The Rain Always Falls Here Alternate Part: England's Storybook
What is it really—the rain? Is it something more than just water falling from the sky?
It can be happiness pouring from Heaven on to those whom God smiled upon.
It can be inspiration to an artist's eyes.
It can bring the dead back to life...
...Though, that is usually not the case.
Rain can be cruel, cold, and unforgiving. It can make one feel hurt and sorrow. It laughs at you in your torment. It surrounds you, holds you; whispering in your ear, 'If you keep resisting, this pain will never go away for so long as I am still here . Stay with me and I can help you feel nothing at all. Doesn't that sound nice..?'
... But.
Is the cause really because of the rain..?
Rain can be tears, not causes of hurt—symbolism for a character in a story, but no one would have guessed at first glance. It's just rain—bad weather; not knowing the real story that lies beneath. The misery of one's feelings pouring from the skies as little clear water droplets—not all would see that. Not all would see the true emotions one would feel—the suffering that is rain.
Because rain is colorless—it is like a blank canvas. You are able to paint whatever you would like. Artists are influenced by their deepest hidden feelings; driven by their overwhelming emotions—some happier than others.
Many there are—interpretations of rain. Many more there are—personalities of rain. Although, all depending on the one who is looking. It's probably not the rain at all—just our emotions getting the best of us.
No—it is not the rain.
It doesn't cause people their pain.
It's just the only thing they have to hold them in their time of need.
Standing near an elegantly decorated, draped window, England watches the water fall lazily from the sky which grew darker as night was approaching.
He sighs for he had seen this show many, many times for centuries and had, long ago, grown very weary of seeing reruns just about every day of his life and then some. The Brit yearned to change the channel, but that was, of course, impossible. He had no remote control to change anything; there was no such thing and his window wasn't a television.
He was The United Kigdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland for crying out loud! He would have thought that he'd able to change the blasted weather in his own damn country! But if he couldn't do that, what makes him think that he could change anything else?
He can't! His hurt will stay.
Just like the rain...
People would give advice to try and comfort those. As the saying goes, 'Time heals all wounds'.
England laughed out, "That is one of the most absurd statements I have ever heard..! Without a doubt irrational!" He runs a hand through his hair.
"It's nothing more than bullshit..." His words cause him to laugh again in spite of himself. "Heh... Such vulgar words... Disrespecting my own language…"
The world outside England's house had become dark, signaling that nighttime had arrived at last. Britain paces around the living room he was currently in—looking back at the window every so often.
While not paying attention to where he was walking, England bashes his leg at the corner of a side table. Being caught in surprise at the hard contact, he stumbles to the floor. "Fuck! Bloody hell!" He swore quite loudly. England winces at the pain of his leg and of his now aching body from the fall.
The feeling soon subsided and England glanced over to the table he had collided with. He got up to straighten himself and went towards the table to inspect the sides—making sure nothing was damaged, not caring at all about his well-being overall.
On top of the table was only one item, which England noticed at once. It was a framed photo of him and young America in his arms. They both had beaming smiles on their faces, they looked so... Happy...
England stares blankly at the picture as memories began playing through his head. It started out as good memories making him smile, but the farther the remembrance reel went, the closer it became from being happy memories to ones of misery.
My new big brother England!
England I want to stay with you forever!
Wow! You made me a toy house and a soldier set! Thanks so much!
Sure I'll wear the suit, but it's too fancy. I guess I'll use it on special occasions.
I am not a child anymore nor am I your little brother!
What I want –is freedom!
England…
You used to be so big…
"Gyaa- ack..!" He spurts out, instantly grasping his shirt firmly on his chest directly over his heart. A lot was on England's mind and plenty of hurt began searing through his chest.
The gasping Brit's face soon turned a heartbreaking expression and he quickly looked away from the photo to be facing the window. He looked back out. The shower pounded at the window noisily and roughly, making the windowpane shake.
Was the rain laughing at him?
He scowled angrily at the sky, taking in all the drops in one long look. How dare it laugh at me..! It's probably getting a hoot out of this!
"Bloody repulsive fluid!" He yelled fiercely.
He hated the rain. He desperately wanted it to be gone. He hated the way each raindrop was with other drops. He hated how each drop wasn't left by itself, how it was never alone. He hated how if one trickle of the rain would fall, the rest would follow to go after it—to help it. Even if they can't do one damn thing—they would try.
England hated the rain.
England despised the rain.
