[Archive] Wonderwall [PRP][Possibly Mature?]

[England]

London Blitz
6th of October 1940

Twenty nine nights. Twenty nine nights of London being consecutively bombed, and it showed no signs of stopping any time soon, yet it wasn't just London. The krauts were ripping his country to pieces in a shower of fire, a fire that was destroying his land and people. It hurt. Every part of him was burning, vast gashes and lacerations torn into his flesh that had now rendered him incapable of even helping the ones of his land.

Were he able to look over the scene he'd no doubt dub it an utter abolition of his pride that he'd been rendered to a bedridden state, unable to genuinely coordinate himself past perhaps a room away. A bother when he wanted nothing more than to simply go out there and help, help his people which would no doubt refuse to break. Hitler presumed that something like this would break the will of a nation, and yet it was obvious the fool had never met the British. He was weak enough to copy what it was Arthur's own people had near enough been the forerunners in, simply to a greater extreme. There was no way at all that his own methods would break him, and indeed they hadn't... mentally. It was his body that was the one that betrayed him here, and whilst his mind was more than willing his body was simply not. Especially not with the recent onset of a fucking well fever. In the depths of his mind he couldn't help but think that this whole thing was a right pain in the ass, and Germany was going to pay tenfold when he got out of this damn bed.

Shifting slightly under the covers he made a sharp hissing noise as he sucked in air, pushing himself up with involuntary wincing as he went. Lifting a hand slightly he pushed the covers off his arm, tightly wrapped bandages suddenly starkly present. He'd forgone his usual pyjamas now, instead falling to wearing only a pair of loose fitting slacks that sagged at his waist when he stood. Anything else was too warm and too tight, putting pressure where he didn't want it. As it stood even with only the bandages there were still blooms of blood across the bandages, the worst of which was the stain marking his chest like some violent testament to just how far he had fallen.

Twisting himself carefully he slid his legs over the side of the bed, pushing them into the drab slippers on the floor and pulling a thick bathrobe over himself a he hauled himself fully out of bed. A light groan escaping his lips as he staggered forwards momentarily, slender fingers wrapping around a bed post to stop himself falling. Everything was slender about him now, rationing and present illness having stripped his frame down to nothing more than muscle and bone. Though not a small man his slight build had become something almost frail looking, and whilst he'd resent any comment on such it was true. There was to be no denying it.

Limping across the room he seated himself upon the window-ledge, leaning against the window as he wrapped his arms loosely around himself. Letting his head flop forwards he pushes his cheek against the cool glass, careful to avoid putting pressure on the bandage around his head. For now it was midday, no more than 12pm, there... were a few hours before it started again. In the end that didn't really matter as he fell asleep once more, sweat rolling from heated skin.

London was burning, and he could do nothing but sit and sleep.

[aniskywolf]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style,padding: 40px 0px 10px 0px; height: 240px; background-image: url(http://i53.tinypic.com/notvgl.jpg);][atrb=vAlign,bottom] Backbeat the word was on the street That the fire in your heart is out I'm sure you've heard it all before But you never really had a doubt I don't believe that anybody feels The way I do about you now

