It's snowing. Not the sort of slushy half-snow we get back home, but proper round snowflakes the size of the pads of your thumbs and it is sticking to the grassy ground. It feels fluffy under my feet and masks the endless red I have been seeing for the past four months or so. The sky is white too and I can't make out where the horizon is, which was good. It means that I can't stare at it for hours, knowing that home is beyond it and becoming sick as I remember my mother and my brothers sitting at a table eating dinner with me on the other side of the world. My mother wrote to me the other week and told me that they always have a place set out at the table for me and that she prays or me twice as hard before she sleeps at night. It almost made me cry.

I don't know why I joined the army to fight in this stupid war. Country pride, that's it. But my pride is somewhat dulled as I watch, and participate in the killing of so many innocent American men. The only reason I continued to fight was because of all of our men that have died, men who would have died in vain if we didn't win the war.

Christmas. It's on all of the soldiers' lips, they talk of it before bed, before meals, reminiscing of times gone by where they would be in the warm, roasting chestnuts over the stove, opening presents with their children and carving the turkey whilst their wives chopped potatoes. I'm not married- I'm nineteen, barely an adult yet. My mother wants me to… but no. I can't imagine myself—

"Kirkland, hurry up! We want to get to camp by nightfall! We have a bit of a, uh, surprise for you guys for Christmas," calls the general, jogging past me and winking.

"Y-yes sir!"

I turn to follow him, but something catches my eye. Someone, rather, sitting behind a snow-capped bush and watching me with clear blue eyes. He (I'm assuming, from the short hair) shuffles away as soon as he catches me looking back at him and I smile gently, mostly to myself. I suppose I want him to know that I meant no harm as well. I walk up to the bush, trying not to startle him.

The boy is sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest and his head buried in the nook between his knees like a child would do if they were scared of the monster lurking in the shadows. That's who I was to him though, a monster who had shot down many of his friends, and who was probably going to kill him, too. He takes his rifle off his back and aims it at my chest, his hand shaking violently. As a reaction, I pull my pistol out of my waistband as aim it at his head, though my hands are steady. It feels unusually heavy as I aim at the boy… heavy and cold. Like his dead body will be if you shoot my mind sneers at me.

"You're gonna shoot me, ain't ya? Hurry up. I… I don't wanna be hurt b-by English s-sc…" the lad has a hard time getting his words out and I watch him carefully as he drops his gun to the ground, blatantly emotionally weakened by this blasted war.

"I won't hurt you." I put the gun back into the holster on my belt. "To tell the truth, I didn't want to hurt anybody but they made it my duty. I'm sorry for any pain we've caused you." I say to soothe the boy. He looks about a year or so younger than me and he has blonde hair, like me, only a dirtier colour, like sand. When he looks up at me in bewilderment, I notice a deep cut along his cheekbone that made me wince just looking at it. "I'm Arthur, Arthur Kirkland." I smile softly again. It is weird, I feel nothing but pity and a burning curiosity for the boy.

"Alfred F. Jones. I don't wanna be here either, but you see, my dad said that I'd be a hero. He told me to do it for America so that we can be free because he wasn't allowed to join since he's blind. I told him I'd make him proud, you see? So I can't leave now, I just can't."

"I joined for the sake of the British Empire. That's all. I didn't think…"

"Didn't think what?"

"…Things would get this bad." I frown and look at the colourless sky.

"Hey, merry Christmas! Well, not really merry but ya know what I mean." Alfred says, grinning widely. He has a nice smile, I think, and then immediately wish I hadn't. It is wrong to think those things of another man but I cannot help it. I have been doing it all of my life, I must be cursed or something.

"I appreciate the sentiment nonetheless. Merry Christmas to you too," I reply, leaning back into the bush, which hides us from the view of passing British soldiers. "Who'd have thought it, eh?"

"I know, right? We're supposed to be enemies. That's stupid… I kinda like this though. You seem like a nice guy, Artie."

