Setting: London, England, atop the Windmill Theatre, during WWII, specifically before America joins. Heavily influenced by the amazing movie "Mrs. Henderson Presents." Some dialogue taken from there too, so if you recognize it that's where it's from.
Anything you recognize, I do not own.
The personification of the United Kingdom sighed and looked forlornly over the city of London. From his vantage point, he could both see and feel the destruction being inflicted on his beloved capital.
His heart.
This roof in particular was one that covered a very popular theatre, one that specifically showed things of a nature inappropriate for children (though certainly not for young men). Many of his boys liked to frequent it before they were shipped off to the front, and occasionally, Arthur would stick around for a show (he was an "equal opportunity bachelor," after all). However, more often than not he would be found looking over London from the usually quiet roof.
Tonight, though, the roof wasn't quiet. The sounds of sirens drifted up to him, as did the shouting and shrieking from those who had not made it to an air-raid shelter in time. A slight breeze blew his hair out of his face, and Arthur thought that it was almost sad how used to those sounds he had become.
Nonetheless, the roof was a peaceful refuge where Arthur liked watching sunsets over London and the city itself. Sighing once more, Arthur placed his chin in his hand and precariously balanced his elbow on the round metal railing. No one but the owners of the Windmill knew he was there, so for the first time in a while, Arthur Kirkland relaxed and let his guard down.
Of course, that would be the exact second Alfred F. Jones barged through the rooftop access door.
"My God, Arthur! You idiot! Don't you know how dangerous it is to be up here? You of all people should know-"
"Hush, Alfred."
Arthur's figure, backlit by the flames licking at the skyline, barely moved and Alfred closed his mouth abruptly.
"It's not like I won't survive this anyways," he continued nonchalantly. If he had turned around he would have seen Alfred's mouth thin into a hard, grim line and a pained look enter his determined blue eyes.
"The Nazis could bomb this place anytime! You need to get inside, Artie," Alfred said worriedly. Arthur rolled his eyes.
"The krauts are over by the East End by now, dummkopf," the Briton sneered, gesturing to the formerly-pristine and lovely view in front of them. There was a beat of silence as the two took in the sight of the destruction wrought by the Blitz. Remembering why he had to come up here in the first place, Alfred stomped his foot, feeling rather childish but a little better because of the action.
"So because they're barely a mile away in the other direction it means you're safe? You- I- Argh!" Alfred tried and failed to properly express his anger at his beloved Englishman endangering himself in such a way.
Arthur shrugged, looking skywards at the dark clouds above. "It actually does mean I'm safe. They don't go back in one direction after-"
"You don't seem to take war seriously! You don't seem to understand how dangerous this war is!" Alfred almost shouted.
Arthur, looking the picture of calm save an angry flush high on his pale cheekbones, slowly turned to face the flustered American.
"I don't seem to take this war too seriously? I don't seem to understand? Really, America? You think I don't understand the consequences of this war, any war?" Arthur's green eyes glittered in the dying light. Alfred's mouth was suddenly dry.
"I-"
"You think I don't understand?" Arthur whispered. Far below, a siren blared. Gently, Arthur slid a hand up to touch Alfred's cheek, feeling the warmth under his cool fingers. Alfred swallowed hard, eyes fixed only on the Englishman.
"You stupid, silly boy. I take war far more seriously than you think," he took a deep breath and brushed his thumb across Alfred's cheek, "and I understand the consequences far too well."
There was a pause in which sky blue eyes tried to read everything they could about tired green ones. As Alfred almost leaned into Arthur's touch, the shorter man let his hand fall and turned back to watch London, his heart, going up in flames.
"Why did you come up here, Alfred? To play the hero; to save me and scold me?" Arthur leaned heavily on the thin railing, the flaming skyline reflected in his green eyes.
Alfred opened his mouth to speak but the words I was worried about you seemed to choke him. Arthur turned back around after a few seconds of silence and simply watched the younger man flounder for words.
"Iggy, I-"
"Don't call me that!" Arthur snapped. There was silence once more. Arthur's shoulders slumped and he laughed bitterly. "Nothing. I thought so. I'm going downstairs, dearest hero, and if you know what's good for you you'll follow." The Englishman's tone was dripping with scorn and spite but almost seemed… sad. Before Alfred could comment on this though, Arthur turned on his heel and briskly walked over to the stairs leading down to the rooftop access door. He was at the top of the stairs, hand on the railing, when Alfred called out to him.
"Arthur, wait!"
The blonde turned around and brushed his bangs out of his eyes. "What is it now, America?"
Sirens continued to wail and the sounds of the girls crooning inside the building clashed with the cacophony of panicked shouts and shrieks from the streets below. Alfred opened his mouth just as another bomb was dropped on the East End. Arthur flinched minutely, and when it was apparent that Alfred wasn't going to say anything, he tossed his hair out of his eyes once more with a shake of his head and lightly padded down the stairs.
The door clicked.
Alfred looked over the dark sky to London's burning East End once more. Softly, so softly that it could barely be heard over the distant sirens and screams, Alfred whispered "I love you" to the empty rooftop.
All-my-friends-have-boyfriends-and-I've-got-no-one inspires angst. Watching "Mrs. Henderson Presents" makes me happy enough to get ideas. The first day back to school (and consequent spotting of all the "look-we-got-together-over-break" couples) gives me motivation to write. And thus, in the final half of Spanish and first half of Health, I wrote this.
(all the things i bang out in a period are awesome. the ones that take days suck. whyyyy? /cries in a corner)
So, um, review, please? And I know that a few sentences are off in their structure but I have no idea which ones (because I'm rubbish at sentence structure, or so sayeth my English grade) so if you correct them I will be incredibly grateful. :)