[bg=5b2935][atrb=style,padding: 20px;border-top: 3px solid #FFFFFF;] Don't get involved, they said. Just stay out of trouble, they said. With a shaky sigh he couldn't help but feel terribly nervous. Radio transmissions back in the states told the tale of merciless bombings for days on end that saw no real end in sight. The weight of such varied, but when the worst came, the worst was indeed upon the small land to which he was supposed to be allied to. And yet his country made no real effort to swoop in. And what kind of hero was that, exactly? Rubbing the bridge of his nose he wondered why he was so held back. Though in a way it was to keep out of a war that had nothing to do with him. The last Great War... that was because they were threatened. This... they hadn't been threatened yet. All he could do was sit and watch despite the fact his heart ached to do something. Anything. The men that passed themselves as Canadians did so in a battle that ended perhaps a month prior. Gave their lives for the greater good. And what was Alfred doing, exactly? Sitting around and looking pretty at a military base to check up on things before leaving again. For once he felt useless, and right now, all his country was willing to do was send supplied. Because they thought that was enough. It wasn't. Regardless, he was here now, even if he was just being a bystander about the whole thing. He was here, assessing things. Though something was bothering him a great deal. If this was the fate that was befalling the small country, how was the person? Suddenly he stood and walked over to the exit, to which someone asked him as to where he was going. He responded by simply looking back and then heading out, despite obvious dangers of doing so. He was a foolish man in general, no doubt. And yet he took risks that usually were to his favor. Usually. The sight was eerie and debris was in every little thing, everywhere. Dust and powdered concrete and buildings on the edge of collapse. He felt a sense of urgency and looked for the one who he had been fretting over since all this started. Germans, he thought, liked to cause problems. Always. Instigators, and not in the nicest ways either. He simply hoped Arthur was at least breathing. Making his way into a building to which he assumed the Englishman was in, he carefully made his way up to his room, the door failing to be completely closed. A simple crack and he slowly pushed it open, nervous as to what exactly he would walk into. Low and behold, he was there, though the sight of him created a sharp pain in him that had him fully awake and alert, a pang of worry through him that he failed to express really. Instead he held it in, but his eyes betrayed him as such feelings were expressed in the glow of blue irises that were now lacking the glimmer that they previously had. He closed the door behind him slowly until he heard the click, walking forward a bit but giving a considerable amount of distance. He'd never seen a more banged up Arthur before in his life, and quite frankly, he didn't want to have to see this. Though out of the goodness and worry that was within his heart he came anyway. Came to see how he was. Came to see if he was still hanging in there. Came to see if caring would at least boost morale. "England...?" Low tones that America wasn't known for was perhaps the best. "My god..." Swallowing a bit in nervousness he looked the other over one more time. "I-Y-you... " He failed to find the appropriate words. "I came to see you.." Obviously. "We receive reports back home and... I just had to." In the back of his mind he wondered how England would exactly react to his appearance. His look was soft and started to show some of the worry which he was previously attempting to hold back. He wanted to say something. Something, anything that would perhaps have this moment feel less awkward. To perhaps have this feel a bit better for the both of them. In the end he wondered if he was going to be shooed away like he always tended to be. Then again, he did the reverse. They were as bad as each other but now, he hoped, he simply hoped, this would not be the case. If this would allow for that one window of hope in which they could be able to get along, or at least allow each other to tolerate, then that would be fine. America shouldn't be here, not really. This was not his war, not yet. But he was making this moment happen. This moment of seeing the other in such a state. He chose this, and he wished he could make it better.

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[England]

“England...?”

He shifted slightly, slurred words spilling from his mouth as he tightened his grip on himself seeking solace. There was none. In the end all there was was the voice of another, someone saying his name. He didn't know who, and nor could he make it out really, but the idea that someone was there and that holyfuck they were probably an enemy was enough to force him to open his eyes slowly. Lifting his head somewhat he blinked blearily, twisting himself with a quiet whine he fixed dilated eyes on the figure who really shouldn't have been there. Who it was remained beyond him, feverish mind unable to really comprehend what should have been a familiar figure. In truth though it wasn't, and nor had it been for a long time. Alfred had changed so much, and was no longer who he'd once been.

Arthur no longer knew him.

"My god...I-Y-you... I came to see you.. We receive reports back home and... I just had to."

Ah, the voice, he was sure he knew that voice from somewhere... an American. America... ah, yes, America. How cruel that was, for him to come now when Arthur was at his lowest. Perhaps he thought it was nothing more than a game, staying away until the opportune in which he could return and laugh. Arthur knew he'd fallen so far, and he needed no reminding of it... and yet... why would Alfred be here? He didn't care, Arthur knew that. He'd shown that time and time again with words and actions, so he was less than convinced about the legitimacy of his presence. Had he come to the point of hallucinations, now? Them along with anything. That simply wasn't fair, really, for his mind to bring up images of Alfred. He who was so far away... haha, fat git was probably eating one of those vile burger things he was so fond of. Happy as can be, obviously...

Obviously...

He hurt, this time internally. Alfred was gone, and never coming back. He knew that, he knew that so well. Yet his mind was still forcing him to believe what he shouldn't, and why would it do that? Because he still wanted what he couldn't have, obviously. It was amazing how something so simple had tilted his views. Wounds no longer mattered so much, because his mind was destroying him on a much greater level. Still, perhaps... would it be so wrong to humour himself this once? He didn't know, but even so he muttered a slurred “'lfred...” rather than rejectful insults. He wanted Alfred back, and if it took a deluded hallucination to give him that.... then he'd take it. Maybe it was wrong of him, but really, he was sick of fighting now. He just needed someone, and with a lack of a better option.. well, why not?

