Authors Note: Ok! So this is my second story I've submitted. I feel this story got a bit off track, but I like how it turned out all the same. I had some help from my friend Alfred Fiery Jones, she gave me major support and some pretty awesome suggestions for the story. She also made me stay up until 3 am to work on it, but whatever, I would have stayed up that late anyway. Maybe.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, and I never will D:
Characters/Pairings: America (Alfred) x England (Arthur) and France (Francis) x Canada (Matthew)
Enjoy?
"Arthur? HEY ARTHUR! Artieeee where are you?"
The house echoed the American's cheery voice, making it sound more ominous than intended. The lights, as far as Alfred could see, were off. The dull light from the chilly morning seeped through the large windows, leaving rays of cold sun on the floor. As he shuffled in, hanging his bomber jacket on a coat hanger, he glimpsed through his glasses at the thermostat. While it was 28 degrees (Fahrenheit) in Washington D.C. outside, inside it was a comfortable 74. He breathed softly, the chilly weather in the winter never ceased to make him feel refreshed, rejuvenated. He smiled and called out again, louder,"Iggy! I'm HERE, dude!"
Alfred stomped out of his boots, leaving them by the front door, watching the snow that lightly covered them melt away. He shuddered as his feet hit the cold tile floor, his socks doing little to protect his toes from the cold. He sighed and loosened the tie, looking around idly. Where WAS Arthur?
The clock on the wall was old, carved out of some light-colored wood that was collecting dust. He groaned inwardly, hating the old-fashioned thing, and tried to make a not to himself to replace it with a big, sweet digital clock. Maybe the numbers could flash colors! Smirking a bit at the thought, it took him a moment to register that it was only around 9:58 in the morning. He yawned, realizing that on a good day, he could still be asleep. Shrugging, he remembered the groceries in his arms and lugged them into the kitchen.
"Arthur, if you don't come down here, I'm going to throw away ALL of your gross food."
The youthful nation dropped the plastic bags onto the counter, and began to sort through them. A few bags of his favorite type of chips, some microwavable pizzas, multiple packs of sodas, and cookies. Then he went to the next bag, with contained tea bags, some lettuce and other leafy-things, and fish. He shrugged and shoved the food where it went lazily. Alfred allowed his gaze to fly out the window, and he watching as yet more snow began to fall down from the dark blue sky. He put on an unimpressed look. While Alfred did love that first snowfall, of making snow angels and having snowball fights with Arthur and Matthew, and building a snowman, giving him multiple twigs for eyebrows and giggling at Arthur to "guess who it is!"
As if realizing how dim and silent the house was, he turned around abruptly and screamed at the top of his lungs,"ARTHUR WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?"
Rolling his broad shoulders, he walked into the hallway, past the living room, dining room, study, and finally reaching a grand, winding staircase. Alfred peering up the carpeted steps, before mumbling under his breath and climbing up them. He only just glanced at the pictures that lined the wall along the staircase as he walked, pictures of all the former presidents, and farther up, pictures of his own friends and family. Ivan, Yao, Francis, himself, and at the very top by his bedroom, Arthur, staring out of the canvas looking angry and tired, a face he wore so often...
"Artie?"
Alfred peered into his own bedroom, for no other reason than to just look at it, knowing that Arthur wouldn't be in there. It was deserted, but it was so messy it made him feel that he wasn't alone. The clothes strewn out around the floor, the used cups and plates on his bed-side table, his lamp turned off. He frowned, narrowing his eyebrows, before retreating back into the hall, sighing, before checking the guest room, which was MUCH tidier and much more empty.
He retreated to the hallway and stalked towards the bathroom door, which was closed but unlocked. He pushing it open and saw Arthur, standing over the sink. He was staring into the mirror, his eyes looking sunken in and dark, but the brilliant green color still stood out against his pale skin. His fair hair was in a mess, uncombed and ragged around his ears and forehead. The older nation looked down, into the sink, as if just studying the drain, and let out a shaky sigh.
"Hey Alfred," he rasped, turning the sink on, letting the cold water flow quickly. "Just wanted to... Wash up, before breakfast..."
