? Oh I like the sound of that very mu-"
"Not like that you goddamn pervert!" I yelled, ignoring as he voiced mock hurt.
"You wound me Agleterre!" he said dramatically, "Do you want to make me cry?"
"Shut up bastard, look we're going drinking tomorrow."
"We are?"
"Yes."
"Fine, but that means you 'ave to be nice to me tomorrow if you expect me to look after you when you get completely drunk~" he hummed.
"The hell I do! You still owe me from the last time we went drinking!" I reminded.
He chuckled as he said, "Ah, oui. Very well then, it's a date~ See you tomorrow, mon cher~!"
I rolled my eyes and put the receiver down, glad that I could at least get smashed tomorrow seeing as we had a day off after. It may seem strange to think that France and I would make very suitable drinking partners, but it has always been that way for a long time now. At first we only drank together because we both like alcohol, only... we like it a bit too much. In fact, no one else could actually keep up with the rate in which we consumed alcohol, and so we naturally became drinking partners. Since we don't care for each other, we would often leave the other to their own devices if they got drunk. I recall the time when France was so out of it that he completely stripped and went running all over the town, only that town just so happened to be London in the winter months. Long story short, he passed out in the square surrounded by loads of snow and nearly died of hypothermia. I would be lying if I said I didn't find that absolutely hilarious, only I have to admit that I'm not really much better.
It got to the point where we tended to come within an inch of death almost every time we went out drinking, and so we came to a sort of arrangement whereby we agreed to let our deep-rooted hatred for each other take a back seat and we would unite over our love of alcohol. This included taking care of each other when we really did get off of our faces. As I was the one responsible for dragging that bloody Frenchy back to his house last time, it is my turn to drink to my heart's content while he ensures that I stay alive. It's not a bad deal in all honesty, the only downside being that I have to put up with that stupid French tosser as my drinking companion. However as soon as I exit my sober state that doesn't really cause any problems, and I know that I can at least rely on him to get me home safely and vice versa.
I pad back into my bedroom and stare blankly at my bed for a moment. I know there isn't even any point in trying to get to sleep, as soon as I try then I'll just start to think about America again and-
Damn.
Ba-thump.
I seriously hate him...
x~x~x~x~x
I yawn and wipe my eyes free of any stray sleep as I make my way towards the building that is to be used for today's meeting. I suppose that it is a good thing that it's being held in my home country today, I don't think I could face traveling elsewhere while I am currently suffering with insomnia. The cold breeze that whips through my hair almost violently serves to at least keep me awake for now.
In the end I didn't even bother climbing back into bed, instead opting to deal with more trivial matters such as paperwork and filling out reports to give to my boss. It served as a decent distraction, until it came to the part where I had to detail more about the resources available to our allies... I stopped then. This is bloody awful, that idiot should be the last damn thing on my mind! I can't wait until I can just drown it all out tonight.
"Angleterre~!"
I glanced backwards in time to see France making his way towards me with his usual stupid smirk. "You look like shit," he observed when we were at a relatively close distance.
"You are shit," I retorted, glaring at the sparkling Frenchy is his stupid flashy clothes. He looks like a complete nutter wearing a cape, yet he claims it to be 'fashionable'. Clearly the French have no sense of fashion at all. The wind is blowing it about everywhere, yet he seems unfazed by this and laughs.
"But I think we can agree that your food is the most shit, non?" he winked.
"You bastard! Take that back right now or else-" I was cut off when France suddenly lunged towards me, grabbing me in a sort of headlock. "Oi! What the bloody hell are you doing you wanker?" I demanded, straightening up slightly only to realise that the infuriating blonde has his arm draped over me. "Unhand me at once! If not then I swear-"
"Bonjour America~! Good morning~!" he cooed. I froze upon the mention of that name and slowly followed France's gaze.