He envied the rain.
He cried because of the rain.
...
...
... He longed to be like the rain.
...
...!
!
RAIN! RAIN! RAIN! ALWAYS THE DAMN FUCKING RAIN! EVEN THAT BLASTED WORD IS BECOMING A BLOODY PAIN IN THE ASS!
England's look became a hurtful one, but kept staring angrily outside with his fury growing every second. "Why don't you just bleeding sod off?" He screamed turning his hands into two tight fists.
His attention fixated at each drop descending from the ebony sky—staring violently at the clear beads from when they appeared from above, to when they crashed down onto the dimly lit streets of the town.
"Curse you for always being together! Curse you for not leaving any of your own behind!" England recklessly stepped backwards to grab any object behind him.
His hand searched around from behind until he felt something hard. He immediately took a hold of the object and threw at the window aiming for the skies.
The impact made a shattering noise—glass. The item was some kind of glass.
It soon fell to the floor below the window before England could see what had shattered.
England huffed, not taking one look at the object he had thrown—glaring at the downpour.
"Damn you for going after each drop to save them if they were to fall down to their demise! Damn you to bloody hell for sharing their pain—for taking away their pain! For everything you do—all just for those you care about, knowing that each and every one of you damned raindrops that do so— will suffer! But you do it anyway! You follow them so the other wouldn't be harmed—so you can help them! To be with them when they are alone in their hurt!"
England growls, while he pants to take in short breaths from his yells, slowly calming down. "You follow the one you care about to prevent the pain they will feel..! And you know you will die in the process— just for that someone you care about..!"
His breathing returns to normal relaxing his rage. Breathing in deeply, being conscience about himself and ashamed of the way he was acting, but he didn't care.
He moves closer to the window until he is in arms length to the casement. The English country slowly lifted his hand to touch the pane—eventually resting his palm on the glass. His eyes shifted from the sky to look forward where his head faced—his face growing a soft hurt.
"Heh.." He chuckled sadly. "Well, well... You really are something aren't you..?" His words pointed towards the rain.
"Thousands of drops fall from the sky. They are all together—never alone... They all go the same direction—they all have the same fate... But they continue going the same way. It's like they want chase after their loved ones—to save them before they crash, or at least…
To hurt with the ones they love… to share the pain they will feel in the end so the ones they hold near and dear to their hearts wouldn't go through it alone…
Why do you do it..?"
As wind increases from the outside, England's body trembles at the loneliness he felt. His face turns to a heartrending pained look. He wraps his arms around himself, desperate to feel another's arms around his body besides his own, closing his eyes to feel the night surround him.
Quiet, but so clear, he whispers to the rain…
"You do it because you love him enough to die for him..." He chokes back a weep so he wouldn't cry—not yet. "...Even if he isn't willing to do the same for you..." England collapses to his knees, bending over—clasping his hands on his face.
"Even if… He doesn't love you in return…"
The nation couldn't bring himself to cry. He just couldn't—not yet. No. I can't cry. I won't..! Dropping his hands down from his face, England turns his head to the shattered article.
Getting up from off the floor, he goes over to the broken object on the floor. Glass fragments were scattered around. England looks at the photo in the broken frame.
He had thrown what he kept near and dear to him.
England takes the photo out from the broken frame and presses it tightly to his chest—his expression still hurt and struggling to keep back tears.
"Alfred... Do you care at all..?"
The broken country withdrew to the couch near him; taking the photo with him, to lie down his tired self—mind and body. He collapsed onto it, laying an arm over his eyes.
"Rain rain go away... Come again some other day..." England sang softly to himself.
I hate the rain.
I love it.
I hate it.
I want it.
I don't want it.
I don't need it.
I need it.
I want to be like it.
...
...I just want it to bugger off.
His mind went on a rampage going on and off of disagreements and agreements with himself. England honestly didn't want the rain to go away even though it constantly mocked him. When he thought right down to it, rain was the only thing he had.
If it went away, who would be with him..?
England's expression brightened a bit, though not in a cheerful way, but in ridicule. Taking his arm off his eyes, he chuckled slightly causing a small smile to form on his lips. "What a ridiculous question..." He mumbled to himself.
The answer was simple—No one.
He would be all alone.
And England knew it.
He turned his head and began staring out his window once again watching the droplets crash to the ground. His eyes gradually closed feeling them to be warm and watery, but he forced himself to not let tears escape from his eyes. England's feelings fought inside his whole being as exhaustion soon called in sleep to overtake him.
