Sorry, My Boyfriend is Just Kind Of Old-Fashioned [Hetalia England x reader]

Chapter 15- The Solace of Solitude

A fashionable and pretty lady-- somewhere in her mid-twenties-- sat alone, on the tube.

(Name) watched the speeding lights of the underground flash past. She was just getting back from work, not school now-- and she knew from day after day of riding it that the train was just about to emerge from the underground portion and into the light.

Hope there'll be sun today, she mused.

That's right, she lived in London now. Sun was more common than stereotypes would care to admit, and on a lovely day, the bright light illuminating both coloured building and brick would bring a smile to her face.

Good to be here, she thought.

She had last seen Arthur ten years ago-- around-- she had stopped holding the anniversary in her mind a few years ago, but she couldn't shake the idea that it hovered somewhere around this time of year. September.

It was a stupidly lovely day back then too.

You stagger up off the ground and pick up your phone, which is still on the call.

"He's gone, isn't he?" asks Charlie. "The fire here stopped, suddenly. People are freaked."

"Yes, I'll be coming home. I can't..."

"Name, it was for the best--"

"You don't understand!"

"What! That you're a lovesick, selfish idiot-- and were willing to let everyone including yourself suffer for it?? I understand that plenty!"

She and Charlie hadn't spoken since. As if-- the death of two people instead of one.

She pushes it out of her mind.

She's going to meet Maurs at the airport tomorrow-- he had become a researcher and a historian, and was in and out of London often to connect with aspiring minds.

She owed it to him to get her through that tough and long time after Arthur was gone. Little Maurs. Who would have thought he would have been the one to help her through long nights and several years of therapy. But, as always-- there was an end-- whether good or bad, or, in (Name's) case-- just okay. And that was more than enough.

She remained single-- confessions and dates came and went, but they never lasted long. But, her job was fulfilling, and there did come a time when she first felt again the joy of waking up in the morning, of something, albeit small, to look forward to. A smile at work. A happy client. Praise from her supervisors. Maurs' surprise visits with bad, overpriced, London coffee and the latest research details about all of Arthur's time. She could bear to listen to it now, and dealt with it as if of an old friend. She hoped he was doing okay, in 1745. Had done, I mean.

She winced in thinking he was now dead.

(Name) rests her head on the tube window and prepares--hopes-- to be blinded by the light as they emerge from the tunnel. She closes her eyes to prevent the sudden harsh glare.

She opens her eyes.

Yes, sun. She smiles and radiates it back.