Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rights go to the respected owners. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I do not own the excerpt of Winston Churhill's speech used.

A/N: So many reviews! Really, I can't thank you guys enough for that! They really make me smile, each and every one, so thank you. Aside from that, in story news, now that Alfred's made his affection rather apparent, I'm going to be speeding the story up a bit. I don't want to rush, but we do have a whole war to cover. Enjoy!


January 15th, 1941 15:20

"Arthur? You okay?"

That quickly broke me from my reverie, as Alfred took and squeezed my hand.

"You've been doing that a lot lately," he said with a sad smile. "You sure you're alright?" His eyes were bright and waiting for a response.

"I'm fine, Alfred, no need to worry," I said and turned away. "I've just been thinking about things…"

"Things? What kind of things?"

I shrugged and glanced back at him, but my mind was elsewhere.

It's true I'd been thinking about a lot lately. Two weeks since another boy kissed me, and yet I wasn't quite over it. The initial shock was gone, but the confusion was still there. Alfred F. Jones had kissed me, on the lips, and told me he loved me. I don't know why, but I kissed back, and I actually enjoyed it. But still, that made for a perfect clutter of feelings and emotions to be scattered all over my brain. Part of me was so happy to have this person, this boy who could give me so much love and warmth, but part of me was still fearful. There was of course, the fact that Alfred and I were both male, but I don't think that was it. That's not what was causing my jumbled thoughts.

"Artie, you've been acting weird ever since… ya know. It's my fault isn't it?" he questioned, frowning.

"No!" I denied a bit too fast and bit my lip to keep from saying anything else. He stared at me perplexed, and I just looked away again.

By now I knew what was causing the majority of my dread and the clash of feelings. Since that first day, Alfred had been taking it slow. He'd send me loving glances, and grant subtle touches, and if his mother was out of the room, sometimes a peck on the cheek. This would make me blush, but more than that, I was now deathly aware of the warmth it would spread all over my body. That warmth is what I feared most. It probably sounds stupid, but I was trying my damn hardest not to return Alfred's feelings. After he kissed me that first night, I realised agreeing to this was a mistake. Not because I didn't care for Alfred, because I did, but because I didn't want to wear my heart on my sleeve. If I got close to him, my heart would be broken again, I knew it would. Even if it wasn't intentional, at the end of this war I would be whisked back to London, and Alfred would no doubt try and get back to America. We would never see each other again, and if I actually returned his love… god, that parting would be so much harder to do. How could I knowingly put my heart on the line when that was the inevitable?

"No, Alfred… it's not… it's not your fault."

He furrowed his brows unconvinced, then stood up from the couch. We were still holding hands, so when he stood, I was dragged upright as well.

"Come on. We'll talk about this upstairs."

I let him lead me upstairs, knowing full well what we were about to talk about. His mother had been in the kitchen, possibly within hearing distance from where we sat. If she heard about us… I didn't want to think about it. I had enough on my mind as it was.

Alfred sat me down on his bed, and then closed the door. He took a seat next to me and stared me straight in the eyes.

"Something's wrong. Before I kissed you… you at least smiled at me. Now all you do is blush, scowl, and do that weird thing where you get lost in thought."

I blushed and scowled but I answered him.

"Well you certainly have given me a lot to think about."

"But you said we could…" he looked down and then back up me with a poignant look on his face. "Are you changing your mind now? I don't want this if it's gonna make you unhappy…"

Alfred reached for my hand, but rethought his action and retracted it. Instead he just stared at me, waiting to be put down. I felt horrible… really I did, for making him feel this way. Somewhere my conscience was telling me to reach out and hug him, but my logical self was berating that thought.

"Alfred, it's not that I don't want this. I never said that."

His gaze turned a bit hopeful.

"But something's still wrong, I can tell. Is it me? Should I do something? Cut my hair, or try and grow a mustache or something manly like that?"

