Come True Of Time - [Countryhumans Original] - (Discontinued)

Chapter 1 = A Therapeutic Gift

A hospital bed with only white sheets covering it was against the wall in the middle of the room, a figure sat on the right side of the bed barely dipping in from how light they were. They sat across from a large window that revealed the city below with grey clouds covering the sky while small drizzle of rainfall tapped lightly on the windows.

The walls were light blue all around with the lights turned off to their liking as they could still see with the light from outside. The floor was tiled with white marble and sat a small desk in the corner next to the bed with a chair pushed in. On top of the desk was a glass vase with a few lavenders, pretty much the only thing that had bright colours within the room if included.

He sighed heavily, staring intensely at the clock up on the light blue wall above the window. His hands gripping tightly on his knees, although preventing himself from wrinkling his trousers. Ticking only filled the room, his breathing was barely above shallow that he would've fooled someone into thinking he was some type of newly made statue.

He wore a white dress shirt underneath a dark purple vest, accompanied by black trousers and a top hat laid on top of his head with a red ribbon. His hair looked a bit messy, but he tried to keep it tamed while a small braid rested on the left side of his face. There his face had held the Union Jack with royal purple orbs tainted by blue in his eyes while his hands wore white gloves.

Tension filled the atmosphere, but sadness and grief was evident as well. Until the door opened up, but quickly closing as someone else slipped in quietly. They could feel how much it was tense but they didn't mind.

"Hello Britain, I'm your therapist WHO. We can start whenever you are ready." They said, pulling the chair out from the desk and sat on it with a slight creak.

He did nothing but just hummed in response, nodding his head deep in thought. They waited patiently, even looking through their papers on their clipboard to pass the time as Britain thought of that one thing his brother told him.

I want you to find out who killed our father during the fire. Don't let me down.

Sighing again, he wondered how he was even going to start. There was many yet so little suspects that he could think of, who knows if the person is dead already but if they were alive then he'd make sure to make their life hell. Although he didn't know what to do, he felt lost and clueless like having no sense of direction in a forest of loops.

He was snapped back to reality when he felt the right side of the bed next to him dipped in slightly, glancing over it was WHO, who had concerned yet gentle look on their face. He watched as a small snake made their way to their shoulder, and look up at him whilst tilting their head in the process as if to ask whether he was alright or not.

Which to be truthful, he wasn't alright but he made a small smile towards the little light blue snake as their small tongue flicked out of their mouth in fondness. WHO watched the small interaction and smiled warmly, their snake was always able to lighten up someone's day, even towards people who didn't like snakes, Ascle was an exception.

"Do you want to start? Or do you need more time?" WHO asked, receiving a nod from Britain they started asking light questions, like how he was feeling, if he had any hobbies, what favourite candy or food he liked. The regular questions you may ask a friend about.

Then it started to go a bit deeper, about his thoughts of his brother being in the hospital, the thought of his brother dying. The conversation was quick enough to end with Britain nearly sobbing as a tear slid down his cheek, staring down at the tiles with voices surrounding his head in desperation.

WHO gave a sympathetic look as they slightly outstretched their arms, offering a hug that he gratefully took not even bothering with his top hat that fell onto the bed. They gave small back rubs as Ascle gave Britain a small flick of their tongue to wipe away the stream of tears coming down from his eyes, broken in a way that nobody could barely fix.