This is a story based on the song Whiskey Lullaby by Brad Paisley. I heard the song and thought it fit. I don't have a Beta reader so it's not as perfect as I would like it to be, so please review it and give me critique and your opinions. I do not own this song, or Hetalia. And God save us all if I did.
This is the story of how my two best friends loved and died. It is not a happy story, and it has no happy ending, only the sense of hope that follows despair. I will try not to over romanticize it, since it is no Romeo and Juliet. It simply the tale of two lost souls who loved one another more than they even dared to say. This is how Alfred F. Jones and Arthur Kirkland ended their lives. Together. This is their story, but since they cannot tell it themselves the burden is left to me.
"Get out of my flat!"
I could hear their screams through the thin walls. It was the second time they were fighting this week...
"Who calls it a flat anyways?! It's an apartment," that would be Alfred.
"I don't care what you call it. Just get out!" I heard a door slam. I knew I should do the neighborly thing and offer Alfred a place on my couch. Before I reached my final decision there was a knock on the door.
"Hello Alfred," I said opening the door.
"Oh Mattie!" he said in surprise. "How didjya know it would be me?"
"I heard you and Arthur fighting again," I said as he boldly made his way into my small apartment.
"Oh you did?" he said with chagrin pausing. "It's the fifth time this month. Do ya think Artie will take me back?" he sounded vulnerable. I had known Alfred for a very long time. He never had sounded so afraid.
I put on a smile. "Of course he will."
Alfred brightened up. "Yeah, of course, you're right."
A few weeks later, and it seemed Alfred was getting worse.
"What are your plans for tonight?" I asked as I made breakfast. It had been three weeks since Arthur and Alfred's big fight and the former was still ignoring the latter. Alfred had called the apartment they had shared about three times in front of me, and then twenty times when he thought I was out. Each time pleading Arthur to consider letting him move back in. It was in the second week when a box arrived on my doorstep. It said to Alfred, inside it contained all of Alfred's belongings from his apartment. It was after that little incident that he stopped calling. Permanently.
"I think Ivan and I are going out drinking tonight," Alfred said with a smile.
"What really?"
"Yeah got a problem with that?" Alfred asked sharply.
"Well no, but so soon? The last time you guys went out drinking you-"
"I know I know Mattie...we crashed into a telephone pole, but at least none of us were hurt-"
"But that was only a week ago," I protested.
"Would you like to come then? Be the designated driver?" Alfred sneered. He knew how much I hated the large Russian, but I couldn't let him put his life at risk again.
"Alright," I said bravely.
That night I joined Alfred and Ivan in a bar. Soon enough they were both very drunk.
"Bartender! I'll have another vodka on the rocks -hic- and get my friend here whatever he likes," Ivan said patting Alfred on the back.
"Whiskey. Straight," he said grimly. I looked at him with wide eyes. All my life he told me he hated whiskey, why would he be getting it- then I remembered. It was Arthur's favorite. He was getting it because it reminded him of Arthur. Had I known he was getting nostalgic I would have done things differently..oh maple..how the outcome might have changed if I had noticed~
Five more drinks later, both of them were very intoxicated, but Alfred was worse. I piled them into my car and set off for my apartment since it was closer. Alfred stumbled up the stairs walking straight for his old apartment but I led him to ours.
I settled him on the couch and as I turned to go he whimpered, "you said he would take me back."
I closed the door, but through the thin wood I could still hear discernible, heartrending sobs. And I knew they came from my best friend. I tore down the stairs, angry I had to drive home a drunk Russian and hoped I could return soon.
The drive to Ivan's neighborhood was intolerable he was whining on about some creepy stalker girl, and how there was this hot girl he wanted to be with instead. I tried to ignore him the best I could. I quite rudely left him at his apartment door.
I sped back towards my apartment, only to be caught. The police officer handed me a ticket and soon I was off again ignoring the speed limit.
I was too late.
I opened the door, the hall light casting awful shadows into the dark apartment. I reeled at the sight. "Maple," it came out so softly I, but it seemed to me the only thing to say. I turned swiftly on my heel to the door opposite mine.
"Come on," I muttered while banging on the door.
Finally the door opened a crack, and then a bit more. "Oh Matthew I thought you were Alfred...Mathew? What is it?" He must have noticed how pale I looked.
Silently I led him to the apartment and flicked on the lights. There was no way I could describe the horror, I had to let it speak for itself.
Before us was a gruesome scene. Lying with his face down on a pillow was Alfred, still in his hand was one of his old dueling pistols. I heard a cry from behind me. Arthur was no longer looking at Alfred, now he was looking at the wall. Scrawled in sharpie was a note. Simply it said "I'll love him till I die." Arthur ran from my side, and I was alone. Alone with death, it was palpable...and it scared me.
Three weeks later there was a funeral. His parents came into town...they picked a lovely spot in the cemetery. It was on a hill overlooking the rest of the place, beneath a magnificent willow. During the service Arthur clung to Alfred's signature bomber trying to muffle his sobs. It didn't work. Those sobs were so similar to the ones that were the last things I heard from Alfred. They were the same heartbreaking sobs. The sort you never want to hear again. When it came time for the speeches Arthur just stood up and walked away. I wanted to follow him, but I didn't. He looked like a ghost, someone who no longer walked on this earth, but someone who was still trapped here. I wish I could of freed him.
I had just moved into a new apartment before I ran into Arthur again. I suppose that made it about a month later that I saw him on a date. He didn't seem very into it. He was staring listless into space as his companion spoke. He excused himself politely and ran off into the storm leaving a rather baffled companion in his wake.
The next time I saw him was while I was getting my mail, two weeks later.
"Oh hi Arthur," I said.
"Huh? Oh hello Matthew," he sounded tired. Then he coughed, the kind of cough that wracks the whole body. From his breath I smelled whiskey.
"Have you been drinking?" I was surprised. I had heard he had given up spirits when he learned the events of Alfred's final day. But then again I had been hearing a lot of things lately.
"It's none of your business Matthew," he brushed past me, the smell of alcohol increased.
As I passed by my old apartment I heard a noise I never wanted to hear again. Sobbing. It was coming from the apartment across the hall. From inside the apartment I heard the Englishman crying "it's my fault he's dead. It's all my fault..if only I hadn't kicked him out..or if I had returned one, just one of his phone calls...then that stupid git would still be alive. He'd be with me." The sobbing was too much for me and as I tried to open the door I heard another sound that I will never want to hear again. A gunshot.
I rattled the door to no end, it was locked. I had to go to the superintendent to get a key, and by then I knew there was no saving him. When I opened the door the sight was a lot worse than the last one. The kitchen was a mess, almost every surface was covered with empty whiskey bottles. And in the backroom I found Arthur sprawled out. Pictures, and all of Alfred's things were strewn around him. In one hand was a picture of Alfred. In the other was a little black box. It was open, and inside was a beautiful diamond ring. It must have cost Alfred a whole month's salary, and it did explain why he borrowed fifty dollars from me...I guessed it was the first time Arthur had found it..and lying beside him was the same dueling pistol that took Alfred's life.
He was buried next to Alfred, under that great majestic willow..and somehow I hoped they would find each other in whatever life is beyond this one...I visit the spot every week.
And that is the story about how the two people I cared about the most died.
~While the Angels sang a whiskey lullaby~