Eternity Blooms|AmericaxReader

Eternity Blooms
AmericaxReader



"Alfred, please." you begged. He kissed you head, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. "I'm so sorry, babe. But it's for the best." Alfred replied, pulling you in for a hug and kissing the top of your head.

Your precious boyfriend of three years was about to leave to fight in the war.  

You shuddered in his arms, holding back tears. You failed, and buried your face in his bomber jacket. Inhaling the scent of him, you sighed happily.

"Alfred," you said, sobbing into his jacket. "Don't go." His heart broke when you uttered those two words. Salty droplets streamed down his face as he hugged you tighter.

You already knew the answer. As much of a completely selfish, immature person Alfie could be, he loved his country. Alfred was willing to protect it--no matter the cost.

"I'm so so sorry, (y/n)." he said, tilting your chin so you could face his baby blue eyes. "Promise me you'll come back," you cried, squeezing his waist.

He planted a sweet kiss on your soft lips. "I promise."

On the day he boarded the plane to Iraq, you, Arthur, Matthew, and Francis stood at the airport. "Come back, Alfie," you said once again before he left. He smiled sadly at you. "I promise." he promised again, sealing it with a kiss.

"Take care, Alfred." Arthur said, hugging his brother. Alfred grinned. It wasn't often Arthur hugged him. "I will." he told his brother. "Take care of (y/n)." Alfred whispered in Matt's ear.

Shivers traveled up Matthew's spine. He knew how much you meant to Alfred. "I will." Matthew managed to choke out. Francis dramatically cried out. "We will miss you, Alfred!" he wailed, falling into the American's arms.

Alfred chuckled then rolled his eyes. "Six months, I think you guys will survive." he said, hoisting the Frenchman off him. "We'll try." you joked.

As you watched Alfred's plane take off, you hugged Matthew. "Let's go home," he said, wrapping an arm around your waist.

While Alfred was gone, you and Matthew had to entertain yourselves until he returned. In the house you, Matt, Francis, Arthur, and Alfred shared, silly games were created to keep peace in place of Alfred.

Many rounds of hide and seek, kick the can, and Mario Kart took place in the first month. All of you sent letters to Alfred, and he would reply within a span of two weeks from sending.

Alfred could never find the time to video chat back home, and he was lucky if he got to even call. But when he did, the whole house seemed five hundred times cheerier.

Although he was gone, you always set a place for him at the table. Although he was gone, Matthew always made a pancake for him every Sunday.

He was gone on your anniversary. Alfred still made an incredible effort though, and ordered a bouquet of flowers from the local florist. The same florist that supplied the bouquets Alfred bought for you the past three anniversaries. The note on the card said, 'Don't miss me too much. -Your Alfie'

That cocky son of a gun.

Coping without Alfred was harder as time went on. By the time three months passed, the games got old and boring. The whole house now seemed like an old citizen's home.

You were about to go insane. You hadn't heard from Alfred in a full month. No letters, no calls--nothing. What if... No. You couldn't bear yourself to think the terrible thought.

But as time went on without any contact, you couldn't escape the possibility that he might. Then it happened.

It was a calm Tuesday evening. Francis had already come home from work, and was upstairs taking a shower. Arthur still hadn't gotten home, and Matt had the day off to spend with you.

"Any fours?" you asked warily. "Go fish." Matt replied, equally as bored. You groaned, and slipped a card from the pile. "Any queens?" Matt asked. "Go fi-"

You were cut off as Arthur stormed through the door, completely breathless. The sudden loud noise made you and Matt jump six inches in the air.

"WHAT WAS THAT?!" Francis shrieked, thundering down the stairs in sky blue silk pajamas, his wet blond hair fluttering behind him.

"Arthur, don't storm in like that!" Francis scolded, folding his arms. "Artie, what gi-"

"It's a note from the Department of Defense." Arthur managed, still breathing heavily. You gasped, all the cards floating down to the rug out of your hands.

You all waited anxiously on the couch, waiting for Arthur to regain his breath before he read the letter aloud. You had a horrible feeling in the pit of your stomach. No. It couldn't be.

Francis sat hunched over, his elbows propped on his knees. "Well, come on then!" Matt said impatiently. "We haven't got forever!" Arthur ripped open the envelope, taking out the white sheet and cleared his throat.

"We regret to inform you-" No. You shook your head, hunching over and covering your teary eyes. "that your brother, Alfred F. Jones-" No! You couldn't stop the streams flowing down your cheeks.

