Hey guys! :D
I know, it's been taking me forever on the next chapter for "What A Way To Fall", but I swear it will be up... soon. Don't hurt me! :(
Also this is a one-shot, and will stay that way. I just felt like jotting this down as quickly as possible since it was basically a plot bunny nipping at my ankles. It's also not in any way related to "Fall".
Disclaimer: The following is a non-profit piece of fiction made by a fan. Hetalia and the characters are the property of Studio DEEN and Hidekaz Himaruya. Please support the official release.
Arthur wasn't sure how to feel. He was nervous, hopeful, and scared all at once.
It all began on the day of a G8 summit; it was supposed to be a meeting about addressing the then-recent economic recession. Alfred's role in it particularly.
It ended with the conference room reeking of sex, sweat, blood and a sharpie marker.
And now, fifteen years had passed. Since then, Alfred followed through on his promise to fix things. The economy had slowly but surely and steadily recovered, some minor and major conflicts arose and were resolved, and life went on.
But there was still one major wrinkle that needed to be ironed out.
He stood in front of Alfred's home in Washington DC, trying to work up the courage to just go ahead and ring that doorbell. He would finally say an apology that was long overdue, because... well, looking back on it, Arthur had to admit, he had gone a bit overboard. For a recession that, in retrospect, was pretty insignificant compared to things like the Great Depression.
Alfred (and for that matter, Matthew) had become far more distant from others, only interacting with a handful of nations and only when he absolutely needed to. Arthur had raised Alfred since childhood and knew him better than anyone. The change in personality had been jarring - in the aftermath of "The Incident", Alfred was far more serious in demeanor, like his trademark optimism and sense of humor had been replaced with a more ruthless air... and some degree of paranoia too. The other nations noticed it too of course, but they just chalked it up to Alfred finally taking a hint and actually doing his job and not joke around with it, and they treated him with far more respect that they had in earlier years.
But he knew that it was all because of The Incident. He had hurt Alfred, and hopefully now was the right time to finally apologize. Better late than never, right?
He rang the doorbell. He could hear a yell on the other side saying, "I'll be there in a sec! You better not be selling me something!"
Even after that day, Alfred still had some trace of his sense of humor. Arthur cracked a smile at that. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all...
The door opened and Alfred's initially cordial smile immediately faded away when he saw who was coming to his home. Arthur felt his heart sink at that, but he was determined to see this through.
Arthur swallowed the lump in his throat and warmly said, "Hi Alfred. It's been some time since we've spoken."
Alfred rolled his eyes and said, "Yeah, it has been."
An awkward silence took, neither really knowing what to say next. It had been a long time, and while they did have quick conversations for the sake of putting a good face on for everyone else, they never had a one-on-one talk with each other since... well...
Finally Alfred asked, "Want to come in?"
"Sure," Arthur replied, coming into the house. 'Yes! It's on track! All going well! Whatever you do Arthur, don't fuck this up,' Arthur thought to himself with quiet gleeful excitement that hopefully Alfred didn't notice. He didn't want to come on too strong with this.
Alfred's home was a nice looking place, adequately decorated with some nice little paintings, posters, vases and some nice shiny gadgets. Arthur took a quick glance at the living room and it seemed even fifteen years later, Alfred still hadn't lost his love for giant high-definition TVs and collecting video games of all kinds. He even saw a Super Nintendo among the recent VR consoles that had come out just last year.
"Want a drink or a bite to eat?" Alfred asked.
"No, I'm doing fine. Already ate an hour ago."
Alfred shrugged and asked, "Well, want to come out to the patio with me? Have a smoke?"
"Sure."
The outside was quite pretty too. It wasn't quite suburban, but it was far enough from the city to provide a nice tranquil change of pace. Trees and nature surrounded the house, and it wouldn't shock Arthur if there were animals around here daily. The backyard also had a decently sized pool, a large barbeque grill and a few scattered chairs. Alfred took a seat and pulled a blue colored pack of American Spirit cigarettes, lighting one up. Arthur joined in, letting the burn linger in his throat for a moment before exhaling a thick puff of smoke out.
Alfred finally asked, "So... how have you been lately?"
Arthur replied, "Been doing well. The work we've done for relief efforts in Darfur has been very successful, and I've been working to get my application with the Federation to go through."
"That's good," Alfred nodded, looking rather distant.
