Disclaimer: I own Hetalia! Oh shit, I got sued.

Warning: Shounen-ai, onesided!USUK, eventual Franada, slight FrUk, USxOc, Arthur's POV, AU, Blind!Arthur, a large dose of OOC-ness, grammatical errors, random timeline, character's death, etc, etc. Consider yourself warned~

A/N : So yeah, I decided to turn a blind eye on my other stories and write this oneshot instead. *laughing maniacally* I'm such a bad author~ So I haven't write for quite some time now, and I have a really strong feeling that my skill's gotten rather rusty. So bear with me, please! I love you all even without flames! But I have to admit that I BEG for constructive criticism. I'm not a very skilled writer right now. I still need to improve, and you will help me a whole load by giving me critiques and pointing out my mistakes. I dedicate this for my friend, Priskilla *waves* who drew a really nice USUK picture for me in return. OH GOD, POLICE!ARTHUR FTW! *Rabid fangirl mode: on* Anyway, enough with the random ramblings! Read on!

When did it start?

When did you start to claw your way into my heart?

When did you start to always being there, always filling every second of my life with your presence?

Ahh, I can't even remember anymore. But what's the point anyway? You've always been there. You're always beside me.

But there must be a time when you were not there in my life. There must be. But that time feels so dark, so blurry, that I can't seem to remember it anymore. How ironic is that? Considering that those times were when the sunlight can still found its way through my forest green eyes.

You brightened up my days. You make them meaningful.

You're my sun, Alfred.

I regret not meeting you sooner. Sometimes, when I'm sitting alone (Which you always complained about. You said that I always think of stupid things whenever I'm alone), I wonder: 'What would happen if I met you sooner, Al? Oh, if only!'

But it didn't happen anyway.

No, it didn't. No matter how hard I wish for it.

But if only, if only I met you sooner… Maybe, maybe I'll be able to see your face. Maybe I'll be able to solidify it, carving it onto my head, my heart, my soul. I'll be able to know how you look like. To see the beauty, the depth of your azure eyes. I'll be able to know if your eyes really are as blue as the bluest summer sky; if your hair is as beautiful as the finest golden threads; if your smile really is as dazzling as the sun itself. I'll be able to see how handsome, how heavenly you really are. And even if you're not, I'll still love you anyway for you are the sun of my world.

Everyone wonders if I'm sad, if I'm lonely to forever dwell in the darkness, never be able to see the beauty of the light-basked world around me. I know sometimes you pity me too, but no one really have to worry, you know... You alone is enough for me, Alfred. You lit up everything. You're my everything.

I sometimes wonder what will happen if that dreaded accident has never happened and took away my eyes. Will you love me even more? Will everything get even better? Will I be someone who deserves to stand beside you? Will I be someone who's good enough for you? And when I told you about it you'll get angry at me, and warp me in your muscular arms tightly. "Don't say such things. You're good for me. Don't say such things.". And your brows will be knitted in worry and the skin under your eyes will get wet and watery. And then I will do as you say. I won't say such things like that anymore. I hate it if you're angry. I hate it if you're sad; if you cry. Because then I'm scared if you'll leave me one day, if you think that I always makes you upset and then leave me alone. So I stayed quiet, and inhale deeply. I love your scent Alfred, It smells of the sun, it smells of your forever present bomber jacket, of smile and love and endless days of happiness. It smells of you.

I used to love the night, and the evening too. Because it means everything will get dark and everyone won't be able to see. Only at that time I feel comfortable, like everything's normal. Like I'm normal. But you said you love the sun, and I should love it too. So I did. I love the sun too now.

And I remember one night when I was sleeping in my room, you knocked gently on my window. I woke up immediately, thanks to my sensitive hearing. Your gentle knocks and the rustling of my comforter filled the wallpapered room and my bare feet touched the carpeted floor silently. I strode over to the other end of the room easily, and opened the window with little difficulty. The strong, cold wind of the night blew into my room. I shivered slightly. "Hi, Artie. It's me, Alfred.", you whispered while patting the back of my hand softly, trying your best not to get caught by my parents. I blushed a little, and blamed it to the wind. "What are you doing here, you git? It's very late at night.", I whispered too, masking the happiness in my voice with irritation expertly. You chuckled and heaved yourself up so that you can sit on my window frame. "Quick, I want to show you something, Artie. Hold me.", you hold my hands firmly and place it around your neck. My cheeks heated up as you snake your arms around my waist and hold me against your body firmly. Your right hand took hold of my legs, and snake it around your torso. I opened my mouth, trying to find something to confront you with, but found that no words found its way pass my lips.

