Yay~! A USUK Hetalia fanfic! w (I love this pairing!)
This was written as a commission for Jiejen237 on dA. She requested a story about Iggy almost dying, and America being a hero and saving him.
A/N: 'François' is the French version of the name 'Francis'. I have had a few PMs about this, so I just wanna let you know.
The sun, in its brilliant radiance, shone down on the earth, its scorching rays beating down on the many people who milled about aimlessly in the searing heat of summer. The azure water sparkled, the many stars of bright light turning into glinting diamonds floating on the sapphire sea. The water lapped gently at the pristine white shore, softly licking the land's edge.
"Hey, Arthur," a blond youth turned around, a huge grin etched upon his face. He sported a pair of cheery cobalt eyes – ones that seemed to invite people to befriend him.
Ones that invited people to fall in love with him.
"Arthur, aren't you going to join in?" he threw the multi-coloured beach ball at the reclining man. "There's still another couple of hours until the ship comes, you know!"
Ditching the ball back at the group, the thick-browed man turned his attention back to the book in his hands. "No thanks, I'm fine." He tried to focus his attention at the book, but soon found his eyes begin to wander. The pristine sand… the blue carpet that was the sea… lightly tanned skin… soft flaxen hair and bright sapphires…
"Hey, Arthur," the blond man jumped slightly at the silky voice, "when do you intend on confessing your true feelings to him?"
Behind him was none other than (the infuriating) François. The blond man was watching him with smirking blue eyes, an arrogant smirk etching itself onto his face. In his hands was a rose, its delicate petals fluttering in the light sea breeze.
"And why should I confess these feelings to him?" there was a hard edge to Arthur's voice. These feelings… Surely, they were unrequited. Why should he risk so much for something with so little promise? "Why should I tell him my true feelings?"
His face faced downward, tears threatening to spill from his dejectedly downcast emerald eyes. His chest ached with yearning, and the one who he desired was so close to him, but… but he was still too far away. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how far he tried to reach, he could never reach the other blond man.
"Because," François tucked the rose into the blond man's hair and stood up, "l'amour is something that is precious and should be shared."
With that said, he turned and left, his words hanging heavily in the air behind him.
Arthur pulled the rose out from behind his ear and spun it between his fingers, admiring the spiral of petals. "'Love is something that is precious and should be shared'… huh?"
"Hey, Arthur, we're going to leave you behind if you don't hurry up!" Alfred's loud voice drifted down to the blond man from the ship. It was a sleek and streamlined ship, made of fibreglass. Painted white with blue streaks on the bow, it truly was a work of modern art.
Grumbling as he boarded the ship, Arthur took a seat beside Yao and flipped open his book. He needed to distract himself… He needed to pull his attention away from the blond before him. Anywhere… Anywhere was fine, just as long as he wasn't looking at the youth.
"Hey, Arthur, are you feeling alright?" Suddenly, he found himself gazing into bright cerulean eyes. They were pulling him into their depths, deeper, deeper… "Your face is really red, are you feeling okay?" Alfred closed the space between them, ignoring the unintelligible grumbles and muttering that escaped the bushy-browed man's lips.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Arthur forced the words from his mouth, trying to ignore the younger man's closeness. He could feel his face burning up, but he pretended to not feel it. Alfred was too close, way too close. He closed his eyes, willing himself not to kiss those plush, pink lips.
"Maybe you should rest a bit," there was genuine worry in those cerulean cesspools, Arthur realised as he turned his head away with a mumbled 'I'm fine', "I think you've got a bit of a fever."
Nodding slightly, Arthur returned his attention to the book in his hands, watching in the corner of his eye as Alfred joined the party once again. Slowly, he noticed his world becoming darker and darker, until he was slumbering peacefully in oblivion's warm embrace.
"Arthur, hey, Arthur," he could hear a voice calling him. It was a familiar and warm voice that he recognised, but could not quite remember. Where was he? What was this darkness that surrounded him? "Arthur, wake up."
As if on cue, Arthur's jade orbs opened. For a moment, there was naught but silence as emerald eyes gazed into sapphire ones.
"Arthur," finally, Alfred's voice broke the silence. "You slept through the entire party, and it's kinda time to get off now…"
His voice trailed off, as if he didn't want to get off. As if he wanted to stay there, in that room, with Arthur. Sensing the silent request, Arthur got up and moved toward the door.
"Let's go," why was his heart throbbing so painfully? He couldn't let himself give in to such meaningless hope. He turned around, hiding his face – and the tears that threatened to fall – from Alfred. "Come on."
"Huh?" America glanced at the shorter man and stood up. "Yeah, let's go."
Arthur had decided something – he would let go of all these unrequited feelings and leave them in this room, where no one could ever touch them. He would leave his heart behind here.
Behind them, the door closed with a soft thud.
The familiar sea breeze blew across his face, playing with the strands of his hair and ruffling the golden strands of straw. Smiling at the comforting feel as he stepped out of the boat and onto the rocking platform, he carefully stepped down with practised ease. Frowning at the way the wood bent at his weight, he continued over the platform quickly.
