Pinky Promise

"I have to go again."

 The words were something Matthew was used to, the words that he heard so often it was like the minute he said them, he didn't even have to ask. They were words that stung his heart every time he heard them. They were words that despite how much he hated them, he couldn't make them go away. They were words that forever remained embedded in his head as the one factor that took his hope away.

It was dawn; he assumed it was anyway. It was dark in the room, no sunlight daring to rear its head into the room yet. There was a clock in the corner of the room, and it was so quiet that the two could hear it ticking around and around, ticking their time together away.

Matthew rolled over in the bed as Arthur sat up, running his fingers through his already messy blond hair. He glanced over at the Canadian, and frowned, knowing how much the words hurt. The clock continued to tick in the silence, and for a moment he didn't dare move.
            
"How long?" the question came out as a whisper, almost inaudible, almost undetectable.

There was another pause. That question always came up. It was always asked without fail. Yet every time Arthur could only give the same answer.

"I don't know."

Matthew flinched a bit at the sentence, though he knew he shouldn't have. It was hard on both of them; it always had been and always would be. He swallowed heavily, as he nodded slowly. It was cold, he realized suddenly, and he figured out that it was because the other body next to him had shifted, and gotten up. Matthew pulled the covers over him tighter, looking up a bit.

"I'm sorry."

They were meaningful words. They held meaning, feeling, sincerity, but all the same they were empty. It wasn't his fault. He shouldn't be apologizing. He couldn't control when he went and when he came home. But he should've been able. But he wasn't.

"Don't apologize. You can't help it."

There was another quiet as Arthur walked around the room, doing odds and ends as Matthew's eyes followed him. His heart felt heavier with every waking second. He swallowed heavily.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

He felt like sobbing. He felt like getting up and grabbing hold of him, telling him that he wasn't allowed to go. He felt like this every time he had to go. Yet he always fought off the emotion. It was like a cycle. The emotion came, and it went. He began to rise, knowing fully well what would be said momentarily.
            
"No, no, don't worry. You can stay in bed."
            
Still, Matthew remained in a sitting position, watching him carefully, and dared a glance to the clock. It was only six forty-five. He was right; it was still dark out. It bothered him. Why did it have to be so early?
            
"You'll come back, right?" Matthew asked softly, knowing he could never get a true answer.
            
Arthur was quiet for a moment, and then nodded. "I always do, don't I?"
            
"But there is always a chance you're lying to me."
            
He let out a small laugh, airless. It held no humor, it had more amusement than anything, or resentment. It was a feeling the Canadian couldn't detect in his voice. He assumed that Arthur knew he spoke truth.
            
"There is. But what can one do?"
            
Another wave of quiet passed over them, as it always did. This was likely the last quiet moment, for soon he would leave. Too soon, he thought. This quiet wasn't so bad however, this one was more pure, and sweet, but sorrowful all the same. That silence said so many things. It spoke of goodbyes, of love, and of heart.
            
"I should leave now. The war is calling."
            
"I know."
            
There was a small smile on Arthur's face, barely visible in the dark. It wasn't a happy smile, nor a sad one. It was just a smile, a smile of multiple feelings, and of no feelings at all. "I'll come home, Matthew. I always have and I always will."
            
He turned, but before he could go anywhere Matthew stopped him. "Wait."
            
He did. Matthew rose from his spot, and walked over, pulling him close. Arthur waited a moment before he hugged him back, and when he did he clenched the fabric of his shirt, struggling to keep his emotions in check.
            
"I love you so much..." Arthur said lightly.
            
"I love you too..."
            
Hesitantly, the two pulled back, and the Canadian forced a smile of his own to appear, as he held out his pinky finger. "Promise me, promise me you'll come home."
            
Arthur wrapped his own finger around his. "I promise I'll come home."
            
~~~


Matthew sat at the cafe without a sound, sipping his tea calmly while reading a book in the afternoon sun. It graced his cheeks, making a sweet, honey smile appear on his lips. It felt peaceful, and for once he didn't feel as if he were carrying the weight of a thousand people on him. He continued to read, his eyes scanning the pages. He laughed a bit as he read A Midsummer Night's Dream by William Shakespeare. He always read Shakespeare when Arthur was away. It made him feel closer to him, for he always loved to read it. The way the book was written was also amusing to read, he noticed.
            
The boy flipped the page, taking another swig of the drink. He continued to read a line, "My heart, Is true as steel" before he realized something strange.

His vision had begun to blur.
            
Was he...crying?
            
Matthew touched his eye, and realized tears were indeed welling up in his eyes. It was then that he remembered the line. Arthur always used to say that to him. The memories all flooded back to him, and more tears came.
            
"Please...please come home..." the boy whispered, closing the book, covering his eyes as more tears streamed down his face. "Don't break your promise to me."
            
~~~

Waiting. Waiting was always the hardest part of this stupid war. He sighed, wanting it all to just go away. Everything reeked of death and misfortune, of sadness and anguish; he wished he could make it disappear.

They tended to wait for longer than they had to, and it ate every single one of them inside. Most of the time they were all too focused and nervous to keep up a conversation, he was the same.

