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(Hetalia does not belong to me)

It was a summer day when we met – two boys, barely stepping into the world that would become our own. The sun was bright, its golden warmth trickling between the leaves of the coolibah that offered us sanction from the near unbearable heat outside. Just beyond the reaches of the shadows, the pure-white shore laid, the sparkling sapphire waters gently lapping at the sand as foam rode up the dunes. It was a perfect summer day when we met, and a perfect summer day when we parted…

Alfred was the happiest boy I knew. Even as a child, when the was teased for his accent, or when he was down with a cold, he'd still be smiling, grinning, filling the world with his sunny laugh. There was something about him – was it the joyous twinkle in his eyes, or the cheerful air about him? – that made everyone fall in love with him.

I was one of those people, who completely adored him. He was my best friend, my only friend, through primary school, and then through high school. Always by my side, he was my pillar of strength, the one whose shoulder was always there when I needed a cry.

His name was Alfred.

We were two ordinary six year olds when we met. He was the new guy who'd come from America. I was the kid who'd come the year before from England. His accent confused me – what was he trying to say? – and his outgoing attitude scared me, but even so, he kept talking to me, and kept trying to make friends with me.

It was only a week or so into the school term, but he'd already found so many friends. He was one of the 'populars', you see. One of those people who could be friends with whoever they wanted, but generally stayed with the populars, because they were cool, had money, or had an attitude. Despite that, he seemed oblivious to his social status, and talked to everyone.

I, on the other hand, was one of those quiet kids who sat in the back of class, and had no friends. I often read in the library during breaks, or sat by myself on the courtyard if the teachers kicked me out and drew random patterns on the sand with a stick as I watched the other boys play. I watched as Alfred broke away from the group, and walked over to one of the beautiful flowering bushes, and plucked a vibrant rose from it.

"Hey, Artie!" I looked up. The kid had a penchant for giving people nicknames, it seemed, but no one really minded – he was far too magnetic for people to get mad at. He was standing above me, his grin shining down on me like a second sun. His eyes sparkled with excitement as he presented the flower of his choice – a bright yellow rose – to me. "Artie, did you know today's Valentine's Day?"

Nodding hesitantly – and with a bit of exasperation too – I replied, "Yeah, my brother got a box of chocolates from a girl last year. Why?"

"Well, it's also a day for friends, you know. And yellow roses mean 'friends', so would you like to be my friend?"

From that day forth, I knew that I'd never be alone again, so long as the both of us stood beside each other.

Outside our school was a little area of bushland – not quite big enough to be called 'bush', but not so small that it served only as a hindrance to the ocean view. It was a place well known to the children of the area, as it served as a frequent meeting place for groups playing footy in the park. There, amongst the squat bushes and the prickly, spiky nameless plants, there was a lone tree, stuck amongst the tall jarrahs and the straggly grass. We dubbed it 'The Tree House'. It was a haven for those seeking sanction from reality, and served as a cubby house when we needed it. It leaned backward, its split trunk forming a kind of pathway that reached for the sky.

It was my place, my place from school, from the other kids, from reality itself…

It was a rainy May afternoon when he found me, huddled on the uppermost branches of the Tree House. I'd forgotten my umbrella, and was soaking from the downpour – not that it mattered much anyway. The cold was good. It kept me from floating into my secret little world…

"Artie!" his voice was like a midsummer song – bright, happy, radiant… I looked up, to see his grinning face smiling down on me as he held his umbrella over me. "Hey, what're you doing on your own up here?"

I could trust him, I reasoned with myself. I could tell him everything, and he'd never hate me…

But I couldn't.

"Nothing. I'm just bored. What are you doing here?"

"Hey, I'm a hero, right? I came here to save you from the rain!"