"Ah!" There was a sudden cry, and an all-engulfing silence as Alfred watched Arthur disappear through a hole in the wood. Rushing toward the hole in the softened wood, he watched helplessly as Arthur's figure, which seemed small compared to the rolling ocean, disappeared into the roiling waves.
"Arthur!" his cry pierced the air.
He was struggling against the waves as they washed over him, threatening to crush him under their weight. His clothes were heavy – too heavy. His arms and legs flailed about uselessly in the cold saltwater. A rip, hidden by the turbulent water, pulled his head under. Gasping as his head broke the water's turbulent surface, he tried to swim – perpendicularly – out of the water, his arms and legs floundering uselessly in the liquid, but he soon found that his attempt was in vain, as he found himself being pulled into the ocean's great maw.
Blue. Endless and silent blue. It surrounded him, embracing him within its cold arms. He reached out an arm, reaching out for the light from above, reaching out for someone to come.
No, I need to pull himself together.
Willing himself to move, he tried to kick his leaden legs, but it was to no avail. Despite his hardest efforts, he could still feel himself falling deeper and deeper into the cold deep. He could still feel himself falling into eternal sleep.
"Alfred," the whisper came out in a mouthful of bubbles. He was drifting, drifting away and being carried by the current. His lungs burned, yearning for a breath of air, and his body felt heavy. He could feel himself becoming dizzy, but he didn't try to fight it.
Good-bye, Alfred. I love you…
As he disappeared into the dark depths of the ocean, a peaceful smile spread across his face.
"Arthur!" Alfred howled to the seas. Beneath him, the oceans rolled in turmoil, a maelstrom of water and froth. Shedding his heavy coat, the blond youth dove into the deep, cerulean eyes flicking from here to there, seeking the Englishman's familiar figure.
There! To the left! Reaching out desperately for the limp pale hand, he willed himself to get closer to the unconscious Arthur.
Come on, Alfred. You can do it! You're the hero, after all.
Nearer and nearer, his fingers reached for the Englishman's hand. Finally! He grabbed the cold hand, pulling the limp body closer to his. Kicking the water with the last of his strength, Alfred swam to the surface, closer and closer to the light.
"Hah!" he broke the surface, gasping as his burning lungs filled with air. Everything looked blurring through his stinging eyes, but it did not bother him. "Arthur!" he turned to the unconscious man in his arms. "Arthur, open your eyes"
There was no response – there was no half-asleep groan, no flickering of the eyelids. Nothing.
"Arthur, please, wake up. Open your eyes. Say something!" he was yelling now. His desperate cries filled the air as he dragged the deadweight through the frigid water.
Grunting as he dropped the unbreathing man onto the soft sand, he was soon ripping the heavy and tight clothes away from the Arthur's pale frame. He then pressed his lips against the Brit's cold ones as he pinched Arthur's nose shut; he exhaled, forcing all the air in his lungs into the short man's.
His lips were soft, Alfred noticed some time during the kiss of life.
"One, two, three, four," he was ignoring the beads of sweat that ran down his face as he pressed the heel of his palm against the middle of the unconscious blond's chest.
Please, please, please, Arthur. Please wake up. Please open your eyes and say something!
There was nothing but the two of them now. That was all that Alfred could see. It was as if everyone else did not exist in his mind as he tried to revive the blond man over and over again.
"Come on, Arthur! Are you just gonna give up, just like this?" he was yelling at the blond man now. Why? Why wasn't he waking up? Was it really going to end like this? He could feel the tears prickling in the corners of his eyes, as he yelled angrily at the unmoving man. "Arthur, but… but I still haven't told you that… that I love you…"
With those words said, he captured the unmoving man's lips within his own, in a final, passionate kiss.
"Mm," the cold body pinned beneath him began to shiver. Pulling away, Alfred watched in amazement and relief as those beautiful virescent eyes opened. The frigid hand that he had unknowingly been squeezing tightened around his hand reassuringly.
"Arthur!" the taller of the two wrapped his arms around the sopping wet man as he released a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. "Arthur, thank god you're okay!"
"Alfred?" virescent eyes turned to the crowd that surrounded them. "What happened?"
François stepped forward. "You nearly drowned, Arthur," there was no joking tone to his voice, the blond man noted. "And I think your reply is due."
"What reply?" Arthur tilted his head in query.
"It's your turn to say je t'aime," the Frenchman said.
A furious blush spread across the blond man's face. "B-but! There's no way he said it…"
"I love you, Arthur," the American youth said on cue. Smiling as he cradled the Brit's face in his palm, he repeated himself. "I love you. I said it then, and I'll say it now. I'll say it as many times as you want."
"I… I love you too, Alfred…" his eyes were glaring at the ground as his face turned a dark shade of red. Slowly and hesitantly, he turned and glanced up at the taller man's honest sapphire eyes. Leaning up, he pressed their lips together. "I love you too, Alfred."
All around them, the crowd cheered for their newfound love. Pulling away from one another, Arthur gazed into the seemingly endless cesspools of azure.
Thank you, for saving me. Thank you, for loving me.
Their lips met again.
I wanted a sweet ending, to make up for nearly killing Iggy.
England: That doesn't change the fact you almost killed me!