There he was, casually making his way to the meeting building with one hand in the pocket of his bomber jacket and the other holding a burger, which he was currently eating (I use the word 'eating' lightly, it was something much more rushed than that). This is the greedy sod that has been plaguing my thoughts recently, and I mentally groan. He looked up once he heard France calling, his sea blue eyes that are usually sparkling with excitement seeming... guarded in a way. I also noted the lack of his trademark grin, is something wrong? Dammit, why do I even care? It's none of my concern; I should just ignore it.
I am so fixated on trying to stop thinking like an idiot that I failed to notice being brought closer, France's arm still around me. He's leading us over to America, who really does look annoyed about something.
"Mornin'," he grunted, finishing off the burger he had and screwing up the paper it had been wrapped in, shoving it into the depths of one of the jacket's pockets. He gave us a funny look, as if assessing something. I am too caught up in all of these stupid, insignificant details to notice France's smirk getting bigger.
"Ready for the meeting?" France asked.
America simply nodded, still looking at us weirdly. Seriously, this is starting to bug me now! What is wrong?
"I just can't be bothered today~" the blonde drawled. "All of this is such an effort, I 'ope today goes quickly so we can go on our date as soon as possible. Right Angleterre?" He pulled me closer to him, my brain only just comprehending how close the proximity between us really was. I shook my head, trying to think coherently.
"What are you-"
"Date?" America asked, his eyes completely devoid of any positive emotions now, but he still maintained an aloof attitude.
"Oui! Angleterre even asked me 'imself this time!" he grinned.
"Oi! Don't go saying weird bullshit!" I snapped, pulling away and glaring at him.
"Oh don't be so shy~ It was cute 'ow you rang me so late at night practically begging me to go out with you tonight," he purred.
What the fuck is he on about? 'Begged'? I didn't beg, I ordered him if anything. And why is he calling this a date? We've been drinking together hundreds of times... although I guess France is a complete pervert and the so-called 'Country Of Love', so maybe him calling it a date isn't that weird? Even so, he's making me sound like some desperate maiden or something!
"You French bastard! I did no such thing and-"
"Ah, I'm sorry Angleterre. Did I embarrass you?" He chuckled softly as he said, "You really do like to be so intimate with these things~"
"Seriously, what the fuck-"
"Ah, well we'd better be going!" he said hurriedly, closing the distance between us and putting his hands on my shoulders, pushing me towards the meeting room. "See you in the meeting America~!" he called cheerily. As I glanced back, all I could see was America staring at us, as if at a loss as to what he should do about something...
My attention was swiftly diverted elsewhere though, and when we were actually inside the main building I finally pulled myself together and escaped that stupid tosser's grasp.
"Just what the hell was all of that nonsense you were spouting?" I yelled at him, giving him a full force death glare.
He shrugged as if he couldn't care less, which was a very stupid move on his part.
I let my anger get the better of me. "You bastard!" I yelled, bringing my arm up to aim a punch at his face. He dodged it and laughed.
"You are too predictable Angleterre!" he laughed.
"Oh, you think so?" I asked.
"I know so."
"You really think that I'm predictable?" I pressed, walking up to him so that we were only a few inches apart.
"Oui."
I smirked and dragged my foot across the floor, effectively knocking that damn Frenchy's legs out from under him. He landed with a thud and looked at me in surprise.
"Predictable my arse," I said before walking off.
I really am shit at being a gentleman, aren't I? I chuckle bitterly as I think that, maybe there is just no hope for me, maybe I can't change. Am I still the ignorant delinquent of my past?
I lose myself in my thoughts and am surprised when I find myself at the meeting room door so soon. I open it and proceed to draw the usual caricatures of myself and the others on the board after retrieving the piece of chalk from the desk. My mind wanders as I draw the familiar faces, my hand moving freely as if remembering the lines.
I parade myself as a gentleman, when in fact I don't think of myself as one in the least. My temper is awful, I curse a lot, and I have very little patience. I can see the negatives within me, and they all seem to be the complete polar opposite of what a gentleman is. I can't help but feel I chose to become a gentleman because it was so unlike me. That way I could escape from who I was, I want to leave everything behind. I don't want the past returning, I don't want the memories, I don't want any of it.
