In the years he has lived as a fearless nation, Arthur has never expected to find himself in a hospital room, holding his dear child's hand as if it was the last thing on Earth to hold on to.
Of course, it isn't everyday you see a man, who has conquered the world and who has sailed the seven seas, sit on a plastic chair, holding his son's unmoving hand as the disturbing heart monitor does its "catchy" beat for the past thirty minutes. It isn't everyday you see a man, who is looked up by many, looking down on the injured and the weak one, and feel nothing but worry for the one who has torn and taken part of his humanity. Rather, it's quite rare, so to speak, for someone, who has everything that can make a man's day, look pensive and distressed as he watched the boy's slow but steady breathing while holding his still hand.
His emerald eyes then glanced from the boy's unconscious body to the wall clock that made an irritating sound every second wasted for that day.
3:30 PM
Normally, he would be having his afternoon tea in his garden while sorting out his paperwork that is to be presented to his boss the following week, or do his usual embroidery to soothe the stress from his mind; maybe even inviting a friend over for afternoon tea while discussing their day is a great way to spend his 3:30 PM right now. But no. He didn't consider doing those things on that day. And in fact, he hadn't done those things for three days. Three days without having to do his paperwork. Three days without having to do his paperwork. Three days without his lovely embroidery. Bitterness and sorrow only replaced the lovely things he could do at 3:30 PM.
To begin with, he didn't even know why his poor son would cut his own wrists.
'That bloody arse,' he thought as his eyes shifted back to the stable body of his dear child while gripping his hand as if it were his mission in life. 'I didn't raise him to cut his own wrists. He could have at least told us something if he was bothered. I rather listen to all his bloody problems than let himself suffer like this.'
Another hour had passed, and he was still unconscious.
Sometimes, Arthur would ponder if some little dream made his son enjoy his slumber.
'Maybe,' he thought. 'He's dreaming about a forest full of candy and chocolate with cupcake flowers and gummy bears.' He smiled at the thought of the lad and his broad smile upon wandering the forest he had always told to the older of the two during his early days a colony.
'Or maybe,' he frowned. 'He's dreaming about those bloody horror movies I told him NOT to watch, and he's desperate in finding a way out now. Poor lad, he must be scared…' And that thought was enough to send shivers down his spine.
On that hour, there was no sign of consciousness coming from the lad yet. But the fact that the monotonous beat of his heart, produced by that heart monitor, still produced the same rhythm it produced an hour ago gave Arthur hope that for as long as the beat stayed the same, his child will live.
Yet another hour passed and the boy still hasn't arose from his slumber.
By that time, the sun was starting to set while letting the warm rays of the sun present its magnificent colors into the sky, May people were starting to return to their own homes in order to spend some quality time with their loved ones, and their friends after another busy day. But while many wore their usual bright smiles, Arthur watched the sun settle into the horizon with a solemn look, still gripping the boy's hand without much hope of him waking up today.
By 6:30 PM, he finally spoke for what seemed like forever.
"Alfred…"
His eyes were now focused on the serene face of his child, one hand still grasping the hand while the other traced the cuts he had carved on his body in order to suffer for whatever reason he had. Regardless of the sound of the heart monitor or the ticking of the wall clock, he could only hear the calm atmosphere between the two, something that made Arthur smile. He then continued.
"…can you hear me?"
His body remained as peaceful as the calm wind outside, a rare sight to see, actually. But he still continued.
"It's okay if you don't,"
There was a pregnant pause as the memories of his dear, sweet child came back like a bullet going through someone's heart.
A tear escaped from his eye.
"Alfred, I'm sorry…I…I wasn't a great father…"
He could hear the annoying crickets as his sight was fully focused at A;fred's peaceful face. Oh how he wanted to rest with him like that on this fine, sunny day. No worries, no pain, and just happiness.
Another tear escaped as he uttered the words no anyone, even Alfred, would hear from him.
"I am proud of you…"
Memories of the American Revolution, the years Alfred fought desperately for his independence and recognition. And even to this day, all he wanted was for Alfred to be in his arms again, and smile like they did centuries ago.
More, but small tears formed at the corner of his eyes as he stared at the peaceful face in front of him.
"You shouldn't have left me, Alfred,"
He closed his eyes to let a few tears flow, before opening them to look at the calm but innocent face in front of him. He knew Alfred didn't deserve this. Truth to be told, no one deserved to be treated like a trash or be blocked from the world. But life is just…unfair. Besides, it's bound to happen sometime. But not today. Any day but today.
"I never wanted you to leave me…"
'I wanted the old days to come back…' Then, he chuckled. He never knew he would sound (and maybe act like) Yao just by thinking of the old days, where everything was just peaceful and whatnot.
