This is what happens when I'm sad *sigh*
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or any of the things in Hetalia though I want to really bad...
Alfred, this is so that you will NEVER bring up that moment again... you're welcome ;)
The rain was ice slick and cold as it ran down their backs. There was no sun, no moon, no stars, only darkness surrounding them, only rain. It seemed at that point in time that the rain would never stop, would never cease falling as it clung desperately to clothes seeking something, anything that would hold it close.
Their faces, shrouded in shadow were the only thing that was not clear to all eyes as they stood facing each other in a field full of bodies. Alfred was surrounded by soldiers in blue as he faced the lone green eyed man, so alone in a field that used to be lively with the color red, but now was dark.
"Hey, Britain, all I want is my freedom, I'm no longer a child...From now on consider me independant." Alfred's words rang like a shot in the dark cold and hard just like the rain.
"No. I won't allow it!"
There was silence as the rifle placed firmly in the American's grasp was flung away, and then it was just him and Britain. The other soldiers didn't matter as England held the gun pointed towards America. It shook in his grasp, hard wood pressing deep into his hands feeling as though it was an illusion. He couldn't possibly be holding a gun up against the man he had taken in and had grown to love more than life itself. The world was cruel in that way. As Arthur recalled the many sunny afternoons, candle lit dinners, and laughter filled picnics the tip of the gun drooped until it was facing Alfred's feet. He dropped it and watched as it lay in the mud slowly getting drenched, the wax on the wood not nearly enough to keep the rain out.
"I cannot shoot you." His voice was soft his lip quivering as he didn't dare to look up. He couldn't risk a glance to see what Alfred's face looked like. He would be disgusted with Arthur's cowardice, his lip turning up in a scoff so unlike the American it was hard to picture, but at the same time, it was all too easy. Tears soon began leaking down his face in a torrent that could not be supressed, his shoulders shook and it took all his energy to hold back the many sobs that seemed like they would never stop coming.
And still the rain fell.
"What happened to you?" His words were not cold, but all the same cut through England's guard like a well sharpened knife. "You used to be so great."
The three words 'used to be' rang in his ears repeating over and over, chiming like a bell at midnight.
And then it was over. All of it. Alfred was gone, and Arthur was left hands pressed to his now muddy coat, clutching at the fabric in a vain attempt to keep himself from falling apart. Though he would never admit it, that day Arthur Kirkland cried more than he had cried in all his thousands of years of existence. That day was the day, that Arthur's heart was broken.
Short and to the point...
