ARTIST: artmiss7 (Art is available on the 365daysofusuk tumblr)
AUTHOR: yao-braginski
August 8th, 2014 - I Love You, You Big Dummy
"Do you hear it?"
America turned around and looked, perplexed, towards a closed door.
"What? I hear nothing, sir," he replied, turning around again and facing the man who first spoke.
"It's really weird, I thought I heard a voice singing." The American nation again spared a glance in the direction his President pointed earlier, but nothing came out of the wooden door.
"I'm not sure, sir. Maybe it's just the weariness. This meeting was really tough and tiresome, so it's not surprising you could have heard strange noises." He cut off and laughed "Oh! I think I hear it, too, now!"
"Who's singing? The voice is pretty good. Why would someone sing in a conference room?" the President wondered, and leaned forward to better listen to the faint sound which came from a little room used for international meetings.
The sound was muffled, but the singer was clearly a male and a really talented one, too. Whoever was in there knew very well what he was doing because the guitar's chords were literally flawless, and the way he kept the tempo meant he wasn't a novice but an experienced artist or something similar.
"It may be a street artist who accidentally stumbled into the building and, whilst wondering around looking for the exit, got stuck in one of the rooms," America stated with a serious expression, which didn't match with his awestruck voice.
The President smiled at the childish way he explained a really unlikely theory, but said nothing.
Meanwhile the American country leaned against the door, mumbling weird hypotheses and peeking through the keyhole searching for the mysterious singer.
"America, I think it's pretty rude trying to spy on someone from a keyhole. This singer could be someone who just wants to be left alone and you're making it hard for them, I suppose."
The nation looked puzzled for a moment, but then grinned sheepish and rose slowly from his crouched position.
"Right. I didn't think about it. Well, then we should just leave," he replied calmly and walked down the hallway.
The music in the room ended and the American president sighed contentedly. It wasn't an everyday thing that America actually listened to him. Perhaps the nation was just tired as him and wanted to take a nap or eat, maybe both. Eventually he followed him and the music started again.
America heard the noise of the door as it opened and closed a second later.
"Hi, England!" he chirped as he was sprawled on the couch munching some chips. Noises from the television filled the quiet room of the hotel they had booked.
England moved towards the lounge and sighed at the poor condition of his boyfriend.
"America, I've been telling you not to eat on the couch. This is not your home."
The American whined several undetectable words and squirmed like a trapped bird in a cage until he was too exhausted to keep on.
Then he looked intently at England's black guitar case that he safely kept on his left shoulder, and asked "Did you play it today?"
The other man was dumbstruck for a moment, but then he warily replied, "Well, yes, I did. Why did you ask?"
"I heard you. While Mr. President and I were leaving the conference room, we heard music coming from the international room and I knew it was you. I wanted to burst in, but the President prevented me saying I would have disturbed the occupant." He chuckled and added, "He didn't know it was you."
The Englishman's cheeks went red as he stuttered some apologises. He was about to go and close himself in the bathroom for the rest of his (long-lasting) life, but he stopped suddenly as his companion spoke.
"Can you play it for me?" America lightly asked.
It took a while for England to take in the uncharacteristic demand of his boyfriend, and when he eventually did, he was astonished.
"What's with the strange request? You always barge into my room or whatever place I happen to be in just so you can noisily listen to me playing!" His tone didn't hide his suspicions. Why would America ask him now, when he never bothered in the first place?
"Can you play it?"
He was being rather impatient and it showed in his behaviour: he straightened his back and his cheeks puffed out a bit in a childish way. His cobalt blue eyes showed no mercy. America's gaze was piercing and his tone was definitive.
England sighed and slowly took out the guitar from the case. He tested and tuned it while sitting on the couch's arm as he said, grinning, "Jolly good. I'll play it, but you have to shut your mouth and listen carefully to the best music you will ever hear!"
He spared a last glance at America and after three firm taps started:
"I was so tired of being upset
Always wanting something I never could get
Life's an illusion love is a dream
But I don't know what it is 'cause
Everybody's happy nowadays
Everybody's happy nowadays."
He song with a silvery voice, with soft-spoken hints, while he drummed on the guitar strings and kept the tempo with his left foot.
The way his fingers brushed the strings of the guitar like feathers, the skilled left hand that fluently flowed on the fingerboard like a flash flood, and the mellifluous, slightly thick and low, sounds he made: America had never noticed these details.
"Life's an illusion love is the dream
But I don't know what it is
Everyone's saying things to me
But I know it's okay okay
Everybody's happy nowadays
Everybody's happy nowadays
Everybody's happy nowadays
Everybody's happy nowadays."
America had always listened to his vocal practices, he liked the way England looked so engrossed: his green eyes shone with a unknown firmness and he always let America play along with him or just let him watch.
He liked his smile the most, though.
"Life's an illusion love is a dream
Life's an illusion love is the dream
Life's the illusion love is a dream
Life's the illusion love is the dream
Everybody's happy nowadays
Everybody's happy nowadays
Todays are good."
England sparkled with happiness. America had never seen him so happy in his life. It was so pleasant to watch him play, although America didn't know why. He just loved to look at him so lively and frolicsome.
He glanced towards the Englishman as he was deeply concentrated on the song's rhythm, however by the time America shifted his eyes on him, England stared back with intense dark green eyes.
He flinched.
"Bet you are tired of being upset
Always wanting something you never can get
Life's no illusion, love's not a dream
Now I know just what it is
Everybody's happy nowadays
Everybody's happy nowadays."
With an extended sweeping motion and an allargando tempo, the music ended.
England shifted his position to better sit on the arm's sofa while putting down the guitar. He raised his face and a cocky grin crept over him.
"Well, how do you like it?" he asked, smugly.
After a silent minute a soft "Woah" escaped from the American. Then, noticing that his companion was chuckling, he added, "That was...awesome!"
"So, that's the only thing you're able to formulate after my mindblowing performance? I must have done a good job then." He grinned again, but this time in a gentle way.
"I loved it", said America.
England recoiled and stared at him with disbelief. "You sure are acting radically weird today: first you demand me to play and then show your appreciation... like that..."
America just smiled kindly. "I just really love you, that's it."
The English nation's face lit up as he leant down to approach the American squatting near him.
He pecked him and joyfully nuzzled his nose against the American's as the latter just chuckled noisily.
"Well, that's good then," he said. "Because I love you, too. You big dummy."