Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Blood trickled out of punctured flesh.

Breathing ragged and uncontrollable.

Eyes burning as the promise of tears fell.

Body battered into submission of immobility.

Blue eyes dull and haunting yet tears spilling brightly like falls in summer.

Dead lips moving, pouring out words that resembled a siren's song. Haunting yet soft.

"Arthur. Why did you leave?"

England sat up in grave shock as the remnants of sleep fell from his tear-laden eyes.

It's been like this for weeks. He goes to sleep in peace then wakes up in hell as nightmares plagued his mind in each dream that would take form. He’d be thankful if the nightmares were different each night, that would at least give him some peace, but that’s  not really the case with the nightmares he's been having.

Every night has become his personal hell. The dreams were so vivid, making him feel as if the damages he obtained were real. Sometimes, he could feel the faint scratches or the licking burns on his flesh upon waking up.

It's horrifyingー

This morning isn't much different either, he couldn't feel his body again, just like the previous nights. It felt as if he drank full bottles of Balkan 176 vodka*, and it's actually killing him as he moved even an inch of his pinky.

"This is bloody too much. How'd I even reach this point...?" England muttered to himself, almost a broken reverent as he tried to keep tears from falling again. He knows he’s been crying non-stop in his sleep, and that his eyes must’ve been so swollen right now. He huffs; it's as if his nightmares want him to cry and knows that he wouldn’t be able to stop every time he's trapped. He could have sworn that there's so much more tears when he's asleep than what he shed consciously.

He tried getting up, finding himself wincing violently at the onslaught of pain running up and down his whole body.

The blonde sighed heavily, "This will be the death of me." as he summoned the last fiber of his so-called strength to move, barely dodging the side-table in his moment of dizziness.

He stumbled to the bathroom, almost cracking his skull open when the world seemed to dangerously tip upside-down once again. Luck as though, he was able to brace himself by the sink before he could collapse and truly crack his head.

Aside from the obvious depravity of sleep, the veins in his body felt as if they're on fire in a constant motion. It didn't even help when the water cascaded down his body when he managed to get himself under the shower spray.

The water took away the grime and sweat, but not the pain he underwent the previous night. It's almost like a replica of what the previous nights brought except the pain adds up each day, making it continuously agonizing.

And just like always, tears mingled with water as it cascaded down his porcelaine face. Oh how he wanted to be in someone's arms right now. Want to feel that security he craves. This is a reverent version of the previous weeks of his life.

To Be Continued.

Chapter Text

World Meeting, London, United Kingdom

The downpour is unbearable at this point. America couldn't understand why it had to be today of all days for a downpour to occur and it's not really helping his case when he's extremely late for the annual World Meeting.

"What could be Iggy's problem now? Everyone knows his feelings are connected to his country's weather. Couldn't he have chosen another day to be this gloomy? It's not even funny." America grumbled under his breath as he tapped a finger on the steering wheel of his black Mercedes Benz.

There's honking everywhere, louder than others as minutes ticked by. It's seriously getting on his nerves at how impatient these British people are. They’re all on the same boat so what’s the use of using the honks except to produce more noise pollution.

He chanced a glance at his phone and thought of calling someone to pass the time. If he could call someone from the World Meeting and inform them of his predicament, he might not be in so much trouble.

America grabbed his phone and scrolled through his contacts, disappointed that he couldn't really call most of those nations in his list since they're not close acquaintances to begin with. The only person he could actually call would be the one who caused this weather conundrum.

There's another sigh as he hesitantly pushed the call button beside England's name and held it against his ear. He waited for four rings until the other line picked up.

" 'Ello?"

"Yo, Iggy!"

" What do you want, git?"

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed." America muttered but not low enough for the British man to hear.

" Just tell me what it is you need. I'm in a hurry."

At that statement, America raised an eyebrow and had to wonder where the hell is the British man right now.

"What do you mean, why are you in a hurry?"

An irritated sigh, " I am just about to head out of the house. I know I'm late so please do not rub it in my face, okay?"

The blue-eyed blonde blinked in surprise, hearing 'hello's' and 'are you still theres' when he didn't answer for a short while.

"A-ah! Iggy! Don't worry about that! I'm stuck in the traffic, actually. I thought you're in the World Meeting already!"

