I don't own Hetalia, though that would be awesome
It all started on a warm summer day. The sun was bright and warm as it played across the fields of Yorkshire, beams leaping and gliding between grains of grass, wheat, and knobbly brown branches. Arthur Kirkland lay underneath a tall spruce, back leaning heavily on the hard wood as the shadows from leaves fanned out over his fair skin. Green eyes twitched in amusement as he watched a little blond head pop in out from behind rows of golden wheat.
"Alfred, don't get lost!" He called half heartedly knowing the little boy would hardly listen to him. Big blue eyes peeked out from behind already sun tanned fingers as he shaded his eyes to look at his temporary guardian.
"Engwand, you're not the boss," he complained. His voice was not deep nor was it high, it was at the strange stage where it wavered in between the two. Arthur rolled his eyes and swayed to his feet to retrieve the young boy before he got hurt.
"There are snakes in this grass you know." He slid to his knees holding out his arms to pick up the younger. Alfred fidgeted with his tunic and pouted folding his arms.
"I wanna play more." His voice lilted in that very endearing tone he knew got him what he wanted. His blue eyes gleamed as Arthur's softened.
"We can play at home."
"No." He refused him stubbornly, his hands on his hips obviously mimicking a stance that Arthur had used on him apparently one too many times. Wheat tickled his nose and the Briton sneezed lightly, this always seemed to send Alfred into fits of giggles. For some reason the small little boy found it hilarious whenever he found faults in the older of the two.
"Really, Alfred? It is quite dangerous here, and you've been playing for quite some time now..." He sighed uneasily, in truth Arthur had been bitten as a child by one of the many snake playing in the tall grass of these hills, and he was not eager to have the little boy he loved with all his heart have to experience such pain.
"Are you scared, Engwand?" He stuck his bottom lip out finger tapping his nose in a knowing gesture. Arthur couldn't find it in himself to lie to the little boy and he nodded, chartreuse eyes flickering with shame at having to admit that there was something he was scared of. England was a strong nation, strong and brave, and there was nothing in the world he was more scared of than being perceived as weak. He couldn't be weak, just the thought of it sent him into a nervous fit, his heart seizing up in what can only be described as absolute terror.
His smile faltered as he averted his gaze away from Alfred's lovely cornflower blue eyes. Those eyes had become his unlikely home.
Alfred was astute. Though young, he had known England long enough to tell when something was wrong. He took the few steps forward through the tall wheat and climbed onto his friends lap placing both of his small warm hands on England's cheeks forcing him to look at him.
"Don't be scared, Engwand." He smiled softly his eyes ringed by impossibly dark lashes, his lips twinging up in a way that brought the nervous tremors that had started in Arthur's fingers to an absolute stand-still. "I'll always be your hero."
Arthur's eyes sweetened and he pressed a kiss to the little boy's forehead. "Always."
He didn't know what had happened, but over the years Alfred grew distant. He pulled into himself, cutting Arthur, and everyone else out of his heart. England tried to blame it on his teenage years, but he knew it was something else. A craving for something new, something great, something to outshine what all other's had done before him.
Alfred had taken his statement to England seriously. All he wanted now was to be a hero. Be someone that people could turn to for help, be dependable, be strong, but most of all what he wanted was to be the one that England could lean on.
The other country was strong, but over years of living with him Alfred watched as that strength turned to more of a burden than a gift. Arthur was getting older, he was tired, he was scared, but not of his power, no, he was scared of being powerless. He was scared of being unable to defend himself, being unable to protect those he loved. Alfred would fix it. He would fix everything. Everything broken about England, every tear, every break, he would mend. He would mend him until Arthur could smile, and laugh, and his eyes would crinkle at the corners like they used to. Because there was nothing in this world that Alfred loved more than seeing Arthur happy.
Freedom. Freedom was gained but something else was lost. What Alfred had strived for, Arthur's recognition and love, disappeared behind big white curtains, as did Arthur. England deteriorated after that. He couldn't hold onto anything, it was like his fingers were made of glass and his body was frozen to watch as everything slipped between the cracks and shattered on the floor into a million shards never to be retrieved.
It was years later when finally they spoke again. The years of silence had grown into vines around England's heart and trapped it tight. Alfred could see this, and yet he was absolutely determined to cut those vines and claim it for his own, so he did.
It wasn't simple. It was quite difficult actually. England was set in his ways in a way that could only be described as 'stubborn as a mule.' It was ridiculous really how much effort it took to win over his trust, but Alfred did. He was a hero after all.
It was on a sunny day when Arthur started to feel it. He wasn't sure what it was, but as he was sitting under a tree in his back yard he remembered those days when Alfred was a kid, and decided to call him. The phone rang several times before the other nation picked up.
"Hello?" He asked languidly, he had been too lazy to check caller I.D. before answering.
"Hello." Arthur replied. Now that he was actually on the phone he had no clue what he wanted to say.
Alfred was surprised to hear the other's voice, "Artie? That you?"
"Well, obviously." He rolled his eyes, but couldn't help release the smile that ran full length across his lips. The crease that usually ran between his obscenely large eyebrows was gone as his face relaxed.
"It's been a while." Alfred said softly into the reciever. Arthur nodded forgetting for a moment that the other Nation couldn't see him. He quickly remembered and replied.
"Yes, quite a bit."
There was a pause, an awkward silence, for even though Alfred had won his trust, his heart was yet to be touched. "How've you been, Artie?" He sat carefully on his couch so as not to make a noise a he reclined, just happy to hear the Briton's voice again. He closed his eyes and waited for the response. His patience was rewarded with a small light chuckle, it was a warm sound that danced through his ears he had missed it more than he realized.
"I've been alright, thank you." Arthur smiled into the reciever curling against the warm bark of his tree. It was the happiest he'd been in quite a while. "How have you been?"
