Long songfic is long.
Hello dearies~
So, this is a song fic I just came up with after listening to "A Thousand Years" by Christina Perri, and after reading some beautiful USUK angst (Our FF. community is filled with wonderful stories that just wrench the heart in all the right and wrong places.)
So, as the person who wrote this while listening to the same song on repeat- I'd say you should listen to the song first if you've never really heard of it. FEELS. I TELL YOU. FEELS.
NO. I AM NOT A FAN OF TWILIGHT- haven't even read the book to be honest. (I either just missed a gunshot, or will be living my life in a ditch 'cause I missed something 'revolutionary'.)
I know I'm not your mum, but:
:(For added feels, you may: Turn the lights off, listen to the song while reading, drink some water whilst reading, LISTEN TO THE SONG WHILE READING, hug a pillow, make a nest with a blanket and sit right there, LISTEN TO THE EFFIN SONG WHILE READING, or listen to Yiruma while reading. Listen to silence. Observe complete silence.
Warning: 'Added feels' activity may cause uncomfortable itches on the lower rear area and on your arms, uncomfortable sitting positions and or standing positions (hello, iPod men.). You may choose to ignore this warning and the added feels bar above. Thank you.):
The story's DIVIDED IN 3. The first verse. Chorus. 2nd verse. (And maybe the second verse would be the last, or I'll continue it up to the end of the song.)
and onto the story~
"And so, I so awesomely propose that…"
Arthur looked absentmindedly at the American on the stand, his chin rested uncomfortably on the back of his hand. He was lost gazing somewhere around the middle of the meeting, only recalling that the man was giving off a speech that was about oil and heroes or something.
He didn't listen, he never really did.
Instead, he'd stare on, lost in the concentrated yet smiling azure orbs of Alfred F. Jones- the United States of America. His ears melted at mans' clear and cool voice, every syllable dropping a 10 ton chill down his spine- though he'd never really pay any attention to the words flowing out of his lips.
His lips… When his eyes drop down, watching the other pace on rapidly about being awesome, they lock on one of the most beautiful feature's he'd ever seen. They looked soft and warm, and they'd glisten every time the light would shine over- unlike Arthur's which were usually a bit chapped- then he'd find his heart pacing right in the middle of the session…
…How he absolutely HATED that feeling. He wouldn't admit he'd a crush on his former colony. He just couldn't, that'd be absurd. Isn't it? Having a crush on the one who broke your heart into a million pieces hundreds of years back? Then again, finding it beat a million times faster when he's close- no.
Just no.
He'd let it go, he wouldn't take it.
Arthur Kirkland IS NOT and will NEVER BE in love with Alfred F. Jones- well, at least that's what he told himself.
The Brit sighed and his gaze dropped, lids slowly closing as his mind wandered off into god knows where- anywhere, as long as it was- err, was NOT rather, with the git.
-.-.-.-.-
Heart beats fast
Colours and Promises
-.-.-.-.-
"Engwand, it's dark…" the young nation whimpered, clinging to the older one's slacks, "D-Don't weave me, you pwomised." He looked up and begged, eyes searing into the darkness and finding Arthur's emerald ones.
He loved that colour. He loved how it shone and was that of a deep, forest green- full of wonder and amazement, yet concealed within the amazon that hid it in the beautiful shade.
"Oh Alfred," he heard the other's soft, reassuring voice echo, "…I-I won't, alright?" he said unsurely and squeezed the young lads' hand in his.
Alfred knew, always have. That when the clock rings 6 in the morning, Arthur would be bound to set sail and would come back every two weeks and stay for one… the loneliness would consume him for three days, but he found himself out in the village or with his bull with the rest of the time. Then he'd find that tomorrow, Arthur would come back.
He at least kept that promise.
That in two weeks' time, he'll find himself looking back at the beautiful colour and would continue being lost, resuming his adventure in them for a week and squeezing every story he could from the man all the same.
-.-.-.-.-
How to be brave
-.-.-.-.-
"Good night, Engwand." Alfred sighed softly and nuzzled deep into the other's chest. Calmed by the warmth and the gentle beats of the Englishman's heart, he could sleep.
"Good night, my little America." Arthur kissed the others' forehead softly, lingering for a moment, as if time grew longer for them both and what he held in his arms grew as fragile.
He loved the child dearly, oh so dearly.
The two weeks back at England were a pain. Two weeks back at Europe, in general, was hell.
France and his two friends were there - the frog teasing and touching him in all the most inappropriate places, only to be traded with a burning, red slap mark right on the cheek. Not to mention the stacks of paper, waiting to be signed and read right on his desk. After that, his officials- he could barely breathe back there.
