Memories
~o0o~
Arthur looked down at the floor, unshed tears stung at the back of his eyes. His breath was ragged and shallow. His daily Earl Grey tea sat on the table in front of him. Not a single drop was missing from the still steaming cup. How long had it been since the accident? How long since Alfred had decided to take off? Leave this world for good... How long?
Arthur could no longer remember, nor did he want to. But nations are unfortunately not normal people. No matter how much he wanted to forget, he couldn't completely forget the incident. The other countries would never come over to try and console him. He could never forget. He kept telling himself that it was all Yao's fault, or it was all Ivan's fault, or that Francis was to blame. He blamed everyone excluding himself. But there was a nagging feeling in the back of his head that kept telling him to get his head out of the clouds. To stop dreaming. It was his fault and he knew it.
~o0o~
It was the Fourth of July and Arthur was wishing that he could just disappear. Alfred had invited him to the celebration at his house and he desperately wanted to stay at home. But the Brit didn't want to disappoint the cheery American. Still, he dreaded every single moment of the plane ride there.
The plane touched down and the passengers were starting to file out of the aircraft. Arthur was taking a painstakingly long time to get out and hoped that Alfred wasn't waiting for him wearing something flashy or holding up a sign that was bigger than himself. But he knew that that just wasn't the American's style.
As soon as he got his luggage and was preparing to head out he saw a large neon sign. It was huge, at least twenty feet in width and ten in height. It had large neon letters spelling out "Arthur Kirkland" in letters that glowed red, white and blue. The Englishman saw Alfred standing in front of it and waving his arms and yelling.
"YO! IGGY! I'M OVER HERE MAN! CAN YOU SEE ME!? THIS SIGN IS SO FRIKIN AWESOME! YOU LOVE IT DON'T YOU!?"
Arthur face palmed and proceeded to walk towards Alfred. He set his suitcases down in front of the American and scowled.
"You bloody idiot. Are you trying to call the attention of every single bloody person in this airport?"
The bespectacled American scratched the back of his head and blinked.
"Well, yeah. That was my first plan… But I guess now that you say it like that…"
Arthur sighed.
"Nevermind, you git. Let's go already."
When they arrived at a certain American's house (more like mansion) , it was loud and bright. Many voices rang from inside it and Alfred's smile grew even more. He walked in with Arthur and everyone turned their attention towards the two and the blue-eyed blonde pumped his fist in the air.
"Iggy is in the HOUSE! Let's get this party started!"
It had been at least six hours or so and Arthur was sitting out on the balcony while everyone was having fun inside. The day hadn't gone as well as he had hoped, and he had some pretty low standards for the Fourth of July anyhow. He counted off on his fingers everything that had gone wrong since he came. Number one, there was a banana peel on the floor (nobody knew where it came from) and he had slipped and smashed his face into a large layered cake. Number two, Francis hadn't been watching where he was going and had knocked into him, causing him to spill his red wine all over the front of the Brit's favorite shirt. Number three, some bloody idiot had thought it was a good idea to put plastic wrap on the toilet.
He shuddered at the last thought and looked ahead at the starry sky. This day was turning out worse than he had thought it would and he had already loathed it from the very beginning anyhow.
He heard footsteps from behind him and looked behind him curiously. It was Alfred, he was hiding something behind his back but at the moment, the Brit couldn't care less.
He turned his attention away and looked back at the sky. The blue-eyed American stood next to him and looked in the same general direction before sighing and smiling down at the slightly scowling blonde.
"Hey, Artie?"
Arthur's heart skipped a beat for some unknown reason. Alfred never called him anything besides, Britain, England, or Iggy.
"What is it you wanker?"
"I… I wanted to tell you something…"
The green-eyed Brit sighed and ran a hand through his messy blonde hair, he wasn't exactly in the mood for a jittery America. But he would listen nonetheless. At least for a while.
"A-Arthur… I-I just wanted to say…"
Arthur's patience (which was already paper-thin) was starting to reach its breaking point and he looked at the American who was turning slightly pink. His bushy eyebrows bunched together and his scowl deepened.
"Well!? What is it?! Spit it out! Or are you afraid? You didn't seem afraid when you decided to become independent!"
