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cottondo · 2 years

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USUK angst |

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SHORT STORY // Independence Day

It was a particularly drizzly day in the streets of England. The sky was quite grey, and the streets were flooding with rainfall.

Arthur hadn’t seemed to mind that, though. He knew just how much his country liked to rain, and he was quite fond of it, really. It seemed to place a sense of calm over him. He would sit with a warm cup of tea, and read from his favorite book on days like today.

Although, today was a bit different than what his usual schedule called for.

His American ‘friend’ Amelia had invited herself over for the day. The Brit wasn’t exactly sure why, but he accepted it nonetheless. She spoke somewhere along the lines of having to talk to him about something . . he wasn’t sure. The phone call lasted maybe a minuet, and as usual, she was obnoxiously loud into the speaker. The British nation could barely understand a word of whatever mumbo jumbo the American spoke of.

Arthur had just taken his kettle off the stovetop and poured himself a warm cuppa. The coffee pot that was collecting dust sat at the edge of his countertop, plugged in and brewing up a mug of coffee for Amelia, once she arrived. She had bought it for him a while back in attempt to get him to drink more coffee. Or, rather, it was there for emergency visits such as these when the girl wanted to drink some when over at his house.

Maybe she had boy problems again and wanted to rant to someone about it.

Arthur wasn’t the one she would want to hear from if that were the case. He’d usually give her the right piece of mind, and it was all things she didn’t want to hear. So, then they’d argue over it.

A simple routine the Brit had gotten sick of over time. They just didn’t see eye to eye . . Maybe that was why she wanted her independence from him so badly.

The mere thought made him want to vomit.

Sure, he still liked her. Maybe in different ways than before. For reasons he wasn’t quite sure of why. It was odd, and he’d never admit it out loud to himself, or anyone else. He barely had wanted to admit it to himself in his own head.

Arthur sat in the living room awaiting her. Soon, he heard the front door open, and loud shouting followed. The door slammed behind her.

Oh boy. What was she on about now?

Amelia had entered the room with an irritated pout on her face. It had been an unbelievably irritating day, to say the least.

‘Amelia, do this— Amelia, go answer that phone call— AMELIA, GO BRING ME MY LUNCH, AND FINISH THIS CONFERENCE CALL, NOW!’ .

She had enough of her boss for one day. He wouldn’t leave her alone ! She needed somebody to vent to about it, and though Arthur was far from her list of people she wanted to run to, everybody else had been busy.

Francis was off doing something with Antonio today, Matthew wasn’t even a thought— Yào wasn’t that close with Amelia; and she was pretty sure that Ivan had a death threat for her . . so that left Arthur.

“Dude! You won’t even believe what my day has been like! I have so much to say, I don’t even know where to start.” She yelled into the house. Amelia wasn’t exactly sure where the Brit was, but she knew he was around. Probably sitting in his chair with a cup of tea in his hand like usual. That boring bastard. He was so predictable.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee entered her nose. The American rushed into the kitchen, the one she knew her way around all too well, and continued on with her rantings.

“I can hardly wait to hear.” She heard Arthur call from the family room. The same hints of sarcasm tracing his words. She ignored it. “So, first of all,” she rolled her eyes, throwing in the bits of sugar and cream into her coffee. As she snatched her cup, she made her way into the living room. “My boss has been hounding me all day. I felt like his damn dog! He had been barking orders to me since I went into office this morning!”

Arthur leaned his temple into his knuckles, elbow propped up on the arm of the chair. He could hardly wait to hear all of this on such a calm, quiet day.

He didn’t care about listening to her rants about her job as a country. If she stayed by his side instead of deciding to become independent, he’d have been able to handle these things for her. Maybe life could be easier, and the girl wouldn’t have to be put under such stresses.

“What happened this time, dearest.” He spoke with narrowed eyes, another sarcastic word coming into play.

Amelia caught the attitude and glared back. “What didn’t happen.” She crossed her arms over her chest as she sat down on the love seat.

“Second of all, I get into the office because he called me in. He tells me I need to start showing up even earlier than I do. And mind you, I go in at five A.M every morning.” She begins her rantings, earning more of the Brits attention. Her venting had started to capture him.

It almost seemed more amusing listening to her bunches of misfortunes than reading one of his favorite books, or watching a show. Amelia had seemed to live a very lively, busy life most of her days. Arthur couldn’t relate to that much.

Other than arguing with the other countries, or playing with his cat on the sullen days of the week, the Englishman hadn’t had many people to hang out with. On days his brothers would come to visit, it mostly felt like torture. He’d rather be drunk in an alleyway than deal with those nuts he’s forced to call family.

Then, something inside Arthur tweaked:

“Maybe you shouldn’t have become independent then.” He crosses his leg over the other, and grabbed a cloth from his chest pocket.