"How about you?" Arthur asked, trying to get the conversation rolling.
"Not bad. Social Security has stabled itself out, the healthcare legislation has gone well and the Green Initiative has given a lot of jobs to the younger workers in the force. We're thinking of expanding through other countries soon."
Arthur smiled, glad to know that Alfred was doing well at least. He was worried and nervous for nothing.
"Well, I'm sure you wouldn't be here just to catch up," Alfred said, taking another drag out of his cigarette. "What brings you out into this neck of the woods?"
It was finally decided to get down to business. Arthur took a deep breath, put out his cigarette and replied, "Well, Alfred... the reason I'm here is because... I have done a lot of reflecting, and I realize that what I did to you fifteen years ago was absolutely shitty. I hurt you tremendously, and you didn't deserve any of that."
"So you're apologizing," Alfred replied, taking another puff out of his cigarette. His tone was surprisingly nonchalant and casual, but Arthur tried to push on.
"Yes," he said wholeheartedly. "I'm sorry, Alfred. I'm really, truly, from the bottom of my heart, sorry for what I've done to you."
Alfred was silent for a moment, simply finishing the rest of his cigarette before he discarded it into the ashtray. He finally spoke.
"Okay. It's good to hear that you know what you did was pretty fucking shitty." For a second, he paused before speaking again. "But I don't forgive you."
Arthur's jaw nearly dropped. He wasn't sure he heard that right. Did Alfred just say... ?
Arthur shook his head, refusing to believe it. With a shaking voice, he asked, "Wait, what?"
Alfred turned to Arthur, finally truly making eye contact with his former caretaker. And here, Arthur could see his former charge's eyes narrowed and blazing with scorn, anger and hatred, his features hardening into an uncharacteristic seriousness he never would have expected from the other nation.
Alfred repeated with a firm tone through clenched teeth, "I said I don't forgive you."
If hearing it the first time felt like a rug was being pulled out from under him, hearing it a second time felt like the ground collapsed underneath Arthur's feet and he was falling down a bottomless pit. Sure, he knew there was a possibility that Alfred wouldn't accept his apology, but it had been fifteen years! Surely Alfred had to have moved on and would know he was being serious about this!
"But, Alfred... did you even hear a word I said? I said I was sorry! I admitted what I did was wrong!" Arthur told him, feeling like he had just been kicked in the balls.
"Yeah, I heard you. And I'll reiterate - I don't forgive you," Alfred said, his tone hard, bordering on growling.
"But how?! Why?!" Arthur was now pleading with everything he had, "Name it! Anything! Tell me what I have to do to let you know that I am serious! I really am, Alfred! I feel horrible about what I did! You have to believe me! I wouldn't be here if I wasn't!"
But Alfred clearly wasn't taking it. He simply grabbed Arthur's wrist tightly, dragging him back into the house. After closing the door, he turned around. Alfred was practically towering over Arthur, giving off a frightening aura of imposing darkness. He was taking several heavy breaths, clearly making an honest effort to keep himself from becoming violent or screaming.
He began to speak.
"I'm not going to give you even an ounce of forgiveness for what you did to me on that day, Arthur. You don't deserve any of that. You have to live with this shitty thing you did for the rest of your life, and it's going to be a very, very long one. You have to know that it's never, ever going to be okay! Because no matter how long it has been or will be since that day, no matter how much therapy I get, no matter how much alcohol I drown myself in, no matter how sorry you feel, I can never feel better or "get over it"! And I sure as hell am not going to forgive you just because you feel bad and you need to clear your conscience! Do you know what it was like for me? I had nobody. Even Matt couldn't completely understand! I knew all those phonies like Ivan, and Yao, and maybe Kiku and Lovino, would turn their backs on me the second the going got rough, sure. But you? You didn't just hurt me, Arthur; you fucking stabbed me in the back, humiliated me, took away all of my dignity and then some, and then crapped all over the trust and love that I had for you like it meant absolutely nothing to you! You swore that you would protect me and have my back. And you abandoned me. I will never forgive you for that! Now get the fuck out of my house."
Tears of rage were pouring down Alfred's face, his fists shook at his sides, and he was breathing even harder, both to control his own rage and to fill his lungs back up after that long rant. He had clearly been wanting to say that for years.