You made sure I'm safe in your arms, then grab hold of a sturdy branch of the huge tree in front of my room. You swing, and swing, and climb. I can feel the wind blowing against my face, and how far high we really are from the sweet, sweet ground. It makes my stomach flipped a few times with fear. You're such a fast climber, so we reached the top of our roof in quite a short time. You sat on the roof tiles, and put me beside you, never letting go of my waist. As my fear began to subside, my heart started pounding hard again, hammering against my ribcage. You seemed to notice it too since you patted my back in a shooting manner and chuckled a little. "The sun's gonna rise in a few minute now, Artie.", whispered you into my ear. I nodded.

It was warm. I can feel the coldness of the night began to fade away as each second passed. "It began", you whispered into my ear. "Describe it to me.", I ordered. I felt you nodded in agreement. "The sky's turning more blue than black. Now, red lines began to form on the horizon." I nodded, allowing you to continue. I listened to your voice intently, each words warming my heart. "The red line now gets even thicker, more red tainting the lighter blue."

Minutes passed, and I tried to form the image inside my head. It sounds so beautiful coming from your lips. "The little puffy clouds on the east are turning reddish too because of the light. It's colour is more like a mixture between cream, gold, and orange, with blue on the northern part."

"Now nearly the whole sky is creamy-orange, with a few streaks of blue, pink, and red everywhere. Oh God, Arthur. It's beautiful.", you sighed contently. A small smile tugged on my lips. I closed my eyes softly, and tried to picture how the sky really looked like. I can feel the comfortable warmth of the sun caressing my skin, and the warmth of your body radiating as comfortably as the sun's itself. I can imagine you there, sitting on the red roof-tile, facing the beautiful sky, basking in the golden light of sunrise. And I rested my heads on your shoulder.

"Now, Artie! The sun's coming out! Ouch, it's really shiny! Don't worry, I'm narrowing my eyes right now. Whoa, it's such a beautiful gold…. Now the sun's shining every part of the town. It goes up, up…. More houses is lighted up by the sun as it moves even northern. Can you feel it, Artie? The air's getting warmer! There's some green-coloured ones, red like yours, black, brown, grey… hell, who's crazy enough to pick pink-coloured roof-tiles?"

And we spent the time like that, sitting there on the roof, leaning on each other.

You idiot git. You idiot, idiot insufferable git. Who would confess to their crush on their house' roof, in the middle of the dawn? It looks like you're that idiot, I see. And no! I did not scream like a little girl and throw myself to you while sobbing! I did not blush either, no matter how much you tried to tell me! It was the wind drying my eyes. And it was so cold, it makes my cheeks turned slightly pink! I did not shriek either! I-It was very, very manly! A-and….Well… S-shut it.

It was very sweet of you.

I-I appreciate it.

And then you brought me there everyday. Every dawn you would appear outside my window, knocking on the glass and waking me up. Swinging and climbing on the old yet strong tree, bringing me up high to sit on my roof and enjoy the sunrise. And you would always be there, holding my waist protectively, preventing me from falling down and getting hurt. All smiley and cheery and acting idiotic and spatting out nonsense. Then I would act all irritated, insult you and continue telling you things I didn't meant. And then you would laugh, or pout mockingly, or poke my cheeks just to annoy me.

I love those days. I really appreciate it. Thank you.

I wonder when was it that I began to wait for you to come there and knock on my windows gently?

When I began to look out for the days when the two of us would sit there and enjoy the gentle warmth of the sun and the presence of one another?

I've never really told you how much I love you, haven't I? I'm sorry. I'll say it now: I love you, I love you, I love you. I love you, Alfred. I love you. I remember that morning when you showed up on my doorstep for the first time. When we first met. It was a chilly morning, but it's always like that in our tiny town up on the mountains. Fogs were still everywhere, according to my mom's constant complains. And you rang our doorbell. It rang throughout the whole house again and again, breaking the peaceful silence of early morning. I should've guessed what an annoying prat you are at that time before I opened our old wooden door. I guess my instinct wasn't working well that morning, or I wouldn't have offered to open the door and opt to pretend as if I'm not in the house at the moment. I used to dread that choice, you know. Now I thank whoever is up there for it.

