Hey, hey! Thanks for all the reviews, I just might die of happiness! Anywho, without further ado, I present day's chapter! Enjoy!

Twenty-Four: Drunk

England has always liked the music his country makes. He can actually feel the pain or happiness or jealously or any emotion that goes into his artists songs. It's kind of annoying actually because whatever he feels usually puts his country into that mood. So if he listens to a sad song, everyone feels horrible or if he listens to a song that makes him happy, everyone is cheery and all smiles and that is just as annoying.

Currently, he just adores Ed Sheeran's songs; their catchy, unpredictable, and he likes to sing along to them when no one can hear him. But they're also immensely sad. And one of his songs has been blasting through the house for a week straight now.

I wanna be drunk when I wake up,

On the right side of the wrong bed,

And never an excuse that I made up,

Tell you the truth that it weren't,

Didn't kill me, yeah it never made me stronger at all,

His fingers tap the side of his glass as he gazes over an important letter from a former colony and he reads it carelessly, his head bobbing slightly to the beat of the music. He knows he shouldn't be working and drinking at the same time so he throws the letter on the coffee table in front of his sofa and sits back and listens, eyes closed, expression unreadable.

Love will scare your makeup,

Lip sticks to me and make me lean back here,

I'm sat here, wishing I was sober,

And no I'll never hold you like I used to

A memory of a small, beautiful blonde-haired boy running to him, his eyes wide and a massive grin that could light up the whole world etched on his face, flashes through England's mind and he winces.

No. He will not think of him today.

England is vaguely aware he's being watched but simply frowns and turns his head to the right, to the direction of the large glass windows that take up the whole back wall of his living room. The sofa that sits to the left of the one England is currently sits on, has a man and a young woman sitting on it. One holds a glass of wine, his eyes never leaving England's face and the other holds a small glass of Harp (its a beer from Northern Ireland!), her eyes flickering between the man who sits beside her and the man sitting across from her. She frowns.

"It's just getting worse." She whispers to the man beside her and he says nothing, only taking a sip from his drink and then carefully setting it down on the coffee table.

But the house gets cold when you cut the heating,

Without you to hold i'll be freezing,

Can't rely on the heart-a-beating,

Cause you take part of it every evening,

Take words out of my mouth just from breathing,

Replace with phrases like 'when you leaving me?'

Should I, Should I,

"Maybe I'll get drunk again," England mumbles, and he knows he's being listened to but sings anyway, the dull ache that had entered his chest subsides somewhat when he lets his emotions out through singing, 'I'll be drunk, again, I'll be drunk, again. To feel a little love.' He speaks the last word and suddenly glares at his drink and downs it in one. The taste burns his throat but he shakes his head slightly, barking at his sister to get him another one. A flash of annoyance graces Northern Ireland's features but she does as asked and snatches the glass from England's fingers, earning a scowl from him before she saunters out of the room and into the kitchen.

I wanna hold your heart in both hands,

And watch it fizzle at the bottom of a coke can,

And I've got no plans for the weekend,

So should we speak then? Keep it between friends?

No I know you'll never love me, like you used to

Just as the lyrics are sung, another memory flashes through his head; he's looking down at his little brother who looks confused and asks him timidly, 'Do you love me, England?' And England is surprised and answers almost immediately, 'Isn't it obvious? Of course I do!'

England winces again because he knows he still feels the same. That is, he used the love him as a brother and ever since that day (another wince as that memory is still raw and fresh, despite how many years have passed), that love has changed to something else. He hides behind countless insults and jibes so that no one will know the truth. When the ironic fact is everyone knows except for him.

And maybe other people like us,

Will see the flicker of the clipper when they light us,

Flames just create us, burns don't heal like before

You don't hold me anymore

The man sitting opposite England sighs, running a hand through his blonde locks.

"Mon Dieu, England, this has to stop." The words are said as calmly as ever but England responds as if he's being attacked, glaring at the floor and refusing to meet his gaze.

"What has to stop?" He drawls out, fingers rapping against his knees because he doesn't have anything to hold. Where the hell is Emily?