Alfred frowned again, this time more concerned than just annoyed. He stepped forward tentatively, reaching out to put a gloved hand on the other man's shoulder. Arthur flinched slightly as he felt the hand meet his shoulder, and sighed, scooping water into his light hands, splashing his face repeatedly for at least a minute. When he had finished, he turned off the water and stood rigid, letting the water drip down his face, falling off his nose and chin. He turned, gently pushing Alfred's hand off his shoulder, muttering,"I'll be down in a minute."
The American replied in a questioning voice,"Ok... Is there some thing going on? Hung over beyond belief? I didn't think you drank THAT much last night..." Arthur smiled, but it was unconvincing, and he chuckled,"Yes... Just hung over, that's all, Al. Go on, since you hate my cooking so much, why don't you go and make us something for breakfast? Anything you want..." He trailed off lazily, looking dead tired. Alfred frowned, muttering,"You didn't drink THAT much..." Before stalking back downstairs.
He pouted as he stood at the stove. While it was very true that he hated the Englishman's cooking, Alfred also hated doing the cooking himself. What would he make? He frowned, digging through the freezer, until he found some chocolate chip waffles and popped them into the toaster. He inhaled the faint smell of chocolate as the scent circulated around the room. He removed his gloves, setting them by the sink. He jumped as the toaster popped, and laughed at himself weakly, murmuring,"Silly of me, getting spooked by waffles. I'm the HERO!" And as if to add emphasis, he snagged a waffle and bit it in half, chewing it wildly.
The glanced at the clock. 10:30. No Arthur.
11:13. No Arthur.
12:02. No Arthur.
Alfred groaned, standing up. He had been sitting in his kitchen, playing on his new iPhone in silence, and finally became too curious to think straight. What was Arthur doing up there? It didn't take people THAT long to brush their teeth. He sighed, rubbing his face with his hands, blinking. Something was wrong, that much he could tell. Alfred stood, his back cracking a bit, and jogged back up the stairs.
"Ok Arthur, I don't know what you're doing but-"
Alfred paused, trying to take in the scene. Arthur was lying, with his clothes on, in the empty bath tub. He had tear stains on his cheeks, and apparently he was whimpering in his sleep. Alfred gave a half-hearted smile, looking at the older nation with pure adoration in his gorgeous blue eyes. He flexed his arms, chuckling, and picked up the smaller man with ease, but as he walked out, he heard a loud thunk! and Arthur flailed, screaming.
"Oh! Sorry Arthur! You're head! Oh God I'm- I'm sorry! Are you ok?"
Arthur gritted his teeth and looked around him, trying to realize what was going on. Alfred, as smooth as he was, had hit Arthur's head on the wall. Finally, green eyes met blue, and he sighed, rubbing the side of his head, and muttered,"You didn't mean it. It's alright... I can walk." Arthur wriggled out of his former charge's grip, and slightly pushed the other away. Alfred faltered momentarily, before saying,"Hey, look uh... Artie... Is there something wrong? I mean earlier you seemed so... I dunno.. off and now... look at you..."
He whispered the last part, glancing at trails on his cheeks where the tears had slid. Alfred tilted his head to the side a little and continued,"Why don't you just tell me whats wrong, Iggy? I mean, if it's something I did I'll totally fix it right now. And you've been like this ever since you came to visit me, Arthur! I mean, do you miss England? You can go home early if you want, I've just missed you and I thought that you coming here would be fun and you just look miserable all the time... You let me COOK this morning!"
The shorter of the two smiled that same, small, unconvincing smile and sighed,"Look, I'm fine, alright? I just... I feel so tired. Maybe I just need to go to sleep earlier. Maybe I'll go finish my nap..." That's when his stomach growled loudly, almost echoing through the long and dark hall. Alfred smirked a bit and said,"Ok, but first, breakfast. It's past noon! You need to eat, Iggy!" And with enthusiasm, Alfred grabbed his friend's hand and tugged him downstairs quickly.
"What do you want, Arthur? I can get you anything you want, anything at all. Tea? Waffles? Pizza... chips... soda... mm..." Alfred trailed off as he rummaged through the pantry, staring at all the junk food. He heard a very faint voice behind him mutter,"Just some tea, please."
