Paper Hearts
I was quite bored during our visit in my province, so I decided to make this lousy one-shot. Inspired by my classmate's drawing :)
Title: Paper Hearts
Rated: G
Genre: Romance (Fluff?)
Words: 887
Summary: "Like our heart, this paper is fragile, so I asked you to take care of it."
"Engwaand~!" The young boy called with sheer affection, waving a piece of cut paper as he tugged England’s sleeves. The older nation had his brow hoisted whilst lifting America up and let him sit on his lap.
“What have you got here?” He asked, removing the paper from the boy’s hand, unfolding it at the same time. It appeared to be an overly-large paper heart. England let himself smile, but still a question lingering his mind. “It’s nice and all, but of all things you can make, why a heart?”
America grinned as he shifted closer. “France told me that the heart is a symbol of love. And since I love England, I want to give it to you.” Came his reply, a small blush darkening his cheeks.
The latter cleared his throat and kissed the boy’s forehead. It’s…really endearing for America to make such actions. “I promise to take care of it.” He sighed before making the small nation to go down as he stood up to return the book he’s currently reading.
With sheer happiness, America wrapped his arms around England’s waist. “Well, you should also promise that you would have it until I grow up.”
England let out a small chuckle before lifting the boy to his arms. “Then we shall close this deal with a pinky promise.” He said, gesturing his free hand close to America. “Shall we not?”
America nodded, entwining their pinky fingers together.
“Now come. It’s time for your bedtime, little mister.”
~||O||~
But after 2 centuries or more, England even doubted if the paper heart had not yet burnt into ashes or even rotted. He had been keeping it for many years, placed it in one of his books -though he can’t remember what book was it-. But after the revolutionary war and the declaring of independence, the thought of having the paper heart didn’t cross his mind ever since.
So now, during the break of the world conference, he went to somewhere secluded, somewhere he usually comes, under a tree. England placed his briefcase beside him and fished the first book of Jane Austen’s adventures. As he started reading it, something peculiar fell on the grass. He frowned for the distraction and continued his disrupted leisure activity.
But curiosity grew, to the point he can’t comprehend a word, even if he’d read the same sentence umpteen times already. With a sigh, England closed the book, with his forefinger serving as a bookmark and picked the fallen object.
“Bloody hell.” He silently cursed upon unfurling to what seems to be the paper heart he didn’t know had been inside the book for who knows how many years had passed. The texture was no longer smooth, but is crispy and brittle. No longer white, but instead brownish. It’s near to its own destruction. A small smile creep his lips before returning it to where it was nestled for so long. But as he did, it ripped into two.
“How ridiculous.” The blond muttered, staring at it in utter disbelief. “I thought it was forever lost. And here I am, worrying about a meaningless paper which can be replaced easily.”
“Stupid old man.”
England snapped to reality as his eyes wandered over the owner of the voice. “What?”
“I said you’re stupid.” America rolled his eyes, inserting his hand inside the pockets of his bomber jacket. “Have you forgotten what I told you when I gave you that?”
“I do, you bloody idiot.” The older nation retorted, followed by a scoff. “When you were young, you told me that you’re giving it to me because you love me. Am I not right?”
The latter nodded. “And just because it’s made of paper doesn’t mean you can replace it easily.” He added whilst sitting beside his former caretaker. “But if you want it, then we can make another one.”
England raised a brow, confused with what the American had been saying. First, he was disagreeing to replace. And now he wanted to do another one. “You’re weird.”
America clicked his tongue and grabbed a seemingly scratch paper and a pair of scissors. And ever so carefully, yet hastily another paper heart was made. “Like our heart, this paper is fragile, that’s why I asked you to take care of it. But since I was heartbroken, knowing that I can never have you, it also wilted away.” He explicated ever so boldly. Hey, it took willpower for him to do it. “You know why? You never paid attention to it after the war.”
“But it still doesn’t answer why you made another one.” England insisted knowing more. A little isn’t enough, right?
The younger nation scowled. Not a usual expression to see. “Don’t you get it? It means that…why not start over again?” And here he was, thinking that he was the one accused for not reading the atmosphere when the one who judged it can’t even do it.
England spared a long glance over his former colony with the paper heart safely in his hands before laughing like never before, earning a glare from the latter. “You’re corny when it comes to these things.” He uttered between laughs. And as he finally stopped, he wiped invisible tears on his lachrymal ducts. “But for once, I’ll have to say yes. Let’s start over.”
