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Post by England on Mar 20, 2012 15:55:39 GMT -5
0100 Hours
Occasionally letting out gasps of pain, England dragged himself towards the only bed in the room and pulled himself up on it, setting his package from Europe on the table.
The room was very bare. There was a bed, a table, a chair in the corner, and a clock on the wall. Everything was white. England had to close his eyes for the light reflecting off the walls was too bright and gave him a greater headache than he already had.
It all depended on the Nations that he'd sent on the mission. This room would be his home for the next twelve hours that would decide of his fate.
Not even bothering to get under the sheets, England put his hand against his forehead, reveling in its cool touch against his hot skin. And now, all he did was wait.
Wait for what? Even he didn't know.
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Post by America on Mar 20, 2012 17:58:04 GMT -5
America wasn't exactly sure if he was supposed to be in here. He knew it was the quarantine area, which sounded pretty off-limits, but he didn't run into any medics to tell him to get out. Besides, he was the hero! Heroes were supposed to look after their friends!
So, he closed the door behind him then turned and looked over at England. He looked awful. America said that a lot about his friend, since he gave in to stress quite easily, but this time, America truly meant it.
England looked horrible.
America's heart dropped as he slowly made his way to the bed. "So...pretty much everyone's gone, now," he muttered, pulling up the chair and taking a seat. "I thought I'd, ya know, come visit you or something. You look like you could use some company." Actually, he looked more like he needed rest, but America didn't want him to fall asleep.
[[And, because my eyes hurt today, I have decided to stop using small font. First time in two years...]]
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Post by England on Mar 20, 2012 18:14:31 GMT -5
"Oh?" England pulled his arm off of his eyes for a moment and blinked at the new arrival. "Well, what have I done to be graced by your presence?" he raised a brow, but moved to get comfortable anyways. He slipped his left boot and sock off, wiggling his toes as they met fresh air, and removed the many straps across his body, holding his necessities. Once having discarded everything he didn't need, he slipped under the covers with a pained grunt and adjusted his pillow to be able to sit upright in bed.
For a moment, as everything settled down, there was silence. And then, England spoke.
"Are you even sure you want to be here?"
[[I thought there was something different. As you wish, just don't tire yourself out~]]
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Post by America on Mar 20, 2012 19:12:03 GMT -5
"Well, I didn't have anything better to do at the moment. You're not a sight for sore eyes, though. You're looking terrible." He said this with a crooked grin on his face, though the smile didn't fully reach the rest of his face. How could it? He was worried that the mission would fail and England would be- No, stop that, he scolded. The mission won't fail, so quit thinking like it will. He wanted to be happy. He wanted to show how he could be joyful, no matter what the situation.
Except, looking at England like this, the leader of this small group of nations, his heart felt like it was going to break. He couldn't help it if the pessimistic side of him came out.
His smile slowly drifted away and he leaned back in his chair. "Yes," he responded, looking away. "I'm sure I do."
[[It's so weird writing like this. I like it, though!]]
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Post by England on Mar 20, 2012 19:49:53 GMT -5
"Idiot, don't think I'm just some animal in a cage that will entertain you when you're bored..." England growled, and then sighed, loosening up. He had no real reason to be frustrated at America. What was he trying to cover up with his irritation?
"I'll be fine." He had to. It couldn't just end like this, right? He hadn't gone through so many centuries of pain and hardships just to die here, right? "I... I'm sure the others are doing their best as we speak." he had to reason to doubt them. They wouldn't fail him... would they?
He fiddled nervously with his fingers, and bit his lip.
"Why are you really here, then?" he quietly asked, as if shy. "I didn't think you'd want to watch me slowly sink deeper and deeper until one of the two ends to this story is reached."
