Chapter 2: No turning back my friend

"Hello Arthur," I say in a happy way as I walked inside the room, avoiding to look at him, as I turned arount to close the door.

"Good morning Alfred," he replied back in a laid back tone.

I'm probably the only one thinking too hard about this. I thought my sadness would be obvious. No, I just want it to be. But I'm trying not to make it obvious to make him believe I'm okay. I should just tell him.

"I'm ready to sign this paper," Arthur said as he lifted his feather, with fresh ink dirpping from the tip. It appeared very obvious he had been playing with the feather and ink before I came into the room. He didn't seem affected whatsover. Maybe tired, but other than that, just itching to sign the documents. That comment discourages me from saying anything.

"Here," I say as I hand him the papers and pull up a chair next to him. He drops the papers on the shiny, wooden table with some sort of attitude now. He seems annoyed.

"Sir, do you need us to leave the room?" Asked one of my two soldiers that stood by the doorway.

"Oh no, that's okay. I can handle it from here!" I laugh as I wave them to go outside. The two soldiers lifted their simple, light brown hats, the kind farmers wear, and step outside leaving just the two of us. My soldiers weren't really soldiers. Just local people like your average farmer or aristrocrat even. The only diffirence is that they had guns and were willing to use them in the name of America. That, to me, is enough to be called a soldier. Arthur seems relieved now, because his once tense and hard shoulders slouch over and he leans an arm on the table with his head resting on his palm. He picks up the first page, looks at it for a good two minutes and drops it back onto the pile.

"Alfred."

"Yes?"

"I just need the paper for my approval."

"Approval?"

"Yeah, me approving your independece from me."

"You mean seperation."

"Seperation, independence, same thing."

"N-no it isn't," I mumbled nervously.

"Yes it is. Because either way I'm never going to be with you again," he said flatly.

I wish he hadn't said it that way.

"Well, its right here," I say as I stand besides him and looks thru the stack of papers crossing in front of his path as I leaned over the desk. Then I feel a sort of sensation in the space between us. I look over my shoulder at him, and I see him staring right at my face.

"Well? I need the paper!" He yelled annoyed as he turned away.

"I'm on it!" I reply back. Then at the back of the stack, I pull out a light brown piece of paper and lay it out in front of him. He sits himself comfortably as he reads it, holding it up to his face. As he does this, I look around the room. The same room where I found out about our troubles. The same room we'd have our happy times. The same room where I heard the news of him not being with us anymore. It broke my heart.

"Sign it first," Arthur said as I swiftly turned my head to face him. "What's wrong? You seem confused. Sign the paper so I can leave and work on myself [as a country]. "

I stare at him and then smiled as I snatched the pen from his hand like nothing was wrong. I'd always smile when I'm terribly nervous. As I was about to write my name-

"So what are you going to do once I leave you?"

I could feel all the blood and blush rush to my face. Now it must be obvious to him that I seem distressed.

"Well, work on improving myself!" I say in a fake expression of excitement. "Its not like I'm going to drop everything I have in common with you; I was able to go by without you before, so I can keep on without you again!" I felt like slapping myself. That was a complete and utter lie. But I understood why I said it. Because I was trying to get him to say how he'd feel about the situation.

"Same here. In fact, I did better off without you. Trying to fix you[r] [country] slowed me down," he smiled back at me. Whether he saw right thru me, or spoke the truth didn't matter. He had turned my own words against me. Maybe that's why people always say 'its always better to speak the truth and never lie'. But I have to make things more complicated in a twisted, masochist sort of way to make it intersting to myself. Why I do that, I don't know. As far as I understood my way of thinking, I complicate things, knowing or not, to make things more interesting because, well, I'm just difficult that way. Maybe someday I'll know why.

"Like I care. I'm free from you now! No more will I have to deal with you!" I yell at him in a gloating, jerkish, obnoxious way. I do it because he made me even more uncomfortable. And when I get uncomfortable, I panic. And when I panic, I just blurr out anything that comes to my mind. I hadn't realized it, but I just finished signing my name on the paper. I place both hands on my hips as I stand there with my fake, trying-to-make-everything-look-fine-but-really-isn't face expression, which, as much as I don't want to, works. He snatches the feather pen from my hand and leans closer to the document.

Maybe he can see thru me. Maybe he knows I'm uncomfortable. Maybe he just doesn't think of this nothing much than a mere signing of a paper. I feel myself blush, the thought of me being the only one taking every detail and word we say serious and to heart embarresses me.