[aniskywolf]

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[bg=5b2935][atrb=style,padding: 20px;border-top: 3px solid #FFFFFF;] “ 'lfred...” His heart ached something painful as the other slurred his name with effort. Was this how far he'd fallen since the war had begun? Were things really that bad. Judging by the destruction, yes, but, to the person- it was more than what he had ever expected. England, ever since he was child, was always perceived as untouchable. Then during his Revolution, he saw a crack in the window. But it stayed that way for a long time. Now it simply seemed like that whole window had cracks that spiraled into a web of what could be deemed as unusable. It was amazing how a simply war could damage the nation so much. America had never had to go through damage like this. Yes, he had his share of wars, but not even his Civil War was ever this horrid. He simply wished that England would make it through, no matter what. He pulled up a chair by the other and took off his thick bomber jacket. Placing on the back of the chair he sat and put his hands on his lap, looking at the other with a worried expression that wanted to say something but the words died as he swallowed them in nervousness and stress. He wanted to do something, he so very did. But what could he do? Not only was his nation not involved, but he also could not do anything personally. Nothing he would say would make it feel better or make the pain go away. His superior strength wouldn't fend away the enemy. Nothing. Simply he felt that only his presence would help. He wet his lips slightly in trying to find words, each time failing as he sighed and ran fingers through his sandy blond hair. This hurt him more than it should. "I'm here... Arthur." He sighed and looked into glossy eyes. "If you need anything..." Rubbing his arm he looked around the room quickly to find words. "I'm sorry I couldn't be here earlier." It wasn't his fault, but he was sorry anyway. Sorry he wasn't here sooner to perhaps be of more use. Though he was here now at least. Now he be that crutch to help the other walk. Just... here to be something, it seemed. He wanted to reach out, put a hand on his shoulder and tell him he'd be fine, but he couldn't. The contact would perhaps hurt him, and so hopefully he wished that his words wouldn't.

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[England]

"I'm here... Arthur. If you need anything..."

Blinking slowly he made made a hoarse laugh, curling himself against the window as best as possible. “Y'r not...” Because even if this wasn't just some whimsical conjuration of his mind Alfred had not been there in so very long. Oh, Arthur could probably touch him if he so wished. Run far too slender fingers through what he vaguely remembered to be incredibly soft hair... yet what good was that? Alfred was literally right there, yet figuratively he was long gone, and thus he just sounded so very sad despite all. This was all a fictitious belief though, so one would pardon such mannerism from a man not truly aware of the simplest of actions he was performing.

Still, tucking his cheek carefully against raised knees he kept jade eyes upon the other. Eyes once so sharp and defiant now seemed almost void. Almost. Of course he was England, and in madness and failure that meant more than any gun. He was a resoundingly stubborn nation, one so utterly defiant that under the wrong circumstances he could seem barbarically feral. There would always be a spark in those eyes, even if it was simply buried under so much else that none saw it.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be here earlier."

Giving him what could have been a critical look he sighed, the noise rattling unnaturally in his chest. “Y've no resp'nsibil'ty tuh...” He didn't. Not really. This wasn't his war, and he had no duty to Arthur personally. Why he should be showing regret was something that his fractured mind couldn't wrap itself around, and so he simply didn't try. It was simply easier to call the boy out and at least try to make his odd conjuration feel if only somewhat better about it. Of course it could have the opposite effect of this. It displayed wonderfully how much distance was there. Enough that he'd not considered the other friend enough to have any reason to care. It was something else to see just how far everything had fallen, and it was to the point that.... well he simply had no idea if such was repairable. Not after so long. Not after everything since that day in the rain.

Not now.

[aniskywolf]

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[bg=5b2935][atrb=style,padding: 20px;border-top: 3px solid #FFFFFF;] “Y'r not...” With a blinking gesture he moved closer to him, expression of concern on his face. "Yeah... yeah I am... England..." It was hard to see him in such a state. One who was so proud and on top of the world now reduced to a state in which they seemed like nothing more than a bottom feeder trying to get through the passing hours alive and alright. Living to survive instead of living to live. He reached over to the other to put a gloved hand on his, frowning as he looked into the other's empty eyes that used to have some sort of sharpness to them. A sharpness that was evidently gone by the looks of it. To see someone he looked up to in such a state was more than heart-rendering, and he wished that he didn't have to see him like this, but out of the goodness of his heart he had to, for both their sakes. “Y've no resp'nsibil'ty tuh...” "I might not but I owe you at least this..." He sighed. "England, its' not about whether I belong here or not. I needed to see you." No one ordered him to. He ordered himself. He let himself have this importunity to look the other in the eyes and tell him it was going to be alright despite the fact this was so horribly wrong. he wanted nothing more than to be by his side if only for a small while just to say he had been there to at least ease the pain. He'd try. It may not work, but he could damn well try. This was going to be a war that would spin far out of control very soon if nothing more was done, and Alfred was frankly getting sick and tired of just sitting around. yet he stayed, stayed wanting nothing to do with what wasn't his problem. he stayed by his people that didn't want this war, but he just happened to be in the neighborhood, and he'll be a good neighbor. to at least this one man who needed it the most. Looking out the window he let out a sad sigh. "You're gunna win this..." he said as he nodded slightly, confident. "You guys are gunna win this and it'll all be over." And he hoped those words helped.

