Bastard by KandyPop
Let me wake up by your side in the morning and listen to your mellow, sweet voice, as we drink a cup of warm coffee with nothing but beautiful dreams in mind. Sike. You fucking bastard. Angst!USUK
February 18th
Winter was unbelievably cold this year.
It was too cold.
But it fits, doesn't it bastard?
"You should have dressed more warmly." Arthur murmured softly, pressing the scarf against his neck- fingers curled around the knitted material. Winter has just began and flutters of snowflakes blended in the mesh of streetlamps that emitted a warm and comforting glow as we continued to walk. I never understood his overly mother like instincts that he constantly nitpicked me about, but I never minded it to be honest. It was actually rather comforting and I wasn't sure for the exact reason why he acted like a motherly bastard. Maybe it was because he was forced to nurse his little brother, Peter, his entire teenager years or that he was trying to make up the time when my mother or father wasn't around due to their overly stressed schedule. But whatever the reason, he was there for me and I felt my heart flutter slightly whenever he bugged me about something as simple as dressing warmly.
"Maybe I should have." I pulled the edges of my coat closer to my chest- letting out a quivering shiver as the cool breeze continued to pass through the city. "It's a little too late for that now though. By the way, where do you want to eat tonight? Dinner is on me of course."
"I don't want you to pay by yourself." Arthur wrapped his right arm around mine and smiled warmly in my direction. "I'll pay. You've been paying all too many time. I should do you a little favour. You've been so kind to m-me.." his words began to trail off as his feet comes to a halt and bitter tears flowed down his crimson cheeks. Without a moment of thinking of anyone staring- I pressed my lips against his cheek and kissed his fallen tears. He wasn't usually the type to cry with his rigid and motherly attitude. Even when his heart was torn into two and scars paved his skin, Arthur managed to grit his teeth and walk forward with a proud and plastic smile. I had to admire him for that reason. Unlike him, I was a cry baby and just the sight of the Titanic CD mutated my tall and proud figure into a whimpering mess- afterwards, Arthur coming in to comfort me with soft kisses and pats on the back.
"What's the matter baby?" I asked, slowly distancing my face away from his. Snot was dripping down his nose and his emerald green eyes constantly were blinking, trying to stop the flow of tears that nonetheless, continued to drip down his red cheeks. Arthur always looked handsome no matter what was the case but seeing him in such a sad state broke my heart and wished that face never existed. I hated to see him cry like anybody who cared for someone. Guys who said girls look attractive when crying are plain idiots in my opinion. Nothing is attractive about crying if you love them.
"I-I can't be with you anymore." without a moment of thinking, I pushed my hands against his chest- my lower lip quivering. He couldn't have just said those words. My Arthur who I have loved for a thousand years and will love for another thousand years. Okay, that might have been an exaggeration of years but I still meant it. I loved him that much.
"Why?" I demanded, my fingers curling into a tight ball- to the point where my knuckles were a ghastly white colour. "I love you so much though! Don't you love me? I need you in my life Arthur. I need you cause I love you and I love you cause I need you." I couldn't keep track of what words were spilling out of my lips. My thoughts ran at a rapid rate, faster than I can calculate.
"I found someone else." Arthur buried his mouth within his gloves, shying away from me. "It's not your fault. I just think I love Francis more than I love you. I never realized until now when he confessed my love to me and he kissed me with his soft, yet tender lips. I should have resisted it- I knew I should have. I would break your heart. But Francis and I talked and agreed that maybe.." he took a deep, exasperated breath, "..maybe we should split. He said you weren't good enough for me and that he loved me more than you ever could and-"
"Bull crap! That's all bull crap Arthur! You believe half of that shit?" I felt my knees collapse underneath me, clutching onto the hem of Arthur's jacket. "I may not be good enough for you, that is true, but you accepted me into your life as your friend and then lover. I was so happy to be accepted by you because you were always so rigid and stubborn with that motherly side as a plus. I knew how hard you let people in your life and being good enough for you or worthy enough to be someone important in your life made my world. Did you know that?"