I giggled because honestly, I did find Alfred's antics adorable. He smiled a bit, but I could tell he was still serious; he wanted to know what was wrong.

"Please tell me, Art. Even if it's something awkward... or sexual, I'll try and help." He paused and glanced at his lap before looking back to me. "You're not starting to get excited… down there, are you?"

My flush grew to stretch all the way from my cheeks to the tip of my ears. I was completely mortified he had even said that.

"What? No, Alfred, nothing like that!"

He looked away shyly, dejectedly, and for a moment I felt bad.

"Y-you're not feeling that way are you?" I asked quietly, and Alfred's cheeks coloured like mine.

"N-no!" he said and threw a pillow at me. He was smirking and I when I caught it, I sent the cushion right back at his smart alec face. At least that awkward conversation had been avoided.

He smiled and sat back up, holding the pillow in his lap. Slowly the humour of the situation dissipated and I was left face to face with a quite serious Alfred.

"Well… I still want you to tell me what's wrong, Arthur. Please, I do want to help."

I glanced at him and then sighed. Would he understand my fear of being alone? The fear of having no one, as all of those you care about slowly disappear from your life? Would he understand that I didn't want to get into this only to lose him? God, I sound like a sap.

"Do you promise not to laugh?"

Alfred smirked as he stared at me.

"Oh, I see what this is," he said smugly and raised a brow. "You wrote me another poem didn't you? Well I can't help it if I'm the perfect subject for an artist's piece of work."

I grinned, and I couldn't help but smile as I slapped his arm.

"No, idiot," I answered and rolled my eyes.

He reached out, and this time gently took my hand.

"Alright… I was pretty sure I had ya there, but I promise not to laugh at whatever it is."

He squeezed, and I squeezed back. I averted my eyes so I didn't have to see the teasing look I was sure had to be plastered across his face.

"Al… it's, it's not that I don't want to have something special with you, because I do, it's just that…"

"We're guys?" he guessed, though he wasn't trying to be smart about it.

"Well yes and no, but that's not really what's been making me think so much."

I paused, and when I didn't pick up again, he nudged my shoulder.

"Go on."

I looked up at him, and he was watching me closely. I realised then he wasn't going to taunt me about my feelings; he genuinely cared.

"A-alright, well… ever since you kissed me, I've been thinking a lot."

He nodded to show he was paying attention.

"I… do like you. And I do want this to work, but… I can't."

"You can't?" he asked with a frown. "Why not?"

"It's going to sound silly to you…"

"No it won't. If you can't love me, I at least wanna know why."

For a moment I just stared at him. Those eyes were compassionate, but they were also desperately waiting for my reasoning.

"I never said I couldn't love you…" I mumbled, and Alfred lit up just a little bit. "I… just… this relationship can't work. It won't end well."

"What? Who says so?"

"Alfred don't play dumb," I said as our eyes were glued on one another. "You know just as well as me that once this war is over, I'll leave, and you'll probably move back to America and we'll just go our separate ways. I'm sure you'll find a nice girl, and have a family, and forget all about me. I don't… I can't start this when I know what the outcome will be…"

He stared. His eyes we're big and blue, but I couldn't read them this time. I had no idea what message they were relaying.

"Arthur don't play dumb."

"What?"

He sighed, and then started talking.

"How could you-? Why would you think that-?" he trailed off into silence. "Arthur, where did you get the idea that as soon as this fighting is over, I'm gonna hop on the next plane to the States?"

"Well… you always talk about America and I just assumed that-"

"Don't assume things. Even if this war ended tomorrow, I'm sure I'd still be stuck here waiting for everything to get sorted out," he hesitated then looked at me. "But more importantly, I'd be stuck here because I wouldn't want to leave you."

"Alfred…"

"No it's true. I don't know if this relationship will work, but I really, really want to try. Even if it doesn't… I'd still care for you because you're the best friend I've ever had."

I was completely silent and so he continued.

