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Post by England on Mar 24, 2012 12:29:06 GMT -5
"Y-You promised..."
"Then I'll call you Big Brother."
"Don't... Slip up... Again." he whispered, closing his eyes and taking panting breaths through his mouth. His entire existence was fuzzy. He couldn't see straight, couldn't think straight, couldn't articulate straight. The prospect of impending death terrified him, but he couldn't help but enjoy, somewhere in the recesses of his feverish mind, America's proximity.
This was one of those times where he felt at peace through the terror and pain.
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Post by America on Mar 24, 2012 12:47:29 GMT -5
If anything could make him feel guilty, it was England's words. Again... America thought, a frown forming on his face. Don't slip up again. He repeated those words in his head before finally letting out a small sigh.
"Never," he muttered, looking away from England. "I'll always be with you." Saying such words calmed him as he realized how much he truly meant them. Even if England went through hell and back during the next few hours, America wasn't going to move. He'd be there for England all the while, throughout everything. His frown soon disappeared, replaced by a smile. "You'll stay with me, though...right?"
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Post by England on Mar 24, 2012 12:59:25 GMT -5
"Heh..." England panted, cracking open his eyes enough to see America, and smirked weakly. "Idiot... That's all I'm trying to do right now." he chuckled shakily, and then breathed deeper. "Besides... It would be troublesome if I did die. Poor Japan would be the one to have to bear your whining all the time." he gently let the smile die on his face. "And... He's have to chastise you when you eat too many burgers... And he'd have to remind you to have your speeches ready for meetings... And he'd have to let you stay at his house when you watch too many horror movies and can't sleep..."
A wave of sadness washed over him as he trailed off.
And England suddenly realized at that moment that dying was not an option. He had to fight back. He had to live.
If for nothing else, then he'd fight for America once again.
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Post by America on Mar 24, 2012 15:08:19 GMT -5
America laughed once England started talking, though he had to nearly force it out of his mouth. "Yeah. That would suck for poor Japan, wouldn't it? I don't think he could handle it. I think only you can handle me." He shifted in his spot, staring over at England. Come to think of it, only England has been doing every single one of these things for me. He's dealt with me no matter what the problem.
Japan wouldn't do all that for him, no matter how great of friends they were. Hell, even Canada couldn't replace England. He blinked, the laughter gone. "On-Only you can do all that, England," he whispered.
If England were to die, what would he do?
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Post by England on Mar 24, 2012 22:00:24 GMT -5
"Of course I can. I'm the only one that can bear your incessant complaining because I-" Because he...? He didn't even know how to complete the sentence. How did he feel about America? Though he wasn't going to say it any time soon, he had to admit that he cared about America. Could that be why he bore his every whim through every situation?
Faking a sudden pain, England gasped and curled up to avoid having to finish his sentence. He wasn't ready to complete it. He didn't know how.
"Stupid idiot..." he whispered after a bit. "I'd do it any time. You can't keep yourself out of trouble without me." he let a very small fond smile grace his features. "Now please get me a thermometer and a bowl of water with a towel. I think my head is going to explode." he looked at up at America, fever clouding his eyes, and hesitated for a bit before loosening his grip.
"Just promise you'll come back."
"Just promise you won't leave me alone."
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Post by America on Mar 25, 2012 10:47:12 GMT -5
America drew his hands back slowly, not wanting to leave England's side. However, he knew he had to. If he were to take care of England, it was only natural to stray from his side for a few quick minutes. "Promise," he replied, gathering up the bowl with the dirty, lukewarm water. "I'll be right back." He gave the other country a grin before hurrying off, carefully shutting the door behind him so as to not make too much noise.
As he gathered the necessary materials, he thought over all that had been said between the two. It was deep, probably one of the deeper conversations he'd had with England. He was shocked when he realized just how incredibly dear England was to him. Well, of course you like him, America. He's like your brother! Somehow, though, America knew that wasn't exactly it.
As he filled the bowl up with clean water, making certain it wasn't too hot, his cheerful demeanor slipped. Funny how it takes dying to make me realize how important he is...
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Post by England on Mar 25, 2012 11:10:11 GMT -5
England watched America go, every step like a heavier weight on his chest. His clouded eyes followed the younger man until the door, and stared at the exact spot where he'd disappeared for a while before turning back to the ceiling.