I just want a fresh start. To be able to have a clean slate, where I can form new relationships and always look towards the future; to have an optimistic outlook on life... that would be the ideal.
I have to start with America. There are too many painful memories; I don't want to bring them back up anymore. So I will stick to my resolve this time and become indifferent. He can make fun of me all he wants, what do I care? He hates me after all, so it's only to be expected of him to act like that towards me.
This is bad; I can feel the familiar dark feelings of depression beginning to creep over me. I should just stay focused and objective... and then get completely drunk once this bloody meeting is finished.
x~x~x~x~x
I have succeeded!
All throughout the meeting America would flick bits of paper in my direction, or be especially idiotic, or just do things that were just plain asking to be shouted at, but I handled it all perfectly. I find that just taking a deep breath and thinking about what getting any more involved him would mean, and I can refrain myself from saying or doing anything. It was difficult at first, but I think I've finally become especially inept and remaining indifferent now, at least when it comes to America.
France on the other hand... I have absolutely no bloody idea what's going on in his idiotic brain. For the duration of the entire meeting and all of the breaks he would say needlessly ambiguous things, forever going on about our 'date' and being all touchy feely. I eventually lost it and knocked him out cold when he had the nerve to impose on my private time during the break, which in hindsight wasn't the wisest thing I could have done because I had to make up some excuse as to why the two of us entered the meeting so late once it had resumed (with France making yet more inappropriate comments to which I had half a mind to knock him out again).
One thing that I did notice when I was busy trying to keep calm during America's moments, was that whenever France came into he equation his demeanour would alter slightly. He would become louder, or more irritable, or just look completely different. I wonder if anything is going on between those two?
Ah well, it's none of my concern.
I sit on the low wall just outside the building we had the meeting in, wondering where the hell France was. The meeting ended five minutes ago yet there is a startling lack of alcohol in my bloodstream!
"Damn that unreliable bastard," I muttered under my breath. The weather this time of year is brutal, and I huddle further into my coat and try to stay warm despite the sub zero temperatures all around me.
"Yo, England!"
I glanced up when I heard the voice of someone that I didn't particularly want to be near at this particular point in time.
"Good evening America," I said plainly, still deigning to keep up with formalities.
As it was already pretty dark at this time it was hard to make some things out, but I swear that he looks pained in some way. Is he ill?
"Dude, what gives? You've totally blanked me all day!"
That's what's bothering him? Why would he even care?
"I have had no need to discuss anything with you today, and arguing with you during meetings is a pointless waste of time. We are in a war America, it is time we took a professional stance on matters."
"Geez, you are such a cynical old man! Stop looking at the negatives dude! Plus ignoring me is way rude, I thought you were supposed to be a gentleman."
"Tch..." Damn, I don't know what annoys me more: the fact that he's getting to me or the fact that he actually has a point. "America, this discussion is useless. I'm sorry if you felt ignored and I will do my utmost to address that. Now if you don't mind, I am actually going somewhere with France tonight and so I don't really have any more time to spend conversing with you."
I stood up with the intention of going in search of France, but America made me halt my movements when he yelled, "I don't freaking get you! I thought you two hated each other!"
I turned around to look at him; he really seemed upset about something. I don't understand what the matter could possibly be, why would he even be bothered by this? "The relationship that France and I share is of no concern to you," I said calmly.
"England!" He stepped forward and grabbed my hands in his, locking our gazes.
Ba-thump.
God, his touch is so warm... It's impossible to think that the temperature is so cold now, the heat from him being carried all through me. And his eyes...
I'm drowning, drowning in that mesmerising sapphire blue... losing myself...
Ba-thump. Ba-thump.
"Wh-What are you-?" Damn, my voice is failing. What is with me, why am I acting like this? Or rather: why is he acting like this? Why does he do these small, insignificant acts that make me look into things way more that I should? I don't think he's even aware of it...