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[England]

"Yeah... yeah I am... England..."

What a lie. Did he expect Arthur to fall for it? Ahaha, no. He was onto these games. "Lie---" Hand on his and he paused, bleary confusion on his face. Questions of why in his mind. He tried to pull away, really he did... but his body refused to move. Perhaps it new best. He frowned slightly, hand turning to brush the pads of his fingers against soft leather. He couldn't help but notice things though.... Alfred was so big now. So much better... haha. The lad had taken his place. How fitting. His golden boy had inherited his golden title.

"I might not but I owe you at least this...England, its' not about whether I belong here or not. I needed to see you."

He shook his head sharply, wincing at the action after. He didn't need to. No one needed to. He was just that lonely little backwater island that used to be so great. He'd ruled the world just to prove he was worth the time of day, and through it he'd gained something wonderful... only for it to throw bitter hate in his face. He was nothing more than a stupid mistake of a nation who'd once decked himself in power and fine clothes. Now he had neither of them. Now he was just mistake after mistake showing through with bitter finesse. There was nothing good about him, and nothing strong. He was simply the best damn liar to ever live. He wore his daily mask and everyone believed it. Perhaps they simply didn't care enough to look under it though. One of the two.

"You're gunna win this... You guys are gunna win this and it'll all be over."

He considered for a long while. Looking for something coherent to say, but in the end he simply shook his head. "'lready lost..." And he just sounded so very tired, the sudden weight of far too long a life weighing down on him all at once. It was too much for him to hold alone, and so.... here were the cracks. A mess of a man. "'s.... win 'n..." He frowned, perhaps bemused by the fact he could make no damn sense despite efforts. Shifting he pulled a tissue from his robe, holding it to his mouth and coughing harshly into it. White turning to a bloody crimson. Wincing from the taste (though it was one he was far too use to) he tucked it away again, turning to face Alfred with lips stained a harlot's rouge. "'ven if... still lose owt... 'll." Everything he had was gone, and with a bitter smile eyes hollowed more as he reminisced on times he shouldn't have. "Like you..." A heavy sigh and he let his his head thump softly against the window.

He wondered perhaps if this war would kill him. An old man pushed too far and loosing too much... maybe this was it.

[aniskywolf]

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[bg=5b2935][atrb=style,padding: 20px;border-top: 3px solid #FFFFFF;] "Lie---" Weak fingers against his own he looked at the other with a more than pained face. "The way I see it, the only liar here is the one who's denying the truth." He bit his lip slightly. "The truth that I am here for you, England. Just because I'm not in the war doesn't mean I can't do jack shit..." His tones was raised slightly but he quickly toned himself down. "When was the last time you remember seeing me? The Depression? The World's Fair? My Civil War?" He paused, "In all those instances, Time has passed, I've almost died for good and grown even more. That doesn't mean I move farther away." It was hard to explain his side of the story, especially with how he really felt and England in this state of mind. All those events had had some impact on the way they interacted, but in the end feelings hardly changed, and were almost never completely hostile. "'lready lost.. 's.... win 'n..." "Your country hasn't surrendered, and neither has Germany. There is still time, you know..." But who was he to talk, he was simply a bystander in the Roman colosseum watching a gladiator duel to the death. That's all this was, except with much more dirty methods and underhanded tricks like technology and what have you. He winced as England let out a nasty cough that stained red, even those lips which he had claimed a very long time ago.. "'ven if... still lose owt... 'll. Like you..." He simply looked at the other with narrowed eyes, but narrowed in a pained way to which his heart stung and clenched and what should not have bothered him. But it did, and simply he curled large fingers that were dressed in dark leather around pale, weak fingers that were once so big compared to his own. Times have changed, but that didn't mean everything had to change. There was still at least an iota of care he still had for once he called an older brother, and in the end that never went away. It was simply put in the back seat so he could gain his independence and be a free nation. But the price of freedom was a heavy toll, and it took those who wanted it enough to get it. He shifted himself closer to the other, trying to rest the side of his own face against his. "Do you remember back in Belgium, when we were alone, I whispered to you in your ear that what made you strong was not because you ruled the world, but because you had a stiff upper lip..." He closed his eyes, head still rested against the side of the other's should it have been allowed prior. "Where is it....? He remembered that Christmas clearly, and all that had happened then as if it happened just last year. Back when the English empire was still untouchable. Back when things seemed to wrong for America but seemed so favorable for an imperialistic world. Back when he eternally threw away the title of ever being a brother again by his questionable act. And in the years after and the years before, Arthur had always been the one to just trudge through it like no one's business, Hardened by thousands of years he kept n. And now such determination and will to live seemed to halt here. America was not to allow that.