It was utterly heartbreaking to hear from Alfred's own mouth the sheer amount of damage that he had caused. Yet Arthur just couldn't give up.
"Alfred, please listen, I-"
"GET OUT!"
He could barely suppress the squeak of fear that escaped his lips. Arthur hastily grabbed his things and ran out before Alfred could grab a gun and start making him really hurt.
'Well, that didn't go over well... ' Arthur bitterly thought as he drove on his way back to his hotel. He tried to ignore that voice in the back of his mind laughing at him, calling that "the understatement of the century".
He had it all planned out, and had nothing to show for it. Just the guilt and the everlasting sting of Alfred's hatred and refusal to ever forgive him.
Well, okay, sure, he knew there was a possibility this would happen, but he didn't want to believe it could. He wanted to believe in the best possible outcome (i.e., Alfred accepting his apology, forgiving him and taking the first steps together in the long road to healing), but now, it had been reduced to nothing more than a fool's fantasy.
As much as he hated to admit this, Alfred had every damn good reason to. Alfred did trust him, loved him, had the "special relationship" with him... broken trust was always a hard thing to mend, and Arthur completely, thoroughly and utterly destroyed Alfred's faith in him, along with any chance of ever salvaging it.
And even if the impossible chance came that Alfred would change his mind and forgive him, things still would never be the same between them. The Incident, and Arthur's own part in it, would hang over them like a dark cloud, forever.
He made his choice, did the deed, and would have to live with the consequences for a long, long time.
Alfred drank a glass of Jack and Coke, smoking another cigarette by the pool. He had to unwind after having spent the past couple of hours following Arthur's visit blowing off steam by first breaking several punching bags to shreds and then making a bunch of little thirteen year old noobs on X-Box Live cry for their mommies after killing their characters off in rapid succession while they never landed a hit on him.
He had reflected on the day's events momentarily before he felt a vibration in his back pocket and heard a ring. He took his phone out and checked the caller ID.
Speak of the Devil.
"Hey Matt," Alfred greeted his brother after accepting the call. "How're you?"
"Doing alright. And you?"
Alfred was silent for a moment before replying, "Well, it's kinda hard to say... "
Matt immediately seemed to get worried as he asked, "What is it? Did something happen?"
"Whoa, Matt calm down! I'm fine!"
"Well, then, what happened?"
Oh Matt... he had done so much for Alfred over these last fifteen years, as did Toris. In the first few years after the rape, Alfred had been in no condition to do anything as a nation, leaving the two of them to take over his duties and responsibilities. Alfred did feel bad for having them pull double duty for him, hence one of the reasons why he finally decided to see the first of his therapists about three years after The Incident.
Matt was affected in many ways himself, feeling just as betrayed and angered for what Arthur and Francis especially did to Alfred. Sure, the two North American brothers hadn't always gotten along, but they were brothers and were the other's only blood relation on top of that. To see how those two completely disrespected the bonds of family like that sickened him utterly.
Alfred just knew that even if he could ever bring himself to forgive his attackers, Matt never would be able to.
He finally replied, "Arthur came by earlier today. He tried to apologize to me."
"What?! You're pulling my leg! Seriously?! What did he say?" Matt asked in rapid succession. He was clearly surprised at this.
Alfred shrugged as he took a sip from his drink and answered, "He came by because he, and I quote, did a bunch of reflecting, and realized he did a pretty shitty thing to me and said sorry to me."
Matt dryly laughed. "Arthur Kirkland, the guy who refuses to believe his cooking is garbage despite all evidence, actually admitting he did wrong? Next thing you tell me would be that pigs will start flying."
"Hey, I couldn't make that one up if I tried, Matt," Alfred said, rolling his eyes. Still, he couldn't fault Matt for having a hard time believing this.
"I know, Al. So... what did you say to that?"
"Told him that it's all fine and dandy, but I couldn't forgive him after what he did. I... I just can't, even after all these years. I know it would do me good - to be the better man, get closure on all this, and put it all behind me. But I can't, Matt. I really can't," Alfred replied sullenly, finishing off his cigarette.
For a moment, Matt was silent, and Alfred could faintly hear the click of a lighter going off, signifying Matt needed a smoke now. Matt puffed on his own cigarette a few times before he finally found what to say.