"Thank you, you do too. I wouldn't mind spending a little while longer here, or even the night. It's a nice little break from all the formalities of the army, don't you think?"

"Yeah, but what if someone finds us?"

"They won't find us. I promise, we're too hidden away."

It all feels like a big adventure with Alfred here, because now we're breaking all of the rules. Fraternising with the enemy, they called it. Are the Americans really our enemy though? Alfred certainly doesn't seem like one.

The day is slowly fading away and there is a greyish tinge to everything now. A flock of birds fly low above our heads, squawking as if they want to give our hiding place away. This gives me a small internal panic attack because what if somebody does find us? That certainly guarantees the death of one of us. A weird feeling erupts in my stomach and I recognise it as protectiveness. Protectiveness over what? Myself? Alfred? Surely it's not Alfred, we have known each other for all of ten minutes…

To my left, he shivers. "Are you cold?" I ask him, frowning once again.

"A bit. I've been worse, though. Are you?" He asks in return with a slightly worried expression.

"I'm okay… oh! I forgot!" I seem to have startled Alfred with my outburst, but as I reach into the inside pocket of my red jacket and retrieve a flask of whisky; Alfred's expression melts into a grateful smile. I hand it to him. "There, that should warm you up."

"Thanks." He takes a large gulp and then passes it to me and we keep doing that. "To Christmas, I guess, and screwing the rules."

"Aye."

"And what… what did she say then?!" I exclaim, clasping a hand to my face in amusement.

"She said—she said, 'Well at least it'll keep your balls dry!'" Alfred says, muffling his obnoxious laughter with the back of his hand.

"I-I don't understand!" I laugh and Alfred claps his hands together.

"Or me!"

My vision is slightly blurred, it's strange. Perhaps the whisky was too strong? I still notice things like the fact that the sky has cleared, showing a beautiful half-moon that illuminates the area around us, glinting off the snow that is slowly turning to ice with the falling temperature. The moonlight casts a white glow over Alfred's sandy hair, I notice and smile.

"What'cha smiling 'bout, Artie?" Alfred asks and he shuffles closer to me. "I'm really cold."

I wince at the close contact and the annoyingly fond nickname, but allow Alfred to relax into me. It feels nice and natural, the way his body seems to fit exactly against mine like the borders of a country. I supress a chuckle at the irony of the analogy.

"Do you want my jacket over you?" I say, and instantly take it back. "I do not mind if you don't… seeing as it is red, I'm just worried that you're going to get ill."

"Don't be silly, Art. What does it matter if the coat is red or blue? We're friends now, right? Surely we've just broken all of those rules." Alfred gladly accepts my coat being draped over his torso, and uses his body as a sort of human blanket for me making me turn violently red.

"Um, Alfred?" I ask and the boy turns around. "You have really nice eyes." What did I say that for? I am so stupid. I bite my lip and await his reaction, as I hadn't meant to say that out loud. Alfred merely smiles brightly (thank goodness).

"Thanks, Artie. You know, you have a pretty nice smile." I smile at his comment and notice him watching my lips… then his lips are on mine, warm and moist and I feel disgusted at first. What in God's name does he think he is doing?!

I tense and he pulls away, blushing violently and chuckling quietly.

"I-I'm sorry. I guess that whiskey really got to me, huh?" Alfred says awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head and trying not to look at me, but you know, I really don't mind… what he just did. I quite enjoyed it, now that I think about it. I lift up his chin with my index finger and look at those beautiful eyes which are now glistening with embarrassment.

"Perhaps." I mutter and then continue what he started, feeling a little guilty for what I am doing (we could be thrown in prison!) but throwing all of my doubts out of my mind. Alfred leans closer, accepting my almost-invitation happily and he smiles against my lips.

"Merry Christmas, Arthur," he whispers, and then he is kissing me again, it's warm and sweet and slightly hesitant but thrilling and dangerous.