Alfred was looking at him with wide eyes. Arthur glared back. He didn't know why he was so cross with his loud younger "brother" now but he didn't seem willing to try and soothe his temper.
"Arthur. Let me ex-"
"No!"
The Brit had finally snapped.
"No! I am tired of hearing you speak! Let me have a say for once! I've been hurting all these years but I kept my feelings locked up because I didn't want to seem like a whiny little brat! But you! You have to have a bloody party every bloody year to remind us all that you're independent! You don't think about how I would be affected by this! You don't care whether or not I hurt! Do you!? I… I HATE YOU!"
Alfred's already wide eyes grew to the size of dinner plates and the object he had been hiding behind him fell to the floor. It was a bouquet made of the United Kingdom's national flowers.
Arthur spied the bouquet out of the corner of his eye and his angry expression fell from his face. There were thistles, roses and shamrocks, even a couple daffodils here and there. His breath caught in his throat and he looked at the distraught country in front of him.
"Alfred…"
Said American forced a smile and sighed sadly. He picked up the bouquet and set it in front of Arthur.
"I'm sorry. I never considered how you would feel. Here, you can keep the flowers."
The now teary-eyed Alfred left the balcony, leaving a shell shocked blonde behind him. The Brit sighed and picked up the bouquet, he studied it before he found a small note attached to the side. Opening it, he read the short passage.
Hey Artie~
I can call you that, right? Anyways, I know that you might still be mad at me but if it means anything, I'm still sorry. I really love you. A lot. It's a bit embarrassing but I wanted to ask you if you would go out with me.
A Hero, Now And Forever
Alfred
Arthur gripped the note tightly and cursed at himself for being such an idiot and losing his temper when he did. He ran out of the balcony and down the hallway to the living room. He turned to Francis and asked where Alfred went. The Frenchman simply pointed to the door and the Brit was outside in the blink of an eye. He looked around frantically and saw a familiar blonde walking across the street with his hands in his pockets. He was slumped forwards and looked extremely upset.
"Al!"
The blonde looked up to see the Brit, he smiled but there was a hint of sadness to it.
"Did you come out here to get away from the party? I wouldn't blame you. It was totally my worst work BY FAR."
Arthur felt a stab of guilt and was about to speak when he heard the sound of a car coming down the street. He turned his head around and saw a van speeding down the road and he floundered for a second. A second too late.
"Alfred! Look out!"
But before the surprised American could turn his head the car had made impact. There was a sickening crunching noise and Alfred flew backwards, landing in a heap on the sidewalk.
Arthur felt a wave of shock and horror crash over him at the scene and he rushed over to Alfred. He knelt next to him and shook his shoulder gently, earning a moan of pain from the critically wounded blonde. Texas was still precariously perched on his nose and he made a groaning sound before he grasped Arthur's hand.
"Hey dude?"
"Yes Alfred?"
"Make sure that everyone remembers how awesome of a hero I was…"
"No."
"What?"
Arthur felt his throat tighten.
"No, because… I won't have to remind them if you are there to make them remember, you git."
Alfred smiled weakly and chuckled. The blonde Brit felt his eyes watering.
"Dude... That's not… funny…"
Alfred's grip loosened and his hand started to slip from Arthur's. The Brit grabbed onto him desperately and tears began to pool at the corners of his eyes.
"You bloody wanker! Wake up! Wake up and tell me this was all a sick joke! Wake up! It isn't funny anymore!"
Alfred shook his head as if to say he couldn't and murmured something under his breath. His hand became limp in Arthur's grip and the blonde could only hold onto it tighter, pressing it against his face as his eyes began to become cloudy with sadness and grief.
"No. Alfred, no. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I don't hate you. I could never hate you. Please, please come back. I love you so much. Please..."
~o0o~
Arthur felt large tears roll down his face and splash onto the carpet underneath him. This was all his fault. Alfred was dead. He was gone. If only he hadn't said those things to the country when he did.
Arthur wished he could leave just like Alfred.
He wanted to leave and join the former country.
Alfred's laughter and happy nature floated around in his thoughts, taunting him. His goofy grin and shining blue eyes were forever imprinted in his head. Even the thoughts of the American as a child came to invade his unstable mind.
Gripping the side of his head the British man started to sob uncontrollably, heart wrenching wails tore from his throat.
He wished he could get rid of the memories.