Okies, so this one took a Long time, but it is the longest chapter I've ever written for a multi-chapter story. So enjoy! I also got bored late at night, so now I have uploaded videos on my youtube account. I'm mistamie96.
http: / / www. youtube . com / user / mistamie96 ? feature = mhee Yep, remove spaces. they are amv videos.
Anyway, here is the chapter.
Okay, first entry. 'kay…what to write…
Well, um…here goes.
So, after making a horrible wish two days ago, I have literally started losing my mind…like, my memory, and it is selective…I may be able to remember where I put the keys, but not what Arthur's phone number is…and Iggy…well, I'm not so sure how he's taking this…he hasn't said much of anything lately…
Arthur sat there, looking anywhere but Alfred, who was across the room, writing in that little book. He just couldn't really believe this.
He remembered how he'd walked away from Alfred to go into the farmer's market. The hurt…it had pierced him to the bone. He'd not wanted to believe anything was wrong, that Alfred was being forgetful… or that he'd cheated…he'd been in denial, claiming that the guilt was causing him to forget….c'mon, who was he kidding? What cheater lost their memories? And Alfred?
Alfred, the child who'd broke the barriers around his heart, his innocence and caring taming the pirate in him, his place for solace. Alfred, the boy who'd fought for his freedom, twice, now that he thought about it, once in the revolutionary war and then again in the war of 1812…the revenge war, as England saw it…when he couldn't understand how America was doing so well…on his own, without England, the thing Alfred had told him was holding him back…
Alfred, the man he'd pined after for years. The man who'd gotten drunk one night before Arthur had gotten to the bar to share drinks with him…who had grabbed Arthur by the collar and kissed him as passionately as any drunk man could. And Arthur had kissed him back, unashamed…till Alfred passed out against him.
Arthur still remembered the next morning, when Alfred had woken up on Arthur's couch, his hangover immense. Arthur had tried a subtle approach that morning.
"You do very strange things when you're drunk."
Alfred had looked at him, sorely puzzled, a look of pain and fogginess dulling those beautiful blue eyes. "What did I do? I don't recall anything."
"Oh, you rambled on and on…and then you…um…" England had thought of that kiss, remembering how he had felt the blood rushing to his cheeks, and how he'd turned almost as red as Lovino. Alfred, for once, noticed…and dammit, he was hungover!
"Oh god, whatever I did, I am so sorry, Iggy! You know I would never hurt you…you mean too much to me…" Alfred then promptly turned red himself, the hangover making it so the words he was saying had never even taken a pit-stop at his brain. The worst kind of word vomit.
Arthur had snapped around. "What? Alfred, it sounded like you ju—"
"I love you…, ok! There, I said it! Whatever I did, whatever unwanted advances I made, I am truly sorry…I probably ruined last night…you don't return the feelings, you—"
"Alfred, you just kissed me, then passed out cold. No harm done. It was a pleasant exchange…you practice kissing?" Arthur had a smug grin on his face, watching as Alfred processed everything at half speed. "Anyway, if you had ruined last night, you just made it ten times better with those precious three little words…"
Arthur remembered it all fondly, a sad smile coming to his face. Alfred still loved him…had always loved him, his love simply changing over the years.
But Alfred had turned his back on this love, even for a moment… Alfred, who was over there, now asleep, the book open in his lap. He found himself kissing Alfred on the forehead, before standing up, but not before he read the open page.
I'm not sure if Arthur will ever forgive me for what I've done…but I would take this back in a heartbeat…I'm a horrible partner…maybe she was right…love is a battlefield, we always must fight for it…and for Arthur, I'd fight the hardest…
Arthur smiled a bittersweet smile, having to turn away, the tears now coming to his face.
He quickly walked away from the sleeping American, up to their room, sitting on the bed. The sobs ripped out of his throat.
It had been a long time since he'd last cried, thinking his tear ducts had long ago shriveled and gone with the end of the blitz…and it was then, at eleven o'clock that night, that he realized that no matter what was going to happen, he was going to try his best to help Alfred, to save him or to at least let him go in peace. He was going to have the patience of a monk, something, even as a gentleman, he'd never mastered. But he would for Alfred.
He loved Alfred, and although they weren't married, and couldn't be married, till death do they part had always been a clear thing in his mind towards Alfred. He was going to take care of Alfred in sickness as he had in health. He was going to do this.
Wiping the tears away, he got up, and went downstairs to get Alfred to come upstairs to bed. He was going to make Alfred happy through this all, or at least try his darnedest.
"Alfred, spoons are in that drawer."
"Right, thanks Arthur! What are we having for dinner?" Arthur felt a wave of sadness flood over him. This was the third or fourth time he'd been asked this question, Alfred not retaining it.
