A/N: This one-shot is dedicated to kazoe because she is my first 100th reviewer. She wanted a USxUK story about Arthur's past, so I came up with this one. Sorry this takes so long, honey! Am feeling very bad for making you wait so long… :( I hope you'll be happy with this one! :-)

Summary: England has never thought of loving another person but America. For kazoe. USxUK

Remnants

"I love you, Lord Kirkland."

Never before had it crossed his mind, until one day it appeared all of the sudden. Until it occurred right before his eyes. That a human woman told him she loved him. To tell he was surprised, that was an understatement. He was shocked. He had lifted up his previously lowered chin to see the the face beautiful young woman who had told him those three words. A beautiful blush had crept her pale, slightly freckled face framed by wavy brown hair that went down to her waist.

And yet she had looked at him straight in the eyes with those clear chestnut-colored gems. She had been kneeling before him with her white long skirt wrinkled in her folded thighs, looking up to him. And he had been sitting then, staring down at her with widened green eyes. He had thought maybe he had heard wrong, but it was impossible, since the distance was too close to mishear her words. He suddenly found himself at loss of words. And he held his breath.

Love?

And an image of a boy who possessed a pair of absolutely brilliant eyes, with the most beautiful color of blue he had ever seen, flashed before his eyes. He was suddenly reminded of his adorable, puffy and chubby cheeks, with a small body impossible not to be adored by anyone. His bright, but shy smiles. His sad, crying face. His childish antics and whims. The way he spoke the Queen's English he taught him stutteringly. The way he ran in child-like vigor and cheerfulness. And the way he was able to make Arthur feel like the happiest person on earth with even the simplest things.

The way he made Arthur love him.

Even though he-

Arthur suddenly thought if only those eyes he saw in front of him were pristine blue, like a clear summer sky, instead the brown of soil, it would have been better. If only those beautiful wave of hazel was straighter, and in the color of slightly dusty golden. If only her skin wasn't so pale, but sun-kissed from constantly wandering under the wilderness sun. If only her soft features would slightly sharpen and more masculine, her nose straighter, her eyes slightly smaller, her cheeks slimmer, her chin more square-shaped, her shoulders broader, her chest smaller, her body less voluptuous, her-

If only she was him.

Arthur finally realized the one before him was not that child. No. She was a human. A young woman whom he hired as a housekeeper a few years ago, the one he hired because he had to leave home often because he could not bare to leave that child alone. The one whom he brought along with him to the New World to work in his new house he built for that child. The one who had been by his side as he had his breakfast, his lunch, and his dinner.

The one who would greet him with a beautiful, welcoming smile as the two came home. The one who had been by his side all the time, the one whom he had been through many hardships with, since the day he lost that child. The one who patiently put up with his sudden outbursts, as he nearly destroyed the entire house several of times, from the sadness and the loneliness and the feeling of loss he felt burdening his heart far too much. She was the one who, in motherly manner, calmed him down and stayed by his side as he broke into tears, weeping furiously. She was kind and gentle.

She was not him.

She was not the child whom he had raised with love, with all of his affection, all that he had. The one he had been more than proud of to call his little brother, as that child grew into a strong, splendid nation. The one he had tried to protect from the cruelty of the world with all of his might, but in turn, that child thought he had been confined instead of protected and turned back against him in the end. She was not the child who had thrown him in despair and sorrow, she was not him. She was a human. An ordinary woman. One of his beloved people. But… why had he still hoped the one before him was Alfred?

Arthur opened his mouth. Then closed it. But then he opened it again.

"I'm sorry."

He did not know why he had arrived in such a place after that, nor did he remember when.

How many years had it been since he left? Two, or three? He couldn't remember. It had felt like an eternity with Arthur had refused to leave his house, locked himself up within his private estate in the heart of the raining city of London. All those times he had hated his own country's awful climate. The sound and the damp smell of the rain hitting the dry soil reminded him too much of the day he lost that important person. That day had been raining too.

And every time it rained, he would go into rage, hurling any furniture nearby towards the wall and breaking it to pieces. He would hate the rain so much he started yelling at it, blaming at the ever dense, seemingly endless rain that never ceased to pour down every single day. He was depressed and refused to meet anyone. Only Her Majesty could reach his ears, but she had understood him, and let him be alone in the mean time to gather himself up, as he had requested.

So, what was he doing here?

