Hello and good to see you, reader! Apple Fairy here!

This is a fic I wrote when I wanted to explore the feeling of unrequited love and longing with asakiku. I fear I might've made Kiku a bit OOC, and the feeling a bit melodramatic, and if that's the case, I apologize beforehand.

But if you can enjoy this fic just a little, then that's good! Thanks for reading! Hope you like the fic!

EXTRA: This fic has been translated into Russian as well! Please see my profile for more info.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Hetalia

Lovesick

Story by Apple Fairy

I've lost count of how many times I've dreamt of him.

It's not the same dream either, but he's always in them, and the theme is the same. Sometimes, we're in my garden, feeding the koi. Other times, we're walking down the streets of London, holding hands. Or perhaps I'm cooking dinner for him, as he holds me from behind. As I say something, and he laughs softly in my ear. The setting always changes, the situation, but there's always that one constant factor.

We're together. Always, we're together. And that's what I like most of all in these dreams, for I want that so much. I crave it so greedily, and I finally get to have what I've longed for so long. He holds my hand, he kisses me softly, I am lost in his embrace, and it's everything I want and even more.

Until I wake up. The bed is cold then, the warmth I imagined is gone and suddenly I feel empty. I am like a teacup, filled to the brim with warm tea, until you empty me out. Something is missing, and I feel uncomfortable and unhappy.

It took me a month to realize I had grown sick. I realized the meaning of lovesickness then, and I realized I was stricken with it. A serious case of lovesickness and for a moment I worried if I would ever recover from it.

The dreams would keep away the sickness. Would heal the symptoms, but when I woke up, when the medicine wore off, I was still as I was before. Madly in love, terribly so, to the point of stupidity.

It was quite a terrible predicament.

It is not forbidden for nations to fall in love. It's not encouraged, but it's not looked down on either. It's just something left to one's taste, an option, something neutral and to kill time with. However, there have been warnings, yes even I've seen them. China told me the stories of what happens when a nation falls in love.

France set an example of what happens when one falls in love with a human. Jean suffered, and so did he.

Italy set an example of what happens when one falls in love with a nation. Holy Roman Empire fell.

China constantly told me 'Don't follow those Westerner's examples.' He cautioned me to keep to myself, to keep my heart protected. Alongside lullabies and stories, he told me stories of caution, and I grew up on that.

Love never crossed my mind until now.

My heart was protected, my feelings in check until someone broke through my guard. He approached me with roses, and sweet words. Before I knew it, I was running to go see him, then, under a starry sky.

It's rare that I go against my boss's wishes. It was odd, even to me, as to why I disobeyed him. But somehow my legs had decided on their own, and although I had no logical reasoning for it, I was extremely happy to hear Arthur wanted the same.

It's now that I realize it was love.

How terrible. A large change has happened in my heart, and I have been stricken ill with love, but he goes on unaware. Treating me the same as always; making sure I'm okay, enjoying my company. For we are allies and that's how allies act to each other.

I fear to him I am only that, while I wish for so much more.

I want him. Just as he is in my dreams, I want him just like that. Touching me gently and treating me as if I'm his lover.

But I know that is only a dream. A mere fantasy of mine, something I wish for but will never come true. I am assured he likes my company there is no doubt in that. But whether it's to the extent that I feel for him, I do not know. But I'm most certain it's only me who feels like this.

Ah. How sad. If only I could sleep for eternity, and make those dreams my reality.

How sad.

"This is just terrible."

He sighed next to me, grumbling as he did. Arthur was that type of person, uttering more sarcasm than praise. But that was in his nature, and I didn't mind it anyway. Together he and I stood under an awning. The streets were bare, but the rain pitter-pattered on. On our way back from the port, in which I had just arrived, it suddenly began to rain. Quickly and hard, and we found ourselves shelter in front of a closed shop. It was chilly, and I felt myself shiver. Ah, the rain was never ending here, and I had yet to get used to it. I had no umbrella on my person, despite Arthur having suggested I bring one.

Perhaps my old age is catching up to me. I've become so forgetful these days.

"Are you alright?"

Hearing his voice, I turned my head, and found concerned eyes looking at me. I felt my heart lift a bit. I knew it was ridiculous to be happy from this alone, but I was happy nonetheless to see him care for me, to notice me, to worry about me. It was selfish and childish, but I loved that attention despite all that. Perhaps this is another form of foolishness that comes with being in love.

"Yes; I'm fine." I nodded, and looked back to the cold grey rain, "I'm just sorry that I did not bring an umbrella with me. It's rather unfortunate."