"Alfred…"
All of a sudden, Alfred started convulsing as the beat of his heart sped up. Arthur quickly released the hand from his grasp, afraid of the condition the lad was in. He then panicked,
"ALFRED!"
Then, a nurse came in with a few doctors behind her.
"Mr. Kirkland! I am going to have to ask you to leave!"the nurse exclaimed as she rushed to the patient's bed along with the doctors that were behind her.
And without much of a choice, Arthur looked at his own precious boy one last time and left.
"…son…"
A few minutes later, the nurse came out.
"Okay, you can come in now," she uttered as her grip on the clipboard tightened. Arthur, though a bit worried for the woman, thanked her as he entered the white room once again.. Again, he held the hand of his precious boy as the beat of his heart got back to its monotonous beat.
"Alfred…are you okay now?"
Regardless of the two most annoying sounds in the room (heart monitor and the clock), Arthur could hear his silent response.
He smiled a bit. "I see. That's good to hear…"
Another hour passed, and there was still no response coming from the boy.
Immediately, the memory of that phone call five hours ago made his heart tremble and his brain full of unforgivable thoughts as he traced the deep scars on his wrists.
"Why did you cut, Alfred?"
Another tear escaped. "Do you hate your body that much?" His grip on the hand seemed to tighten as the minutes passed by without a single response from the boy.
"Do you just want to die already because of that?"
He didn't understand, and he surely won't in a lifetime.
"Why?"
But there's one thing he was certain of that not even that the greatest scientists in the world could ever prove that the opposite was true: his love for his precious son. Sure there had been ups and downs even until now, and there were times when Alfred did unspeakable things he never taught during his childhood. But despite all that, he still loved him, probably more than his own life.
"Alfred…I care for you,"
Was Alfred that blind? Did Alfred not see the love and care his own father has given until now, even if his own son did an unforgivable sin? Or did he think that Arthur does not and will never trust him after all the wars they've been through for the past centuries? Just the thought of his dear child suffering all alone in the dark made his spine shiver and his heart tremble with the fear of death in his mind.
No, he will make sure that for as long as Arthur lives, nor harm nor pain will be put on his dear baby, for if his son suffers the culprit will experience a wrath much greater than the wrath of an ordinary parent.
His free hand, from his wrists, then traced his pale cheek, frowning.
"I…I don't want to lose you…" He shook his head and bit his lip as he could feel the formation of tears behind his façade. "…not again…"
Then, for the first time, Arthur finally said the words he had never expected to say.
"I…need you…because you're…my most precious son…even more than India…"
He could remember those days when he spoilt India more than the American, and all he could feel was a certain someone watching with jealousy and betrayal in his eyes.
Why did he not recognize such unpleasant feeling?
All of a sudden, the hand Arthur held moved.
Arthur jumped back a bit before his smile widened as the thought of death lessened in his mind.
But he didn't want to jump to conclusions like that.
Arthur gripped on his hand once again.
"A-Alfred?"
All of a sudden, the beat of his heart changed. It sped up, but it has gone a bit faster than what happened a few hours ago, which made Arthur terrified of his child's fate.
He bit his lip once again. "Y-your heartbeat…"
Suddenly, Arthur saw lips moving and tears coming from the boy.
"I…I don't think…"
"W-what? Alfred, what is it?"
How it pains him to see his baby boy suffer like that. Never has he seen the kind of the world, the one who actually made the fearless nation proud, from the moment he found him in the fields on that sunny afternoon until now, break down in front of him like that. Never has he seen the pain in his eyes, calling for help to the person whom he has betrayed centuries ago. The look on his face tore and broke Arthur's heart into a million pieces. How he wanted to remove all the wires connected to him, hug hum, and soothe him with comforting words.
But in this state, he couldn't.
Finally, Alfred muttered with a hoarse voice as his pale fingers let Arthur warm hand embrace them.
"I…I see the light…"
This surprised the man more than ever.
'Wait…light?! Don't tell me…' Tears then leaked out as the thought of his boy suffering like that entered into his mind once again. No. Not today. For as long as he lives, he will not die in front of the man.
He gulped before brushing away the strands of hair that blocked his eyes. "A-Alfred? H-Hey…"
What was he going to do now that the little boy was suffering a depressing death?
"Mama…her hand…papa, I wanna go there,"
Suddenly, the tears fell as the last minutes of them being together like this dissolved into the calming breeze. But he allowed it, if it is the only way to show Alfred how his own father truly loves him.
He coughed and wiped some tears before placing a kiss on the hand he held.
