A collection of one-shots based on the USUK/UKUS/LiberTea ship. I don't think that it needs much explanation :)
Requests are OPEN!
Details are in the first chapter
I write one-shots that are regular, sad, fluffy, smut/lemon, short, angsty, and more...
Warnings: Strong language, a lot of angst, implied sexual content, and Coronavirus/COVID-19 (Don't forget to cover your coughs, guys)
Summary: England (unsuccessfully) copes with his new reality after the breakup.
Word count: 4,335
Estimated read time: 24 minutes. This is part two of a four-part series. Including this chapter, the estimated read time for the rest of this series is 59 minutes. If it's late, get some sleep!
March 18, 2020
England had spent at least an hour crying on the floor in the foyer before he could stumble to his feet and get to the couch.
Canada came by that weekend, just as America had said. He arrived with a checklist America had made and a pen. It was so... official. A checklist? England could hardly imagine America sitting down and organizing all of the things he owned into a checklist complete with little boxes for his brother to check off.
"Is he okay?" England asked quietly when Canada was done collecting America's things.
He sighed sympathetically, shifting a box in his arms to rest against his hip. "Upset. But he'll be alright. And you will be, too, with time."
"Thanks, Canada." But he didn't believe him.
On his way out, Canada paused, looking back at England, who had deep dark circles under his bloodshot, dry eyes that stared back, so full of loss that it was hard to look at. "If it makes you feel any better, he loves you. Really."
It didn't. If anything, that made it worse because that meant that England had screwed up so bad that America left even when he loved him.
Before Canada came, England had gone into America's closet and taken two of his shirts and one of his jackets, which he hid under his mattress so that he could claim he didn't know where they were and hold on to a piece of America even after he was gone.
Canada didn't press the issue. He knew what probably happened to them, anyway, and America told him that if he couldn't find something to just leave it, it didn't matter.
The shirts and jacket were all that kept England together. They still smelled like America and so after Canada left, he put them in a small box under the bed so that they retained their scent.
Clutching them or slipping America's jacket on (even if it was too big) somehow comforted him and made him feel sadder at the same time.
In those days following the breakup, England realized just how much he took for granted when America was his. He missed him so much that he felt like he was dying. If he was upset back then, America would have held him and stroked his hair and kissed him until he was okay again and then gone out of his way to make England's life easier in the days following. But he wasn't there and England had to deal with it himself.
America's social media was quiet for the first week and a half before he started posting again. England watched him live his life in photographs and wished desperately that he was there and that things were okay.
He would have called America, but every time he looked at the call button on his contact in his phone, he would remember what America had said to him about when he got calls from him and would start to cry all over again.
Instead, he sent texts.
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