Arthur coughed awkwardly next to me then. Was he getting cold as well? He coughed again, and it was then I noticed he was trying to get my attention. And turning to see him again, his eyes did not meet me this time. Rather he was looking away from me, face slightly flushed, and embarrassed. Once again I could feel my heart jump, and he spoke curtly to me. Still as candid as ever.

"A-Actually," he sputtered out, "it just so happens I brought mine with me. If you don't mind sharing it, I mean."

I resisted the urge to smile then. I was completely lost, honestly, if that alone would make me happy.

"I don't mind at all."

The umbrella opened with a loud sound, and he lifted it above our heads. For a moment, I wished he would hold my hand, but shooed such thoughts away. It would be too soon, wanting too much, and I was quite content with this moment anyway.

We began walking, that black umbrella connecting us, our heads ducked, and I stole subtle glances at him.

I was reminded of the love umbrella writing at my home. Placing two person's names under an umbrella, to show that they were a couple. I was daydreaming silly, nonsensical things, but I loved him and that was my excuse.

I was in love with my ally. And I dearly hoped he was the same. Perhaps too shy to admit it, maybe one day the moment would come. When I could confess it all.

And although it's much too idealistic, I hoped he would return my feelings.

I cast another glance to him. He caught my gaze, and immediately he turned away. I could see his ears were red.

It was then that I smiled.

The year was 1911. The second renewal of our alliance. It hadn't been too long a time; although to humans it seemed like such a long time, to us nations it was like a week. But, to myself, I cherished and loved that time nonetheless and hoped it would go on endlessly. I wanted to stay by his side, I wanted to see his smiling face, I wanted to be with him. And so this revival made me giddy and happy. There was a party held, with many of our own important people attending. Lots of talking and wine and the surprising thing was, was that I was unable to see him during the party. Although many people asked if I had enjoyed his company, we were never seen together that entire time.

It was near the ending that I went looking for him. When the festivities were dying down. My boss was going home early, and I told him I could get to the hotel on my own, don't worry. And assured I would be fine, he left, and I went on search for my ally.

The hallways were dark and ornate. The earlier noises of the party fell away, and suddenly all I could hear were my footsteps on the floor. I sighed, the military uniform I was wearing felt tight and uncomfortable. The various medals shined in the moonlight. Where are you, Arthur? I wondered to myself.

Where are you?

I checked in each room, but found nothing. Only desolate furniture, and unlit rooms. It was a quiet moment then, something lonely and silent. It felt as if I was the only man left on the earth, or perhaps I was lost in a dream.

What strange thoughts. Perhaps I had too much to drink.

Finally, down the hall, I saw a door slightly ajar. A warm, weak light seeped from it. My heart began to pound then, at just the thought of seeing him. I hurried over, and opening the door slowly, I was first greeted with the sound of a crackling fire.

It was a small drawing room, with a couch and chair facing in front of a lit fireplace. Book shelves lined the walls, and a mirror sat above the fireplace. A cozy scene, something tucked away from the rest of the cold mansion. It was like an oasis in a desert, I thought to myself. But I did away with such thoughts when I saw who was lying down on that couch, an arm covering his eyes, his jacket thrown across the chair.

My heart jumped in my chest again. Oh, I thought to myself, there you are.

I approached him noiselessly, and on closer inspection I could see his cheeks were flushed. Oh. Drunk?

"Kiku, is that you?" He muttered groggily. I was surprised to see he was awake, and Arthur took his arm down from his eyes. His green eyes glittered in the light of the fire, but he seemed tired, and worn out. Seeing me, he gave me a half-ways smile, something cocky. I cleared my throat, hoping the blush did not show in my cheeks.

"I was wondering where you went off to." I told him, kneeling beside him so we were on the same eye level, "Some people were saying you excused yourself and I came to find you."

"Is it still going on?"

"I'm sorry?"

"The party."

"No. It has already ended. Everyone's gone home."

He nodded at this for a while, as if to assure himself. I could smell the alcohol on his breath from where I was, and it was then I was certain he was drunk. It's not as if I hadn't seen him in this state before; I was surprised though. Usually he would be a violent drunk, starting fights. Other times, he would be a weepy drunk, crying about how things weren't fair to him.

But now, he was slow and reserved. Did something happen, I wondered. Rather, I wondered again why he left the party in the first place. So, I asked him.

"Hm? Why I left?"

"Yes."

