Ok everyone, I'm so sorry that this chapter took so long to put up. I don't really have a good excuse but here it is: I had midterms, three group projects, a crap load of homework, an essay for English and French class, Championships in Winter Guard and during spring break was in a place with no Internet. There that's my excuse. But it took a lot to write this chapter, I wanted to make sure it was cool 'cuz it's the last hoorah of the story! And I had my friend edit the grammar so that should be better. But here's a cool fun-fact for ya!
There is no 'National Language' in America!!!!
Wikipedia told me that… Bet you didn't know that no did ya? Well, anyways, here's the last chapter
Arthur hissed as he placed the cold compress against his hand. It was red and starting to swell up and there was an ache that started in his knuckles and seemed to run up his arm. He frowned at it and thought: maybe I shouldn't have punched him so hard.
Arthur had been shocked to say the least. There was a person in his kitchen... cooking his food... on his stove... with his frying pan and spatula... using his gas. But that wasn't what had him frozen to his spot. But said person was oblivious to Arthur's presence at the door.
After the initial shock passed, Arthur began to take everything about the person in and began comparing him to his memory. The strong shoulders that seemed to show even through the loose tee-shirt, the long legs that enabled the person to tower over him, the tan skin that always held the kiss of the summer sun, all of what used to be was there. He watched the person move about his workspace with knowing grace, the way the person's well built arms and hands move about the food. He watched the way his golden hair had a particular warm glow in the sunlight that spilled from the window, the warmth made him think of wheat fields in the summer.
He was almost sure now. The person's movements and the pitch of his hum resembled him so very much, but he couldn't be sure that it was him. He couldn't see his face. Arthur began to feel the warm prickle of tears come to his eyes.
No! Arthur mentally scolded himself, I won t cry anymore! So Arthur became what he couldn't become in all those months when he wasn't here. He became angry. He felt months of frustration flood his body and his muscles twitched for something.
Then the cook who had broken into his house and was cooking his food turned around. Green eyes met sky blue ones and, just as quickly as it came, Arthur s strength left him leaving a hollow feeling. At first nothing happened, their eyes just stared at the other and their bodies were frozen in place.
Then a slow, timid smile spread across the persons face.
"Hey Iggy, how's it going?"
With that Arthur was snapped out of his reprieve and dropped his gaze to his still bare feet, anger coursed through his veins and his face flushed a brilliant shade of red. He still couldn't move however and the excess adrenaline caused his body to tremble.
The man took a step forward and was looking at Arthur in concern. "You ok?" He asked with an anxious voice.
Arthur's head snapped up and he glared at the taller man, who, in receiving the deadly look, rocked back onto his heels. That very stupid question was the key that unlocked Arthur's movements. The smaller man charged across the tiled floor his hands clenching into fists. As soon as he was close enough Arthur pulled his arm back and swung at the man with all his might.
Arthur punched Alfred.
The force of the punch caused Alfred to lose balance and stumble backwards, falling to the ground. He lifted his hand slowly to his now injured cheek and looked up at Arthur slightly bewildered. If he was concerned before he was now slightly panicked. The smaller man was no longer looking at him but at his feet, shaking violently, from what he could see, his face was completely red. It was a frightening sight but Alfred couldn't help but think that Arthurs red face was cute, despite the fact that said cute person had just decked him. Maybe I'm a sadist... he then realized that Arthur was saying something.
"Umm... Could you repeat that please?" Alfred asked hesitantly.
"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK?!!!!!" Arthur shouted. "I'VE BEEN LIVING IN THIS GODDAMND HOUSE THIS WHOLE ENTIRE FUCKING TIME!"
Alfred shrank back against the outburst; despite all the years they spent apart after the Revolutionary War, he would have to admit that when Arthur was pissed he could still be intimidating as hell. He watched as Arthur seemed to at least try to reign in his anger. Arthur didn't look like he was winning. Alfred decided that it was for his own well being to remain on the floor instead of getting up and risking the chance of being punched again.
Arthur felt like he was having a mental breakdown. Why is he here?! He has to be completely stupid to believe he can just come back like that. GODDAMNIT!
