literature

USUK - I Wish - Chapter 3, End

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England's POV


"Igirisu-san, are you okay?" Japan asked me. His face was his usual, blank expression, but there was worry in his eyes.

I shook my head. "No... I-I'm okay..." I looked over at America, who was in bed. Right after he had passed out, I had called Japan and together, we had somehow brought him back to his house. Japan, being the responsible country he is, was able to patch America up as best he could; now, all he needed was rest.

Japan was still looking at me, as if he expected me to break down or something. I frowned in annoyance. "Japan, I'm okay! But..." I turned my face away. "I'm worried about America..." Japan smiled at me.

"Of course you are worried about him. It's only natural," he said. I let out a sigh.

"Yes... You're right." I paused. "Japan, could you, maybe..." He nodded before I could finish, made a quick bow, and left the room. I silently wondered if he knew how to read minds.

I turned my attention back to America. Looking into his sleeping face, I felt immense guilt well up inside me. I was such an idiot. I buried my face into my hands and let out a few sobs. The man I cared about most wouldn't leave me... So I shot him? What kind of messed up logic was that? I shuddered when I remembered his expression after I'd kissed him. That's right. That's why I was so upset.

He hated me.

I frowned. But that didn't make sense! If he hated me, why would he refuse to leave me? I felt like there was a very important piece I was missing, but I couldn't figure out what it was for the life of me. I absentmindedly started running my fingers through my hair, trying to understand the American's actions. I decided to go through it step by step.

First, he said he didn't care about me. Second, he ran after me when I was upset. Third, I kissed him and it seemed like he hated me. Fourth, he refused to leave my side, even when I shot him. Now that I thought about it, he had been about to tell me something before he passed out...

I shook my head. None of this made any sense! All his actions were contradictory! Did he care about me or not? Either way, why couldn't he just come out and tell me? It would save me a lot of useless worrying. I growled and took my hand away from my head. This was so frustrating!

A small moan brought my attention back to America. His eyelids fluttered listlessly and he turned his head slightly in my direction. He mumbled something that sounded like my name.

"America? W-What is it?" I asked.

"I..." A tiny cough interrupted him. "I need... T-To... Tell you... Something..." He winced slightly, as if the effort of just speaking hurt immensely.

"No, don't talk," I scolded. "Just rest. We can talk later."

"But it's..." He took a deep breath. "It's... Important..."

I didn't say anything, wondering if it was okay to let him speak. I was curious about what he had to tell me, but I also wanted him to get better...

"England, I... I-I..."

"Yes?"

America cursed weakly under his breath. "I still... Can't say it..."

I was starting to get really confused by this point. "What? What is it?" He let his eyes close completely and he took another deep breath before trying again.

"I... I l..."

He let out a small gasp of pain, and I said, "That's enough. America, go to sleep." He gave a weak whine, but I shook my head. "No. You need to rest."

"F-Fine..." He attempted to relax, and within seconds, he was asleep. He didn't look very comfortable, though; he was very tense. I gazed at him sadly, thinking.

What was he trying to tell me? I grimaced, wondering if it had anything to do with the strange way he had been acting. What was wrong with him, anyway? I mean, apart from being shot...

Suddenly, a thought hit me. What if he... Did I dare to even think that he might...?

"No way...!" I whispered to myself. "Could he really...?" I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, making the silent room suddenly loud in my ears. "No," I told myself. "Don't even go there. There's no way..."

Without any warning, America's eyes suddenly shot open and he sat up shakily. He stared at me with wide, blurry eyes. Shocked, I let out a small cry. "A-America! W-What the hell?"

"England!" he gasped. "W-What... D-Did you..." We just stared at each other, both of us visibly confused. Finally, America fell back onto his pillow with a groan.

"A-America... What was that?" I asked tentatively. He glanced at me, a look of slight frustration on his face.

"I don't know... I just felt..." He paused, searching for the right word. "Weird." I gave him an unimpressed look.

"Very descriptive," I said sarcastically. He glared at me.

"Well so-rry for not having a perfect vocabulary," he growled. We were silent for a few moments, before I finally spoke.

"So... Why did you wake up?"

"I just told you!" America tensed, bringing his hand up to his forehead. It seemed his little outburst had caused him some pain. "Something, I dunno, something... I felt something." He paused again. "Like... This sort of... Jolt, I guess." He sighed. "I don't know how to explain it..." I just started playing with my hands and nodded silently, doing whatever I could to avoid looking at his face. "England? What's wrong?"

I didn't answer. America gave a "hmph" and repeated his question. "England. What is the matter?" It sounded like more of a statement than a question.

I was silent, but I could feel America's eyes burning into my head, so it didn't take long for me to answer. "I just... I..." I suddenly burst into tears, unable to hold them back any longer.

"E-England?" He sounded surprised, but I took no notice.