He didn't know anything anymore. He could always blame it on the infection making him so confused, but deep inside, he knew he was genuinely lost.
What was America, anyways? Or, more specifically, what was America to him? A little brother he'd watched grow up and had seen leave his side without being able to do anything about it, yes, but... Was that all? America was very obviously important to him, and he very obviously wanted nothing more than to see him happy.
Parental instinct? No, that couldn't be it. The platonic relationship they treasured so much once so long ago faded to nothing on that fateful day. Then what was it? What was it that was pushing him to breathe, to fight, to survive?
What was it that was pushing him to live?
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Post by America on Mar 25, 2012 11:23:06 GMT -5
After finding the thermometer, America made his way back into the small room, walking slowly so as to make sure he didn't spill a drop of the water. "Got it all," he exclaimed with a wide smile, pushing his confused emotions aside for the sake of England's well-being. He handed the thermometer over and set the water and clean towels down on the table, pulling it even closer to England.
As he began to immerse on of the towels in the water, he glanced over at his friend, willing the thermometer to stay at a low degree. Maybe, he thought, if the temperature was low, it would mean that the bite wasn't affecting him as much. Or as quickly. Either way would give America a bit more peace.
Wringing the towel to make sure it was just a bit wet, he settled it on England's forehead. "I don't think I've ever really taken care of, uh...someone who's sick," he admitted. "I remember, though, that a damp towel will make you feel better."
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Post by England on Mar 25, 2012 11:33:24 GMT -5
"You used to get sick all the time, you silly boy." England grumbled, taking the thermometer and turning it on. "Leave it to me. Just... Stay." he added with a slight blush before shoving the thermometer under his tongue to avoid having to speak.
The coolness of the towel felt nice against his burning skin. He briefly wondered if his fever had already reached the maximum, or if it would continue to go up. He hoped not. Though it wasn't for his sake. He had gone through worse, but... He just didn't want America to look so worried. It wrenched his heart to see the younger man so preoccupied, and to be honest with himself, he had to admit that seeing that expression on his face alone hurt a whole lot more than all the symptoms combined.
The thermometer beeped quickly after that. Apprehension running through his veins, he gently took it out of his mouth and brought it up real close to his eyes so he could read through the haze in his vision.
"40.3" he let out a gasp for breath as the digital numbers became clear. "Celsius." he specified, remembering that America had never bothered learning the metric value. "I think... That's something like 104 to you Fahrenheit users." he whispered, hopelessly letting his hand drop limp on the covers. "And it could still go up." he really hoped it didn't. Though it took much more to finish off a Nation than it would a human, he didn't particularly enjoy the prospect of a higher fever than he had now. The numbers were already deadly, he didn't need them to go higher.
If anything, for America's peace of mind.
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Post by America on Mar 25, 2012 15:31:07 GMT -5
"I only got sick 'cause I ate your cooking," America retorted, busying himself with making sure the towels were straight (which they already were, but, hey, they could be straighter, right?). Smiling and refolding a towel, he recalled how England used to sit by his side constantly when he was ill. He'd read him stories and make sure he was comfortable, no matter how sick America felt.
"I'm not leaving," he muttered, setting the towel down. He never once left me. I'll return the favor. He knew there was possibly an underlying reason for staying, but he wasn't going to dwell on it. So many emotions just gave him a headache, and he needed to stay well to take care of England.
Once the thermometer beeped, America spun around, anxiety in his eyes as England read off the temperature. "104?" he repeated, a bit shocked. He knew that, as nations, they could take a lot more than humans, but that was still a relatively high temperature. And it could still go up, as England pointed out.
He hurriedly grabbed the thermometer, staring at it and willing it to give him another number, a lower number. "Maybe you were mistaken," he whispered. But, no, England was correct. With disappointment, America lay the thermometer on the table, biting his lip. Nope. He read it correctly.
Though he was no doctor, he knew that, should England's temperature go up more, he'd be in great pain. The thought frightened him, and he took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.
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Post by England on Mar 25, 2012 15:46:44 GMT -5
"I'm possibly about to die, America." England shivered at his own bluntness. "There is no point in lying, neither to you, nor to myself. May as well accept and live with what I've got." his tone descended low again, and he sighed, closing his eyes and listening to the sound of his own panting breath.
