[Fic] Meltdown
Rating: K+
Summary: He let go, he really did. He kept on telling himself that, but he found himself looking back. [America, England]
Warning/s: Lots of creeper in this fic, idk. I should really stop recycling the same setting over and oveeer again.
Note/s: Written for iu_fanfiction's 28th Challenge // prompt: Anino (Shadow).
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He let go.
He had done that a month ago already, but every time he catches himself thinking a little too deeply, he asks himself more about it. The war was fought and won, wasn’t it? There’s really nothing to ponder about. The only thing he’s supposed to be worrying over was the reconstruction of his land- which was really rightfully his now, all his, and no longer England’s.
He found himself looking back.
Did you let go, or was he the one who broke away from you?
He shook the thought off with a laden laughter before it starts to corrupt his mind and capture his senses.
He let go, he really did.
He briefly wondered what England- in all his misery, hah!- was doing right now.
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Christmas season came fast, and for once he wasn’t really looking forward to it. When he used to be England’s colony Christmas season meant England would stay and look after him. England would often complain about the other Europeans and how stuck-up those chaps were, but he’d listen to every complaints England would vent out. It didn’t matter; all that mattered was that England was there, and he’d stay until the season ends.
He caught himself again.
He found himself raiding the kitchen that night. It was hard enough to keep on reminding himself that he was searching for coffee, not tea.
Never tea.
-
When they finally met, there was barely an exchange of words and even the slightest of gestures between them, which he really could use right now. No exchange of profanities, either. Just stares that set them so much apart, that even when they’re standing close like this the distance was noticeable.
For the first time he was afraid to initiate anything.
He didn’t ask for this. He only meant to be by himself when he broke away from England. He didn’t want the ties that they managed to establish together be severed entirely.
He feared that just one word could break England, this England who was still wielding accusing green eyes at him- eyes that were so deep he felt himself drowning in their intensity.
And England was only staring, his face blank, his eyes as cold as winter. He was only staring, his lips fixed in an easy frown, his form rigid.
England was only staring, up, up at him now. There’s no more accusation evident in his eyes, but the impact was still as great as ever.
He found himself drawn to that fierceness.
-
He couldn’t quite understand. Didn’t he let go already?
Fucking let go already.
He brought his hands all over his face and squeezed his eyes shut. It wasn’t therapeutic, no, it would pass. Like any other, like withstanding a heartache that shouldn’t even have existed, like trying to overcome a little fear when he was a colony-
In the darkness he could still make out the outline of England’s face, and those eyes that shone green in the most painful way he could’ve ever imagined.
He shook the thought off with a laden laughter before it starts to corrupt his mind and capture his senses.
He let go, he really did.
It’s just a matter of time before he completely forgets.
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END
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