As England slept, pitter patter noises continued to hit on the window, flooding the sound throughout the house. He tossed and turned in his sleep—mumbling his agony out loud, but with no one to hear. Against his will if he were awake, tears began forming from the corners of his eyes—one by one they fell onto the floor.
"Alfred…"
Ding-Dong! Ding-dong!
England's eyes were still closed as the chime kept ringing, seemingly to be unaware of the sound.
Ding-Dong! Ding-Dong!
He groaned at the disturbance of his slumber, refusing to open his eyes. A rather restless slumber, but he actually slept nonetheless. This was the first time in what feels like forever.
Ding-Dong! Ding-Dong!
England snapped his eyes wide open growling and grabbed two small couch cushions from the sofa he was residing on. He pinned a pillow to each ear in an attempt to block out the ringing.
The visitor will soon assume that the resident of this house is unavailable and will eventually leave. All I have to do is make like no one is home and block out that ringing! England thought.
He felt guilty for leaving a visitor in the rain like that, it wasn't like him at all, but he was too upset to get up. His body felt heavy and his eyes were puffy. It had appeared that he had been crying in his sleep. And after he tried so hard to be strong, his tries were wasted. He didn't want anybody to see him in his current state.
Ding-Dong! Ding-Dong!
"Damn..." He cringed at the sound, having it actually echo through the pillows to his ears louder with than without the cushions.
Ding-Dong! Ding-Dong!
Ding-Dong! Ding-Dong!
Ding-Dong! Ding-Dong!
Ding-Dong! Ding-Dong!
"ALRIGHT! I'M COMING BLAST IT!" Hollered England from the couch as he quickly sat up and released the pillows. He quickly went to the mirror near his desk to check himself and to make himself more presentable. It didn't take long until the doorbell was heard again.
... DING-DONG!
"I said I'll be right there!" England yelled back towards the front door. He finally deemed himself looking good enough to meet standards and went to the door to open it.
"Yes? May I help you?" He said in a polite, proper manner—thinking it would convince the guest that he wasn't the one who had rudely screamed. England wanted to keep his perfect poise and gentlemanlike stature no matter how much he didn't feel like it. And he really didn't feel like it, or doing anything for that matter.
"Uh yeah, I got a letter for a—Mr. Kirkland." The odd man said flatly holding a white envelope to the, now angered once again, England. Britain noticed that the man didn't have an English accent, somewhere along the lines of German? He took note that the man was definitely not from the United Kingdom.
Irritation was twitching at the side of England's eyes, but did the best he could to keep it restrained. He didn't know who this guy was or why the hell a letter was so damn important for him to keep pushing on the doorbell button until the ringing was annoying enough to be replaced, but there certainly was going to be some lessons on manners!
"Young man! Is a letter really that important for you to be standing outside my door pressing on that God-forsaken button in the pouring rain until my ears purposely go deaf just to stop listening to the blasted ringing!" He coldly stated. His eyebrows furrowed inward indicating to the man that he was, indeed, mad.
"And another thing, it is very rude to be constantly ringing it like that anyways! I have a damn mailbox! Instead you stood here waiting for me to get to the door! Bloody hell and it's raining too!" After his little rant, England composed himself back to his polite ways.
The man still held out his arm to England, letter in hand. He scoffed at England, slightly annoyed himself for having to put up with a short tempered country.
England quickly grabbed the letter and jammed it into his pant pocket grumbling uncomprehendable words and curses underneath his breath.
All the man heard England say was, 'Etiquette', 'Rude', and 'Wanker'. The words made the man sigh in annoyance to add into the even more annoyance of England and the guy himself. England shot a piercing glare at the man.
The odd character shook his head and raised both his hands in a defeat and peace offering way while stepping back a few feet. "Hey man! Don't shoot the messenger! I was just following orders. I was told that, that letter was urgent and was given strict orders that, that urgent letter you stuffed in your pockets needed to be delivered directly to the recipient!" He turned on his heel and walked off into the rain back to a cab that apparently was waiting in town.
England sighed and stepped back inside his house, closing the door from behind him. He leaned back against the door staring up at the ceiling thinking of nothing really in particular.
With his position remaining the same for a few minutes, he looked down on the hardwood floor sliding down, back still against the door and sat down sighing again. He brought his hand up to his forehead as if trying to strain away a headache. There was tightening feelings all over his body, it hurt. He just realized how sore he was and how much his body ached with each tiny movement.