Though, this time someone came up to him.

"Kirkland, right?" the one gave a grin, somehow in this catastrophe.

When Arthur said nothing, he continued. "Carriedo. Fernandez-Carriedo if we want to use both surnames. You're pretty powerful out there. What keeps you so level-headed?"

The Brit merely shrugged, glancing down at his pinky finger. "Hope."

"Hope for what? There's nothing hopeful out here. All around us there is death."

Arthur glanced over at the curious jade eyes, but kept a blank expression. "That person gives me the hope that I can do this."

"Oh, so you got a missus back home~?"

The image of Matthew flooded into his mind, and for once, he allowed himself a small smile.

"Something like that."

~~~

"How're you feeling?"

Matthew shifted his gaze to his brother, shrugging a bit. "I'm just fine, why?"

Alfred came and sat down next to him. "Well, at the café the other day, Kiku told me he caught you crying with a book in your hand. Something happen?"

The younger brother frowned and sighed. "Yeah…it's just…that book…there was a line and it just made me…"

"Think of Arthur? It was Shakespeare right?"

He winced. "Yeah…"

Alfred sighed, and after a moment he shifted positions, pulling his brother into a warm embrace. "It'll be okay. He'll be okay, right? Arthur's a strong guy, he'll pull through."

Matthew nodded slowly, feeling safe in his brother's arms, hoping that Arthur was safe as well.

~~~

Weeks passed, and weeks turned into months. Those months were dreadful for Arthur, like a never-ending cycle of insanity that tormented him.

He was surprised that he was still alive, as he always was after the first month. He expected to die somewhere in the middle, like most of the soldiers around him. That Carriedo boy still held on, somehow empowered by the words they'd spoken prior.

Arthur felt tired. He felt like there was no way out of this. Arthur was almost certain that this time he wouldn't make it. He was almost certain that this time he would just have to give up. He closed his eyes.

"Looking tired there, huh Kirkland?"

The Brit opened them again to see Carriedo smirking at him playfully. He shifted a bit. "About as tired as an insomniac."

He frowned. "I was expecting more of a, "Not quite." You giving up?"

Arthur grumbled. "More or less…I can't take this much longer. It's not worth it. I'm just so bloody tired of everything, of this."

"What about the lover back home? If you give up you won't see them again."

The images of Matthew continued to flood into his mind, the happy ones, at any rate. Arthur thought of the boy's reaction if he died out here and he found out. He would be distraught, and sad, and he could imagine that he would cry a lot. Matthew was quite sentimental with things.

"I suppose I'll just have to die with that regret."

Carriedo seemed to flare up in anger, his face scowling suddenly. "How horrible. So you're just going to let them suffer with your death? It's a wonder how they even fell in love with you. If I were you I would die trying to get back to them, not just dying and regretting it. I thought you were stronger than this, Kirkland, I thought you had hope."

"When you've been at this so long, Carriedo, and it gets to the point where it physically pains you to tell them that you have to go and possibly be killed, it's hard to keep that hope. Maybe if I go then he can be happy with someone who won't leave him every few weeks," Arthur shot back irritably. Who did the think he was?

"Then I guess you should just die huh? If you can't even fight for the one you love then you shouldn't have a right to have them," Carriedo grumbled, feeling no sympathy for him at all.

As Arthur watched him turn, something about the words he said struck him. He felt as if his heart grew heavier as he thought about it, and he glanced down at his finger, the words echoing in his mind.

"Promise me, promise me you'll come home."

He clenched his fists. "A promise is a promise."

Carriedo stopped. "Come again?"

Arthur forced himself up and walked next to him, holding up his pinky finger. "A promise is a promise. Sorry Carriedo, I can't die just yet. I made a promise that I have to keep."

He grinned, patting him on the shoulder. "Now that's what I wanted to hear."

~~~

Matthew's eyelids drooped as he watched the television in the dark. The sound was quiet, just barely high enough to hear. More or less he was just mesmerized by the images that flew across, scarcely paying attention to what was actually said. He closed his eyes, letting the late night weariness wash over him.

There was a vague sound at the door, but he heard it. He rose his head, rubbing his eyes as he wondered just who it could be at this hour. Alfred would've called, and he could think of no one else.

Matthew looked through the peephole and felt his heart stop. He quickly fiddled with the lock, and opened it up, throwing his arms around the person standing there.

"You're back…! You're back…!"

Arthur laughed lightly, nodding slowly as he held him. "Yes, I am. It's good to be home, love."

A broad smile crossed his lips. "I'm so glad you're safe."

The thought of telling him he almost gave up was not a fond one, so he decided to keep it quiet. "You were the only thing that kept me going."

For a moment Arthur was quiet, their eyes meeting briefly. Matthew couldn't ignore the feeling of happiness that constantly rushed over him. He knew this feeling wouldn't last as in a few weeks he would have to go again, but he supposed that was okay. He was used to it now. Now, he had just a little bit more time.

"You kept your promise…" he said softly.

The Brit brushed a few strands of hair behind his ear, before pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"I always do."