Lost Letters (Hetalia: FrUk)

7. I'll Say It Just This Once

England sat in his recliner, his injured hand resting (wrapped) in his lap while he stared out the window. He was avoiding France's stare. He had come over suddenly, unannounced, so he already had England's annoyance, but after he had been invited in he had sat down and not said a word since. It was worrying the Englishman. And he feared that the topic France wished to discuss, was the scroll.

"Arthur," France finally said, causing the said man to inwardly panic, "I- do you know why I came over?" Was he teasing him? Did he honestly expect the stubborn Brit to admit to anything?

"I'm assuming it has to do with our bosses," Arthur said smoothly. It wasn't his fault in the first place, that that letter had been sent; it was those meddling fairies... Giggling came from a hidden corner of the room and he scowled. Bloody troublesome.

"Non, that is not the reason," France sighed. England turned his head, finally meeting the heavy gaze of his long time enemy. "I recie-" A door slammed open, cutting off his attempt to speak.

"Who the-" America appeared in the doorway, his eyes quickly looking around the room and landing on England. The instant he saw the blond he all but ran over.

"Ame-"He was cut off, once more, as the American dropped to his knees in front of the confused Englishmen, and buried his face into England's chest as he wrapped his arms around his waist.

"Alfred!" Arthur yelped at the sudden contact. "What do you think you're doing?" He was soaking wet from the outside weather and he was still wearing his shoes, which England noticed with distaste were covered in mud. Inevitably, they both ended up soaking. He was going to push the American idiot off, annoyed, when he noticed him shudder. Not shiver from the cold, but shudder once. And then it happened again, and again, and all to soon it was obvious his breathing was increasing as well.

"Alfred," His voice was much softer, "What happened?" America only bit his lip as a silent sob came from him. England looked up at France, who looked as confused as England felt. "Um, can we continue this another time?" He asked, glancing down at America quick before looking back up. "Or, rather, not at all." England didn't want to have this conversation. However, the instant he said those words, he regretted it with all his being. The hurt that crossed Francis' face made Arthur want to go over to him and.... he didn't know what he'd do. But, it didn't matter, because America had a death grip on him.

"Oui, I'll see you..." He left the sentence trailing, and left.

England pushed his feelings for the Frenchman aside and turned back to face the American in his lap. He placed a hand on his soaked hair and pet it back.

"America," He placed his other hand on his back and rubbed circles, "Can you tell me what happened?" England waited as tears joined the rain already soaking both of them. Sobs getting louder as the storm outside seemed to cry as well. "Alright," England soothed, "You don't have to say. Come on."

He somehow managed to get America to stand and led him to the bedroom he was staying in. He helped him strip to his underwear and tucked him into the bed. His sobs had calmed down, but tears still fell from his eyes. England sat on the side of the bed with a towel and began drying his hair.

"I don't know what happened to make you cry like this," He began, "But, I know that everything will work out. It'll all be okay."

"No it won't." He finally spoke for the first time. "It won't be alright!" He buried his face in the pillow. His voice was broken and cracked more than once.

"What do you-"

"It's Ki-" His voice broke and new sobs took his voice.

"Kiku?" England inquired. America nodded. "What happened with Japan?"

"He-" He bit his lip, "A-and I.... but, he-" He couldn't get control of his thoughts or mouth and stopped speaking.

"Alright," He put the towel down and ran his hand through his hair one last time, "It's alright, you don't have to continue." He was about to stand, but paused. "Would you like me to sit with you?" When he was younger, if America was ever upset, England would stay with him until he fell asleep.

America nodded and scooted over so he was laying against England. "'Till I fall 'sleep," He heard him mutter. England nodded and laid a hand on his head again and pet his hair slowly. He sat with him for forty-five minutes when he noticed America's breathing was steadying out and deepening. He sighed before standing and petting his hair one last time.

"Goodnight, Alfred."

~

The next week, England's schedule was full. Between the meeting and taking care of America, and boy did he need it, he had no time to himself. His paperwork was neverending, and he was constantly working on it whenever he had the chance, meaning during meals, when he should have been sleeping, in any downtime. He was a wreck. He hadn't slept in five days.

And America.... Oh, boy.

Every night he was crying. Every day at the world meeting he was silent with his head on the table. He had tried to act cheerful the first day, and it ended with him running from the room and not returning. England had had to go after him.

Also, France refused to speak with England. The only time he could coax a word from the man was if it was work related.

It had been a very dreary week.

~

The week passed slowly, but when it finally came to an end, England was sad to see it go. All to soon the meeting's attendees were returning to their respective countries. England had decided to see America off, despite the younger Nations protests that he'd be fine.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay longer?" England inquired as he walked with the other to the security check.

"Nah..." He trailed off and shook his head, "Tony's waitin' for me. If I don't get back he'll throw a tantrum and start with the crop circles again." He sighed and then held out his hand. "Thanks for letting me crash at your place dude," England took his hand.

"Of cour- yahh!" He let out an embarrassing yelp as America pulled him into what would be, if he were mortal, a bone crushing hug. He was thankful he was a Country, and the hug still hurt!

"Thanks, England," America sighed, "but, I'll be fine now. I promise." England bit his lip, but nodded.

"Alright," He managed to pull out of the blonde's grip, "Have a safe trip Alfred." He beamed as his name left England's lips, and picked up his luggage before turning and dashing off.

"See ya, Iggy!"

England smiled.

"I'll see you, Alfie."