[[Yeah, it'll take some getting used to ;w;]]
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Post by America on Mar 20, 2012 20:29:37 GMT -5
America smiled when England retaliated. At least he hadn't lost most of his attitude, that much was for sure. "'Course you'll be fine," he agreed. "Even if we argue a lot, everyone here is loyal and strong. The mission will go perfect." He didn't know who he was trying to convince at this point anymore. He supposed he still needed convincing himself.
Falling silent at England's next question, America simply shrugged. He honestly didn't know what he would gain by just...just watching England. He didn't want to see his friend slowly...die? No. England won't die. America refused to believe that any sort of illness could kill of England. Even this. He'd make it through, just as he always did.
He finally decided to reply to England, though he hesitated at first. "I...I just wanna make sure you're...I mean, I don't want you to...to be alone." He blushed furiously, all the while wondering why he was blushing.
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Post by England on Mar 20, 2012 20:49:27 GMT -5
And England immediately decided not to mention that America's words sounded incredibly considerate. He didn't even know the younger Nation had that kind of sensibility.
"Idiot." England huffed and crossed his arms, looking away to try and hide the red dusting his cheeks. "Alone or not, I'll survive until the end." there he went twisting his words again. He'd survive, yes, but in a world so full of life, surviving wasn't enough because he wanted to live.
"W-Well I don't care if you're here or not." he kept on going, convinced that he wasn't saying enough to keep America's attention off his embarrassed expression. "I'm not the most fascinating thing to watch, especially not after the third-level symptoms hit in a few hours." and there he went, making the mood gloomy again.
"You... Do you even know the steps to a full transformation?" he finished a bit more quietly. Because America obviously didn't know. He couldn't know. If he knew what kind of things were coming, he'd get out of there right away, even before the third stage hit.
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Post by America on Mar 21, 2012 14:35:35 GMT -5
America smirked, satisfied that England wasn't going to kick him out or anything. His tense muscles relaxed a bit more and he allowed himself to breathe calmly, despite his immense amount of worries he currently possessed. See, America, he told himself with pride. He wants you here. Plus, he even said so himself that he'll survive. You've got nothing to worry about!
It was when England mentioned the third-level symptoms that America became concerned once more. He only skimmed over the information about zombie bites, thinking that they'd never need to know such a thing. He had been under the mindset that all of them were much too strong for zombies to touch, let alone bite. Now, though, he was forced with the reality of the situation, and he had no clue what was coming.
"A-Actually..." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "I don't know." He was pretty much admitting to ignorance, which was something that everyone associated him with. He was sure England wouldn't be surprised, but he himself was disappointed that he didn't know more.
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Post by England on Mar 21, 2012 18:16:58 GMT -5
"Well, if we didn't have enough reasons to hate this entire load of bullocks already, symptoms advance all too quickly. By the time the Nations on the mission reach their destinations, the third stage will already have stricken. Three hours from now, the fever will rise, along with hallucinations, numbing of extremities, and loss of coordination. Nine hours from now, paralysis in the lower body and slower heart rate. In eleven hours from now, a coma. And fourteen hours from now, I'll die. Sixteen hours from now..."
And he decided to trail off, because he didn't want to say it. He was scared. Terrified. He didn't want to go through all this. He didn't want to die.
"The point is... It won't be fun. You're better off leaving me and going to play your video games, where killing zombies by the dozen holds no real threat and no real danger." he finished in a whisper, putting his hands in his lap and flexing his fingers.
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Post by America on Mar 21, 2012 19:17:55 GMT -5
America's face grew pale once England explained the stages to him. He might have remembered reading something of the sort, but it was all pushed to the back of his mind. Now, though, faced with the fact that England might just die, he wasn't sure what to do. He cleared his throat, trying desperately to think of something happy, of something that would lift his spirits.
Unfortunately, nothing came to mind.
Without even thinking, America reached out and grabbed one of England's hands. "I told you," he muttered, staring down at the ground. He couldn't bear to look at England's face at the moment. "I'm not leaving you alone. I won't."
