Dull green eyes stare out the window, past the rain, past the thunder. He sees what could have been, what should have been, and what isn't.
He sees what is.
And he sees himself.
He sees the bitterness underlying his words, and he sees the anger and the hurt. He sees the desperation, the selfishness. He sees cold, dank bars, and drinks that only hold the sorrow at bay. He sees an old empire, crumbling from within.
He sees someone who was once so great, so powerful. He sees the nation who is still so great, yet never as good as before, never as wonderful, and never as inspirational. He sees the man who was once feared and respected. He sees the man he is now, hiding underneath his pain and pretending that what matters the most to him doesn't even pass his mind.
He sees the nation that was once so feared, yet now fears the dark and the loneliness that comes with it. He sees the nation that conquered so many, yet now is conquered by addiction and loss. He sees the nation that had so much, yet now mourns over how little he has. He sees the nation with the great colonies, so strong and vast, yet gone.
He sees the man who ruled the seven seas, yet now has never stepped foot on a boat. He sees the man who fought wars, yet now he can't even win the war against himself. He sees the man who bore the weight of the world on his shoulders, yet now can't even bear his own pain.
He sees the man who used to laugh and smile. He sees the man who the fairies loved. He sees the man who nations used to love and respect. He sees the man who can do anything and everything. And he sees himself.
He sees the rain.
He sees everything he's loved, and everything he's lost. It's a pity they're both the same.
He sees his failures, the humiliation, and the mockery.
And he cries.
He wallows in grief, and lost, and what-used-to-be's. He shivers in pain, and rejection and what-could-have-been's. He mourns for what he used to have, and what he doesn't have.
He doesn't understand why he's still alive.
Why not join the rain?
The rain is always there. If it's not here now, it will be tomorrow. He knows. He knows. The rain is always there. The rain will always be there for him.
He could join the rain, he supposes. It would be easy. He could go out and stand in its shower and let it surround him. He wouldn't be alive, but he wouldn't be dead either. He would be the rain.
He would be the rain that comes and goes. He would be the sad, sad rain with its dreary drops and soft tears.
He could.
The rain would be peaceful. Arthur knows the rain. It's been with him ever since he's opened his eyes for the first time, and it will be there when he closes them for the last. The rain is here and the rain is there. The rain is everywhere.
But.
The door creaks.
"Arthur?"
Soft. Quiet. Unsure. Worry. Love. Care.
It's okay.
He still has the sun.
Who loves the angst genre? *raises hand*
:D Lol, IDEK guys. I love angst. Especially if I'm happy. Angst when I'm sad is a no go. This work is complete, guys! I always find it funny when people put stories that are complete on story alert. The person at the end is completely up to you, btw. I'm a multi-shipper even though I tend to focus on certain pairings. I'm more of USUK, but you can see the FRUK, or whoever/UK if you want. Whatever.