Hetalia Feels

London Bridge (S)

Warnings for: suicidal ideation, loneliness, selective muteness, suicide by falling off of a bridge (for the second time in this collection), & the mourning of a lost loved one.
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     England stood alone, in the rain, under the cloak of darkness that was midnight. If anyone had been around, they would not have noticed not the tears rolling down his face, mixing with the rain, but instead, the way he gazed longingly at the treacherous waters just out of reach.

They would have also noticed the rather alarming fact that he stood on the railing of the London Bridge, as if he were about to jump. Which, given the circumstances, was a highly likely possibility. In fact, it would be surprising if he decided to, instead of jumping, rethink his decisions and go back to bed. Sadly, while that was ideal, it was not to be.

For, you see, England was dealing with an awful thing. A terrible predicament, it was, especially for a nation. He was dealing with the want... No, it felt more like a need need... To die.

Most people would call it depression. Though he said he was fine, it didn't take a genius to see that he was, clearly not. However, all of the countries, as the lovable idiots they were, paid no further attention to England's sudden lack of appetite and speech. What a mistake that had been, indeed.

Honestly, England had, once upon a time, wished the bloody idiots would sit down, shut up, and leave him the hell alone. Though, when they finally did that, it had only succeeded in harming his emotional and mental state.

It's not that he blamed them for his pain, no, not at all! They just didn't make it better... Instead, ignoring him. Now he knew how Canada felt. It was a shame that he'd never be able to apologize to Canada for ignoring him, other than through his suicide note...

That went for France, America, and all the other countries as well. A suicide note is all they would hear from him, no last words, no grand speeches. He has not spoken for months, and found no need to. What was the point in speaking when you have nothing to say?

Clearing these thoughts from his meddling mind, England straightened his tie, ever the gentlemen, even in his final moments, and closed his eyes.

Taking one step forward, he propelled himself off of the bridge, his hair flowing in the wind. It felt almost like flying! Even though, the country knew, it would soon end as he reached the water.

After a few moments of the wondrous feeling of falling, of flying, the water finally made its mark. As England reached his destination, he died on the spot, having used a spell to prevent his country powers from healing him. Tomorrow, there would be a new England. Someone else, not him, to be free to roam the world.

How awful had it been for his friends, and allies, waking up in the morning only to learn that he was dead.
They all cried... How could they not? One of their own was dead, gone forever. That day it rained like never before, raining over most of America, Canada, France, England, and anywhere nearby.

The pitter patter of the rain almost seemed to sound out an old song, as familiar as it was creepy.

London bridge is falling down,

Falling down,

Falling down,

London bridge is falling down,

My fair lady...

Perhaps it was England, sending some sort of message from the clouds above.

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I tried, I really did. Just felt like writing something, anything and this is what I created. Good? Bad? Requests/constructive criticism/both? That's all, thanks for reading! Bai~

~Weirdanimewriter out!

Character: England