The Silence as Night Falls [2/?]
anonymous
June 1 2010, 18:14:25 UTC
It was his telephone. He knew that. The shrill bell was always demanding his attention. He picked himself up, straightened his pyjamas though no one was there to see him and promptly walked into the bedpost. Curses punctuated each step as he hobbled downstairs and snatched at the receiver, refusing to let his time and pain be wasted by the other end hanging up.
“Hello?”
“Hi, whatcha doing? I wanted to talk to you about this idea I had, it's great, you'll love it.”
Whatever it was, England had severe doubts that this would be the case. Only America could do this. Only America would drag someone downstairs at two in the morning. Only America would consider this the perfect time to share his latest demented plan. Only America would ask a question and then continue talking, regardless of what answer he received.
Not that England was going to hang up.
He stood and listened without hearing, while his mind continued to buzz about its own problems, trying to remember when America had lost his capacity for silent amazement with the world. There was no transition in England's memories from expectant child to independent adult.
“...so if we got the giant robots to carry the planes across the sea, it wouldn't be a problem any more, right? And then we could get on with the more important stuff, like my plan to get a better look at what Russia's doing, only I'll need to borrow your car and some knitting for that one...”
“Why my car?”
“Because I don't want mine to be destroyed.”
“Why knitting?”
“Anyway, it shouldn't take too long for me to start phase one, I'll tell you more about it tomorrow, you'll have to set a decoy so that Russia's not anywhere nearby...”
The words washed back into a general swamp of incoherence. England waited as long as he could, willing some sense of sleepiness to come, but instead he only found his mind drifting irritably back to his earlier thoughts. The first time he'd felt like this, what had been so different? Why was he stuck like this now? If America hadn't been listening he would have hit the wall, hurled the phone to the ground, anything to release some of his frustration. He just wanted to sleep.
He waited long enough that his hands began to mold themselves to the receiver, which he had to peel away from his ear when even America began to wind down. The chatter slowed to a more reasonable pace and finished,
“If you've still got that exploding thing on wheels we could try that. Are you listening?”
“Yes.”
“Usually you've told me to shut up by now. Oh, yeah, the time difference thing. It's not late, is it? You weren't asleep, right?”
England leaned in to the clock, to read the dial in the darkness. Almost four.
“No, it's fine. I'm fine. Don't worry.”
“I wasn't.”
“Good.”
“Really?” There was a long pause. England couldn't be bothered to try and fill it with anything. He knew America would take care of that and was proved correct a second later. “You haven't been ironic at me yet. You haven't even been very sarcastic. Are you sure you're okay?”
“Absolutely. You should be getting ready for the meeting tomorrow, anyway, not talking to me. By which I mean - sod off.”
“That's more like it. See you tomorrow.”
Fumble, click, dial tone. England stood with the receiver in his hand for a full five minutes before hanging up himself and beginning the long trek back upstairs, back to his room, which was still dim and oppressive and riddled with worried thoughts.
He sat in bed. He stared at the wall. It wasn't very interesting. It was still grey, it still did nothing, but it passed the time.
Re: The Silence as Night Falls [2/?]
anonymous
June 1 2010, 19:10:32 UTC
Wow, I really love the prompt and what you've done with it! The way the writing drags on really highlights what England's going through and makes sense.
“Hello?”
“Hi, whatcha doing? I wanted to talk to you about this idea I had, it's great, you'll love it.”
Whatever it was, England had severe doubts that this would be the case. Only America could do this. Only America would drag someone downstairs at two in the morning. Only America would consider this the perfect time to share his latest demented plan. Only America would ask a question and then continue talking, regardless of what answer he received.
Not that England was going to hang up.
He stood and listened without hearing, while his mind continued to buzz about its own problems, trying to remember when America had lost his capacity for silent amazement with the world. There was no transition in England's memories from expectant child to independent adult.
“...so if we got the giant robots to carry the planes across the sea, it wouldn't be a problem any more, right? And then we could get on with the more important stuff, like my plan to get a better look at what Russia's doing, only I'll need to borrow your car and some knitting for that one...”
“Why my car?”
“Because I don't want mine to be destroyed.”
“Why knitting?”
“Anyway, it shouldn't take too long for me to start phase one, I'll tell you more about it tomorrow, you'll have to set a decoy so that Russia's not anywhere nearby...”
The words washed back into a general swamp of incoherence. England waited as long as he could, willing some sense of sleepiness to come, but instead he only found his mind drifting irritably back to his earlier thoughts. The first time he'd felt like this, what had been so different? Why was he stuck like this now? If America hadn't been listening he would have hit the wall, hurled the phone to the ground, anything to release some of his frustration. He just wanted to sleep.
He waited long enough that his hands began to mold themselves to the receiver, which he had to peel away from his ear when even America began to wind down. The chatter slowed to a more reasonable pace and finished,
“If you've still got that exploding thing on wheels we could try that. Are you listening?”
“Yes.”
“Usually you've told me to shut up by now. Oh, yeah, the time difference thing. It's not late, is it? You weren't asleep, right?”
England leaned in to the clock, to read the dial in the darkness. Almost four.
“No, it's fine. I'm fine. Don't worry.”
“I wasn't.”
“Good.”
“Really?” There was a long pause. England couldn't be bothered to try and fill it with anything. He knew America would take care of that and was proved correct a second later. “You haven't been ironic at me yet. You haven't even been very sarcastic. Are you sure you're okay?”
“Absolutely. You should be getting ready for the meeting tomorrow, anyway, not talking to me. By which I mean - sod off.”
“That's more like it. See you tomorrow.”
Fumble, click, dial tone. England stood with the receiver in his hand for a full five minutes before hanging up himself and beginning the long trek back upstairs, back to his room, which was still dim and oppressive and riddled with worried thoughts.
He sat in bed. He stared at the wall. It wasn't very interesting. It was still grey, it still did nothing, but it passed the time.
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Only America would put robots, cars, and knitting together and make it an awesome idea x'D
-bookmarks- ♥♥
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