America's part:
I came down the stairs and heard the voices of a lot of people. I decided, as the intelligent person I am, to run downstairs and get involved in something I had no part in.
I slid down the railings and kicked the kitchen door open. I wasn't concentrating and yelled:
"Guess who's bac-"
"You, obviously ya yank." a Scottish accent replied. I opened my eyes in shock to see Scott, Eng, Wale and N. Ire. I stood there for a good while, until I felt New Z jump on my back with a little "oof"
Northern Ireland's part:
I laughed at the expression on America's face. I had missed pulling my own face expressions and moving the way I wanted to.
I was taking a sup of tea when Canada came up to me.
"Hey Bel..." he said my nickname, a short version of Belfast.
"mm?" I hummed as I swallowed my tea. He took a deep breathe and whispered.
"Can we talk about Ireland...?" he mumbled quietly to me. I admit I was a bit shook, but I kept my cool.
"Let's go somewhere private..." I whispered and got up and left the room, with Canada running behind.
I was the smallest of the British Isles, so he towered over me. I think he could tell, as he reached for my hand and squeezed it, like a child, symbolising he thought of me as an older sister. I smiled as he followed me to my brother's room.
YOU ARE READING
🍻☘️🇮🇪A Story About Ireland🇮🇪☘️🍻
Historical FictionHello! This is an actual attempt at a good story.. So yeah.. Please enjoy. Warning: History Words in other lauguages References to depression and self-harm Swearing Britain being an ass Bad grammar If you want to find out what they mean, put them in...