Alfred could be extremely clear and responsive, or he could be as he was now, wandering around the kitchen looking for spoons when they were having pizza delivered, and Arthur had asked him repeatedly to come and sit down on the couch with him.
"Alfred, we don't need spoons…" His American walked out of the kitchen, a look of lost on his face.
"Is this my house?" Alfred looked at him curiously, and Arthur stiffened. A light was gone from Alfred's eyes.
"Of course it is. What made you think any different?"
"I don't remember being friends with any British people. What is your name?" Arthur felt his heart tear at the seams.
"Alfred, its me, Arthur! Don't you remember?" Arthur walked up to Alfred and took his hands. Alfred made no move to reject him, so Arthur stood on his tippy-toes and kissed Alfred's cheek. "My god…please remember me… I can't lose you yet…"
Arthur had tried everything in his spell books, staying up late every night. He'd gone through everything, curse removal, memory renewal, luck…nothing seemed to work. If he were to lose Alfred now, without time to figure something else out…he didn't know what he'd do.
Arthur felt Alfred pull his hands back out of Arthur's loose grip, but to his surprise, felt an arm snake around his back and pull him tightly into Alfred, pressing him flush against the tall American's body. The other hand took hold of his chin, pulling his head up to look into Alfred's blue eyes, which were now once more bright and glowing.
"Beautiful, kind Arthur. How could I have ever made such a wish? Arthur, I never should have had that stupid argument with you about shoes…" Alfred pulled Arthur into a kiss that was passionate and desperate before Arthur stiffened with a gasp.
"Alfred, you told me you couldn't remember what we argued about…"
"Shh…Arthur, I have no idea what has happened since then…this moment might not last long. Oh, Arthur, there have been so many things that I have wanted to say to you…I have been trapped in my own mind for the past five days…that journal, it is the only way I can make sure to say everything that I must. I love you Arthur…don't you ever forget it…but when I'm gone—"
"Alfred, you aren't going anywhere…"
"Arthur, we both know a lie when we see one. Arthur, if I am no more…I want you to move on. No matter what, your happiness is all I care for. Please, promise me to watch over everyone I can't when I'm gone…"
"I love you Alfred! I don't want you to go! We'll find a way! You'll see!" Alfred reached up and wiped a tear from Arthur's face as he broke down and buried his head into Alfred's chest.
"Don't live in the past when I'm gone…" Arthur held onto Alfred with all his might. This was his Alfred, from before all this happened. He looked up once more to see Alfred look up at the door, the doorbell ringing a second later.
"Ooh! Pizza! I love pizza! Pay the man, Igg!" And like that he was gone, a stranger left behind in his place.
"Ok, Alfred, you know where we're going, yes?"
"The world meeting…yeah Arthur. And you know not to mention anything to anyone…" Alfred was mostly there right now, but not as he was two nights ago. Alfred had been telling him not to tell anyone, because they'd think him weak. Arthur hoped Alfred would stay this clear for the meeting, it would save them both pain.
They walked into the conference room together, Alfred looking around him, that leather book held tightly to his chest.
Arthur had started clipping little notes into the pages opposite Alfred's entries, little pictures, a sentiment, stories…like how they'd met, when they'd gotten together, how he loved him. Alfred hadn't said anything, but he'd noticed Alfred's shocked expression, and the occasional tear, wondering if it was because of what he'd wrote, or the fact that maybe Alfred could no longer remember what he was talking about. That journal went everywhere with Alfred.
They walked the corridors, Alfred straying a few times, forgetting the way, Arthur there to tug him back. Alfred would just smile, then walk on.
They finally reached the conference room, Arthur turning to check Alfred over, fixing his tie and smoothing down his hair, avoiding Nantucket. Then, after giving himself a once over, he opened the conference door, grabbing Alfred's hand as he went, making sure he was following.
Almost everyone was already in there, sitting in their seats or having conversations near the front of the room. Sighing at the amount of people in the room, he tugged Alfred to two empty seats next to each other that had their names on them.
"Hon hon hon! We've let Arthur become the dominant partner in the relationship, oui?" Arthur's annoyance levels shot way up. France wasn't going to live in his skin much longer.
"You litt—"
"Bonjour, monsieur! Tu parles anglais bien! Are you from Fr—" Alfred was quickly elbowed in the ribs, and he gave a cough. Damn, he didn't recognize France…does he even recognize anyone but me?
"Amérique, what wonderful language you speak! Do you use the langue d'amour to speak to Arthur? So kinky of you…" France was cut off by a fist in the face as Arthur let go in a fit of anger. How dare he take advantage of Alfred like that, even if he doesn't know about the condition. His French face is annoying enough to make this justified!
Alfred looked questionably at Arthur, who simply pointed at his seat, and Alfred sat down. France got up from the floor and walked away to his seat, seeing as Germany must have had a hand in the seating, putting him between Italy and Spain…and far away from Arthur.
