Alfred stood underneath a huge willow tree with a worried Englishman watching him from the garden gate. It was a sunny afternoon unlike any other. Yet…something seemed off.
"Alfred? What are you doing in my garden?" the British man asked, walking up the path lined with rose bushes. He was in the kitchen making tea when he spotted the American in his garden.
The American was silent, shockingly. His left hand pressed against the bark of the trunk. Arthur walked up to him and tenderly placed a hand on Alfred's shoulder.
"Alfred?" Arthur asked again. He moved in front of the taller blonde. The American stayed quiet, as if he didn't notice Arthur there. Arthur brought his hands up to cup Alfred's face, but still there was no response form the American. Arthur's hands started to tremble, worry filling his green eyes.
"You kept it…after all these years…"Alfred whispered. He seemed lost somewhere far in his mind.
"Alfred, what are you talking about? Are you alright? Have you gone mad?" The British man said, his hands going to Alfred's forehead, checking for a fever. He gripped Alfred's shoulders tightly in his hands and shook him. "Please Alfred, sit down you don't look well."
Alfred stood there numb to the world. His gaze was far and distant, fogged by thoughts. It felt as though his world was spinning, but all he wanted was to be somewhere familiar; like the garden he grew up in.
"Alfred! Oh, bloody hell! Alfred you're hurt! Please, please sit down!" Arthur pried the American's hand away from the tree and forced him to sit underneath the shaded branches of the willow tree. "W-what happened to you?" Arthur asked as he shakily opened Alfred's bloody shirt. America couldn't feel anything.
He couldn't feel the light touched to his wound. He couldn't see the worry in the Englishman's eyes as he pressed down on his wound, trying desperately to stop the bleeding. He couldn't see the tears that began to fall… All he could feel was cold…so very cold. Someone was shaking him, shouting for him. Someone was screaming for him, but he couldn't tell who anymore. The flashbacks of his childhood under this very same tree and reality blurred together.
'England…' he wanted to say 'don't worry, England…I forgive you…I love you' but he couldn't…
"Alfred…"
"Alfred…?
"Alfred..!"