"How could you just leave like that?! Just what do you think I am, huh?!" Arthur could feel the prickly sensation of tears in his eyes again. He knew that a whole sob fest was going to happen soon, but the tears weren't because he was sad. Quite the opposite actually. Arthur couldn't understand why but for some reason or another he was so damn happy. He was happy Alfred was there on the floor; his evil side was happy he was experiencing pain for making him wait so long. But overall he was all together happy that Alfred was there.
But he'd be damned before he let Alfred know that.
"How the bloody hell could you just do that to me?!" Arthur paused then, glaring down at the blond man still on the floor, trying to calm his breathing which had somehow become hurried pants. Maybe you're hyperventilating, some remote part of his brain commented.
Arthur dropped his gaze to the floor. "Do you have any fucking idea what it was like?" His voice broke on the 'it'.
Alfred was speechless, to say the least. He wanted to say something that would clam down the angry Brit. But his brain had decided that it didn't quite know how to manage his situation, and thus rendered him unable to form sentences, let alone words. He just stared, completely dumbfounded, at the trembling form above him for a good long moment, trying to get a grip on the chaos in his head.
After what seemed like forever, all Alfred's brain could come up with was one word, and what a word it was. But it felt somewhat overused, and his brain silently cursed the English language for being inefficient.
"Sorry."
And with that the flood gates opened. Tears streamed down Arthur's face and his legs gave way to the weight of gravity as he sank to the floor. Sobs racked through his body and he buried his face in his hands. All the pent up stress, the sleepless nights, the dreams of the night he wasn't able to fall straight into a dark oblivion, the loneliness that plagued his waking hours, all of that flowed down his face.
And there they sat, on the cold kitchen floor with the smell of breakfast in the air. Alfred watched the smaller man cry. Eventually, he let go of his sore cheek and got on to his knees and crawled over to Arthur. Hesitantly, mostly because he didn't want to get hit again, he reached his arms out and he grasped hold of Arthur in an embrace.
Arthur was no longer terribly angry, but he had half a mind to push the blond man away. But then again, it had been a long time since he had last been held, so he buried his face in the crook of Alfred neck and let his sent overwhelm his senses instead. And he let it all go.
"Where were you?" were the only words that came through the sobs.
Alfred closed his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows. A small frown found its way onto his face and he held the small man tighter.
"I'm sorry." Was all he could whisper back.
An hour must have passed before Arthur calmed down to the point where his sobs became soft whimpers. He did, however, feel completely exhausted. An emotional outburst really took a lot out of a person, but he felt that he could relax now and that everything would be ok. Either way, he was tired. To the point where he couldn't really think or move for that matter, all he wanted to do now was sleep. Alfred realized that Arthur was almost half asleep in his arms and lifted both of them off the floor, carrying Arthur over to the couch in the living room. There he laid Arthur down, using one of the many couch cushions as a pillow.
Arthur's eyes remained closed as Alfred situated himself on the floor. He crossed his arms and placed them on the cushion by Arthur's face. He reached his hand out to Arthur's face and his fingers lightly brushing the delicate tears that remained on Arthur's cheeks. Even after the tears had disappeared and the whimpers were replaced with shallow, even breaths, Alfred's fingers lingered on Arthurs face, tracing senseless patterns across it. Eventually his hand cupped the others face so that his fingers rested in the Arthur's soft hair.
"I'm sorry" he whispered to the now sleeping English man. "I promise never to leave you again."
Alfred watched Arthur for a long time after he said his promise, searching for some sign of recognition; some type of subconscious movement that told him that Arthur had forgiven him, he supposed. He wasn't quite sure what to look for though, and when nothing happened he gave a deep sigh.
That caused Arthur to stir, and the Brits eyes gradually blinked open. Alfred stood from his spot as Arthur did from his. Arthur moved his hand to rub his eyes but when the hand made contact with his eye Arthur gasped.
"Ow." Then he remembered that he had punched the American in front of him.
"I'll go get an ice pack." Alfred said and left the room.
Arthur watched him leave and a frown formed on his face as his eyes dropped onto a magazine that was on the coffee table before him. Oh great, I just had a mental friggen' breakdown in front of the one person I didn't want to…
Arthur's thought was cut short when the aforementioned person walked back into the room with ice pack wrapped in a towel in hand. He looked up and watched as Alfred made his way to him. When Alfred reached him, he held out the compress without meeting his eyes.
