AN: And... Here is the next chapter. Arthur's response. There may still be a few mistakes, but I tried to fix them all. I'm actually kind of proud of this chapter... Arthur was really fun to write. I hope you guys like it!

The song is It Only Hurts by Default.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Hetalia belongs to Hidekez Himaruya and the song belongs to Default.

Arthur Kirkland had done many, many stupid things in his long life. Of course some of those stupid things he was still proud of, but there were others. Many more… reckless than the last. From charging another fleet that outnumbered his own in his sea days to bringing up something he clearly shouldn't have with his brothers to trying to use spell after spell in an attempt to summon something that would actually do something other than come back to bite him in the ass.

This however… this took the cake.

Here he was, sitting in a meeting filled with his fellow nations thinking about singing some blasted song in order to talk about a very bad subject. Why was he doing this, he asked himself. Why, in all of the universe, would he want to sing something that revealed his emotions, for god's sake, in front of people?!

He sighed quietly, his emerald eyes scanning the room. Of course he knew why… That boy was going to be the death of him…

But, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself, he just could notleave his answer unsaid this time. If not for him then for Alfred and if not for Alfred… For the bloody Frenchman who would not leave him the hell alone about the whole ordeal.

Speaking of the twat…

He glanced to his right, where the man was, of course, sitting. He glared none too inconspicuously, to which Francis rolled his eyes and- did he had a death wish?- smiled. "Don't get angry at me, mon frère, I am simply giving you a push in the right direction."

Arthur's eyes narrowed, glaring a bit pointedly now, as he huffed in disbelief. "Oh, is that what you call it?"

The git had the nerve to nod, not backing down in the slightest. "Oui. You are the one who is going to make them catch you, am I not correct?"

This caused him to pause. He blinked for a moment at the question he need not answer because, damn it, he was right. Giving a final glare, the Brit folded his arms across his chest and returned to his original position, staring down the edge of the conference table.

Francis chuckled beside him. "And you say I am the one that is overdramatic."

Arthur's eye twitched. "I am not being overdramatic, you-" He caught himself and quickly swallowed his insults lest he become too loud. After a deep breath and a rather insufferably bright look from Francis (like the frog was proud of him or something), he started again in a lower voice. "I am not being overdramatic. I am simply…" The sentence died quickly, his pride not allowing him to finish.

Francis waved it off with a slightly exasperated expression. "You are scared, Arthur. That is perfectly normal. I'm sure Alfred was too before he sang." Though his voice was quiet enough to where the nations around them couldn't hear, Arthur couldn't help but glance around nervously. "Oh, relax. It'll be over before you know it."

"Says the man who hasn't sung a song by himself."

The Frenchman shrugged off his words saying, "I am merely looking for the right one."

Arthur snorted softly in his way of saying, 'Yeah, right,' or, 'Yes, you would do that.' His gaze again fell to the table before looking around the room once more. There were more nations now than there had been, as shown by the noise level steadily increasing, the room now practically full. He spotted Alfred further away, chatting with Matthew and, at times, bringing in a less than happy to socialize Kiku.

He smiled slightly, though it faded when Ludwig took charge, asking them as politely as he could manage to shut up so that they could get down to business.

As the speeches came and went he listened, albeit halfheartedly. His fingers kept twitching every now and again as he kept telling, or really yelling at, himself to grab his phone or his ear buds. Now he understood why Alfred had raised his hand, though the lad had looked seriously out of place in doing so. That was only one quick movement he had to make himself accomplish. If he pulled out something he would have to wait to be noticed and by then it would be too late.

It really didn't help that Francis kept looking at him, as if he were silently saying, 'Okay, go. Go now. Go.' It was annoying and, honestly, it was only making him angry.

When Francis looked at him for what had to be the fortieth time, his hand shot in the air as he sent a glare toward the other. Ha, he told the elder nation silently, I did it.

Francis's expression shifted, becoming something that seemed almost all knowing, if a bit smug. He nodded slightly as if a child had pointed out a very obvious answer. 'Yes,' his expression said, 'I know.'

