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“I can’t wait to move out, I can’t wait to leave this place the world calls GREAT BRITAIN and become independent!”
England always knew to expect that of his brothers.
All of them, especially his eldest brother, Scotland, constantly complained. Even more so when Wales and the Ireland brothers left their home.
“England, ya are such a stuck up twit. I don’t see why I have to be around ye. ‘Least my people are voting though.”
England had watched his beautiful empire, the world he thought was perfect, completely crumble over the last 150 years. He lost so many of his colonies, three of his four brothers...his mother...and now his last and final brother.
“Ye know, mom was one of the only reasons we even kept ye around. Now that’s she’s passed we’re just gonna leave.”
England was standing in the kitchen with his tea, and he was listening to his brother in the living room. His hand shook with the cup in his hand...the hurt was immense.
“I’m actually pretty glad that everyone’s leaving. This empire should have fallen decades ago!”
The teacup slipped from England’s hand and crashed on the floor. The jasmine tea and saucer lay on the tiled floor in pieces.
England lashed out, “FINE! Leave you bloody, good for nothing wanker! I don’t want you here anyway!” He stormed up to his room, leaving the glassy mess on the ground. He had to close the room door before he broke into tears...that was the last thing he wanted his eldest brother to see...how far he’d fallen…
Scotland leaned his head back and let out a long puff of cigarette smoke, “That boy never changes… too bad I have to leave, I’ll miss the little guy.”
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England woke up hours later, he’d fallen asleep crying. He hadn’t done that for a decade...he only cried when he lost someone of his family. He sat up on the floor littered with clothing and other memorable items.
He had America’s old soldier toy, Canada's old stuffed bear with the ripped ear, Seychelles’ favorite kiddy ribbons, dragon novels from Wales’ bookshelf, pressed four leaf bookmarks that the Ireland twins used to use, India’s small pipe that was decorated, France’s old wedding ring, Spain’s sword, Prussia’s old flag, his mom’s favorite teacup...among a pile of their clothes.
Some people found this strange about England...he called these his memories…
England stood back up, realizing that he wasn’t lying uncovered on the floor. He moved the warm object on his body. It was Scotland’s favorite dark blue coat. It was the one that made him look like his flag.
England, instead of throwing it, like he had as a kid, hugged it closer. It smelled like alcohol, cigarette smoke and his brother’s smell.
After a few minutes, England noticed the time...it was time for the vote!
He pulled on his brother’s blue coat and got his brown boots as he ran down to the England-Scotland border, the coat cascading behind him because of its length.
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Scotland stood at the back of the crowd in his dark blue dress shirts and slacks, both his white striped sashed crossing his abdomen, forming the Scotland flag on his body. It was a bit nippy, but he’d left his coat back with his little brother.
It shocked him how emotional and sentimental his brother was. He’d never been in his brother’s room before, but he’d seen objects and clothing that belonged to all the people he once ruled and cared for.
He subsequently left his jacket there as a memory, but as a courtesy too.
Scotland felt a twinge of regret for talking bad about his youngest brother. He had always picked on him, and his brother always seemed to be so strong. But England was secretly in a lot of pain...and he’d just made it worst.
But no more...this was in the hands of his citizens. It wasn’t his choice anymore.
Just then he heard England’s voice, “Brother! Scotland!!”
Scotland turned to see his brother rushing towards him wearing his jacket.
Scotland let out a puff of cigarette smoke, “What are ye doing here, England?”
England panted, out of breath, “You didn’t think...you were going to leave...while I was asleep...now did you?”
Scotland chuckled, “I guess ye are my brother, you’re headstrong like the rest of us. Plus you never wanna miss out do ya?” He gave his little brother a strong noogie, messing up his recently fixed hair.
England swatted his hand, “Don’t do that, you stupid wanker!”
As England smoothed out his blonde mess, Scotland’s devious smile vanished and he told England, “It’s time for the citizens to vote.”
England looked up, “I’m aware...I’m not an idiot.”
Just then he looked at his brother’s hand, “...where are your wedding rings?”
Scotland shrugged, pulling on his leather gloves, “I didn’t think they were necessary for today.” He clenched his gloved fist and then told his brother, “I was married to France and Denmark too long ago. I don’t need them.”
England looked away and Scotland asked, “Ye were mad when I married France, weren’t ya?”
England crossed his arms, “...only because I married him first. And that you were also married to Denmark at the same time when you took France on too.”
Scotland rubbed his red hair, “I’m sorry. I had to marry them, it had to be done.”
England made a devious face, “You’re apologizing Scot? You told me you’d never be sorry for marrying France.”
Scotland smirked back at his cheeky brother, “... ye really are a brat, ya know that?”
Just then, cheers erupted from the crowd behind them. Scotland then pulled on his sashes, ripping the seams that tied them together.
He pulled one off and draped it over his brother’s shoulders, “To brotherhood, ‘kay lil brother?” He raised his hand in salute.
England, almost fighting tears, raised his hand in a returned salute, “...to brotherhood...you damn wanker.” He embraced his brother and for a minute, the cheers of the crowd didn’t matter. Scotland hugged his brother back...it was the first time he knew that his brother was genuinely affected.
The screams behind them were mixed, but England held his brother tight...he didn’t know for how much longer he’d have a chance to hug him.