"Good morning sir! I'm Alfred F Jones, and I've just moved in here with my family last night. Since we think it would've been very rude of us to disturb you in the middle of the night, we decided to wait until morning!"—Isn't this early in the morning is just as rude all the same?—"I heard that you have a boy about my age here, so I decided to drop a visit. I also heard that he's blind, so being such a nice hero I am, I would like to escort him to the school safely! So now, where is he?"

Those words hurt me at that time. I thought: 'Who the hell does he think he is?'. You have to understand, Alfred. I was really bitter, and dreaded the fact that I was blind for life. My wound was still fresh and you've rubbed salt onto it. So I scowled, and glared daggers at the space I think is where your sound comes from. "Just so you know, sir Alfred, I can walk on my own just fine. Thank you very much.", I hissed through my clenched teeth.

I can guess that you were startled by the silence following later. "… It's you? I'm sorry! I didn't mean to be a jerk, man. I mean, are you sure you're the same age as me? Dude, you look like such an old man."

My whole face heated up and my body fist shook in anger. "I'M NOT AN OLD MAN!", I shouted at you. You just laughed heartedly though. "Yeah, but you sure does look like one." I trembled even more, but being a thoughtful gentleman I am, I decided not to hit your jaw with my clenched fist. I know I'll end up with the most bruises and cuts anyway. So I backed down slightly, grabbed the doorknob with all my strength, and slammed the door shut with a deafening sound. "DON'T YOU EVER COME BACK!"

I ran upstairs to my room, ignoring the questions my parents throw at me when I whizzed past them.

I met you at my school that morning, though. Much to my disappointment.

But then you and your hero-delusions just can't seem to be rid off easily. You attached yourself to me, following me everywhere. To classes, to the canteen, to my beloved-yet-sadly-not-so-peaceful-anymore library. I suspected that you either managed to threatened the secretary into changing your whole classes to exactly copy mine, or you simply ditched all your classes and joined each one of mine.

We quickly became friends, no matter how much I tried to resist. We were inseparable. Although you were accepted in the popular circle so easily, you still didn't leave me. You dragged me to every event you attend, and refuses to attend ones where my presence is denied.

And over years, I fell for you.

I really, really do love you. No matter how much I refused to say it. I'm a man with a huge ego, Alfred. I can't say these kind of things so easily. You won't know how much I want to return the 'I love you's you whispered into my ear, screamed with glee and excitement, said with love brimming up to your eyes. Yet I can't. Never was I ever able to say it.

I wonder, if I was able to say it even if just once, would you stay by my side forever instead? Would you grace this tiny town with your presence and never went for the big city? But there's no answer to that. And I would never be able to say it to you. It's too late.

I realise it was very egoist of me to think such things. I mean, you're happy there, aren't you? I heard you have a beautiful wife and a cozy house in a very nice neighborhood. With huge windows, fireplace, a beautiful flower-filled garden, and cute white fences around it. I heard you live an amazing life out there, completely oblivious of me and the promise you've told me the morning you leaved. It's okay. It's better for you that way.

But I would like to remind you now, just for the sake of the good old time. I still remember that day very clearly as if it was just yesterday. Heck, everyday spent with you felt like it just happened at least a week ago. It was an ordinary dawn with you and me. Watching the sunrise together, leaning to each other just like every other day. But there's something different. It was you. You were very quiet. You didn't talk as much, and your hold and touches were much more gentle, more sluggish and powerless. I know your head was far up in the clouds since you didn't seem to pay much attention to what I was saying, so I asked you what's wrong. You clasped my hands and hold it firmly between your bigger, calloused palms. I can feel you staring straight into my eyes, even though I can't do the same to you. "Listen to me, Arthur. I'm going to the city."

I froze. I couldn't seem to believe my ears at that moment. "W-what?", I choked out with a shaky voice. My fingers reached for your face, and I knew you bit your lip. You always do it when you're nervous. "I want to go to the city, Arthur. W-wait. Hear me out, okay? Arthur, we're not little kids anymore. We'll be adults soon, and we have to be able to support ourselves. And I think I would have a bigger chance at the city than here. I would work very, very hard, Arthur. And then when it's enough, when I have a steady job, a tiny little house with yellow and white paint and roses in the garden, I would come back to you. I would sweep you off your feet, and carry you bridal style to our tiny house where we can live happily ever after. It will have windows everywhere so that the sunlight can get in easily; beautiful white fences guarding it; cozy sofas and carpeted floor so that you won't get hurt if you fall; flowers on every corner so that you would easily know where your location is; a nice fireplace with thousands of books in Braille where we can enjoy the night together; and what's more important is that there will be the two of us. Together. As long as we can still breath."