He had taken the long journey by ship, without having told anyone not even the Queen, and now the old house he used to live in with his former colony years ago was just around twenty feet away from him, but he just stood there with the prickly grass nudging at his shoes, unmoving. The light of the house was still lit, shown by the unbound windows. He could hear faint laughter came from the inside of the house, and silhouettes of several people from the closed casements. But Arthur did nothing but watch.

The sky was dark. It was night. He looked up and saw the countless stars he used to see with Alfred as they sat on the green spot he was standing on now, twinkling in the most adorable little gleams. Alfred had always been a very curious child, asking him numerous questions about stars and the sky. And Arthur had always more than glad to answer his childish questions. And the little boy would nod and stared up at the countless gleams with big, curious and mesmerized blue eyes.

A chilly breeze brushed against his cheeks and blew his blonde hair gently. Arthur lowered his chin and closed his eyes, fists clenched on his sides.

…what was he hoping for? For things to go back to the way it used to? Ridiculous. There was no such sweet cliche, where he would rush into Alfred's house and the young man would welcome him with that usual care free smile as if nothing had happened between them. He knew he was no longer wanted. He was nothing but a burden to the younger nation. He was unwanted. That little boy had grown up to be a strong, 'independent' young man who no longer needed him to continue on growing. He would become stronger without his help. He might even become stronger than Arthur was. That, Arthur knew very well was true.

Then Arthur turned on his back, and started walking away.

Maybe, when that boy had become a strong, mature nation, they would cross paths again. As equal nations.

But maybe that was just another wishful thinking.

Alfred stared at the empty green field as his hand held onto the iron knob of the door, with his body turning half-way around.

"Huh? What's wrong, Al?" Another man emerged behind him, from within the house, holding up a mug of beer in his hand.

America glanced over his shoulder, but then turned his gaze towards the empty field again, staring absently. "…nothing. I thought someone was outside." The young nation uttered, looking up at the clear dark sky graced in many gleaming stars. The human man stuck his head out next to the nation, searchingxs around.

"No one's there though." He said, withdrawing his head. "Maybe you've heard wrong?"

"…maybe I did." Alfred nodded, glancing at the man.

"Come on, Al, there's plenty of food left. Mary's a hell of a cook, she is. She's been dying for you to taste her new recipes. You don't seem hungry though, have you eaten before dinner?" He asked.

"Umm, no I haven't. In fact, I'm really hungry right now." The young nation forced a laugh. "But Mary's cooking… I'm still not used to it."

"Oh? You got some kind of problem with her food?"

"Well, her cooking's too delicious, I think." Alfred scratched his nose.

"What! That's a very odd reason, Alfred! What's wrong with her cooking being too good? Do you like nasty food or something?" The man laughed out loud, patting Alfred's back a bit too hard.

The blonde rubbed his aching back slightly. He laughed sheepishly. "Haha… that is strange."

How long had it been? Arthur had moved on with his life and went back to his duty as a nation personification. Working on paperworks, improving his country's facilities, meeting with his superiors, having tea with the Queen, attending the upper class parties, participating in wars, helping his allies, it was an endless repetition of that. Early in the morning he would wake up, had breakfast, and went to work. From morning to afternoon he spent it by working on war reconstruction. All the way until midnight.

He was drowned into his responsibilities that he sometimes even forgot to go home, when he did however, it was always very late he would drop asleep the moment he lied on the bed, still wearing his formal outfit. It was nice, that he didn't have to remember bad things and just be sunk into an ocean of activities.

But he felt as if he had forgotten something. Years passed. New inventions were discovered, lifestyle and fashion changed, but Arthur still remained the same as well as the ever-raining city of London. It was all the same for him, who had lived for hundred of years. But nations did not forget their history. He could still remember it clearly every time he closed his eyes, they always appeared within the darkness, vivid and strong-rooted, they appeared much more frequent in the dreams as he slept. Still, why did he feel like he was forgetting something?

But Arthur always shrugged it off, he had better things to do. Work. Yes, work. He was a dutiful nation. He had endless work to do. He had to think of his people, other things came in as secondary. He would not think of that, because he had to do other things. Things that distracted him, from his nature of never forgetting the things done wrong in the past. He had to live in the present, live for the future, wasn't it what humans always said?

Until one day Arthur met her again.