"Alfred. H-hey, don't leave me…"
But Alfred continued, "Mama...mama..."
He didn't want him to go. Not just yet. Not even in a million years would he want anything else other than the life of his own son.
The grip tightened.
"Alfred...no. Stay with me..."
But Alfred still uttered, "I want my mama."
Again, Arthur pleaded and he inhaled the scent of his son's hand. "Don't leave me-"
Suddenly, Alfred cried out, "Mama!"
There was a momentary pause before Alfred continued.
"I want..."
"What do you want? Tell me."
Alfred bit his lip and he finally managed to focus on Arthur's pleading face. "...mama...please..."
More tears escaped as he thought of Native America, the mother of the child he's looking at. The memories they both shared, the times they spent together as mother and son...until the foreigners came.
Arthur used his thumb to wipe the child's tears away.
"Do you want to see your mother that bad?"
But still, Alfred pleaded, "It's her hand...please mama...take me away..."
There was another pregnant pause.
'What can I do? I can't just give up my son like that...I don't want to lose him again...not this time...'But seeing the look on Alfred's face just made him want to grant that wish.
But was he really ready for that?
So he asked,
"Do you wish for it?"
Maybe by asking if he really wanted to see his mom, Alfred would have at least a little knowledge of how Arthur really feels right now.
Eventually, for the next half hour, all Alfred did was cry, whispering about his mother smiling and reaching out a hand to him. While Arthur's eyes were focused on the lad, all Alfred saw was the ceiling...where his mother was. Oh how he wanted Alfred to focus on him instead. So the light wouldn't take his baby away. So his mother wouldn't take the one thing that he loved the most.
His own son.
He decided to ask again.
"Do you?"
Now both of his hands held the hand he kept on gripping. After all, without the Briton...Alfred would probably have a mental breakdown. And he didn't want to see him suffer like that. Rather, he wanted to share the pain with him. Cry with him. Suffer with him. As long as he's never alone, it will be okay and things will probably go back to normal (that is, if a tiny miracle would come from the sky). But he couldn't. He wanted to...but something was preventing him to do so.
It was probably Native America, who acted a shield to the two.
Did they really want each other back?
As much as he wanted to scream at him, he can't. It'd be wrong to scream at someone who's already suffering.
"Answer me,"
All he needed was one answer. One answer so that the Fates would decide on what to do with him. As much as he wanted to let him go, he couldn't. This child, though not obvious, was his favorite child. Even more than the so-called "crowned colony" (India). Even if he spoiled India more than the others, the love was not as great as the love he has given to the boy. After all, spoiling and loving are two different things. And it has to be kept that away. Forever.
A moment later, Alfred replied,
"Papa...I'm sorry..."
'Well he SHOULD be sorry,' he thought. 'He scared me by committing SUICIDE for hell's sake. Anything but THAT.' Oh how he wanted to scream. Scream that he wasn't alone. That he was always there. That he was always FOLLOWING him just to make sure he was okay. Besides, who on earth told him that he wasn't loved?!
But he needed that answer. Right at this minute, and right at this second.
"Just answer me,"
Well, Alfred may have improved on reading the atmosphere because what he said next kind of shocked him a bit.
"I want to stay...but..."
He let go of his hand, as much as he wanted to hold it closer to his heart.
Arthur had no choice, didn't he? The fact that he wanted his son to stay in his arms, but he couldn't because there he was, suffering as if there was no one to hold him. As much as he wanted to scream and cry, he couldn't.
He just couldn't.
"If you wish to seek your mother's hand..."
He had to do it. He's not repeating the same mistakes he has done before. No. Not this time. If he wanted to see her, so be it.
Oh how he wanted to break down and cry. Cry for his child. Cry for his mistake. Cry and cry until he was satisfied.
But not now. Not at this point.
"...I'll grant that wish,"
Then, he felt something in Alfred's eyes. An unknown emotion rarely felt by his own son. It only took him a few minutes to realize that feeling:
Guilt.
Why was he feeling guilty? Was he guilty because he's leaving his father? Was he guilty because of the suicidal act he has done? Did it have to do with the favor he asked to the old man?
Then, the answer came as fast as Cupid's arrow.
'Of course,' he thought. 'He thinks he's being selfish...what was he thinking?' He mentally shook his head. Normally, he would scold the boy for such a selfish wish. But what can he do? He's going to die. He's going to leave his father to rot alone in this cruel world. And if he wants it, then so be it. But now is not the time to scold the boy for a selfish wish.
After all, it's his last chance.
"But...what about you, papa?"
If it's only to make him happy, then so be it.