He paused for a moment and shrugged. "Got a headache. Thought I'd lie down for a bit. Guess my nap went on longer than it should have. Sorry by the way."

"For what?"

"I don't mean any disrespect." He sighed loudly again, and it almost seemed like it was taking his all just to talk; he seemed so tired. "I should've been here for the whole thing."

"It's fine, please don't fret about it."

I wanted to carry him to bed then. Tuck him under the covers, and make sure he got some rest. He seemed so tired and sleepy, and I worried for him. I wondered what he was dreaming about before I got here. Something feverish and strange maybe. Or something scary and too much.

Or maybe he was dreaming about me.

…Oh, what a hopeful wish.

"Kiku."

"Hm?"

"I…I need to tell you something."

He propped himself on his elbows then, trying to get up, but struggling to do so. Instinctively I reached out to help his tipsy self, but he put a hand up in protest. His face was serious then, strangely so, and he shook his head.

"Hear me out. Please?"

I nodded, confused at his actions. Was he really this inebriated?

"I…Kiku, when you approached me that night," he gulped then, his eyes focusing not on me, but somewhere behind me. "I was really happy, you know. Very, very happy."

I tried not to blush too hard, but I'm sure he wouldn't notice anyway, for he wasn't looking at me at all.

"And I…I just want to tell you something okay? Are you listening?"

"I am."

Then he stared straight at me, those green eyes I loved so dearly, clouded and unfocused. His words were steady however, strong and sweet.

"I'm glad I met you. And I enjoy your company. Kiku, you're…you're a wonderful ally and thanks so much for everything."

It was as if he had taken my heart and squeezed it, had taken me in general and held me tightly until I could feel him in my soul.

I couldn't hold back my blush then. I couldn't stop my pounding heart. Somehow my condition had reached critical with those words alone. It was surprising how much control he had over me, just by being kind to me alone.

Ah, Arthur I am sick. Don't you see?

He was still staring at me hard, as if he could see right through me. Somewhere, in the perverse area of my mind I wanted him to hold onto me, to kiss me, to do whatever he pleased with me. I shook off these thoughts though, such scandalous thoughts, and I realized he was waiting for my response.

The crackling of the fire made a subtle noise behind us, the only light source in that dim room. As I watched the light dance on his determined face, I spoke shyly, voice wavering with love.

"I…I'm very happy to hear that. I feel the same way, Arthur-san. Thank you…thank you for everything you've done for me, I'm in your debt."

That wasn't even half of the extent of my feelings for him. Oh, words always seem to hold us back, seem to never be exactly what we want to convey. I dearly hoped he would get my message, understand what I was really saying, but he only smiled then. A sloppy smile that was unbalanced and he nodded as if in approval.

"Good. That's good."

He flopped himself back onto the couch, and sighed loudly, as if he was done with a particularly difficult task. I sat there awkwardly, unsure what to do, and feeling strangely unsatisfied.

But I hushed that part of me. I should be grateful for this moment at least, and I was, I really was. But I suppose a part of me was being selfish as well, but then again wasn't that how it was in love?

"Arthur-san?"

"Mmm?"

He mumbled, as if being stirred from sleep. I gulped, and handled this moment carefully not wanting to ruin what I had before. For a moment, I wanted to blurt it out then. Tell him how strongly I felt, explain each and every restless night I had, try to make him understand, and maybe learn he felt the same way. But the moment felt wrong, fell short, and instead I got up, holding a hand out to him.

"We should go. I'll help you get back home."

I felt like I had a chance though. Like a glimmer of hope, and I held onto that. The time to tell him wasn't now. It might not be tomorrow. Maybe weeks from now, maybe months or years. I didn't worry about it though, because I felt like I would know when the time to tell him was. Something would click, and just fit and I could tell him and it would be perfect and Just the Right Time.

I looked forward to that day, the day I would be cured, the day I would be loved.

Slowly, but surely our days as an alliance were coming to an end. It was something I couldn't second guess, it was final and undoubtedly going to happen. At this point I was just counting down the days until we would part.

Of course my heart was breaking. Why wouldn't it be?

"So you understand, right?" He was saying across from me, the meeting table separating us. It was us alone, and his words weren't clear to me, it was like I was underwater. Sounds were muffled, and colors were dull. I suddenly wished I was back home, all alone, just so I could sort through these desolate thoughts by myself. But I was a nation before I was myself, and here I was. With the man I loved explaining to me why we had to part.

"It's beneficial for all of us. The best bet would be to just end the alliance now. Don't you agree?"