All too soon, the warmth around my hands is gone and an awkward cough leaves America's throat. "Haha! I totally thought you had something caught in your hair and I was gonna get it out cuz I'm the hero, but I was wrong. Later dude!" He quickly turned around, meaning to head off while I just stood there in complete confusion.
Just what the hell is going on?
"Angleterre~! Sorry I'm late, but I'm ready now!" France called, running to where I was standing. "You ready to go?"
"Yes," I said simply. At this rate, drinking everything in the whole bloody bar won't be enough!
"Hn? America?" France was looking forward, and sure enough America had completely stopped his walking and had turned around. France grinned, "Have a nice evening~ We'll just be off now." We walked past him, and he didn't say a word. I was expecting some comment about how it was dangerous for two old men to be out so late or something, but there was absolutely nothing.
Until I was suddenly pulled back.
"What the bloody hell?" I asked in shock, regaining my balance and looking back. There stood America, glaring at France who simply smirked back. "Oi! America, just what the hell do you-"
"I'll take you!"
"What?"
"I'll take you to the bar, 'kay? Cuz I'm the hero, and it wouldn't be right for me to let two senior citizens wander around getting drunk!"
"You git! Why on earth would I want to go drinking with you?" You're the whole bloody reason I'm going drinking in the first place!
"Don't stress out dude, I'm totally reliable! I can take you home and everything if I need to."
"Thank you for the offer but I will have to decline it," I said curtly. "I have already made arrangements with France and-"
"So what dude? C'mon let's go!" He began to literally drag me by my coat sleeve, and no matter how hard I tried to dig my heels into the ground to stop us there was no helping it. Bloody hell his strength is ridiculous! And this time he isn't even half asleep, there's no way I can win this one.
I looked back at France, wondering why he wasn't doing anything to stop this. He was simply waving with a small smirk on his face. Oh I will definitely kill him the next time we meet! But at the moment, I have a bigger dilemma on my hands.
"America! Let me go, I don't want to go!" I protested, but he completely ignored me. "OI! Are you listening, idiot? I said let go of me!"
"A drink's a drink right?" he reasoned. "So what does it matter who you go with?"
"It matters to me dammit!"
"Why? Why does it have to be France?" he asked, his voice raising.
"Because that's what I've always done! But that is none of your concern, just let me go!"
But I had lost. I knew I had lost.
And so I came to find myself sat behind a bar with America as my drinking companion for the night. As soon as I sat down I immediately signalled for the bar tender to come over.
"What'll it be sir?"
"Scotch, three of them. And then just bring as many shots as you can."
"Are you sure that-"
"Just do it!" I commanded.
"Umm... dude, I don't really think that's healthy," America said uncertainly.
"I don't want to hear that from someone who only lives off junk food!" I snapped. Besides, if he's the one I'm here with I'll have to drink twice as much. I came here to forget about him and not have him on my mind all of the damn time! How am I supposed to manage that if he's here with me?
"Don't look so concerned idiot. I can hold my alcohol better than anyone."
x~x~x~x~x
I know England said he could hold his alcohol, but...
"Wha the bloodyyyy hellll are youuu looking attt~?" he slurred, looking at me through completely dazed eyes.
"Dude, you are so drunk."
"Shaddup! I ain't druuunk at all, seee?" He attempted to get off of his chair, probably to attempt to walk in a straight line to prove me wrong, but he gave up after two seconds.
"Screw this," he muttered. "Oi! Bar man! More alcohol~!"
"No freaking way! You aren't gonna have any more! I'm cutting you off!" I said firmly, dismissing the bar guy when he came over.
"Whaaaa~? Who the bloooody hellll dooo youuu think youuu aareee?"
"For once, the sensible one," I sighed.
"France neverrrr cuts me offfff!" he pouted. "Waaaah! You're mean, I haatee youu! I want Fraaaaaannnccceee~!"