"Heh, merry Christmas Alfred," I say and continue the tender, sweet kiss. My first, actually, but he wasn't ever going to know. Somewhere deep down in my something, something awoke, something that felt like a hundred butterflies trying to escape as my heart tried to free itself from my ribcage.

Suddenly, Alfred ends it, tensing and ducking further into the snow. I go to ask what he is doing, but he puts a finger to his lips.

Snap.

I understand what is happening. A large leather boot comes into view ad stops just over the bush. Someone chuckles deeply.

"Well, well, what have we here? Fraternising with the enemy are we Private Jones?" we both look up and see a towering man with dark hair and an evil smirk that seemed even more sinister in the near-moonlight. He contrasted with the grey surroundings as a harsh silhouette with a glowing white smirk and eyes that were like that of a rat.

"N-no Major Robins it's nothing like that." Alfred stutters, saluting and straightening his back. His face immediately went lifeless, no emotion apart from a trace of fear that lingered in his eyes.

"I see. Well then, you'll have no problem with shooting the man then, will you?" Major Robins asks, his smirk deepening. I stiffen and take in a deep breath, bracing myself for what would come next; my end. It was exactly what I had hoped for since I had killed my first person because the guilt was so intense. But now? Now I didn't want my end to come. I had met somebody… special and I wanted to know him more, spend time with him… love him, even.

Alfred hesitated, looking back and forth between myself and the Major. He looks so torn; his country and his friends or me, a mere Englishman who stole a kiss in the moonlight. One right answer and one wrong.

"I—I…" Alfred looks between us again, and hangs his head. "I guess…"

He reaches into his belt and he clenches his jaw. I am prepared. I knew this moment would eventually come, just not on Christmas day, of all days in a battlefield wet from lying in the snow and with blood on my hands from previous battles.

"I'm sorry," Alfred mutters resolutely and he shoots.

The ground is shaking. No, I am being shaken softly, with a worried voice uttering my name from my side. "Artie? Artie, are you okay? Darn, I've done it now. I've ruined everything."

My eyes flutter open. Alfred is sitting beside me frowning lightly. His expression softens into a smile and I smile back weakly.

I cough. "Hello. Glad to see I'm alive."

"You thought I'd shoot you? I thought we were past that stage," Alfred laughs heartily and I join in.

"I passed out, how pathetic."

"Not really. Hey, what time do you have to be back? 'Cause it's almost morning and I sure as hell don't wanna get caught, eheh, fraternising with the enemy again."

"Um, four or so hours ago. Never mind. I'll be off now, and Alfred? Won't you get in trouble for what you did? I don't want that. If anybody asks, say I did it."

"Sure, I don't really wanna be killed by my comrades either."

"Also, there's another thing I wanted to ask you." I bite my bottom lip.

"Hm?"

"May I have your address?"

"Sure, hold on!" He reaches into his breast pocket and pulls out a small, slightly torn piece of paper. "I kept it with me in case of an emergency. But you can have it."

"Thank you. Well, I'll speak to you soon. Stay safe and Merry Christmas, Alfred." I say and smile softly, watching as his eyes lose some of their sparkle when he realises that we will have to wait until the conflict between our countries is resolved before we can be reunited.

"Merry Christmas Artie! I'll see you some other time. I'm really glad we almost shot each other yesterday. If not, we wouldn't have had such a brilliant night! For the most part anyway…" Alfred says, grinning and I resist the urge to kiss him there and then, and instead tip my hat respectfully and walk away sharply, holding back tears. Pathetic.

I feel him watching me as I walk off in the snow and I know that when we both get through this blasted war, nothing will stand between us. Not our nationalities, not morality, nothing.

QS- Merry Christmas everyone! I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, or if you have an opinion to share, constructive criticism to give, then please review/PM me. Alternatively, you can contact me on my tumblr which is… shizukana-utahime :)