Warning: this may make you cry.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own any characters or rights from Hetalia.
Title: The Story of the Sailor Boy
Point of view: England (Arthur Kirkland)
Prologue
The car rolls to a stop, and my youngest son gets out. I lie through my teeth when I say:
"I'll be back for you later."
No, instead I drive. I just drive away, and never looked.
Only I did look back. I saw him, Peter, waving his hand in a farewell fashion. He'd thought he'd see me again. He thought I'd come back. I never came back.
~Five years earlier~
"Dad! Wake up! Dad, Peter's crying! DAD!" my oldest son, Alfred, is shacking me hard, trying to wake me up after I've passed out from to much liquor.
"Alfred? What the bloody-" I feel myself being shoved upward before I can even speak. My head hurts. My heart hurts more. I'm alone.
"DAD!" bloody hell that boy is load, he screams in my ear. Back to reality I come.
Come on, Arthur. You can do it. Oh my head.
"Dad…" my middle born son, Mathew, hands me my youngest, Peter, "he won't stop crying, he wants you to notice him."
I lift the baby with a frown.
You're the reason she died! She was healthy and happy till you came into the world! I know I shouldn't think things, it's not the lad's fault. Is it?
I look at my oldest son, almost ten.
My wife and I had him at a young age, we had just gotten out of high school.
I look at my middle born, almost seven.
He was our magical child, my oldest wished for a baby brother for years, and finally got one.
I look at the thumb sucking baby in my lap.
What are you? A mistake? One I can't erased for as long as I live? Or a lesson for me to learn?
I push the child away, and pick up a bottle. I call over some babysitters, and head off to my room. Passing out at the sounds of sobs coming from… that child.
To be continued…
A/N- Sorry so short wanted people to get a feel before I wrote more.