Even though I know he's completely drunk, him saying that still pisses me off. What's so special about France? Why do the two of them go drinking together if they hate each other? Seriously, what is their relationship?
England was acting really cold today, nothing I did would provoke him in the least. It was like I was invisible or something… I don't get it, what did I do? Did I actually push him away, like France said I would? Or did he take England from me? Oh man, this is so messed up. In truth, grabbing him and bringing him here was on a complete impulse. Just the thought of France and England alone really got to me. This is stupid, England and I aren't even together, and judging by the way things are now we probably never will be. Yet I still get insanely jealous and over protective.
Damn, this sucks!
"Ah~! That's the stuff!" I looked at England and my mouth fell open.
"Dude! Where did you get those shots from?" I asked in complete shock.
"I'm theee United bloody Kingdom gitttt! Youu cannott keep alcohol awayyy from meee!" He gave a triumphant grin while I literally face palmed. Clearly he had ordered something while I was lost in thought; he's sly when he's drunk. When another scotch was placed before him, I took action.
"No," I said firmly.
"C'mooonnnn!" he moaned. Honestly, he was acting just like a child.
"You've had enough dude! Just stop already!"
"Buuutt I waaannnttt iiittttt!" he insisted, trying to grab the drink from me. He completely misjudged of course, his perception and spacial awareness completely none existent with the amount of alcohol now in his system, and he ended up with his head on my shoulder.
"Huuuhh? You smell different Fraaanncee," he slurred. He then picked himself up slightly and lazily brought a hand up to tug at my hair slightly. "Andd youuu chaangedd yourrr stupiiddd girrllyyy hairr~"
"I'm not France!" I exclaimed, pushing him off of me.
"You're nottt?" he asked in complete surprise, squinting at me to see if he could see better. "Are you a mermaid?"
Oh my God. "No, I am not a mermaid! I'm America, the hero!" I said proudly.
"Americaaa~?" he said slowly, before it became a steady chant, almost like a song. "Americaa~ Ameriiccaa~ Aaaammeerrriiccaaa~"
While I was busy wondering how I was going to get him home in this state (because I never thought he would be this bad), he had managed to steal the scotch back that I had taken earlier. He downed it before I had a chance to take it back. "It'ss myyyy rightt!" he claimed. "'sides you should be niiiceee too meee~ I amm mee anddd fdsfghgsggudscfjvb..." his head fell to the bar and he started mumbling incoherently.
"Okay, we need to get you home ASAP dude," I said, getting up from my chair.
"Idddiioootttt~" he slurred. When I moved to get him off of his chair though, he became extremely animated.
"Nooo! I don't wannaa! Noooooo! Leggoooo! Waaahh!" He flailed around as best as he could, but I eventually managed to get him onto the ground. I put one of my arms behind his back to support him, and draped one of his arms over my shoulder so that I could at least try and maneuver him. All the while he kept on mumbling nonsense, barely able to put one foot in front of the other. What would cause him to drink so much? I sighed as he completely gave up trying to cooperate, with me essentially just dragging him along.
"Hey, think you can hold onto me?" I asked, not really thinking he could understand me.
"I'mm noottt an idiooottt!"
"Okay okay. Here then." I hoisted him up onto my back and held his legs in place by putting my hands under them, deciding it would be easier to just carry him there.
Wow... England is really light.
"I don't like it," he mumbled under his breath. "Put me dowwnnn."
"Can't, it's easier like this," I said simply, glad that we were almost approaching England's house. "Honestly, you shouldn't drink so much! You could really damage yourself ya know."
"Shaddup! I don'tt wanna lecturreee frommm youu!"
We eventually made it to his house, and he just about had enough sense about him to pull out his key and hand it to me. I opened the front door and once we were inside, carefully set England back on the ground. I took a brief moment to look at these new surroundings, realising that this is the first time I've actually seen England's house. It's pretty much what I expected, loads of antiques everywhere and a smart, ordered feel to the place. Any items had been neatly put away and arranged, and I could see that the books on the bookshelf nearby had been arranged alphabetically. I couldn't really look for too long though, because there was no way England could keep himself up on his own. He was swaying precariously from side to side, so I steadied him by his shoulders.
