Hetalia One-Shots

Phone Call (UsUk)

 "Hey Arthur," Alfred's voice, hoarse and strained, rang out through the static on the voicemail and echoed through the now silent halls. "Look I just wanted to say..." With a harsh jab of a finger followed by a sharp beep, he was cut off.

"Do you want to delete this message?" The woman's robotic voice droned impassively. Arthur's hands trembled as his hand hovered over the dial pad. "Press one to delete message..." Another harsh jab, "Message saved."

A warm blanket of golden light flooded in through the tall windows of the Briton's library catching the small fluttering fragments of dust in its spotlight. The room smelled of the leatherbacks and old paper of the books piled on top of a long walnut wood table in haphazard stacks. All gently worn from years of kind use. The serenity of the scene only broken by the distinctly loud voice resonating off of silent walls.

"Dude, Artie, you're like the only guy I know who still doesn't have a cell phone." Arthur pointedly ignored the younger man in favor of organizing his bookshelf. He had been putting it off for far too long. Figures, that when he decided to start his little project Alfred would show up for a visit. "C'mon dude. What if I have t' tell you somethin' important." Out of the corner of his emerald eye, Arthur could see the light catching in the younger man's hair. He looked like an angel. With his shining eyes, blue like a calm sea, and his blonde hair surrounded in a soft golden halo. And his smile. His smile was bright, bright enough to dull the sun. And once could dissipate the darkest of clouds covering his heart.

He shoved the book into its new place on the shelf. It trembled slightly. "The day anything relevant comes out of your mouth will be the day I die of shock."

Alfred pouted, childishly. "Pfft! Mean!"

"And didn't I tell you not to refer to me as 'Artie' or 'Art' or any other ridiculous nicknames you may come up with."

"So, caterpillar brows is out of the question?" Arthur smacked him with a book but couldn't help but catch the tiniest fraction of his undeniably infectious thousand watt smile. Alfred playfully plucked the book out of his hand and started idly flipping through the pages. His smile faltered slightly and an uncharacteristically grim look swept over his features. "Arthur, seriously..."

"I don't need a mobile." Arthur interrupted, "Because there is nothing you can say to me that you are not perfectly capable of telling me in person. You never announce it when you come over anyways. And if you're so urgent about speaking with me call my landline."

"You're a really weird guy." Alfred laughed, "Stubborn too." The Brit smiled fondly.

"Talk about the pot calling the kettle black."

Shadows danced across the dark room partially illuminated by the soft white light of a small screen and the bright orange dial pad. The words One Saved Message were displayed in boxy pixelated letters. Jab. Menu. Jab. Messages. Jab.

"Hey Arthur, look I just wanted to say..." Arthur inhaled sharply as the message continued. He couldn't do this. They were wrong he wasn't ready, not yet at least. He needed to hang on just a bit longer...

Plaster gray clouds hung low above the city the air was heavy with humidity and uncomfortably warm. Arthur could feel the sticky hot air covering his skin and the sweat forming at his temples yet despite this he sat in the wilting grass replacing the dead shriveled flowers with a thriving bouquet of the blue flowers that he had loved so much.

"Arthur, mon cher, it's been over a year now." Francis's nimble fingers traced the edge of his grave and stopped thoughtfully at the engraving.

In memory of Alfred F. Jones, he will forever remain our hero.

"...I just wanted to say... please answer Arthur I--I need to know that you get this--" Alfred's voice broke and there was only silence and the crackling sound of static over the receiver. "I--just know that no matter what happens, I will always love you, Arthur." The line went dead.

"You bloody git," Arthur murmured to himself numb and unable to stop the silent tears falling down his face. "Why did you always have to be the damn hero?"

Author's Note: I'm a terrible person. Enough said.