Last day of January.../sigh/
Disclaimers: I don't own Hetalia or the song "Twelve Days of Christmas" but it was my idea to put them together! (Also, the letter, as stated in the chapter, belongs to John Keats.)
####################
Somehow, Arthur had made it all the way to work without Alfred trying anything. After their intense day of coloring, the Londoner really wasn't sure what to expect next—he just hoped he would like it. Then again, considering Alfred's track record so far, it'd be very hard for him not to, with maybe the exception of having condoms in his Weetabix. That'd just been crude.
So about two hours into his shift, Arthur was thinking so much about what could his boyfriend be trying today that Gilbert had to smack him upside the back of his head just to get his attention.
"Bloody hell, Beilschmidt!"
"Kesesese, it's your own fault for not answering to your own name when I called it three times in a row. Here," Gilbert was holding out a beer bottle that had some sort of paper inside it, "this is for you, Kirkland."
The Englishman looked skeptically at the bottle and his boss before taking the offered item. The German (Prussian!) man nodded and then turned back to their customers, apparently giving him permission to open it now.
Slowly, he opened the bottle and pulled out the rolled up piece of paper, almost continually glancing back up at his boss because the other was grinning again, and that was never a good sign, but he stopped when he began reading the letter…
'Dearest Artie,
I cannot exist without you - I am forgetful of every thing but seeing you again - my life seems to stop there - I see no further. You have absorb'd me.
I have a sensation at the present moment as though I were dissolving ...I have been astonished that men could die martyrs for religion - I have shudder'd at it - I shudder no more - I could be
martyr'd for my religion - love is my religion - I could die for that - I could die for you. My creed is love and you are its only tenet - you have ravish'd me away by a power I cannot resist.
Love,
Alfred the (Romantic!) Hero
P.S. I love you.'
Arthur couldn't help but roll his eyes at how sweet and totally copyrighted the note was. The only thing that wasn't copied directly from one of John Keats' love letters to his beloved Franny was the little "P.S." he'd left, but even that could be attributed to the movie, which they had watched only a few days ago.
Regardless of how unoriginal it was, the notion was romantic, and he had used an English author…
-Day Nine Continued-
Arthur Kirkland (23)
[Today 06:42PM]
Next time, Alfred, I would prefer you write me a letter—not John Keats.
Alfred just smiled as he read Arthur's txt and replied, 'u no u luv me artie'.
[Today 06:43PM]
When did I say otherwise, you twit?
The American laughed at the response and how typically Artie it was. He really couldn't wait until Christmas. It was going to be his favorite one yet.
Well, maybe. The year Mattie got him a collector's edition of all the old James Bond movies was still way up there.
#######################
A/N: There we go.
/sigh/ Four more chapters are scheduled. I've already started the next one, and I maaaayyyyy cut out the epilogue? Maybe. We'll see how Ch. 13 ends when I get there. I mainly just want the story to be symmetrical chapter-wise because I'm slightly OCD like that. I most likely will not get all of them done today, but I will try. Hence the making them short. It helps, besides this is just to be cute and fluffy, not an actual story. It's like a long one-shot. (Doesn't make sense? Try having written a 20pg short story. Tru fax.)
Congrats to the two reviewers who got my reference! It may be 20th Century Fox, but it mind as well be Disney in my book.
Here's hoping I'll at least get a couple more chapters posted today~
Review, review, review~
Also I'm listening to the Sex Pistols. I'd imagine they're like, Artie's favorite band. You know, besides the Beatles.