Memories of Ghosts

Twelve: Cursed to Remember

**SCHOOL'S OUT, BITCHES! That means more writing, researching, and fangirling time! This chapter took longer than I thought it was gonna be but, nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it. But now that I just finished my last exam, I'm gonna go sleep for 12 hours.

Carry on, my wayward sons! (wrong fandom, I know)**

30 March 2017

Arthur made it off the ferry with very little conversation with Francis; obviously the stars have aligned for this to happen, he believed with a heavy huff. It mainly had to do with Kiku trying to keep up with different topics of discussion with him (poor lad, that's probably the most I've ever heard him speak) while Antonio just went on with being his happy, talkative self—of course, Francis wouldn't dare to interrupt his dear friend's busy chatter just to annoy or poke at Arthur a bit more.

He still felt Francis's spying eyes glimpse at his back or shoulder from time to time. It might have looked like an innocent glance to any witnesses surrounding them, but it felt like a drill penetrating through his brain. He grimaced and tried to be the two thousand-year-old man he was and ignore the prying eyes while honestly responding to Kiku's focuses of discussion.

He scanned the orange sky above them and the hectic streets of New York City. The countries around him either made their final goodbyes to one another with handshakes or friendly hugs or they started heading for the city, some going solo while others clustered together in small groups or pairs. He sensed Kiku's presence coming up behind him, so he turned around to properly face him.

"If it's strictly American food you seek," he informed him, "then you can purchase a nice size heart attack at nearly every street corner. Type two diabetes is also sold regularly here and I'm not entirely certain how you'll manage."

Kiku slipped in a tiny smirk as he combed his fingers through his long bangs. "You say such vulgar things about Mr. America's home—I think it's safe to say that you won't be staying here much longer?"

"That's right. My queen requested me back at the palace as soon as possible, which is why I am to board a plane first thing in the morning."

Though it was true that he booked a flight to London that departed at eight the next morning, it was false that his current queen demanded him to be back immediately. In fact, she even told him to take a break, to spend some time away from occupational matters.

And now, with visions of his deceased wife slowly taking control of his thoughts, he was exceptionally glad that he didn't directly obey his queen's orders—all he wanted right now was to go back home.

Kiku nodded. "Understandable. It seems like you are stuck with business at the moment, so I won't take too much of your time if you are to get up early tomorrow morning."

Arthur shook his head and started to tell him that there was nothing to worry about, but Kiku spoke before he had a chance to; his small eyes blinked at something behind Arthur's shoulder and his thin eyebrows raised in interest.

"Ah, I'm very sorry, but I would like to schedule appointments with Mr. Russia and China before they leave. One moment, please."

He turned his head to watch Kiku lightly jog over to the two countries who were exchanging notes with one another; they both were apparently on the same page as Kiku.

"So, your queen wants you back home, n'est pas?"

The curious voice of Francis made Arthur clamp his teeth together in mild (but rising) irritation. He snapped toward him with an obvious look of disdain; Francis was looking at him with elevated eyebrows and an indistinct smile.