It was true, if she hadn’t claimed herself independent, none of these things would be happening, and life could be much more simple for her; in his eyes, anyway. Arthur could have done the things for her instead.

Here it was— that sickening feeling he’d get, like when it was her birthday.

Arthur coughed into the hand that held the towel, and he had unintentionally spit up blood. A thing that started happening over time since she had split from him.

Amelia’s face had turned from anger to guilt in a matter of seconds as she saw the male looking ill. She still wasn’t too sure why he had gotten like that over the bitter topic. And perhaps she’d never know. Amelia was too afraid to ask why he’d get that way.

“Can you just listen to me for once without starting some stupid argument?” Amelia furrowed her brows at him. She had enough guilt inside of her as it was, she didn’t want to be brought up with these painful memories.

It felt hard to suppress on certain days like rainy ones such as these;

The way the rain had hit the ground that day, surrounding the deflated Brit. The way he broke down to his knees whilst sobbing into his hands. Amelia didn’t know how to feel about those memories. She felt horrible for making him feel the way he felt, but she also felt horrible being stuck under his belt for everything. It was her time to finally have a day and make rules of her own.

She saw how well that all turned out for her . .

“It’s not like I wanted this.” She huffed, looking away. “Seeing you like that, I mean.” The blonde hated seeing him sick. It only happened at mentioning this specific topic— especially on her birthday. That day was the worst of the year. He’d come stumbling up to her ready to throw up, or pass out from weakness. Or there were times he be too drunk to function out words, ending in a depressing attempt to cry for her to come back to him.

Amelia couldn’t help but to feel guilty for the way his body would react to such things. It was her fault, after all. She split from him. And what had been the worst part of all . . she began to realize her true feelings of guilt weren’t just guilt.

There were feelings of some type of romantic emotion that began to grow throughout the last few recent years.

It felt a little selfish of her, but a part of her almost wanted him. Amelia didn’t know why she felt this way— it was more like an unexpected crush that happened over time. Sure, Amelia felt a bit wrong for feeling such things towards the Brit, but she couldn’t seem to help it after a while of coming to terms with it. Maybe this was the reason she was never around as much anymore.

Would she ever say that she felt like that to him? Hm- probably not. And even if the subject were to come up at any random time, she’d probably still try and deny it.

Amelia felt embarrassed.

Not because she grew feelings for HIM; it wasn’t anything against Arthur. She felt more as if he were to find out, he’d make fun of her for it. The American didn’t know why she felt like he’d say such things, but Amelia knew something would probably go wrong.

She’d never live it down.

Maybe he thought it was wrong too. But, after all, all of them were immortal, and she hadn’t had many others to choose from. Nobody had a history like these two did. Francis was certainly out of the question; they had gotten along well, but Amelia felt a bit weirded out around him some days.

All of the other countries just weren’t the same. And being with a human was just too painful. Having to watch them grow without her growing old as well, then just one day . . they were gone.

Amelia was terrified of what Arthur could say to her about it. Arthur probably didn’t even care about her as much as he says he does. Amelia figured he boasted about her, or took her side defensively just for looks. The American wasn’t sure anymore. Her mind felt heaps of emotion and didn’t know what to do with it all. So like always, she would slap on a big smile and be obnoxious for everyone else.

“Well,” the Brit scoffed, wiping his mouth with a sudden embarrassment. “You sure seemed like you’d been planning it for quite some time.” He felt the same bitterness in his chest he had felt the day it happened. It was as if his entire world came crashing down on him all over again.

“Look, dude, I don’t want to get into this.” Amelia rested her legs up on the couch and set down her mug of coffee. She looked rather tired, the Englishman thought to himself.

Maybe she wasn’t in the mood for his bullshit today either.

“All I’m saying, is that I’d be able to help, but you don’t want that.” Arthur shrugged. Another coughing fit happened, and he spit into the bloody handkerchief. Discarding it, he grabbed a new one from his other pocket, tightly gripping it with anxiety. He saw the furrowed browed look she gave him.

“I can do things on my own. It’s not that I don’t want your help, I just want you to listen to me! But you still can’t— even now.” Amelia found herself crossing her arms over her chest. It guarded her from his negative energies.

“I listen! I have to get stuck listening to your venting rampages even if I have no say in the bloody matter! You come in unannounced, then wreck the place.” Arthur grit his teeth, leaning forward with annoyance in his seat.

“Wow. I’m sorry! God forbid I come to you when I need somebody. Why do I bother giving your lonely ass attention?” Amelia frowned. “I thought you were supposed to be someone I could trust. I guess I should have figured that out from the beginning.” Amelia barked back, brow clearly creased with frustration.

“This isn’t how I wanted us to be.” She let out a heavy sigh.

Arthur froze. He desperately wanted to scream at her. But something told him not to.

