Death [1/2]
anonymous
October 2 2009, 03:00:04 UTC
It was horrible watching Alfred die before his eyes, slowly and painfully. Arthur gently held the American’s hand, staring at the white linen sheets. His hand…it was so pale, thin, and…and fragile. The Briton narrowed his eyes, fighting off the tears that prickled them. Why did it have to happen to Alfred? He never deserved such a fate. The man should be smiling, happy, living life to its fullest. Alfred should not be so weak that he can’t even hold a straw without shaking, so tired that he couldn’t stay awake for more than two hours or less. Alfred…shouldn’t…be…dieing.
“Ar…thur?” Alfred rasped out weakly. The Briton’s heart clenched, but he swallowed and turned to look at his beautiful American. His skin was so…so pale that when he was asleep, it looked as though he were all ready dead. He was so skinny some of his bones were starting to show. Alfred looked so tired, but his eyes remained strong and bright.
Arthur almost choked on a sob.
“Yes, Alfred?” he replied, his voice stronger than he felt as he rubbed the American’s knuckles. Arthur’s touches were gentle, as though Alfred would shatter into a million pieces. The blond idiot smiled up at him, tired, soft, and it carried so much love that the Briton almost broke down into tears right then and there.
“I…” Alfred coughed, squeezing the Briton’s hand tightly, as though if he let go he would let go of life. Arthur ran his fingers through the American’s hair soothingly, continuing to caress him even when the coughs stopped. He waited patiently for Alfred to catch his breath, inwardly damning the cancer that was killing the beautiful man. “I…want you to…promise me something, o…okay?”
Arthur swallowed, his mouth suddenly as dry as India in the summer.
“Okay,” the Briton murmured, meeting those intense sky blue eyes. There was no fear in them, nothing to hint at his suffering. All those shards of sky held were gentleness, love, and understanding. Arthur closed his eyes, holding the American’s hand close to his cheek. He couldn’t stand how cold Alfred felt.
“I…want you to…live life to its fullest. If…if you can’t do it…for yourself, then…just do it for…for me,” Alfred’s voice, though weak, held so much passion that it took Arthur by surprise. Surprised emerald met serious blue, and Arthur mutely nodded his promise. The American sighed in relief and closed his eyes, falling back into sleep’s open arms.
~*~*~*
When Alfred was diagnosed with cancer, the doctor told them straight up that he might not even last four months. If he lasted longer, it was the work of a miracle. The American had insisted that they stay in Alfred’s house for as long as the sick man still had life. Arthur had hesitated before agreeing, understanding that his boyfriend wouldn’t want to die in the Briton’s house. That would have been too cruel.
Death [2/2]
anonymous
October 2 2009, 03:00:46 UTC
A month after the diagnosis, their friends heard the news and started to visit him while Arthur was away at work. Matthew and Francis came more often than the others. Matt was Alfred’s brother, after all. Francis was just the Canadian’s boyfriend, but they both loved the American as a brother would (although the Frenchman loved to grope the living daylights out of Alfred, he refrained from doing so this time). The three would talk and joke around, lifting Alfred’s spirits.
Gilbert, Roderich, Ludwig, and Elizaveta were the second most common visitors. Elizaveta would show off all of the pictures she had of everyone to Alfred, reminding him that everyone loved him, even if they didn’t show it. Sometimes, the Austrian would play the piano if everyone begged for it. Alfred always requested something cheerful and upbeat. Gilbert and the American would get into mini arguments over who was more awesome, but sometimes they would just reminisce over how they were both awesome with each other.
Ivan, Toris, and Feliks were next. Feliks would ramble non-stop about something that had happened. Toris would shake his head and make sure Alfred was comfortable. Ivan and the American would talk, rekindling the friendship they had once shared so long ago. They had a huge argument five years before, but at least the sickness had allowed the two to reconcile with the past and forgive the other.
Kiku and Yao came to visit rarely, mainly because they were so busy. The Chinese man would tell stories of when his brothers were younger, causing the normally stoic Kiku to blush quite a few times. Kiku would talk to the American about various games they had played in the past.
~*~*~*
Four months later…
“Arthur,” Alfred said, his voice a soft whisper. Arthur leaned in closer to make sure he heard what the American was going to say. His blue eyes were slightly unfocused, but the Briton ignored that. “Please…would you call everyone over?”
He nodded, hugging the man gently before making the phone calls.
~*~*~*
It took a few hours, but finally everyone was gathered around Alfred’s bed. He looked at them all, a bright, familiar smile on his face. The American looked like he was going to be okay, but they would only be deluding themselves if they thought that Alfred was going to survive this. He looked at them all in turn, still smiling.
“Thanks for visiting me, really,” he told them weakly. In that moment, Alfred looked so tired, yet so strong and brave, that a couple sobs were heard amongst those gathered. The American’s smile turned sad, but it was still soft with kindness and understanding. He gestured for Arthur and Matthew to come closer.
“I’m not afraid,” Alfred whispered. He sighed and closed his eyes. “Please…stay with me…all of you.”
There were nods all around. The American gave another, tired sigh, and seemed to fall asleep.
