Memories
To find Arthur immersed in a book whilst cleaning out what would usually be his bedroom, was no longer an anomaly, or strange occurrence. Of course if it was in earlier times, when time was just too precious for him to waste on any sort of idling, he would put away something he wanted to look at for the times when he was free to do so. Now, as centuries of pain and hurt made the nation a tad softer, it was just expected to see the Brit with his broom, perhaps leaning on it whilst he read.
But whilst a book would not so much be considered in any way strange, a photo album was sure to cause some waves of sensitivity. Arthur was never comfortable with looking back at the past. "For whilst there were good memories, there would be the bad to accompany it." This is the quote usually greeting those who ever question Arthur's decision to put the albums up on a shelf where he would likely never have to touch them again. It seemed that today however, just that happened.
Arthur was doing his annual spring cleaning, already on Day 2 focusing on the cabinets and cupboards; putting away the old for safe keeping, and displaying the new for the sake of new times. It was then he came across a photo album dedicated entirely to himself and little America.
At first he simply stared at it, and raised his hand to throw it across the floor into the garbage. But of course, whoever must have placed it there [as he had no memory of ever putting it there in the shelf of his old bookcase] must have known he would never be able to do so. So it was with great reluctance that Arthur came down from his ladder on a bookcase in his library with the album, and somehow settled down with it on a nearby couch.
A few pictures, broken hearts, eternities, rain drops later, a silent knock on the library door could be heard, and Alfred came in quietly, as the Englishman sat on the couch, a tear going down his cheek in silent agony.
"A-Artie…" Alfred began, realizing all to late his mistake.
"Alfred! What the bloody hell are you doing here? How the hell did you get in? How…" And he went on and on, if it weren't for Alfred stopping him with a kiss, causing the Brit to blush.
"Wh-wha.."
"I hardly ever see you with a photo album in your hands these days. Especially not the ones filled with you and me." Alfred told him, smiling as a blush came about on his own cheeks.
Arthur looked down, his blush deepening.
"You git."
He hugged the other silently, as sobs racked through his body; the American holding him close.
No matter how painful it was.
I will always treasure our memories.
I will never forget.
But maybe that's just what made it so hard.