"Here," he said simply.
Arthur took the cold object and looked back down at the coffee table. "Thanks," he mumbled out.
A very awkward moment occurred as Alfred stood next to Arthur, not looking in his direction. Arthur wasn't exactly making it any better either. He just glanced around the room and avoided looking at the man still standing at his side.
"I…" Alfred started, but he seemed to lose his nerve and continued with a hurried, "I'll go make you some tea," and left the room again.
Arthur's green eyes followed the man out the room, and he dropped back down onto the sofa when Alfred vanished behind the wall. Good lord, this is going to be both awkward and hard. His mind wandered over what happened this morning and he felt his cheeks warm when the memories of his outbreak passed through his mind. Needless to say, Arthur felt extremely embarrassed and slightly peeved at the fact that his resolve was so week.
When a rather cold droplet of water feel onto his wrist he promptly remembered that there was a compress that needed to be put on his hand.
Arthur hissed as he placed the cold compress against his hand. It was red and starting to swell up and there was an ach that started in his knuckles and seemed to run up his arm. He frowned at it and thought: maybe I shouldn't have punched him so hard.
…The bastard deserved it… Arthur's mind decided. It's not my dam… his thoughts were interrupted yet again when a high pitched whistle sounded from the kitchen. Arthur realized then that he had to stay calm and get some answers out of Alfred. By the time Alfred walked back into the room with two steaming cups Arthur was already planning on what to say.
Alfred placed a cup of yellowish liquid in front of Arthur and decided to sit in one of the arm chairs instead of standing awkwardly again. Arthur noted that the American had taken the chair situated on the left side of the couch, as opposed to the one on the right. His mind also noted that it was the farthest Alfred could get from Arthur without being flat out rude. But Arthur still took slight offence to it. Maybe I'm over analyzing things.
The ticking of the grandfather clock sounded louder than ever. Everything was so still it was almost hard to breathe. Just the intake of breath had the loudness of a train wreck to Arthur. It was unnerving, so he lifted his eyes off the table and slyly looked over to Alfred. Why won't he say anything?
Little to Arthur's knowledge, Alfred was wondering the same thing. His fingers inconspicuously fidgeted with the hem of his shirt as he looked everywhere in the room except at the assumed angry British man on the couch. He wanted to sigh, break something, jump up and do some activity, or just… well something to shatter the silence that filled the room. But he knew he couldn't. He knew his… actions were a serious matter and nothing could lighten the air until he was forgiven. But he couldn't help thinking that the heavy atmosphere was unbearable. If only I knew what to say.
While Alfred was preoccupied on how to speak, Arthur observed his counterpart. He could tell Alfred was nervous as hell, due to the fidgeting of not only his hand, but the constant shift in his body. His legs would change position on the floor; he would slouch and then sit up straight, he nibbled on his lip and his eyes were constantly moving everywhere. I'm going to have to start this, aren't I? Arthur sighed heavily.
The sudden release of air caused Alfred to jump, and for the first time since Arthur had woken again, he looked at him. Their eyes connected and he stopped fidgeting.
After a moment Arthur placed the compress on the coffee table, then leaned forward and rubbed his face in his hands and sighed again.
"Well?" was all he said.
Silence for another moment then "Well…. What?" The American replied in a small voice.
Arthur felt a small vein pulse in his head; "Well, where were you?" he tried again.
"Where… oh, um everywhere… I suppose."
"You suppose? Where is 'Everywhere'?" Arthur asked again his voice was just ever so slightly strained.
"Umm… everywhere… in America?" It was as if he was afraid to get a wrong answer.
"And?"
"… And?" The tall blond repeated.
"Why where you 'everywhere'?"
"I… well… I was… unsure."
Arthur felt a twinge in his gut, unsure of what? Their relationship?
"About what?" Arthur asked quietly. He didn't really want to ask that question, and his mind kept going over the possibilities of Alfred's answer. But he knew if he was going to get any answers or… any closure… he needed the information.
