So, short chapter, but I'll be uploading the next one very quickly, sooo...yeah.
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The next time Alfred really spoke to Arthur was after the attack on Pearl Harbor. He laid in his bed, crying out loudly for Arthur, burning with fever and fear. He could hear someone wailing to get in his room, someone with a strong British accent and a lot of pain in their tone. The door swung open, and he felt kisses all over his forehead. "It's going to be ok. I'm here for you now...I'm here.." The British voice cooed. He reached up and pulled the person closer, feeling the warmth of another body, a body smaller than his own. He was overwhelmed by the smell of rain, tea leaves, and old books. A scent so welcome that he ended up yanking this person into his bed, curling around them. He hadn't remembered Arthur being so incredibly tiny. His body felt frail and thin, but not unhealthy. He seemed a bit weaker, and Alfred wondered how Arthur had raised him. After all, he had invasions to deal with himself. It must have been hard to defend Alfred too. It brought a soft smile to his lips. "Arthur..." Alfred groaned miserably. "Yes?" Arthur whispered, but Alfred didn't say anything. He just held his brother tightly to him, drifting into a coma like sleep.
