Hetalia Axis Powers does NOT belong to me, all rights reserved.
June 13, 1766~
My eyes opened, the haziness of a sleepless night still blurred my sight. I wiped my face with a limp hand and rolled over to the other side of my bed. I have never been the type to let the morning get away from me, but when I looked at the clock it read a quarter till twelve. The reason for this was because of one thing, Alfred.
The night before, Alfred had suddenly started to complain that his legs, arms, stomach, neck, basically every part of his body, hurt. Miss Mary, the small but firm housekeeper, had immediately flown into action, making a near boiling pot of tea for Al to drink, rushing him off to his room, and putting him to bed. All this had taken her till the dreadful hour of 12 o'clock due to Alfred's stubbornness to except the idea that he might be sick. She only managed to get him to sleep at such a time because she had reminded him of the fact that Arthur was going to be returning from England the next day and that he wouldn't be able to enjoy his homecoming if he was ill.
About two years ago, Arthur's bosses—or to be frank, Parliament—wrote him, saying that there were more important things to attend to back in Europe than in America. Arthur, of course, packed his bags the next day. Alfred hadn't been quite as sad as I would have imagined though I wouldn't blame him.
A week or so from the day Arthur received his letter, Al had confessed to me that he and Arthur had hit somewhat of a dark patch in their relationship. For the days that lead to Arthur's departure, Alfred didn't even really speak with the man. He would give a grunt of a response to some questions but normally let Arthur's voice hang in the air without answer; Davidson even had to drag him down from his room so he could express a proper good-bye to the other.
Though bitterness held Al for a while longer, three months seemed to suck all of it out of him, leaving him sad at the memory of his and Arthur's farewell. So, he wrote Arthur a letter, saying how much he was sorry about his attitude and the lack of friendliness at their least meeting. A month of two later, a responding letter came, written in Arthur's neat letters that filled four pages of "I forgive you"s, "I miss you"s, and "I love you"s.
His letter then lead us to Alfred's cry of alleged aching joints, a week later.
I staggered out of bed and dressed myself as quickly as I could. I didn't want Miss Mary's rule of, "You must be present if you want to eat what is served," to apply to me for lunch is served exactly at twelve. I just open my door, still slipping on my house shoes, when the sound of rapid chattering and loud laughs filtered through the hallway.
I knew Arthur wasn't due back till later today so the noise must not be of his arrival…unless I slept longer than I thought…
"Oh, Mister Matthew! You're awake, finally. Now, come, come, you have to get down to the living room. Something just absolutely remarkable happened last night!"
Miss Jamie is Miss Mary's daughter. She was born into her job as Alfred's housekeeper, following her mother, and has lived in the house for sixteen years, though she strongly says she has only been on this earth for fifteen. She bears quite a resemblance to her mother but received her father's bad habit of sticking her nose into other people's business—which Miss Mary has repeatedly said, is the reason why Miss Jamie's father is now dead.
"What happened?" I asked, though not yet fully interested as the urge to run back to my bed started to creep up on me.
Miss Jamie's eyes grew along with her smile. "Oh, I can't even say! It is just amazing! Now come, stop talking my ear off."
She promptly grabbed my shoulders and began to push me forward. I craned my neck back and looked up at Miss Jamie's excited face. "You were the one talking."
"Oh, shush," she said, adding a gentle tap to the side of my head.
I smiled and let her keep leading me down the hall. She turned as we reached the staircase and tramped us down the steps in fast little taps of her shoes. Her tight hands released my shoulders when we came to the living room's doorway, the distinct voices of Davidson and Mr. Brixton loud in my ears.
"I still can't believe how ya look. Took me half my life for 'em growth spurts to start gettin' to me."
"And you're not even the tallest anymore, David."
"Hell of a lot taller than ya, Brixton."
Miss Jamie had me behind her slightly, her bouncing dress getting into my view of the room. I waited, knowing that it would be rude to push past, but she just stood there, a shining smile on her face, staring intently into the living room, altogether forgetting I was behind her. The courage to announce my presence with cough or ask politely for her to move had just gotten to me when Miss Mary's bustling body came up beside me.
"Oh, Jamie. Move your flat bum and let poor Matthew through."
The tips of Miss Jamie's ears flared red as she scooted to the side and turned around. "Oh, mother! Don't talk about my bum! Especially in front of the men!" she whimpered, hands flying to her backside to hide what her mother seemed so adamant on pointing out to the world.
Miss Mary dismissed her daughter with a slight hand movement and grabbed my hand. With one yank, she pulled me all the way into the living room.
The interest that I did not possess at the beginning had grown to a jittering anxious mass of wonder in the pit of my stomach, but when I observed the room, I didn't see anything amazing or close to remarkable.
The room looked the same as it had all other days and everyone inside looked just as ordinary. Davidson wore his brown weathered hat and working shirt, the boots that scuffed the floor most days strapped to his feet. His mouth moved up and down as his teeth grinded into the tobacco slice tucked in his cheek. Mr. Brixton stood with his arm crossed; the normal judgmental purse of his lips covered his face. His neat and smoothed shirt was pressed into his shoulder as the weight of his precious travel bag hug off him. Miss Jamie was still to the side examining her behind with great anguish while her mother's hand kept clamped to mine. Everything was exactly the same, except for the man standing in the middle of the room.
He was tall, very tall, with a set of broad shoulders and a sturdy jaw. He looked gawky and picked at his hands as if he didn't know where to put them. I'd never seen him before—though he seemed quite famous among Davidson and Mr. Brixton—but when he turned around I knew I'd been wrong.
