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Lonely Sunday	By : SouChanDevo Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 2171 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia nor do i make any profit from it.. I just use it for the sick twisted plot bunnies running around bopping me on the head.

Chapter List
- 1-Prologue - Don't
- 2-Chapter 1 Always
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Author’s Note : Hey again everyone. I know I said the first chapter would be up before now, but this week has been kinda blech in all respects. BUT Chapter one is here now, although I don’t think you’re going to be happy about it. BUWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!! But for now enjoy!

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Chapter 1 - Always
   The rain was falling heavy in England today. Arthur stood on his terrace, watching the downpour through tired eyes. The allies had taken a few days to go back to their countries and report in with their leaders. None but a handful of humans knew that the personified nations existed. The prime minister in England, the president and a few members of the cabinet in America for example. Other than that, if the blonde were to walk on the street, he would just be Arthur Kirkland, not ‘England’. Of course he had his own feelings as well, but his entire being was tied to the beautiful country around him.



   Arthur sighed and rested his head on his arms, burring his face in the soft cotton of his sleeves. Things had not gotten better with Alfred after the initial meeting. Although he had tried speaking with the other nation again, Alfred had ignored him. The American was kind to the other countries and spoke with them at length, but his distaste for his ‘brother’ was evident, and the other nations were starting to notice. Francis had asked him about it during a recess one day. Arthur didn’t say any specifics, but voiced he was sure that Alfred was still upset about the revolution.



   “Then why don’t you apologize?” was the blonde’s simple answer. Arthur tried to hide his frustration behind a scowl.



   “Don’t you think I’ve tried that you idiot?” The Frenchman thought about it for a moment and had mumbled something about America and made a swift exit.



   Arthur let one eye peek over his arm to look out over the misty water, towards the west, towards America, towards Alfred. What had he done that was so bad it warranted such behavior? Arthur stood, a finger working to loosen his tie as he moved back through the French doors, into his bedroom. The blonde pulled the tie off completely and laid it over the back of the chair, his vest quickly following. Letting his weight pull him back onto the bed, he sat down with an ‘oof’ and began pulling his boots off. After they were perfectly nestled next to the bed, he un-tucked and unbuttoned his shirt. With each button, a memory of Alfred’s childhood surfaced. Finally Arthur flopped backwards onto his bed and closed his eyes, thinking back through their history to find some clue to Alfred’s cold disposition.
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   Arthur held the tiny nation in his arms, rocking Alfred back and forth. He smiled as the wind tousled their hair and he saw the boy’s face was relaxed in sleep. The older man lowered them both down into the golden wheat, laying the boy so he was cradled in his crossed legs. Brushing blonde hair out of Alfred’s face, the Englishman wondered if he would be able to be a good enough role model.
   “You’re special… you know that?” He said to the sleeping child, “You are going to be great, and together, we’ll make this world a better place.” His smile was bright as he gazed upon the boy’s face. America was so strong, but very young. He could be dangerous if he wasn’t raised right.   It was a good thing that snail slurping toad didn’t get a hold of him, or else they would all be doomed.



   Arthur kissed the little boy on the forehead and silently prayed to God that he could raise this boy right teach him the proper way to live. The Brit would teach him to be kind, and show him how to make the right decisions, and teach him that justice should prevail all.



   “Alfred… I will always protect you. I will always keep you safe… I’ll be here, all you have to do is call me… “ He held the boy’s cheek in his hand, feeling very proud of the man he would become.
“Always.”
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   Arthur growled at his memory. He hadn’t been able to protect Alfred, the boy wouldn’t let him! After the Revolution, he hadn’t been able to help him with anything, even if he did offer! The Brit stood and moved to the French Doors, his arms crossed, leaning on the door jamb in a huff, watching the fog grow thicker with the rain.



   Sometimes Arthur wondered if his mood effected the weather in his country. He’d heard it had been extremely wet and rainy since the day Alfred had rejected any sort of contact between them, and in the past when he’d been happy, it was very nice outside, and when he got really angry, the temperature shot up. It would make sense, after all, the economy did effect how strong and healthy he felt. He blonde shook his head as a particularly nasty thunderhead came into view, setting it’s sights on his beloved England. If he didn’t pull himself out of this funk, his county might drown. With a sigh, he carefully shut the doors on London and locked them. Not really wanting to lay in bed, unable to sleep, Arthur decided to make some tea to calm his nerves.



   On the way to the kitchen, he walked past a room he hadn’t gone into in a long time. It was Alfred’s room, back when he had lived with Arthur in England. The handle protested as he opened the door, and stepped inside. Once Arthur had gotten Alfred Settled in America, he’d left the room as it was in case the boy came to visit, then, he grew up, and Arthur had never had the time to move everything to storage. Then, a few decades after the Revolution, when he’d realized he may never have a relationships with the American every again, he couldn’t bear to change it. On the walls now were all the photos of the two of them, and all the drawings Alfred had made for him. A few of the things the boy had left behind were sitting on a shelf, a teddy bear missing an eye and spilling stuffing from its side, a box of broken crayons, some drawing paper, and a few old books.
   Arthur took the teddy bear in his hands and lifted it up much like he used to do when playing Up, Up, and Away with Alfred. A pang of hurt filtered through his heart and he pulled the toy into his chest, hugging it close as he sat down on the bed. He closed his eyes, willing the pain to go away, when he felt a gentle nudge on his knee.