He was taking a walk along the busy morning street of London, when an unknown old woman greeted him. As a polite nation, Arthur of course returned the gesture. But since he couldn't recognize her, he had asked whether they had met before. The old woman only laughed, and told him she used to work for him many years ago in the past, as a housekeeper. And that Arthur had once brought her to work as his housekeeper in his house at the New Land.

Arthur was terribly surprised, widening his eyes in disbelief as his gaze going from her now grey hair to the wrinkled skin of her feet hidden beneath her shoes.

She was almost unrecognizable, if not for those honest brown eyes and gentle smile he still remembered. She was no longer the beautiful woman she used to be. Her pale, youthful and healthy skin now laced in wrinkles, still pale but with many ugly dark spots covered her previously unblemished skin. Her flowing, beautiful long curly hair turned from shining golden brown to dried up grey, tied up in a bun at the back of her head. Her plum lips had became wrinkled and thin, slightly pale. Although that kind, gentle smile always gracefully adorned her friendly face. But she was nothing like her, the young woman who had once told him she loved him. The one who had filled a small part of his memory.

As the both of them sat on a bench in the park, she told him she was on her way to visit her eldest son and his family. They were celebrating for her granddaughter's birthday. Arthur only listened in silence, as she told him that she was married to a wonderful man and husband who had been accompanying her by her side for almost fifty years, until he died before her last year. She had five children. Three were boys while two were girls. And all of them were now married and had families of their own. She told him she was very, very happy. She now lived with her eldest, with his kind wife and wonderful grandchildren.

Arthur responded with a nod and a smile every once in a while as the old woman told her story. He noticed she glowed the exact same way she did many years ago as she spoke in delight, telling him that her youngest was expecting her first child. She was excited as she was when she expected her first grandchild. She wondered whether it would be a boy or a girl. Arthur smiled and asked which one she wanted, but she only smiled kindly and said she only wished her grandchild would be born healthy.

They talked for a while more, before they parted ways.

Arthur lifted up his hat a bit as the old woman nodded to him, before walking away to meet with her family. Arthur stood there, staring at her fragile back. Many thoughts crossed his mind then. Nations did not grow old. They lived on for hundred of years to thousands. Their lifespans differed with that of humans'. Humans lived a short life. Only sixty years or so. But they… always seemed so fulfilled. So fulfilled with their short lives. So happy. So contented. They could have families, people who stayed by their sides until the day they died. People who loved them unconditionally. People who wouldn't die before they did. People who gave them so, so many things that they, despite their short lifespans, could go with ease. They were happy. They were satisfied.

While he-

What was he doing?

He could spot the royal steward from the corner of his eyes, looking for him. He could hear him calling his name with a tone of question ended the sentence. But he instead turned away and started to run. He ran and ran, passing by the odd faces those people whom he passed by gave him. He didn't know how he looked like as he dashed across the streets, right in front of a horse carriage and put a sudden, surprised halt to the fine horses as he crossed.

He ignored them. He didn't care. He didn't even know why he rushed and acted like a madman. He had an important appointment with the Queen, but it mattered so little to him right now. There was only one thing in his mind that rendered his actions. He felt a dire need to fulfill it. Like an instinct. He didn't know what cause such feeling. All he knew was…

Was…

That he had forgotten something important.

And when he came to his senses, he was standing before the very same house he left fifty years ago, on the exact same spot he was the last time he was there.

It was pouring down. His whole body was wet to the bone. He cringed as the very familiar scent of the land's dampened soil reached his ears, and the noise of the rain resurrected the awful memories he had locked deep at the back of his mind. He could not hear any other noise but the rain and the muffled voices of people who were caught within the downpour. He could smell nothing but the damp soil, the wet leaves, and the woods. And the house, although already old and slightly shady with mosses and vines growing all over the walls, still stood firmly on the ground. The windows were lit with dim lights. But he didn't see any silhouette of people inside the lone house.

Nighttime. Exactly like the night he had come there, but did nothing but stare. But roughly fifty years had passed. It might have been someone else that occupied the house, since it had been so long and it was so old and looked like it would break down at any moment. But to him, it was not an old house. It was a house of memories. Filled with memories of him spending a part of his life with a most important person. Age could not rot away those memories.

Arthur looked up and saw no stars adorned the darkened sky. Dark clouds had hid them away from him to see. The stars he had seen with that boy. With Alfred. The stars they watched in the days when they were true brothers. How could he forget? The places might differ. They might live far away from each other. But those stars always stayed in the vast night sky wherever they were. He could see them clearly on the nights when it wasn't raining. He was far too preoccupied with work to even remember to stop occasionally and look up at them.

