Thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed or subscribed to this story. It means so much to me. Here's the penultimate chapter, sorry it's so short!
Disclaimer: I don't own the Hetalia Axis Powers characters.
Alfred stood outside the door to his bedroom, trying to decide whether the prospect of facing Arthur outweighed the fact that it was half past ten and if he didn't go inside he'd be facing detentions for a week. Perhaps his roommate would be asleep by now? It was a thin string of hope, but it was enough to make Alfred tentatively reach out and turn the doorknob. Well, he thought glumly, here goes nothing.
Arthur wasn't asleep, of course, because that would just be too damn easy. Or so Alfred thought, as he stepped inside the room and found his feet frozen to the carpet. The other boy was lying on his bed, still fully clothed, facing the wall. It was not the sort of position that said, "Hey, roomie! Let's have a fun chat, then go to sleep."
It was, in fact, more the sort of position that said, "Fuck off, I hate you." Alfred sighed and walked over to his own bed as quietly as possible. He sat down, facing away from Arthur's back, and eased off his school shoes. Then an unmistakable voice asked him, somewhat bitterly, "Aren't you going to say anything?"
Alfred swallowed nervously and turned around to face his roommate. The other boy was sitting cross-legged, his arms folded, his expression unreadable. The bruise around his eye had matured to a deep purple shade, almost black, that made Alfred feel vaguely nauseous. "I- what do you mean?" he stuttered.
The words hung in the air, scared and cowardly. Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly. "I kissed you," the boy said, "And you ran away. Then, I saw you laying into the guy who beat me up. And then you hide in the common room for four hours. And you're not even going to talk about it?"
There was too much emotion in Arthur's voice. It was too raw, too broken, too accusatory. Alfred couldn't stand to look at him, so he let his gaze drop to the blue tufts of the carpet. "I- There's nothing to talk about," he mumbled. Arthur snorted, a sound full of derision and scorn. "Well, that's just about the biggest lie of the fucking century," he muttered.
When Alfred finally forced himself to glance up at his roommate's face, the first thing he noticed was the sadness. Arthur's expression was just heart-breakingly… unhappy. There was really no other way to describe it.
"I had a go at Bonnefoy because he deserved it," Alfred gabbled, "He- he's a bastard. He hurt you, and that made me really angry. Angrier than- angrier than I've ever been. So… yeah. That's… that's why." When the words had finally tumbled, awkward and unsure, from his mouth, his cheeks burned with embarrassment. Arthur was staring at him with an almost pitiful expression. "I'm going to sleep," the younger boy finally sighed, and reached up to turn out the light.
Alfred found himself, once again, lying awake in bed. Except this time, it was for a completely different reason. Inside his head, a whirlwind of thoughts was swirling around, refusing to be quietened. Why had Arthur kissed him? Why had he run away? Did- did he enjoy it? Should he have stood up to Bonnefoy? Was- was he gay?
"I didn't run away because I was disgusted," Alfred whispered into the darkness, "Or because I was angry." It was so much easier to talk to Arthur when he was asleep than when he was awake, glaring at him with those poor bruised eyes. "I ran away because I was scared. I- I was so… unsure.
But now… I realise that I've probably ruined everything. That there will probably be no next time. But if there was… I wouldn't run away again." Unseen in the darkness, curled into a ball of duvet, Arthur smiled.