Summary: On the eve of England's dissolution as a country, Alfred writes him a letter. "Countries become human. It's a fact of life. When your country becomes dissolved, you assume a mortal lifespan, before finally comes that time we will never know as nations. But you forget, and you can't see us anymore. It protects us, as much as I'll hate it. I can see you, but you can't see me."
Suggested listening: Vanilla Twilight by Owl City. (Or meteor shower by owl city) Not a songfic, just some nice background music.
England.
Arthur.
Artie.
Iggy.
As I write this, you're sitting far across from me. Just sitting. On that windowseat where I used to daydream about my future as a nation. On that windowseat where you would sit when I finally gained my independence from you. On that windowseat where we would sit together on nights when I would come home late, and you would stay up waiting for me, even though you would complain, you did it because you loved me.
You're sitting, and the window is open. The breeze is ruffling your hair. Have I ever told you I love your hair? It's so soft, and I could run my fingers through it forever. Even now, my fingers itch to drop this pen and hold you close.
You're sitting and the window is open. The sky is changing from robin's egg blue, to fiery, vibrant colors. I know what you're thinking, and it's killing me inside. You're thinking it's the last sunset you'll ever see. The last shades of violet. The final hues of crimson. The closing tints of rose.
It's not the fact that you refuse to talk to me, but I can sense that you need a little space, if only for now. The silence that has settled over this second story room is heavy. I would probably be quiet too. You're in one of those moods when you can't tell what you're thinking. I wish you would tell me.
You're wearing my old leather jackets with the sleeves that extend beyond your gentle hands. I love it when you do that. You used to be so big. But remember, I love you because you're small. I can hold you in an embrace until you fall asleep, and the embrace becomes a cradle.
I want you to know everything will be okay, although I can't guarentee it. Is it selfish of me? You have always called me a spoiled brat. But it's okay. I don't mind, becuase I know you don't really mean it.
Remember the stories you used to tell me about all the nations that disappeared? The countries that were your friends, and they left you alone? I'm sure you do, because you must be thinking over a whole lot of your life right now. When it's my time to go, I will be. But I'll mostly be thinking of you. But anyway.
Countries become human. It's a fact of life. When your country becomes dissolved, you assume a mortal lifespan, before finally comes that time we will never know as nations. But you forget, and you can't see us anymore. It protects us, as much as I'll hate it. I can see you, but you can't see me. You forget everything that happened to you as a country. From day one, to your final day. Today. Hours from now, tomorrow morning, you won't remember a thing. You'll know how to open doors, drink alcohol (though you were never very good at it), heat meals, walk, talk... I wonder... Will you know how to cook? How can you forget something you never had I suppose? I'd ask you, but I think it's best to wait for a few more hours. But you won't remember me. Or Francis, Antonio and Gilbert. You'll forget Elizaveta, Lovino, and Feliciano. It might be tearing you apart right now, thinking that you won't remember any of us. But it's okay Arthur. Please don't be sad about it.
I'll think about us all the time for you, even if 'us' won't exist anymore.
It's like you can start all over again. Think of it as a new chance. You'll already have those beautiful green eyes of yours going for you. And your rare little smile. And your lovely (sexy) accent. You'll probably even still live right here, in this two story house in Northampton. You just won't see me.
Looking at you now...
Ha. You'd probably call me a right bloody tosser right now, but when I look at you, I forget everything I was going to say.
I've told you everything that I love about you, except for the fact that I love you.
You never know what you've had until you lose it. That's complete crap. You always know what you have, you just never think you'd lose it. And I didn't want that to happen to me. So I told you I loved you every morning, and every evening, and every time we fought, because I didn't want anything else to be the last words I said to you.
But I still didn't say it enough. I should have said it every minute of every day, every second. God Arthur, it's your last day, and all I can do is sit here across the room and write a letter that I'm planning to give to you in a couple minutes. I can't stand it much longer. You've started glancing over your shoulder, and giving me glances with those gorgeous, emerald green eyes. Stay strong. I don't know if I'll be able to do it, so put up with me for a few more hours, please. I have to be near you. So please, just forgive me one more time for this selfish wish of mine.
When I say 'I love you,' it means that I accept you for who you are, and I'll never try to change you. I never wanted to. It meansthat I'll stand by you through good and bad. It means I'll keep your deepest secrets, and I'll never judge you. When I say 'I love you,' it means I'll never let go.
Leaving is sad. So sad. Things like "an ending is only a new beginning," and "everything is okay in the end, if it's not okay, it's not the end," right now, I don't want to hear those worn out words. So when I tell you a few more worn out words, please, forgive me. Please cry with me. If nothing can be done, then for now, I want us to at least be together.
As I write this, you're sitting on that windowseat that in the future, I'll be sitting on alone.
England.
Arthur.
Artie.
Iggy.
I love you.
A/N: Please review! Send me a PM if you're the tenth reviewer: I'll write a oneshot for you, if you'd like. Thanks for reading!
~Lifeisforlivingoutloud
P.S. I am tempted to turn this into a chaptered fic and have Alfred meet Arthur all over, again, as Alfred would be dissolved just days after England. But of course, they would not remember each other. What do you think?
P.P.S. If you're reading my other stories the Secret Ingredient, or Close Your Eyes, I promise I'll update them soon!