"…" Again, the language that was used the most in his country was useless.
"W-well?" he hated the fact that his voice was trembling.
It was Alfred's turn to sigh and rub his face then. He leaned all the way back in the chair so that his head rested against the back. He was silent for a while as he though about how to sum it up in words.
"Well, let's see…" Alfred said after thinking quietly, "I think I was… unsure of myself."
Arthur stared at him and his mouth hung open.
"How can you be unsure of yourself?! You're the fucking Untied States!" was what he shouted at him.
Well, at least that's what he WANTED to shout at him. He didn't get the chance to because Alfred had started talking before he could say anything.
"It was right before my economy dropped. Something just felt, I don't know, off. I felt… Ugh, how do I say this… Well, I just felt wrong; I don't think I can describe it."
Arthur didn't quite know how to respond to this so he opted to keep quiet and wait for the continuation, which did happen after a short while.
"I felt angry. Mostly because I didn't know how to change it, and it felt like no matter what I did, I couldn't do anything right… And while I was feeling… off… I could tell it was bothering you, but I didn't know how to change it.
'Something felt wrong in my country, it was like the people were restless about something that was… unknown. On the day that I left, it had gotten to the point where I just couldn't stand it. I just… had to leave."
Alfred stopped talking after that. Somehow, as Arthur was listening, his gaze had wandered back to the tea and compress that were in front of him. He honestly didn't know what to think, it all seemed too unrealistic… but as a fellow country he knew that sometimes these things happened. He remembered points in his history where he felt restless and had to go out and be amongst his people. But still, he was slightly unnerved that Alfred hadn't told him before.
"I'm sorry."
Arthur's eyes went back to Alfred, the younger nation was staring at him.
"I know… I knew I should have told you, but I just couldn't."
Goddamnit... Arthurs eyes were stinging again.
"I really am sorry." Alfred said earnestly, Arthur felt his throat close.
When Arthur didn't say anything Alfred sighed and dropped his head. Well…It was worth a try. He stood up then and headed back to the door.
Arthur's eyes widened when the other stood and followed the figure across the room. He's leaving again! Do something!! Arthur's mind shouted at him. DO SOMETHING!!!!
"Wah-WAIT!" Arthur shouted and launched himself out of his seat, reaching his hand to the man across the room.
Alfred froze in his spot.
"…" Arthur felt like crying again and his hand slowly retracted to his body. "W-ho said you could le-leave." His voice was trembling.
Alfred turned his head back to Arthur.
"Y-you ca-can't leave." Arthur said in a small voice. He felt warm tears slip down his face. His body trembled and his face was flushed. He can't leave… Arthur squeezed his eyes shut.
Then he felt arms encircle him and his eyes snapped back open. Arthur was confused for a seconded then he felt a new wave of embarrassment crash on him.
"I'm sorry!" Alfred said.
"L-let go." He said as he tried to wriggle free but much to his chagrin the arms just tightened further. Eventually he gave up trying to break free.
"Go-Goddamn it." Arthur muttered as tears streamed down his face and soaked Alfred's shirt.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He mumbled. "I won't leave." He promised.
"How do y-you know?"
"I won't leave, I promise." Alfred said that with such a conviction in his voice that Arthur was finding it hard to doubt him. So after a few sniffles and Arthur was back in control of his emotions, he applied a light pressure to Alfred's chest indicating that he should let go.
Alfred got the message so he lessened his grip on the older man but refused let the man leave his arms. Arthur sighed and looked up at Alfred's face. There was an emotion in his eyes that he couldn't quit place. It was a concerned look that held a tinge of guilt but it had so much hope in it.
"I can't forgive you." Arthur said. He watched as the others face fell and the look of a wounded small animal entered his eyes.
"Therefore" He continued slowly, then paused as Alfred looked at him curiously, "you need to stay here and make it up to me." Alfred's face did a complete 180. He had a small smile on his face and he felt as if something had loosened inside of him then swelled up. He felt chocked up and couldn't say anything at all.
Suddenly Alfred was hugging Arthur again but this time tighter than he had before.
"Thank you. I promise." Was all he was able to get out. Arthur smiled, then returned the embrace.
"I'm glad you came back."
-End-
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