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Post by England on Mar 21, 2012 21:33:12 GMT -5
"You're a bloody idiot." England sighed, glaring at the top of America's head, ready to turn his gaze away if the boy so much as twitched. He wouldn't be caught dead looking at America like that, admiring his features and the childish heroism his big heart ran around displaying.
And of course, he couldn't bring himself to pull away. America's fingers were big and warm and comforting around his hand. He wondered if America could feel his heartbeat race through the veins in his fingers. His heart pumped against his ribs incessantly, every beat like a lurch that made him want to puke again.
He briefly wondered if this was a part of the symptoms.
"Speak." he quietly whispered, only registering what he'd said after the soft-spoken word had left his lips. "Speak." he repeated, a bit bolder to cover his slip-up. "Talk about something. It's too quiet." he never thought he'd see the day when he'd ask that of America, but he wanted to impregnate himself of the Nations' humanity, at least just until he lost his.
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Post by America on Mar 22, 2012 5:32:11 GMT -5
When England didn't pull his hand away, America let out a sigh of relief and finally looked up, a blush covering his entire face as he offered a shaky smile. He didn't even remember the last time he held England's hand. Was it before his revolution? Perhaps during one of the World Wars. Either way, he never remembered England's hand being so incredibly small in his own.
"Uh..." At England's words, America found himself struggling for something to say, anything to say. "W-Well..." His mind went blank. Funny, how the one time when England asked him to talk, America had nothing to say. "After this all blows over, we're gonna need some nice, hot showers." He ran his other hand through his hair, succeeding in spreading the blood and grime.
Maybe that wasn't the best topic to discuss, actually. He didn't want to dwell on the fact that he and England both still had zombie blood all over them. Still, though, he couldn't very well talk about the beautiful, night sky, could he?
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Post by England on Mar 22, 2012 6:32:08 GMT -5
"Yes, we will. You do smell absolutely repulsive, if I do say so myself." England made a tch noise with his tongue. "I should have taken the time to at least get myself cleaned up a bit. But now that I'm here in this room, I can't leave for the next 24 hours, no matter what happens." he sighed and ran his free hand through his matted hair. "I wish I at least had a towel or something to work with. I don't think I will be able to sleep at all if I stay so grimy and sticky." he took a quick look around the bare room, and frowned. "But no, the condemned have no necessities, it seems." he grumbled very low, rolling his eyes.
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Post by America on Mar 22, 2012 20:02:35 GMT -5
America frowned. "I do not smell repulsive!" he retorted. "I smell perfectly fine." Actually, he was pretty certain he did smell rather bad, but he wasn't going to say so. He actually wanted to have an argument with England, for once. It would remind him of the good times, back before the zombie apocalypse. It gave him a feeling that everything would be fine.
He noticed England looking around the room, and he, too, craned his neck. "Do...do you want me to go get you one?" he asked, though rather reluctant to let go of England's hand. Actually, he was just reluctant to leave England's side.
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Post by England on Mar 22, 2012 20:36:07 GMT -5
"You always smell like burgers, or something just as disgusting. Sometimes, you make me wonder if you have been acquainted with the concept of hygiene." For those rare times, he was there to remind America, and- oh. Oh, remembering such gentle, light memories made his heart wrench right out of his chest.
England studied America for a moment, and then sighed, shrugging.
"I guess the best I could do is look presentable for the Reaper." he smirked bitterly, squeezing America's hand once more before letting go so he could adjust his pillow back down. "It would be appreciated. Even more so if you could possibly bring a bucket, a bowl of water, and towels." he stretched and laid down, letting his matted hair hit the pillow with a soft noise. "I... I think I'm going to close my eyes a little. I do admit that the night's challenges have worn me down a bit."
True enough, his eyelids were quickly drooping, and although he didn't want to lose sight of America for even a moment, he couldn't do a thing as his vision blurred, and then faded to black.
Spread out on the blankets, his left hand curled lightly into a fist, searching for heat that England so desperately wanted to find as he sunk into a restless sleep.
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