That was when Arthur realized that no one was talking anymore. His eyes widened and he slowly raised his head, looking around to find all eyes on him, their faces mirroring his own surprise. Alfred's held a bit more than that; shock and wonder. Matthew was just smiling. His hand slowly fell and he fidgeted awkwardly in the silence, his eyes swiveling towards the younger nation that, at most times, seemed like a warden to them all. "Um…"

Before he could continue, Ludwig nodded. He seemed alright with this interruption, or at least less annoyed or angry than with most of the others. "Yes, I know." He seemed to pause, as if asking if Arthur wanted to go at that moment or at the usual time. When the Brit only managed a very slight nod, the German continued. "Last ten minutes."

He nodded fully this time and sat dumbly as the meeting continued, trying to process what had just happened. When it did a couple of seconds later he glared once more at the Frenchman, who only smiled back.

The time came when the last speech had come to a close and all of the nations had returned to their respective seats. Their eyes turned towards him expectantly, waiting for whatever he was going to divulge. There was no pretending he was going to play something harmless; they all knew.

Arthur hesitated for a second or two and then pulled out his phone. It only took a moment to unlock, both to his relief and annoyance. He then pulled out the ear buds and placed them on the table before glancing up as if someone was going to stop him. No one did. Despite himself, he turned and looked towards Francis, who nodded encouragingly.

He thought for a moment that it was patronizing, but upon a second more of inspection saw that it was nothing of the sort. He gritted his teeth and after a split second's worth of gathering enough determination, huffed softly to himself and turned back to his phone. A moment later music had filled the room, his phone already at its highest volume setting.

He wasn't sure how he felt about the lyrics starting within the first second… As soon as the guitar came in so did the lyrics. "Can hold my breath only for a little while…" He hadn't told anyone, obviously, what song he was singing, though Francis had asked numerous times- only the first time or two actually expecting an answer. It didn't seem like anyone recognized it, though it wasn't like he was looking up much at the moment.

"…'til reality starts to get in." He unclenched his fists and then clenched them again. Was he actually doing this? "Once again, I'm settling for second best… turn the page and skip to the end-" Yes, apparently he was. The Brit started to sing a little louder as the guitar chords increased in volume. "-to where I swore that I would try since the last time I crossed that line…"

He flinched a little, trying not to cough. It was not going to be fun after this was over. "...I know, in the back of my mind,-" His voice came out louder than he expected as the chorus began, his fingers almost twitching. God, he wished he could have his guitar right now. He knew the chords, he wouldn't play very loud, and he needed something to do other than just sitting here trying not to let unpleasant memories shift back to the surface.

Arthur shut his eyes, gritting his teeth for a split second before he continued. "-that it only hurts when you're eyes are open. Lies get tossed and truth is spoken." He prepared himself for the next line, for the truth he was about to say in the lyrics… as if he wasn't doing that already. This was not fun. This was not fun at all. "It only hurts when that door gets opened." Maybe that was why it hurt right now. Because what was he doing?

He took a breath, holding the next bit out. "Dreams are lost and hearts are broken…" Because that was what happened. He let him in, got a little brother- hell, he'd acted like a father at times- and… He winced. Don't think about, Arthur, he scolded himself. The last thing he needed was a coughing fit right now.

There was a brief instrumental, in which he wished even more that he had his guitar. He glanced toward Francis, silently pleading for him to stop the music and say he could leave. He wasn't sure what expression he thought he would see on the other's face, but it wasn't an appreciative one.

Surprised, but still, seeing that he had to get on with it, he continued. "Miles away, a promise from a burning bed, two worlds should never collide." He sighed. "One word would end it if you ever heard and-" Maybe one word would have ended it… "-tear the page out, that reminds of when I…" He bit his lip momentarily, a few images flickering in from the battle despite his wishes and attempts at keeping them away. "…swore that I'd be strong… now the next time has come and gone." He thought on this quickly. So many opportunities he could have apologized, so many times they could have tried to make up. His eyes briefly flickered open, but he forced them shut again. Do not look. "Well maybe you're wrong."

