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Day Eighteen: Weddings.

The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland is cordially invited

England sat on his couch for the whole weekend, staring into space. Not going out the door once. He didn't eat, he didn't sleep; he just sat there. Doing nothing. Just staring.

Now, apart from England himself, the only people who could get into the grounds of his house where the members of his family.

Over the weekend, he had heard both Scotland and Wales knocking on his door, asking if they could come in; he knew that they knew he was there and he knew that they could open the door and let themselves in but neither really wanted to. They didn't want to talk about it. They only reason they came round was so they could feel like they were doing the 'brotherly' thing and looking out of England. But no. They couldn't. They had no idea what to say to the seemingly ice-cold man.

So they sent in their sister.

To the marriage of

England knew they would do this. Northern Ireland was England's only sister and youngest of the United Kingdom Four, only 92 years old in country years, and 17 in human years. But this girl had been through hell and back again and so England not only cared for her momentously, but also had a great deal of respect for the small nation.

He heard her marching up the driveway on the Sunday morning, bursting through front door and heading straight into the living room. He didn't even look up or move a muscle when she bounded over to him and encased him in a large hug. He just sat there. Doing nothing. Just staring.

Then, without warning, Northern Ireland brought her hand back and slapped England right across the face. He jerked backwards and then, as if he had been asleep for a very long time, gazed up at Northern Ireland, feeling dazed and confused.

"Emily?"

The brown-haired girl felt tears in her eyes as she looked down on her big brother. She grabbed him, hauling him up so he was standing and gave him another hug. She drew back and studied him while he stretched.

"What are you doing here?" He yawned and Northern Ireland sighed at him.

"What do you mean, what am I doing here?! Scotland, Wales and I have been worried sick, England! You haven't been out of this house for the whole weekend!"

He scoffed.

"What are you talking about? It's Thursday!"

Northern Ireland frowned at him.

"What? No it's not, its Sunday! Today's the wedding."

Immediately she regretted her words. She had planned to ease him into this easily. She kind of guessed that his whole body and mind would reject today and so wasn't entirely surprised when he thought it was Thursday, the day before the invitations had been sent out.

She was dressed to go to the 'joyous' event, wearing a dark blue dress that fell to her knees; simple but elegant. She needed to get England moving.

He would realise immediately if Enlgand didn't show.

The reason being; England was asked to be best man.

FLASHBACK.

"He asked you to be what?!" Scotland cried, gaping at his brother, "That insensitive bastard! Wales, let's go and have a little chat with the world's favourite idiot."

England said nothing but Northern Ireland grabbed her brother and yanked him back down onto England's sofa and shook her head.

"No," She said quietly, "don't make things worse. He doesn't know, Scotland. He doesn't realise. He's completely oblivious."

The Scotsman snorted in disdain.

"Like hell he doesn't! All this crap about the UK and the US having a 'special relationship'; my bloody arse! America doesn't give a flying fuck about Eng-" Scotland stopped immediately when England simply put his head in his hands and sighed deeply. Northern Ireland glared at Scotland.

"Idiot." She spat, smacking Scotland around the head and got up and kneeled down beside England, who was hiding his face. She gently took his hands away and smiled sadly at him.

"England, don't do this to yourself. And ignore what Scotland said. As for me, I honestly don't know what to tell you. It's a complete shock. You heard France earlier, he, being the nation of love and all, was so sure that America loved-"

"Well he was wrong." England spat, pushing Northern Ireland out of the way and charging out of the room and ran upstairs. Scotland and Wales went to follow him but Northern Ireland stopped them.

"Don't." She whispered, "He needs to be alone. We can't comfort him. Not through something like this. Let's go."

END OF FLASHBACK

Northern Ireland realised she wasn't getting anywhere with him as he sat there, numbly, thinking about how he wanted the world to end.

"England you need to do something. You can't just not go. The wedding is in an hour! Ring in sick; tell France or Canada to take your place; anything! Just don't leave it like this. You will ruin your friendship with him forever!"

At that England's head snapped up and he glared at his sister.

The United States of America and

"What the fuck does it matter anyway, Emily? I won't ever want to be friends with him again after this. Don't get me wrong, my government can go and fuck about with his for all I care, but you tell them that there is no way in hell I am ever seeing him again."

Northern Ireland growled at England, now just as equally angry.

"Don't give me that shite England! Don't you dare lie to me and say you never want to see him again. You love him! And if you love somebody, you do what's best for them. And he's your closest friend. You can't do this to him- not on his wedding day."

England squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth.

"He did this to me Emily. He has reduced me to nothing. And he doesn't even realise. How can I go in there and pretend to be happy for him? How can I look at her, silently screaming I would do anything to be in her shoes? How can I look him in the eyes and not tell him that I'm broken inside?"

The United Mexican States

The two siblings stared at each other, one feeling so much empathy, she was fit to burst, the other in pain-staking heartache. Northern Ireland sighed.

On Sunday the 21st November, at 2.30pm in St. Pauls Church and afterward the Fitzwilliam Hotel.

"France is already there. I'll ring him and tell him to stand in for you, tell him to tell America that you have the cold or something.'

England said nothing but sat back down on the sofa and pulled his knees up to his chest and stared out of the window.

Just as Northern Ireland got out her phone, it started ringing, France's name flashing up on it. She quickly answered.

"Oui?"

"Northern Ireland, thank God you have answered!"

He sounded almost hysterical. Northern Ireland's heart started beating twice as fast.

"France, what's wrong?"

"The bride has done a runner!"

Northern Ireland's jaw dropped.

"She what?"

"Yes! She told America in front of everyone that he didn't even realise what has been in front of him all this time and that he must go and get it! She told him that he wasn't really in love with her when he has been completely head-over-heels in love with someone else for years. She wasn't angry at him but she said that what he needed right now was his best man."

Northern Ireland's jaw dropped further.

"Oh my God. And then what happened?"

"She ran. America ran out after her and I after him but he didn't catch her. I told him that what Mexico had said was right and he just looked confused. He's a complete wreck. He needs Engand. Badly."

"Got it." Northern Ireland nodded, and hung up. She turned on her heel and walked up to England and grabbed him, making him stand again.

"England."

He looked up at her stern face, etched with worry.

"Mexico called it off."

England's eyes widened and the air in his lungs got caught in his throat.

"America needs you. Now."

And England ran.

TBC...

Cliffhanger! Review if you can and cheers! LucyMoon1992 x