In an instant, England quickly remembered the supposedly urgent letter. He scoffed while digging his hand into his pocket to get the little bugger out.
Urgent my arse! Honestly, if there was something serious and had an 'urgent' message that needed to come to me, a call or an email would be more efficient and less time would be taken! IF, it was of grave importance there would BE no time to send a damn letter! England growled in aggravation at the rationalizing he had just finished. He neatly opened the envelope to read what was inside:
England,
This is a demand I want from you. Agree to come battle me at Dead Man's Field with my army of a thousand. With you bringing one weapon and no military. That's correct, come with only yourself. You must fight us as valiantly as you can against us.
To make things easier to comprehend of what I want from you is…
I want, you! I want you to let me take over the United Kingdom, but let's make it interesting; it'll be more fun! For me anyway! I want to see you get annihilated by my army while you're at you best, trying to survive! As soon as I tire of fighting you, you will also agree to let me kill you on the spot. If you don't accept these demands I will not hesitate to destroy your precious America! You and I both know that I am more than capable of doing it! You have one day to respond! If I don't hear from you by then, then I'll take it as a rejection and kill America! I don't take rejection very well!
Prussia
England read the letter over and over again while his heart sank. A flurry of different emotions stormed from inside him; anger, fatigue, sadness, fear, anxiety, hate, love, protectiveness it frenzied around and about haphazardly in his tired being.
He hated the situations of 'give and take' he was always in because it was more of him giving than anything else.
He was tired of being in those situations because they were always on a one sided deal; he'd do the best he can to help that fat oaf Yankee whenever he needed it. In fact he'd do ANYTHING for America, but that was all that it was. He would do anything for his precious America even after all the shit that git caused him, but America just didn't seem like the type to do the same back.
Could he have blamed him though? He caused his former colony to rebel and create a great distance between them. Sure they were still friends and such, but the relationship the two has feels so close…!
Yet... So far...
Give and take—that's all that it was between the two nations. England gives; America takes and takes and takes and takes! No sign of gratitude whatsoever! But America was worth it, worth it all. England wanted to be like rain. He will be like rain.
He will give up everything for Alfred.
Because I love him enough to die for him… Even if he isn't willing to do the same…
Even if he doesn't love me in return…
The way each drop goes in the same direction. It's like they are following each other. Notice how they are falling... It's like each drop is chasing another, trying to get them back where it's safe.
Although, each one falls, and each one crashes down onto the cold ground—not one is to face the fate alone, because they are all together, all falling the same way, all wanting to share the same fate as the ones they love.
Rain is not selfish like us, but yet they all receive what they do not deserve.
But rain is just—rain. Nothing more, nothing less.
It's just the weather… Or is it?
Hellooooos~ beautiful people of the world! I am so sorry that it took sooooo long to put this up! It was going on and on and I just couldn't go on! I'm sorry! After sometime I just realized how much I effin love Prussia and felt bad that I made him the bad guy….I cried… Not really, but I felt bad and wished that I had used Russia, a made up character or something…. =_=
Actually, The next chapter where it goes back to America was written before this, but I felt that this chapter needed to be written to show England's motives and such. I know I said somewhere that I would be putting two chapters at once (I'm sorry that I didn't. Truly I am! D:), but the next chap needed some work and there are some tiffs with it (Not to mention it being equally as long and difficult to write as this one… =_=) So please hang on for me and I promise to put it up as soon as possible!
Don't worry this story is almost done. And you won't have to wait long
NAO REVIEW! IF YOU REALLY WANT THE NEXT CHAPTERS YOU WILL REVIEW AND MAKE SURE THAT THERE ARE A LOT REVIEWS WHEN I LOG BACK ON HERE! IM NOT PLAYIN! .
Because you guys help me write. So without any people supporting me I don't have the strength or will to go on… *sobs*
Oh and those who are reading Britannian Idiot, American Idiot. A few things I want to say—One: You lucky dogs. That story is going much faster than this one xD I plan on putting up a new chapter for that story every 2 weeks, give or take a few days. But I hope you're enjoying it so far :D
TWO!: I need reviews for that too if you want me to continue it xD I plan for it to be pretty long so I need all the help I can get.
*bows* thank you for your love and support for this asian girl, It brings tears to my eyes :'D
*sniffles* P-Please r-review…. P-Please…? *whimpers*