Title: Paper Hearts
Rated: G
Genre: Romance (Fluff?)
Words: 887
Summary: "Like our heart, this paper is fragile, so I asked you to take care of it."
"Engwaand~!" The young boy called with sheer affection, waving a piece of cut paper as he tugged England’s sleeves. The older nation had his brow hoisted whilst lifting America up and let him sit on his lap.
“What have you got here?” He asked, removing the paper from the boy’s hand, unfolding it at the same time. It appeared to be an overly-large paper heart. England let himself smile, but still a question lingering his mind. “It’s nice and all, but of all things you can make, why a heart?”
America grinned as he shifted closer. “France told me that the heart is a symbol of love. And since I love England, I want to give it to you.” Came his reply, a small blush darkening his cheeks.
The latter cleared his throat and kissed the boy’s forehead. It’s…really endearing for America to make such actions. “I promise to take care of it.” He sighed before making the small nation to go down as he stood up to return the book he’s currently reading.
With sheer happiness, America wrapped his arms around England’s waist. “Well, you should also promise that you would have it until I grow up.”
England let out a small chuckle before lifting the boy to his arms. “Then we shall close this deal with a pinky promise.” He said, gesturing his free hand close to America. “Shall we not?”
America nodded, entwining their pinky fingers together.
“Now come. It’s time for your bedtime, little mister.”
~||O||~
But after 2 centuries or more, England even doubted if the paper heart had not yet burnt into ashes or even rotted. He had been keeping it for many years, placed it in one of his books -though he can’t remember what book was it-. But after the revolutionary war and the declaring of independence, the thought of having the paper heart didn’t cross his mind ever since.
So now, during the break of the world conference, he went to somewhere secluded, somewhere he usually comes, under a tree. England placed his briefcase beside him and fished the first book of Jane Austen’s adventures. As he started reading it, something peculiar fell on the grass. He frowned for the distraction and continued his disrupted leisure activity.
But curiosity grew, to the point he can’t comprehend a word, even if he’d read the same sentence umpteen times already. With a sigh, England closed the book, with his forefinger serving as a bookmark and picked the fallen object.
“Bloody hell.” He silently cursed upon unfurling to what seems to be the paper heart he didn’t know had been inside the book for who knows how many years had passed. The texture was no longer smooth, but is crispy and brittle. No longer white, but instead brownish. It’s near to its own destruction. A small smile creep his lips before returning it to where it was nestled for so long. But as he did, it ripped into two.
“How ridiculous.” The blond muttered, staring at it in utter disbelief. “I thought it was forever lost. And here I am, worrying about a meaningless paper which can be replaced easily.”
“Stupid old man.”
England snapped to reality as his eyes wandered over the owner of the voice. “What?”
“I said you’re stupid.” America rolled his eyes, inserting his hand inside the pockets of his bomber jacket. “Have you forgotten what I told you when I gave you that?”
“I do, you bloody idiot.” The older nation retorted, followed by a scoff. “When you were young, you told me that you’re giving it to me because you love me. Am I not right?”
The latter nodded. “And just because it’s made of paper doesn’t mean you can replace it easily.” He added whilst sitting beside his former caretaker. “But if you want it, then we can make another one.”
England raised a brow, confused with what the American had been saying. First, he was disagreeing to replace. And now he wanted to do another one. “You’re weird.”
America clicked his tongue and grabbed a seemingly scratch paper and a pair of scissors. And ever so carefully, yet hastily another paper heart was made. “Like our heart, this paper is fragile, that’s why I asked you to take care of it. But since I was heartbroken, knowing that I can never have you, it also wilted away.” He explicated ever so boldly. Hey, it took willpower for him to do it. “You know why? You never paid attention to it after the war.”
“But it still doesn’t answer why you made another one.” England insisted knowing more. A little isn’t enough, right?
The younger nation scowled. Not a usual expression to see. “Don’t you get it? It means that…why not start over again?” And here he was, thinking that he was the one accused for not reading the atmosphere when the one who judged it can’t even do it.
England spared a long glance over his former colony with the paper heart safely in his hands before laughing like never before, earning a glare from the latter. “You’re corny when it comes to these things.” He uttered between laughs. And as he finally stopped, he wiped invisible tears on his lachrymal ducts. “But for once, I’ll have to say yes. Let’s start over.”