Hi everyone! This is just a little story I created while thinks of how Alfred could feel about the relationship (because there seems to be so much about how Arthur feels). I also wrote this because I discovered that writing to someone who will never read your letter is a great stress-reliever (and it saves them from being hurt).

They are countries in this, but human names are used.

Warnings: Tiny mention of MPreg at the end.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia and never will.

"Hey, Iggy, have you seen my bomber jacket? I can't find . . . ," Alfred F. Jones walked into his study to find his husband, Arthur Kirkland, sitting in Alfred's chair at the desk with a small stack of paper in his hands and tears in his eyes, ". . . it. Are you okay, Artie?"

Arthur wiped his eyes and sniffled, "Yes, I'm perfectly fine."

"No, you're not. You didn't correct me on your name either time."

"I'm fine you git."

"Then why were you crying?"

"I wasn't crying!"

"Fine, fine. What are you holding?"

"Nothing! It's nothing, Alfred."

Alfred, stubborn and persistent as he is, didn't believe that for a second and walked over to Arthur, snatching the papers out of his hands. One glance at them and he paled. He whispered, "Where did you find these?"

"In your file drawer. I was cleaning it up and came across those. As the letter is labeled for me, I thought it would be fine to read."

Alfred took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to get control of himself as all sorts of emotions flooded him. "Yes, your name is at the top. I did write it to you. But you were never supposed to see this."

"This" happened to be a letter that Alfred had written sometime towards the end of WWII. It said:

Dear Arthur,

Reflecting on recent discoveries, I feel it is time for me to write down all I have felt and done during the whole time I have known you. You will probably never read this, so I will not be shy about what I write. This paper will know all of my deepest thoughts, the ones I have locked away and most of the time forget about. But now I am just procrastinating, so I will begin.

When I first saw you in that field, I was surprised that anyone could look as I did. Everyone I had met had dark skin and darker hair. I was glad that I wasn't alone, that I had found someone like I am. I remember your eyes the most, looking so kind and already filled with love for me. In that moment, I always wanted to make you happy. I next remember your smile. It was so beautiful and lit up your face so much, as it still does. I don't get to see that smile much anymore, what with the wars and hard times, but every time I do, I go back to that day in that field. I miss your smile and I miss being the one to put it on your face. The thing I remember after that are your hands. They were so big compared to mine, so strong and so sure. I felt safe in those hands. I felt so safe when I was with you, like nothing could ever hurt me. I miss your arms around me, holding me close when I was feeling sad or greeting me when you came home. I miss your kisses. I miss to feeling that I would always be safe, that you would never let anything hurt me.

I was devastated when you had to go away. Of course, at the time, I had no idea why you would leave me. I didn't know that you didn't want to leave, even if you did tell me that. Now that I've had colonies, I know what it's like. But at the time, I didn't realize it hurt you just as much as it hurt me. All I knew was that you were leaving me and I didn't know for how long.

And when you came back, I was so happy to be in your arms again. I wanted to spend every moment with you. Because of that, I learned so much from you. You've taught me almost everything I know. I know I act like I'm oblivious and stupid, but I'm not. I noticed a long time ago that the easiest way to get people think you are a certain way, be it stupid or uncaring, was to act that way. If I'm stupid, people are more likely to leave me alone. Either that or try to invade and have their ass kicked, but that's another story for another time.

You had to leave again and when you came back, I was taller than you. I had also developed a different type of love for you. I didn't love you like a brother anymore. I loved you in a romantic way and it terrified me. I tried to push those feelings aside and just enjoy that you were there with me, and I somewhat succeeded. But it all just became too much. I wanted to be your equal. I hated that you still saw me as a child, even if I was. So when you started taxing me to pay for your wars, I saw a reason, an excuse.

Now would probably be a good time to mention that I soon saw the error in my ways, but it was too late to back out and I certainly wasn't going to surrender, proud idiot that I was and am. The night that I realized how much I was hurting you, I cried myself to sleep. I did the same thing every night after that. And when I didn't want my men to hear my tears, I would drink gallons of alcohol until I was so drunk I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. And then I'd pass out. Those were the only nights I didn't dream of you.