Alfred had always possessed a simple beauty in the way of looks. He had always been the gorgeous child. Even though I look very similar to him, Alfred had this brightness about him. His eyes captured a depth that no one else seemed to have. The man in the living room had those eyes. Alfred's eyes.
"Al..."
The man locked his eyes on mine, staring past Davidson's shoulder. His thin lips stretched into an enormous smile of white teeth.
"Mattie!" An unexpectedly hoarse voice boomed through the room. Alfred launched himself into a two-step charge that carried him right into my chest. A strong pair of hands grabbed on to my arms, slipping me out of Miss Mary's hand, and I could feel my feet lift off the ground. A massive wave of air was pushed out of me in a heave as my chest and his were slammed together. The thought of an attack slowly dissolved into a hug.
I dangled there before the arms around me lowered. My feet sat on the ground and my body rocked back and forth as the man pushed off of me. I looked up into the still large grin on his face. "Alfred? Is…what happened?"
"I don't know! Last night I woke up with this awful pain and all of a sudden," he stopped and gestured up and down his tall body, "I looked like this! Crazy isn't it?"
I nodded stiffly and let Miss Mary nudge by me. "Oh, you're just the most hansom young man I have ever seen!" she cooed grabbing Alfred by the cheek and pinching it bright pink. "Lord have mercy on you when the women get to seeing what you've become, I swear."
At that moment, Miss Jamie took her turn at the conversation. "Oh, I already told the news to Bernadette and Mrs. Thom's daughters down in town. I invited them over for a little sit down with you, Mister Alfred, since they seemed so excited to meet you," she said, not even noticing the slightly disturbed glance Al and all the others in the room gave her.
Mr. Brixton coughed. "Well I do love this talk we all are having but what I would really love, is some lunch. Anyone else?"
Everyone in the room nodded and Alfred's face seem to break out in a delightful shine. "Food sounds great! I've been starving since this morning," he said, "and I bet Mattie's hungry as well."
Al's eyes caught mine, a spark of youth and energy filling them, and the uncomfortable feeling I had felt for him vanished. He was still the same Alfred, even if a man had replaced the small child he was only yesterday. "Yeah, I famished."
Alfred smiled at me. Miss Mary lead the others into the dining room, all now chattering of what to eat, while I waited back with my brother, who leaned down and kissed the top of my head.
—
After lunch was served, the time seemed to blur by. While Miss Mary and Alfred were clearing the table, Miss Mary commented that he needing to find new clothes, since he couldn't borrow Davidson's forever and she would be the one to take him. This caused Miss Jamie to nearly upturn the table. She quickly began to beg her mother if she could be the one to take him shopping, as clothing and spending money on clothing happened to be one of her favorite things to do. Davidson and Mr. Brixton immediately ran off to some place, not wanting to get in the middle the two women's bickering, leaving Alfred to fend them off himself. He finally agreed to let both of them take him only if I join them. I, of course, said yes, and we set out for town.
Along our adventure to find the utmost grand attire for Al to wear, Miss Jamie paraded around, trying to catch the eye of, really, any man there was—Miss Mary met a handbag that she just "Absolutely could not live without!"—and Alfred found himself in a most awkward position when he was cornered by a gaggle of women who kept asking if he was new to town.
Meanwhile, as I figured since everyone else seemed to be preoccupied or trapped, it was up to me to get what we initially came here to get. In the end, I managed to buy a whole wardrobe for half the price by talking to an old Frenchman for half an hour who, genuinely, missed the conversations he and his son used to have with back in France. Somehow our little party of four got back home safely and Alfred just had enough time to put on one of his new suits right before Arthur arrived at port.
I have to say, and most likely speaking for everyone else, that their reunion was nothing of what people expected. Arthur had made it to the house slightly later than planned but no one minded―other than Miss Mary who seemed to have some sort of schedule made. He said his hellos and gave me a small pat on the shoulder then looked for Alfred. To the humor of the rest of the room, Arthur actually pasted Alfred entirely while looking for the short little boy he had last seen, not knowing that that boy had been replaced by a man taller than himself. Alfred finally relived the other of his search and coughed comically. Arthur turned and his slight smile fell. His face took on an unreadable expression and he became deathly silent. Alfred managed a whispered, "Hi…" before following in Arthur's silence. The room seemed to go thick with anxiety. No one moved in fear of setting off something terrible.
"Oh, doesn't our Mister Alfred look dashing, Mister Kirkland?" Miss Mary's attempted to break the stillness but was only met by a blank stare from Arthur and a surprising, "I'm going to bed."
I watched, along with the others, as Arthur brushed by Alfred and walked up the stairs. Miss Mary held her hands up to hide her gaping mouth while Miss Jamie started to cry into her skirt. Davidson and Mr. Brixton looked down at their shoes and Alfred stood motionless. I walked to him and grabbed his hand but all he did was look to his chest.
After a while, everyone receded to their rooms. I managed to lead Alfred back to his though silence still gripped him.
The next morning, everyone was down for breakfast. Arthur again took his spot at the front of the large table while Alfred and I sat to the left of him. Alfred was still silent and the air in the room was still as cold as it was the other night. But while Arthur was sipping at his tea he looked over at Alfred and coughed. "You look very charming today, Alfred."
Alfred glanced over the top of my head. He looked at Arthur, who had returned to his tea, before smiling. "Thank you, Arthur."
I let go of the breath I was holding as the two went back into their own breakfasts. I looked back to my plate and sat quietly, the invisible pressure in the air lightening to nothing and everything seemed to feel normal again.
Chapter 4!