EnglandxReader- My Personal Angel Pt 2

The next morning, I rolled out of bed with deep bags under my (e/c) eyes and sat on the edge, leaning my elbows on my knees, my (h/c) hair tousled and tumbling down my shoulders in a tangled mess. I stared at the carpet dully, a dull ache in my heart throbbing.

Tears formed reluctantly and one slipped down my pale cheek to splash onto my bare knees. I forced myself up and stumbled over to my dresser to search through the disorganized jumble of multicolored clothing. I tugged on a dark maroon shirt, releasing it from its cotton prison, and pulled open another drawer, revealing a somewhat neat pile of dark blue jeans. I ventured off to take a shower as sunlight poured through the windows of my empty apartment.

I didn't bother with any breakfast, pulling the long sleeves of my shirt down and pausing at my door. There it was, that lonely black umbrella, collapsed and leaning against the wall, casting a light shadow on the pair of plain sneakers thrown haphazardly. A small envelope lay on the floor and I stared at it with foreboding. I sighed and braced myself as I leaned over, collecting the wrinkled paper in my hand. I breathed shakily and fought the tears as I slipped my fingers into the envelope. I pulled out a small bunch of papers. Unfolding them hesitantly, I felt that pang in my chest again and the tears suddenly overtook my vision.

"To Miss (Name) (Last name):
We are sorry to inform you, but your brother has passed in the field of duty-"

I got no further, unable to continue reading as my vision blurred beyond blobs of color. Droplets cascaded and alighted on the page, mingling with the somewhat smudged ink. I let the papers flutter to the floor, unwilling to finish reading the military note. My knees wobbled as I took a step back, my hand covering my mouth in a vain attempt to stifle the oncoming sobs caught in my throat. I didn't want to hear the cries of my own pain echoing in the silent air, almost afraid that they would continue long after I had run out of tears to cry. I retreated to the kitchen, hand landing on the cell phone plugged into the wall. A ruffled napkin sat beside it, numbers scrawled across it in a sophisticated loopy handwriting.

Arthur.

The name rang through my head like a comforting siren. I flipped my old faded blue phone open and carefully typed the digits in, double checking to make sure I didn't mistype.

The dial tone occupied my mind as I stared towards the living room where the pile of pages awaited in disarray.

"Hello?" A strong British accent suddenly pulled me out of my reverie. I jumped and stuttered.

"A-arthur? I-it's (Name)-"

"Oh! (Name)! How are you doing, love?" A faint dusting appeared on my cheeks as his voice called out the word casually.

"F-fine," I lied, trying to conceal the pained cry behind an overly happy giggle.

"You know, love, I'm not very partial to liars." He called me out, a soft chuckle accompanying his "oh come on" tone. I stiffened.

"Tell me what's wrong. No, wait." He cut me off as I opened my mouth to reply. "Meet me at the café, alright love? Great. See you there, love."

The line went dead, leaving me to stare at the screen. I blinked slowly, tears forgotten. My eyes widened as I realized that he was expecting me to be there at the café. I rushed to the door, stuffing the phone into my jeans pocket and only stopping to glance at the pile of discarded ink stained pages (picking one up with a regretful frown) and to grab the umbrella leaning against the wall.

With an inexplicable rush of giddiness, I threw open the door and dashed out, umbrella in hand and a crumpled page in the other, off to see the man that had suddenly brightened my dim life-light.