My love, what are you saying? I don't understand. How did it come to this?

"…I assume you find no more benefit from this alliance?"

My voice sounded strange to me, eerily in control. Like I had resigned to this fate and was dealing with it by detaching myself from the situation. A part of me wished I was dreaming again. To be honest, these days I was getting more nightmares then dreams, nightmares of him ridiculing me or leaving me.

I was so smitten it was disgusting at this point. Where was my pride? Perhaps this is another symptom of lovesickness.

Looking at him, I saw he looked slightly uncomfortable. He leaned forward then, interlacing his hands, resting his chin there, elbows on the table. He closed his eyes and began to talk; halfway through his speech I could tell that there was no place for 'friendship' here or anything that got in the way of 'business'.

"No. My bosses have agreed that to keep up this alliance would be a hindrance. However with the Four Powers treaty all of us would benefit. Do you see? The pros outweigh the cons."

"…You no longer have us in our interest."

"I didn't say that-"

"You don't need to. I understand completely what you're saying."

The words were spilling out then, harsh words that were childish and wanted to hurt him. It was like I was watching myself doing this, this whole scenario unreal and cruel.

I must be dreaming. Yes. Yes this is a dream, and right now I'm angry and not really saying this to him at all.

"Kiku?"

"It's Japan, thank you."

He looked at me surprised, somewhat wounded and it made me all the more angry. How dare he look like that when I was hurting? He had no right, no right at all. I was thinking such unpleasant and petty thoughts, but I was dreaming anyway so I didn't care. I stood up, the chair scraping behind me.

"I understand that you no longer have our interests in mind. Fine then. I see where our relationship stands."

"Japan, sit back down."

He was looking at me worried, but also sternly. Like I was a child throwing a tantrum and he didn't want to make a scene. And maybe I was just throwing a tantrum, but I was convinced so much that this was a dream, that none of this was happening; I just didn't care anymore.

I just didn't care.

"I think we're done here."

Turning to leave I could hear him calling my name. My nation name, not my human name and it hurt me. Call me Kiku. Show that you still want me. I know you don't want Japan anymore, but I don't want England to want Japan.

I want Arthur to want Kiku.

The door slammed shut behind me, and I was surprised to see how much force I had put into that motion. My hands were shaking and suddenly my eyes were stinging. My chest felt tight, and it took me a while to realize I was on the verge of tears. Fearing he would come after me then, and see me in this state, I ran. I ran out of the meeting building, and I had an urge to keep going then. To keep running, to just lose myself in that action, until I couldn't think anymore. All I was then, was Kiku, someone who was in love, who's heart was breaking. Running out into the streets, I saw it was raining but I didn't notice this either. I felt cold, so cold, and lonely and closing my eyes shut, I focused on this alone. The sound of pitter patter, the coldness of the rain on me. I began walking, back to my hotel, holding myself. I must've made such a sad image, such a sad and pathetic image. It's funny, how love can make one shine one moment, then something pitiful the next.

I looked back for a moment. I believe what hurt me the most was seeing he hadn't chased after me, not at all.

Our alliance ended in the cold of December of 1921.

The Four Powers Treaty was signed, my alliance now with France and America as well. Of course I acted distant towards England then, our relationship bristly. This was exactly how my bosses felt as well, and they advised me to treat my relationship with him cautiously. As Japan I did as I was told, no qualms or questions asked.

But as Kiku, I was hurting.

Not once had he called me by my human name, not since that day I had ran out of the meeting hall. Not once had we spoken on a personal level since then. It's all been strictly business, scripted lines given to us by our bosses, stern words and topics without emotion. As Kiku, I wanted to reach out to him, ask him where we went wrong, how we could fix it, tell him I still loved him.

The dreams never stopped. Still I dreamt of him treating me as his lover, but they've changed in a way. Now, whenever he does, the end is always the same. His behavior changes, he treats me coldly, and leaves. My nightmares have begun overtaking my dreams and now my sickness is worse. I have nothing to quell the symptoms, only something to add extra pain to the illness. I wondered if I would be stuck like this forever, lovesick and aching but never cured.

What a sad fate.

But I still had hope. There was one last chance I had to see if he still felt something for me. It didn't even have to be anything romantic, maybe just friendship. I already missed those days together, our alliance, quiet laughter, enjoying each other's company. I still placed faith that he still felt that way, and I had one last chance to see if that was true.

Today it was raining (ah, whenever I thought of him it was always raining; perhaps because the weather reminded me so much of him). He told me he was coming over to pick up some last things, small trinkets he left behind, and after that our contact would be over.

