Be Well, My Darling (Fruk)

Chapter 11: America

"Dear Francis,

I am writing this letter to you, as I have been because I write in hopes you will see it one day. Or maybe hear me say what's on my mind. It has been five-hundred and sixty-one days since I lost you. That is eight hundred and seven thousand, eight hundred and forty minutes. That is forty-eight million four hundred and seventy thousand and four hundred long and continuous counting seconds.

Yesterday, I saw someone I thought was you. He was a random man, but from behind, his hair looked as you kept it. I had frozen seeing them, and instead of feeling happy that I could have seen you, I felt sad. They were not you, after all.

The moon feels blue on nights I continue to think about you. My dearest Francis, I think of you daily. Writing that down is an understatement. I think of you too much. I may not be vocal, but I think of you constantly. I wish I could be open about it, but I feel no one would understand how I truly feel.

I wouldn't feel whole until you were in my arms again. I've been trying to gather everything to save you, but I fear it won't be enough. You have, even in absence, held onto my heart. I truly believe that once I see you again, not only will I fight the urge to slap you, but I will make sure that my feelings will be buried deep into the end of this war.

These feelings have been stressful in your absence, and I can only take so much. Francis, you are everything and more to me, but I need to let these feelings go. I can't keep going like this because it hurts me. Maybe, I am hoping, that the longer you are gone, the faster I can move on.

You will still always be a dear friend to me, but I can no longer give you my heart the way a lover would give their body a kiss. If I see you one day, I wonder if showing you this letter would be idiotic. That would mean I would have confessed and rejected you all in one sitting.

Well...the confession part is true.

My dearest, I look forward to seeing you face to face. If not in life, then hopefully in death. I believe that dying, knowing I'd see you again, would be better than living eternity without you. I love you like the butterflies love flowers in spring. You are everything and more I could ever ask for, and I need to see you once more.

Once more before I let my feelings go. I want you to cry in my arms as I hold you. I want to hear you say thank you and tell me you love me. That is all I ask; that's all I need. I worry that if I continue writing, I won't ever stop because I have so much I want to say.

This paper is a representation of you, and my pen is me. I write you with the utmost adoration. I sincerely hope that if I never lose my feelings, I can gather the courage to tell you them. However, I have a feeling I know how that would go.

Be well, My Darling

Arthur"

I took a breath out as I finished writing the letter. It was indeed one of many I had written. I began folding it up, placing it inside the desk drawer beside me. I think I would die if Francis ever read these. One day, I will burn these letters to symbolize the feelings burning away. That is what I'd do when all of this was over.

"MR. ENGLAND! SOMETHING TERRIBLE HAS HAPPENED!"

The door slammed open, and how many people had entered my office threw me off. Mr. Russia was supposed to come by later today; I was worried that something terrible had happened to him.

"What's happened?"

Many of the people who came began to talk over each other, and it was hard to understand anything being said. "Please, slow down; tell me what's happened!" I spoke. I began to calm everyone down, and the first person spoke. "It is Mr. America! Japan attacked him. They attacked Pearl Harbor. The president, Mr. America himself, and their representatives want to meet with us! I believe they are joining the war!"

My eyes widened, and my heart shattered hearing what happened. Everyone looked at me, waiting for a response, yet I was speechless. "Okay? We will meet with them at once!" I spoke. I began to stand up, and more people began to talk over each other.

"Mr. America and Mr. China have agreed to be allies already, and Mr. China requests to be part of the meeting."

"Perfect, I was meeting Mr. Russia today anyway; we can all talk to each other," I spoke. I had gathered myself calmly, even though I was freaking out. "I will talk to Mr. America right now. I plan to call him. I will tell him that I plan to meet with him later today or on his own accord," I said. I began to push everyone out of my office, and many began worrying.

Seriously? Did they always have to come to me? What was the point of having leaders if they weren't going to do the job they were hired to do? Churchill should be handling these things, but no! I have to find ways to meet with nations and figure out a plan before we can propose anything. It is ridiculous if you asked me. They were contradicting what they wanted us to be involved with. Sometimes they wanted us to be involved, but other times they wanted us to shut up and do what we were told. It did not make any sense, yet I didn't have much choice.

I don't have a choice in anything, and I'm always thrown under the bus to pick up the pieces and deal with the things they don't want to deal with. I wish I could die! I was tired of all of this! I only cared about getting Francis back and ensuring my boys were safe.