Tears flowed like waterfalls when not even a minute after he had closed his eyes, Alfred was gone. Yet, none cried more so than Arthur and Matthew, who screamed for the American to return to them.
not op!anon
anonymous
October 7 2009, 12:35:46 UTC
since i'd read the first part already, i thought i'd skip a few paragraphs, but the last one -separated-, i read it and tears ran down my cheeks as i read about arthur and matthew crying as well. ;.; this made me very happy (and sad) author!anon! thank you!
AuthorAnon~
anonymous
October 7 2009, 23:30:11 UTC
I'm glad it brought about that kind of reaction! ^^ It's semi-based on my real life experience, since my dog has cancer and she's not expected to last four months, so...Anyway, glad you enjoyed it! Thanks for commenting, Anon! :D
“Ar…thur?” Alfred rasped out weakly. The Briton’s heart clenched, but he swallowed and turned to look at his beautiful American. His skin was so…so pale that when he was asleep, it looked as though he were all ready dead. He was so skinny some of his bones were starting to show. Alfred looked so tired, but his eyes remained strong and bright.
Arthur almost choked on a sob.
“Yes, Alfred?” he replied, his voice stronger than he felt as he rubbed the American’s knuckles. Arthur’s touches were gentle, as though Alfred would shatter into a million pieces. The blond idiot smiled up at him, tired, soft, and it carried so much love that the Briton almost broke down into tears right then and there.
“I…” Alfred coughed, squeezing the Briton’s hand tightly, as though if he let go he would let go of life. Arthur ran his fingers through the American’s hair soothingly, continuing to caress him even when the coughs stopped. He waited patiently for Alfred to catch his breath, inwardly damning the cancer that was killing the beautiful man. “I…want you to…promise me something, o…okay?”
Arthur swallowed, his mouth suddenly as dry as India in the summer.
“Okay,” the Briton murmured, meeting those intense sky blue eyes. There was no fear in them, nothing to hint at his suffering. All those shards of sky held were gentleness, love, and understanding. Arthur closed his eyes, holding the American’s hand close to his cheek. He couldn’t stand how cold Alfred felt.
“I…want you to…live life to its fullest. If…if you can’t do it…for yourself, then…just do it for…for me,” Alfred’s voice, though weak, held so much passion that it took Arthur by surprise. Surprised emerald met serious blue, and Arthur mutely nodded his promise. The American sighed in relief and closed his eyes, falling back into sleep’s open arms.
~*~*~*
When Alfred was diagnosed with cancer, the doctor told them straight up that he might not even last four months. If he lasted longer, it was the work of a miracle. The American had insisted that they stay in Alfred’s house for as long as the sick man still had life. Arthur had hesitated before agreeing, understanding that his boyfriend wouldn’t want to die in the Briton’s house. That would have been too cruel.
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Gilbert, Roderich, Ludwig, and Elizaveta were the second most common visitors. Elizaveta would show off all of the pictures she had of everyone to Alfred, reminding him that everyone loved him, even if they didn’t show it. Sometimes, the Austrian would play the piano if everyone begged for it. Alfred always requested something cheerful and upbeat. Gilbert and the American would get into mini arguments over who was more awesome, but sometimes they would just reminisce over how they were both awesome with each other.
Ivan, Toris, and Feliks were next. Feliks would ramble non-stop about something that had happened. Toris would shake his head and make sure Alfred was comfortable. Ivan and the American would talk, rekindling the friendship they had once shared so long ago. They had a huge argument five years before, but at least the sickness had allowed the two to reconcile with the past and forgive the other.
Kiku and Yao came to visit rarely, mainly because they were so busy. The Chinese man would tell stories of when his brothers were younger, causing the normally stoic Kiku to blush quite a few times. Kiku would talk to the American about various games they had played in the past.
~*~*~*
Four months later…
“Arthur,” Alfred said, his voice a soft whisper. Arthur leaned in closer to make sure he heard what the American was going to say. His blue eyes were slightly unfocused, but the Briton ignored that. “Please…would you call everyone over?”
He nodded, hugging the man gently before making the phone calls.
~*~*~*
It took a few hours, but finally everyone was gathered around Alfred’s bed. He looked at them all, a bright, familiar smile on his face. The American looked like he was going to be okay, but they would only be deluding themselves if they thought that Alfred was going to survive this. He looked at them all in turn, still smiling.
“Thanks for visiting me, really,” he told them weakly. In that moment, Alfred looked so tired, yet so strong and brave, that a couple sobs were heard amongst those gathered. The American’s smile turned sad, but it was still soft with kindness and understanding. He gestured for Arthur and Matthew to come closer.
“I’m not afraid,” Alfred whispered. He sighed and closed his eyes. “Please…stay with me…all of you.”
There were nods all around. The American gave another, tired sigh, and seemed to fall asleep.
Tears flowed like waterfalls when not even a minute after he had closed his eyes, Alfred was gone. Yet, none cried more so than Arthur and Matthew, who screamed for the American to return to them.
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this made me very happy (and sad) author!anon! thank you!
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