It was midnight. Crickets were chirping; the wood in the fireplace was crackling. A warm glow seemed to radiate from the fire. A figure sat, hunched in an armchair, and, with a shaking hand, reached out to grasp a half-empty bottle by its neck, bringing it to his lips and tilting his head to allow the alcoholic liquid to comfort him. Suddenly, a thought seemed to occur to the man, and he choked, quickly setting the bottle on the stand next to him as he gasped quietly. Then, a sob erupted from his mouth, broken, defeated; and the man whispered to himself, his voice cracking: "I don't understand..."
His body gave tiny heaves, and he sat back in his seat, drawing his legs up to rest against his chest. Another, more quiet sob came from the man as he hid his face and mumbled, "Even when you were young, you confused the hell out of me..." The man gave a long, shuddering sigh and whispered, "Alfred..."
There was a long pause, a mixture of the crickets chirping, the fire crackling, the man crying... And then, he reached out for the bottle again, taking a small sip. "... Y-You used to love me... A-And adore me, and respect me..." He shivered, a tiny, disappointed cry escaping him.
"What happened?"
Suddenly, he laughed a bitter, loud laugh. "I should have realized... that you were – that you had grown up, but..." A chuckle. "But I hardly got to care for you in the first place." More laughter, quiet this time. In the large room, the chuckles seemed to echo, and the man thought that the echoes sounded as though... as though they were laughing at him...
"The queen... Ah, the queen... She would always request her nation's presence, and those old buggers from Parliament would demand that I..." He paused, then practically spat, "that I share my opinions at every bloody meeting." The man sighed, slouching in his seat, idly rubbing his thigh. "And then... Then, it would take too long to hop across the pond to see you..." Another pause, followed by the sound of sobs — sobs that he was trying so desperately to hold back. "I regret it," he choked out. "My God, I regret it."
He sniffled, rubbing his eyes, trying so hard – so, so hard – to speak clearly, even though he was speaking to himself.
"One day, I left a child. A child." His voice cracked, but he paid no mind to it. "And then, I returned to a young man – a man – and... and that young man knew, just knew that I had botched up his childhood..."
"Oh, damn. Oh, damn..." The man choked again and hid his face.
"I'm sorry, Alfred, I'm... I'm sorry..."
His voice faded away and became nothing but quiet sobs, mixing with the innocently crisp, kind sounds of the fire. The door of the sitting room slowly opened, and another man entered, slowly walking in and stopping behind the armchair where the first man sat, looking like an awfully miserable mess.
Without speaking, the second man placed a hand on the first's shoulder, squeezing comfortingly. The sobs immediately stopped, and the first man sniffled, turning around in confusion before looking so incredibly guilty that the second man felt pity for him.
"Alfred..." the first man murmured, rubbing his eyes.
Alfred leaned down, wrapping his arms around the man as he did so, nuzzling his neck. And then he whispered, so quietly that the other almost failed to hear: "You're forgiven, Arthur."
The first man, Arthur, bit back a sob as he placed his hands over Alfred's. Alfred hummed, "Don't cry, Arthur. I love you. Don't cry."
"I-I... Thank you, Alfred..."
Arthur raised a shaking hand to stroke Alfred's blonde hair, tears shining in the glow of the fire. Alfred glanced up and smiled. Arthur gave him a teary smile back.
"You're welcome."
A/N: My first story published on FFN! My Arthur-muse was feeling rather depressed the other day, so I whipped this up. It got my Alfred to cry, ahah. If you like it, awesome! Leave a review if you want. If you didn't like it, please tell me why. (Although, if it's just because of the USUK, please don't rant or anything?) Grazie molto!