The England Experiment

I promise to relax when you're here

Arthur ended up throwing himself into work, or at least trying. Ludwig would find him at every moment he was able sitting at the table in the living room, pouring over paperwork and files. Apparently, he had asked his country's leader to simply send all the work they could, and he would complete it in the time he wasn't in Great Britain. Sometimes Ludwig saw himself in Arthur, a man he recognised, and other times he wouldn't be so sure. Other times Arthur would be somebody he didn't know, a man he hadn't seen for decades. 

He was quiet, silent unless someone directly addressed him, and never talked of what he was thinking, what he felt. It was difficult for most of them to speak to him, it became like talking to a wall, or to a person that simply was trying their best to ignore you. Although Ludwig was positive that Arthur needed a voice, he couldn't manage, he had never been great at talking to people, and speaking with England on anything but work seemed impossible. That was where Feliciano came in. 

Most times the Italian's ability to talk endlessly about nothing and somehow engage the other person was annoying, and Ludwig spent much of his time attempting to avoid such conversations. But when Feliciano would just sit on the sofa next to Arthur's table and talk to him for hours and hours whilst he worked, Ludwig was unsure if he would ever be more grateful. 

Days blended together and Arthur's wounds took some time to heal. Occasionally the cuts would split open, but Arthur would never make a fuss. Ludwig remembered the first time it happened, and the nation had hardly said a word.

"Roderich? I understand that you treated my wounds at first?" his brother had looked up from his piano sheets and set his pen down. 

"Yes, indeed I did. Is there a problem? I do suppose we need to change the bandages soon..."

"If you have some time, I think a few of the cuts have split." Roderich had looked up to see Arthur's shoulder stained red, and blood dripped down his right arm, Arthur catching falling droplets with his other hand. He stood up in shock, rushing over. 

"Mein Gott! Arthur why didn't you say something?!"

Ludwig shuddered at the memory. Because of that, it had been hard to tell when Arthur was in pain, or when he was inside his mind. The German could never make out whether the nation was simply thinking, or was somewhere else entirely. Whether his small gasp was due to a mildly shocking report on financing or an unbearable pain.

Francis would always know. 

The other day Ludwig remembered them sitting in the living room, they had been reading, and Francis had sat beside Arthur on a sofa.

Arthur went to reach for his tea, that sat in a delicate saucer on a nearby table. He had hesitated for a moment, pausing as he lent forward. He hadn't said anything, but Francis had glanced up worryingly, wrapping his hand around England's. 

"Angleterre? It hurts, doesn't it?" 

"Oh shut up, frog."

But Arthur had clenched Francis' hand, his knuckles whitening. 

_________________

Ludwig didn't remember weeks passing but they did, and slowly Arthur began to be more like himself. It was his common, snappy, cynical attitude, with a careful eye and a sly smile, but Ludwig couldn't have missed it more.

Francis sighed, smiling, and texted someone on his phone.

"What, looking to flirt with someone you can't see, frog?"

Francis rolled his eyes.

"Non, mon petit lapin, if you had looked at your phone at all you would know that we will have visitors today."