"Honestly, you call me an idiot but that makes you a total hypocrite if you get this drunk," I said, gently bringing my hand up to brush aside a stray lock of England's hair that had come out of place.
"Don't!" he said immediately, swatting my hand away.
"Dude, I was just-"
"Let go of me!" he yelled, trying to pull away but his current lack of coordination made that pretty much impossible.
"You're completely drunk! I need to hold you up or else you'll fall, duh."
"I don't care! Just let go of me!" He started thrashing about, nearly toppling over so I had to catch him again. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" he yelled.
"England..." Tears were streaming down his cheeks, and he looked so lost. "You really did drink too much. Here, I'll take you upstairs and you can sleep, okay?"
He shook his head, walking backwards away from me and supporting himself up against a wall, tears still flowing from his beautiful emerald eyes. "Don't be nice to me," he said so quietly that I had to strain to catch it.
"What?"
"You hate me don't you?" he asked, before glaring up at me, "Well then act like it!" His words were still running into each other, but he looked as though he was concentrating as much as he could to make himself understood.
"England, I don't get what you're trying to say."
"I'm saying leave me alone! Do you have any bloody idea how hard this is? How miserable I feel all because you are here? Do you have any idea what you did to me?" he yelled.
"Dude, you're drunk. You're not making any sense, let's just-"
"NO! Listen to me! You act like you don't care at all, but then again why would you? You left me, you said you hated me!" His words became harder to get out because he was sobbing so much by this point.
"England..." I moved forward to try and comfort him, but he just yelled at me to stay back.
"I know you hate me! You do mean stuff everyday! Is it any wonder why I tried to ignore you? Why would I want to face your hatred everyday? I want nothing to do with you! I wish you would just disappear! I DON'T WANT TO REMEMBER ANYTHING!" He was shaking, his face was bright red, and as he continued he slowly sank further and further to the floor, until eventually he was just on his knees.
"I can live with you hating me... but... I can't live with you teasing me. So don't touch me, or even act kind to me. Just act how I know you feel, so then I can find it easier to resent you." He looked up slowly, not quite making eye contact with me. "You... hate... you... I... hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I HATE YOU! Why do I get like this? It's all your bloody fault! I want to hate you, I need to hate you, I have to hate you... but I can't! I can't because you are you, and it just pisses me off!" He hung his head, his sand blonde locks falling to cover his face, but I could still see the glistening tears sliding down his cheeks.
"I... I'm sorry..." What else could I say? What do you say to that? I was so sure that England just didn't care about anything, that he had simply forgotten about me after I became independent. But it seems as though I couldn't have been more wrong. I carefully approached him, also getting onto my knees and slowly, carefully, wrapped my arms around him. "I'm sorry, England."
"Don't..." he said through choked sobs. "Don't you dare apologise! Don't touch me..." But I didn't listen, and kept on holding him. Eventually, he also brought his arms up to hug me back.
"You... you were everything to me..." he whispered. "But you... you just didn't give a damn about me." I could feel the tears on my shoulder, and my heart gave a painful lurch.
"That's not true at all!" I tried to protest, but he clearly didn't believe me.
"Liar! You left! Without a second thought, you just declared independence and left me! I... I didn't want to lose you... but you just wanted to get away from me as soon as possible. It's always been like that, everyone leaves me..."
"No, England I... I can't really explain it now, but that's now how it is!"
"Liar!"
I tightened my hold slightly, pulling him closer. He didn't say anything, just cried away until he eventually whispered:
"Warm..."
"Huh?"
"You... you are so warm... Dammit... I hate you..."
x~x~x~x~x
I don't really have much to say in this AN... Hope you liked this chapter, and look out for the next update! :) Please review, words cannot adequately describe just how much they mean to me ^_^
xx-animeXalchemist-xx