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[fifty]

To be made pretty later.

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[keepscalm]

Yeah, I messaged her. [Pretending that nothing is too terribly wrong, of course. She'll probably find out one way or another, but he doesn't want to scare her any more than he already has.]

I'll make my way north. I'll have a look around for anything useful, but I don't particularly want to stay here any longer than that.

[fifty]

I don't know how long it'll take exactly but we'll get there super fast, promise! [It sucks knowing that, were the weather normal, they could make the trip in a day. Honestly, were they normal, they could make the trip in a day regardless. He's not going to mention that, though.]

[keepscalm]

[England runs a hand over the top of his head, adjusting his hat and scratching the hair at the back of his neck with stress obvious in his limbs.] Be careful. Don't try to go too far.

[Whether England thinks America actually would is unclear, as the caution is obviously coming from a very recent well of fear.]

[fifty]

I'll be careful, Scout's Honor. [America flashes a boyscout-worthy smile.] But I'll be fast, too!

[keepscalm]

You'd better. [England misses America terribly, and he doesn't want to think about something happening to America and Ginger on their way here. There's clear worry and longing in his face as he regards his tablet.] Where are you now?

[fifty]

We just left that gross mold house. [So not that far, in the grand scheme of places you can be in Norfinbury.]

[keepscalm]

All right. Good. [The relief is obvious in England's voice, which is probably another sign that he's not coping well with his loss.] Should only be a few days, I think.

[fifty]

Right! We already got food at the convenience store so we can go right to you. [America tries to smile more, to make England feel more confident.] I'll keep an eye on Ginger!

[keepscalm]

[Even though it does little to ease his impossibly frayed nerves, England is glad to see America's smile again.] Of course. I've still got enough food to make it, so...

[He trails off, gaze lingering on America's face. He chews his bottom lip and then averts his eyes.] I'm...eager to be back. With— with you. And Ginger.

[fifty]

Yeah, I-- [America flushes, eyes darting away before forcing himself to look directly at England again.] I miss you.

[keepscalm]

...I miss you, as well. [And, in saying that, England suddenly, violently remembers some of the things he said to America before he died. And some of the things America said. I love you, I love you, I love you...

England feels a stutter in his chest as colour rushes to his face. He swallows around a tacky knot in his throat and tries to muster the courage to speak again.] ...I meant what I said. Before. When...

[When he was dying.]

[fifty]

[America swallows hard. He's really happy to hear that, of course, but he can't just not reply, and he can feel his nerves crawling under his skin.] I meant what I said too.

[keepscalm]

[A choked sound escapes England, and he's quick to bow his head and hide his face in his hand. Now that he has the capacity to be overwhelmed by America's words, he feels like he's drowning in them.

Darlin'.]

...really?

[fifty]

Really. [He fusses with his glasses.] Promise.

[keepscalm]

[His heart feels like it's doing at least triple time. Between his missing nation sense and the surrealism of America saying such deep words, it feels like maybe this isn't even real.] Sorry. It shouldn't have been like that.

[fifty]

[Maybe England is right, but America isn't sure if they ever would have said it otherwise.] Yeah, but it was still... Nice. To hear?

[keepscalm]

...yeah. [He wishes he hadn't made America cry, but as far as last memories go, England's would have been pretty meaningful.

He picks at the cuff of his jacket.] ...I'm— still alive, so...perhaps...

[Perhaps it won't be the last time America hears it.]

[fifty]

[America looks away. Very pointedly, he fixes his eyes on the snow.] You could say it again. If you wanted to.

[keepscalm]

Right. [That's what he was getting at. His lip is starting to ache a little from his nervous biting at it.] So could you.

[fifty]

[Okay, England has a point.] I asked first. [Does that count as asking? Are they asking? Maybe saying that is dumb, actually.] ...I love you.

[keepscalm]

[England said it first last time, despite his persistent reservations, so he has no problem handing over the responsibility this time.

Even still, he is not prepared to hear it with a clearer head. His cheeks flush impossibly and he tugs his scarf up over his face to hide whatever expression his mouth might be making.] I— yeah. Er...

[It is a lot harder to say it when he knows he has to live with the consequences of his actions. He fidgets and hesitates for a long moment, refusing to aim his eyes at the camera.] ...yeah. I-I— love you, as well, I mean.

[fifty]

[America is torn between thinking the way England seems to retreat into his scarf is pretty endearing and wishing he could see more of England's expression. Then he forgets about that, because England just said it back at a time when he's not definitely going to die. He's blushing and smiling at the same time.] There. We--we said it again. [He laughs to try and make it seem more casual, but he's not sure if he doesn't just sound kind of weird.] That was easy, right?

[keepscalm]

[No, that was terrifying and England's heart is still palpitating. Was it worth hearing America say it to him? He'll have to pinpoint the magnitude of his regret later. His returning laugh is nervous, and precedes a very obvious lie.] Yeah. Easy.

[fifty]

[Good. Great, they can just--keep going like this.] Yeah, so--we've got this totally under control!

[keepscalm]

[The sex was easier than this.




England regrets thinking that. Though such intimacy seems very appealing when he feels so terribly alone. He sinks further into his scarf and hopes that the nature of his thoughts has not shown in his eyes too much.] Under control. Of course. So— we'll see each other soon.

[That statement is unhelpful and England is not sure why he said it.]