Title: 6 Months

Rating: T

Pairings: Ireland x England,

Summery: He wrote letter after letter but he would never send them to the person they were destined to because he knew it wouldn't make any difference in the slightest. For .

Xxxxxx

It was hauntingly quite how quite the Kirkland house was naught but the sobbing of one nation sat on the living room floor filled the house. Broken furniture and smashed photo frames were scattered across the room. Arthur continued to sob rubbing his bruised arms feeling a sluggish trail of blood trickle down his chin.

But all that didn't seem to matter, he was gone and he was never coming back. The punches, the kicks they didn't seem to matter to him like they would have to anyone else. He was gone, he was gone and never coming back. He just continued to cry until his brothers found him an hour or so later.

Xxx

1924

Arthur sighed, his hands trembling as the ink pen danced slowly across the paper as he wrote a letter that would never be sent and would join the others in the box beside his desk sealed in an envelope with an address. He felt tears pooling in his eyes as he wrote, this was his only escape that didn't involve the bottle of whiskey Iain kept in the cupboard.

He let out a choked sob as he finished his letter taking the nearby envelope, writing the name and address of his former spouse across the white paper before sealing the letter and throwing it in the box with the other 3. He wiped his eyes before resting his head in his arms as he slowly cried himself to sleep.

Xxx

1942

He sat in the trenches, surrounded by his fellow men writing to their loved ones. It was nearly Christmas and they would be writing letters that would be sent, he was just writing one to add to the waiting pile of 17 at home and the three he carried with himself. It was similar to the ones he had written before only he added bits about the trenches and war the other wasn't fighting in.

He finished quicker then rest signing it with the same line he finished the rest with; he had been ending these letters like this since the early twenties why should he stop now? He bit his lip as he placed the letter with the rest in his bag trying not to cry, why did he still have to be in love with someone who hated him?

Xxx

1967

His heart clenched painfully as he wondered just why the hell he was still writing these things, wondering just why the hell it was so hard to let him go. Did he realise what he was still doing to him some forty or so years later? Arthur thought he probably didn't and even if he did he wouldn't care but continued to write another unsent letter to add to the pile of forty-six letters.

He sighed heavily before finishing with the same line he had used forty, thirty, twenty, ten and one year ago. If he ever got a hold of these letters maybe then he would realise how Arthur still felt about him, but its not like he would he would rather burn them then let him see them never mind read them.

Xxx

1989

He stilled loved him, after 68 painful years he still loved him and so he still wrote these heartfelt letters filled with everything he felt. Arthur completely broke down, something he hadn't done since the first few letters but he needed to cry, he needed to feel something. He needed to breathe.

He finished still crying the writing on the envelope nearly being completely wiped off by it, but he finished and threw it in the box of 68 letters that would never reach there destination. He stumbled from his study passing his brothers and son who sat watching TV not noticing his passing to the kitchen, his sobs lessening as the whiskey burnt out his throat.

Xxx

2009

Sean glared at the postman as he handed him the large weighty package slamming the door shut and glaring down at the package. An unfamiliar handwriting was scrawled across the top of the box; he glared at it once more before breaking through the tape with a nearby pair of scissors.

He blinked as he was met with a vast quantity of letters some tear stained whilst a few others were splattered with mud and blood. He gave a sigh as he recognised the lettering across each envelope, they were form Arthur, but that must mean he didn't send these since the writing on the box was nothing like this.

He dove his hand in taking out the first one he found pulling it out apprehensively, he eyes the faded yellow paper and the crinkled and abused envelope. He took a swig of his warm beer before slowly opening the envelope his eyes reading over the letter.

1922

Dear Sean,

I know you probably hate me and I know that if you saw me now you would probably kill me. I don't blame you for what you did before you left, I don't blame you for the broken furniture and the busted photographs of us. It was my entire fault anyway.

Call me crazy but I still love you, I'm still expecting you to come through the door as if nothing happened so everything can go back to how it was. But that's just a daydream I suppose because I know your never coming back you have no reason to. I don't think I hate missing anyone as much as I hate missing you

Arthur

He frowned before moving onto the next, one of the mud splattered ones that stank of gunpowder and god only knows what else. He took another swig of the Guinness before opening and reading this letter with a look of annoyance.

1944

Dear Sean,

I don't know why I'm still writing these because I know you will never get a hold of these but I suppose it's a relief for me. You probably know that the war is nearly over but I wouldn't know life in the trenches is dull and monotonous but I must continue now shouldn't I? Its weird how the men around me write to loved ones who will get their letters whilst you'll never get this.

I remembered a time when we all still lived together, I remember that I was ranting or something and you just kissed me and everything just went blank. You had that effect on me every time we kissed I couldn't think straight and everything would just go blank. You're unknowingly keeping me sane in these trenches. I don't think I hate missing anyone as much as I hate missing you.

Arthur

He sighed and ran a hand through his shaggy ebony hair before moving onto the next letter and the one after that, they all ended the same, with the same line through each and every letter. He paused as he reached the newest looking one only one crease in the corner the writing on the envelope looking fresh if not a few months old.

2008

Dear Sean,

It's been 87 years and yet I don't think I'll ever stop writing these letters. Francis told me something the other day, he told me that if I still loved you after all these years it must mean we are meant for each other. I simply laughed at him and told him if that was true then why did everything turn out like this? He gave no reply to that but just gave me one of those all knowing looks.

I think I'm going to give up writing these I don't think I can take much more anymore not matter how much this stupid heart of mine longs for you I know I can't have you back here, that just sounded very cheesy didn't it? I won't write anything like that anymore so don't worry. I wont end with the same line I've used over and over again for these past 86 letters.

I still love you and I probably always will.

Arthur

Sean froze and sighed carrying the letter with him to his study taking his own clean sheet and pen to write back, he owed him that much even if he hadn't sent the box. He bit his lip as he wrote silently cursing as he felt tears bubble up in his eyes, wiping them away before continuing.

Xxx

Arthur looked down at the envelope in his hands, no return address and no indication where it may have come from. With a sad sigh he opened it his tired green eyes freezing on the name at the bottom.

Dear Arthur,

I got your letters, though all at once and though you probably never sent them or intended for me to see them I still feel I should say thank you for them. I am sorry I have caused this, I'm sorry for what I did all those decades ago. I'm sorry for the bruises, for the cuts and broken home. Please forgive me.

Can I ask you one thing? Please let me go, it saddens me when I see that broken look in your eyes even more so now that I know I am the cause of it. I want you to hate me not to love me because knowing that you love me makes it harder for me to try and hate you because I simply can't.

Sean

And then the floodgates broke and he sat there sobbing over a letter, sobbing over the fact his had been read, sobbing over the fact nothing he could do or say could bring Sean back. No matter what Sean had put, it was still his fault. It would always be his fault.

Xxxxxx

Why must I write this angst! Please tell me! For who is my unintentional source of inspiration, she's the inspiration behind my other angsty Ireland x England fics Hallelujah and Remembering Sunday. If I'm honest I don't think these guys will ever get a happy ending.

Written whilst listening to 6 Months by Hey Monday, it's a song you should check out if you have any time.

Thanks for reading and please review!