Outside of Arthur's window was a beautiful sunrise with a sky blue horizon growing and swallowing the rest of the sky in a fantastic, cloudless morning, rare for England. However, inside the Brit's isolated room, it was gloom and the sunshine slowly invading his room was dreaded and unwelcomed.

It slowly flooded up to his bed and ran over his face, Arthur's brows knotting up as he flipped over but the light blended with his snow white sheets, blinding him almost. He grunted while pulling the thick covers over his head and burrowing more into his sanctuary.

Sadly, falling back asleep was beyond his grasp now as the sun rose higher in the sky. Arthur grumbled under his breath, a tiny bit of his mind nudged by the idea of being awoken by a certain little boy again. That died down though quickly as Arthur remembered his cruel reality of the moment.

Very slowly and hesitantly, the lad stood to his feet with the cover wrapped around his thin frame, engulfing him with its mass. He trudged out of his room, his feet softly padding against the wooden floor but stopped at a lonesome door at the end of the hall. His deep green eyes dulled more as his hand weakly reached and opened the door.

Arthur pushed it open, the bronze knob tapping the wall and it echoed in the hollow room. The hollow room that held so many bittersweet memories to him; sickly sweet memories of growing up and raising his independent child, Alfred.

Any hope in his eyes withered away as he paused to take a step inside. The floor was cold and battened from years of aging and rough play while there were several scratches scattered about. The room was empty except for a few, unused boxes and a window open with flowing curtains, reaching out from the gentle breeze. A small bird even perched on the sill for an instant to chirp a soft song.

Even as the carefree melody greeted Arthur's ears, he was unaffected and duller than a nail. The small, yellow bird flew away as he came to slowly close the window and pulled the curtains to block out the light again. In the dimly lit room, he looked back to it, imagining if nothing ever changed.

"Hey, Momma! Let's play robbers and cops!" His eyes widened slightly as the youthful boy came to pull at his hand, wanting him to come play with him.

"Al-Alfred?" He asked but for the vision to melt away, making him realize his solitude in this once alive and vivid room. Arthur's excitement died down again as he lowered his head slightly, letting all the colorful and pleasant memories flood him again.

Well. What used to be pleasant memories.

"Wow! Are these for me? They have their own faces!" "It was custom-made." "So cool! Thank you, Arthur! Thank you, thank you~!" A flash of Alfred first getting his present of British soldier figures came to him till to the other side of the room, he saw the bed again.

"Ah, you wet the bed again?" "Don't laugh!" Alfred cried softly in embarrassment, wiping his eyes with a cherry red blush as Arthur changed the sheets for him. "I'm not laughing! Please don't cry; it's normal!" "P-Promise!"

Arthur blinked when he finally noticed the hot tears rolling down his face. He wiped his red cheek and checked it as they continued to fall. The Brit tried wiping more of it away but felt the softest touch on his hand.

He flinched and looked down to Alfred yawning, "Momma, can we go to bed now? I'm sleepy…!" He murmured as he reached up to be hugged close to his chest. "Al-Alfred…!" His voice was needy as he knelt down; trying to embrace him tightly to his chest but the boy vanished in the dust. A peg stabbed Arthur in the heart as the room, so decorated and stuffed, twisted back to its empty, white blandness.

Arthur cringed, throwing up his head to the horrible reality. It wasn't fair. Why did he have to leave? For his country? Fuck America! Arthur wanted his sweetest Alfred back! He wanted to cradle him to his person so closely forever! Slowly, his silent crying began to grow louder as he curled together in his large covers, lying on the cold ground.

"England," He hated being called that now. "I want freedom, England." No, you don't. You want me to be with me. You've wanted to be with me. Forever and ever. Arthur began to cling to his sheets as if they were his little boy, his desperation hiding everything away and giving him his false bliss.

"…Go ahead, and… and shot if you want." Idiot. I could never shot you. No matter what. He started to coo to his imaginary boy, "Shh, shh, not a sound. It's only the wind," Arthur smiled, lost in his wonderland. I thought we'd always be together. Why did you leave me? Why?

His tears made his cheeks puffy and red and his eyes blur as he pulled away to have a look at his dearly child. "I love you, Alfred," Arthur murmured so happily even in a cracking voice. He stroked his soft cheeks, enjoying the warmth of Al curled around him, acting as the boy's security blanket.

To Arthur, his reality was mixed with his fantasy as he could feel, smell, see, and hear the boy now. He was oblivious to his depression's cruelty as he was captured in the bitter sweetness. "You'll never leave me again, right? R-Right?" His voice cracked as his tears slowed and he saw the fully grown Alfred now, sleeping peacefully in his arms now.

"Right?" He asked again, nuzzling into the top of his head to place a kiss. "Right, Arthur." Those sky blue eyes looked up to him with adoration and affection as he squeezed the Brit close to him. Arthur closed his eyes with a content sigh. For the moment, everything was right in the world and nothing could break the two apart. Nothing.

In reality, Arthur was huddled up in his plush covers, in the middle of Alfred's abandoned room, talking to himself and crying silently. He stroked the air like something was there, but nothing was. Not even one of his magical friends was there.

He was alone. So painfully alone in the solitude of his house. Isolated and broken. He would coo to the air, whispering I love you's and sweet nothings like he was handling a child. Arthur was so heartbroken over the abandonment of his dear child. No matter what, he couldn't get his mind around it.

It had consumed his life. If only Alfred could see the damage he had struck upon his former caretaker…

Wow, thats rather depressing right there.

Anyway, a fanfic to represent Arthur's depression for Alfred becoming his own nation! The idea came to me when listening to No Doubt and Empire of the Sun. This is probably the only fic of mine I wanna keep and not just because its a short story.

Ciao