Alfred frowned, narrowing his eyes, his glasses dropping to the tip of his nose. "JUST tea? Aren't you starving?" Arthur shook his head, and Alfred shrugged, heating up the water in a kettle. Arthur rested his small head in his hands, gazing at Alfred, and Alfred couldn't pick out the expression. He marched over and sat in the chair opposite Arthur, smiling a bit, trying to make the mood lighter. "So Iggy, anything you want to do before you leave in a few days?" Arthur smiled back softly, this time looking rather genuine. "I don't know. I just figured you'd... surprise me..."
Arthur left a little bit of emphasis on the 'surprise me', and Alfred noticed. He looked at Arthur questioningly, and sighed. "Arthur... Are you trying to tell me something?" Arthur narrowed his eyes, and rebuffed defensively,"Of course not!"
Alfred smirked,"Oh yeah?" Arthur hissed,"Yes, yeah!"
"Then why are you blushing?"
Arthur stood up, his chair flying backwards. "I'm not, you stupid git! I'm just... I'm just HOT, ok? Hot and tired and thirsty... And there's the tea," he finished as the kettle began to whistle loudly. Alfred leapt up and pulled it off the stove-top, pouring it into a coffee cup, lacking tea cups. He dropped a tea bag in, and sighed, glancing back at Arthur. "There was no need to get so defensive. By the way... You do look a little hot when you're all flustered like that." He smirked, winking at Arthur playfully, which only made him blush more and mutter things like,"I meant temperature-wise...! Never would be so conceited... You're impossible..."
He chuckled, but when Arthur grew silent, could practically hear the time passing as he and Arthur stood staring at each other, both not willing to look away first. Alfred's heart began to race. What was going on? What were those green eyes doing to him, did he not think his joke was funny? He never had much of a sense of humor. Even though he was intimidated, he couldn't look away. He couldn't look weak, that was unacceptable. He was the hero! He was the top nation! Everyone knew who HE was! He wasn't going to let a short Brit stare him down. The Englishman, however, looked cold and wouldn't dare lower his gaze. Alfred finally spoke.
"Iggy..."
England suddenly swept towards him, now just inches away from the other man's face. "You listen and you listen good, Alfred Freedom* Jones." He grabbed the taller nation's collar, standing on his tip-toes so that he was almost as tall as Alfred. "I'm going to tell you something, but you have to promise not to tell a single soul. Not even Matthew, understand? Answer me!"
Alfred swayed a bit, trying to remain focused, feeling uncomfortably close to his former brother, and nodded quickly, his glasses falling off his face, and landing on his left foot with a tiny tap.
"Alfred, the reason I haven't been feeling well lately is because... Well..." He was choking on his own words, trying to make them come out in a coherent sentence. "Don't tell Francis either! He'll bother me until I explode!" Alfred laughed and said,"Just tell me, Iggy!"
The Brit was blushing again, and he turned around, and whispered the words into the chilled air. "Well... I'm in love, with... someone..."
Alfred laughed,"Is that all? Well, good for you! So who is she? Is she pretty? Is she taller than you? Where is she from?" Arthur grumbled,"I'm not telling you anything, you stupid git. You've no right to know, anyway. Why should it matter to you?" Alfred just leaned over and elbowed the shorter nation and muttered,"You're just afraid I'm going to steal her, don't you Iggy?"
Arthur chuckled under his breath, whispering,"Well, you're considerably more handsome than me. Even IF you have glasses..." He smirked a bit, and Alfred mock-laughed,"Oh very funny, Arthur."
The eldest of the two turned back to face him and whispered,"But you know... I've always been a fan of glasses..." Alfred smiled,"Really! Does the girl you like have glasses?" Arthur looked down and took a sip of his semi-forgotten tea, and murmured,"Perhaps... Yes." Alfred smiled,"Why won't you tell me who it is?"
Arthur sighed, looking out at the snow, which had long ago stopped falling but still clung to the ground, refusing to melt, and it seemed quite inviting. With a quick chug, he had finished his tea and said,"Lets go play in the snow, Al. It looks beautiful. I miss playing in the snow, we haven't done it together in a few years. Maybe we could build a snowman?" Alfred didn't miss this change of subject but smiled. "All right! Lets do it!" And slipping on their heavy coats, they jumped out the back door and lost themselves in their activities, acting like children again, enjoying the day.
It was 9 o'clock.
