He needed him like he needed to breathe.
No one except him knows how he feels. No one knows what he wants, no one knows what he needs like him. He knew his crooks, he knew his buttons, he knew his emotions, he knew everything.
And Arthur never wants to let him go.
They lay together in a soft bed that they had broken in so many times before and had always kissed and touched each other on. Its soft and their smells have mixed, so Arthur always knows Gilbert is his and vice versa.
There is an eerie silence because Gilbert had said something that Arthur didn't like listening to.
Gilbert stared at him, but Arthur gritted his teeth so the knot in his throat held and the tears bubbling in his emeralds wouldn't drip down his freckled cheeks.
Red eyes that looked like flames behind snow blinked gently at him. The albino was silent and weary and tired and Arthur hated that he was like that.
Years.
Years and Years and years of ache and pain and sadness and pills and alcohol and so much fucking tears had brought them to this moment in time where everything was being held by a thread that was called Gilbert's sanity and Arthur's willingness to give completely into the man beside him.
He was a lifeline to a sinking immortal life that would never stop sinking and never stop aching him.
"Arthur..."
He never called him by his real name, he never dared. It was too formal, it was too uncharacteristic of the narcissistic man with tendencies to forget that other people had feelings. It was nothing like when he said it as the cat eyed man gently kissed love bites and he whispered it; no that was different.
That was love, this was...
He doesn't know what this is.
Gilbert blinked. Those long fluttering things that he called his lashes catching a small shine in the man's eyes. Arthur knew that silence was one of the worst things that anyone could ever do to the albino.
"I...Gilbert I..."
Arthur said it through gritted teeth, as he felt that if even one movement in his jaw would end up in horrible sobbing fits that had only happened when his baby boy walked away from him.
And now that he thought about it, this hurt more.
God, so much more.
His heart was shattering, slowly and steadily. And as it beat in his chest he could hear the cracking of glass and the gentle pain that blossomed as he breathed, as he blinked.
"Arthur, please say something."
"I'm not letting you go."
Arthur said gently, and he felt tears rush down his face. His chest was suddenly heaving and he turned over, avoiding the flames that were eyes and the beauty emanating from something so broken and perfect.
He sobbed and cried and shook and he knew that for all that Gilbert was worth and for all that he knew how to do, this wasn't something he could fix just by telling him it would be okay.
Because, Arthur knew what the albino just said was true and that soon enough...
Gilbert gently touched his back as the briton screamed and cried and sobbed into the pillow that smelled like his lover and he knew, god he knew that one of these days that smell would be the only thing keeping his heart from completely tearing.
Gilbert had never seen him cry so hard, he'd never seen him break as much as he saw him that afternoon. He'd never seen him in so much pain.
And only the truth could ever hurt someone so much.
So he pressed his head against the back of his boyfriends neck and wrapped his arms tightly, holding him as he shuddered and cried so hard, Gilbert thought that he'd pass out.
But, slowly... ever so slowly the sobs turned to cries, the cries to sniffles and sniffles to hiccups. Gilbert held him as he shuddered and the cries stopped. And he gave into the radiating warmth and love that had wrapped itself around him for years and kept him together.
And soon enough that would be gone.
So Arthur gently rubbed his thumb against Gilbert's forearm.
And he fell asleep.
He woke up with no one in his bed. He woke up with cold, he woke up with anger, with sadness, with pain, with despair.
He woke up to no one.
Arthur knew that he wasn't there, and he wasn't going to be there.
He got up slowly, dread filling every step as he moved and he pulled two cups (one... one cup...) and made tea, sitting down and sighing as the steam rose up.
He knew it. He had always known that there was a chance that he would leave. He had been naive to think that that wouldn't happen to him. He loved him to much and he knew that the way that things ended up for the briton, that he'd end up aching for the younger man.
He sipped his cup and stared at the window, seeing it fog up.
There was a squeak and across the window "I love you" spelled out.
And England closed his eyes and cried.
Because the once nation he had been in love with was nothing but a memory that he could only have as a dream.
He had felt so real.
He had been perfect.
He had felt him kiss him and touch him.
But like all dreams.
You had to wake up from them.
And for reasons that everyone and no one would understand...
England didn't want to wake up from him.