"I'm sorry, America!" I cried. "I'm sorry! I don't know why I... H-How could I do such a thing to you... I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean t-" I was cut off unexpectedly when I found myself in a tight hug. I looked up, my vision blurred from the tears.

"It's okay. I forgive you," America said warmly. He was stroking my head comfortingly.

"B-But... Why?" I asked.

"Why? What do you mean, why?" He sounded honestly puzzled by my question. It just made me feel worse.

"I bloody shot you, you idiot!" I shouted, crying even harder. "And you just forgive me? Just like that? Why won't you yell at me, or tell me off, or something! Anything would be better! Anything! I just feel so damn guilty..." I broke off and just sobbed into his chest. He hugged me tighter.

"It's okay, England."

"You already said that," I whispered.

"I say it because it's true," he replied.

"No it isn't!"

"Ssh..." He was rubbing circles into my back, now. I wanted to push him away, but something stopped me.

"T-This is all wrong..." I mumbled lamely.

"What do you mean?"

"Y-You're injured... I'm the one who should be comforting you!"

America smiled softly. "I guess so... But I... I like this..." He was blushing just a little, and again, I found myself wondering.

To distract myself, I asked, "America, aren't you sore or anything? You're certainly not acting like you were just shot..." He blinked and looked confused, as if he hadn't thought about it either.

"Huh... Now that you mention it, I do feel better than I would have expected..." He grinned. "I guess it's because I'm just that awesome!" I scoffed.

"Idiot," I murmured, smiling through my tears. I was curious, though. Why did he feel so much better? Could it have something to do with how he had woken up so suddenly? I was reminded again of what I had been thinking about before he woke up...

"America," I started tentatively, "what... What were you going to tell me before you passed out?" He froze, his grin quickly replaced by a fearful look. The change startled me.

"I, uh..." He rubbed the back of his head, glancing around the room nervously. "I-I just... T-There's something that I've been wanting to tell you for a long time, and I..." He was fidgeting and playing with his hair. I wasn't used to him acting so anxious, and it was worrying. What could possibly be so difficult to say?

Unless...

My eyes widened. He tried to comfort me so desperately... And he forgave me so quickly... And all these years we've known each other, he's been so kind... But what he told France...

No, I told myself firmly. He meant what he said to France. And yet...

Why?

Why did he do all this?

Could he...

No, why would he? Why would anyone ever feel that way about me?

But all that he's done...

But what about France?

But his actions contradict that...

But...

But...

...

Does he...



...Love me...?


I gasped, wondering if my revelation could possibly be true.  I barely noticed the flicker in America's eyes, as if something he had been missing for a long time had returned.

"England...?" he said softly. His voice quickly rose, his tone changing to something resembling hysteria. "England...! England! E-England, England!"

"What?" I interrupted before he could continue. "I'm right here, what do you want?"

He stared at me, his beautiful eyes wide and sparkling with emotions I had never seen there before. He pressed his hand to his chest, clutching the fabric almost desperately. It was obvious his heart was racing; mine was, too.

"What?" I asked again, a little uneasy.

"England...!" he said again, out of breath. "England... I... I l-love... you..." His face mirrored mine, both of us in complete shock. Thinking he loved me and actually hearing it were two, very different things... But why was he so surprised? "I love you..." he repeated getting louder with each echo. "I love you. I love you!" He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close, and pressed his lips to mine. When he pulled away, he let his head rest so our foreheads were touching and said again and again, "I love you."

All of this happened so quickly, it took a moment for me to realize what had just happened. I was speechless, but luckily, America didn't seem to expect me to respond. He was too busy squeezing me tightly and telling me how much he loved me. Finally, I put my finger to his lips and whispered, "I love you too, you idiot. And I believe you, you don't have to say it so much."

"But England," he said, joy shining brightly from every word, "I do... I love you so much, and I... I just..." He stopped, grinning. "I'm... So happy." He kissed me again, as if he needed reassurance that he could. When we broke apart to catch our breath, his lips quickly found their way back to mine. It was almost desperate.

Finally, he seemed to have calmed down a bit and we just sat there in silence, holding each other. "Why couldn't you have told me this earlier?" I asked after a while. He smiled at me, as if he wanted to laugh at some irony I couldn't see.

"Well," he said thoughtfully, looking up at the ceiling. "I guess..." He kissed my forehead. "It all started with those stories you used to tell me..."
Does this make sense? How they broke the curse, I mean... Eh-heh... I hope it does... ^^; Tell me if it doesn't, please.

ANYWAY.

...I finished it...

I FLIPPIN' FINISHED IT. :icondummywooplz: I'M SO PROUD I DIDN'T DROP THIS. LIKE... WOW. NOW I JUST NEED TO GO FINISH I HATE YOU AND MY LIFE WILL BE COMPLETE. :iconexcitedlaytonplz::iconexcitedphoenixplz:

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