"It's alright, Alfred. For what it's worth... I don't blame you at all. Sometimes, a wound can run too deep to fully heal. And some things, like trust and friendships, can get so badly damaged by someone's fuck up, that they can never truly be fixed. You shouldn't have to feel bad about not being able to forgive them after they humiliated you and betrayed you like that."
Alfred finished the rest of his drink and went back into the house, nodding along with Matt's reassurance. "You have a good point there, bro. I don't know... I do feel a lot better now though. Probably because I finally got all that stuff off my chest."
"Probably," Matt mused, taking another puff out of his cigarette. "Anyway, got to get going. Have to finish a couple of errands, and I have to hit the pillow early. Got a big meeting early in the morning," he said with a slight groan.
Alfred chuckled and said, "Alright, Matt, I understand. Thanks for calling."
"No need to thank me. You know I'm always here for you, Al. And remember - anytime you need a good ear, I'm here."
"Of course, Matt. Good night. Love you, bro."
"Love you too. Good night."
Alfred then pushed the "end call" button, and put his glass into the dishwasher. He then went up to a certain cabinet, undoing the lock on it, and took the contents out.
A medium-sized bong and a big bag of Purple Berry Kush would be his company tonight as he would close the day out watching some comedies before going to sleep.
He loaded the bowl up, and flicked the lighter on. A few deep breaths, hold it in, let the burn linger and exhale. Alfred coughed a few times, but that pain faded away as he took a few more hits, and soon, everything loosened up and he felt his body melt into the nice comfy sofa. Now that his head was a bit clearer, he could think on the events of the day a little less emotionally.
He knew some would say he was being vindictive, that he was being an asshole for rejecting Arthur's sincere apology, that holding grudges did more harm than good, two wrongs didn't make a right, and whole load of other optimistic "be the bigger man" bullshit.
And he didn't care for any of that.
The first couple of years had been hell (or something close to it). Nightmares every single night, as Matt would hold him and sing him to sleep; frequent binges on several kinds of drugs (particularly painkillers, Xanax and amphetamines) to try numbing the pain; and there were at least five different suicide attempts (all foiled by Matt and Toris, of course).
He'd seen a few therapists here and there. A couple of them were really good, as they helped him to get past the nightmares and trauma, find new channels for his pain and anger, and find the strength to continue and ultimately get himself back on track to do his responsibilities. But others were just incompetent and naïve little fools when they suggested that he forgive his attackers.
He never could.
Sure, it was probably a path to healing, a way to finally get closure and put this whole shitty situation behind him... And the thought of being the better man by forgiving his assailants after what they did to him did sound appealing.
But he couldn't ever consider it. After all, why should the victim always have to be the one to forgive and forget?
And even if Alfred could find it in him to forgive them somewhere along the road, he could never forget it. He would always have that suspicion in the back of his mind that they could stab him in the back again.
If refusing to forgive them meant he wouldn't heal all the way, that was fine. Alfred could live with that. And he felt a lot better now than he had been in a long time.
But now was not the time for intermittent navel gazing. He had a whole Netflix queue of comedies to watch while stoned off his rocker!
Author's Note: First, a little explanation - I got the inspiration for this story after watching an episode of the Netflix show "Bojack Horseman", where the title character tries to make amends with an old friend of his, twenty years after a major fall-out occurred between them. What truly stood out to me in that episode is that Bojack's friend Herb (who's revealed to be terminally ill) refuses to forgive Bojack for abandoning him despite knowing he could die soon. In a lot of ways, Herb's refusal to forgive him hits harder and feels more raw and deeper, knowing that this one incident damaged things so much that no matter how truly sorry you might be, nothing will ever fix it.
So I decided to apply it to this story. I realize I sound a bit vindictive, but I truly have a hard time believing anyone, even an optimist, could easily forgive a major transgression against them, especially if they were a tried-and-true friend. Alfred isn't necessarily holding a grudge, but he refuses to let Arthur (and for that matter, his other attackers) off the hook for what happened.
And even on the off-chance that, maybe somewhere down the road, Alfred does decide to forgive them, he won't ever forget it, and nothing will ever be the same as before. It's a situation that completely destroyed everything, and it can't be put back together again.
That's the true tragedy behind the repugnant piece of shit known as the Financial Crisis Gangbang.
Also, I don't know a lot of weed names (there are many different kinds), so I came up with a very cliche one. Oh well.