The chill winds of the outside were perfectly fitting for the tragedy that had struck four days ago. People filled into the funeral home, all quiet except for a few sobs escaping their lips.
Oh Say Can You See?
The folks who had arrived sat in their chairs, idly staring at the rather young robed man. It was then that, Arthur Kirkland sat down. But little did anyone know that he had been there for nearly an hour.
By The Dawn's Early Light?
Arthur took a seat near the front, face conveying not a single emotion. His long, double-breasted coat swayed as he sat. A scarf of three colors snug around his neck. Soon, Matthew came walking in, his face tinted red, and his eyes moist. There was no denying that he'd been crying. He sat next to Arthur, but for what reason, Arthur didn't know.
What's So Proudly, We Hailed?
The robed man was soon to be revealed as Feliciano Vargas, a dear friend of everyone in the room. His cheerful smile was absent today, and within good reason. He opened the book on the podium, and his voice rung out.
"We are gathered here today…to remember the tragedy that has struck us all in our hearts, as well as our minds. Today, we shall grieve the death of Alfred Fitzgerald Jones…"
At The Twilight's Last Gleaming.
A tear slipped from Matthew's cheek, and Arthur knew how greatly this affected him. It was indeed, his brother after all. It was surprising how quickly someone so important in your life could be taken away.
"Alfred was a great man, and from personal experience myself, he was what he claimed to be, in all of us. A hero." Feliciano smiled, though it was weak.
"It was four nights ago, that he'd fallen into the dark depths of the ocean."
Whose Broad Stripes and Bright Stars?
"Surviving currently is his husband, Arthur Kirkland-Jones, his brother, Matthew Williams-Beilschmidt, his brother-in-law, Gilbert Beilschmidt, his cousin Francis Bonnefoy, and his wife, Joan Bonnefoy. Many friends of Alfred are still among the living as well."
Through The Perilous Fight.
Feliciano's voice carried far, "This is not goodbye. We will all see him again someday. He has not truly left us. One day, we'll all meet again under the same sky. For the time being, though, it's all right to mourn, but don't make it last." Another weary smile, "Most of you know better than I do that he wouldn't like seeing us cry because of something that had happen to him."
Over The Ramparts, We Watched.
Matthew cried in the seat next to him, and Arthur patted him gently. He refused to cry himself. This is not how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to be at home, safe in his husband's arms, not a care in the world. He was not supposed to be in a funeral home.
Were So Gallantly Streaming.
"Ve…now, shall we all take a moment of silence, to relive the better times?"
Everyone mumbled in agreement, and the room was silent despite the few sniffles.
And The Rockets' Red Glare.
Arthur closed his own eyes, remembering the happiest moment of his life with Alfred, the night of their engagement. It had been a warm, summer day. He'd given Arthur breakfast in bed, took him out to a fancy restaurant, taken him to a firework show, and then, in the midst of the bursting colors, he'd knelt down, and asked the sweetest words he'd ever heard.
"Will you marry me, Arthur Kirkland?"
Arthur was so wrapped up in the memoir that he didn't realize the tears that slipped from his emerald eyes.
The Bombs Bursting In Air.
It didn't take much for Arthur to stir when Matthew began to sob hysterically next to him. Out of instinct for lord knows what reason, he held the brother close, letting him cry into his shoulder while Gilbert rubbed his back soothingly, giving a silent thanks to him with his eyes.
Gave Proof, Through The Night.
No one knew what time it was when the entered, and no one knew what time it was when Feliciano began the close of the statement.
"Now, let the silence end. Let the life began anew. Let the cracked hearts be mended. Let us show Alfred, we loved him greatly, but we can move on. Let's show him what an impression he made on all of our lives collectively. Do not let his memory dwindle, and do not let our love, nor his love for us, fade away."
That Our Flag Was Still There.
With the closing lines, Feliciano let some of his own tears spill, as he touched the closed casket. He mumbled an inaudible prayer, evident from the movement of his lips. Friends lay flowers on top of it, murmuring prayers of their own, with final goodbyes and sweet nothing that were never spoken in life. Matthew spoke the longest, beginning to ramble about how lucky he was to have a brother such as he. But as Arthur stepped up, he lay his flowers down, but no words ever got the chance to leave his throat.
Because the door burst open.
Oh Say Does That Star Spangled, Banner Yet Wave!
Every eye turned to the door with the chill winds that entered. The man in the door looked breathless, cerulean eyes scanning the room for a single soul. His hair was tasseled, messy as if he'd run here. Snow covered his shoulders and shoes, and his pools fell to Arthur. He approached him, hands shaking.
Over The Land, And Of The Free!
The man wrapped his arms around the Brit, his cold body holding Arthur's form. His hot breath reached his ear, but their eyes met. Something inside of Arthur knew, knew who the man holding him was. He wrapped his own arms around him, and let himself cry.
"I'm sorry for worrying you Arthur…"
The Brit shook his head, and cried, "A-Alfred…Alfred…"
Looks of bewilderment and awe filled the atmosphere, all wondering if this was a dream, or some sort of miracle.
A soft kiss was planted on Arthur's forehead, as Alfred stroked his hair gently.
"I told you I would come home…"
The shorter blond sniffled, and gazed up at him, a small smile on his lips, "You always keep your promises, don't you?"
The American laughed lightly, flashing a grin to all the eyes gawking.
"I love you, Arthur."
"I love you too…you bloody fool."
The Italian smiled his cheery grin, and the said, "Ve~! Well then! Let's rephrase all of this shall we? We are gathered here today, to celebrate the miraculous recovery of Alfred Fitzgerald Jones!"
And The Home, Of The Brave.
This is based off a dream I had. Again, Himaruya has never confirmed outright what the "F" in Alfred F. Jones is, so I used Fitzgerald. :)
Kudos to you if you spotted the PruCan and France/Joan
Thanks for reading, and review if you wish.
-IchigoMelon