Hey, Alfred, if you're a hero, then hurry up and save me. These feelings, they're crushing me…

Several years passed, we both stood by each other. Alfred continued to be friendly to everyone, despite the glares he received from the popular people as a result of it. The teachers all loved him, and wondered why he insisted on being friends with me – the person every teacher knew for how he was trouble…

Year seven came. It was a glorious year – finally, we were leaving primary school to head out to the cool-sounding high school. We'd meet new people, make new friends, and leave behind the foolishness of yesterday. It was also the year of spring, and left and right, people began to find their 'soul mates', people they'd date for a week (or a month, at most), and then dump for some hasty half-made reason.

The girls were all betting on who'd have the most valentines – would it be Alfred, or Francis? Who would receive their love? Would it be Lili, or someone else? Pink filled the room that day as one by one, people filed into the room, each person clutching a heart-shaped card, their hearts pounding as they put their cards onto someone's desk, their lips parting to whisper prayers that their valentine would return their feelings.

All eyes were on Alfred as he strode into class, a card by his side. Who would he give his card to? Whose feelings would he return? Would it be Elizabeta, or Mei? Discreetly, slipped my card onto Alfred's table as everyone watched him walk to the front of the class. I held my breath. Would he love someone more than me?

Of course he would. He's normal, unlike you!

"Well, actually, I don't like anyone, so I'll just give this to the teacher," he said as he flashed that charismatic smile of his. "I'm sorry to everyone who likes me. Thank you for liking me."

Later, he went home, and I watched as he set fire to the cards.

My feelings, which I'd had since the moment we met, went up in flames along with everyone else's. He'd mistaken my love for the childish 'crushing' that everyone else felt…

It was the summer of my 13th year. The sun was barely lingering over the horizon, and the air was thick with something that tasted faintly of excitement. We were all crowded around the building – a youth centre, a ballroom, a family help centre, a murder scene…

There was a group crossing the road spanning the building and the car park when it came. Screams and whoops filled the air, alongside the screech and the burning stench of rubber on bitumen. He turned, sky blue eyes filled with unbelieving and fear. Everyone else ran, but he was rooted to the spot.

"Alfred!" everything was going on so slowly. Perhaps if I made myself go after, I could save him…

There was an unbearable silence. Beyond the car, the broken body, and the screams that filled the air, a sign glared at me, its words gloating, taunting me…

THE SEVEN STAGES OF GRIEF

Shock and Denial

"Alfred!" I screamed until my throat was raw, and the screamed some more. Everything was so numb, so pathetic, so worthless. There was no way that he was dead. There was no way you'd let yourself die before becoming someone great, so why were we all screaming, all crying, all running after the ambulance when they took you away?

After all, there was so way you would die. You weren't allowed to die. Not until I told you I loved you.

Everything was so terribly, so frighteningly, numb…

Pain and Guilt

It hurt, it all hurt so much. Every day felt so worthless without you beside me. Everything was so pointless. It feels empty without you. Even sunny days seemed cheerless.

In the midst of all the pain, all the hurt, and the unbearable hole in my chest, I realised something…

I didn't save you, even though I could have.

Anger and Bargaining

"God damn it," I stood up; though I could still feel the tears fall down my face. "Alfred, why the hell did you have to die? Why couldn't you just stay alive, even for another day." I wanted to punch the gravestone to bits. I wanted to dig Alfred out of the ground with my bare hands. I wanted to see him again, even for another day.

"Alfred, please…" there was nothing left. The anger had left as suddenly as it had come, leaving nothing but the broken shell of a man who had loved with all his heart and allowed himself, with all the innocence of the child, to be destroyed because of that love. "Alfred, please, I promise I'll be a better friend. I promise I'll be a better person and become a better cook. Just… Please, please, please come back…"

My voice had become nothing but the broken whisper of a lost man.

'Depression', Reflection and Loneliness

Today, I realised something. Alfred, you were never just someone who I loved. You weren't just my friend, just another guy.

You were my whole life and still are. You weren't just important to me – you were everything. And that fact makes me want to cry even more…

I lost everything.