His foot, which had already been tapping, hit the ground harder. His voice grew louder, surprisingly steady. "I know, it only hurts when you're eyes are open-" He knew that and yet he still couldn't bring himself to open them again. "-lies get tossed and truth is spoken. It only hurts when that door gets opened, dreams are lost and hearts are broken."

The guitar, instead of fading as it had before, picked up and he prepared himself to go on, taking a quick but deep breath. He began and… he wasn't sure what made him do it, but he looked up. He met his… His what? His former charge, his friend, his brother, his fellow nation's eyes for some god damned reason. Maybe to get the message across better, or because it didn't seem right not to, or maybe because Alfred needed to know that he understood.

"I know what you're feeling, it's wrong to believe in someone-" He winced, his voice cracking just a tad. Not a good sign. "-someone who's not there." He had had duties to his other colonies. He was sure Alfred understood that now, but as a child…

"I know that you're waiting, 'cause love is worth saving, but only for so long-" His voice had steadily grown louder and he quickly sucked a breath in, knowing that he would need it. Arthur shut his eyes once more, willing himself to get the words out without a hitch. "-so long-" One more. A millisecond breath. "So long!"

The Englishman held it out, until his breath had nearly run out, and stopped as the drums and guitar continued on, his eyes fluttering open. He felt a bit lighter (though that may have been the lack of oxygen) and sucked in a steady stream of air. He saw Francis nod beside him and, when he was too busy trying not to cough to do anything else, the man patted his arm. That accounted for a solid and silent, 'You did it' in Arthur's book.

Still, the song was not over and he would continue. He caught his breath and went on, his voice the same volume as it had been without him trying as hard and his eyes still open. "I swore that I would try since-" He wasn't sure if it was just the recording or not, but it almost sounded like someone else was singing too, if very softly. "-the last time, the last time…"

The guitar continued a moment, softer now, before it picked up again. He shut his eyes once more as well, or at least looked down again. "It only hurts when you're eyes are open. Lies get tossed and truth is spoken. It only hurts when that door gets open. Dreams are lost and hearts are broken." There was barely a pause and the next chorus continued.

"It only hurts when you're eyes are open. Lies are tossed and truth is spoken. It only hurts when that door is open. Dreams are lost and hearts are broken…" He held out the last word for a little and then faded, the guitar's last chord holding out.

It took a few seconds. He waited until the chord had almost completely led the way to silence before he paused the music. And suddenly… suddenly everything came back. The lyrics, the fights, the words sprayed in every which direction, the battlefield- god the battlefield- and it hurt. He stood, not waiting for anyone to give him the okay or say that they were dismissed.

He walked as calmly and… well he was hardly sure of how he was walking other than that he was trying to make it seem like it wasn't a big deal. But his mind was flying and he could feel the blood in the back of his throat and he needed to get out of here. The moment he was past the doorway he took off, making headway for the bathroom.

At the moment, all he cared about was getting there. If someone followed him then that was their problem.

Once inside he leaned over the sink and took out a spare tissue he had made sure to keep with him. As his mouth began to taste more and more metallic he wanted to slap himself. Honestly, why had he not brought more?

And then the coughing started. Harsh, wet coughs as if he had something stuck in his lungs that needed to come out; a frog in his throat. Blood dribbled down his chin and dotted the sink, though he couldn't do anything more other than wince and stare down at it blankly. No, this was most certainly not fun.

His tissue was useless soon enough. Just as he was about to try and make a grab for some toilet paper footsteps came. He rolled his eyes. No, he didn't have a frog in his throat. He had one hovering over his shoulder. The Englishman turned, but when he saw the man standing there he turned and gave a particularly violent cough before trying to wipe his chin.

It was Alfred. There was a mix of emotions that appeared and disappeared across his face, but none like anger or... whatever he had been expecting. After a brief moment of his eyes glancing between the sink and Arthur once or twice he held out several tissues, smiling ever so slightly to tell him to take them. When he did, raising an eyebrow, Alfred gave him an almost nonexistent shrug. "I can put two and two together. I know it's not your food."

He nodded slightly and, having given up the thought of trying to play off his coughing as soon as it began, waited for them to subside.