" There's a traffic?"

"Uh...Yeah? It's raining cats and dogs, y'know. You could have chosen another day other than this, Iggy. It's more trouble than it's worth."

" What are you spouting about? It's been like this ever since the last three weeks. That’s nothing new."

"Really!? Duuude! What've you been doing? Under constant negative emotion is bad for the country, you should know that!"

" Can you bloody explain to me what you mean by that, will you? I don't get heads nor tails of what you're saying."

"Seriously!? You're not even aware that it's you who's causing the weather here? You’ve been here longer than I am so you should’ve realized that you’re the only personification who can influence the country’s weather. And everyone thought I'm the idiot!"

" ...I didn't know. Oh bloody hell! How dense of me! If you don't mind, I'll put the phone down now. I'll see you at the meeting."

"U-uh...Sure. See ya..."

America stared at his phone for a moment after he pushed the 'end call'. He wasn't that particularly dedicated to England's mood swings but he found himself aware of them most of the time, making him feel like a creeper for noticing such small imperfections.

Before he could even delve into his inner thoughts, the traffic sign turned green on cue. He sighed in relief as he drove his car into life, temporarily forgetting about the internal problem he conjured because of that simple call.

... America●England...

The tall blonde arrived at the venue forty minutes into the meeting. He had the half-mind of skipping since there's no point in attending it when the whole thing's almost finished. He wouldn't even be able to understand the discussion with half to no information he knew personally! It will just make him sleepy and an angry Germany who would surely chew his head off for being late and not even making the effort to listen.

However, he decided against better judgment and entered the establishment with hands in his pockets and chin tucked into a fluffy American flag scarf. He even looked like an overgrown child with how his nose turned red from the rainy chills, almost a comparison with the red hue of the scarf around his neck.

'Fuckin' weather...' He grumbled quietly as he pushed the UP button on the elevator.

It took three minutes before the elevator door dinged and slid open. He stepped inside the contraption and pushed the 25th button and the 'CLOSE'.

The elevator ascended at a safe pace, making America relax for a while as the warmth the closed space provided thawed the chills that gathered on his fingertips and nose. 25th lit up as the door dinged open, prompting him to step out before it closes automatically.

The hallway seemed pretty quiet which meant that the meeting was still ongoing. That actually gave him relief as he strolled down the hallway to the assigned room, almost light and unbothered.

However, he suddenly stopped from his tracks when he saw a familiar blonde slouched and asleep on the waiting couch just by the door of the meeting room with a haunted look on his pale face.

America's concern won over his ignorance and approached the Brit. There was a thin sheen of sweat on the smaller blonde's face and his big eyebrows almost became one as he furrowed them further.

"Get out of my head..."

The taller nation immediately latched his hands on England's sweaty ones and spoke, "I-Iggy. Wake up. Iggy. Iggy!"

The last call must have sparked a small cognition into the island nation. He immediately shot up from his position and hugged the nearest thing he could reach. In that retrospect, it's America who’s much more shocked at the hug.

"H-help me. Help. I can't get out. P-please." That broken sob made the younger nation push all of his personal thoughts aside. His thoughts were nothing compared to this mess he used to call 'brother'.

America couldn't explain the pang of pain in his heart when that broken plea repeated like a mantra in his head. It's as if England is still trapped within his nightmare.

"Shh..." The American gently cooed into the other's ear as he patted the unruly tufts with gentle ease, "You're safe. You're back."

That considerably reduced the mantra into a string of sobs and whimpers before everything went silent once again, the sound of pattering rain their only background melody.

"Are you feeling okay now?" America asked after a while.

The island nation slowly lifted his head until dull green met blue. It was such a tense silence when England must have regained full consciousness. The dullness disappeared from his eyes as he widened it in recognition and promptly turned bright red. America couldn't help but snort a laugh.

"Y-you git! When did you get here!?" England stuttered as he struggled to unlatch himself from the tall yankee.

Said yankee just sighed, unexplainably disappointed. That brief feeling confused him so he mentally shook it off since this isn’t the right time and place to mull over it

He straightened up and fixed his bomber jacket in an attempt to stall the conversation. He really wanted to make sure the older nation is really okay before they enter the meeting room. After all, he knows by heart that England didn't want the other nations to know there's something up. He’s prideful like that, but it’s what endeared him even after all those centuries of bad blood.