He lowered his gaze to the house again.

That night he wasn't brave enough to embrace the truth that the boy was no longer his. He was hurt and lonely. And he was afraid he'd be rejected again the second time. But this time was different. If he did not do this, then it would all be for nothing. Arthur had gathered the will to force his legs to take a step forward, and another, and another. Until he found himself stood before the entrance door of the house, knocking at the door three times.

The door slowly creaked opened a short moment later, revealing a blonde young man whose azure-colored eyes widened at the moment he laid them upon Arthur's soaked form. Shock overcame his expression, jaws dropping slightly. He clearly didn't expect this at all. He might be surprised at how messy his appearance was, so unlike his usual tidy and trim image, or he just might have not expect him to show up all of a sudden. He didn't know which, it might be both, but Arthur didn't care.

He saw his mouth gaped, closing and opening but saying no proper words. Instead, Arthur spoke first. "I want to talk."

Alfred had looked taken, but Arthur wasn't about to take no for an answer. The younger man seemed to notice that as well, as he silently scooted to the left to give Arthur some space to enter the house. In which the older man, wordlessly did so, neither of them exchanged further words.

Arthur sat on an obviously newer couch he had never seen before, a towel was framing his soaked hair, water still dripping from the wet blonde tresses. The owner of the house seemed reluctant, confused, and kept averting his eyes as he sat on an identical couch across of Arthur's. In front of him, a mug of warm milk was placed on a wooden table. But Arthur made no attempt of drinking the source of warmth, letting his body shiver in the coldness of rain instead.

Silence.

Neither of them spoke a word.

The younger nation looked uncomfortable with the situation, failingly kept a composed facade as he decided to distract himself with drinking the warm milk from his mug. Arthur stared down at the sight of the white-colored mug, it was clearly different from the white mug he used to always drink from when he was still living there. Maybe Alfred had thrown it away. Everything within the room but the house itself seemed so foreign to him, unfamiliar. It was like screaming more than the obvious. Arthur clenched his jaws. Why did he felt so hurt by such simple things?

He forced himself to speak. "You look healthy."

Alfred flinched at the sudden opening, he paused before he replied. "Yeah." He promptly uttered.

Reluctant blue eyes glanced up to meet hollow green, curiosity flashed within them as he spoke out again, in a demanding, slightly commanding tone of voice. "Why are you here?"

The question was to be expected. Arthur knew he wasn't wanted. His heart clenched painfully inside when he wore a mask of indifference on the outside. He glanced at the mug, slightly to the brand new couch he sat on, then all to the unfamiliar furniture and wallpapers and the floorboards. He had wondered why Alfred hadn't abandoned the house too. Maybe he intended to move out as soon as the house broke down. Maybe he would give it up to other people, he didn't know.

"Because I want to see you." He uttered straightforwardly, but without looking at the younger man. He knew those brilliant blue gems widened at his statement. But what could he say? He was telling the truth. It was no use to lie. Not at that moment. He lowered his gaze again, feeling the cold biting his skin, but he too, ignored it. "But that's not the only reason."

He closed his eyes.

"…when I was younger, I was raised by my brothers." He told him. "They taught me everything from their language to the ways to survive. They taught me how to fight, how to find food by myself, they even taught me the principles of life. Everything. But they never raised me the same way I raised you." He opened his eyes and looked at Alfred.

" 'Never love.' They told me over and over again. 'Love is for the weak. If you love, you'd be betrayed. We're not humans, we're nations. We can't hope for what humans can have.' they said. That was why they never go easy on me. Always the violence. Always the beating. Always the rough treatment. Never gentle. They even tried to kill me more times than I could count. They were serious, in each of the things they said to me."

" 'Never love' so they didn't love me. They never did. 'We are nations. Deceit is our nature, violence is our way of gaining power. Only be kind to those who can give you advantages, but once you use it all up, abandon them. That's what we do. Love is meant only for our people, not for fellow nations. Love yourself. Love your people. Never love others.' That's what they taught me, since I was a child. " He let a bitter smile overcame his face as he watched the changes on the American's face.

"That was why I was great. I deceived many, I used violence to conquer. I built an empire more powerful than any other. I took, I pilfered, I stole, I tortured, I killed. Their teachings had been right. I never loved anyone else but my people and myself. It had always been that way, that was why I felt nothing as I took everything from them. Everything. I felt nothing. Not even a speck of guilt." His voice became softer. "Until I met you."

