It couldn't be helped. The atmosphere between the two had started to change. Arthur could feel it. Bloody hell, the changes were almost palpable in the air itself! It was thick as if a dense fog was always in the room. But the subject the fog surrounded was something he couldn't broche. Try as he might, if the subject ever did arise Alfred would dance around the subject till the conversation was circling around a different topic.
It hurt Arthur. It hurt like hell, knowing that something was progressively becoming worse for Alfred. It hurt the fact that Arthur couldn't help him. If he could help him Alfred would have probably came to him, talked to him, heck—maybe even left clues to what the hell was wrong if he couldn't talk. But Alfred had remained silent. And that, he supposed, was hurting him the most; the fact that he had remained silent. It felt like a sharp stab to his heart whenever Arthur tried to help. Maybe Alfred didn't want his help.
Well bullocks! If Alfred didn't want his help then that was perfectly fine. He was grown up. He could solve whatever bloody problem he encountered on his own. It was just fine with him… just fine. It WAS fine, damnit! In fact Arthur didn't want Alfred's problems. He had his own things to worry about. He was the personification of the Great nation of Britannia for God's sake! He could be worried about every little thing the twit did. Least… that was what he thought. He still remembered that morning, the morning of Alfreds' unexpected departure.
He had woken up in their bed alone. Which should have tipped him off that something was amiss from the start. However, he had been too preoccupied with his aching lower back, the previous nights' rather unexpectedly lively activities making themselves known on his body. In fact, just the thought of last night sent a warm pleasant flush across his body. Then he caught sight of his wrists, which were indeed turning a lovely shade of purple and blue, and gave a sigh. But his wrists were of little consequence and Arthur was smiling all while he dressed himself.
After making himself decent he left the bedroom and walked out of the room. On the way he noticed that all presence of Alfred was missing from their little home. He gravitated toward the kitchen only to find it empty. Arthur opened the refrigerator in hopes that Alfred had perhaps left some breakfast in there for him. At first when he noticed there was nothing in there that looked freshly cooked he sighed. Then he started to grumbled, Alfred had promised him to make all the meals when he was over. On the first day when they started their living arrangements Alfred had mad him swear that he would never cook over at his place. He agreed to it only if Alfred made his meals himself.
Arthur grumbled some more. It by now was apparent to him that the blasted idiot had left early without leaving him food. So he made the only breakfast he knew he could make that didn't involve appliances; he grabbed the jug of milk shuffled over to the pantry and grabbed a box of Raisin Brain and a bowl and plopped himself down on the kitchen chair. He didn't really like cold cereal. He preferred his morning meal to be warm, but he would keep his promises to Alfred and not cook in his house despite there not being a hot meal ready for him, most likely than not the bloody git had anticipated returning home before Arthur awoke.
He was almost done with his bowl and about mid chomp when he heard the front door open and close softly. Placing his spoon in his bowl he got up from his seat and went to the kitchen door. And there was Alfred, shrugging of his heavy winter coat and dusting the light snow off his cloths and person.
"Hey." Arthur called leaning against the door frame. With that Alfred looked up, albeit a bit startled that Arthur was there.
"Hey" he called back in a dull voice. Arthur felt a twinge inside. The man was still feeling down. His brows furrowed a slight bit. The man was still in that state after last night. The small annoyance that had been previously forgotten due to his good mood began bubbling in his chest.
"Where were you this morning?"
"Out." Alfred responded as he walked past him into the kitchen. He went over to the coffee maker got out a cup and poured himself some of the strong brew.
"Care to elaborate?"
"No"
There was an uncomfortable silence that hung in the air. This wasn't the first time Alfred had decided not to share to what he had been up to. The man in question then sat down at the table, one leg resting on the other with the knee propped up along the edge.
"Sit" the man told Arthur.
He hesitated at the door, entertaining the idea of ignoring his request. Then he slowly straightened from his position on the wall, and crossed the small space slowly with slight hopes to annoy Alfred. It didn't seem to work. So he sat down opposite and crossed his leg's and his arms over his chest. All the "good feelings" he had previously were gone, just the annoyance in his chest and a slight anxious feeling in the caverns of his chest.
