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In the Aftermath (Or how I am coping with Trump winning and knowing I will be losing all my rights)

Summary:

The only way I can process and cope with the outcome of the election is apparently by writing Hetalia fanfiction and this is the outcome. Just a short little blurb of Arthur comforting Alfred the day after the election and desperately trying to give myself a glimmer of hope through my anger and wonder at how this happened.

Notes:

Not beta'd I'm running on little sleep and a whole lot of anger. I am sure I'll get around to properly editing this eventually, but for now, enjoy. This is how I cope, it's better than punching walls and fighting with clowns who voted for that awful man.

Work Text:

It was gloomy. The weather outside his window matches the storm of emotions swirling inside of him. The storm clouds gathering and blocking out the sun cast the world in shades of pewter. Alfred F. Jones had always been known for his infectious smile and bright blue eyes filled with unending optimism and unyielding joy. Today he could hardly get out of bed, that once bright smile and those hope filled eyes lost to the turmoil that filled his mind.

His phone had been ringing on and off all day, somewhere on his nightstand where he had left it last night. He’d been ignoring it. He didn’t want to deal with all the congratulations and condolences alike about the outcome of the election. He could barely process that he was once more stuck with than man for another four years.

Matthew was lingering somewhere in the house, a calming presence that Alfred could only get from his beloved twin brother. No matter what happened, how time changed and shaped their countries, their lives, seemingly the only constant in Alfred’s life was Matthew.

Alfred was grateful that Matthew was there. Even if he hadn’t been out of his bedroom all day, taking up residence at his large bay window and simply staring at the world outside, covered in gray overcast. Even Mother Earth is mourning the results.

“Matty, I don’t want to talk to anyone right now.” Alfred mumbles when he hears the door open and shut quickly, not bothering to even look in the direction of his bedroom door.

“We don’t have to talk, I just thought you could use some company. I sent Matthew out to get some food.” Arthur’s voice is calm and collected, like he has the answers to every question in the known universe.

“Arthur.” Alfred breathes out, no louder than a whisper as he finally turns his head to look over at the door, tears immediately stinging his eyes, desperately trying to keep his tears from falling. The last thing he wants is to look weak in front of Arthur. He’s the hero. He’s supposed to be strong all the time. He shouldn't be showing weakness over the results of an election.

“I came as soon as I saw that Trump was in the lead. I didn’t want you to be alone and Matthew can only do so much.” Arthur explains in a comforting voice. He crosses the room in a matter of seconds and sits down next to Alfred, placing a comforting hand on his knee.

“You are allowed to feel whatever it is that you need to. This was not the result you, and so many of your citizens were hoping for.” Alfred looks over at Arthur, his tired eyes filled with unshed tears and pain, and underlying fear for the future.

“How could this happen again? How could they vote him in again?” Alfred asks, his usual loud and confident voice no louder than tired muttering.

“You are stronger than you realize, Alfred. Feel what you need to, process these emotions as you need to, but do not forget that things will change. Your people are strong, they will come out stronger. You’ll come out stronger.”

“I don’t feel very strong, Arthur.” Alfred looks at him with almost childlike fear, like he needs more comfort than he ever has before. It is a look that Arthur hasn’t seen in years, not since eighteen sixty-two when the United States was in the midst of their civil war and Alfred was practically being torn apart.

Arthur instantly wraps his arms around Alfred, pulling him into a tight and comforting hug. “You will get through this. You are far from being alone, Alfred.”

Alfred sniffles, wiping his face dry of the tears that had fallen without him realizing it. “Thank you for being here.”

“I will always be here when you need me. Even if you rebelled against me.” Arthur says, a hint of teasing evident in his tone.

“You’ll never let that go, will you? It was over two hundred years ago.” Alfred rolls his eyes, swatting at Arthur’s arm lightly.

“This is not the end, far from it. It is the beginning of change. I can feel it.”

And when Arthur says that, for the first time all day, Alfred feels a small glimmer of hope shining through the anger and frustration. Maybe it would all be alright. Maybe this was the beginning of ushering in an era of change.