He sighed. "I only want to make you happy," He then turned to see the darkening sky and gave a sad smile. "And if you seem happy about that wish," He turned back to the boy and kissed his hand again. "I am satisfied as well-"
"But I'm not!"
And that startled Arthur for a bit. Never has he seen his own child with this kind of emotion. Never has he seen him this serious at all. Sure, he may have seen him serious at times, but this seriousness was more than how serious he was when the Revolutionary War came. It made Arthur worry. It made his heart jump...
It made him proud.
He didn't know why but...it made him proud of his own child.
"I raised you...to be a strong and beautiful leader..."
Those words. Those words he had given to the lad when the War ended. He could remember that time when the sun was bright, when Alfred had regained his hope in ruling a strong country. The nation had seen it all. And all this time...he was proud. He was proud of the boy all this time.
He just didn't know...until now.
Arthur was proud...but he never told anyone...not even the lad.
It just made him more guilty than ever before.
"I'm not...not until...you're really happy..."
'Oh Alfred,' He thought while brushing his hair. Was Alfred this serious? Was Alfred this selfless to others?
He couldn't understand the lad. And he may never understand him, even after his death.
"Alfred...my child...I was always happy..."
The days when Alfred was still a toddler. From the day Alfred tried to walk with his two feet on his own until the day Alfred proved his strength to the world. Even on those simple days when both father and son would watch the clouds together...he was always happy.
Why didn't he see that?
"But-"
He was tired of sitting. He was tired of getting himself comfortable on the chair. He was tired of watching his son suffer like that. If he truly wanted it, then so be it.
He stood up, but still held his precious child's hand.
"Well? Do you seek for it?"
"But...I won't be able to see you...if I go to Mama..."
'Stop being selfless and open your eyes,' he thought. He was tired of his child crying. He had enough. All he wanted was the answer.
"Do you seek for it?"
All of a sudden, the tears that Alfred tried to hold back fell. He saw him crying. He saw him crying. He saw him crying out "I'm sorry" as he still stared at the plain, white ceiling.
He wanted to cry. He wanted to cry with him. Make him think that he isn't alone in this cold world. Who wants to be a lonely island anyway? He didn't care of the respect he was given, or all his accomplishments. All he cared was his dearest Alfred.
And he will lose him. Lose him once and for all.
After a few minutes, Alfred gave his initial response.
"I don't know..anymore..."
As expected of him. He was torn up whether he should stay or leave that he didn't know what was real and what was not. To Alfred, his mother appearing at the ceiling felt...so real that he wanted to go with her, and be with her for the rest of eternity.
But of course, there was a price. Both knew that very well. If Alfred were leave Arthur, the latter will end up being broken inside. But if Alfred stays, it would be a traumatic experience for both father and son for the rest of his life. The fact that he was given a chance but refused the offer was already painful enough.
But Arthur didn't want him to suffer. He actually wanted him to say yes. But he had to let him decide.
After all, it's part of growing up.
Then, the rhythm of his heartbeat changed. Once again, it sped up. But this time, it was faster. Faster than the beat a few hours ago.
He was scared. Terrified of what might happen to his child next.
"It's starting to lose its rhythm..."
Arthur nodded. "I see...now tell me. Do you seek for it?"
"I..I...I seek for it..."
He closed his eyes. "...I see..." He released his grip on the hand, touched his bed frame and sighed.
Alfred seem startled. "What are you..."
Arthur opened his eyes and looked at his confused yet startled face. "I'm sorry...Alfred..." A tear escaped from his eye.
"W-Why?"The boy asked as he noticed the tear falling from his emerald eye.
The answer came back quicker than expected.
"Because of what I'm going to do. Forgive me...for I have sinned..."
It was then Alfred realized what will happen next.
"...don't even-"
"You wished for this. And I'm making it happen,"
Alfred sighed. "But...will you miss me?"
'What a silly question. Why wouldn't I?'
He smiled. "Oh, Alfred. I will miss you,"
Alfred uttered, "Papa." before he could feel another round of tears coming. What has he done? Why didn't he think of this through? He's going to die and it's all his fault. His fucking fault.
"Shh...I don't want to hear no more,"he muttered while stroking the dirty blonde hair that belonged to the boy.
All of a sudden, Alfred did something that no one, not even Arthur, had expected him to do.
"Papa!"
He hugged him. Tight. He hugged him as if his will to not let go was strong. The second round of tears came as Alfred buried his face onto Arthur's coat.
Arthur was startled, true. But this was the first time he felt truly loved. It was only now did he realize that he was loved. And he had a feeling that Alfred thought of the same thing.
