I know I should be updating any of my other stories (You won't believe how far behind I am -.-) but with all the things that I had to deal with, starting from my grandmother's death, I don't think I can any time soon until Christmas.
So, as an apology, here's a USUK oneshot that I wrote a few weeks before. I apologize in advance if there are some things that aren't so historically accurate, because I really am not that acquainted with US history.
Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Hetalia
Alfred picked his way through the sea of red and blue-clad bodies. A fine drizzle rained down on him as he searched for a familiar face. The battle had ended just a while ago and while the others had gone to celebrate, here was Alfred F. Jones, the self-proclaimed hero, wading through the dead bodies of fallen soldiers.
He had convinced himself at first that he was just doing this to see how many of his comrades in blue had died at the hands of the British. Or at least that was what he told his friends when they had asked him. But as he continued to search, as he turned over each body, even the redcoats, he began to realize his real reason for his search.
He was looking for someone. One particular person. One particular British person, to be exact.
As the young American pursued his search, the drizzle slowly began to grow stronger. The water mixed with the blood of the fallen and created rivers on the dirt of the battlefield. The sight irked Alfred. He understood that this was all for their freedom, so they could be free from Britain's tyranny. But had it truly been necessary to spill this much blood? Did this many innocent lives had to be sacrificed for their country to become independent? They had all fought for a brave cause, yes, but each one of them was a person of their own, who had their own life, their own family. What would happen to those families now? How would they cope?
Even the British, their supposed enemies, were people too. They had their own families across the sea in England, people they loved and cared about. What would their loved ones do now? As for the British soldiers themselves, did they really know what they were fighting for? Did they even hate or dislike the Americans that much? Did they deserve to be lying dead and defeated on this barren battlefield?
So many questions and possibilities. It all made Alfred's head hurt. But he knew deep inside that all these stemmed from the same root. All of these were the results of only one single thing.
That was war.
War could rip apart two people and break their hearts. War could cut short a life of peace and happiness. War could break a family in two, never to be able to put back together. War could do such terrible things to a person that they were far too horrible to mention.
Only war could do this.
But thinking deeper still, what caused war?
As Alfred stared down at the dead body of a British redcoat, he felt a bitter taste in his mouth. Selfishness. Greed. Pride. Cruelty. Betrayal. The list could go on, but Alfred left it at that.
He needed to find someone.
And suddenly, he was there.
Like a ship lost at sea finds the unwavering beam of a lighthouse, like one might find a single spring flower amid the frost, Alfred found him.
Despite his uniform blending in with the others surrounding him, he stood out from the others for Alfred. His skin shone as pale as snow, his hair was a bright golden color and his eyes, though looking vacant and distant, were like a pair of emeralds. An alarmingly large dark red stain was spreading down the front of his red uniform and his musket lay forlornly a foot away. The man looked weak and vulnerable, broken and hollow.
And then Alfred couldn't contain it. He ran forward and dropped down to his knees in front of the soldier. He took the man in his arms in a warm embrace. Tears stung his sapphire eyes as he said softly in the man's ear, "Arthur".
The man responded to the name, hugging the American back weakly. "Alfred...so you found me."
Alfred sobbed. "I was scared, Art. So damn scared. I didn't know what to do. What would I do if I met you? What would I do if I..." He swallowed hard and sucked in a breath. "If I had to kill you..."
The Brit chuckled weakly. "It's over." His voice was weak and soft, his breathing heavy and shallow. "It's all over now, Alfred."
Alfred drew back for a moment to look at Arthur. His bright green eyes looked glassy, distant. "Is there still hope to save you?" He asked, fearing the answer. Arthur closed his eyes and shook his head. Sighing, he said, "I...don't think so, Al."
And then everything broke.
Everything just fell apart. The single thread that held together the fabric of Alfred's life had been pulled, unraveling the intricate and elaborate designs of the tapestry. All of it dissolved around Alfred. His chest felt heavy and a dreadful feeling of despair and hopelessness enveloped his entire being. His grip on Arthur tightened, as if he didn't want to let go of him. But already Arthur's fingers were growing cold and Alfred could feel him slowly slipping away from him.
Was this what he had been fighting for? For his country to be independent only to have the person he loved slip through his fingers?
Ever since Alfred had met Arthur, his purpose for fighting in this war had changed. Yes, he still fought for independence. But he fought for another thing now too. Now he fought for his own freedom, his right to be able to be happy with the person he loved. He fought to be able to be with Arthur.
But it had seemed that all of that was in vain now.
By now, the rain had stopped and had turned into a slightly slow drizzle around them but Alfred neither noticed nor cared. All he could see now was Arthur, cold and bloody, weak and forlorn, so very near but so heartbreakingly far. And all he wanted was to hold him in his arms forever, shield him from whatever would cause him harm, and never let him go. But what could he do now?
Arthur was very nearly gone and here was Alfred, right there but unable to do anything.
It was this feeling of utter uselessness, seeing the person he loved dying right before his eyes but being unable to stop the inevitable, it was the most painful thing he had ever experienced. None of the wounds inflicted upon him in that battle could amount to this pain. If he had thought the wound on his leg hurt, or the injury in his arm was horrible, they were all reduced to mere cuts compared to the pain he felt now.
