"By 'cleaning' I meant to go tidy up the attic as an excuse to undust old remembrances lying hidden in the junk I've refused to throw away. Why am I wont to do this when I'm already feeling down? Beats me. Maybe because history books allude that I, Great Britain, have always been a cocky glutton for punishment. Specifically that I'm fittingly destined for a life of seclusion. There's never been much of an argument otherwise. But today was one of those days I pondered the futile hope that there is an argument in my defense buried somewhere in the past." - A clean platonic bromantic short fic : )