Hetalia sadly isn't mine

Alfred stormed out of the house, his angry stomping followed by a yell of anger from inside. The American slammed the ornate wood door behind him in response, swearing loudly. Way to go, Arthur. Way to go.

Arthur had arrived that morning, come to spend time with him before the meeting in New York, a week to themselves, and already within four hours, they had gotten into a big argument...over shoes and where they go in the house, or something, Alfred wasn't even sure what it was about anymore, but his rage prevented him from seeing it was about absolutely nothing, and his pride kept him from returning to his house.

His feet slapped the stairs of his porch, and he stalked angrily down the country road that led to his Virginia home, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his bomber jacket, well worn with the years.

"Damn it, Arthur…" He walked for several miles before coming upon the little playground that still stood near the one room schoolhouse that a group of Amish people used down the road. Seeing an old wooden bench, he went over and sat down, fuming still.

"Your always doing this, 'don't forget that', 'what have I told you', 'why can't you remember anything I've taught you'?" Alfred sneered angrily at his cheesy impression of Arthur. "God, Arthur, you know it always comes down to me remembering everything, doesn't it, what, with how we do things, where we eat, how I freaking drive! Well, I wish I couldn't remember you, or the rest of those stupid countries! All of you stuck up…How wonderful it would be, to start over, not having to worry about how I act, who I meet with, what work I have to get done before I can go off for the day to do anything…Just to live a normal human life!" His determined face lit up, but he started at the cough that he heard next to him.

Sitting there, on the bench next to him, was a woman in a flowing white dress which fluttered around her slim frame, her long brown hair whipping behind her in the breeze, her pale, beautiful face shinning in the sunlight of the summer's day. Her green eyes flashed with something unreadable as she stared out into the surrounding country of green. How had she gotten there? What had she heard?

"Love truly is a battlefield at times." Her voice was eerie and enchanting, and Alfred found he suddenly couldn't move. She was beautiful, yes, but not enough to prevent his arm from coming adjust his glasses like he was having issues with now…

"I don't think I ever mentioned…" She, and the mysterious force that now forced him to sit up fully erect, cut him off.

"Alfred," His mouth flew open, another indignant question on his lips when he suddenly couldn't speak. "You speak openly about wishing away your love for Arthur and getting rid of those you love and care for. Can your love be really true? Why do you deserve something some of us can never have?" She hadn't turned to him the entire time, simply staring down the dirt road that went on for miles in rural Virginia countryside, a tear rolling down her cheek, her green eyes shimmering. "Well, I guess we'll have to find out, now won't we…I'll grant your wish…"

Alfred still was stock straight on the bench, realizing that some unseen force this woman possessed was doing this to him. He tried to squeak out in protest, but her unreadable face simply curled into a bittersweet smile.

"I used to know a love like yours, but he was taken away in a horrible war. He fought for his freedom, for his dream, for the cause, but it was all taken from him, and then, two years later, from the rest of us around here. To think I would die in childbirth to another man, one I didn't love and had married only to get over the grief…along with my child that was not made out of love. How fitting, to die in the betrayal of my heart's dearest."

"Wars take away love. That is why love is a battlefield. Hopefully, in the end, you will realize why I am doing this, so you will never toss love aside, and will hold each day dear that you share, as I do now, although I am dead. I only make this wish come true, but do not give up hope, you are never on your own." With that, she smiled, and vanished, and Alfred, getting the feeling back in his body, blacked out.


He awoke around the time the sun was starting to set in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Arthur would be worried when he wasn't back on time…

Arthur! He still remembered! So the ghost lady was…a dream? She must have been a figment of his over stimulated imagination. But he usually dreamed about Super Heroes and damsels, not sad stories about women who died in childbirth…. the cause, freedom, she'd said…she must have been talking about the Civil War…that is, he'd dreamed that. Yep. Dreamed. I mean, he still remembered everything, Arthur, Mattie, all those guys.

He got up, and stretched. His limbs ached from sleeping on that bench. He started for his house, not remembering why he had come out here…no…he would recall it, and he was just a little foggy from sleep.

He'd remember eventually…he hoped.


Arthur was sitting in a rocking chair on his front porch, a worried look plain on his face. Alfred felt all his feelings from before disappear, and let the love of his Arthur simply overtake him.

When Arthur finally saw him in the diming light, he let out a relieved sigh, running down the steps and into Alfred's open arms, both holding tightly onto each other, never wanting to let go.

"I'm sorry, Luv. I snapped at you for no reason. Can't we just put this behind us? Forget about it?" Arthur looked anxiously into his lover's face, not wanting to feel the white hot fury of those blue eyes once more.

"Already have. What were we fighting about?" Alfred shrugged it off as a joke. Arthur was not to know of his strange dream. He'd start on his whole fairy spiel, about how they were all around Alfred. Or he'd just freak out about the whole "forgetting thing"…or be hurt by his wish…

No, he'd just keep it to himself…I mean, what was the worst that could happen? It's not like wishes like that ever came true…

Author's Note: WOOT! HERE WE GO AGAIN!

Story was inspired by "Think of Me" From Phantom of the Opera, which I am quite the fan of.

USUK, of course.


Fun Fact: On a military ship, the officer under the captain is called the "Executive Officer" (lol, in the car, this is what my dad calls me when he wants me to get out and throw something away or ride home with a bag of food on my lap). The "XO" as it was abbreviated on his helmet, took over the ship when the captain slept or died.

No idea how long this will be, but more than four chapters...

mistamie over and out!