[bg=5b2935][atrb=style,padding: 10px; font-family: courier new; color: #FFFFFF; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 5px;]TEMPLATE CODED BY RAIN FROM OTE

[England]

"The way I see it, the only liar here is the one who's denying the truth. The truth that I am here for you, England. Just because I'm not in the war doesn't mean I can't do jack shit... When was the last time you remember seeing me? The Depression? The World's Fair? My Civil War? In all those instances, Time has passed, I've almost died for good and grown even more. That doesn't mean I move farther away."

Were he totally with it and acting as a third person watcher he'd think this was a shit time to say such things. A time when he may not process the information, or would take being told he was wrong in more than a negative way. As it happened though at least it had been said in the end. Arthur though... he wasn't one to be dragged out of denial, and this was no different. He simply narrowed his eyes slightly and looked away. Alfred said he didn't move away, and the way he saw it Alfred did nothing but that. He laughed and ran. Never looked. Turned away. Always deliberately committed himself to different paths to keep himself away. Perhaps that wasn't how it really seemed, and in the end the whole thing was nothing more than a huge series of misunderstandings. But sometimes that was all it took to fuck someone's entire life up totally, to bring it down onto the rocks and shred it up into something that was far from good or normal.

"Your country hasn't surrendered, and neither has Germany. There is still time, you know..."

He shrugged again. "'s not wha' ' mean..." It didn't matter who won, Arthur had lost. His nation could recover. His people could recover. Some things though would remain nothing but a broken mess, and it was these things that meant the most to him to be true. Alfred said these things, but had no real understanding as to what it was he was making an assumption about with it all. He spoke with the intention to make Arthur feel better about everything, but... if he didn't know how or what then there was nothing he could do. Even if he managed to beat Germany into the ground (and by thunder he knew he would) that would still leave he and his empire a mess. His country would take so long to rebuild the damage done through it all, and it would cost so damn much. He was out of the running and to be frank it bothered him to some level, he didn't want to be a damn well nobody again. It was probably already happening though. No one cared. Alfred said he was here and he said he cared, but... that didn't mean anything when he was just going to leave again in a few hours.

Time was endless. Time would go on even when countries themselves faded into nothing but dust. Forgotten and never known by the people they'd protected. Of course there was still time, but by no means was it his to take.

The warm cheek pressed against his own made him stop negative thoughts though, halting them with a warm touch. It shouldn't have quelled him, and yet it did. Paused sharp words on his tongue and settled them into drenched embers. A wet flame that couldn't spark the usual roaring fire, though perhaps pain had more to do with it than anything.

"Do you remember back in Belgium, when we were alone, I whispered to you in your ear that what made you strong was not because you ruled the world, but because you had a stiff upper lip... Where is it....?"

He simply shrugged. He didn't know, and a part of him didn't care too much. Alfred had seen him at his worst before and... a part of him just couldn't muster the strength to give a shit if he saw it now. Had he known Alfred was coming then yes, he may have done something to seem more than he was now. As it stood though Alfred had already seen. It just didn't seem to matter as much when that was the case, which may have been why he simply made so little effort. It was likely just the fever that caused such, but even so it didn't seem quite so important as it should. No, what seemed more important was the fact his cheek was so damn cool whilst Arthur was so damn hot. Shifting slightly he moved his head so his face was instead against Alfred's cheek, moving after should Alfred allow it to tuck himself against his neck. It was almost like a childish desire for comfort. Should it have been allowed he'd sigh and close his eyes.

His silence could have been rude to words that were otherwise kind, but in reality he didn't see that. He was exhausted, and with it being noon already the sun would set and then everything would start again.