My Only One {1/1}
anonymous
November 19 2009, 06:47:24 UTC
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They had once been so close, family even. But that was a long time ago. Now, it is rare for them to be in the same room with a slight edge of awkwardness. The weekly meeting of nations was over and the only two people left in the room were America and England. “What would you say to a coffee with me?” Alfred unexpectedly said after they both tried to walk out the single door at the same time. Unsure of what to do and without actually contemplating what was being asked, England said yes.
So there they were, at Starbucks (obviously Alfred’s choice). Alfred had his double shot venti mocha while Arthur was drinking tea. Conversation was minimal while they had waited for the barista to make their drinks, and then as they sat down by the window, Alfred brought up a new topic.
“Do you ever think back to our past? I mean, what would you do, if I was yours again?” What would I do? What do you mean, what would I do? “Do you wish to say, do I think we would be happier?” Happier, or happy? At least I realise those are two different things.
“Well, I mean, would you be happier. I already know I wouldn’t.” “Then there is your answer, no.” “I don’t want to be controlled ever again.”
Somewhere in history, their little family had been broken the rumors of Matt and Alfred were scandalous and the relationship between them had changed somewhere along the time line, turning from whatever it was they had been (had they been brothers or father and son?) to an unrequited love, at least on Arthur’s side. And it was love, there was no point denying it to himself. Because he had known, he had always known, that even as Alfred pointed his gun at him, Arthur wouldn’t have been able to actually pull the trigger on Alfred. As miserable as he was without his family, including Alfred, deep down, he did prefer America be happy without him than miserable with him. But don’t let that act of selflessness fool you, for he knew was actually rather selfish of him.
It would be a lie to say he wasn’t without fault. Without the control he used to have, Arthur could always pretend Alfred would be better off with him. Without the control, he can blame the mistakes on Alfred or Alfred’s boss. And then, his self control did slip. There were times when he would go out drinking with Francis and the Frenchman would take his cell away out of courtesy, to assure that Alfred wouldn’t get any random late night phone calls cussing him out for anything and everything.
But I still love you. Please, believe it somewhere in your heart even if your mind disagrees.
La fin -----
Ummm... author!anon is not a USUK writer nor is she much of a USUK fan (this is her first USUk-related post, although it is in no way her first post). I hope my lack of experience in writing them doesn't make them completely out of character... ^/////^
They had once been so close, family even. But that was a long time ago. Now, it is rare for them to be in the same room with a slight edge of awkwardness. The weekly meeting of nations was over and the only two people left in the room were America and England.
“What would you say to a coffee with me?” Alfred unexpectedly said after they both tried to walk out the single door at the same time. Unsure of what to do and without actually contemplating what was being asked, England said yes.
So there they were, at Starbucks (obviously Alfred’s choice). Alfred had his double shot venti mocha while Arthur was drinking tea. Conversation was minimal while they had waited for the barista to make their drinks, and then as they sat down by the window, Alfred brought up a new topic.
“Do you ever think back to our past? I mean, what would you do, if I was yours again?”
What would I do? What do you mean, what would I do?
“Do you wish to say, do I think we would be happier?”
Happier, or happy? At least I realise those are two different things.
“Well, I mean, would you be happier. I already know I wouldn’t.”
“Then there is your answer, no.”
“I don’t want to be controlled ever again.”
Somewhere in history, their little family had been broken the rumors of Matt and Alfred were scandalous and the relationship between them had changed somewhere along the time line, turning from whatever it was they had been (had they been brothers or father and son?) to an unrequited love, at least on Arthur’s side. And it was love, there was no point denying it to himself. Because he had known, he had always known, that even as Alfred pointed his gun at him, Arthur wouldn’t have been able to actually pull the trigger on Alfred. As miserable as he was without his family, including Alfred, deep down, he did prefer America be happy without him than miserable with him. But don’t let that act of selflessness fool you, for he knew was actually rather selfish of him.
It would be a lie to say he wasn’t without fault. Without the control he used to have, Arthur could always pretend Alfred would be better off with him. Without the control, he can blame the mistakes on Alfred or Alfred’s boss.
And then, his self control did slip. There were times when he would go out drinking with Francis and the Frenchman would take his cell away out of courtesy, to assure that Alfred wouldn’t get any random late night phone calls cussing him out for anything and everything.
But I still love you. Please, believe it somewhere in your heart even if your mind disagrees.
La fin
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Ummm... author!anon is not a USUK writer nor is she much of a USUK fan (this is her first USUk-related post, although it is in no way her first post).
I hope my lack of experience in writing them doesn't make them completely out of character... ^/////^
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