Arthur's voice cracked with emotion. "was killed in action during combat operations in Afganistan." You choked. What you feared actually came true. "NO!" you cried, rising from the couch.

You refused to look at the brothers' broken looks. Your heart had shattered enough. You sprinted past a sobbing Frenchman and a silently crying Brit.

"(y/n)-" Matthew began, his voice hoarse. "It's lying!" you screamed, tearing the door open. "(y/n)-" Matthew tried. "SHUT UP, MATT!" you cried storming out of the door, barefoot.

"(y/n)!" he shouted, grasping a hold of your wrist, forcing you back. You looked up at his violet eyes with tears emerging from it onto his cheek. He looked at you with a sympathetic glance.

You immediately broke down in his arms, sobbing into his red hoodie. He set you down on the concrete, joining you. Matthew cried into your hair, tears wetting your (h/c) locks. The both of you stayed there a while, in each others' arms on the sidewalk while the sun began to touch the earth.

It took everyone some time to get over the loss of Alfred. During his funeral, you mourned over an casket that contained no body. Nevertheless, it a place was still set for him, and a pancake made every Sunday.

A good eleven months had passed, and by that time, the mourning stopped. Sure, you were still saddened when someone brought it up--it was like picking at an early forming scab.

His birthday passed during that time. It was one of the hardest things you had to get through during those eleven months of rebuilding. You all agreed to take a trip to Washington D.C., Alfred's favorite city.

Today, you were inside snuggling with Kumajirou. It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, and Francis had dozed off. Arthur occupied an entire sofa while he lied down and watched some soccer.

"Yes... yes.. RUN! NOW RUN! GO GO! SHOOT--YES!" he shouted, clapping his hands like a small child. He blew a noisemaker and waved his arms like crazy. You rolled you eyes, smiling to yourself.

"What day is it today?" Matt asked beside you. "March 23rd!" Arthur shouted, still too focused on what was going on in the match. You felt as if a dull knife had just stabbed you in the stomach.

March 23rd. What was supposed to be you and Alfred's fifth anniversary.

You held back tears as you shuddered. "(y/n)? What's wrong?" Matt asked. "It's the twenty third, Matt." you choked.

"Twenty third? What on earth does that have to do with any-Oh." Arthur stopped as he began to realize. Matt caressed your hand. "Shh, don't cry, (y/n).." he said soothingly.

After three minutes, you shed your last tear and said, "You're right. Alfie wouldn't want me to, right?" you said. Matthew smiled at you. All of a sudden, there was a knock on the door.

"I'll get it." you said, rising from the seat. Matt followed you out of curiosity. You opened the door to see the local florists' delivery man, holding a bouquet of red roses.

Your brow cocked up. "May I help you?" you asked, certain he had the wrong house. "Flowers for Miss (y/n) (l/n)." If you could seem even more confused, you did.

"From whom?" Matt asked. "From a Mr. Alfred Jones." the man said, reading from his clipboard. You blinked in surprise.

"I'm sorry, there must be a mistake." Matthew said, putting a hand on your shoulder to show some support. "My brother died almost a year ago." The delivery man just shook his head.

"Is this some cruel joke?!" you hollered, scaring the wits out of Arthur who was watching the game. The delivery man shuddered.

"N-no, miss.. Would you like to call my manager?" he says, holding out the phone to you. You quickly snatched it out of his hands. Dialing the number on his clipboard, you waited until the local florist picked up.

"Hello? My name is (y/n) (l/n). I got a bouquet of flowers today from my dead boyfriend. Can you explain that?!" you shouted, tears streaming down your face.

"Just a second, ma'am... Does your boyfriend happen to be someone by the name of Alfred Jones?" she asked. "Yes." you snapped.

"Well, Miss (l/n), he called me a month prior to his death, according to the record I have here, and pre-ordered years worth of bouquets for you."

You hastily wiped the tears away from your cheeks. "Thank you," you managed, handing the phone back to the delivery man. "I'm so sorry for your loss..." he said, walking back into the truck and driving off.

"What was that?" Matt asked. "Alfred apparently pre-ordered me years worth of bouquets in case something went wrong..." you said, your voice cracking with emotion.

You buried your hand into the bouquet, feeling for a slip of paper. On the note, it said, 'My love for you is eternal. -Your Alfie'