Wait. That sounds wrong. I'm not even his lover. America thought with bitter amusement.

"I just got here. The rain won't let up, dude. It's unnerving."

The red on England's cheeks disappeared the moment he heard the words. There’s a more pronounced frown on his lips and it actually worried the American that he might have said something wrong.

"What's wrong, Iggy?" He asked out of concern.

That seemed to place a lid on the Briton's stupor-like state as he automatically scowled at the nickname.

"It's England, not Iggy, you dolt! Say my name right!"

Perhaps it was the normalcy or that England just said it with ridiculous conviction but it actually gave the American some relief. At least if the Briton is able to bounce back like that, the scare from earlier must’ve only been a lingering nightmare from the night before.

"Alright, alright! Ghad, Iggy. You can be such an ass sometimes." America pouted half-heartedly, narrowly dodging a punch as his last words fell through.

It turns out that their banter ate up the remaining time of the meeting and had to receive a mouthful of sermon from a certain German.

However, England found himself smiling halfway through the sermon as he remembered how good it felt to interact with America after such a terrible nightmare.

Maybe things might look up for him after three weeks of hell.

To Be Continued.

Chapter Text

The rain hadn't let up for the duration of the three-day World meeting. While this has been a normal occurrence, it’s noticeably obvious that the host country, himself, would come late to the meetings.

It raised suspicion from the countries but there's always a perfect alibi from the Briton and it would just be swept away like it never happened. However, even with such perfect reasons, America never really believed in it just as much as the smiles he knew were fake.

He made a huge deal about itー asking each and every country present to look at England and see the difference from how he was before and from now. Most of his query did notice a few changes but it wasn't enough to be considered worrisome. These little interviews actually earned a lot of queries from the European countriesー some even made jokes about this sudden interestー but he batted it off with his usual obnoxious laugh and the whole matter was entirely blown off.

America never knew why he felt so concerned for the British nation but it was not a random feeling either. Ever since the end of World War Ⅰ, he unexpectedly found himself looking at England in a different light. At first, he considered it as some sort of passing infatuationー he clearly recognized his efforts of pissing the Briton as his way of earning attentionー but it eventually grew into something he couldn't bring to admit in the open.

He refuses to acknowledge it as love but even he knows that he's lying to himself.

Love...

Is it really love?

He felt that emotion as some sort of flicker in the pits of his heart but it never grew into something more. Would it be because he kept denying it? Or because he refused the feelings and tried to stamp it down as irrelevant?

He sighed heavily into his cup of coffeeー earning him a few inquiring gazeー including the Briton's imminent worried ones. It was surprising and apparently, he's not ready to look at the island country now that he finally tapped into a bit of recognition about his feelings.

...And apparently too, he failed to notice that he's unconsciously sipping a large gulp of coffee that went down the wrong pipe.

He uncharacteristically sputtered on the tableー fortunately no important paperworks laid out near himー and decided to slam his hand against his chest to relieve himself of the scalding liquid going down his throat. It wasn't that much in the first place but it was damn hot and it's as if he ran a small fire along the interiors.

A hand began patting him hard on the back but he couldn't really recognize who it belonged to. It was an awful lot of minutes before he stopped chokingー absentmindedly accepting a glass of water offered to him.

"Thanks for the water, duー" He began with a smile and fell almost immediately when he saw the Briton by his side, lithe hand still on his back and the other clutching the half-filled glass he had drank from. Heat suddenly crept up on his cheeks. "Th-thanks, England...Couldn't be more thankful e-enough for the extra push."

Confusion flitted across the island nation's face, "O-oh. That was nothing, chap. Are you okay now? Do you need anything else?"

America shook his headー a little too fast actuallyー and scrubbed his palms against his face to hopefully rid of the blush that gathered during the heat of the moment. He smiled easily again once he looked at the Briton, "I'm fine! I was just thinking about what I'm going to have for dinner tonight. Do you have any MickeyDs around here?"

That earned him a smack on the head and a very irritated island nation looking at him. "Bloody hell, git! You spooked us for nothing! Next time you think of food, don't sigh as if someone died!"