“I—“ he paused, mind drifting away into nothingness. No words that could come out would sound right. So maybe he shouldn’t even speak at all. Amelia obviously wanted to say more, but it seemed like she held back too.

She wasn’t looking for a fight, she was looking to be honest. And maybe it was a wake up call for Arthur.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring that up,” he sighed out.

Amelia didn’t know why, but she felt like crying. Maybe it was all of the stress throughout the day finally getting to her. Today had been a horrible day, then to conclude it, Arthur made it worse. She just wanted one person to listen to her venting without being interrupted or chewed at.

Her eyes became glossy as she desperately reached for her warm mug. It comforted the tips of her fingers and she sipped on it carefully. Arthur had noticed her unusually silent body.

He wondered what it was that made her go so quiet. She was always looking to be right. So, why wasn’t she trying to be?

The silence wasn’t comforting or peaceful anymore. It was awkward and stiff. The air was thick, with a tension he wasn’t fond of.

“Amelia, I—”

The American felt tears and emotions trying to climb up the back of her throat. Her voice began to shake as she would try to speak. “Can I just talk about my day?”

Not with her usual loud, cheery voice had she spoke. It had sounded torn down, and beaten. She was such a strong girl, to Arthur it seemed like there was almost nothing that she couldn’t do. So, things must have really been rough if she wasn’t able to compose herself.

The Englishman didn’t even remember the last time he had seen her cry. It was such a long time ago, he’d probably be convinced she never cried. Amelia was always as happy as she could be.

He wished to feel like that too.

“Why doesn’t anybody ever want to listen to me lately? All I want is to just,” her voice wobbled and shook. She inhaled and exhaled softly, trying to regain her composure. “be heard. Like, man, is that so freakin’ hard?” The soft fake laugh effortlessly escaped her lips in a sarcastic manor. She felt herself sink into the couch with the mug gripped tightly in her hands.

“I’m sorry.” Arthur felt a sort of guilt creeping up his spine. He didn’t mean to make her feel bad . . but arguing was just so much easier. After all, he was in the right, here.

“Why don’t you start over . . You said something about having to go in earlier, right?” He furrowed his brows.

Amelia nodded, sitting with her legs criss crossed, sniffling her nose a bit.

“Uhm, yeah. So,” her mind wandered. It all led up to all the emotions she and Arthur had been suppressing for years. Something they refused to talk about. But it needed to be spoken about. Things needed to be cleared up.

“I don’t know. Things just weren’t working out for me today. It felt like everything has just been going wrong.” She let out a heavy sigh. Arthur felt his face falter between her expressions.

Something about seeing Amelia look so down really bothered something inside of him. He wasn’t sure if it was the past him trying to dig himself up and protect her, or if it were because he just truly cared for her.

“I’m really sorry.” Her voice cracked, and she set down her mug. “Dude, I don’t want things to be this way anymore. I can’t handle anything on my own lately. It’s so hard.” Tears began to weld up in Amelia’s eyes, and just as she tried to hold them back, she couldn’t anymore. A few streamed down her face and she knew that was it.

The american didn’t want to show that sign of weakness in front of the Brit, but it happened. It was too late now.

“I don’t know what to do. I feel like everything I’m doing is wrong, according to my Boss.” She shrugged, “He doesn’t respect me anymore. Britain— a-am I doing something wrong? Am I really not that great of a leader,” she began to babble on through her thoughts.

Arthur sat straight in his chair and stared wide eyed. Was this another one of her tricks? She would fake being upset in order to get something out of people quite often— but this . . he wasn’t too sure.

“Amelia, don’t be silly.” He chuckled, looking away. “You’re not fooling me with this whole thing again.” His smirk quickly faded once she looked up at him with a glare. “What the hell, dude! I’m not joking around!” She stood, face red with embarrassment. “You know what, I’m out.”

Arthur wished he could take back what he said.

Ugh, what an idiot. Why did he have to say that?

He stood forward and grabbed her wrist, stopping her from going anywhere. She looked down and tried to yank it back. “Let go of me.” She growled.

Unfortunately, the Brit was stronger.

He pulled her to sit on the couch beside him and he sighed. “Amelia, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were being serious.”

Tears began streaming down her face once again, alerting Arthur.

“Why would I be joking about something like this?” She snared.

“You cry almost all the time to make me feel bad for you, twat!” He glared back at her. He kept his soft grip on her arm, not allowing her to move anywhere. Amelia snuck her knees to her chest and she looked away with a heavy sigh.

“You’re an asshole.”

Britain smirked under his breath. “I know.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Now, come now. What’s with all of this crying? You’re a great leader. I know I may not say it often, or nearly at all— but . . you do a great job at making your country stabile.” He huffed, removing his grip from her.

Amelia was surprised to hear him say that.

Was he serious?

“Really?” Her voice included hope.

