Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters here. Except for possible oocs inserted here and there.
Arthur wasn't exactly the type of person you'll see with a smile on his face. Although there were times that he did feel genuinely joyful, those days were long gone. Those memories are tucked away inside the very dark corner of Arthur's mind. Forgotten, covered with cobwebs, and surrounded by dust bunnies.
With a stretch and a cracking sound from his back, he proceeded to look at the mirror right across his bed. His mop of blond hair from his younger years have changed into a mess of silvery-white ones, wrinkles have settled themselves on his forehead, and fine lines appeared here and there. He looked just as old as any vintage objects out there.
Normally, Arthur would have stood up and made his way into the kitchen for some tea. However, he wouldn't be able to do so anymore. In fact, he hasn't been able to do it for many years for Arthur Kirkland is now bedridden due to old age and a crippling irreversible disease. The image in front of him has been the only scenery he's familiar with, with the exceptions of books and whatever he can do in his bed. Everything inside his house that needed maintenance was taken care of by Mary, his housekeeper.
Last night, Arthur ordered for the petite girl to dig up something that 'has been waiting for him' far too long. The said girl entered his chamber with a chest nestled in her hands. Its wooden surface rotted away and the intricate design along its outline didn't look so elegant anymore. All in all, it looked old and torn just like Arthur. He extended his slightly shaking arms towards Mary, silently asking for the chest to be given to him.
Arthur was known for keeping lots and lots of things for memories' sake even though his house might end up exploding from all the objects stuffed in it. Among all those things that are important, it would be the chest. From his childhood days until the last few days wherein he wasn't bedridden, different objects with memories were stored inside it. But oh no, that wasn't the only reason for its importance. It wasn't only the Brits memories stored in it but also the memories of a man with the name Alfred F. Jones.
He opened the lid carefully, its rusty hinges creaking along the way. Little bits of dust flew to the air and the smell of old wood filled Arthur's nose. On the very top of the pile of various objects was a handkerchief but Arthur will mind it later. For now, he wanted to reminisce his earliest days with Alfred. With that, without one sign of hesitation, he lifted the chest and gently turned it upside down. Arthur coughed at the small cloud of dust that came with his actions as Mary watched at the sidelines. Her face distorted into a mass of wide eyes, open mouth, and raised eyebrows in horror. Considering Arthur's current health condition, it was bad for his health to inhale that many dust. Also, Mary knew that the chest is important through Arthur's descriptions of it every time he tells a story about it despite being vague. Arthur just flipping the said object was out of Mary's knowledge about why.
Arthur ignored Mary's horrified gasps and searched for the oldest object he could find. He stopped abruptly when a thought struck him like lightning. The oldest object was not in the pile, it was the one he was holding: the chest. Arthur straightened his body and looked at the chest for the nth time. It certainly changed through the years and was not pristine and clean like it was before. Ah, he remembered the days. He and Alfred were still so juvenile and oblivious to the things happening around them. So innocent...
So there you have it! I hope I've made this story justice with this prologue. And I hope this urges you enough to read the rest of the chapters later. I am sorry if there are mistakes here and there. I assure you I have checked this chapter thrice already hahaha.
Well, until the next update! (Which is a lot longer than this chapter by the way)