Do you know how much those words meant for me? How those false, empty hopes of the beautiful future you whispered into my ear made my heart flutter in happiness? Those empty dreams of a beautiful future with you were so, so beautiful. So albeit feeling a little scared and unsure, I nodded my head slowly, ignoring the warning screams from the back of my head. You beamed happily, and enveloped me in that warm, warm hug of yours. If only, if only I was smart enough to ignore those words of yours and listened to the warnings my more logical-thinking side gave me…. Then we might've been together until the end. Maybe my story wouldn't end the way it did. But as I've said earlier, it's better for you this way.

And then you left.

For your dream. For our future. For your life.

And I waited for you. I waited, I waited, I waited. Until the very end, I waited. And I would wait more if I could. If time would've let me. I would sit on the roof every morning, using the rope stairs you made for me before you left. I would enjoy the sunrise everytime, relishing in the warmth of the sunlight and the cold wind and the slight chirps of birds. Then I would close my eyes although that movement nearly means nothing to me, and imagine you there. I would imagine that the warmth of the sun is your body warmth and your soft, gentle touches; the chirps of birds as your laughter and chatter; the wind as your breath on my ash-blonde hair.

And then before the sun got higher, I would climb back to my window carefully and rolled the rope-stairs back by pulling another rope you set up near so no one will ever know. Then I would walk to my bed slowly, and flopped between the thick layers of comforters. I would snuggle it, warming myself and drifts off to a dreamland where the two of us are living together happily.

As anyone would've guessed, I became a part-time librarian and a teacher for the local elementary school. Seems like they're considerate enough to accept a blind man like me. That's why I worked real hard. I did my best, and dedicated myself to my jobs. And the time where I'm not teaching or taking care of wonderful pieces of literature, I dedicated for you.

I know how happy you are over there. It was such a fine evening five years later when I found out. Every kids were already home with their parents, and only several teachers were staying. Either in the teacher lounge or in their respective classrooms. I was simply tidying the stack of papers which is my students' assignment for the day. It was five pages worth of Moby Dick's character analysis. Wasn't such a hard assignment, I think.

Do you remember Roderich and Elizaveta? Roderich became the school's music teacher, and Elizaveta became the teacher of grade one. They were married at June, and lived happily in Roderich's house at the center of the town. Gilbert—not so surprisingly—runs a pub with his younger brother, Ludwig. He always drops by the school, ditching his works and leaving it all to his brother. He's a nice man, though. We often hang out together and crash by his place to drink. And no, I never used that bloody white cane you gave me before you left. I don't need it to walk around the town, thank you very much. I know my way around it already.

Gilbert just slammed the door open asl always, startling me greatly. He always seems to forget that I'm fucking blind and that my ears are as sensitive as hell. "THE AWESOME ME HAS DECIDED TO GRACE YOU WITH HIS PRESENCE, PEASANT! NOW BOW AND PRAISE MY NAME!"

I rolled my eyes. "Very funny, Gilbert. What do you want?"

"Kesesesese. What do you think of Alfred's little girl? Quite an awesome little baby, eh? Not as awesome as me, though."

My mind halted into a stop, and I froze in place. "W-what are you talking about?"

"Wait, man, you mean you didn't know? But Al's like, sending the letter to nearly all his friends! How could he missed you? Aren't y—"

Someone clasped their hand on top of Gilbert's mouth, preventing him from speaking any more. "Shut up, Gil! Don't be such a jerk!" Elizaveta. My throat has gone dry, and I can feel beads of sweat forms behind my neck. "Okay, what are you talking about? Are you hiding something from me?"

Elizaveta gulped. "W-well, it's nothing, really. Sorry, Artie! I think we have to go somewhere else! See you next morning!", she rushed and fled out of the room as fast as she could, dragging the albino behind her.

But I was such a curious man, so I tried to find out. I asked people, and tried to fish out information from a very drunk Gilbert. Then I found out the truth. You were married to a lady about two years ago, and your first daughter was just born for a few weeks. They said you succeeded there. You live a nice life over there in the big city, more than what you could ever achiever here.