Already I had packed his things in a small ornate box. It wasn't much; a pocketwatch, some books he had lent me to borrow, various other objects. Now I just waited for his arrival, nervous, ready to gauge his feelings. The thought of confessing my feelings never crossed my mind then, and thinking back on it now that was probably for the better. For if I had just blurted them out then, our situation would've been much more terrible.

I watched from the window, the falling rain. Next to my feet, Pochi-kun looked up at me sadly. I should feed him, I thought. But I was keeping a look out for the one I was expecting. I told myself this wasn't a desperate act, anyone expecting a guest would act this way. But then I remembered I was lovesick and all my excuses seemed so petty then.

For a moment I remember rushing to go see him that starry night. He was so happy to see me, and that happiness made me happy as well. His smiles made me smile, his sadness made me sad. I should've been content watching from afar, but I wonder if that quiet devotion is what led to this.

Oh, my love, what happened to us?

It was then, through the fog and grey weather I saw a figure approaching. My heart began beating, racing, I almost feared it would jump out of my chest. Quickly I rushed to the door, checking in the mirror in the entranceway at how I looked. My face looked tired, slightly flushed, and I knew I was being foolish and hoping for too much. But it was my last chance and I allowed myself this much.

When the knock on the door came, I was reminded of the first time he had done that. Holding a bouquet of flowers, nervous and candid. But that was then, and this is now, and I opened the door. This time I was not greeted with flowers, but only a stern face, as he folded his umbrella.

"Good day, Japan."

I nodded, knowing I should say more, but I just didn't know what to say. I had words, so many words to say to him, but I couldn't figure out a way to string them together so that he could understand everything. I think it's because there was so much, was because I couldn't say anything. I didn't know where to start, to make him comprehend, so instead I used simple words with no emotion in them.

"Shall I take your coat?"

"It's alright; I won't be long."

But I want you to stay long.

I wanted to slap myself for thinking such thoughts. I wanted him to stay long. I wanted him to confess he missed me. I wanted us to admit our feelings, and like some contrived ending of a trite love story, kiss and forget all our troubles. To make desperate, tear-stained love and hold onto each other afterwards, whispering sweet nothings like nothing else in the world mattered. But I knew that was only a dream, a futile dream and I only nodded once more.

"Yes, of course. Let me get your things then."

He waited at the entrance, as I left. Already my heart was aching just seeing him, I was completely at a loss of what to do. I hesitated to get the box; maybe I could tell him I'd misplaced it, invite him in, serve him tea. We could talk of this and that, and…no. I should stop. I should honestly just stop at this point.

This was the end, and I should come to terms with that.

Slowly, surely, sadly I was. Picking up the box gingerly, I began to think about lovesickness and what it meant.

I've been suffering from it for years now. When one is lovesick, there are various symptoms: your mind will become full of that person, your heart will race, every thought and feeling will be concerned with them. It borders on obsession really. Mood swings, sweaty palms, a flushed face. These are the symptoms. One can suffer lovesickness for a long period of time. There is a cure however. If your feelings are returned, if the object of your affection falls for you, then you will suffer no longer. Instead of pain and worry, sadness and desperation there is happiness and comfort. You will be cured, your obsession toned down, and all is well.

…But what happens if you never get your cure? What if the suffering persists?

I feared this the most, for I didn't know what would happen. Perhaps my symptoms would die down with time. Maybe nothing would really happen at all. But it was the unknown that scared me, the possibility of anything happening.

But I could prevent that. This was my last chance, and although it was slim, I had to try. I was still hopeful, and now was the time.

"I'm back."

Arthur looked at me dully, turning his head from the mirror in my entrance hall. He looked tired, just as tired as me. Solemn and frowning. Perhaps the rain was affecting both of us. The box felt light in my hands, only adding a bit of weight, the wood warm. I held it out for him tentatively, and he bowed his head a bit in thanks, taking it. Our fingers did not brush, didn't touch at all.

"Thank you. I'll be leaving then."

"Ah, wait!"

He turned to look at me, confused. I had spoken without thinking, but this time all my actions were being done without worry for the consequences. This was my last chance, our last chance, so I tried my best. This moment felt so delicate, so fragile, so very final.

"W-Would you like to come in for tea, at least?" I offered. I could still hear the sound of the muffled rain around us, the sky falling down harshly. He pursed his lips, his dark coat making the scene all the more grey. He shook his head.

"I wouldn't want to trouble you."