"I'm not gonna make you love me, that's not what I want, but you should know I'm not gonna leave you as quickly as you think. You'd have to be crazy to abandon someone you care for and love so much, in such a hurry."

He scooched closer and hugged me, and I knew he meant those words.

"So… please just think about that next time you're stuck in one of your bad-future-daydreams, alright? I'm not going anywhere."

He kissed my nose, and I buried my face in his shoulder.

That was the day I really fell in love with Alfred F. Jones.

February 9th, 1941 21:00

"Arthur you're taking too much of the blanket," Alfred said, as he swiped it off of me and wrapped it around himself.

"I am not!" I retorted and pulled harshly at the fabric. "Let go!"

He smiled knowingly at me before saying, "Oh? You mean like this?" and released the cover. He obviously had this planned out, since when he freed the blanket from his grip, I was pulling so hard I fell backwards onto my rump. The blanket gently feathered down on top of me, and I could hear Alfred snickering in the background.

"Boys, quiet down would you? I'd like to hear the PM speak if you don't mind."

I lifted the coverlet from my face and sat up. Alfred scooted closer and grabbed the blanket, this time laying it down evenly across both our laps. We were quiet as Mrs. Jones tuned the radio to find the Prime Minister's broadcast. He would be addressing the nation, and theoretically, would help to boost morale with a currently distraught public. Alfred and I actually managed to keep our mouths shut as we listened.

The beginning of the transmission was mostly some recognitions, along with some updates informing those who hadn't heard of our military victories in Africa, and the defeat of the Italians. I was happy to say the least. If we'd already had so much success in northern Africa and the Middle East, perhaps we could finish off the Germans and the war would be over by next Christmas; that would be so lovely.

"Hmm…" I heard Alfred mumble as the PM neared the end of his speech. I'd zoned out for awhile with my daydreams, but I managed to catch the end.

"We shall not fail or falter; we shall not weaken or tire. Neither the sudden shock of battle, nor the long-drawn trials of vigilance and exertion will wear us down. Give us the tools, and we will finish the job."

"I doubt that," I heard Alfred say, a bit dismayed.

"What?" I asked, and Alfred turned to face me.

"Weren't you listening? He talked about how you guys need supplies from America, but not troops. I doubt that's really the case."

I sat up straight and crossed my arms.

"Are you saying we can't win this war on our own?"

He stretched his arms out and yawned before answering me.

"Well… I don't think you'll win at the rate your going," he said calmly. "Britain already needs supplies from the States, how long do you really think they'll last without our men as well?"

I huffed indignantly and pointed at him.

"I'll have you know that it is not only Britain, but also the whole commonwealth fighting under the crown! And addition to that, France is by our side."

He shrugged and looked almost bored.

"I know. But France has already fallen, and none of those other countries are terribly strong."

I was angry now, Alfred's indifferent attitude getting on my nerves.

"What, so you think we're going to lose because we don't have strong allies? What about America, huh? Maybe this would end if your country would step in!"

That seemed to set Alfred off. He glared at me as he answered.

"Hey, I never said I wanted America to join the war, just that I think you'll need our help."

"Britain is strong. We don't need your help!"

"Oh really? Then why was your boss just begging for supplies over the radio, huh?"

"He wasn't begging!"

"Of course not. Britain was just asking America if they could borrow some sugar, and maybe 5,000 planes and 100 tons of ammunition. The British Empire's not what it used to be, Arthur. You just can't admit you need our help to win."

"How dare you!" I shrieked and stood up from the floor. "Insulting the land you're standing on right now!"

"I'm sitting, smart ass."

"You ungrateful brat!"

I was just about to tackle him when Mrs. Jones grasped my shoulder.

"Enough. Both of you; go to bed."

We nodded and silently made our way upstairs. Not another word was exchanged that night.