He looked up at Alfred. The twit was staring down at his coffee with a melancholy look on his face. It was heart wrenching. Something was going to happen; he could feel it in his old bones. And he had a stronger feeling that he wasn't going to like it.
"Well? Would you like to explain yourself or wait until you've bore a hole in your drink?" his annoyance clear on his tone.
He looked up then and Arthur felt his heart stop. The expression his face created was one of guilt; an awful knowledge was in those eyes. It was as plain as day what was going to happen but all Arthur could think of was No.
"I've decided…" He started then stopped and looked back into his beverage.
There was the silence again, but this one was as suffocating as it was uncomfortable. Arthur opened his mouth but sound refused to come out. The words were stuck in his throat as if he had just took a swig of Matthews Maple Syrup.
"Wha-what have you decided?" he said in a small trembling voice.
Alfred looked up again, straight into Arthurs eyes. The sadness was still there but there was something else there now, something looking a helluve a lot like determination.
"I've decided," he repeated "that I'm leaving"
Arthur stared, his eyes wide in disbelief and confusion.
"You're leaving?" he repeated slightly confused and unable to let the meaning of the words sink in.
"What do you mean 'you're leaving'?" he asked again a tremble in his voice.
"Just what I said," Alfred was staring straight into his eyes, unwavering. "I'm leaving."
"Why" Arthur asked after a lengthy moment.
"I can't stay here, I feel like I've lost my sense of self."
"Your sense of self? What the hell do you mean?" Arthur asked as his voice raised an octave.
Alfred leaned his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.
"Your leaving me." Arthur said quietly as the horror dawned on him. Good God. That was it, wasn't it? He doesn't want me. "That's it isn't it? You don't love me" his voice got smaller and he started to tremble as he voiced his fears
"No!" Alfred said. "I want you to understand," he said slowly, "I do love you. I truly do, but I don't know who I am right now. There's something I need to do. I don't know what yet but I can't stay here."
With that he stood up and headed toward the kitchen door.
"Wait!" Arthur shouted as he lunged out of his seat and grabbed for Alfred's shirt and slammed into his back. "Please wait." He asked softly.
Alfred turned around and enveloped the smaller man in a hug.
"Please don't leave." He whimpered in Alfred's ear. "Please"
Alfred moved his head and placed his lips softly over Arthurs. It was then he remembered something, an expression Alfred had made last night. The kiss he was receiving had the same feeling that the look from last night had given him. A sense of hopelessness washed over him and his eyes started to sting. There was nothing he could do and he knew it. He had felt it coming from days ago.
Alfred removed his lips from Arthurs effectively ending the kiss and rested his forehead against Arthurs, eyes shut. He closed his eyes as well and sighed.
"I can't stop you can I?" he whispered. Alfred didn't respond for a while.
"I'm sorry" he said quietly and he let go and turned out the door.
Arthur's eyes snapped open once he felt Alfred's warmth leave him. He was frozen for a minute. It was like his brain had suddenly stopped working. Then he heard the front door open and that seemed to snap him out of his frozen state. He dashed out into the hall way and saw Alfred at the open door with his back turned.
"Wait!" Arthur shouted again. Alfred didn't turn around but he did pause.
"Come back to me." He said weakly. Then in a stronger voice he didn't know he had he said "just come back. Please, someday just come back."
Alfred paused for a moment longer. Then he walked out and closed the door.
He was gone. The stinging in his was just unbearable then and Arthur started to cry.
Hello! This is my second ever Fanfic finished and the first one up on the net! So any comments would be welcome cuz I'm a little nervous! And I'm sorry this chapter is such a downer but I had to write it. I had spent the previous night reading Alfred and Arthur Fanfics and in the morning I had the strange urge to listen to the song Come Back to Me by David Cook and I thought that the song depicted England and America amazingly and then I got the urge to write so I did! . I think that this story will only have two chapters. So please comment it would be a mager boost for my writing confidence!
Disclaimer: I own nothing, sadly , so that means I don't own the characters of Englad and America… or the song. I'm just barrowing them