He faked a laughー obviously not pleased about his blatant lie. "It's not my fault that food is a matter of life and death! Do you honestly think that I'll forsake my diet? Come on, dude!"

England huffed as he crossed his arms over his chest, "Ever the glutton, aren't you? Whatever. Next time you choke, you won't expect me to help you anymore. Honestly America..." There was a sighー almost wistful. "I can't imagine the troubles you'll get yourself into when I'm gone."

That certainly gripped the American's heart into a stop. He knew he shouldn't assume the worst things but there's something underneath what the Briton just said.

It's as if he's really going away...

"What do you mean, Iggy? Where are you going?"

"Yeah, mon ami." France chimed as well, all playful countenance gone. "Are you planning a vacation?"

"Wouldn't that be too sudden? I mean, there's so much going on in Europe and it would be a bit of a problem if you suddenly went on a vacation." Germany said with his ever calculative gaze.

America found himself looking for the truth in those gem-like emerald eyes as he stared them down. There's...weariness. Resignation. Sadness .

But why?

"England-san?" Japan called out to the island nation and that was when America realized that the Briton stared back at him blankly, as if he’s in a different place and situation.

He saw how the small blonde slowly came back to himself and smiled but it obviously didn't reach his eyes like it used to.

What's wrong?

England looked away from him and towards Japan. The smile looked as if it didn't belong on such a face but no one really seemed to notice as much as him.

"I really need a break." The Briton answered, "I already have the queen's permission so I'm bound to leave soon."

That sparked an unknown panic inside America that he suddenly gripped England's wrist in his haste and hissed an uncharacteristic reply. "Why don't I know about this? Have you been planning this all along?"

The Briton seemed taken aback by his reaction, "There's no need to inform you, America. What has gotten into you?"

America immediately snapped out of his trance and recoiled from his tight grip. Did he just lose control? Damn . That shouldn't have gotten out.

He pointedly looked away to hide the massive frown on his lips and spoke quietly, "S-sorry about that. I had too much coffee."

That's quite an understatement. He merely made a dent on his coffee, actually, and that was an obvious lie in itself.

He nervously watched England's flitting suspicion-- as if he saw right through his lie-- with a sigh of resignation.

"You never change..." The Briton muttered. "What would I do to finally see you grow up..."

And that tugged a very large heartstring. He couldn't understand what England wanted from him anymore.

Wasn't he big enough to be considered a grown up? Wasn't his efforts good enough?

...Wasn't his independence enough?

Without preamble, he slammed his hands on the table and stood up. It surprised the listening nations, including the Briton, but he could care less on what they're about to say because right now, his head is full of angry whispers and pitiful cries. Things won't bode well if he stayed any longer.

There were queries, snarks and concerned words but he ignored them and just walked towards the door. His hands were already on the handle when he heard it. A single sentence from that one person and it rendered him unable to move. The panic from earlier returned ten-fold and with revenge.

" I'm leaving tomorrow so I hope you can see me off."

For the first time, he slowly turned around and stared. Blue met green. Both unblinking and blank. Emotions raging like a stormy ocean.

...And that's how America realized the biggest truth he's been hiding ever since.

He loved England ever since.

To be continued.

Chapter Text

It was a huge mistake announcing his departure in between the World Meeting.

England knew that there would be a huge fuss come his announcement but he never thought about America's reaction nor the opposing comments of each country that seemed a little odd for people who were never that fond of him.

It was indeed strange.

The countries were in a state of unease after his news. Of why, he couldn't tell. He may be once the Great British Empire, but there's little he can do for everyone nowadays to even send them in disarray.

However, the reaction he garnered from America whom he knew very well, even to the most violent reactions, had been his cherry-on-top. He couldn't really explain it but the way how his former colony sounded yesterday got him questioning his absolute decision to leave.

Was there something he owed the American? Or maybe an unfinished business he forgot? There were a lot of unspoken words between them over the centuries. He tried very hard to get the most of them out of his head, but that may not be a good idea after all.

There shouldn't be a seed of doubt but bloody hell! America knew how to rile him up. It's almost unfair.