I should've been happy for you.

And I did.

But it's not wrong to feel a little crushed and dejected, right?

But I still waited for you.

I waited.

I waited.

I waited.

And years has gone by, yet you never came. It's seven years already. I was 25. It's still the same way as ever with me, except that my parents has left this world peacefully. Elizaveta helped me arrange a beautiful funeral for them.

And that Francis came proposing to me.

It was very sweet of him. Very Francis. Romantic and extravagant. A nice dinner at a French restaurant, a ring at the bottom of the whiskey glass (which I nearly choked on. Really, no one ever seems to remember that I can't see.). He took the ring from my fingers, and knelt. He warped my hands with his bigger ones, and promised me eternal happiness and peace. And that he would love me and cherish me with every fibre of his being.

And I refused.

I wonder why? It was such a stupid decision. Francis really do love me, and I trust he would've treated me very nicely. I would live a happy life with him, and maybe learn to love him back over time. Was it because deep inside my heart I was still hoping for you to come back, and to fulfill that vow you whispered into my ear a long time ago?

Maybe.

No, I'm pretty positive that was the reason.

So I said no to him very nicely, and continued my wait.

I waited for you more. And a year later, Francis married your twin brother, Matthew. I didn't show up to the party, although I'm pretty sure that you would show up. And they said you really did. With your beautiful wife and a very lovely daughter of three. I heard she's very chatty now, and that she looks very beautiful with long curly blond locks and a pair of deep azure eyes. I also heard that she enrolled in a nice playgroup not far from your house.

Was I scared? Was I being scared to meet you? To finally get back from my dreamland, to have my hopes trampled on? I guess I realised that you have forgotten about me completely. I really did realise it. I was just…I didn't want to let it go just yet. I knew that if I met you, I would have to wake up from that sweet dream of a beautiful future and empty hopes. So I didn't came, and drowned myself in stacks of classic works instead.

And I waited, and waited, and waited.

The tree in front of my house is really, really old. It has been old ever since I was born, and I bet it was already old when my parents were still newborns. So one day, when I was climbing the rope stairs, the branch you tied it on broke with a loud crack. I fell down. I fell, fell, fell. Down to my beautiful garden.

And I was wheezing and coughing. Gasping and writhing in great pain. I could feel blood seeping through my pajama and my ribs stabbing my lungs. And when my eyelids and breath grew heavier, calmer… A miracle happened.

The darkness subsides, and I saw. I saw the beautiful dawn sky. The majestic golden sun and the golden, orange, and blue streaks on the sky. The beautiful puffy clouds, the sunlight lighting up the roof-tiles of various houses in our tiny town. The beautiful sunrise I was never able to see.

And there was you.

Sitting there on my roof, grinning at me so cheerfully. Your beautiful azure eyes under those pair of glasses were such a beautiful shade of blue. They shined beautifully and gazed at me with so much love and compassion. Care and fondness. Your teeth were glinting under the sunlight. They were white, just like those you would find in teeth products commercials. Your tanned skin wraps your muscular frame very beautifully. It looks even better than what I had imagined it would be. Your hair looks so smooth and beautiful, blown by the chilly morning wind. They were a perfect shade of blonde. It was beautiful.

I could feel tears on the edges of my eyes.

Was it an illusion created by my tired, dying mind? Or was it a gift by God, who finally felt guilty for throwing me into this tragical life? I don't know. I don't care. Because what matters is that you were there. And that I was finally able to see you, to finally know you even more.

And then the sun behind you exploded so brightly, so blinding.

And there was white.

White.

White.

White.

White.

White.

White.

(You really, really did forgot me, didn't you, Alfred? You really did. But it's okay. It's okay. I'll wait for you. I'm still waiting.)

A/N: Don't eat me! I already felt bad for writing this! ;A; It's really hard for me to end the story that way, so it might end up a little suck-ish. I was tempted to change it into a good end for a few times. Like, if Alfred ended up coming back from the city instead. Or if he finally come back one day after Arthur's death and finally remembers him... But no, I can't do that. The problem is, when I made this story, it was the ending that I pictured in my mind first. And then the rest followed. So it will get all weird if I change the end all of the sudden. P-Poor Arthur... *sobs*

Oh! Reviews are begged like cookies!