I lifted myself off my knees slowly, brushing the snow flakes on my pants, before taking a deep breath myself. I needed to regain some sanity. I couldn't lose Arthur. I needed to say the right thing. And as cheesily as this may sound, the right thing to say was my feelings that I felt for him in my heart.
I continued, "I love you alot more than you know. More than that Francis guy knows. I've been loving you since we met in middle school. I mailed a love letter to you and your older brother, Allistor, ended up opening the letter, because he was staying at your place for spring break or some shit like that and you were picking up Peter at day care. We ended up having the most awkward conversation. He said that he was glad that a guy like me loves you because you were always quiet and you liked to yourself and the books you immersed yourself in. I named so many little notions that most people wouldn't notice and he was grinning from ear to ear the whole time. And when we started dating, I kept noticing more little notions like the gentle kisses you always left me hanging on as we leave to our next class and how your lips curved slightly upwards whenever I said I loved you. And I believed..that you loved me and I still believe that. I actually still have the letter right-"
"But that was years ago." Arthur's voice sounded dead serious. "Francis loves me and I love him back. I love you too but not the same way I did in middle and high school. I was so hoping that maybe you were just as bored in this relationship as I was or had a secret lover so it would make it easier for us. But God's not a fair man in the game of fate I suppose."
"You were bored with me?" I didn't know why but the fact that he was bored with our relationship hurt more than the fact that he kissed another man- especially a man who deceived his pure and innocent heart. "Why didn't you say anything? I always thought we were so happy. You always did look happy."
"Alfred.." Arthur wrapped his arms around my waist stiffly, and despite my urges to push him off, the idea of this being the last time showing any form of affection cluthed at my mind as I seethed my teeth and tried to enjoy the awkward embrace. "I will forever remember every moment between us. I enjoyed being with you. But now we're done. It's over. I'm sorry if you hate this and I'm sorry if you still love me. But I love someone else. End of our story."
I nodded, gritting my teeth and brushing my fingers in his golden locks. The snow flakes that blended so beautifully with the street lamp's warm glow seemed so dull and lifeless now as it formed a thick, even blanket across the street and underneath our feet. Snowflakes, despite their beauty and bountifulness, melts in the end- draining down into the sewer pipes where lays only a dark and never ending tunnel. I knew I would live though- even if it took forever, I will rise above to the clouds. But until then..
"You're so cruel, you know that Arthur?" my fingers gripped tightly around his locks now. "But that's life, isn't it? And I have to be strong and keep moving on like you would do. You're the strongest person I know and you never let down your guard, no matter how much the pain hurt. So I'll follow in your foot steps and smile."
"And I'm smile too." Arthur murmured, his voice muffling slightly with his face now buried in my coat. "I'm so sorry Alfred. Thank you for all the love you given me and I'm not going to ask us to be friends or even acquaintances. But I want you to be a memory of beautiful times and I hope, even after I acted so cruely, that you can do the same."
"That's fine with me. But you have to do me a favour."
Arthur gulped, "F-Fine. What is your request?"
I lifted his chin up with my hand, inching closer to his face so that my eyelashes tickled his nose, "Let me kiss you one more time. You don't have to even kiss back. I just need to feel your lips one more time. I don't remember the last time you kissed them."
"Wasn't that yesterday?" I couldn't tell if Arthur was teasing or being dead right serious. Nonetheless, I shook my head, "To me, that felt like a thousand years."
He nodded nervously, "Very well. One kiss."
A toast to beautiful dreams shattering. Thank you. I inched nearer, digesting in every second of this moment. I would never be able to smell the earl grey tea scent that surrounded him. I would never be able to admire his emerald green eyes up close. I would never be able to taste his rosy coloured lips. I could tell Arthur was nervous just by the way he bit his lower lip and his eyes were not breaking from mine. It was like the first kiss we shared- bittersweet and memorable and lasting.
