It was early in the morning, 4:49 AM or so. Arthur lay in his bunched up bed sheets, emerald green eyes staring out into space. "Pat, pat, pat," The rain hummed, it's steady rythym resembling that of a drum's. It was all he could hear that day. Nothing but the familiar sound of the London rain flooding his mind, numbing his thoughts. "Pat, pat, pat," It continued, and he continued to listen. It was the rain's song, the song that woke him up and lulled him to sleep...
So why, on this certain day, did it hurt him so?
It was an answer he did not have, a question to he could not reply. All he knew was that it hurt like hell, like a stinging in his heart that wouldn't go away.
Awoken from his previous state by the faint vibration of his cellphone softly clacking against the smooth wooden surface of his bedside table, he glanced to the side, then reaching an arm out to retrieve his it. Arthur didn't know who would call him this early in the morning, but it better be bloody important. "Hello?" He answered, irritation lingering in his thick British accent as he held up his phone to his ear. "Oh, hey Eyebrows!" A certain American exclaimed, quite rudely, from the other side of the line. "Don't call me that, you git. Now, what is it that you want?" The Brit snapped, earning a 'Huh?' from Alfred. "You don't know what today is?" The other questioned, sounding confused. "No." Arthur replied simply. He didn't recall anything special happening today...But nor did he recall checking the date. What was today, anyway?
"Well silly, today's my birthday!"
Those words echoed throughout his head, repeating over and over, making Arthur's chest ache each time 'birthday' sounded. The phone dropped from his hand, making quick contact with the wooden flooring of his bedroom, gravity pulling it down with no hesitation. "Arthur? Arthur?" Alfred buzzed worriedly, though the British man was far off in his own world, staring teary eyed at the empty space infront of him. The rain was all he could hear. The same rain that had poured down that one July 7th.
"Hey Brit, all I want is my freedom. I'm no longer a child, nor your little brother. From now on, consider me independent."
An all-too-familiar voice, yet so cold, sounded in his mind. Tears spilled down his pale cheeks, his gaze still fixed on the nothing-ness infront of him as he swallowed the bitter bile in his throat. He could remember the sound of the rain, and the shouts of the men in the same uniform as the American that stood oppisite of him on the battlefeild. It was all too much for Arthur.
The rain...The rain was all he could hear...
A/N: Yeah...Sorry it's so short! I just needed something to publish, so I just wrote some random stuffies down. But don't blame me for the shortness. Blame my lack of sleep. QwQ
