hetalia | [Fanfic] Comfort in the Dark

Title: Comfort in the Dark
Author/Artist:

justsaymook <--my new fandom journal
Character(s) or Pairing(s): USxUK, mention of USxCanada, USxOC states
Rating: PG
Warnings:Um, inexperienced fic writer, un-betaed fic, angst, lame title is lame
Summary: America wakes up from a recurring nightmare,

Um, this is my first real fic, at least the first that I've ever worked up enough gumption to share with anybody. OTL So comments and criticism are definitely welcome!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

America awoke with a start, breathing heavily. He groaned as he rolled over to squint at the alarm clock. 3:43. Ugh.

That nightmare again.

It was one that had haunted him on and off through the years, but over the past couple of decades had become increasingly frequent.

America would flash back and forth between child and adult, always calling out, yelling ‘til his voice was hoarse and raw—

“Don’t go England! Stay with me! Please don’t leave!”

But England always left.

Faceless, nameless, but still familiar nations would surround him, laughing, taunting, looming ever larger as his impotent hands reached towards the figure retreating into the distance, as sobs wracked his body—

Sometimes when he awoke from these nightmares there’d be someone beside him to seek comfort in. Texas would silently brush away his tears and hold him until he fell asleep again, or California would stroke his hair worriedly, asking if he wanted to talk about it. Canada would snuggle up to his side with a soft, pained smile, as if trying to convey through the contact I’m here for you.

All too often it was England occupying the other side of the bed, who would grumble as he was wont to do about noisy Americans disturbing his rest, rubbing his tired face all the while until America would suddenly tackle him.

“Don’t ever leave me don’t ever leave me don’t ever leave me…” would run through his panicked mind as he drew the smaller nation into a crushing embrace. England would protest, but he never pushed America away.

But there were no arms to comfort him tonight. He was alone with his fears and the darkness.

On those occasions where a desperate America had clutched him as if his life depended on it (it felt like it did), England had never asked why, and America would never, ever tell him.

Because every time America had asked, begged, pleaded for England to stay, he had inevitably left. Speaking those words aloud made things too real, resurrected a thousand stinging pains that prickled the memories of his heart. And if he did voice them, America was afraid that his fears would come true. They always did in the past, after all. So he struggled to keep those fears buried deep inside him.

Discontent, America propped himself up, leaning against the headboard and staring sullenly into the gloom. After a few minutes he reached for his cell phone and dialed a now well-familiar number.

The line rang a few times before an irritated voice answered, "Isn't it the middle of the night for you over there?”

America laughed to himself, just glad to hear England’s voice.

“If you aren't going to say anything I'm hanging up.---”

“England."

“Yes?” came the exasperated reply.

“I love you.”

"--The hell, America? Calling just to say that. --- either you really bollocksed something up or you want something.

"Yes. I want something.”

"Well what the devil is it?” D:<

"I want...” America hesitated.

Silence on the other end.

“I want you.”

More silence.

America didn’t need sound to know what was happening on the other end of the line. He could picture England’s face perfectly – frozen in shock as a bright crimson blush spread across his cheeks. So adorable when he’s like that. America’s chest ached with longing.

“Y-yes, w-well, “ England sputtered. “Oh, b-b-bloody hell America, n-now’s not the time f-for such talk, I mean, l-later I’ll…Oh bugger. Yes, yes, I’m coming. Sorry America, I’m about to step into an EU meeting, I’ll have to talk to you later.”

“Oh.” America’s voice went cold. “EU meeting. Right, well, don’t wanna keep you…”

“What’s the matter now?” England asked, taken aback.

America sighed, trying to mask the bitterness in his voice. “Nothing.” Nothing I can tell you, anyways. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Right.” England said, sounding concerned. “Good-bye.”

America slammed his head against the headboard in frustration, welcoming the pain as a distraction. Groaning, America tried to quash unwanted realizations about his own unheroic insecurities into the back recesses of his mind.

Dammit. Damn the EU, and especially damn that frog-faced French pervert. England was his, dammit, his, but ever since England had decided to join that blasted organization it had been "Europe this" and "EU that." Pay attention to me, not them! Even though England told him it was necessary for peace and economic development, even though he complained about Europe more often than not, and even though their own relationship was closer than ever, America's fears had only increased. Nothing, it seemed, could assuage them. Don’t leave me again.

It was a glaring revival of that old boys’ club, the one that America could never join, even if he wanted to (and he’d deny to the death that he’d ever want to be a part of any European bicker-fest). In America’s eyes, it constantly threatened to take England away from him. I’m not going to let you leave this time. But as the darkness pressed close around him, America felt powerless in the face of his fears. America hated feeling powerless almost more than anything.

His cell phone suddenly came to life, startling him. “Yo ho, yo ho a pirate’s life for me..” it sang out. A text message from England.

“I’ve always loved you, you git. I’m quite certain that even against my better judgment, I always will. Idiot.”

America clutched his phone to his chest, chuckling weakly at his own ridiculousness as relief washed unbidden over him. Comfort enough, at least, for tonight.

Kutabare Igirisu.

[Fanfic] Comfort in the Dark

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