The darkness was settling around the city, the stars were twinkling happily, the moon was full and it was rather peaceful-looking. The snow was falling again, but only just, hardly sticking to the ground. The temperature had risen by a few degrees, but not enough to make much of a difference. Most people had retreated indoors, enjoying the company of their families, most children were already sleeping peacefully in their beds. Inside Alfred's home, a fire was going in the stone fireplace, and the television was playing a horror movie. (Arthur had exclaimed,"I swear I thought it was a comedy!") Alfred had agreed reluctantly to watch it, commenting on how he wasn't a baby anymore, and Arthur, who was sitting on the complete opposite side smiled to himself.
As soon as the movie was about 30 minutes in, Alfred began to tremble visibly. He was whimpering and his glasses had been removed from his face, and were sitting on a small table beside him. Arthur began to feel a bit bad about making Alfred watch the scary movie, but had shrugged off the guilt at the thought of being able to comfort Alfred.
By the time they had watched 45 minutes Alfred whispered,"Artie?"
"Yes?" the older man replied a bit cautiously.
"I'm scared."
"Do you want me to turn it off?"
Alfred protested quickly,"No! I wanna watch it! But..."
"Come here, you big baby..."
Alfred wriggled over to Arthur and sighed, staring at the screen with wide eyes, but clutched onto Arthur's left arm, not letting it go, as if he'd drift off into the atmosphere. Arthur found that he could no longer focus on the movie (which wasn't that good, anyway, because it was American), and stroked Alfred's hair when he showed signs of fear, and Alfred made small noises of content when his former brother did so. But then, all too soon and much to Arthur's dismay, the movie ended. Alfred pulled away from Arthur and rose shakily and took the movie out of the DVD player, laughing,"Well! That was... pleasant? Oh boy... I'm gonna have nightmares! I really can't believe that movie got good reviews though. Well, ready for bed, Artie?"
Arthur nodded,"Sure, of course." Alfred smiled as the two walked upstairs together, and said,"So Artie... About the girl..." Arthur groaned and sped up, taking the steps two at a time. He rushed to the guest room and growled,"I'm not telling you anything, Alfred! Goodnight!" And with that, he slammed the door.
Alfred frowned and trudged into his own room, dragging his feet. As soon as he had changed into his pajamas and crawled under his smooth, soft sheets, he became paranoid. What was that noise he had heard? Were there monsters under his bed? Ghosts in his closet? UFO's on the roof, or maybe even a zombie Santa? He trembled, hiding under the covers. The darkness was terrifying him, and he finally gave up.
"ARTHUR! ARTHUR! ARTHUR HELP ME!"
Arthur rushed into the room, still in his day clothes. His eyes looked darker and more dreary than they had earlier that day. "What the hell is your problem, you loud git?" Alfred whispered,"I'm scared! There are monsters! Everywhere! Protect me Arthur!" He whimpered innocently, tears rising in his bright blue eyes. Arthur laughed softly,"You always have been such a big baby..."
The Englishman sat on the edge of the American's bed wearily, sighing,"I'll wait until you fall asleep, alright?" Alfred whimpered,"No! You have to stay here all night or the monsters might come after me!"
Arthur sighed and nodded in agreement, but gasped as he felt himself be tugged backwards onto the bed. Alfred was clutching onto him again, and Arthur couldn't help but feel smug. He pulled the covers over both of them, and felt Alfred's breathing slow, and he smiled. "Thanks, Arthur... I know this is childish of me, really... I just can't help it. Don't tell anyone that I was scared, ok? I'm the hero!"
Arthur absentmindedly kissed the top of Alfred head, his hair feeling soft and smooth, and muttered,"I won't." As soon as he did this, he blushed horribly, but Alfred was either so tired or so oblivious he didn't notice. Alfred kept rambling tiredly,"Yeah, never can handle that scary stuff... Are you feeling happier now Arthur? I haven't been asking because it seemed to bother you earlier, but you seem a bit happier now. I'll stop asking you about whoever you love, if you want. I'm just curious, because as long as I can remember you've been alone..."
"I wasn't alone when I had you."
