GerUk/GerEng Collection

What About Us

 A/N: So before you read, you may want to read "Letter from the Blitz" as this a fic post that letter. It is actually located in this collection, so read if you're interested. Also, this is a post WW2 fic (although nothing is really mentioned about it other than the fact its after the war and things are rough on both sides).  

Also, this was suppose to finished and posted on Sunday, but I forgot it was Father's Day which got me behind on this fic. Anyway, suspect updates from me on Sundays going forward. 

      "Bloody hell," I mutter as I collapse back onto my bed. Despite the war having been done for about a month (and the Blitz had been over for longer), my body still aches and refuses to move much. Perhaps I was finally feeling the toll of everything. 

     As I stare at the dull ceiling of white, my mind drifts to thoughts of Germany. He was probably in worse shape than me. My throat grows tight when I wonder what he's been up to. We haven't talked since before all this started. Well, that isn't completely true, I did send him a note during the Blitz, but I never got a reply back. I don't even know if he even got it.

     Growing bored and an idea forming in my head, I heave myself up off the bed. It takes a few tries, but I eventually manage. I hobble over to my desk and take out paper and a pen. For a while, I just fix my gaze on the page. Usually, I could easily write out poems, stories, letters, but this was something different. There was so much to say, but so little words to say it with. So I start with the two opening words of every letter I wrote to him, hoping ideas will start flowing:

Dear Ludwig,

     How have you been? I haven't been too good, but wars will do that to you. Anyway, I hope you are doing well. Are you stuck in your house as well? Are you eating properly? Perhaps I can send you over something.

     I'm debating whether it is the appropriate time to mention everything. Did you get a letter from me during the war? I guess it does not matter now. After all, we're both still alive. I wrote that thinking I may die. I'm pretty sure I'm out of those woods now (despite the pain I am still in).

     I'm sorry if this makes you feel even more guilty and maybe these things should be said face to face. I do not know why I'm even writing this. I suppose I am just bored being cooped up all day.

     Or maybe I miss you? I don't know. Perhaps we should get together sometime soon. We need to talk about things that happened and where our relationship stands.

Still yours (if you want),

Arthur Kirkland

     Soon after I finish my letter, I feel my eyelids begin to droop. I try to move back to my bed, but my body refused to move from its spot. After a minute or two of feeble attempts, I rest my head on the desk. Not long after I drift off to sleep.