A/N: Hello there. So! This is a deeper, longer version of a story I wrote for my Literature class in school. We had to write a story using five quotes we could choose from a list in a whole page. It was really interesting, and I really liked what I came up with, even if my thing usually isn't drama… Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia Axis Powers.
Sour Cherry
She had left on a summer day.
It had been one of those stifling hot afternoons— with no breeze flowing at all and the sensation that everything around him was melting slowly under the sun. Arthur would always attribute the blind rage he had felt to that heat surrounding them so mercilessly. It was the only somewhat sane explanation he had for a fight so harsh with the woman he loved the most.
The hurtful words had flied between them like daggers and arrows in the form of loud screaming and yelling, until his beautiful island girl —could he even call her his now?— could not take it anymore, and slapped him. His cheek still stung whenever he remembered it. He recalled being unable to react at first, too shocked by that sudden action of hers, even if he had deserved it, and she had taken the opportunity to run upstairs and lock herself in the bedroom.
He did not go after her. Maybe, he should have. Maybe, Arthur mused, that was what she wanted all along. Instead, he had just stayed in the kitchen, almost compulsively devouring the cherries she had abandoned during their argument in an attempt to calm himself down as he listed down all the reasons why he was right this time in his mind. He, however, had never liked the taste of the little red fruits, and it only made him more nervous than before.
It was several hours later when the brunette came back out, this time with a suitcase. Arthur's heart sank to his stomach swiftly as he realised what it meant— he had never seen her so determined in her life as in that moment.
The man tried everything to convince her of staying, making her remember all the good times they had once shared, all the dreams and hopes they had, all the plans they had made, the life they had built together for so long— this petty argument, and all the other ones like it, were only a rough patch they would be able to withstand. They just needed to be together and face it.
She did not give in.
"We just don't love each other anymore, Arthur!" She exclaimed between shaky breaths, her gorgeous green eyes —or were they brown, maybe hazel? He could have spent entire days just staring into those bright orbs of hers, trying to decide— shining with unshed tears, like a starry night sky. Her whole body trembled with choked sobs, but she did her best not to actually break down. "We're just hurting each other by keeping this charade up! Just let me go and move on with your life. Stop torturing yourself. I promise you, you'll be much happier without me here, okay?"
She tried to smile at him sadly then. Arthur wanted to say that no, he would not be happy without her and could not even fathom moving on with his life, because she was his life, and the sole idea of losing her chilled his soul— yet, nothing managed to come out of his mouth, and all he could do was watch her leave, frozen on the spot.
He watched her walk away down the street until she hailed a taxi and got in it, disappearing from his sight. The man ran a hand through his blond hair and looked around his neighbourhood, the weather not so warm now in the twilight of the day. He blinked away tears and took in a deep breath.
After a few moments, Arthur turned back to the house, trying to ignore how his body now felt like it was made of concrete and how painful pressure he felt on his chest.
"She'll be back," He mumbled, more to convince himself than anything else. "She always comes back."
Despite his dislike for cherries, Arthur did not mind their flavour so much when it was on her. She, on the other hand, all around adored them— her favourite were sour cherries.
He bought cherries for her long after she left, for the whole of what was left of that dreadful summer and well into fall, until that kind of fruit was nearly impossible to find. And just like finding cherries, with every day that passed, it was harder to keep the hope that she would come back alive.
Still, he did it. He kept his life moving as if she was there, only gone from their home to run long errands or visit a friend. He ate the cherries himself to taste her lips once again, and pretended it was her giving him kisses of greeting, good morning and good night.
He also took on the habit of drinking and going to pubs. He even became regular enough to make himself drinking buddies. A loud German and an explosive Dane, neither minding him complaining about the nagging girlfriend he did not have, as long as he heard their meaningless woes of little brothers, cute Italian boys, Swedish bastards and snarky Norwegians as well.
He was aware that had she known he was having this kind of past-times, she would not have been pleased. If he closed his eyes after drunkenly stumbling into his house, he could almost see her there— standing on the end of the stairs, pouting at him, demanding an explanation for his tardiness and his bitter smell, scolding him for worrying her and slipping into French as she cursed him…
It made something akin to happiness swell in his broken heart.
In the middle of winter, he finally saw her again.
It had been a harsh season, made all that much colder by the empty side of the bed next to his every night. His loneliness was slowly killing him, and Arthur did not do a thing to stop it. He could not bring himself to care enough.
But still, when he had seen that the only thing left in the fridge was a frozen package of sour cherries, he had decided to go to the grocery store with the incentive that had she been there, she would have rewarded him with loving kisses for being so considerate of buying everything they needed.
They ran into each other in the park, right outside the shop, both stopping dead on their tracks to stare at the other with wide green eyes. However, while all the company Arthur had was a plastic bag, she was with another man.
Another man, who was about his same height and just as blond. However, the differences between them were much more, starting with the other's blue eyes, to his slight stubble and the air of arrogance and playfulness surrounding him. And she was clinging to his arm, making the seed of jealousy swiftly grow within Arthur.
He disliked this man instantly.