England looked down at a confused Alfred, and feeling bad for him, opened up the little journal, found pictures of the countries and wrote down explanations under France's picture. He didn't even like looking at photographs of the Frenchman, but this embarrassing one from that Christmas party was still amusing after all these years, Sealand with his fist in France's face after France made some advances. Then Sweden went after him later on, and now France always flinched when looking at the Scandinavian couple and their adopted son.
Alfred read through the description of France and relaxed.
"Sorry, Arthur, I was gone for a moment there…"
Arthur smiled his now frequent bittersweet smile, telling himself that on the bright side, Al had come back, and that that in itself was a gift. "It's all right luv, you are back, and still with me, nothing else matters." Arthur sat down in his seat and took Alfred's hand under the table.
"Artie, you won't leave me…right? You'll stay with me till the end, right?" Alfred's voice was as quiet as a whisper, his eyes downcast and pleading.
Arthur squeezed the trembling hand in his and smiled a true smile for once, although sadness still clouded his eyes. "Alfred, I will never leave you, my love is unconditional. In sickness and in health…"
"Thanks, Arthur, you have no idea how long I've been worried that you'd…that you'd leave me…because I was stupid, impulsive, reckless…"
"Alfred, stop berating yourself. In all honesty, I was very upset and mad at you in the beginning…but do you know why? Because I couldn't stand to lose you, still can't, but as I promised, we'll do this together. Now, smile, or people will start wondering what is up with you." Arthur saw that lopsided grin he'd fallen in love with spread once more on his lover's almost fully aware face. Smiling back, he watched Canada enter the room.
Canada held onto his bear as he walked into the room, watching a very large potted plant follow him. He stopped in the doorway, then causally whispered to his right.
"Gil, they aren't going to notice me, but a moving potted plant that swears loudly in German when it knocks into walls, that I believe they will notice."
"" (roughly translates to "mmmhghhhmhh no, they won't)
"Yes they will, and get your head out of the plant, I can barely understand you with all that grumbling and dirt. I won't let you trash the hotel room with dirt and leaves…again." Receiving no answer, he sighed. Of course, he'd fallen in love with a weirdo…an 'awesome' German one, but a weirdo all the same. And knowing why Gilbert was banned from these meetings didn't help his anxiety at all…
Realizing that for all intents and purposes, he was talking to a plant, he straightened up, and continued into the room, spotting his brother in a sweet-looking conversation with Arthur, the way the two of them were smiling at each other. Huh, no fighting...Alfred probably is trying to convince Arthur to have sex with him after the meeting…immediately blushing at the lewd thoughts, he realized he was thinking in a French kind of manner on first sight of the couple.
He walked over to Alfred, a small smile on his face. "Hey, Al. How have things been?" His seat was next to Alfred's, so he sat down, putting down his bear, causing Italy to run across the room to scoop the animal away, cooing at it, asking who its owner was…he'd have Gilbert rescue Kuma later.
Alfred smiled at him, looking a bit distant and startled at the question.
"I'm sorry, who are you?" Canada's eyes widened. Alfred, sure, he always pretended to forget Canada, pretending to be stupid and unobservant to get out from under the Canadian's radar at times, it eventually becoming a joke between us, but Alfred hadn't forgotten who he was since…sometime during World War II.
"What?"
Canada saw America's mouth open, the question to be asked once more, when there was a shattering sound behind them.
"Scheiße!" Prussia had run into a wall, shattering the pot he'd been hiding in, and somehow, though Canada couldn't fathom how, was moving around in. Now he was sitting with the huge plant in his lap, covered by dirt, Gilbird flying 'round his head.
"Whoa, look! That plant just had a man-baby!" A certain man from Denmark was struck on the head.
"Man-baby plants were invented in Kore—da ze—" South Korea was muffled by a certain Chinese man. Canada walked over to Prussia, a look of irriatation mirrored on Germany's face as well as his.
"Hey, birdie…er…Canada, West!…I think I'll go now, and spread my awesomeness…"
"Bruder…what. Are. You. Doing. Here?" The anger was clear in the German's voice. Matthew spoke up.
"Gilbert, go back to the hotel, and stay at the hotel. And you better not mess it up, or so help me…" Canada talked in such a quiet, dangerous tone, and Prussia immediately sensed that the Canadian right now was more dangerous than his brother, and he got to his feet and scampered down the hall and out of the building. Canada turned back around at the situation with Alfred.
"Alfred, what did you mean with…"
"Hey, Mattie, how are things with you and Gil lately?" And he turned back around, Arthur looking off in the distance, a leather book in his hands.
Canada wasn't sure what had happened, if he'd just imagined it…but the pained look on Arthur's face threw him off for a second, watching as Arthur reached desperately under the table for Alfred's hand, and when they met, both held on as if their life depended on it.
What's wrong with Alfred?
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