Epilogue... the morning after

Twisting to his side, Alfred found the space next to him vacant. Which meant one of two things: one that Arthur wasn't strong enough to pull through causing his country to fall and therefore him disappearing, or two, that he had pulled through and had gotten his strength back, meaning he was somewhere else in the building.

Hoping it was the latter, Alfred quickly jumped out of bed, only to stumble upon the realisation that he wasn't wearing any clothes. And as fast as they had disappeared, the memories of the night's events returned. Most would've thought this would cause the young blonde to have confusion or be conflicted, yet he was neither. He knew what had happened and he knew that to him it wasn't something he regretted. No this was something he wanted to happen again, minus Arthur being ill. He wants to grow from where they are now and turn into what he could only hope for.

With this in mind he took it upon himself to get dressed before going on a hunt for the older male. Putting son his underwear and trousers , deeming himself suitable to go around the house in ( he couldn't care less about wearing a top). He visited various places around the building before setting off for the kitchen, but not before mentally prepare himself. Yes, the brit loves cooking, but the fact was the males was also terrible at it, he couldn't even cook his own traditional food.

And he was right, there he was, apron tied around his small waist, with overly large oven gloves on holding an unsurprising batch of burnt scones.

Although this seemed rather familiar to him. He couldn't place it but he felt as though this has happened before.

Weird.

Arthur had been sent into a state of shock when he had first woke up. Of course he had woken up naked with no memories of what had happened in the days which he was ill. To add to this, he had woken up next to America, who as well, was also naked. And being a clever man, he easily put two and two together. His reaction was the opposite of Alfreds. No, he didn't want this. He didn't want to be hurt again, to be held then left alone. He wouldn't get attached.

So he decided the best thing to do was to get up and cook, to ease himself and once America was down with him, he would bring up the conversation.

But now that the said male was here, he didn't know how to start it.

"Arthur..."

"Ah, Alfred. Would you like to take a seat? I just made scones."

"burnt them."

"what? Did you say something?" No he had heard what the American had dared to say, but chose this was not the time to get rowdy.

"I asked if I could have some coffee?"

Like always, you're a liar.

"Tea it is then"

"No I said-"

But England took no notice, to him this was the only way to lighten the atmosphere. Once the tea and (after a long period of arguing and fake mishearing) the coffee were made, both nations took a seat in front of each other, holding their drinks.

Alfred spoke first, no longer hesitating, but wanting to push through this.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine, i suppose. I haven't for my fever any more but there are still some small side effects."

"Ah, that's good then."

And for a second time, the room fell into silence.

"Hey, Arthur?"

"Hmm?"

"Do, do you remember anything?" And what ever fear had left him, had suddenly came back with full force. He No longer wanted to look at Arthur and instead opted to gaze into the black abyss of his coffee.

"No." Just like him to be straight forward

"Ah I –"

"But it doesn't mean I can't put two and two together." England sighed, taking a gentle sip of his tea before letting go completely

"So what do you want to do about it?"

'Because I want to be by your side and grow closer to you' Is what he wanted to say.

"I want to forget that it has ever happened." His answer was cruel, his eyes were cold and the worst thing was.

He wasn't lying.