Alfred, do you remember the many times I told you I loved you, but you took it to be a friend-love sort of thing? Alfred, let me tell you now that I loved you then, that I still love you, and that I'll continue on loving you until the very end of my life. Let me tell you now that I've loved you since the day we met, and that all the times we spent together were so much to me…

Alfred, let me tell you another thing. It's so lonely without you around. It's like living on an earth without a sun. There's only the moon, but its light is so weak, and can be stolen so easily. Every night, I look out to the moon, hoping that perhaps, it's light will be enough, but then I realise that there's no one who could replace you.

And then I find myself crying again. Everything hurt so much without you. It's terrible without you – it's not that they're bullying me more; it's just that I have no one now. No one to talk to, no one to spend time with.

When I lost you, I lost everything…

The Upward Turn

Alfred, today, it started to hurt a little less whenever I thought of you. I don't cry so much when I think about you, your smile, the way you were always so kind to me. The sun's peeking through the cover of the clouds, I think, and it's starting to shine through. Things don't seem so hurried anymore, and I think that maybe the moon's light might be enough to light the way for me to walk all the way to you, wherever you might be.

Reconstruction and Working Through

Today, I met someone. His name's Francis. He's a bit of a git, and his hands tend to wonder (and he's French), but he seems like a nice enough guy. He likes Matthew – remember him? You know, the really quiet guy whose voice you could never hear?

Today, I decided to give up woodwork for home economics. It was fun while I did it, but I prefer embroidery. I'm sorry; Alfred, but I really don't like woodwork that much…

Acceptance and Hope

Today, I realised. You're gone. You're dead. There's no way you'll ever come back to life, and there's no way I'll ever get to tell you that I love – and that I still do love – you. But even so, I think that it's okay now.

Alfred, wherever you are, do you think that maybe, it's okay for me to move on?

There is a place, hidden behind the shade of a tall coolibah that faces the ocean. The sand is white and fine, almost soft, beneath bare feet. If you stand there, you can see the white surf of the water as it rises up the dunes, licking gently at the sand as if it were someone trying to get out of the water, before it returns to the endless blue.

That place is where I'll go today, the place where he lies, the love of my life. He was the happiest person I'd ever known. His grin was brighter than the sun and the moon put together and put through a microscope. His hair was like the strands of sunlight the blessed the land, spun together into a soft fine thread. His eyes were like the brightest polished topazes, only warmer. Everything about him was perfect, from the way he slept, to the way he breathed.

Once upon a time, he would have dragged me away here, to this beach. Summer was a time for smiles and laughs and swimming at the beach, he once told me. Once upon a time, on this beach, I might have held his hands, looked down at the grains of sand between my toes, and told him just how much I loved him.

But I can't do that any more.

This is the summer of my ninth year in school. Two years ago, a car came with its burning rubber and its ear-splitting screeches and took away those innocent summer days I'd spend with him on this beach, laughing, swimming, just hanging out…

"Hey there, Alfred," I sat beside the tombstone, the bouquet of roses suddenly heavy in my hands. I ran my fingers through my hair, smiling at his name, carved forever on stone. Above his name was a small etching of an eagle – his favourite bird – and above it sat an angel, its eyes smiling gently, almost sympathetically, at me.

"So, uh, Alfred, I came here today to tell you that this is probably the last time I'm going to visit you," the words came out forced, as a sob tried to make its way up my throat. I fiddled with the cellophane wrapping, trying to find something, anything, to turn my attention to. "But um, even though you can't tell me your answer any more, I still wanted to say this."

I set down the bouquet, and stood up. I could see him, Alfred, in all his perfection, standing before me and grinning. I reached out and caressed his cheek, smiling as I caught his eye.

"I love you, Alfred. I always have, though I can't promise that I always will." The strength was being sapped away from my legs, and I found myself stumbling forward. The dam in my heart was broken, and tears flowed forth, unendingly. "I love you…"

Somewhere, far above the sparkling blue seas and the pure white shore and the people that milled about meaninglessly, an eagle screeched, and took to the sky.

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