He smiled thinly. Alfred was dumbfounded.

"Meeting you changed my whole life." He lowered his gaze to the white mug he didn't recognize. Even though it was also white in color, why had it been so different to him?

"For the first time in my entire life, I loved another. It was such a strange feeling. It was strange and unfamiliar to me, but I didn't mind, because it felt so nice. I felt so happy. You were the best thing I have ever received in my life. No amount of treasure or even the entire world could replace you. I loved you, with all my might. For that moment I forgot who I was, I forgot I was a nation, I forgot how I was raised. I forgot all they had said to me, all the things they taught me. For that moment I felt like I was an ordinary human."

He paused and breathed in.

Alfred said nothing.

"I wanted to pour all of my affection onto you. I wanted you to be happy, as happy as you could've been. I wanted you to be the happiest child in the universe. I would give the whole world if it could make you happy. I wanted to raise you to be a splendid nation. I wanted to protect you from any kind of harm. I wanted to shield you from the cruel world I knew all too well. You might think my love restrained you, but I loved you, Alfred. I loved you very, very much. And my feelings hasn't changed to this day. I still love you dearly. And it will never change. I wish you have a happy life, although I am not a part of it."

He was reminded of the old woman he met that day, and the day she told him she loved him many years ago when she was still young and beautiful. Arthur had not believed her then. But he understood now. He had realized his own feelings after he met her again in a much older, fragile form. She seemed so happy. So contented. He had felt jealous of her. She was able to live out her life fully, perhaps having told her feelings made her that way.

Unlike Arthur, who didn't even understand his own feelings until recently. He was a nation. He lived far longer than humans. But it didn't mean nations could not die. Many nations died after they lived out their golden age, and he too, someday, at a certain point, he would die as did those nations. Arthur knew that his triumphant era had declined significantly. He had lost more wars than he did in the past. At this rate, he could die sooner than he expected. He might even die tomorrow, if his people decided to raise a revolution.

Arthur bit down his lower lip and clenched his fists. He had to tell his heart out. He didn't want to regret a thing. Now that he had told his feelings, he had taken off some weigh from his shoulders.

He stood up, the towel slipped and fell to the couch. "…I've told you what I wanted to say. I will leave now. I apologize for barging in so suddenly." He bowed slightly, before turning his body towards the door to leave, despite it was still pouring down heavily. He didn't care, he had spoken the things he wanted to tell. Now he had to return back to being a 'nation'.

He could hear Alfred stood up telling him to wait, breaking something in process. He didn't know what had shattered down the floorboard as he had lunged into the dense walls of rain, walking away. He could hear Alfred's voice fell faint in his ears, the rain muffled any coherent word. Arthur could not stand being inside such familiar, yet such a stranger of a house to him. The one filled with memories. But no longer friendly to him. He was unwanted. An unwanted guest to the owner, an unwanted memory to that house.

So he would just move on.

"Arthur!"

Arthur suddenly felt a forceful grip to his arm, forcing him to stop and turn around. Virescent eyes widened when he saw the soaked form of the young nation, blue eyes sharpened as he looked at him, water poured down onto him so densely and loudly. Why was he here? He looked down and saw Alfred was gripping his right arm tightly, drops of water dripped down the tan fingers. Arthur lifted up his gaze to meet with blue eyes.

"Are you fucking mad? It's pouring down! You can't go out like that when it's still raining so hard!" He spat out, rain entered his opened mouth but he didn't seem to care.

Arthur didn't reply.

Alfred made a face Arthur couldn't read. "…come on. Let's go in."

Then he found himself standing on the brand new floorboard, as he caught the towel that was tossed by Alfred, who was also drying himself with another white one. Arthur had no idea why he was within the house a second time. If not for the boy who dragged him back in without his consent, he would've strayed off somewhere else since he was sure the port was closed for the night. But he was sure he could use his power to rouse the old captain to sail him back home. They were acquaintances.

He glanced at Alfred unsurely, drops of water pooled around his soaked shoes. The young American stared back, looking annoyed. "What are you looking so confused for? Dry yourself before you catch a cold." He said, he had taken off his wet shirt, now half-bare.

But Arthur didn't do anything, feeling the uncertainty and shock still affected his logic. He still didn't understand. Why was he there? Wasn't he unwanted?