"You know, just normal I suppose." He laughed loudly. Arthur loved his laugh.
That was all there was. Playful banter back and forth as the sun drifted behind the horizon and Arthur was forced to say good bye.
There was nothing for weeks afterwards. Nothing at all. As the time passed with no meaning, England could feel himself wither away. It started with forgetting to eat. It was just one meal a day, and then it grew into two, until he was going days at a time without nutrients.
next came sleep. First it was eight hours, then seven, then six, until he barely slept two hours a day. Of course it went unnoticed, England didn't even realize it, and neither did anyone else.
He was alone. That became more and more apparent. Whereas before he would call Alfred at least three times a week, it stopped altogether. Their contact disappeared dwindling to nothing as did Arthur's will to continue to be on the earth. Someone else could take his place couldn't they? He could die. He could disappear, it wouldn't matter.
Then, there was nothing. No contact with anyone but himself, what was the point in bothering the other countries anyway? It would only make him feel worse. Who would want to speak to him? He was nothing now, nothing but a shell of what he had once been. What was the point anymore? There was none. There was nothing anymore, nothing but darkness, darkness and hate.
There was a time he would've talked to someone, would've called Japan, or France, but that time had slipped away, right through his grasp, just like everything else.
It was his time to fade away.
Alfred was not stupid. He had noticed something was up with England and instead of confronting the problem via text or phone call, he had decided to go to England and discuss it in person. He knew Arthur well enough that he knew if he just called the other country he would lie to him blatantly.
So, he talked to his boss, which had taken quite some time, and booked the next plane to England. He waited at the terminal impatiently to board his flight. It wasn't that he thought England couldn't take care of himself, heck he was a pirate once... It was just he was worried. He wanted England to come out of his shell and return to the land of the living, or so he called it.
The plane was stuffy and the little kid in front of him was playing a video game that hadn't even been released yet and it pissed him off to no end. I mean, how could that kid just sit there and play it like it was no big deal? It. Hadn't. Freaking. Been. Released. Yet. He agonized over this the whole plane ride, which was a very long time. How was the world so unfair now adays? Why did games not get released at the same time in every country? It was a stupid system, stupid and unfair.
He arrived in England with a pounding head ache and no sleep. Now, to find Arthur.
He was sick of everything. He just couldn't be here anymore. He didn't realize what he was doing until he had collected a cart full of knives and ropes. For some reason it didn't surprise him that that was what he had found. He piled them into his car and slid inside, his mind in a haze as he started the engine. He didn't know where he was going.
He drove for a long time before realizing where he had unconsciously headed. It was the field that he and Alfred had spent so much time in so many years previously.
The sky was dark, and there was no way it wouldn't rain. It was a fitting form of weather for the decision he had made. Thunder rolled through the sky illuminating the field. It was the same way he had left it, perfectly serene, quiet, and now it was dark. All the happy memories came flooding back and they only seemed to deepen his resolve. He could never be that happy again. It was all a lie. There was no such thing as happily ever afters, there was no such thing as forevers, or heroes, or love.
Alfred had lied.
He knelt in front of his old tree when he had finally reached it. The bark wasn't smooth as it had once been, there were blackened holes, and words had been carved brutally into its surface, he let his fingers trail down the bark feeling every scratch, every cut, every little mark. The tree was just like him, once great and followed by thousands of saplings.
The field was the same, except now it was dead.
He couldn't find him. There was no sign of the British Empire anywhere. He asked around until finally he understood. Arthur didn't want to be found.
That might have swayed some people, but not Alfred, not stubborn America. His mind kept wandering back to Yorkshire to where he had spent most of his childhood. It was England's favorite place. And then it clicked. That was where he was. Arthur was there, and he was doing God knows what, but Alfred doubted it was anything good.
It was in a frenzy that he hailed a cab and ordered them to take him. It was not too far from where Arthur had decided to house himself at the time, so it took him only about ten or so minutes to reach it. When he did, he hopped out of the cab and walked up the path way. His heart was thudding uncontrollably.
Arthur leaned against the tree his eyes closing. He had forgotten his knives, those could wait. Suddenly he heard a strange noise to his right. His eyes fluttered open to see a snake sliding up the roots of the tree and towards him. The adder's eyes flashed dangerously as it slid closer, beady eyes peering at Arthur without souls. He knew for a fact that the adder was poisonous and he closed his eyes as its head ducked down to lunge. Arthur was going to die, fade away just like he wanted to.
Suddenly there was a very large smacking sound and his eyes flashed open. The last person he ever thought he would see was standing in front of him, hand empty in the position as if he had just thrown something. Arthur turned his head to see a bloody pile of snake right by a very large rock. His jaw hung open and he turned in shock to the other. The rain had already started falling.
"I told you I would always be your hero!" Alfred yelled out of breath from having run all the way up the path after seeing the knives in the back seat of Arthur's car. "I will never EVER break that promise." He had never been this angry before as he grabbed Arthur up by his sleeve and roughly kissed him. England's eyes blinked rapidly in surprise and he held tightly to Alfred's jacket to keep himself from falling. "I love you, England, always have, always will." He held tightly to the other holding him close to his chest, unable to let him go. "You are the greatest thing in my world."
And suddenly all those words came crashing down on the Briton's head, and the unfeeling mask he had been wearing for so long crumbled to dust and he cried and cried, his face pressed to the other country's neck. And as Alfred held him close Arthur's worries seemed to melt.
Arthur had always lived knowing that if he wasn't the best he was nothing. He had thought that relying on others would only make him weak. Standing in the rain, his clothes drenched, fingers knotted into the jacket of the man, he now realized he loved, he finally realized that sometimes you can only be strong when you rely on others.
And so he did.