If only he could reverse in time. If only he stopped Alfred at that moment...none of this would have ever happened. None of it. The tears wouldn't have revealed themselves, and Arthur wouldn't feel this sad.
Unknowingly, Arthur's tears came out faster than expected. He knew, but he decided to ignore it. Instead, he rubbed Alfred's back while looking at the ceiling.
"Alfred..."
"Thank you papa...for everything! For raising me! For never leaving my side! Thank you! And..."
Arthur wiped his tears as he gritted his own teeth.
"Alfred...!"
"And...Arthur...papa...I love you!"
The moment he said it, the rhythm stopped, and Alfred died...in Arthur's arms.
Arthur released him from his grasp and let Alfred lie down on his death bed.
"Alfred...son..."
His shaking hand then touched his lips.
'Cold...' It was then confirmed that Alfred...the one who made his life as bright as a star...died.
He suddenly collapsed, and for the first time, he cried. He cried his heart out. More than the aftermath of the war. He let out all the tears he hid for the past centuries, and he did it with all his heart.
He must have cried too hard because behind him were two familiar faces. One was tall, had long black hair, and had the skin of a true Native. And the other had dirty blonde hair with a cowlick sticking out, sky blue eyes, and his usual attire: brown bomber jacket, brown pants and squared glasses.
"Any last words?" The woman asked,
The boy nodded, kissed the crying man's cheek, and uttered,
"Thank you...papa..."
And the two figures disappeared like magic, leaving the nation, the once powerful nation who ruled the seven seas, cry like he had lost everything.
It was true, though.
He has lost his child.
On the day Arthur's birthday came.
"Everything was put together just as requested,
So wipe those tears away and let me see your face.
Come on, show it to me with pride."
Six years later...
Another meeting was adjourned once again.
After a number of fights, he decided to leave early.
It wasn't also because of the fact that nobody even greeted him on this very special day. It was because of today.
It's been six years since Alfred, his precious son, died in his arms.
And honestly, he still couldn't get over it.
Actually...he never did. And he probably never will.
So what else will he do on this fine, sunny day?
Well, he was on his way to the cemetery...as usual. He had recently planted a new batch of roses to be given to the lad.
'Perfect timing,' he thought as he had finished arranging the flowers in a very unique manner. Immediately, he carried them gently, and walked away.
"Hey...Alfred. Been a long time, hasn't it?"
What he didn't expect was that a few people came. Normally, a lot of people would come here everyday with their cars parked along the sidewalks just in time to visit their loved ones. Six years. And Arthur has gotten used to it.
But today, only a few come. He didn't understand why, but maybe someone who lived in the heavens decided to clear the pathway for the two to share a moment in peace.
And honestly, he was thankful for that.
Arthur decided to spend another hour, enjoying the calm atmosphere while at the same time, talking to the deceased lad occasionally...even if he knew for a fact that Alfred was gone.
Just as Arthur was ready to release another bucket of tears as memories hit him once again, a boy, not older than six, walked next to Alfred's tomb and put some flowers on his mother's tombstone.
But what didn't startle Arthur was that someone else came. It was the physical appearance: blue eyes, dirty blonde hair, cowlick...and most of all, the smile that Alfred used to wear when he was alive. And it was the exact same smile the child wore. The smile Arthur knew since the beginning.
"Uh..."
"What is it?"
The exact same voice.
Arthur wanted to scream in joy. To hug the lad while at the same time, let the tears flow, and for the first time in six years...smile. Smile like the whole death scene was a dream.
But he didn't want to jump to conclusions.
All of a sudden, the boy seemed shock.
"Eh?!"
"What's wrong?"
"I...I've seen you in my dreams. I don't know why but...you were the dude in my dreams! The dude who's been in there since I was one! I knew I'd find you!"
Arthur was now shocked.
So it was true.
Alfred was reborn into someone else now.
The negative side was that..the boy could no longer remember everything now.
Not even a single thing.
"So..what are you doing in a place like this?"
The boy sighed. "Just saying goodbye to mama before I go to the orphanage..."
If only there was a way...
"Say...could I adopt you?"
This surprised the lad, seeing that they met just now. But for Arthur...it was a reunion full of happiness and joy.
"How..when we just met?"
On impulse, Arthur hugged the boy, letting the tears flow as he recalled his child's warmth during the old days.
"Well...let's just say...that you remind me of someone...that I used to know..."
"Thank you so much for everything.
Sorry to have caused you so much trouble.
But could I just ask one last thing?
'Have we met somewhere before?'"
(c) Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. Order Made belongs to RADWIMPS. And most of Arthur's lines belong to a friend of mine.