March 1, 2012

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.


It Was Then

He knew. He had always known, always tried to let me know.

Maybe I did know, but I just pretended not to. Pretended to be oblivious, ignorant, happy.

At those times, we both tried to think everything was fine, that we didn't need to care about it. All we needed was each other. I only needed to hold his hand, kiss his lips, pull him close. Then he'd never leave. He wouldn't have to. I'd keep him here with me, so that he wouldn't run away.

I sat with him in his house, watched movies with him, talked with him as his parents watched in the other part of the house. We would be in the living room while they were in the kitchen. Whenever I thought they weren't looking, I'd slip my hand onto Arthur's and watch him blush through the corner of my eyes. Then I'd hold his hand and feel his warmth on my skin. We were too conscious of each other's presence to pay attention to the TV. We didn't dare look away, though. His dad had suspicions. That was why he was going to send Arthur away. He was going to take Arthur away from me.

I'd smile politely and happily wish his parents good night as Arthur walked me out and down the street. His mother returned the smile, and so did his dad, though reluctantly. He tried to act normal to me, but I know it took a lot. I didn't mind. It was none of his business, so why did I have to care what he thought?

The night was cold. The moon was gone. Our pace slowed as we got farther from Arthur's house. The neighborhood was dark. It was probably 10 o'clock at night, but I didn't mind. We walked in silence, but I could tell Arthur had lots he wanted to say to me. I did, too.

My nose was turning numb and I barely noticed when Arthur hesitantly slipped his hand into mine. When I did feel it, I gave him a light squeeze. We didn't say anything.

We weren't even walking anymore as we got to the corner of the street. No one was out, possibly already asleep. He turned to look at me, his eyes soft and sad and strong. I reached out for his other hand and pulled him closer to me, pressing our foreheads together. That felt nice. Why couldn't we just stay like that? Why couldn't we do that without fearing the looks from other people and his dad?

I don't know how long we stood there for. I didn't care. I only wanted to be with Arthur, feel Arthur, know Arthur. That was all I wanted, but maybe I was asking for too much. I knew what Arthur wanted to tell me. I know what I should have told him. We didn't, though. We stood there, foreheads pressed together, breathing in each other's scent. Maybe we knew that might be the last time, but we didn't acknowledge it.

It was Arthur who finally pulled away. I looked at him, stared at him, silently begging him not to go. Don't leave me. I tried telling him to stay with me, that we could work something out.

"Good night," he whispered and let go of my hands. Our fingertips lingered against each other, until he stepped back and turned away. I watched him walk back, to his house, to his dad, to his life that shouldn't have had me in it.

Don't go, I thought. My mouth felt dry. It refused to work. "Don't go," I finally mumbled as Arthur's silhouette turned into his driveway. "Don't go…"

Days passed and I didn't go see Arthur. I couldn't bring myself to. I knew what I would have done if I did. I didn't want to face reality.

Months passed and I was living in a horrible dream. I refused to believe it was happening; it was all a dream. I was going to wake up soon and I would see Arthur looking down at me, his green eyes calming and beautiful. I was only asleep with my head in his lap, with his gentle hands petting my hair.

When I finally heard news of Arthur again, it was two years later. One of our old school friends bumped into me and started asking how I was. I really didn't want to talk to him. I never wanted to talk to anybody then.

He said a lot of things, but I didn't pay attention. The only words that caught me was when he mentioned Arthur. He knew what Arthur was doing.

"—yeah, so I heard he was going to graduate soon. He's already engaged! Can you believe it?"

I froze, not wanting to hear those last words. Arthur…Arthur, engaged.

"Hey, Alfred? You were close friends with him, weren't you?"

I nodded.

"We…kind of lost touch."

"Oh…well, I think I have a picture. Wait." He pulled out his smartphone and tapped. I didn't want to see. It already hurt too much.

"Here, look at that!" He shoved the phone in front of me, and I took it and looked. There was Arthur, even more handsome than he was two years ago, dressed neatly with his arms around a girl smiling brightly at the camera.

I stared at the screen, not even paying any attention to the girl. Arthur, it was Arthur. I noticed something off about him, though. I'd seen him smile like that before. He always had that smile when talking to his dad whenever I was around. It wasn't his real smile.

I felt relieved that I was still the only one who'd seen Arthur smile, truly smile. Or had he shown this girl? I wanted to find him, run to him, and pull him into my arms and shout for him to come back to me.

Where was he now? What was he doing? Did he still think of me?

Questions filled my mind and I felt my senses come back after being shut off ever since that night. I remembered everything that happened, how Arthur had brushed his nose against mine, looked deeply into my eyes. He seemed to be waiting for me to say something.

He wanted me to tell him to stay. He wanted me to confirm that he could stay with me. That he should stay with me.

But I didn't. At that time, I didn't. I had thought that I shouldn't pressure him into making his decision; I didn't want him to regret it.

Maybe I should have told him. Told him not to leave.

Maybe I should have pulled him close and kissed him, showed him the truth.

Maybe I should have fought to keep him with me...

...maybe, I should have tried harder.


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Thank you for reading!