"This! Getting drunk all the time, ranting on and listening to songs like this over and over again. I know this happens every few decades and goes on for a few weeks but Angleterre,' He stands up and looms over his friend and now, is looking directly at him, 'it's been two months. Please. Just go back the way you usually are. Insult me! Refuse your sister from seeing me! Anything..." He sits down beside England and places a hand on his shoulder, "Just forget him."

On cold days cold plays out like the band's name

I know I can't heal things with a handshake

You know I can change, as I began saying

You cut me wide open like...

Open bottles of beer but never champagne

I'm hear to applaud you with the sound that my hands make

England strangely understands where France is coming from but he knows and so does France that for some reason and he doesn't know why, this one has gone on longer than the others because he just can't bring himself to forget. He can't bring himself to forget that what he feels is completely and totally unrequited. He can't bring himself to forget that he's nothing but a friend. He can't bring himself to forget that no one loves him. Not like they did before.

Should I? Should I?

Maybe I'll get drunk, again

I'll be drunk; again, I'll be drunk, again

To feel a little love

"I can't." He chokes out and the nation sighs, standing up to move back to his seat when Northern Ireland enters again. And she's not alone.

England looks up and he freezes, he doesn't blink nor breathe for fear that he's just imagining things. Things that happen to be six feet tall with blonde hair and blue eyes. Eyes that are staring directly at England and he feels all choked up, and he wants to get up and run to him. But he doesn't. He doesn't move a muscle.

"Go on."

The words are soft and sound like tinkling bells rustling in the wind and he knows only this sister talks like that. He shifts his gaze quickly to Northern Ireland to see she's looking at him. Go on? Go on what?

England gasps as he bounds towards him, throwing himself on the sofa and encasing England in a hug. A hug so tender and full of that emotion that only England thinks he has, that England wipes away the liquid that has sprung from his eyes unexpectedly.

"I'm sorry."

Those two words, so thick with other unsaid words and England doesn't think, he just acts on impulse and says it. Says the words his needs to say.

"I love you America."

America stiffens and England regrets the words almost immediately. He draws back and it feels like they are in a little world of their own, unaware of the two pairs of eyes fixed on the both of them in fascination.

"I know you do. But I don't want another brother-"

"No." England's voice is calm and he decides that because he has already confessed, he may as well tell the whole truth, "I love you."

America seems to understand as he smiles, and again England wipes away the liquid that is trailing down his cheeks because the smile America gives him is the same as the one he used to receive when America was younger.

"Same." He states and England must look unimpressed because he mumbles after, "I mean, I love you too."

America leans forward and he captures England's lips in a quick kiss that makes England feel like he's on cloud nine. But that's all it is- a quick kiss. Because he hasn't forgotten they're being watched. America looks disappointed when England draws away but England nods his head behind him and America turns and grins sheepishly.

"Oh."

England stands up and looks at his best friend who gives him a happy smile and then England turns to his sister and he plans to hug her and say a few sentimental words about how much he loves her. But, of course, she ruins it.

"OH ENGLAND! I'M SO HAPPY FOR YOU!" She bounces over to him and gives him a kiss on the cheek. "Aren't I amazing? I was so sick of you acting so damn depressed and I knew America was, like, totally in love with you so voilà!" She grabs America and plants one on his cheek too and he swats at her; embarrassed and annoyed.

"Anyway, France and I have to go…somewhere…" She giggles and grabs her boyfriend and as she's walking out she calls out, "you two have fun now!"

And they're gone.

America grabs England quickly and kisses him but England pulls away, eyebrows raised, his features amused.

"What?" America questions.

"Window." England says simply and even though he has his back to it, he turns around and finds Northern Ireland and France peering in, laughing. Northern Ireland jumps and England hears a muffled, "Shit! Run!" And they bolt.

America laughs, looking back at England.

"Seriously England, your friends and family are something else."

England glares at him and grabs his hand.

"Let's go upstairs."

America grins and says as they're walking up the stairs, "Are you sure you don't have a ladder or something outside so Emily could climb up and look through your window?"

England laughs.

"God, I hope not."

Awwww! I was going to make it angsty but I decided nah! I love me some fluff! So hope you liked! Cheers LucyMoon1992 x