USUK/UKUS One Shots

Revolutionary (Angst)

Warnings: Sad

Summary: Arthur's feelings during the American War of Independence

Word count: 469

Estimated read time: 2 mins 30 seconds

Arthur's POV

The first time I saw you, it was revolutionary. I hadn't been the best version of myself in a long time. That changed for you. 

When you laughed, it was radical. I lived for that laugh. I'd have done just about anything to hear it, watch your radiant smile spread across your face, and see the stars shine in your eyes. 

Your touches were subversive to me. With each hug, each shoulder brush, each time our hands bumped into one another, I felt myself crumble into you just a little bit more. You had me wrapped around your finger, even if you didn't know it.

When we first kissed, it felt like there was a riot in my gut, flipping my insides around and making me dizzy. I didn't think it'd ever happen, but there we were: my hand in your hand, my lips on your lips, endless. 

You were inspirational, and I could listen to you talk for hours, whether it was late at night under soft blankets, in the easy mornings when your eyes would only half-open, or on walks through the crisp, cool air. The passion in your voice captivated me, plus it frequently was accompanied by that smile I loved so dearly. Almost as much as I loved you. 

We laced our fingers together when we went out, rebelling against the norm. They couldn't contain us, and we wouldn't let them try. You and I were making our own way, together. 

The defiance that was in your voice when someone else tried to hurt me was a hurricane. It made me feel safe and good, knowing you cared that much. What I didn't know was that I was in the eye of that hurricane. 

One day I woke up and realized that your accent had been changing. 

Fighting with you was turmoil- tears, screams, words that couldn't be taken back. You said you wanted freedom, I said you already had it. You said that I was neglectful, I said that wasn't true. You said that it was over, I begged you not to leave.

The war was anarchy. We both did terrible things, stabbed one another in the back to try to win. You thought that the mere fact that I was trying to hold onto you proved that I didn't love you. I think it proved just how much I did.

But you won. I couldn't hurt you anymore. The day your uprising paid off, the day in Yorktown that I gave up, you celebrated. There were cheers in the streets. I didn't cheer. I sobbed. 

I told myself that you would come back. You never did. 

The last time I saw you was revolutionary. I had been the best version of myself for a long time. That changed because of you.