Alfred shot him impatient gaze, then he released his grip at the towel around his neck and strode towards the older man. Arthur had to look up to see his face, noticing how tall and big the younger nation had become. Even taller and bigger than him. A strong nation. "Geez, must I really do it for you, old man? You're such a handful." He complained but smiled as he took the towel from Arthur's hands, resumed rubbing the soft absorbent cloth to his soaked blonde hair.

When he saw that smile, Arthur was dumbfounded. "Why…" He uttered softly. He couldn't help but to ask. "Why are you doing this?"

Alfred paused, glancing at Arthur. "Why? …do I need some reason?"

"B-but I… you… we're no longer…" Arthur bit his lower lip. 'We're no longer brothers' why couldn't he utter such simple sentence? He screwed his eyes shut. "I don't understand."

"Yeah. We're not brothers anymore. But you're a guest. Why else?" The American bluntly said, resuming drying Arthur's hair. He looked unfazed.

"But I'm not wanted."

"Who said you are? I never said that. I only wanted to be independent. I never said I don't want you to be anywhere near me."

Arthur paused, glancing up at the young nation.

"…stop it." He uttered shakily. Stop it. Alfred had to stop treating him so kindly. Arthur suddenly felt terrified. He didn't want to get his hopes high. He didn't want to think Alfred might have the same feelings as him. It would crush him all over again if he were to be rejected twice. He had enough. He was scared. "Please. Stop it." He brought his hands up to push the younger man.

Alfred was taken by surprise, staggering back while eyes locking at the pathetic form of the British man. Arthur hung his head, damp blonde tresses hid his face. That was good. He didn't want Alfred to see how pathetic he looked right now. All scared and terrified. He had only wanted to come and tell Alfred his true feelings, then he would go back to the motherland, acting as if nothing happened and moving on with life. That had been the plan. But this ruined it all. He didn't expect this. He didn't expect Alfred would welcome him. He didn't expect the kindness. He hadn't expect this at all.

No.

He felt his vision blurred as hot liquid welled up in his eyes as he shut them tightly. He staggered back, hitting the wall behind him. The wall covered by the foreign wallpapers. Yes. Had it been a more than obvious proof? There wasn't a single thing he recognized within the house. Alfred must have thrown them all out. Every single one of them. He had thrown out Arthur. He was only being polite, as what mannerism he had taught the boy himself, in how to accept and treat guests. He was a nation. An older nation. Alfred being the younger one only respected him as a stronger nation. He was a guest, nothing else.

But he couldn't take it. The kindness. The cold politeness. It did the strangest to his heart. It made him tremble in horror. It caused tears pouring down his cheeks. It brought his shoulders trembling, not of the cold, but the fright he felt gnawing at the insides of his chest. He didn't want him to treat Arthur like a stranger. He didn't want Alfred to be kind to him. Because he would want more. He would want more and more, and so much more. But knew he shouldn't and couldn't.

"Arthur?"

Stop calling my name. Arthur wanted to scream, but he found it stuck in his throat. He wrapped his arms around himself, staring down onto the floorboard and the small pool of water around his feet. He could feel the tears overflowed, seeping out of the tight gaps of his eyelids he had tried so hard to clench down. But to no avail, they poured down freely, down his icy cold cheeks to his chin.

He could hear a soft gasp. But he couldn't see anything as he was closing his eyes so tightly shut. He didn't dare to look at Alfred, that he had seen such pitiful Arthur. When he heard footsteps, however, his eyes snapped open. Alfred was already standing in front of him, grabbing his arm. He looked worried yet serious. His expression hardened.

"Why are you crying?" He firmly asked, in a tone of voice Arthur had never heard him use before.

Arthur was both confused and a bit scared.

"Didn't you just say you love me as your younger brother? If so, why are you crying? Isn't this what you want? A gentle treatment from a brother?" Alfred's grip tightened. Arthur winced slightly.

Arthur lowered his head. "I-"

"Can't you see that's what I'm trying to do? Just… just being a brother, no more and no less. Always. Always just a brother to you." Arthur was surprised when he saw the pain written on the younger nation's face. His mind and body froze when Alfred leaned forward, closing the gap between their faces. His eyes widened when he placed his lips over Arthur's, slowly, softly. An innocent kiss that lasted only a few seconds, before he withdrew.

Arthur gasped when a drop of tear made a thin trail down Alfred's cheek.