When I saw you kneeling in the mud crying, I was using every ounce of my being to not join you down there, gather you into my arms, and let you cry yourself to sleep on my shoulder like you had done for me so many times when I was a child. But I stood my ground and walked away, hating myself more with every step I took. That night when everyone else was celebrating, I was laying on my bed crying as memories of you flashed through my head. I couldn't forgive myself for hurting you. I still can't forgive myself.

Years passed and we had another war. I won again and I "celebrated" the same way I had before, except I added getting so drunk that I couldn't leave my bed the next day.

More years passed and I didn't see you during any of it. It killed me to know it was my own fault. I still craved your company, still yearned to be held in your arms and be loved no matter what I did. I tried to keep busy, tried to keep you out of my thoughts. It didn't work, but I tried anyway.

Eventually, World War One came. I was so, so torn during that. Torn between me as a nation and me as a human. As a nation, my people didn't want to join, my government didn't want to join. But as a human, I wanted to catched the soonest transportation over there and help you. When I finally got over there, it was so awkward between the two of us. And I absolutely hated it. I hated not being able to talk to about everything and nothing. I hated how sad you were when you thought I wasn't looking. I hated not being able to hug you close. I hated not being allowed to kiss you. I hated not being able to put a true, genuine smile on your lips no matter how hard I tried.

After WWI ended, we didn't speak again until WWII started. I know how much it hurt your pride to ask me for help and I appreciated it. I hated having to turn you down every time and I can honestly say that I just about punch Wilson after the Lusitania sank and he did nothing. I was so happy when your translators figured out what the Zimmerman telegram said and I was sent over. When I finally saw you, I couldn't believe how torn up you looked and I swore then and there that I would end the war if it was the last thing I did.

In the months and years following, we have become close again. Not as close as before, but I fear we will never be that close again. At least not in the same way. We are friends, and as much as I love being your anything (as long as I'm not your enemy), I can't help but wish I could be your everything.

I so desperately love and care for you. I want to be your boyfriend. Maybe one day your fiance and then your husband. I want to be yours forever. Yours and only yours. Forever and for always. I want to protect you from everything that could ever hurt you. I want you to feel safe in my arms. I want to hold you in my arms when you're sad and let you cry onto my shoulder. I want to rejoice with you when you're happy. I want to make you happy. I want to kiss you everywhere and every time of day and night. I want to cuddle with you on the couch, in bed, anywhere. I want to raise kids with you, whether we adopt or raise a colony together or whatever. I want you to know how beautiful you are and always have been. I want to make you feel loved. I want to take care of you when you're sick. I want to love you forever, be allowed to love you forever. Simply put, I love you with every ounce of my being. I always have and always will. I so desperately want you to feel the same way and I hope I one day work up the nerve to ask you out. Maybe when this blasted war is over.

Love always,

Alfred

It was quiet for a moment before Alfred said, "I'm sorry you had to read all that. I was just strained from the stress of the war and needed to get all of my feelings out."

Arthur looked up at him, wiping the last of the tears from his red and blotchy cheeks, "Why are you sorry? It was rather sweet. At least bittersweet. And you got your wish. I'm all yours and you're all mine. We're married and you get to do all the things you wanted to do." Arthur offered his husband a small smile.

Alfred couldn't help but smile back, "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Of course I'm right," Arthur replied with a smirk.

Alfred grinned and scooped Arthur up into his arms bridal style. "There's just one thing we're missing."

"What's that?" Arthur asked teasingly, his arms around Alfred's neck.

"A kid," Alfred replied with a wink.

Arthur turned scarlet as Alfred raced them up to their bedroom, "Oi! You git! Whatever happened to adopting?"

"Hey, that idea came before Italy had a kid!"

There is a ton of history in this, but I don't want to go into all of that, so if you have a question about any of it, please ask. Or, you know, pick up an American history textbook, but whatever works.

Review if you want, but I will tell you that they brighten up my day and I do reply to them (if you have an account/are logged in, anyway).

And rereading this (it was posted a while ago and I just read over it and noticed all of the editing it needed) made me want to write a second chapter, so who knows, maybe that will come out sometime. Probably. I mean, there are tons of other things I could/should be working on, but I'm have some major writer's block with a lot of my stories, so maybe writing a sequel chapter will get my creative juices flowing again. Now I'm just rambling.

Lots of love,

-Katherine