If The World Was Us (A UsUk Fanfic)

Chapter 18: Over

Chapter 18: Over

“We are NOT doing a cosplay café!” yelled Britain.

France poked him in the shoulder, annoying him even more. “C’mon mon ami, you’ll even get to see America in a dress.”

At this, Britain blushed. “I don’t care about that! That was the last thing on my mind!”

France rolled his eyes, looking down to the plans again. “I don’t see why you’re so against this. It’s not as if this will change anything.”

Britain crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re only doing this to see Canada dress up and you know it.”

“What? Me? How absurd.” The Frenchman smirked.

Britain took a quick look over at me and then back to the ground, blushing. What was he all flustered for? I mean it’s not like he’d be the only one to dress up, we all would be dressing up.

“All right, fine! Just leave me out of costumes. I don’t want any part of it.” He let out a deep sigh.

He stood up from his seat to walk out of the student council room, grabbing my hand as he went. I followed him like I always did out to the rooftops. This time he led me out to the rooftops though, he wasn’t smiling. He had a tight hold on my hand, refusing to let go. He turned around to face me, eyes wavering.

“Britain, do you hate me?” I asked, head tilting.

He shook his head, face growing angrier. “Don’t you ever ask that! Don’t you dare!”

“Britain?”

He let go of my hand, tossing it aside. “Forget it, it’s nothing. Go back to class before you get into trouble.”

I looked at him as he walked away, counting and listening to every single step. Every nine of those steps felt like he was stepping all over my heart. How did things turn out like this? Why couldn’t I stop it? Was I really that powerless?

I suppose it would be best to start explaining how it got to this point. It’s a sad story, really and I keep wondering how it’s ever going to turn out ok. When will he realize?

“Hey, America!”

I smiled, looking back at him. “What’s up?”

He walked up, his cheeks flushed. “Do you want to walk home together?”

I gathered my books and slung my book bag over my shoulder. “I thought you’d never ask.”

We walked side by side, almost shoulder to shoulder. I had one hand on the strap of my backpack, the other dangling near my side. He was using both arms to clutch his books to his chest, his bag slung over his shoulder at his side. His finger’s danced on the top of the books nervously over the pages.