His mind was clouded with it, his heart was heavy with it, and he wanted nothing but to be rid of it. He wanted to scream, to shout, to yell out all his anguish and frustration, but he couldn't. His body shook and tears fell like raindrops from his eyes, falling on the red bloodied uniform of his lover.
This was all.
This was all he could do?
Arthur's life was hanging by a thread and all he could do was cry? It was pathetic! His tears could do nothing to heal Arthur. They couldn't make all the blood disappear. They couldn't make all the pain go away. They couldn't erase a million memories of bright sunlit days and happy laughter, of sparkling emerald eyes and a soft warm hand in his. Alfred choked on his sobs as he laid his head gently on Arthur's chest.
No. Arthur couldn't die. He just couldn't. That beautiful smiling man that Alfred just couldn't stop thinking about just couldn't be...gone. But no matter how many times Alfred told himself that, no matter how many times he would say it, he knew that there was nothing he could do to stop it. He was supposed to be the hero, damn it. But what good would that do now?
In the end, he was weak. He was useless.
All he could give in the end were his tears.
"I'm sorry." Alfred said through the sobs racking his body. "I'm so sorry, Arthur. I can't...do anything."
Suddenly he felt the soft brush of cold fingertips against his cheek, slowly wiping away the tears from his blue eyes. Alfred slowly looked up at Arthur. The Brit was smiling. Although silvery tears glistened in his green eyes, he smiled at Alfred and continued to wipe the tears away. "Idiot." He said in a whisper. "Why are you apologizing? Don't you know..." He sucked in a deep shaking breath. "...that just being here with me...is already enough?"
If this had been meant to comfort Alfred, it didn't work. The pain in his chest just got heavier and the tears continued to pour out. He pulled Arthur closer and cried on his shoulder, not knowing what to do, not knowing what to say. Arthur embraced Alfred and in a shaking voice said, "You don't need to do anything else, Alfred...Just being with you...right here...right now...I'm...complete."
Alfred drew in a rattling breath as a realization slowly dawned on him. His heart still felt heavy, the pain was still there. But somehow, hearing Arthur say those words, he could feel it too.
A sense of completeness blooming within him. A wonderful, contented feeling. And then he knew, just like Arthur had said, nothing else mattered now.
Everything could just dissolve and break around them now for all they could care, as long as they were here, right now, together. Even if it was all just for a moment, one blink of an eye, one single heartbeat, it was all worth it.
Slowly, he laid Arthur's head on his chest and held his hand in his, just like how he used to. Just like how he always would.
"I'm here." Alfred whispered gently, squeezing Arthur's hand reassuringly. "I'm here, Arthur. I'm here."
Arthur smiled up at Alfred. He swallowed and let out a shallow, shaky breath that almost sounded like a death rattle. Slowly, he reached up and rested a quivering hand on Alfred's cheek, where a few tears still remained.
"I know." He smiled contentedly, the knowledge of Alfred's presence already enough for him. "I know." He whispered, closing his eyes in contentment.
Alfred closed his own eyes and held Arthur tighter. "I'll always be here." He whispered into his ear. Arthur coughed and drew in a deep breath. Alfred could tell that speaking was becoming hard for him. But despite the strain of the effort, Arthur managed to say, "I know...you will." Arthur's chest heaved up and down painfully and he gasped and coughed. But Alfred continued to whisper only two words into Arthur's ears.
"I'm here."
And to the both of them, those two words said more and meant more than what a thousand words ever could. Alfred never let go of Arthur's hand, even when it slowly grew weak and limp, even when the eyes behind those eyelids stopped flickering, even when his chest stopped heaving and his breathing was getting steadily slower.
And then the sun broke from behind a pair of dark gray clouds, surrounded in a heavenly halo of beautiful golden rays. It illuminated the battlefield below, shedding light unto the scars and the painful reminders of the battle that had passed.
Alfred blinked up at the bright light and he smiled. "Look, Art." He sighed. "A new day."
He looked down at Arthur. When the light hit him just now, it made the tears on his cheek sparkle like diamonds and it made him look almost angelic. Arthur breathed slowly. Opening his eyes, he smiled up at Alfred. "It's beautiful."
Alfred smiled back and brought a hand to the one on his cheek, pressing down on it gently. Arthur had gone deathly pale and his fingers were shaking hard. He gasped and Alfred could already see the life in his eyes disappear. Soon, it would be time to go.
Alfred's body shook and his heart hammered against his chest but he swallowed hard and leaned in close, whispering into Arthur's ear, "It's all right. We're together. I'm here."
Arthur let out a weak chuckle. He stared up at Alfred, a vacant faraway look on his face. "I know..." he said. He gasped and with his final breath, whispered,
"...Alfred."
Help
I don't know how to write anything happy anymore ;_;
Like I said, please take this as an apology for the really long updates. Don't worry though. I might be able to update my stories by the time Christmas break comes around, so please don't give up on me!
Anyways, hope you liked it~!