February 18th
"Artie!" I scrambled to my feet, pushing my glasses toward my face, as I ran to chase after Arthur- who was hidden in the crowd of fast moving students, eager to leave the building as soon as possible. My backpack was rather heavy and made running only more difficult. I wasn't the fastest runner nor was I the skinniest of boys in my school. But I needed to talk to him and desperately. It was a matter of life or death- or love or forever alone in my situation.
I pushed past a few kids, ignoring the grumbles that failed to reach my ears, and pulled him by his shoulder- his back pressing against my t shirt stained in sweat. "Artie..I need to talk to you and I mean now!" my words sounded desperate and jumbled.
"What do you need to talk to me about?" his emerald green eyes stared toward me naively, an innocent smile plastered bringing out his cheekbones that only made me sweat more.
"Let's go to a private classroom." I suggested and he silently nodded, obviously confused. I tugged at his shirt's sleeve (which was quite a beautiful shirt with the expensive European material) and speed walked toward the English classroom in room 23. I managed to convince the teacher that usually occupied the room to leave earlier and give me the key, slipping in a twenty in their back pocket for extra convincing. It was a very special classroom. It was where we met and how I threw a paper boll with my saliva slobbered on it at his face to get his attention; I wasn't openly gay necessarily but I knew I didn't like girls and I wanted to give guys a try and he was the first guy who caught my eye. Not to mention, his birthday was in April 23rd which was double bonus. Last year, I gave him his birthday present in that classroom and this time- well at least I hope it happens as I plan. I think he's interested in me (I THINK) but I'm not sure he was willing to commit considering he usually let little people in his life and I didn't know if he would consider taking another step in our already stable relationship. Yeah, I thought this throughly for nights.
"Is it my birthday?" Arthur gave me a small wink teasingly and I could only pretend that I didn't listen to him because well, my heart was beating fast. I halted and looked toward the sign waving like a bright white flag. This was the classroom. Calm down Alfred and walk in. I pulled him inside the classroom and locked the door from inside out. I didn't want to be interrupted.
"So what's the occasion this time Alfred?" Arthur asked, fiddling with his fingers and just the most adorable smile that he could pull on. He was making it rather difficult to confess. "If it isn't my birthday and it isn't Christmas..oh.." his eyes widened and he grasped me by the shoulders and pulled me into a quick and forceful hug. "You're not moving, are you? Please don't leave me. Is your parents moving because of work or for the heck of it or..?"
"I'm not moving Artie." I took a deep, exasperated breath. "I have something to tell you and it's really important so don't freak out on me until I finish explaining."
"Okay then." he released his hug to my dismay and leaned his back against the desk. "Go on then. Tell me what you need to say because I have to go home and start packing for vacation."
"Alright. Arthur, I'm gay and I'm in love with you." I didn't think the words would come out so bluntly out of my lips. But preparing him for it wouldn't be any different. Arthur's lower lip began to quiver nervously and his cheeks turned crimson which only made me more nervous. Why did he have to look so cute after my confession?
"I don't know what to say Alfred.." he finally managed to choke out. "Of course I accept you being gay, I will always. But you being in love with me? Why are you in love with me? I'm worth nothing. No one deserves to love me.." tears began to slip down his cheeks and without a moment of thinking of anyone staring through the window- I pressed my lips against his cheek and kissed his fallen tears. I was surprised he didn't jump back or punch me in the gut. Nothing.
I released my lips against his cheek, playing with my locks nervously. "I love you because you let me in your life, even though you shut out most of the people at our school. You made me feel special as if I was worth something. I love the way how your nose flares up when I tease you and how your eyes sparkle whenever you receive a good grade in school. You don't even need to smile, it's all written in your face. I just love you for who you are and while I may hate you.." Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly, his face still flushed red. I couldn't tell if it was from the tears or the fact that I was giving the most cheesiest of confessions."I love you more."
"Alfred..I.."
I lifted his chin up with my hand, inching closer to his face so that my eyelashes tickled his nose, "Let me kiss you at least once. You don't have to even kiss back. I just need to feel your lips once. I want to remember this one kiss."
"Very well. One kiss." my eyes widened.