"A-Arthur!" The brunette girl exclaimed, smiling a bit shyly and awkwardly while she took in his appearance after so long. Arthur did not know what she saw— however, the pity that flashed through her face was enough to make him feel self-conscious and ashamed. He blushed reflexively. She had always known his reactions to the detail, so to smooth the conversation over again, she widened her smile and continued, "How have you been?"
"I… I've been fine." He answered, feeling torn on whether to smile back or stay as blank as possible. "What about you?"
"I've been fine, too." A tense silence settled between them, as they looked over at each other again intensely, trying to understand what was on the other's mind, like they used to do. Fortunately —or not?—, the other blond man cleared his throat in the most elegant way Arthur had and would ever hear.
"Aren't you going to introduce us, mon cher?" He asked with a distinct accent and barely-hidden superiority. Arthur felt his dislike grow. He was French.
She snapped out of her trance with a nervous grin and tucking a strand of chocolate hair behind her ear.
"R-Right! Sorry, sorry! Well, Francis…" She motioned over to Arthur. "…This is Arthur… An old friend. And Arthur…" She motioned over to Francis. "…This is Francis."
She paused for a moment, then spoke up again in a quieter voice. "He's my boyfriend."
Hearing that was as if someone had driven a sharp knife through his heart and twisted it, though Arthur suspected that would hurt a whole lot less. He attempted to smile and be happy for her, but he could barely breathe. He knew she had noticed and it killed him to have her see his grief. Despite all, he still had pride.
After exchanging some more word of cold chit chat, he excused himself and left in a hurry.
He was not fast enough to escape from overhearing the little conversation that arose between Francis and her afterwards.
"Who was that, chérie? An old flame of yours?" The Frenchman wondered with amusement and a tinge of jealousy.
"Yes," She answered softly. "But it's a flame that was put out a long time ago."
Arthur sprinted home, tears stinging his eyes the whole way. He ransacked every cabinet of the kitchen, looking for maybe some tea to calm his nerves, but all he could find was the box of frozen sour cherries.
He did not wait for them to be warm before he was shoving one into his mouth, devouring it despite the ice surrounding it. He supposed it was like kissing her again— it only gave him pain. But he did not stop.
Had she not been happy? Happy families, the blond reckoned, were all the same. Perfect parents, perfect children, perfect home, perfect everything. It disgusted him. But unhappy families were all unhappy in their own way. He had been happy in the world they had created, even if most of the time things had not been even close to being about rainbows and butterflies. He did not mind anything, as long as he had her. Had it not been that way for her as well?
Arthur understood now that she was really gone. And she had no intention of coming back to him.
He spitted out the pit of the cherry and left for the pub.
Once spring came around, she decided to visit him.
Lately, she had been worried about him— friends in common had told her he had lost his job and that now, he never came out of the house.
Even if they were not together anymore, she still knew him better than anyone else. She knew this was not normal behaviour with Arthur. And whenever she remembered the last time they saw each other, she only seemed to get more reasons to be concerned.
And after fighting for many nights with Francis over what Arthur truly meant to her, she had a lot of things to discuss with him.
Going in was not easy at first— nobody answered the door and Arthur, true to his distrusting nature, had locked it. She surrounded the house a couple of times, thinking, until she remembered where they kept the spare key. Surely, Arthur had not moved it, and thankfully, her suspicions were right.
She went in and gasped at the state of her former home. It was messy and dusty, looking so abandoned it made her stomach churn. It did not seem like Arthur at all.
But then again, she smiled sadly to herself, who am I to say how Arthur is like now?
The woman looked around the house, noticing how it now was much more his than hers. She supposed it was only natural, but it still shocked her to see it. It finally sunk in that she had left a long time ago, and it was as if someone had squeezed her heart painfully. She sighed heavily.
She missed Arthur. There was no doubt about that. She just did not know if she was in her right to miss him at all.
Finally, she went into the kitchen. That was where she found him, sitting on a tall chair, sprawled over the island, seemingly asleep. She chuckled, finding him adorable. But her laughter did not last long— he was much thinner and paler than she remembered. Had he been eating right? She noticed a bowl of cherries next to him.
That was when she understood he had not forgotten her. She bit her lip guiltily. Maybe, she had been too harsh when they broke up. She had let her emotions dictate her actions, and now, she was not so sure it had been the right decision.
That was why she was here. However, she needed him to be awake so he could hear her out.
She shook Arthur gently, not getting any reaction from him. Frowning, she shook him again, more strongly. This time, he rolled over and fell down to the floor, making her cry out in surprise. "Arthur!"
She ran over to his side, kneeling down next to him and moving him again to try to see how he was. When she saw his face, she screamed in horror.
It had probably been an accident. That was what the police said, once they finally made it here. But all the attempts to calm her down did not work. She felt this was her fault, solely her fault. She could not stop crying and stammering apologies.
Arthur had choked himself to death with the pit of a sour cherry.
A/N: Well… There you have it. I feel the ending was too rushed, but after experimenting with other endings, this was the one I liked the most. Anyway, give me some feedback so I can improve this if you feel it needs improvement :) Thanks for reading and bye!