Fake (Hetalia: FrUkUs)

.19.

That afternoon, I fell face first onto Francis' couch, exhausted from that day.

"She's got such a spirit for an old woman," I mused aloud, "Good Lord, she's gonna be the death of me." I dragged my hand over my face, grabbing my glasses in the process. I laid them on the table and rolled over onto my back, staring up at the ceiling as my eyes drifted shut.

'Still. I can't wait to see her tomorrow.'

~

"Alfred," A hand rested on my shoulder, "Alfred, Cher, please wake up. If you sleep all afternoon, you'll be tired tomorrow."

I slowly woke up, taking in the hazy surroundings around me. I was so exhausted.

"Art..." I trailed off, barely keeping my eyes open.

"No, it's Francis."

"Fran..." I sighed and trailed off. "Shh..." I wanted to go back to sleep.

"Can't do that," He chuckled, "You have to be awake tomorrow."

Being awake sounded like a hassle, but he was right.

"Keep me up," I said, not bothering to try and open my eyes or sit up.

"And, how should I do that?" He asked, obviously amused.

"Sleep with me," I lazily raised a hand, and brushed it against his shirt before dropping it again.

"I don't think that will help you stay up, Al," Something touched my head, and I realized he was petting my hair. It felt good and I sighed in content.

"You're like a cat," I heard him say. Was that a good or bad thing. I asked him. "I think it's good," He told me.

"Good," I blinked my eyes open and looked up at him, "I'm sorry," I whispered.

"For what?" He asked, his brow furrowing.

"Yesterday," I said, and his hand stopped moving. "I'm sorry I did that, and I'm sorry you had to see." It had to have been so awful. "It was pathetic and selfish of me."

He said nothing more, and I figured he was letting me fall back to sleep. His hand moved from my head, and I frowned but said nothing. He took my left hand in both of his, and brushed his lips over the back of it, making my eyes snap open in surprise.

"There isn't a pathetic bone in your body," He whispered against my skin, and I felt my face heat up.

"But, I am selfish," I took my hand back and stuffed it under my pillow. I laid my head down on top of the white ball of feathers, and looked at him sideways. He was blurry, but my glasses still lay on the coffee table behind him.

"It's alright to be selfish, Alfred," He reached out and gently took my arm again, this time slowly rolling up the sleeve to reveal recent and deep wounds, "But, when you wish to do things like this," He traced the long cuts, "You need to remember that selfishness has the ability to hurt others."

"Why would it hurt you?" The question left my lips before I could stop it. He smiled, I could tell that much.

"I have work tonight," He stood, letting me take my arm back, though my hand felt cold once he let go. "I'll be back late, so I'll see you in the morning."

He was about to leave when he turned around, leaned down, and left a lingering kiss on my cheek.

If my face wasn't red before, it sure as Hell was now. His lips were warm against my skin, and it took a surprising amount of self-control not to lean into that heat.

Then the heat, and him, were gone. Out the door and away from me.

I closed my eyes and sighed.

What was wrong with me?

~

The following day was sunny, and my fear of storm's were burned away. It was cold outside though, being late in November, but it hadn't snowed yet.

I wore black slacks and polished black dress shoes, much to my displeasure, but I wore an untucked white dress shirt, as well as a navy colored tie that I left loose. It topped it all off with my signature bomber jacket

Sure, today was a memorial, but it was a memorial for my brother. And, I knew better than anyone that he would kick my ass if I had made all those attending dress as it it was a second funeral.

'Jeeze, cheer up, Al,' I could hear him saying, 'stop mourning already and start partying.' The problem was, I was always mourning. But, just for today, I would party for him. Like I did this day every year.

Francis was in the shower, so I took the time to call Ivan on my laptop. He answered after a few moments.

"I was hoping you would answer," I chuckled.

"Is there something you needed?" He looked at me, or rather the camera, with confusion.

"Ah, well..." I was caught off guard by the question. It wasn't what I had expected. "Today is-"

"I know," His voice seemed tight. Had I made him upset? How- I just called him! I met his eyes through the screen and sighed. "Are you alright?" He asked, repositioning himself so he was more comfortable.

"No," I answered honestly, "Not today." Not ever. "It's just because of-"

"I know, Al," I looked up shocked as he said my name. It was rare that we used each others names like that. Old habits die hard and all that. I really worried he was angry, but then I noticed the look in his eyes. He wasn't angry, he was sad.

"I wish I could be there," He said sadly. He cleared his throat and I nodded.

"I know," I ran a hand down my face and my lip trembled, "I wish you were here, too." I whispered.

"Nyet- No, Fredka, don't cry," His voice was laced with concern, and his own eyes began to water.

"I'm sorry," I said, rubbing at my eyes, "But, it's been four years. He's been dead for four years."

"I know," His voice cracked, "Chert, I wish I was there." He dropped a fist to the table. "I wish I could be there with you."

"Me too," I said, " I wish you were here, Vanya," I pressed the palms of my hands into my eyes, "I need you."

".... Fredka," I wiped under my glasses and looked at him. "Do you remember when you asked me that question. If I thought it was possible to love more than one person." I nodded, "And do you remember my reply?"

"Of course," I quoted him.

"I love you, Alfred," He told me, "And I always will."

I bit my lip and forced my tears away.

"I love you, too."

I wish I would learn to pay more attention to my surroundings.

I wish I had noticed when the shower turned off.