“Yes, you twit. Of course.” The blond male felt his face feel a slight bit of heat. “And although it still hurts for me to say it, but . . you gaining your own independence was probably for the best.” He choked down the vile pain crawling up his throat. “You’ve made a great place. Look at all of the amazing things you’ve done!” He smiles.

Amelia didn’t know what to say. She wanted to smile at him, but it was still hard. A part of her thought he was only saying that to make her feel better. He didn’t -really- mean it.

“I don’t know,” she sighs out, “I don’t feel like I’ve done enough good.” Amelia struggled to get those words out. She hated feeling down about herself. Amelia was supposed to be the confident one!

“Nonsense.” Arthur tapped her shoulder. He would try to offer her another smile, but it seemed hard to do as well. “You just have a very . .” Pausing, his brain searched for the right word, “different, way of doing things, is all.” He pressured a smile to his face.

Amelia peeked up at him from being buried into her arms atop her knees. “I like to add style to my work.” She sniveled.

Arthur held back an insult that came to mind, and instead, rolled his eyes. He then cleared his throat.

Amelia had glanced him over carefully. Her heart had been pounding inside her chest. Was now the wrong time to be feeling this way towards him?

All she wanted to do right now was kiss that smug look off his face.

The girl cringed at herself and gripped her own arms tightly. “Thank you.” Amelia spoke softly.

Arthur nodded, sensing a sort of odd tension between him and the girl. Was it wrong to have been liking Amelia the way he had grown to like her over the past year?

He wasn’t sure anymore.

“Sure, whatever.” He responded rather cold. He didn’t mean for it to come out that way, but it did.

Amelia sighed softly, collecting her thoughts at hand. “England,” she spoke carefully, earning his attention. He furrowed a brow down at the sound of his country name. “I’m sorry.”

Now he was just confused. What was she on about now?

“For what?”

“I know about your illness. I know it’s because of me,” her head keeps buried into her arms. She stares with widened eyes down at the couch beneath her.

“And I’m so sorry.”

Arthur coughed into his sleeve, narrowing his vision to her again. He was at a loss for words. What was he even supposed to say? That it was okay? It wasn’t.

He didn’t blame her for him feeling this way, but it certainly wasn’t a fun thing to have happen.

“It’s really not so terrible,” Arthur lied, in hopes to make her feel somewhat better on this horrid day of today.

“Don’t lie to me.” She lifted her head to view him over. “I know how bad you get.”

Her eyes sunk into his soul.

He looked down, a face full of guilt. He seemed more guilty of what he was going to say next, “Maybe if you didn’t leave me,” His voice began to rock. He sounded painfully hurt. “Separating yourself from me. Taking out all of my men,” his body leaned back into the couch, earning her full attention.

“I needed you. I wanted you by my side, Amelia!” He exclaimed painfully.

“I know. And I’m sorry.”

Arthur felt something cold grab his hand. It was Amelia’s. She gripped it tighter, bringing it to her chest. The girl kept her knees crunched at her chest, and she practically cradled his hand.

“Why couldn’t you have just stayed? Instead of having to have things your way.”

“Hurting you wasn’t really my intention. But, you also hurt me.” She mumbled.

Arthur felt frozen, stuck in time. He hadn’t felt her like that before. She felt broken, hurt. Yet, comforting, in a melancholy sort of way.

“You pushed too hard on me. Always judging me,” her brows furrowed at the wall ahead as memories from those days filled her mind. “You never liked me for me. You never let me be me.” Her head turned to look at him.

Arthur was just as guilty. He hated that feeling. It filled his chest with dread. He couldn’t imagine how that must have felt for her. Why did he try so hard to make her seem perfect? She was already far beyond that.

“I tried making you into something you’re not. I tried making you me.” He sighed out. “I’m sorry, too.” With his taken hand, he held onto her hand tighter.

Using his free hand, Arthur coughed into the stained cloth, spitting out slight bits of blood.

“Ugh,” the Brit groaned out sourly, “bloody hell.”

Amelia had tears dripping down her cheeks again. She felt so . . confused. She was mad, yet, horrified with guilt.

“It’s okay.” She mumbled. “I forgive you.”

He looked at her with confusion. “You do?”

She nodded gently. “How could I not,” a soft sigh escaped from her. “You’re a tough one to get out of mind.”

Arthur was . . confused. What did she mean by that? Were his thoughts just twisting her words into something greater, or was she saying what he thought she meant?

“I am rather amazing.” He tried to give her a smirk in hopes it would lighten up her flow of tears. It seemed to work, only briefly, before her weakened smile was returned with a frown.

“Britain, I don’t want us to fight anymore. Can we just, like, be cool, dude?” She offered him in hopes he’d respond.

Arthur thought it over in his head. He wanted that. No more fighting. No more bickering between the two of them like spoiled children. He would have to be there for her, just like he always promised he would be.

“Yes,” he nodded. “I’d like that, very much.”

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