Arthur sat in a chair, large and comfortable in his living room, occasionally looking at the flames glowing in the fireplace. It was quite early in the morning, being nearly 1 AM, but he'd woken up when the moon was in the center of the sky. The blonde had taken to reading one of the novels he hadn't had time to finish lately because of work. All was quiet and peaceful, only a soft drizzle outside for once, with no thunder.
Even with the fire crackling and like pattering of the raindrops on his windows, he could still hear a thud down the hall, somewhere Brit let out a pained breath, reaching for the unlit candle-hold next to him and lighting it as he stood and headed for the set of stairs nearby. It was the 21st century, and flashlights had been invented, but he was only traversing his own home and he rather liked the feel of the past.
It wasn't uncommon for things to go bump in the night in his home, the Brit remembering how one of his old colonies - a little blonde with cerulean eyes - had told him his house was majorly haunted. It had become even more common, however, within the last year.
Arthur saw the door at the end of the hall, the one leading to his own bedroom, and heard another thump - along with small, nearly inaudible noises from behind it. He knew what he would find on the other side of the door, a scowl on his face as he drew near but gently morphing into a frown. It was always the same thing, and it would continue until they could let go of the past.
The oak door was pushed open and Arthur's eyes dimmed with sadness from the sight before him. Light olive-tinted skin with gentle and delicate hands over usually bright, amber eyes. Auburn hair shivering, even the odd curl that stuck out from the side, moving by the sobbing motion of the form's shoulders. "Love?",Arthur called softly, holding out the candle to bring in some light and hopefully ease his lover's emotions. The figure looked up, for once amber eyes were opened and not holding any of the energetic Italian essence people expected.
"Did you have another dream, darling?",Arthur asked, being able to show his caring when no one was watching him, judging him, remembering the power-house he had once been and seeing what he had become now. The Italian nodded slowly as his lover drew near, Feliciano realizing that during his sobbing he had fallen from their bed and onto the floor, the sheets he had clung to desperately trying to follow him down. "Was it good or bad?",the Brit asked, knowing from experience that things with his lover, no matter how simple, could be overbearing.
"It-a was good, but it still-a hurts.",Feliciano whimpered, wiping futily at the new tears that fell. Arthur set his candle to the side on their bed-side table, seating himself beside the one that currently held his heart, and let the other bury himself in his arms.
Arthur knew his pain. Being a much older country, he'd had much more experience in his life-time. Just from being with him, Arthur could tell he was pining. Feliciano was an open person when asked something, so it didn't take more than a month for Arthur to find out about his childhood love, and how it had ended so abruptly, thought not abruptly enough. Arthur had felt his own pains during his time; the first being a red-head he had feared and admired when he was small. It was the first person he'd cared about, so to be treated as he was and then thrown away tore him deeply. Yet he had been young, and pushed himself to move on.
The second was a darker man, who would always flash a smile at Arthur's scowl, well up for the challenge of holding a sword to him whenever the time came. The hiding, sneaking and lying was thrilling and unwanted, but needed between the two - for being on different sides always called for those sort of things - before he got cut down for the last time and was, yet again, thrown away.
The last one, that still stung him, was a small blonde that grew far too fast, making Arthur proud as always but just as uneasy. With strength came a strong-will, and after a time it showed. Things were great until Arthur came home to find his things broken on more than one occasion, and a high temper being thrown at him in the form of any rebellion it could manage. Arthur had gotten thrown away again and had given up, expecting nothing else anymore. He had gotten together with his newest lover, Feliciano, on a whim that he didn't even care to ask about.
The Brit had always thought the sweeter Italian had a certain cute charm, so why not? They'd gotten together and soon Arthur found out that they both had been abandoned by someone dear to them. It had only happened once to Feliciano, and definetly wasn't as harsh as any of Arthur's experiences - but the Italian wasn't a harsh person, and rather weak, when he ran out of things to keep him going. It was the kid's first love, and just when things had gone better for him, finally trying to forget the person he'd lost hope in finding, the person who had a kiss and then the kiss-of-death - he got thrown a photo-copy of the one that had ripped his heart out.
The resemblance between Ludwig and the deceased was remarkable, being only different in physical age and uniform. It was obvious to those who knew the former why Feliciano clung to the brute whenever he got the chance. He was trying to rekindle the heart-broken flame that had burned him so badly in the past.
It never worked. It never got better. The blonde didn't remember a thing from his younger days, and it tore Feliciano apart. You could see it in his eyes, they said - that's one of the reasons he kept his eyes closed. Every time came home from hanging out with his ally, he would have tears in the corner of his eyes. It stung his brother, Romano, who tried so hard to separate them.
To him brother happy. To keep his brother safe. That never worked either. No matter what he did Feliciano would always run back to Ludwig. Run to him for safety, for comfort, for affection - even though the little affection Ludwig did manage was never enough. It didn't hold the same warmth if once would have, and it didn't hold the caring and meaning and emotion that Feliciano craved from the other. Arthur thought sadly, that it never would.
After days like today, where Ludwig would yell at him for slacking off or skipping training or needing to do something better, Feliciano still wouldn't run to his brother, he'd run to his lover. It's not that he didn't trust his fratello, or cherish him just as much - in fact he had once felt even more than a brother should at one point, but even someone as naturally air-headed as him knew that it was wrong and would never work, especially with the fawning and affection the other could earn from a real-true relationship with a certain Spaniard. Feliciano just needed the one who had felt the same hollowing pain that he felt everyday and every meeting.
Arthur wrapped his arms tighter around the other, trying so hard to spare his love's heart from the pain. The Italian only cried harder, grasping onto the fabric of Arthur's shirt desperately. "Hush love, you'll wake the dead.",Arthur teased, only lightening the mood of the air for a second before it dimmed once more into the caressed sobbing of his lover. Then the Italian sniffled, growing quiet. "What if-a that's what I want to happen?",Feliciano whispered, just loud enough for the mumbled request to reach his ears. Arthur's green eyes softened.
"You don't mean that, love.",the Brit soothed, running his hand through his lover's hair, avoiding the single strand that turned any situation into something completely different. Even that small strand stung Arthur, knowing his own blue-eyed-blonde shared the trait. Sometimes he would exploit it in their fun, but he always felt a pang during the night until Feliciano returned to soothe him with his own tender kindness.
"And-a what if I do? That would be-a the only way for things to change. To-a get him to.. To-a remember, at least.",the other scoffed, something he didn't do often. Arthur remained silent as the former cursed under his shallow breath and began to mutter in Italian. They stayed that way until well into the morning, Arthur having nothing to say until things slowly went back to normal in the day-light.
'Sometimes a memory just isn't enough, love..'
They stayed that way, letting the time pass slowly outside. Leaning against the side of the bed, the covers weakly drawn over their forms as they hold each other in shaking arms. Letting the silence linger in the air, and neither wanting to break it - instead letting the morning trills of a passing or waking dove break it for them.
They both knew this would happen, and it would never stop happening. For neither of them were what the other truly craved. They were both each other's second best, their comfort from the truth. They were both each other's escape, and until they two could learn to let go, that would be just enough to let their heart's relax and share the pain that would slowly, carefully and seamlessly end them together.