After a little while they seemed to have faded. After the blood had been washed away, the tissues thrown out, and his face cleaned, the only evidence was his own somewhat raspy voice and still scratchy throat. Arthur turned to the other, unsure as to what to say. After a moment of pointless searching, Alfred blurted, "Thank you."

The Brit's eyebrows furrowed, confused. "What?"

Alfred scratched the back of his head, eyes wide. "Uh, I mean…" He bit his lip, as if trying to find something else to say, but couldn't seem to find anything. So, he repeated, "Thank you."

"For what?"

The younger nation suddenly seemed to find the floor to be very interesting. "Um… for… for everything, I guess." He suddenly looked up. "I mean… thank you for taking me in and taking care of me. Thank you for reading to me and teaching me and… and coming back." He brought his arms up slightly and let them fall back down, letting the Englishman know he was at a loss for what else to say. "Thank you for responding."

Arthur blinked once. Then twice. "You deserved it." He said simply. "You always deserved an explanation." As for the other things… those things had been his job. No thanks needed. After a moment of hesitation he added, a little softer, "You deserved any explanation better than the one I gave you."

Alfred paused, but then shook his head, much to the Englishman's surprise. "No it's…" he took a deep breath. "It's okay, man. I get it now."

While the Brit suddenly had the urge to argue and say that is was not okay, he didn't. He kept his mouth shut, twisting the words around in his mind, and then looked up and quickly said, "Sorry." There was what seemed to be an overlay to his words, an echo. Alfred had said them too.

They blinked at each other for a moment, their expressions shifting as if to say, 'What are you sorry for?' And then they both ran down the list, Alfred going first.

"I'm sorry for causing you so much trouble back then. For yelling when I should have listened, for…" He paused. "For hurting you that day." When Arthur coughed, Alfred winced. "For that, too."

For a moment he looked down at the newly speckled tissue and back to the other nation. "…This," he started, gesturing to the tissue, "is not your fault." He sighed. "I'm sorry for not listening to what you had to say, for not explaining so many of the things that I had to do, for leaving you alone all that time. And…" He hadn't really realized it until now, but… he looked Alfred up and down, a bit saddened. "For making you grow up all at once."

Alfred blinked, obviously not expecting him to say that. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face and Arthur realized he couldn't help but smile with him. "Thanks…" The boy's expression slowly shifted, though, becoming nervous once more.

"Um… You… you don't…" He paused, glancing at the man in front of him. "You don't hate me, right?"

Arthur blinked, resisting the urge to say outright, "No!" Instead, after a moment, he smiled slightly. "Are you kidding?" He asked. "I could never."

A look of utter relief flashed across Alfred's face and he laughed softly. "Oh, thank god…" He sighed. "For the record," he added, "I never hated you either."

It almost felt like someone had pulled a sword out of his chest that had been stuck there for centuries. He let out a breath he didn't think he had been holding and they both smiled. For a moment everything was silent before,

"Really?"

Alfred turned, while Arthur only had to shift his eyes. When he did his eyebrows furrowed. Francis and Matthew had just entered, the Frenchman smiling with either real or mock exasperation.

"Really?" He repeated. "You two decide to settle your differences in a bathroom?" He chuckled, shaking his head. "That kills everything!"

Matthew and Alfred laughed, the elder twin a little louder than the other for once, while Arthur rolled his eyes. For a moment the two seemed to have to have a silent conversation that ended quite quickly with the Canadian smiling widely and saying, "Well, I think this deserves something special." He glanced towards the elder nation next to him for confirmation. "Lunch on us?"

Francis nodded in agreement. "Great idea, Mathieu. Whose car are we taking?"

While the two briefly talked it out, Alfred and Arthur shared an amused look. Before the American began shooting out random ideas of where to eat, to which they all responded by sending out their own, they shared a smile, the realization finally hitting them that…

They were brothers again.

AN: Finally this little mini plot is done. Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think and thanks for sticking with these last few chapters. I should hopefully update soon, but it seems like every time I say that it takes longer, so...

See you next chapter!