February 10th, 1941 16:15

I hadn't really planned on what I was going to do with Alfred today, but the moment I saw is face, my gut told me to ignore him. We hadn't spoke since the fight yesterday, and I thought perhaps Alfred would have come into my room and apologised for his words, yet he never did. So when we both slipped into the library for our morning lessons, neither one of us seemed to be over our argument, and neither one of us seemed keen on speaking to each other.

Mrs. Jones tried to get us to converse, but her efforts were futile. I was angry at Alfred for what he said, and even though I cared for him, my irritation seemed to temporarily override that. When she finally dismissed us that afternoon, I grabbed my coat and headed to the door.

"Where are you going?" he asked, annoyed, but there was something else in his voice. I didn't reply, but I opened the front door.

"Hey! I asked you where you were going!"

This time I did turn around.

"Oh? Are you worried I won't be able to manage a simple walk on my own? Am I too weak for that too, Alfred?"

I hissed the last line and slammed the door. Truth is, I didn't really know what I was doing, or where I was going, but I had to be away from Alfred for a few minutes. The tension in the library had done a number on me, and I just wanted some time alone.

The cold nipped at my face and fingers as I continued to walk on. I stuck my hands in my pockets and tried to bury my face into my jacket as much as I could. Even though I'd come out here to relax, I was still thinking of Alfred. Stupid, idiot, who didn't know when to keep his mouth shut. How dare he mock the soil I was born on? The soil his mother was born on? I didn't understand…

A cold chill came with a breeze that mussed up my hair. When I reached up to fix my fringe, I found myself in front of the tire swing, the very place I'd met Alfred. A wry smile covered my face, and I shoved myself inside the swing. This would be a perfect way to blow off some steam.

I grounded my feet, and then pushed off with as much force as I could muster. The fact that the wind was frosty and blowing in my direction slowed me a bit, but I continued with my angry swings.

"Stupid Alfred, thinking America is so much better," I muttered to myself. "Thinking England is weak… we ruled half the bloody world a few decades ago. We don't need America… we can win this war."

"Winning a war doesn't make you stronger, but asking for help does."

I stiffened but didn't turn around; mind you I was stuck in a tire, so I couldn't really have turned even if I wanted to.

He came around front, and stared at me. He'd put on his coat and a scarf before apparently following me out here. He looked at me, and tried to smile, but I just glared.

"Go away."

"No."

I took a few steps back, warning him I would swing, but he took no action. When I remained motionless, and he deemed it safe, he even came forward and bent down to face me.

"What are we doing, Artie?"

"I told you not to call me that, twit."

My insult bounced right off of him.

"Why are we fighting over this? There's already a war on, the last thing I want is a fight with my best friend."

I looked at the ground and let my hair cover my eyes.

"It didn't seem that way earlier. You were perfectly content to never speak to me again."

"Yeah well, I was being stubborn. Kinda like you're being now."

I didn't look up at him.

"Please go away, Alfred."

"No."

He grabbed my chin and made me look at him.

"Ya know what, Arthur? I may have said some stupid stuff yesterday, but I'm sorry. Sometimes I just get caught up with what's going on, and I forget what's really important to me."

I blinked, and waited for him to let go of my chin but he didn't.

"So, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean what I said about Britain, and I hope you forgive me. Allies can't win a war when they're fighting each other, right?" he said with a small smile.

"I suppose…" I mumbled, feeling my resolve breaking. I wanted to be angrier with Alfred, but that smile and the kind words, and those bloody beautiful eyes!

"That's my boy," he grinned and bumped noses with me. He then released my face and walked around back. "You wanna push?" he asked, and didn't wait for an answer before I felt hands on my back thrusting me upward.

"I didn't even say yes, yet!" I yelled at him, but it lacked any venom.

"Ah, so you were going to say yes then?" he answered, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

"I hate you," I muttered, and I felt him grab my waist, and stop the swing. He gently pulled me out and looked me in the eyes.

"You don't mean that."

He said it as if he thought he knew the answer, but wanted to make sure.

