A/N: Remember teenage Germany? Well here's teenage England.
England was in his room. The curtains were drawn and the door was open because someone left it open.
"Why don't you people ever close the god damn door," England mumbled and slammed it shut.
"Oi, ah tellt ye nae tae slam it!" A voice exclaimed from downstairs.
England rolled his eyes and turned up his totally-not-emo-but-punk-rock music. And thought extremely deep thoughts.
'Is my eyeliner too thick? Should my hair be darker? Am I depressing enough?'
England shrugged. Oh well.
He decided to call Germany because he was the only one who understood him.
"When are you updating your famfiction?"
"W-what?!"
"The Larry Stylinson one."
"I finished it."
"But Harry is dead."
"I know."
"But that's a cliffhanger, you bastard!"
"He is dead. Accept it."
"Absolutely not! Harry isn't dead! He's just asleep.."
"He's dead! Fuck you!"
"They didn't even screw each other!"
"It was rated-"
"You could've changed it-"
"No."
"Can't you do a sequel? Where Harry is resurrected?"
"Harry is fucking dead. Write it yourself."
"FINE, I WILL, YOU BLOODY WANKER!"
England angrily wrote a fanfiction that was 250K words long.
With added screwing.
The end.