Alfred turned to look up at his former brother, his blue eyes so child-like and curious, studying the older nation's face. He had never actually looked at him. Sure, he had seen him, acknowledged his presence, but had never actually studied his features. For Alfred, Arthur had always been that one kid you've known since kindergarten, and you've gotten so used to their presence you didn't feel the need to look at them. But now, he did stare at Arthur, and noticed how painfully green his eyes were, how fair his hair looked against the white pillows, and how he looked so weak, and a bit too old for his age.
For a while, Arthur had been angered whenever he thought about the child America he had raised, because he wasn't a pedophile (Cough like Francis cough) and he never wanted to be. Whenever he remembered the lovely past, it reminded him of what Alfred used to be, and how loving him made things so wrong. But things had changed, for both of them, and Arthur was willing to come to terms with his feelings. He sighed, feeling flushed and scared. Alfred blinked slowly.
"You have me now."
Arthur felt a small shudder go through him. "Alfred... I don't know what to say." Alfred wriggled up, and faced Arthur, and put his hand against his cheek. "You know, you don't always have to talk." Arthur turned away, his hair falling onto his face. "I should have told you this morning, shouldn't I? So you could have just kicked me out early on... I'll go now, if you want. I'm sorry, Alfred, I-"
"Iggy?"
"...Yes?"
"You talk too much."
Arthur turned to face Alfred and whispered,"But that's all I'm good at. Talking... I'm a failure as a human being. Incapable of human feelings... I've been so sad for so long, Alfred. It's because I... love you... and I just couldn't accept it... But today, when we had breakfast, I knew I'd have to tell you... I love you, Al..."
Alfred frowned, his eyes were squinted. "God... Arthur... I don't know... I don't think I can... Wait!"
The Englishman had stood, shrugging out of the bed in a hurry. "You don't have to say anything Alfred, I... understand. I'll get my things packed and leave in the morning. Goodnight." Alfred watched him leave, his fear of monsters and ghosts were now actually missed, he wished those were the worst of his problems. He grabbed fistfuls of his hair, as if trying to hold on to his head. Why did Arthur have to do this?
He couldn't lie to him, that would be the worst thing. He just wasn't sure if he loved Arthur or not. The thing was, for the longest time, Arthur was his father, his older brother. Of course they were not blood related, none of the countries truly were and he knew it. But still, in some ways it felt wrong. But Arthur had gotten over it... He gritted his teeth. What was to be done?
The morning was chilly, much like yesterday. The temperature had gone up another five degrees from the evening. Birds chirped, as if daring the sky to snow again. The trees were leaning a bit in the wind, which had picked up over the course of the week. The snow was slowly beginning to start turning into slush. The sky was rather clear, only faint white clouds drifting slowly overhead. If only today could be a good day.
Arthur was already packed and was trotting downstairs with his things. 'Please don't wake up, Alfred...' he thought desperately, his suitcases banging against his legs. If he could just get out of the house before his former charge woke up, there wouldn't be anymore awkward conversations. He sighed, feeling tears sting in his bright green eyes, and he whined softly to himself. Why did he have to break down like this? Why did he have to open his mouth? He hated himself, and when he got home to London... He would punish himself.
The Englishman had done it before, gone home after a World Meeting or something similar, and he would feel ashamed. He would have done something horribly rude or embarrassing, and felt like he needed to punish himself. Arthur would throw off his jacket and shirt and would stand over his sink, feeling the scared and ashamed tears fall down his face as he'd drag the knife over his skin, slowly and deliberately. He couldn't look at himself in the mirror on those days, feeling dirty and foolish.
He rushed into the kitchen to call a cab, bolting for the phone. The short nation almost screamed as he ran into the taller one, who had the phone in his gloved hand. Arthur backed away, blushing furiously, trying to hide his tears.
"Yes? This is Alfred Jones? I was wondering if there were any flights open to Canada this afternoon? Oh... Alberta, anywhere around Alberta... Two please... Really?"
Arthur took a quick step back. What was the American doing? It was getting harder to hold in his tears, so he left abruptly and locked himself in the downstairs bathroom. He sat on the edge of the sink counter, sobbing roughly. He had ruined his life. This was the end.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
"Arthur...?"
Trying to calm down, Arthur whispered back,"What do you need, Alfred?" He could hear the younger nation's breathing on the other side of the door, it was shaky and heavy. "Look, I bought two plane tickets to Canada. I figured we'd go see my brother, since you're already packed..."