"It would be no trouble at all."

"I'm sorry, but I'll have to refuse."

I could feel a pang in my heart then. My mind was searching for any more reasons to keep him here, any other excuses. But already he was opening the door, the sound of the rain magnified, loud and rude. My head was pounding then, the sound of the rain hurting my ears, all the emotions I've kept bottled up swirling around, this entire situation making me dizzy. He nodded again, and said goodbye but I could barely hear him. Opening his umbrella I could see him leaving, leaving me, and suddenly this hopeful moment was ending and I didn't know what to do.

Wait.

Come back.

Don't leave.

I…

…I still love you.

It's then that I knew what to do. This was it, this was my chance. This whole time I've been in love, and been wondering when I could tell him my feelings. This whole time I was waiting for that right time, the one moment when it would be perfect and everything would be fine. Everything had been cumulating to this moment, building up, and the spotlight was on me. It was my turn to make a move, and so, with the rain falling so fiercely, with my heart pounding so fast, I ran. I ran after him, the sullen figure under the umbrella all alone.

"Wait!"

He stopped and I stopped as well. We stood there, facing each other, and I tried to catch my breath. So many thoughts and words were swirling in my head, like a typhoon and he looked at me surprised, confused, and I gulped, regaining my composure. The rain was soaking me, and I felt cold, so very cold, but I didn't care. This was it. My last chance, and I mustered up the words, the courage.

"…Please stay."

My words hung above us, and I could hear the raw sadness in my tone. I've forgotten shame at this point. Of appearing proper. At this point I was just emotions, lots of feelings and love.

"I don't want you to go. I don't want this to end. England-san…no, Arthur-san…"

I sniffled, felt my eyes stinging, and there, with the rain hitting us, I said it. Finally, for once.

"I love you. I'm in love with you, Arthur-san."

Then, silence.

It felt like a weight had been taken off my shoulders, and the world was holding its breath. The time after those words were spoken felt like it had gone on forever. I dared myself to look up at him, to see his reaction, as I held back tears. Would he be smiling? Would he tell me he too loved me, he felt the same? Would he look shy, perhaps, embarrassed? But what I saw instead, broke my heart so much.

He looked disgusted.

Or more so, disturbed. Like I had told him something strange, and his face settled into an expression of distaste and uneasiness.

"You…you love me."

"Yes."

My love, don't look at me like that. Please, stop. This isn't going how I thought it would at all. But perhaps infatuation makes us blind and makes our expectations high, and this whole time I've been wanting too much. He's not obligated to love me, just because I love him. This was just how life was, sometimes, and that hurt.

I was hurting so much.

"J-Japan…Kiku…"

He frowned, looking downward, composing his words. I could feel the cold biting into my bones then, but I waited patiently for his verdict, for what he would say. I could see the end at the horizon then, and slowly the space between me and it closed. This was it. My infatuation and love, all these feelings, this was it. He looked up at me, and no longer did he look unhappy. But his eyes were clear with pity.

"I don't regret our alliance. Our friendship…that really did make me happy. But…"

He shook his head, frowning.

"…I never felt that way for you. I'm sorry."

It was like he had crushed my heart then and there.

I felt numb to the rain, to his words, and when he saw I wouldn't respond, he shifted himself, uncomfortable and awkward with the situation. He walked towards me, though, and taking my hand, he placed his umbrella in it. He backed away from me, and with a low voice said: "I'm sorry, Kiku. It's over."

And then he turned and walked away, into the rain, ducking his head down. He was gone, before I knew it.

The rain pitter pattered on the black umbrella he had given me (which I noticed later was the same umbrella we had taken cover under those many years ago) and it's then that I realized what comes after lovesickness.

When one cannot get a cure, the symptoms will persist. And finally at the end, the fatal end, your heart will break. It will just break and hurt, and the pain will die down with time, but it will indeed break.

And I could feel it then. My heart breaking. Finally, I cried, and collapsing onto the ground, his umbrella protecting me, my lovesickness finally came to an end.

Then I felt nothing at all.

That's the end! Thank you for reading!

Ah, sorry if this fic tends to get melodramatic at times. I really wanted to capture the feeling of someone in love, in an impossible love, so if that feeling came across even a little that would make me happy. I hope you enjoyed this fic to some extent, cause that would be really great, yes!

I plan to continue this fic, with the same premise, with England in love with Kiku, and how it would be like if he was stricken with lovesickness. So keep an eye out for that!

Once again, thanks so much for reading!

-Apple Fairy