He closed his trunk with a huge sigh and turned to look outside his window. The sun was barely up and the rain clouds still spewed rain water-- it almost made him long to stay in for a little longer-- but he knew better than to dilly-dally. His flight is due in an hour and he's determined to fly out of his own land just so he can escape the pain.

He winced when he moved his arm a little sideways. Sure enough, blood started to spread on the fabric at a rapid pace.

'Shit' Was the only thing he muttered before grabbing a fresh set of gauze from his medicine cabinet--- now bare of essentials due to his departure. One would think he's never going back.

...He probably wouldn't at any rate.

Things are going to happen, he could feel it. Bad ones. There's nothing that would explain all this conundrum if not for his nightmares that seemed to be branching out of his mind.

At first, it was just some sort of paralysis. Then it elevated to a pain that lit up the nerves in his body. It was like that for the past months until this happened. He woke up to lacerations all over his body and it was a miracle he didn't die of bleeding out. But that's a silly thought. He's a country, after all.

With gentle ease, he slid off of his stained coat and rolled up the sleeve of his button-up shirt. The wound must have opened a lot more than what he had anticipated since it bled out of the fresh gauze he applied earlier.

He quietly set to work, almost resigned and scared at this point. He saw far more wounds back in the days when wars raged the continent, but this would be by far the most terrifying ones he gained. He never knew where it came from-- there's no way he'll be able to defend himself unlike the old days he used to rule the wars. This is a different matter and it scares him.

He sighed again just as he finished re-dressing his wound. It was something he never knew that would happen after centuries and not in a time like this. But...nothing is set on stone so who is he to comment.

The stained coat is left in the hamper and is replaced with a fresh cashmere sweater-- coincidentally from America for his birthday a decade ago. If memory serves him right, the sweater was the last gift he ever received before everything stopped.

For the umpteenth time that day, he crestfallen sighed. He's leaving so he shouldn't be this forlorn. With a final glance at his house, he locked it up and got into the waiting cab. He watched his manor disappear into a distance and for a chilling moment, he thought he saw himself standing by the window.

He rubbed his eyes clear and when he glanced again, the window was empty once more.

Could it have been a trick of the light? Whatever it was, he thought he saw blood covering the apparition's face. That sent shivers running up and down his spine.

...He really needed to leave. There's no time for doubting.

... America●England ...

It was a quarter before his departure and somewhere in his soul hoped that America would heed his words for once.

He sat on the steel bench surrounded by his own people. He doubted that they'll be flying out for a vacation. The bags were clear indications that they're going to be out for a while longer and he could sympathize with them. Who would want to stay in a country swarmed with rain clouds everyday?

He really hoped he'll be doing them a favor with his decision.

Ten minutes to departure, he still hadn't seen a pair of bright blue eyes amongst the crowd.

'Why am I hoping, anyway? I'm not that important to him anymore and even so, his reaction might have been just a fluke. I should just get over it and leave everything behind.' He mused a little bit bitterly.

It was with a heavy heart that he finally stood up just a few minutes away from the designated time. He walked towards the terminal and was about to have his bags checked when he heard it.

"Wait! Arthur!"

England spun almost immediately upon the familiar voice. There. Short blonde hair, big sky blue eyes, and the obnoxious cowlick he would never mistake for anyone.

"Ame...Alfred?" He whispered unbelievingly. He felt his eyes fill with tears but he struggled not to blink lest he wanted America to see him crying. He can't let America see him cry again.

America stopped once he's comfortably close enough. There was an audible gulp of air before he spoke, but even then, the name that came out is still forced----as if he's trying not to cry or choke. "A-arthur."

The Briton felt his heart skip a beat. Traitorous heart .

The American took a very deep breath, as if he needed that one really bad, before gazing steadfast at Arthur's emerald eyes. It held the Briton captive and if it weren't for whatever control he still had over his emotions, he would have missed the words uttered that contained conviction and overwhelming feelings.

"Stay, Arthur. I need you."

He blinked. And blinked some more. It was a lot of blinking before he finally realized that his face is already buried on the soft fabric of Alfred's bomber jacket and his tears staining it.

He cried harder.

And it was all he could do until he heard the last call for flight 1014--- his flight.

He missed it.

But he somehow made his decision now.

To be continued.