Arthur frowned. "Why the bloody hell would I want to go visit Matthew with YOU?"
"Because your vacation isn't over yet, and there is lots of snow up there!"
There was a long moment of silence before Arthur unlocked the door and looked up at Alfred, and he could feel the shame flooding back into his face. Alfred grabbed Arthur by the wrist and dragged him outside, where his luggage was already loaded into a cab. "I didn't hear you call a cab, Alfred." The American shrugged,"Probably 'cause you were crying your eyes out in the bathroom."
"You insensitive git!" Arthur fired, trying to punch Alfred, who was a bit too tall and too fast for him. "How could you? I hate you! I want to go home! Leave me alone!" Arthur struggled to get out of Alfred's grip, which had tightened. "Please Arthur! Please come with me! I'm sorry, I swear I'm sorry please just come with me. Trust me."
Arthur saw Alfred's face, which looked, for the most part, sincere and a little... scared? Worried? Arthur knew he couldn't deny the younger nation, so he merely muttered a quiet,"Sure, sure..." and sat in the cab beside the last person he wanted to be anywhere near.
They rode to the airport in silence, not looking at each other.
"Al! Art! Hiya!"
Matthew greeted them happily, with hugs and offers of drinks and snacks. His house was humble, tiny, but with a big and very pretty kitchen, with seating for over 10 people. Whether he showed it or not, he enjoyed his food. "So how was the flight you two? I was worried you'd get snowed out!" Arthur commented very little, talking about how this weather was similar to the kind in his own country, while Alfred was off in the bathroom. Matthew was so sweet and hospitable, very unlike his brother. 'What a shame' Arthur thought sadly,'if he was more like Alfred I could have settled for him.'
Arthur hardly made a note of it when Mattie got a text, and he read it with a confused face. He pocketed his phone silently and mumbled,"I just uh... Eh... It's..." Alfred waltzed out of the bathroom shortly afterward, suggesting that they play some of Mattie's video games, to which Matthew obliged and Arthur halfheartedly agreed.
They played well into the night, from racing games to fighting games to puzzle games, until it was well past midnight and Arthur was too tired to think. Arthur stalked off to the guest room, and left the two brothers to themselves, feeling dead inside.
As soon as he was out of sight, Matthew turned to Alfred with wide eyes. "What did you mean in that text?" Alfred sighed, pausing the game, his eyebrows clenched together in a concentrating glare at his brother. "Look, he loves me! And I don't know what to do! How do I find out if I love him back? What if I do? Or worse, what if I don't? He's already lonely, if I just outright reject him, I could never be his friend again! And I care about him, Mattie, I don't want him to become a nervous wreck like the Baltic States..."
Matthew sighed,"To be honest, I already knew he liked you." Before Alfred could interrupt, Mattie continued hastily,"Everyone did! Francis started spreading rumors, and you know Francis... So I tried to tone them down, and everyone but you was in on it! So then I had to talk to Arthur and I'll tell you, brother..." He sighed, shaking his head,"He's pretty shaken. He was so scared you'd take it like... Well, like this."
Alfred smacked his hand to his forehead, shocked. How long had this been going on behind his back? Mere weeks? Months? Years? Why was he never informed if the gossip was about him? Did the other countries respect how Arthur felt? Alfred heaved a sigh and whispered,"God Mattie... Arthur... he is really sweet... I just don't know..."
"Well, I'll tell you one thing, brother,"he stood up, preparing to go to bed himself,"you need to tell him how you feel before he leaves. Can't you see he's dying inside every moment you spend with him?" Matthew's voice dropped suddenly, becoming very grave. "Have you seen his arms?
Alfred stood, dumbstruck. "What... What about his arms?" Matthew inched towards his brother, the fear of being overheard was immense. "Alfred, when I went to his house to talk about the rumors... About him liking you... When he answered the door, he looked dead. And he had his sleeves rolled up... I couldn't even count how many scars he had..." Alfred became suddenly terrified. "Are you saying he cuts himself?"