"Why can't you see how miserable I have been?" He uttered. His voice rasp and hoarse. Arthur could clearly see he was trying to hide his face beneath a big hand, shoulders trembled visibly. "I don't know when I started to see you as… as more than a brother. I don't know why. I don't know how I've become so pathetic like this. I'm scared. I'm terrified you'd hate me after I gained independence. After I betrayed you. I'm scared to see you. I don't want you to see me with hate in your eyes. That's why I chickened out and didn't dare to go and meet you again. I'm so pathetic." He gave out a faint, ironic laugh.

A drop of tear dripped from his chin onto the floor. Alfred choked out a sob.

Arthur was dumbfounded.

"Wh-what…?" He uttered in disbelief. "B-but… you… I thought you hated me…."

"Hate? Ha! I could never hate you even if I tried to. I… love you too much." Alfred gave him a smile. Arthur hated that smile. He was smiling, and yet it was such a sorrowful smile. It didn't suit him at all. "Isn't it disgusting? For me to have those kinds of feelings towards the person whom I thought as an older brother. You must be disgusted. Even I'm disgusted of myself." Alfred laughed humorlessly, blue eyes turned hollow.

"That's not true…" Arthur said softly, shaking his head a little.

"You know it's true, Arthur. Don't lie to me, I'm not a kid anymore. I can take it. If you turn to hate me then-" He suddenly fell silent, averting his eyes. "-then I don't mind."

"I don't hate you!" Arthur exclaimed aloud, voice hoarse. He could still feel small amount of tears welled up and fell from his eyes.

Alfred glanced at him, wide-eyed. "Please, don't." He stuttered. "Don't say that when you don't mean it. Don't get my hopes up, Arthur. Don't be kind to me like you used to be when you know how I feel for you, when you know I want more. You don't know anything! You don't know what horrible things I've done to you in my mind, countless of times!" Alfred sunk his face within his palms, his shoulders shook violently.

That was when Arthur realized the truth.

Alfred had felt the same.

And he might have suffered longer than Arthur was. He had no idea. He hadn't known Alfred's feelings before. He was clueless. He had made this boy suffer even without him knowing, and while he himself was trying to forget about Alfred and the times they spent together. He was awful. He was cruel. He felt more hot tears dripped down his cold cheeks as he saw the broken-hearted form of the American, weeping soundlessly while hiding his face. He felt his own heart being torn apart.

He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around the taller boy. He kissed the hands that hid his face, and Alfred slowly revealed a pair of reddened blue eyes, filled with tears. His face tear-soaked. Arthur smiled. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't realize it before. I love you, Alfred. But not as a brother. Now I love you as a lover." Suddenly, light returned to those blue eyes. Arthur smiled as he stood on his toes and kissed Alfred's lips.

Then he withdrew. "I love you, Alfred."

Happiness overcame his whole being as Alfred took Arthur into his arms, embracing him tightly. "Arthur! Arthur, Arthur, Arthur!" He spoke out his name over and over again in a childish joy. A big happy grin had replaced the frown, the tears had stopped although his eyes had became swollen and puffy. He leaned down to lay butterfly kisses on Arthur's forehead, his eyelids, his cheeks, his nose, his chin, then finally, his lips.

"I love you! I love you, Arthur! I love you. I love you." He whispered to his ears, repeating the three words again and again as much as he pleased.

Arthur felt an odd sensation overcame him. He was still cold from the rain but he felt so warm. He felt so happy. So happy that he might die from it. He was happy but his chest clenched in painfully. He had wondered if true happiness felt this way.

He closed his eyes and saw the young woman who told him she loved him many years ago. He felt if he hadn't met her again, he would've gone on living his empty life without ever telling Alfred how he truly felt. He thanked her, the woman who had filled a small part of his heart. For making him realize he had wasted too much time, and made him realize his own feelings. The woman he knew he would never forget no matter how many centuries passed.

Thank you. He wordlessly said, as he wrapped his arms around his most beloved person. He wanted to say those words he wasn't able to say back then, the proper answer he should've told her long ago.

Thank you for having told me you loved me.

Fin

A/N: At first I was a bit confused on what plot I should apply to this one-shot. Arthur is a good man, he should've had a girl or two confessed to him in the past! …is what I thought. I hope you like this, kazoe! It has been a pleasure, writing this one. :-) Reviews are love. Especially if you're about to put this one-shot into your fave stories list, I would really love to know what you think about this. :-)