The Days We Remember [Requests Closed]

Independence?

"You know what he's going to do when he finds out?" Wales asked.

"What can he do?" Scotland said. He tossed a few pounds into the middle of the table.

"You know he won't take it well," Northern Ireland said, looking through his hand.

"Take it well?" Ireland exclaimed. "You better be ready for him to have a fit, Scotland."

The small creek of the front door echoed through the house as it quickly slammed shut. Heavy footsteps marched down the halls as the person came closer.

"Speak of the devil."

"What's this?" His voice rang through the room.

"What's what?" Scotland said, his line of sight never leaving his hand.

"Don't play stupid with me," England growled. A newspaper dropped onto the table. England stood over his brother, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Oi!" Wales cried out. "We're playing a game here, if you haven't noticed!"

Scotland looked over his hand. "It looks like a newspaper to me."

"You know what I meant," England growled.

"There's a poll today. What's wrong with that?"

"And you didn't even think tell me?"

"No." Scotland looked up to England. He could've sworn he was trying to shoot lasers at him with his eyes, or something. He expected some long speech, something about how they couldn't split up or something like that. He didn't expect him to march out of the room. A cool draft from outside rushed past the four at the table when England pulled the door closed hard behind him.

"Guess it didn't upset him that much."

"I've never seen him walk out like that," Wales added.

"You kidding? You know the last time he's been this upset? That was over one and a half centuries ago."

"You sure this is what you want, Scotland?"

"What makes you think it isn't?"

-

"Arthur."

"Allistor." He didn't turn around when he said his name, the name he always used in public. His voice was cold and threatening. Something that almost made him want to walk away.

Why was he even here in the first place? That's right. The rest of them guilted him into it. Something about talking with his little brother.

"What do you want?"

"I just wanted to talk with my little brother. Is that too much to ask?"

He only grunted in response. Scotland sat on the bench next to him. How was he even supposed to talk to him if he refused to? Maybe he could just go back and say he tried. Yeah, that would work.

"You're pretty selfish sometimes. You know that, right?"

Scotland looked to England curious at the sudden burst of conversation. "What?"

"You're selfish."

"Me? How am I the selfish one?" He yelled in frustration. "All you ever talk about is your 'Great British Empire' that once was! You're not even an empire anymore and you insist on keeping the rest of us lumped together with you as if you own us all!"

England cringed slightly. "You don't get it, do you?" He never looked at Scotland, always looking the opposite way. "I tried so hard to keep my family together and all it did was fall apart. Everyone always leaves and now, now you four are the only ones I've managed to keep close," he muttered.

A harsh breath escaped Scotland. "England. Just because someone leaves, doesn't mean they're still not part of your family."

"Try telling that to any of the colonies that left me."

Is this his whole problem? Not wanting to be left alone. That was the big deal?

"England-"

"Don't."

Scotland's breath caught in his throat.

"Don't you dare give me another speech about me being your little brother." His head dropped to look down, still refusing to look to Scotland directly. "I always looked up to you. You were always he person I wanted to be like, to impress, but I was always the little squirt to you. Didn't you ever stop to think that maybe I was trying to get some approval? That maybe I just wanted you to be proud of me?" England was suddenly staring Scotland down. "Well?"

He wanted to say something, but what was there to say. Scotland felt his throat close entirely when he tried to breath. What was he supposed to say to that?

"That's what I thought." England got to his feet, no longer sparing any eye contact to Scotland. "Leave if you like. I don't care anymore."

Was it supposed to hurt? Those simple words before he walked away. As he watched England disappear into the distance. Was it guilt? Had he really looked up to him like that all those years? Was it true, or was he just playing him? Dammit. What was he supposed to do now?

-

Outside was quite peaceful. The one place a person could go for silence. That was, until someone decides to come as well. The clear sounds on the ground came closer, and England didn't have to guess who it was.

"Come to declare your independence?"

"I came to tell you the results of the poll," Scotland said. His footsteps stopping just beside England.

"And?"

"No."

England frowned. What?

"A majority vote showed that my people would prefer to not break away from Great Britain."

England turned to see Scotland. "You,"

"My people voted to stay with you, England."

A small smile found a place with England. Something left him, a fear he hadn't been able to shake before now.

"What are you smiling about?"

England said nothing at first. He walked past his brother, only stopping for a brief moment to say, "Thanks for sticking around."