Untitled (original y/y?) [1/1]
anonymous
September 28 2009, 20:24:18 UTC
THE CUTE THAT WAS IN MY MIND WAS TOO POWERFUL, SO I CAVED. D: ENJOY! :D
They were both sick of it. Sick of the fighting, sick of the teasing, sick of the games. And one day, America couldn't take it; with a slam he excused himself, leaving the Englishman to his regrets. Arthur wasn't supposed to shout at him; he wasn't supposed to wish loudly for the younger's fall; he wasn't supposed to let his lover go. Standing in an awkward air, he didn't know where he was. It was too blurred, his memory. Shouting.. So much shouting, there may have been the falling of some china.. And then the slam. Oh goodness, that slam. It'll probably haunt England for a while.
Unable to keep his mind straight on one thing, Arthur found himself running-when did he leave the house?-towards something, somewhere. It was still too blurry. But after a few moments of running, not bothering his to stop his own movements, Arthur found it; that bomber jacket, that Nantucket, that hunched stance when walking. He was in a tunnel, trying to avoid sight even though it was too late for anyone to be out-street lights were on and the sky was a pitch-black; if it weren't for the street lights, neither of them would be able to tell if a hand was in front of their face.
Muttering the younger's name under his breath, feeling tears spill past his eyes, Arthur began running again. Finally he reached Alfred. Pushing him against one of the walls, Arthur held Alfred in a tight embrace. America pushed Arthur off of him. "What do you want, Arthur?" He demanded, and Arthur couldn’t find the words; he was still in a daze. A few moments of silence settled upon them. Alfred turned around. 'No' Arthur breathed, and grabbed the American's arm. Alfred snapped his head. "What is it, Arthur." He demanded, and if he weren't in a daze, Arthur would've noticed the tear-tracks marring his soft, smooth and vulnerable face. Alfred's patience was drying up; he knew this. And without demand, words began to form, as tears lines down the Englishman's face, wanting to hear him as badly as the 19-year-old forced back.
"I don't care if our love is based on something as flimsy as an alliance. If one day we should find ourselves as enemies I would not be sad because I got to this moment, right now, to be with you, however sour the events that led up to now." He whispered, face that of pure regret. Unable to form his own words, Alfred simply stared at his lover, tears falling down as well. Hesitantly leaning towards each other, they shared a kiss, the sounds of the crickets chirping and the street lights humming fuelling their love for each other.
Not exactly how I wanted BUT OH WELLLL~ 8D PRAYING OP DOESN'T MIND MULTIPLE FILLS/ANONS LIKE. DDD8
ENJOY! :D
They were both sick of it. Sick of the fighting, sick of the teasing, sick of the games. And one day, America couldn't take it; with a slam he excused himself, leaving the Englishman to his regrets. Arthur wasn't supposed to shout at him; he wasn't supposed to wish loudly for the younger's fall; he wasn't supposed to let his lover go. Standing in an awkward air, he didn't know where he was. It was too blurred, his memory. Shouting.. So much shouting, there may have been the falling of some china.. And then the slam. Oh goodness, that slam. It'll probably haunt England for a while.
Unable to keep his mind straight on one thing, Arthur found himself running-when did he leave the house?-towards something, somewhere. It was still too blurry. But after a few moments of running, not bothering his to stop his own movements, Arthur found it; that bomber jacket, that Nantucket, that hunched stance when walking. He was in a tunnel, trying to avoid sight even though it was too late for anyone to be out-street lights were on and the sky was a pitch-black; if it weren't for the street lights, neither of them would be able to tell if a hand was in front of their face.
Muttering the younger's name under his breath, feeling tears spill past his eyes, Arthur began running again. Finally he reached Alfred. Pushing him against one of the walls, Arthur held Alfred in a tight embrace. America pushed Arthur off of him. "What do you want, Arthur?" He demanded, and Arthur couldn’t find the words; he was still in a daze. A few moments of silence settled upon them. Alfred turned around. 'No' Arthur breathed, and grabbed the American's arm. Alfred snapped his head. "What is it, Arthur." He demanded, and if he weren't in a daze, Arthur would've noticed the tear-tracks marring his soft, smooth and vulnerable face. Alfred's patience was drying up; he knew this. And without demand, words began to form, as tears lines down the Englishman's face, wanting to hear him as badly as the 19-year-old forced back.
"I don't care if our love is based on something as flimsy as an alliance. If one day we should find ourselves as enemies I would not be sad because I got to this moment, right now, to be with you, however sour the events that led up to now." He whispered, face that of pure regret. Unable to form his own words, Alfred simply stared at his lover, tears falling down as well. Hesitantly leaning towards each other, they shared a kiss, the sounds of the crickets chirping and the street lights humming fuelling their love for each other.
Not exactly how I wanted BUT OH WELLLL~ 8D
PRAYING OP DOESN'T MIND MULTIPLE FILLS/ANONS LIKE. DDD8
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yeah, I'm done now.
Loved the fill love, LOVED IT. So romantic in a slightly sad/dramatic way (ah swept up in each others arms <3333) Thank you soooo much <3
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And it's no problem for filling for you (again). Sides if I didn't, I would be pissed at myself for like, THE longest time. |D;
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