Twilight's Last Gleaming - Chapter 1
This is essentially a story which delves into the psychology behind the Revolutionary War. The story begins on July 4th, 1777, one year after the signing of the Declaration of Independence. I don't want to say any more because I'll wreck the plot! Enjoy!
(Hetalia is not mine, neither are the characters.)
A note to new readers - this story is only rated M due to graphic violence!
It was 10 pm in London England, and the figure of a single man could be seen walking down the street. There was no one else around to be seen, since the rest of the city had heeded the storm warning. No, there was no hurricane coming, but the citizens had been warned of a particularly severe rainstorm, complete with flash-flooding, and were all safe inside their houses waiting it out. The figure was trudging through half a foot of storm water, but didn't seem to notice. Icy cold rain pelted the top of his blonde head, and he was completely soaked from head to toe. Arthur had been planning to go to the local pub, but to his despair it had been closed due to the weather. Lately, Arthur was never sober. He was drinking to forget. Since Alfred had declared his independence a year ago, Arthur had been like this. For Arthur, losing Alfred was like losing a limb. Suddenly, he looked up at the dark blue summer sky. His green eyes were dull and seemed to have no life to them at all. Tonight, he didn't need alcohol anyway. Tonight was the one year anniversary of Alfred's freedom, and over the past year Arthur had felt so much pain that to suddenly think of it all at once had a numbing effect on him. He was way past the point of crying. Suddenly, he tripped and fell into the water. Sitting there partially submerged, he didn't bother to get up. He was shivering now from the icy cold rain water, but he didn't feel cold at all. That's how numb he was.
"Alfred, why don't you get it?" he mumbled under his breath. "I...I love you."
Suddenly, through the heavy rain a dull yellow light appeared. The light got brighter and brighter until out of the darkness, a horse-drawn carriage appeared. The carriage stopped at Arthur, and produced a splash of water as it did so, making Arthur even more wet. Sitting in the carriage seat was a man with brown hair, brown eyes, and a rude expression. The man stepped out and grabbed a hold of Arthur's arm.
"Come on you fool, you're going to get yourself sick", he said. "I don't know what you would do without Veneziano and I."
Arthur looked up at the Italian man, but his face still had the same, dull expression. He didn't reply, but allowed the man to drag him into the carriage. Then, off they went into the night.
Lovino Vargas stepped out of the carriage, and yelled loudly at the driver to put the horses away for the night. They had arrived at Lovinos home, a small English Tudor house with a thatched roof. He owned this house in England, and visited occasionally. Lovino opened the door for Arthur, and told him to come inside and get warm. Arthur compliantly walked into the living room, and stood in front of the hearth. Lovino went off to get Arthur a pair of clean pajamas as Arthur stripped down to his bloomers, and hung up all of his wet clothing in front of the fire. Lovino reappeared and handed Arthur the pile of clean clothes.
"Don't go getting them dirty", Lovino said a bit grumpily.
Then Lovino went into the kitchen, to make a pot of tea for them both. Arthur got dressed, then sat down on the couch in a daze, shaking from the cold and staring out the window into nothingness as the rain poured down. The teapot whistled, finally snapping Arthur out of it. He turned around his head and met Lovinos eyes. Lovino surprisingly looked concerned. All the other nations knew Arthur had a problem. He no longer had sober days. In fact, he never seemed to be sober anymore. Every so often one of his friends would come by to check up on him, and they would always see practically the same thing every time. Either Arthur would be passed out on the couch, or he would be just barely conscious, his bloodshot and sleep-deprived eyes still open and staring blankly. Bottles littered the floor and never seemed to be cleaned up. When Feliciano visited, he would hug Arthur while he cried. Lovino also occasionally helped Feliciano take care of Arthur. Antonio would try to cheer up Arthur by taking him out for boat rides. Even Francis dropped off flowers a few times. Alfred never visited, or even wrote Arthur, and the other nations suspected that that was the cause of Arthur's depression. While in one of his drunk stupors, he would occasionally call out Alfred's name and then burst out into tears.
Lovino walked over with the tea tray, and sat down on the coach next to Arthur. There were two teacups, one for each of them. The two men sipped their tea in silence as the fire crackled. That is, until Arthur broke the silence. He set down his cup with a sigh, and looked over at Lovino.
"I don't like this", he said.
"What don't you like?", inquired Lovino.
"I don't like you seeing me like this", Arthur replied. "I don't like anyone seeing me like this."
There was silence again. Then Lovino turned back towards Arthur and asked a question that he had been wondering for quite some time.
"Do you by any chance have any...romantic feelings for Alfred?"
Arthur sputtered and choked on his tea. He look a bit shocked and taken aback. Yet again, there was a pause in the conversation. The two men sat quietly in the soft glow of candlelight. Finally Arthur spoke up.
"To be honest, yes I do."
He then set down his tea on the tray and buried his face in his hands. Lovino looked awkwardly at Arthur, unsure of how to comfort him.
"I always thought you were gay. Well whatever, just don't hit on me or anything." He paused for a moment, then added "I think Spain is too actually."
Arthur looked up and actually chuckled a bit, for the first time in a while.
"Well that's no surprise. Look at how tight he wears his breeches."
"One more thing. That Alfred is not worth crying over. He is a heartless bastard, to completely desert you like this after you were friends for so long. I HATE him."
"You really think so?"
"Yes, I really think that if he cared in the slightest, he would have contacted you at least. Maybe he would have sent a letter or two."
Now Arthur and Alfred had never been together as more than friends. Alfred never seemed to be interested in Arthur romantically, but platonically instead. That is, until they started having their fights, and even their friendship was ruined, as well as the relationship between their two countries. Alfred was a young, free spirit and needed independence. That last day, it had been raining, just like it was tonight. The two were facing each other on the battlefield, and Alfred had told Arthur that he was seceding. Then Alfred watched as Arthur fell down on his knees and cried, and did not comfort him. It was certainly the worst day of Arthur's life.
Lovino sighed as Arthur fiddled with his pocket watch and looked forlorn. Lovino could tell that Arthur was reliving that day. Then Arthur looked up at Lovino.
"You're probably right." He then smiled sadly. "I should be trying to get over him."