(Discontinued) A Love As Auld As Time-Countryhumans

Memories

Quick Note: lines like these –> ==== mean there is a flashback until those lines appear again.

Hope you enjoy the first chapter:

The wind blew coldly as I walked down the street. It was autumn, coming winter, and the trees were less vibrant in warm colours from the season—apart from the occasional evergreen, of course—and were now loosing leaves. It was probably, most likely, a bad idea to adorn the outfit I wear, as I walk outside. Wearing a tartan dress, the end stopping just below my knees with a white long-sleeved shirt underneath it, my legs were quite cold. At least I had a hat and scarf and some fluffy boots that completely clashed with the dress, but who gives? The wind is my only enemy, I'm fine with the weather until a frigid breeze comes along and bite's at my nose. Oh joyous cold wind.

I was heading to the same place I do every two weeks on a Friday. The little cafe placed not too far from the middle of an English town. Yes, I come all the way down from where I live just to go to this little cafe every second Friday. It's totally not exhausting—literally, I'm sleep deprived enough as it is.

The little bell set above the cafe door greeted me with a loud jingle as I walk in. Just a small little cafe. The counter with a glass case built in showing off some of the pastries and puddings—that all look quite delicious. A few normal tables placed around with the wall having lined Café booths, they're much more comfy to sit on than the wooden chairs, my personal opinion though.

And no matter how hard I try, he always has to be the first one here. 'If you can't be in time, be early.' is something he always says, more like 'be early, complain at the other person for making you wait.'

I walk over to the booth he sits at and take off my scarf, dumping it on the far edge of the seat before sitting down myself.

"Took you long enough." He comments.

"Aye, it's nae like I live in another country and yet still manage ta get here every Friday, thanks." I respond.

"I know, Scotland, it was a joke."

"That you've told nearly what? 420 times now?" I say with a grin.

He just rolls his eyes at me and gives the faintest smile.

"And that's one you've said over 69 times now." He comments in return.

"Huh, did nah ken you were counting." I say.

"We should be quick today—there are more people here and it won't be long before someone with a camera arrives, you know they want to ask the same questions as always." England says with a disinterested sigh at the end. "And I ordered us both tea." He added on.

"Ah, this why I try to get here faster. A bottle of Irn Bru would of been nice—but you probably only get the rip-off version here anyway."

"You're not having Irn Bru, Scotland." England states. "You look virtually exhausted and I know how you are with sleep. You need something better than a fizzy drink in the morning."

"I guess you're right." I sigh.

And so the usual conversation ensues.
'How are things in your country?';'let's talk business' more boring stuff, yada, yada... about 15 minutes in to the conversation and England going on a tangent about something important. Except I don't pay attention to any of it as I begin to drift into my thoughts. I've been doing this a lot lately.