[England can almost picture it, but it's like a little bit of debris in a glass of liquid, repulsed from his fingers and floating around them every time he tries to grab it.] I'd like that. Sounds...nice. Yeah.
Sometimes you're too kind. To me. [Sometimes he is, and sometimes he isn't, but England only has the time to regret his own unkindness. Anything else he probably brought upon himself.]
You've been too nice to me before. [America's voice trembles, but with how England sounds he's directed all of his enormous willpower at keeping himself together enough to speak.] Whenever I'm nice to you, it's 'cause I wanna be, so you don't have to worry about it or--or anything. I know you're nice. That's--that's what you are, even if you act like a jerk or you shout or you get all proud, you're really--you're nice.
[America has to pull his glasses off, his fingers gripping the arms so hard they leave red marks in his flesh.] I love you. I love you. I love you, I really, really, really love you.
[England clings to America's words like they're the last thing he has. It's getting so dark and it's terribly, terribly cold, but he can't really feel it any more.] Love you too.
[His words are brittle and quiet.] Watch my people. 'Til I get back. All right?
And Ginger. [Is she listening? England hopes not. This is too horrible for her to hear. But he wants to say goodbye.] Ginger...tell her. Tell her bye. Tell her I'll be back. Soon.
[And then, once more for good measure:] I love you.
England? {America knows he won't hear anything, but he calls out anyway.] England--England-- [That's all he can take. His composure shatters, and he can't stop himself from crying. It's not as if England can hear him now.]
[Ginger has been listening, of course, with a hand over her mouth because this isn't her place to interrupt, she thinks, and she doesn't trust herself not to burst into horrified sobbing from the very beginning. Her heart feels like it's ripping in half when England mentions her, and then...the silence.
Without a second thought, she rushes forward and wraps her arms around America, the embrace tight and fierce.]
He'll be back--he'll be back, he'll--
[It's all she can say as she holds him close. It'll be different for England, it has to be. He has too many people here who love him and who need him, even if they don't know that they need him.]
((ooc: currently don't have access to her sobbing icon so we will just pretend.))
[America clings to Ginger, trying and failing to calm himself down.] Y-yeah, he'll--he'll be back, it'll be okay, I'm--I'm sure. [He has to believe that. He can make himself believe that.]
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Sometimes you're too kind. To me. [Sometimes he is, and sometimes he isn't, but England only has the time to regret his own unkindness. Anything else he probably brought upon himself.]
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[It's important that America knows.]
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[His words are brittle and quiet.] Watch my people. 'Til I get back. All right?
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[And then, once more for good measure:] I love you.
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[But the rest of the thought never comes. There's only the wind, whipping hard against the microphone still held too close to England's face.]
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action;
Without a second thought, she rushes forward and wraps her arms around America, the embrace tight and fierce.]
He'll be back--he'll be back, he'll--
[It's all she can say as she holds him close. It'll be different for England, it has to be. He has too many people here who love him and who need him, even if they don't know that they need him.]
((ooc: currently don't have access to her sobbing icon so we will just pretend.))
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