part 10 ; Sing Sung Songs [19/?]
anonymous
September 13 2010, 06:40:50 UTC
Intrigued and concerned England asks warily, “What is it?”
“Do you…” America starts but in a stronger voice, smiling beguilingly- “Remember what I said to you before you drifted off into sleep..?”
Sleep… come to think of it he’d rummaged through an awful lot of clothes this morning, curious since he was so good at folding and putting everything away neatly that even if he were to come home more drunk than a tragic heroine’s father in one of Russia’s novels he’d still have remembered to take his clothes off (he was actually more likely to come home without any than not take them off), but still that’d mean there’d have been only one set on the floor and why is America wearing a robe. And his hair looking still a bit damp like he’d just had a shower- oh.
Oh…
“Didn’t you tell me,” England replies, it’s rather sharp, “-it was nothing?”
America’s nose scrunches up but his mouth breaks up out into a grin that makes England’s heart jolt, skip. Like it had- yes like it had in the bar when Canada had been yelling and America had been yelling back for him- for him- oh Canada knew-
“I’ve been thinking.”
England looks up from his train of thought, attention focused in on the next words America says.
“We should become lovers.”
His heart is in his throat, everything is in his fucking throat, all that gets through is a befuddled confused- “What..?”
“In order to become strong once more we need to go out.”
It was starting to sound like one of Japan’s storylines for those comic book things or one of the video games he lent America to play and- hadn’t it been his invention all along. The oldest, the only way England had made America his and now again America wanted to…
“Why are you doing this?”
England asks with eyes hollow, spine stiff.
America only keeps smiling as if that smile can’t leave his face and it sends a chill through England.
“I know England. I know why you did all those things. I said it to Canada last night. I’ll say it to you need be. You need not hide it any longer. There is nothing to hide! You made me strong so I could become a nation, to that end-” a big breath that puffs his chest out, America is cheerful when he continues, as he was- “you pushed me. You never let me down, you never gave me a moment’s chance for weakness.”
Then on that day while he’d been crying in the rain, thinking he’s not mine, he’s not mine any more he doesn’t want to be mine he never wanted to be mine that had been- what? What was that to America?
(It had been, America with his brow tense and twisted in sympathy “You used to be so big” regret that perhaps England wept because finally America was a nation, but not only was he a nation he was turning into a nation stronger than England himself…)
Or something like that.
And that was why-
“WE cannot continue on as we are now. If we become as we were before- just think England! What we could be! How strong we will become together! And then! No one can stop us! No one can hurt us! Or push us around!”
Not that there were many who could, but what America was suggesting was that together they could overcome, rise above, all the other nations as if-
“Then it would just be the two of us.”
England bursts into a smile, turning sharply, he clutches at America’s arms that instant of euphoria taking over all his senses and-
-dying.
America doesn’t
love
him
Not that he does not know how, only he doesn’t know what it really is which is why this plot exists (but is it not also a chance?) and England’s throat constricts that lump choking, he-
“How about it England?”
And England lifts his dreary head, and turns to answer, face contorted with regret.
“America, I-”
--
Canada can’t stop him.
He’d tried, the fastest one had even seen him move, to grab at France’s shirt right before he’d rushed out the door. It wasn’t enough. Wasn’t enough to cease France’s furious steps as he made his way to England’s place. A churning march, embodied invasion, in his feet and coursing through his veins as he quickly weaved about through the streets of London. Feeling angry, betrayed but most of all-
“Do you…” America starts but in a stronger voice, smiling beguilingly- “Remember what I said to you before you drifted off into sleep..?”
Sleep… come to think of it he’d rummaged through an awful lot of clothes this morning, curious since he was so good at folding and putting everything away neatly that even if he were to come home more drunk than a tragic heroine’s father in one of Russia’s novels he’d still have remembered to take his clothes off (he was actually more likely to come home without any than not take them off), but still that’d mean there’d have been only one set on the floor and why is America wearing a robe. And his hair looking still a bit damp like he’d just had a shower- oh.
Oh…
“Didn’t you tell me,” England replies, it’s rather sharp, “-it was nothing?”
America’s nose scrunches up but his mouth breaks up out into a grin that makes England’s heart jolt, skip. Like it had- yes like it had in the bar when Canada had been yelling and America had been yelling back for him- for him- oh Canada knew-
“I’ve been thinking.”
England looks up from his train of thought, attention focused in on the next words America says.
“We should become lovers.”
His heart is in his throat, everything is in his fucking throat, all that gets through is a befuddled confused- “What..?”
“In order to become strong once more we need to go out.”
It was starting to sound like one of Japan’s storylines for those comic book things or one of the video games he lent America to play and- hadn’t it been his invention all along. The oldest, the only way England had made America his and now again America wanted to…
“Why are you doing this?”
England asks with eyes hollow, spine stiff.
America only keeps smiling as if that smile can’t leave his face and it sends a chill through England.
“I know England. I know why you did all those things. I said it to Canada last night. I’ll say it to you need be. You need not hide it any longer. There is nothing to hide! You made me strong so I could become a nation, to that end-” a big breath that puffs his chest out, America is cheerful when he continues, as he was- “you pushed me. You never let me down, you never gave me a moment’s chance for weakness.”
Then on that day while he’d been crying in the rain, thinking he’s not mine, he’s not mine any more he doesn’t want to be mine he never wanted to be mine that had been- what? What was that to America?
(It had been, America with his brow tense and twisted in sympathy “You used to be so big” regret that perhaps England wept because finally America was a nation, but not only was he a nation he was turning into a nation stronger than England himself…)
Or something like that.
And that was why-
“WE cannot continue on as we are now. If we become as we were before- just think England! What we could be! How strong we will become together! And then! No one can stop us! No one can hurt us! Or push us around!”
Not that there were many who could, but what America was suggesting was that together they could overcome, rise above, all the other nations as if-
“Then it would just be the two of us.”
England bursts into a smile, turning sharply, he clutches at America’s arms that instant of euphoria taking over all his senses and-
-dying.
America doesn’t
love
him
Not that he does not know how, only he doesn’t know what it really is which is why this plot exists (but is it not also a chance?) and England’s throat constricts that lump choking, he-
“How about it England?”
And England lifts his dreary head, and turns to answer, face contorted with regret.
“America, I-”
--
Canada can’t stop him.
He’d tried, the fastest one had even seen him move, to grab at France’s shirt right before he’d rushed out the door. It wasn’t enough. Wasn’t enough to cease France’s furious steps as he made his way to England’s place. A churning march, embodied invasion, in his feet and coursing through his veins as he quickly weaved about through the streets of London. Feeling angry, betrayed but most of all-
Sad.
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