But the two weeks were worth the wait. He had to stay strong for what followed after was a treasure; Even more than the ones he sought out in the 7 seas…
Arthur combed his hands slowly through the others' soft, golden locks, smiling at the cute cow-lick at the front. 'His name's Nantucket!' Alfred would insist, and his cheeks would grow pink and puffy. Arthur could only chuckle and agree with the small child's adorable whims.
-.-.-.-.-
How can I love when I'm afraid
To fall
-.-.-.-.-
"I will be independent." Arthur's dream- falling asleep when his lids closed gently- suddenly turned into a nightmare. His little boy suddenly growing up and boom… he was snapped right into the end of the Revolutionary War.
The rain pelted down the figures, crashing like bombs when they hit ground, turning the rich soil into mud in contact. Soil; this was Alfred- no; this IS AMERICA'S land now.
The Brit in the red revolutionary uniform dropped his head in defeat, tears quickly pricking his eyes then cascaded slowly down his cheeks- then poured out mercilessly as his heart wrenched at his loss.
Alfred. America. His colony- his 'little' brother. The one he'd been so ecstatic to see after all the mayhem. The one he watched grow yet wasn't exactly there some of the time.
… The one who brought him to his knees and shattered his unseeingly fragile heart.
Arthur had long dropped his musket; long cursed to the rain, to the heavens- to him, just asking 'Why? Why? WHY?'
Arthur's nose crinkled in discomfort and he shifted a bit more, feeling a lump form in the back of his throat. All that was left was Alfred's answer, then he'd leave- then the nightmare was over. He pleaded it would be over; this scene had played on his mind for too long, yet he never grew numb at the memory. He could never grow numb.
Although he seemed like he could care less, Arthur could have never been more scarred than he was.
So he just prepared his heart unconsciously for the American's answer, memorizing every word that came out that day.
Alfred slowly parted his lips, his once gleeful azure orbs seeming to seethe with pity and resentment as they glowered over Arthur's form.
…Something was wrong with this picture.
"You wouldn't know, England. You were never really there." He spoke, the words coming out bitter and merciless.
Wait. What?
"I know what you've been handling back there at EU. Two weeks over there, one week here? Psh. Don't give me that bull crap. I'm nothing but a tool to you." He spat dangerously, kicking the mud right in front of him and tainted the other country's face and uniform. The men behind him gasped, some elbowed the other and gave a prideful scoff.
Arthur's head shot up a bit and his eyes grew wide with terror, "A-Al- America, y-you can't-… You're not." He tried to explain, the words pouring out and faltered.
Alfred looked at him with a dead expression, making the poor man's heart crumble until it was nothing but dust.
He let out a shaky breath and looked at Alfred with a pleading expression, "America, please, I love you."
The battleground remained silent, the rain pouring a bit harder and Alfred's sheen, golden tresses grew dim under the grey clouds.
A few more seconds of silence came between the men, until Alfred spoke.
"Well, I don't." he said casually and scoffed.
This wasn't his answer. It's not making any sense!
Arthur looked like he was making a fool of himself, kneeling on the ground- eyes wide and empty. The tears had long washed over and his cheeks were dirtied by Alfred's new territory.
"Well, this tool's getting a little rusty, so I decided to get out shop." He held his chin high, giving an open hand to one of his men behind him. The man stepped forward and handed Alfred a musket. "Oh, you don't look so good, Iggy?" he said sarcastically and kneeled before the man, "Hey, you okay?" he tipped his head and gave a scoff then stood back up. "Are you gonna cry Iggy? Afraid I didn't love you back? Such a shame, isn't it?"
The American loaded it and aimed at the figure on the ground, "Here's to you, 'England'."
-.-.-.-.-
But watching you stand alone
-.-.-.-.-
"WAIT!" Arthur shot up his seat. His hands grasping at nothing but air, breaths paced, and his cheeks stained with tears. His eyes snapped open and froze there for some time until his body softened, falling back onto the chair.
The room had been empty, the red-orange glow from the setting sun reflecting through the large glass windows that surrounded. It had, indeed, been long empty.
Arthur slumped deeper in his seat, bringing up both his feet and hugged his face close to his knees, sobbing quietly.
He was terrified. He'd never seen Alfred like this. He'd never seen Alfred hold such resentment in his eyes- let alone disgust.
He was disgusted at Arthur.
Like he was part of the mud and nothing more.
And what's more to add was that he actually said that he hate-… Arthur cried a little louder.
