[log] would you tear my castle down? [closed]

[keepscalm]

Characters: England, America, and Ginger
Location B9, building 46
Date: Night 122
Summary: It has been a sad few days, but there are still some things that need to be discussed.
Warnings: None yet, will edit as needed!

[Actually getting into the house is a bit of a pain in the arse, but discovering that the bathroom has running water makes it well worth the trouble. Especially after yesterday. Ginger could probably use something luxurious right now.

England just hopes the anomalies can't climb ladders.]

Comments

[fifty]

You're not? I don't think you are? [America's brain is running fast, but his mouth is running faster, dropping words even as his mind tries to process what England is saying.] You were dreaming, so, and things were weird, but, so, what did the dream mean?

[keepscalm]

[What did the dream mean?

The bubble of frustration that forms in England's chest is immediate and familiar. He finally looks up from his tablet to level America with an incredulous look.] How dense are you? Isn't it obvious?

[Maybe the most obvious clue about that answer is the fact that dreaming England asked the very same thing.]

[fifty]

[America's words run dry for a moment, and he stares at England with a similar level of incredulity, though not as much frustration. His heart twists.] Then it meant what it seemed like? [England kissed him. A lot.]

[keepscalm]

[England's heart drops into his stomach, and the frustrated look in his eyes takes on a shade of obvious pain, a twitch at the corner of his lip and a crease in his brow. There's a noticeable flush in his cheeks, too, and for once he can't bring himself to be grateful about the heat in his face, despite the awful weather.

He grits his teeth and looks away again, at the floor this time instead of at his tablet.] We can just forget about it if it bothers you.

[fifty]

[England is upset. He's definitely upset.] No, I don't, don't be--don't be sad! [America waves his hands wildly in front of his face.] I just, I was surprised, I didn't think you'd--be... Interested... In me...? [America can feel his whole head heating up. He's blushing right to his ears.]

[keepscalm]

[Despite America's efforts, England really does not feel better. Nervous tremors shake him right down to his fingers, which he clenches in his mittens in the hopes of keeping them still, and his gut churns with sour mortification. He's such an idiot. What was he thinking, bringing this up?

The shaky breath he takes in an attempt to calm himself rattles unpleasantly in his lungs.] Well. It doesn't— it doesn't matter, anyway, if you don't...

[He can't bring himself to finish the sentence, but he pushes on anyway as if he had.] So.

[fifty]

[America is so desperate to stop England from getting increasingly upset that even more damning words come out of his mouth before he can even begin to think them through.] No, I do! I do, so, so it does matter! But even if I didn't it'd matter I think 'cause you're, you're just getting sadder! Stop!

[keepscalm]

[It takes a moment for America's words to break the miserable fog building up in England's mind. He's already planning ahead to what he'll do after he splits off from America and Ginger, because of course America wouldn't want to be around him after something like this, and what he'll tell Ginger because he's sure she would want to know why he's leaving...

It all screeches to a halt after a brief pause. For a few long seconds, everything is silent, even the turmoil within England.

His voice is blank; not even hopeful, just empty, lost.] What?

[fifty]

What what? [What is he asking what about? He just repeats everything again with different wording.] Stop being sad! Stop being more sad! And I--I like you, you know, like--you know!

[keepscalm]

[There's just no way to logically process this information. It gets stuck between the gears and leaves everything at a standstill even as the metal grinds and grinds, trying to work past the disturbance.

Finally, it works free as a disbelieving, borderline manic laugh.] I— what? No. No, you can't, that's impossible. Don't be so absurd!

[fifty]

Why is it impossible? It's not impossible! [Should he be offended? He has no idea.]

[keepscalm]

Because! [England has many good answers to this question, but all of them have evaporated out of his memory, leaving only the pitiful remains of his previous conceptions. He tries again and dutifully ignores the horrific blush pooled in his cheeks.] Because you— no one— because it's foolish! Why would you—?

[fifty]

You can't tell me it's stupid to lo--to--you know. [America doesn't know what's going on anymore, but he knows he's embarrassed.] I just, you're cool? Sometimes, I mean. And we fight but it's fun anyway? And you come to my birthday parties even when you're sick and sometimes you come over to celebrate Thanksgiving with me even though you don't have Thanksgiving, which is weird since Thanksgiving's great, and. And--and-- [He waves his hands uselessly.] You were my first Twitter follower.

[keepscalm]

[I'll tell you whatever I want, but England can't say it. His tongue is stuck fast to the roof of his mouth by that unresolved syllable, that sound that might have been "love."

He aims his unnerving, vaguely lost gaze in America's direction this time, staring at him while trying to work out something that's impossible to place.

Eventually, he decides:] I'm dreaming again.

[fifty]

[America reaches out and pinches him.]

[keepscalm]

[A noise of alarm escapes England and he slaps America's hand away.] Stop that! You just— You can't just—!

[His indignity pitches his voice up and up, until he remembers that Ginger is only one mere room over and he really probably should not be shouting about this. Another syllable from no particular word escapes him before he shuts his mouth and distress flickers over his face once more.] You'd never say anything like that to me outside of a dream.

[fifty]

Yes I can! I just did! [Now that America's actually said something, he feels like he has to defend his position. Not being believed is making his chest hurt.]

[keepscalm]

[It's nonsense. It has to be. America is just having him on so as not to hurt his feelings.

He still remembers, vividly, the sensation of America's hand running through his hair. The grin as England kissed his neck.

England bows his head and hides his flushed face in his hand.] ...you can't really be serious.

[fifty]

I'm serious! [America sounds sort of desperate. England isn't supposed to just not believe him!]

[keepscalm]

Then why... [Well. Maybe asking why America never said anything wouldn't be a fair question, considering England's own reticence.

He shifts uncomfortably and drops his hand back into his lap.] ...what now, then?

[There's still a quality to his voice like this isn't quite real to him yet, airy and uncertain.]

[fifty]

I--don't know...? [The words feel strange in America's mouth. Everything feels pretty strange right now. It doesn't sound like England has any more of an idea of where they stand than he does. At least England isn't telling America he doesn't mean it anymore.] I kind of figured if I ever said anything it'd be, like, at home.

[keepscalm]

I was never going to say anything. [That's probably a very encouraging sentiment. But England doesn't really think before he says it; he's devoting most of his attention to wondering what happens now, and it comes out because it's a good indicator of the fact that he has no idea what's supposed to happen now.]

[fifty]

Oh. [That's kind of depressing. He fusses with his backpack.] But you did. Kind of.

[keepscalm]

[Indeed, he did. It was too heavy a weight to keep carrying, particularly when they've got so many other things to worry about right now. The thought of America dying here and England living the rest of his life with that uncertainty was too much.

England fidgets with one of his mittens.] I needed to know if it was really you in that dream. I didn't think it would amount to anything...else.

[fifty]

Yeah, it was me. [They already established this, but America is going somewhere with it this time.] Sorry if I-- [He hesitates, searches for the right words. That's unusual enough, let alone the fact America is apologizing for something.] If it was--embarrassing.