Mattie nodded gravely and turned around, slowly walking to his room. "I'm not saying that the cuts are because of you, Alfred, but either way they were still there. I'm not saying you have to fix this, but damn, I'd sure look up to you more if you tried." Alfred could only stare after him as he disappeared into his room.
Alfred flung himself onto the couch, feeling bitter. He felt sweaty, and his head buzzed with emotion, not even acknowledging his heart. Arthur had been his big brother! Arthur was so different from him! They had fought one of the biggest wars in their history's against each other! They couldn't be together!
Then again, Alfred thought fondly, thinking of when Arthur had stroked his hair, how gentle he had been. How Arthur always put up with his crazy antics. How Arthur had been so forgiving over every horrible thing Alfred had done to him, to forgive him enough to still love him. It tore his heart in half. He was finding, though, that one half was a bit bigger than the other.
"Arthur?"
Arthur shuffled under the covers. He had fallen asleep quickly that night, listening to the brother's voices, but he never could make out what they were saying. He had felt exhausted from the sobbing, then pain, and he had given up and had let sleep take him.
Alfred stood in the doorway to Mattie's guest room, watching the fair-haired blond shuffle in his sleep. He wondered why he had brought him here. He could have just called Matthew, and sought help that way, but it was all physical. Matthew's presence gave given him courage all day, and that way, Arthur couldn't escape on a plane for London, because his ticket home was only valid in America. He just needed him here, so he could work things out.
He shuffled in, and peered down at the older nation, wondering for a small second, if that the man he was looking down at right this second had once peered over a younger America in this same way, to check, perhaps, if he had yet fallen asleep. Alfred smiled at the thought, then stepped closer, gently removing the blanket that covered Arthur's torso and looked down at the older nation's arms. They were scarred heavily, looking gruesome and horrible. He pulled the blanket back over the smaller man and sighed, leaving the room. He knew what he had to do.
The next morning, the three nations in the house were woken up by a loud banging at the front door. Mattie, only in his blue boxers, opened the door, his hair a mess and his glasses crooked.
"Mon cher, Matthieu! I came to visit, and I see you are looking adorable in those boxers, mon amour. Do I hear other voices inside?"
"Oh! F-Francis! Uh y-yes, my brother and Arthur are here! They came to visit. Why didn't you call first?"
Matthew yelped squeakily as France grabbed his hand and pulled him close, kissing him with passion. "Mon amour, I could not wait to see you, not even for a minute."
Arthur watched the exchange with hatred. Why couldn't he have someone like that? Alfred laughed, already dressed, and said,"Hey, Frenchie! What's up, man? Look, if you wanna bang my brother, you better do it in his room and do it quietly, there are other people here!" Arthur blushed at Alfred's words, and was eager to see how Francis would reply.
"Ah, Amérique, bite your tongue! Perhaps you and mon cher Angleterre have similar plans?" Arthur could've died, and he turned and ran back into the guest room. Why? Why did Francis have to say that. Matthew was trying to talk to Francis, to warn him it wasn't something he needed to talk about. Alfred yelled,"AND WHAT IF I DO? Go fuck yourself, you ass."
Francis' eyes grew wide and rather surprised at Alfred's rebuff, almost smirking at it. He whispered to Matthew,"I like them a little feisty." Matthew giggled a little and Francis tugged Mattie along behind him, in the direction of a bedroom they both knew very well for the same reasons. Alfred growled under his breath and turned, angry. He had to talk to Arthur.
"Artie? Artie, open the door please."
"No. Go away. Maybe you can join the little fuck-fest. Have fun. I'm leaving."
Alfred leaned against the guest room door, narrowing his eyes. "Come on, Artieeeeeeeee. Let me at least talk to you. There are some things I think we need to discuss." Arthur groaned, burying his face in his pale hands, and hissed,"I don't want to discuss anything with you!"
Alfred backed away and ran down the hall and into his brothers room. "Mattie! Hey Mattie! I was wondering OH MY JESUS!"
Matthew was handcuffed to the bed, blushing furiously. Francis was standing over him with a wild grin. Both of them were, unfortunately, naked. Alfred hid his eyes and cried,"! Good God!" Matthew almost screamed in response,"ITS IN THE KITCHEN! In the drawer by the phone!" Francis laughed loudly as Alfred ran out, slamming the door behind him.