"No, Al, of course I don't mean that…"

He smiled, and started to lean forward. I thought he was going to kiss me again, but he stopped right in front of my face. He took off his scarf, and wrapped it around my neck.

"Can I make a preposition?"

"I think you mean a proposition, and yes, you can."

He leant back and I thought he was looking at me, but it took me awhile to realise he was actually staring beyond me, at the swing, and the tree, and the frost covered hills.

"If we ever have something really important to tell each other, can we come here?"

I glanced around uncertain.

"What, you mean use the tire swing as a meeting ground?"

"Yeah but… only for really important things like apologies or secrets."

His eyes were wide with anticipation and I wasn't quite sure what he was up to. I just nodded my head.

"Sure… I suppose that's alright."

He smiled bright and leant in again.

"I'd kiss you, but I'm afraid my mom might be watching us," he said with a dorky grin. My face flushed, but when I looked back toward the house, I'm fairly certain I saw a silhouette in the window. I turned my face back to him.

"So, you're no longer mad at me?"

He shook his head vehemently.

"No. Are you with me?"

I shook my head softly, and he grinned.

"Alfred…"

"Yeah?"

"Umm… your mom wouldn't see us off we went back to your room… and then maybe we could… kiss there."

He almost ripped my hand off, pulling me back to the house.

February 14th, 1941 10:45

Alfred brought me to the tire swing today and told me to wait there for a second.

"Do you have something important to tell me?" I questioned and he rushed out a "Yeah! Stay there, I'll be right back."

I sat down against the tree with my legs tucked up to my chest. I was getting cold, and desperately wanted Alfred to return. In addition to the chill, my butt had become wet from the frosty grass, and I was starting to get quite uncomfortable.

"Where is that idiot?" I murmured whilst rubbing my arms from the cold.

"He's here."

I looked up and found Alfred holding a single scarlet carnation. He sat down next to me and handed me the flower.

"It was the first bloom of the season, and, it's for you, valentine."

My face coloured as I brought the petals to my face and sniffed them. The flower smelled wonderful, mixed with the scents of the fresh air, and of the stupid boy beside me. I also couldn't help but think of my mother's garden… but now was not a time for sorrow and piteous memories.

"I really wanted it to be a rose, but they weren't ready in time," I looked up to find him smiling. "But… uh… my mom did tell me the meaning of a red carnation, and I think it fits pretty well."

He was rubbing the back of his neck and I could tell he was embarrassed.

"Does it? Well now I must know."

He hesitated, then looked down and started playing with some grass.

"Well the different colors have different meanings… like a white carnation is good luck, and a pink one might mean admiration or gratitude…" he trailed off again and I nudged him in the side.

"And the red ones, Al? What do they mean?"

He looked at me, and then back at the grass.

"Well... the red ones stand for… love and affection."

He peeked back up and I smiled at him. I'm sure my face was as red as the flower but it didn't really matter right then.

"…Well that fits pretty well doesn't it?" I mumbled shyly, but I knew Alfred heard because he answered me.

"Iloveyou…" he rushed out, but I still managed to catch it. He turned to me with a pink tinted face. "I wanted to tell you here… cause… it's important."

I felt the edges of my lips lift, and I reached out for Alfred's hand. We entwined fingers and smiled at each other.

The winter had been interesting. I'd learnt that Alfred fancied me and was stunned, but what surprised me even more was that… I'd come to terms with myself, and managed to reciprocate the feeling. Alfred made me happy inside, and I wanted to make him happy too. I was sure of what I was feeling this time too, since I'd even fought with him, and yet we were able to get over it and still have that magical warmth inside. A lot had happened in both the real world, and the little world I shared with Alfred this season, and because of it, I knew what I was about to say was true.

"Alfred," I said, and his attention came back to me, but I knew it had never really left. "I love you too."

And I would have kissed him too, if I wasn't afraid that his mum might be watching.