Why? Of all times, why there? And why was it so wrong? Alfred wouldn't say that, he never would- right? Alfred wouldn't be so harsh; he wasn't the type to- was he?
Arthur let out one last shaky breath before he tried to stop crying, slowly letting down his lower body.
He didn't know the answer to that.
He didn't know the answer to any of those questions.
He distanced himself emotionally from the other nation ever since the war had been over; promised to himself that he wouldn't trust another person, or show as much affection ever again in his entire life as it just hurt too much to even try.
He looked at his hands, brows furrowed slightly and his lips turned to frown, "Bloody-… never again." He sighed shakily to himself, letting out the last of the chills as wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
"Never what? You're finally awake, huh?" had come a voice from behind.
Arthur perked up his seat; he knew this voice- knew it oh so well- listened to it as it grew. Footsteps echoed through the room and grew louder and louder towards Arthur.
His heart's tempo went along with the agonizingly slow clacks of heeled shoes, the beats of his heart growing louder as the steps and drummed through his ears. Of all the people… of all the time in the world, why now?
"You didn't listen to my discussion earlier, Artie. I worked really hard on that one too."
Arthur regained himself for a moment and scowled, "Don't call me that. It's Arthur- and England to you."
"Aww, but aren't we close dude? I thought we were, like, bro's or something." Arthur's chair swiftly swivelled around and he was face to face with the same man he's been trying not to fall for ever since the 'damned day'. "Earth to Artie, hello?" Alfred F. Jones pouted and leaned closer. "Dude, you look like shit. What happened? Broke up with France or something?" he tipped his head, waiting for an answer.
-.-.-.-.-
All of my doubt
Suddenly goes away somehow
-.-.-.-.-
Time froze for Arthur and he blinked.
Then he blinked twice, his cheeks suddenly growing a faint pink as his eyes locked with Alfred's.
Oh how he wanted to drown in them, how he wanted to stay this close with the American forever- maybe even closer. He wanted to feel those strong arms circle him, holding him close to the other's finely chiselled chest- closer to the other's calm, beating heart.
Arthur blinked once more, remembering where he was and shot off his seat, pushing the American off.
"Don't be absurd. Yankee bastard, why the hell would I even be caught out with that blasted frog?! Let alone, why it would be any of your business?" he stuttered, fixing his tie and letting his cheeks cool down.
Damnit, they were so close. Maybe a little too close…
"Ehh? But I'm just looking out for ya man! I'm a hero after all. And what you did this morning was something a villain would do- that's totally not you- well, the sleeping part." He pouted and walked towards Arthur. "C'moooon, tell Alfie." He tipped his head.
Arthur was wrong to look back at the American, finding himself blushing again at the gesture- not to mention the way the other's hips would sway as he walked.
Stupid!
Arthur, stop thinking damnit! This is no time to drool over- DON'T YOU DARE DROOL AT ALL YOU GIT!
"Artie?"
Arthur sighed and stepped back, letting his eyes fall to the floor. "I-It's nothing."
"C'mon Artie, you of all people should know that-"
"Alfred. Stop. It's nothing." Arthur let his voice grow a bit more and swung his head back, looking straight at the American. "Alright?" he raised a big brow.
Alfred kept quiet for a moment.
"Alright."
"Thank you."
Arthur closed his eyes and turned his heel. "Well, if that's all you needed, I shall be taking my leave."
And so he did.
-.-.-.-.-
One step closer
-.-.-.-.-
The door clicked close and Alfred stood there for a moment, some indescribable feeling washing over him, feeling that he should've acted fast. But he didn't.
He chose not to.
The country sighed and scratched the back of his head, "…or I'm just too chicken….right, some hero."
And right on the other side of the door, a certain bushy blondes' heart felt like it was about to explode.
"Stupid hero…"
So, how was that? Well, fave or review if you want. I'm just glad to get this all off my chest- so I won't force anything at all. Never do. I'm a pacifist... now bow down. (kidding~)
I hope you enjoyed reading, and if I update slow, please forgive me. I'm not, as you say, 'work fast, finish fast'. I like to take my time thank you. But of course I wouldn't let this die or anything, I'll try not to reach a month or 2 weeks either.
(I'm really doing my best aru. OTL)
I thank Annick for reminding me that I can write fanfics. = u=; I seriously forgot I knew how to write stories (crappy ones in my opinion, but that's just me.) == settles with essays.
And Ayu-chan for sticking with me through this shet, it was nearly 2 am.
So this thing is kinda dedicated to her too . u . so yeahh.
I'll be working on the chorus pretty soon~ As long as the song won't die down in my head, I'm sure I can finish this story.
Gambatte~
```MKyuu.```