"There. Can I go now? Or are you going to throw some lavish and barbaric party right in front of my face to shove it in?" He grunts in an annoyed manner as he crosses his arms and leans back in the leather seat.

Oh no, he thinks I'm being a jerk and showing off . . . . .

I feel completely stupid now. Because as much as I'm tyring to make myself seem like a jerk and everything is fine in my tiny little world, everything is the complete opposite. Because right now in my tiny little world, everything is being thrown into madness and destructive panic. I can feel my throat getting sore, itching to yell 'WAIT! ITS NOT TRUE! Im just faking all of this! I'm not okay with any of this! I'll do anything, just please, STAY WITH ME!' But that was the crappy thing about me. I never could. Besides, it was too late. Even if I wanted to stop us from being seperated and him going away, the damage was done. Everything that happened between us, the battles, disobedience, defience, all of that had taken place. And our superiors had made the decision of the seperation. But, even if that was true, I should speak out, because it might, at least between us, make the tiniest diffirence to let him know I didn't wan thim to go away. But, I could never do such a thing. I don't know why though. Something in my gut told me 'wait a little longer, the right moment will come when you're aware of everything you feel. Just hold on a little longer.' I wanted to go against this 'gut' feeling, but I didn't understand fully what I was feeling, so I wanted to go the safe side, and not say anything at all. I must sound like such a coward. It makes me sick.

"Aww, come on Arthur! Can't you take a joke? If you want we can have one last drink before you go away. How about it? For old times' sake!" I say excitedly as I try to get him to warm up to the idea, patting him on the back as I did so. He opens his eyes and turns to me, and then turns back to facing the table.

"-sigh- Fine. What diffirence would it make?" He said. I became happy. He said it in a relieved sort of way. I grab his hand and excitedly pull on it, trying to get him out of the chair.

"C'mon, well go in my basement! I keep all sorts of drinks there you'd probably li-!" He then yanked his arm away from my hold, and looked at me in an odd way. He looked at me mortified.

Don't Alfred. Is what his face seem to tell me.

Oh, right. I'm sorry. I said with my face expression.

I had to remember to keep my distance with him now. Because we're never going to be together for a long time, and as much as he hadn't seemed to care, it looked like he didn't want me to seem clingy to him before he left for who knows how long. Guess he's right. I'd miss him even more in an aching way.

"I'll go tell my soldiers they can deliver the documents now!" I exclaim to break the emotional tension as I walk to the door and open it.

"Yes sir! We're on it!" Said one of the soldiers as they walked back inside and grabbed the documents, inserting them into a leather case.

"Thanks. We'll be downstairs if you need us drinking!" I say in return bringing up my usual go-lucky personality as I waved goodbye to them in the hallway.

The whole way walking in the hallway with Arthur made me feel awkward. His face, that expression, was ingraved to my mind. It looked so sad and scared. His face made me want to cry.

As I opened the worn out basement door, it made a creaking sound.

"You still haven't gotten it fix?" Said Arthur.

"Oh, I haven't had the time. I'll oil it some other ti-"

"Whatever," he mumbled not caring, just walking right past me and proceeded heading down the stairs in the dark room, almost in a sulking way. I find myself smiling for some reason. Probably because he realized how far apart we'll be from now on. Well at least that's what I wanted to think of it. Then again I could be thinking too much again.

"Woah, this room is so dusty too," he exclaimed as he turned on the light. As soon as I saw it on, I headed downstairs and stood impatiently behind him.

"And your still afraid of the dark?"

I nod my head excitedly.

"You ninny, your not suppose to be proud of being afraid of something so stupid!"

"Stupid?" I say in an obviously hurted way.

"-sigh- No you dolt, I mean its a ridiculous fear because darkness is everywhere! Its unavoidable."

"Well, I'm not afraid of it. I just don't know what's in it!"

"What could possibly be in a room you've been in countless times?"

"A time-traveling murder."

" . . . . "

"?"

"You're so weird," he mumbled as he sat down on a bar stool.

"-laughing- I'll go see what kind of drinks I have here!" I exclaim running behind the bar stand and looking in the cabinets. Usually, you'd feel offended if somebody called you weird. But with Arthur, its a totally diffirent case. For some reason I felt the sensation that , among other people he might possibly know, I stood out the most in his mind to be called weird. I felt it a privelage to be considered 'weird' in his mind. Weird, isn't it?

END