non-beta

He who gave me hope

Drabble

By HamburgerWithTea

Alfred could remember it very clearly; the days back then when he'd first met him.

It all started at a night club. Alfred wasn't supposed to be there, of course, but hey, he was young and everyone his age did it, so it shouldn't hurt to do so, right?

He used to go there every Friday night, watch how girls would strip themselves for money, get drunk on all types of drinks, getting laid every now and then… He did all he wasn't supposed to do, but he didn't regret it. It had been the time of his life, and he was happy about it.

That was until he met with the bright green eyes, staring at him from across the room. Alfred couldn't help but stare back; he didn't want to focus on the girls that were fawning over him, he just wanted to go meet the green-eyed man for real. And so he did.

Without saying much he just stood up, the girls were all boring and fake anyways just good enough to give him a nice night once in a while, and he started walking towards the other end of the room.

He noticed the man was sitting alone, still staring at him, and he sat down in the chair opposite from the man. Both didn't say a thing, as if speaking was forbidden, but instead they just looked each other in the eye as they made a silent conversation; You, me, tonight.

And that's when Alfred had the night of his life. They'd started drinking from the bottle of vodka Alfred found in his apartment, not even bothering to grab a glass, ad they started touching and kissing and doing all god forbid.

It had been a beautiful night, even more beautiful than one could have ever imagined, as they both fell asleep, silently.

When Alfred woke up, Arthur had already left without a trace, seeming as if nothing ever happened, the only evidence being the empty bottles and knocked over objects. Alfred felt good, it'd been perfect.

That's how it went for about half a year, every Friday. They would look for each other, make eye contact as Alfred would sit down in front of him, barely saying anything except important things, and they were happy. So happy.

After a few times Alfred and the guy would start talking more. Nothing serious, just the casual conversations. Alfred asked for the man's name; Arthur. Just Arthur, no surname was told, as they continued on with their lives. Alfred thought this was a beautiful name.

After that their Friday nights would become even more affectionate, passionate and lovingly. They changed from rough sex into tender and loving touches, they would kiss each other long and gently, they would snuggle afterwards, they would talk about their dreams and future. About Arthur wanting to be a writer and Alfred a movie star, about wanting to travel, marry and have a good life. About dreams and hopes, about friends and foes. They talked about it all as love started to grow in their hearts, making their feelings even stronger.

Or so Alfred thought.

The first Friday he hadn't found the green eyes staring at him, he figured Arthur was probably busy or ill, or just hadn't come. He didn't think much of it and just went home to spend his first lonely Friday evening in months. The whiskey he'd bought was drunk all by himself, leaving only one last sip of it left. He still didn't think much of it.

But the next Friday was the same; no sight of green eyes, no staring, nothing. Alfred didn't feel like thinking of anything bad as he retreated from the club, figuring he'd nothing to do there.

Despite his hopes, it went like that every Friday; no sight of the blonde, green-eyed man. No passionate evenings. No affectionate touches. Nothing.

Alfred went there every week, but slowly stared coming less and less often, picking up his life again, denying it was ever there. The club didn't exist for him anymore, the Friday evenings didn't exist for him any more, and Arthur didn't exist for him anymore. They never had.

The memories made Alfred sad, as he slowly looked back at the book in his hands. Arthur Kirkland read the name of the author. He'd received it in his mailbox today, no note or anything, just the book.

It seemed to be a novel of some sort, probably a fantasy or romantic one, judging from the cover. It felt special to Alfred, being able to touch the book. He could feel the passion and love he'd felt these Friday nights come back, he could remember it so clearly, as he thought back of the green eyes.

The green eyes staring at him, passionately, lovingly. The ones making his heart beat faster and making his life worth so much more.

The green eyes who broke his heart, left him, silently. The ones that belonged to the man who's fingers wrote this book, who's fingers touched him, felt him, loved him.

Alfred could hardly believe it were the same hands who did all those things, all of them, as he slowly opened the book, knowing neither of them would ever forget each other, as he started reading the small intro.

"Dedicated to Alfred, he who gave me hope"

/Author's Note/

Uhm small drabble I wrote, I don't know.

I do not own Hetalia or the characters, those belong to their rightful (awesome) creator, Hidekaz Himaruya!
(03/21/12)