He had to make do with what he had, yes. And in the recesses of his mind, he knew he could, because if he didn't have health, if he didn't have happiness, if he didn't have perfection, he still had America. And when America was all he had, nothing else mattered.
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Post by America on Mar 25, 2012 15:58:55 GMT -5
America froze at what England said. He could feel tears threatening to escape the corners of his eyes, and he quickly wiped at them, trying to compose himself. His hand was shaking, and he placed it on the table in hopes of getting it still once more. "Stop it," he hissed, refusing to look back at England. He kept his gaze on the thermometer. "Quit talking like that, England. You're not gonna die. You'll be fine, okay?"
He knew he was wrong, he knew England was dying already, but he didn't want anyone to admit it, not even England himself. He thought that, should they be unwilling to accept what was happening, the problem might just go away. It was wistful thinking, but it was all America had to cling onto at this point.
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Post by England on Mar 25, 2012 16:33:53 GMT -5
"You're deluding yourself." England raised a brow, noting America's tense posture. It pained him to be so blunt with the boy, but he thought that if they accepted it now, it would hurt less later. "You must consider that there is also a chance that these are my final hours." he sighed sadly, having trouble accepting that fact himself. "Maybe I will be fine. Maybe the others will come back in time for Finland to develop a vaccine quick enough to save me." his eyes darkened. "But maybe they won't. Maybe I will reanimate, and maybe you will have to shoot me to save yourselves. Maybe we'll lose even more people from this point on."
Oh, the endless possibilities, one more morbid than the other. England's mind was spiraling down into an abyss, and the light was slowly fading away. He was scared, and he was in pain. If he was destined to die, he wished he would die on the spot to spare him the torment that the countdown to nothingness provided.
But one look at America's face was quick to convince him otherwise. Though it was blurry in his eyes, England could still make out the tense frown marring his usual cheerful features. He couldn't give up just yet. He couldn't die, seeing America frowning. His entire being compelled him to just comfort the younger Nation in any way possible. Oh, but he'd always been bad at comfort.
Blindly fumbling around, he tried to reach one of America's hands. Instead, his grip found the other's clothing, and he latched onto it desperately.
"America, you've been in plenty of wars before." he solemnly started. "You know people die in wars, sacrifices to achieve a goal. This entire bloody apocalypse is just another war. War brings casualties." he gulped down. "You have to understand that I could become just another casualty in order to achieve the greater good."
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Post by America on Mar 25, 2012 16:54:13 GMT -5
Once England's fingers gripped his clothing, America swallowed thickly. He hated hearing those words. He wished he could just rewind time and plug his ears so as to not hear them. Then again, if he were able to rewind time, he would make sure that none of this would have ever happened.
He shook his head, his eyes shut. "Stop it," he demanded. "Quit goin' on like you're gonna die! You won't die, England, so just shut up about it, okay?" In the back of his mind, a little voice told him he was being unreasonable, but he really didn't care all too much at this point. England speaking like this was just making his worst fears come to light.
"You won't be another casualty! You're not gonna be a sacrifice!" Those tears he had been trying to hold back finally managed to find their way out of his eyes. Angrily, he wiped them away. "Y-You can't die, you got it? You won't die."
Giving a small sob, he buried his head into the palm of his hand. He had to calm down. He wasn't the one in pain, so he shouldn't be causing such a big fuss about any of this. He had to keep his cool for England's sake.
Still, though, even if he knew he needed to relax and just watch over England, he couldn't seem to stop crying. "Dammit, England, wha-what would I do if..." His voice was muffled from behind his hand, and he found that he couldn't bring himself to finish that whispered sentence.
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Post by England on Mar 25, 2012 17:25:39 GMT -5
England blinked at first, not understanding what had just happened all of a sudden, and let America go on with his tirade. When he was done, England just upheld the silence, only broken by the soft sound of America's desperate sobs.
And finally, he moved, making the bed creak as he painstakingly pushed himself up on his elbows, then on his hands, into a sitting position, eyes shut tight in concentration and pain, panting breath running fast in exertion and effort. He then adjusted his pillow against the wall, and with a relieved sigh, let himself fall back against it.
For a moment, he stayed silent, eyes closed to let his hammering heart calm down a bit. And then, he put his hand out weakly, searching for America's familiar touch.
"Come over here, you overgrown child." he whispered fondly, eyes betraying his inner conflict as he gazed upon America's tear-stained face.
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