A/N: Okay so this idea's been running through my head for a week now but it just doesn't seem to work as well on paper and came out more like rambling. But, I really, really wanted to keep my promise to my Valentine :, YouMakeMyHeartJiggleLikeJello. It was a grueling process getting these two things out but here you go, darling, I love you and I promise you better things in the future xDD
With Only the Rain to Keep Me Company
It's always raining in London town but…
The sky is a dead steel grey, layers of monotone clouds shifting against each other, heavy with the rain that is bound to fall and drench the town of London. Despite the tragic weather, thousands of couples flocks toward the streets, determined to celebrate Saint Valentine's Day.
Most were in pairs, huddling beneath a single umbrella while those left alone scowl on their way past. But England stands alone, still, with a matching charcoal suit and expressionless features. He had worn a pink tie for the occasion, not that it matters to him. It is just another rainy day in dreary London town, after all.
A low rumble thunder overhead and it is certain that the first drops of rain would fall in a just a few moment's time. Arthur's knuckles turn white as he tightens his grip on the handle of his plain black umbrella that had seen a thousand storms. It doesn't feel right to open it just yet. He was England after all; rainfall was nothing new to him. Maybe he feels the need to feel it on himself for once, instead of underneath a black dome, watching it cast spots of shadows across his chest like empty holes.
A girl shrieks to his right, a high-pitched giggle escaping her pink lips as she slaps a hand over her forehead where the first drop had fallen and England opens his umbrella, just in time for another to splat right next to his worn leather oxfords. He watches as the girl's boyfriend sidle up to her with a pink umbrella and a bouquet of flowers, trading it for her suitcase.
Arthur's heart thunders in his hollow chest. The rain falls harder.
He doesn't look out of place, a little ways away from the famous Heathrow International Airport. A man in a charcoal suit and a black umbrella, perhaps waiting for an acquaintance. Perhaps waiting for someone special to bring back home.
But he wasn't because he had no one waiting for him.
Another rumble rocks the sky, but this time it wasn't accompanied by any flashing except for a bright white jet leaving a bright white trail in its wake. Arthur follows it with his dulled eyes but it disappears into a grey cloud before he can spot the telltale airline.
It is the eleventh plane to take off into the brewing storm since his arrival, with no intention in mind besides plane-spotting, people-spotting. And wrecking his good suit.
But it is as if with every Boeing 777 that takes off into the dulled skies, a part of his heart follows, stretching it thinly across the seas and oceans and millions of kilometers until it threatened to tear itself apart. He clench his fingers over the chest of his suit, wrinkling the ironed fabric as if that would prevent his heart from throbbing so painfully.
The rain continues to drum against the roof of his umbrella, drizzling over the edges and soaking his shoulders, just the slightest bit.
But dark always looks darker on black and black is just depressing.
With a sigh, Arthur glances over, just as another couple walk out, hand in hand with smiles as big as the stars and stripes adorning their matching hoodies.
And his chest constricts painfully and his throat clenches up. For a second, he thought he'd stop breathing, but then it was over.
Arthur isn't a prick. He doesn't care if Francis was dating his third girl of the week or flirting with the fifth bloke of the day, or if Feliciano and Ludwig were cuddling instead of taking notes. He isn't one of those people that wreck relationships just because they were alone.
No, he was alone but he isn't bitter about it. He has been alone for a couple of centuries and thousands more before that. It wasn't a big deal.
So why does his eyes keep trailing after pairs of people, linked through the arms, the shoulders, the fingers? Why does his chest feel as hollow as the sound of raindrops overhead?
He spins on his heel, his freezing hand faltering and the umbrella slips, just the slightest bit and the rain drenches his side, quick as lightning.
But he ignores it and continues his brisk pace because the airplanes were flying away, leaving him tired and alone with only the rain to keep him company.
Except—
"Hey, England,"
The voice is familiar, but it isn't its usual loud laugh. It wasn't the sun that refused to peek out just yet.
Arthur doesn't turn, afraid that if he does, only the sounds of his name would be left behind. Because it was surely an illusion, a figment of his—
"I'm right here," He huffs, a little less mature and Arthur is suddenly dropping his umbrella, fingers grabbing onto forearms that fit around his shoulders a lot better than right angles should.
"I didn't think," Arthur cuts himself off, eyes glancing slightly upward and his breath catches in his throat because Alfred was smiling.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Arthur. I love you."
—that the rain has already stopped falling.
…not today.
Notes:
There is a GIF to go with this *gasp* Yes! My first GIF (can be found at my dA~[atomish. deviantart. com] or art tumblr~[heyatom. tumblr. com])!
Please excuse the awkward tenses 'cause I changed it in the middle of writing and I can't really breathe at the moment xDD Corrections would be awfully helpful!
Hope you have a happy Valentine's Day, spending it with the ones you love (like me and mine~ : I love you, Bri! Lots and lots and lots!)