Alfred snagged the key from the drawer, feeling shaken and angry. He rushed to the guest room and unlocked the door, snarling,"Arthur! I'm coming in whether you like it or-"
The room was deserted, and the window was open. Alfred finished with a soft,"not..." And stepped towards the window, looking out. It was snowing heavier than it had been in D.C., and he could see Arthur wading through the 9 inches of snow on the ground. He was struggling to carry his suitcases, and Alfred could see the big, white puffs of smoke that emerged from the Englishman's lips. He sighed, without bothering to put a coat on, and hopped out the window after him.
"Arthur! Arthur wait up!"
Arthur turned around in disbelief, watching Alfred run as fast as he could in his direction. Arthur let out a shriek as the American jumped on him and knocked him over into the snow. "Dammit, you stupid git, get off of me! Now!"
Alfred looked down at him, his face mere inches away from the older nation's. His glasses were dangling only slightly off his nose, and he rushed to speak.
"Arthur! Listen to me, please! You can't leave! You can't leave me again, I have to talk to you! I know about your arms... And I have to know why."
The Brit looked flustered. How did the stupid American find out? No one knew! No one... but Matthew. He growled at his foolish behavior, how stupid he had been to not see this coming. Of course that's what they had been discussing that evening. They had been discussing him. Arthur struggled to get up from under Alfred, but he was too weak and small to manage it. Feeling defeated, he looked away from the taller nation and whispered,"It's not like you think it is."
Alfred replied quickly, determined to get Arthur to tell him everything. "Please, just help me understand what's wrong, Artie. I'll help you through this, in any way I can! I swear! Please just talk to me."
They must look ridiculous, laying out in the snow, just talking. Arthur was determined to finish the conversation, so he droned on in an uninterested voice, bottling his emotions as best as he could. "It started off after I realized I was alone. I was dead inside, and I thought if I could just feel something, even if it was pain... And then I just started doing it whenever I felt bad. It's not like all these scars are on your hands... But I'll admit, a lot of them are... Recently, I've stopped... Because I've been with you, and I didn't want you to see. I'm sorry, Alfred."
Alfred was crying, but it took him a second to realize it. He didn't know what to say, and his heart was screaming things that were far different from what his brain was. He sat up slowly, and grabbing Arthur by his tie, pulled him up too. Arthur couldn't look the taller nation in the eye, and noticed that he was shivering. "Alfred, aren't you cold?"
"Fuck yes I'm cold,"he whispered softly, pulling Arthur to his chest,"but right now, I don't really care." Arthur moved his thumb up to brush away Alfred's tears tenderly, and Alfred smiled a bit. "Iggy, I'm the one that should be saying sorry, you know. I should've... Seen it coming." Arthur faltered a bit and muttered,"You don't have to say you're sorry, Al."
"Of course I do! I... I feel terrible, really terrible. Why didn't you just talk to me, Artie?"
"I was afraid of how you would judge me."
"You know what?" Arthur peered up at the American, noticing that his glasses had fallen off, forgotten in the snow. Arthur went rigid as Alfred only pulled him closer, and heard him whisper those simple words he would have died to hear.
"Arthur, I love you."
Arthur yelped as Alfred grabbed him roughly and kissed him, making him blush furiously. The two stood, holding onto each other, ignoring the snow and the cold. For all they knew, they were in heaven. Arthur broke the kiss and whispered,"You don't mean that." Alfred just smiled and picked up the smaller nation fireman-style, leaning over to kiss him again. After a moment, he laughed and said,"If I didn't mean it, why would I be freezing my ass off out here for you?" Arthur accepted the explanation with a nod, and then Alfred carried his new found love back into the house.
As soon as they walked indoors, they saw Matthew. Handcuffed. To the refrigerator. Francis was nowhere to be seen.
"Holy shit Mattie, we keep our food in there! What the hell!"
* A good friend of mine were up late as I typed this, and she said "I just thought, what if the "F" stands for "Freedom"? And I thought it was the most brilliant suggestion, so I thought I'd just put it in here, even if other people (which I think there have been a few) have thought of it first. I love you Al!
I almost made this a one-sided story, but I can't break Arthur's heart like that! He's like, a part of me, and if I did that I'd like die inside. I just can't do it. So of course, there is your happy ending.