Letters From Home EnglandxReader

                                                       

Letters From Home

You heard a tentative knock at the door, followed by a soft call of your name. Having been reading peacefully for a few hours before a certain someone came knocking, you were rather sluggish to respond.

"________?"

As you bounded down the stairs, you recognized the English accent that belonged to your best friend. He sounded rather troubled you noticed, and when you opened the door, your suspicions were confirmed.

Arthur gave you a weak smile, wrapping his arms around your small frame like it was the last time he ever could do so. The stiff fabric of his uniform whining as he did.

"Arthur? What's wrong?" you asked softly, pushing him back by the shoulders so you could look at his face.

That gentlemanly look he always put on was gone, replaced with a look that reminded you of when you two were little and he had broken your favourite toy.

"I have to go." He said simply, trying so hard to not tell you the full truth.

"Go where, Artie?"

"War,"

You must've looked at Arthur for a good ten seconds before having something that sounded like "Oh," escape from your open mouth. It probably came out more of a groan than anything else.

"For h-how long?"

"A year at the most,"

The blonde Englishman must have caught the pained look on your face, because he immediately placed a hand on your cheek and kissed your forehead with the utmost delicacy.

"I'm sorry," He whispered, flashing a small smile.

You couldn't take it anymore. You flung your arms around him and snuggled your face into his chest. Not seeing your best friend - and you had to admit, crush, if this kind of loving affection could even be called that - was something you probably weren't going to readily accept.

Arthur put his arms around you awkwardly, rubbing your back softly, trying to have you calm down enough so he could talk to you about this new development.

"I'm sorry, love," he kept repeating those three words into your ear, sometimes combined with a "so" in the middle of them.

After at least two minutes of just standing there in your doorway, letting in the warm summer breeze, you were able to partially let go of Arthur's army uniform and look up at him.

"If you're going, then I'm sending you letters." You said, not bothering to ask if you could or not.

Arthur smiled, wiping away a tear that you hadn't realised was rolling down your cheek with his gloved thumb.
"I'd love that, love." He said.

"Good." You responded firmly, giving a curt nod as well, beginning to gain your pride back. "Well, do you want to come in and have a cup of tea?" You asked with a small smile, deciding you wanted to spend as much time as possible with Arthur before he had to go.


That was at least five months ago, by now that warm summer breeze had disappeared, replaced with chill winds that made frost gather over windows and sparkling snow that covered the ground. Arthur was still at war, but on the bright side you had been sending letters to him almost every week, as well as receiving them. Most of your conversations were about his fears at war, his family, and his experiences at war.

You were holding one of his letters in your hand, wiping off some of the sand from the once sticky part of the envelope. The actual letter held as much as a soldier could possibly fit in the limited amount of time he had.

       Dear, ________
I'm happy to note that it's been nearly five months since I've left. One more month, and I can come see you again, if you don't mind.
Of course, my hand is healing quite nicely, the American medic is fairly skilled with gun shot grazes, I've learned. Though I have to admit that the bloody git gets on my nerves when he whines for a hamburger and chips.
I'll admit I'm scared, ________. It's getting rough over here, and I'm worried I won't be able to see you again. Especially since I won't be able to send you letters until I come back home and knock on your door.

Love,
Arthur.

Your smile faltered. He had expressed how worried he was many times, subtly, yes, but you could tell nevertheless. Now you were getting worried, even with just a month to go by until he could come home for a while, he wouldn't be able to send you letters. What if the next letter or phone call you got was to tell you that Arthur had died? A thousand and one questions and worries came up in your mind.

Putting all of those out of your head, you looked at the date on the letter. September 23. It was November 23 today. Had the letter gotten delayed a month?

 A month...

As you registered that he might knock on your door any minute in his army greens, your doorbell rang.

With no grace whatsoever, you practically sprinted down the stairs, hearing your blood pumping through your ears and stomach turn with your excitement and relief. Was it Arthur at the door?

It bloody well be, you thought.

Upon flinging open the door, you were greeted by the pale skinned, blonde, green-eyed Englishman. You didn't say anything, merely wrapped your arms around him and pulled down gently on his scarf he wore around his neck, to collide your lips softly with his.

In the last five months, sending letters back and forth to Arthur, reading everything he wrote, not missing a single letter, you had realized something. You loved this stupid Englishman that worried you to bits. And if for some reason, he wasn't coming home after he left again, you wanted to be sure Arthur knew that you loved him.

Arthur was slightly surprised, nearly as much as you were at your own actions. Still, he responded by eagerly kissing you back, letting the moment linger even when you two parted.

"Never. Ever worry me like that again." You said, making a halfhearted glare up at him, securely keeping your arms around his neck, having drifted there during the kiss.
"I'll try not to, love." Arthur said, a small smile on his face.

        "I love you, Arthur," You muttered into his shoulder, feeling your cheeks turn a shade of red that would challenge even a tomato's shade.

"I love you too." He responded after a short pause.

As much as it was heartwarming that he held the same feelings for you, that situation was made slightly awkward by your flatmate putting down the groceries behind you and Arthur, and starting to giggle.

"Called it." She said in between fits of laughter.