   The Englishman looked up to see the friendly unicorn that he’d come to realize only he could see. “Hello old friend…” he said softly, reaching out a hand to pat him on the nose, “What are you doing here?”



   “You’re sad…” it said softly, in a childlike whisper, “It’s raining outside… so… why are you crying England?” Arthur reached up to feel he cheeks, he wasn’t crying was he? His hand came away dry and he looked back at the unicorn.



   “But I’m not crying…” he said. The animal tossed it’s mane and stepped forward.



   “But you are crying… in here…” it gently touched Arthur’s heart with it’s horn before moving back, “So why are you crying?” Little pangs of dread filled his stomach, or had they been there all along and he had just ignored them? The blond buried his face into the teddy bear, ashamed and embarrassed to let even the unicorn see his distraught expression. “England…” The voice was soft in his ear now, “Please tell me, why are you crying?”



   “Because…” his own voice was muffled by emotion and the well loved bear, “I’m afraid I’ve lost my little boy…”

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Meanwhile - In America



   “Francis, why are you here?” Alfred asked, already annoyed because of his meeting with the president, “Don’t you have work to do?”



   “Ah, but you see, I finished early and I thought I would come play with that adorable little brother of yours.” The Frenchman had a gleam in his eye that Alfred wasn’t sure he liked. “Ah don’t worry.” The blonde reassured him, “I won’t do anything to him, he is still so very young.” Alfred glared before standing.



   “I’ll o call him down from his room if you want to see him.” The American went to go to the stairwell to call for his brother, but Francis’ hand on his shoulder stopped him.



   “Oui, you may in a moment, but I need to speak with you first.” Alfred raised an eyebrow to show he was listening. “I was noticing how cold you are to Arthur, why is that?” The American’s face paled as he pulled his arm away, falling back against the wall for support.



   “Why don’t you ask him?”



   “I did, he said he thinks it might be about the revolution, but I know that you wouldn’t hold a grudge over something like that. There has to be more to it.” Alfred’s laugh stunned the Frenchman. The younger man’s head was in his hands, and his shoulders shook.



   “He doesn’t remember?” the voice was soft at first, unbelieving, then his anger grew, “He doesn’t remember? He doesn’t fucking remember?! HOW COULD HE FORGET? I HAVEN’T!!!” Suddenly pain sprouted in Alfred’s fist as it connected with the wall, leaving a huge hole. His super human strength had made the walls rattle, and now blood ran down his fingers from busted knuckles. “I suppose that makes sense..” He said with a small sad chuckle, his voice was quiet and almost tearful as he sunk to the floor, “He never seemed to remember at the time… and he wasn’t… he didn’t…”



   “Brother?” Matthew stood at the bottom of the stairs taking in his brother’s bleeding hand and angry face. Alfred forced a happy smile onto his lips as he stood slowly.



   “I just slipped Matthew, everything is alright. Francis is here.” The quiet boy’s eyes lit up as he ran to his ‘papa’. The Frenchman caught Alfred’s eye above the little blonde’s head and whispered above his noises of joy.



   “Maybe you should talk to him, at least get out everything you need to say…” Alfred scoffed at the idea, but he knew Francis was right. As he excused himself to doctor his hand, he decided that he would talk to Arthur during their next session. He had to find out if his old mentor really had forgotten everything.



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Back in England
   Arthur could have sworn he felt a hand on his back, but when he looked up, no one was there. He sighed and rubbed his brows in exhaustion, forehead wrinkled in worry. When he looked up again, he caught tired green eyes in the mirror.



   “Look at you.” He said to his reflection, “you’re nothing but a sad old git…” He sighed again, deeper this time and looked away. The split second before his eyes left the mirror, he could have sworn he saw an evil grin splayed across his face. With a start, Arthur’s head snapped back to the mirror, but nothing was out of the ordinary. The man touched his face, pulling at his lips and eyes, making sure everything was as it should be before falling back onto the bed. The teddy bear clutched in his arms seemed to hug him back as he curled in on himself on the small bed.



   Outside the rain pelted against the windows, playing a somber lullaby as a voice spoke in his mind, “What would you do to get your Alfred back?”
   Arthur was used to strange things like this happening to him, but he’d never heard a voice in his head like that before. “Wh-what? Who are you?” he asked aloud, sitting up slightly.



   “Don’t get up on my account…” Arthur gently laid his head down once more, “Now, I’m just the little voice in your head that helps you decide what to do.”
   “Where have you been before now? I don’t remember hearing you when I had other hard decisions to make or situations to think through?” Arthur sounded annoyed.



   “You don’t really give me any chance to speak do you?” Arthur had to give him that one.



   “So… what do you have to say… er…” Arthur didn’t know exactly what to call this new voice in his head.



   “Call me Allistor.” He could almost hear the smile in the words, “You’re in love with Alfred aren’t you?” Arthur blushed and hid his face in the bear.



   Was he? He’d always known his feelings for the American were more than brotherly, but was he in… in love with him? After a thorough search of his mind, and feelings, the Brit decided that yes, he was very much in love with Alfred F. Jones.



   A chuckle in his ear made Arthur cringe, and the voice spoke again, “So if you love him, what would you be willing to do to get him back?” It took Arthur only a moment to answer.



   “Anything.”

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Author’s Note: There you have it. We meet Allistor, Arthur’s apparent ‘conscience’. So let me know what you think! Who do you think Allistor really is? And do you think Alfred and Arthur’s talk will go over well? More in the next chapter of…. LONELY SUNDAY
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Lonely Sunday