yousei-san (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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metamorphosis2010-05-25 09:26 pm
flair) wrote in metamorphosis2010-05-25 09:26 pm
Entry tags:
112;
Title: Keep It
Characters: France, England, Spain
Rating: G
For LJ's 50scenes' prompt 'Blossom'.
The first day England meets Spain is the first time he’s given a gift.
He’s small, wiry, shy; he hides behind France’s skirt, peers out at the stranger and hides his face again. France and Spain laugh and talk for a while, then he’s coaxed out from behind his ‘big brother’ and presented like a little prize.
“Isn’t he cute?”
Spain takes a long look at him and smiles really big, reaches out and brushes his fingertips on England’s eyebrows, chuckling when he pulls away and frowns disapprovingly.
“He has weird eyebrows.”
England scowls harder and turns away, beating back tears because he was not going to cry in front of France or that stupid new guy. Spain tut-tuts and reaches out, turns him back around and presents him with a small dandelion.
It’s enough to stop the tears that had begun to threaten falling, and England takes it into his hands and bites back a smile, feel warmth rush to his cheeks. France laughs and shakes his head, murmurs to Spain how easily pleased his little brother was, and whisks the boy back to the safety of the city of London, to press the flower between pages of a hand-written Bible in scrawling, looping, amateur script.
Four-hundred and fifty-nine years later, England holds the dry, pressed flower between his fingertips and sighs, places it back into the Bible, and throws it into the blazing bonfire that’s already been started to get rid of Catholic items.
He finds it four feet from the fire, in a puddle of water where it had fallen from the book’s grasp. He decides it isn’t too bad of an idea to keep it – lucky flowers fall far.
Thirty years later, England presents it to Spain with a sick smile, watches the recognition flash on his face and the hurt that comes when he throws it to the fire. His heart hurts, too, but there’s no sense in holding onto something that doesn’t mean anything anymore. He turns his back on Spain, on the crackling, dying fire, and returns to the safe, sweet arms of his Queen.
Characters: France, England, Spain
Rating: G
For LJ's 50scenes' prompt 'Blossom'.
The first day England meets Spain is the first time he’s given a gift.
He’s small, wiry, shy; he hides behind France’s skirt, peers out at the stranger and hides his face again. France and Spain laugh and talk for a while, then he’s coaxed out from behind his ‘big brother’ and presented like a little prize.
“Isn’t he cute?”
Spain takes a long look at him and smiles really big, reaches out and brushes his fingertips on England’s eyebrows, chuckling when he pulls away and frowns disapprovingly.
“He has weird eyebrows.”
England scowls harder and turns away, beating back tears because he was not going to cry in front of France or that stupid new guy. Spain tut-tuts and reaches out, turns him back around and presents him with a small dandelion.
It’s enough to stop the tears that had begun to threaten falling, and England takes it into his hands and bites back a smile, feel warmth rush to his cheeks. France laughs and shakes his head, murmurs to Spain how easily pleased his little brother was, and whisks the boy back to the safety of the city of London, to press the flower between pages of a hand-written Bible in scrawling, looping, amateur script.
Four-hundred and fifty-nine years later, England holds the dry, pressed flower between his fingertips and sighs, places it back into the Bible, and throws it into the blazing bonfire that’s already been started to get rid of Catholic items.
He finds it four feet from the fire, in a puddle of water where it had fallen from the book’s grasp. He decides it isn’t too bad of an idea to keep it – lucky flowers fall far.
Thirty years later, England presents it to Spain with a sick smile, watches the recognition flash on his face and the hurt that comes when he throws it to the fire. His heart hurts, too, but there’s no sense in holding onto something that doesn’t mean anything anymore. He turns his back on Spain, on the crackling, dying fire, and returns to the safe, sweet arms of his Queen.