He never got to say goodbye, he didn't deserve to say goodbye. It was his fault that the American was gone. He was the one who began acting like a...bitch... There was no other word to describe it. He couldn't even remember what the quarrel was about, he really couldn't. Now Alfred was gone, all that was left was a grave and a emerald eyed blonde, standing silently at the head of said grave. "Alfred F. Jones. Beloved son and friend." That's all it read. It wasn't Alfred. Alfred wouldn't have wanted such a...Boring grave. He probably didn't even want to be buried. Knowing the American, he'd probably wanted to be cremated and have his ashes spread, to still be free.
The funeral was long over, yet Arthur was still there, on the verge of tears. He had been on the verge of tears for the entire service, but now, when it was only him at the grave, they fell. The tears were unwanted by the Brit, yet they were still falling. "Dammit, Alfred." He choked out. He could hardly see, the tears burned in his eyes, but other than sadness, that was the only thing he could feel, that and his heart shattering. He hadn't a chance to tell Alfred how he felt.
At least, Alfred was in a better place, where he didn't have to live up to society's standards and be the perfect person. Where he had to be the Golden Boy of everything. Be perfect at all that he did. Though, Alfred's life wasn't bad at all, he had a good life, he just hated the pressures of society. Though the pressures of society were relinquished from Alfred's shoulders, much earlier than they should have. Alfred was only twenty three, he still had a long life ahead of him. Had being the key word. Now, it's all over for him, it was over for him when he walked blindly into the street, not seeing the semi-truck coming his way. The last thing that Alfred thought about? Arthur. It was always Arthur, whenever he woke, whenever he fell asleep, his first and last thought always was Arthur.
"Alfred, I'm so sorry, " Arthur whispered. It didn't make a difference of how loud he spoke, the other was dead and gone, he couldn't hear the Brit anymore. "I'm so sorry, it's all my fault. I just wish that..I wish that you we're still here." Arthur truly did wish that Alfred were still there with him, but at the same time, he didn't. The American was free, he didn't have to worry about illness, money, death or the pressure of society anymore. He was free, and though it hurt to admit, Arthur was happy for him. He was happy for the American. Freedom was all Alfred ever wanted, and now he finally got it. Arthur smiled a heartbroken smile, his face turned upwards, facing the grey sky, that was threatning to pour down on him.
" You really are free now, aren't you Al?"
A/N: Sorry for the... I don't even know what to call it. Angst, yes, I'll call it angst. I'm sorry for the angst.