"Really?" I knew my voice was cracking but I didn't care. He actually said okay?
"Yes. If you're a good kisser, maybe I'll consider dating you." Arthur teasingly smiled, his eyes mischeviously sparkling at me and no longer were tears falling down his cheeks, though his cheeks were still crimson red. He curled his fingers around mine and lifted himself up by his heels, puckering out his lips. I couldn't help but laugh. It was so cute and simply hilarious.
"Stop laughing." Arthur pouted slightly and I brushed his locks away from his bangs, gazing into his emerald green eyes. It was the cheesiest moments I ever experienced but I didn't mind. I could hear the fireworks and round of applause in the background. I was going to kiss this man, Arthur James Kirkland, and there was no one who was going to stop me.
"Sorry." I giggled and pulled him closer to my chest- only to lose balance and end up with me against the wall and his face buried in my t-shirt. God, I wasn't going to ruin this perfect moment. I wasn't.
"It's fine. I'm going to kiss you now." Arthur murmured softly, lifting his face to meet mine. Our hands were still intertwined and I never thought I would say this, but our hands felt perfect for each other. There, I admitted the most cheesiest thing ever (besides the confession).
"Shouldn't I be the one kissing you?" before he could reply, I inched forward and pressed my lips against his- a little forcefully but he responded quickly. It wasn't the most amazing kiss but it felt right like I should be doing this. People always talked about how great their lover was an amazing or awful kisser but I don't think it matters as long as it feels right. And how right Arthur's lips felt against mine. I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled him closer (than he already was). It could have been years or centuries but by the time we released our kiss, the rest of the building was a silent battleground.
"Damn.." I managed to choke out, gasping for breath. That was my first kiss with a guy- okay, maybe it was my first kiss in general.
"You were decent." Arthur chuckled softly and pulled me by my collar shirt, "I guess I'll give you a go."
"You fucking bastard. You learn this off television or something?"
Arthur's mouth closed and pressed his head against my t-shirt, "Don't ask idiot."
"I love you."
"I..love you too Alfred."
"Good bye Alfred." Arthur's lips jolted back from mine and my eyes instantly fluttered open. His face was not crimson red but instead a ghastly pale colour- as if someone drained his blood with a needle. His lips looked chapped and felt empty against mine. The kiss was amazing, not doubt about it, but it didn't feel right. I suppose all good bye kisses never felt right- no matter how great of a kisser the person was.
Tears began to swarm at the corner at my eyes before I remembered that I brought this for a reason. Today..today.. I pulled out the crumbled piece of paper, the pencil marks faded but still legible, and pushed it against his chest which he took it with shaking hands. He stuffed it in his pocket quietly, biting his lower lip- his nose crinkling. "G-Good bye Artie. I love you." I managed to choke out between whimpers escaping my lips and my stuffy nose. The ring box rattled in my pocket, but I clenched my fists- refusing to let myself pull out the ring and shove it in his hands. I cannot believe that today, I was going to marry this bastard who I swore my life and dedication to. I knew I let the dating card play too long. Our love was too real. But that all escaped as he slipped his hands away from mine- the hands that held on to me and that I held on to for as long as I can remember.
Arthur winced slightly at the nickname but nodded slowly, "I love you too Alfred. I love you too."
And then Arthur walked away, not looking back like the bastard he was. The only sign that he was even here were his footsteps that were left from his boots sinking in the blanket of snow. But, as the snowflakes continued to flutter down, soon his tracks were erased and his breath- his warmth and love- and even his bitterness and goodbyes- were gone.
In life, love always begin so beautifully like the smell of warm coffee in the morning. It's a happiness and comfortness beyond many people's reach. I am glad I have found the strength to love a man who thought of me as worthy and even as he let go of my hand and walked away to another lover, I will not cry. I may not be over the pain for a while and it may sting against my skin, but I will not let that stop me. I will smile for the future and love the memory that have made me the man I am today and maybe love again and maybe not. Thank you Arthur Kirkland. I love you. Let me wake up by by your side in the morning and listen to your sweet, mellow voice as we drink a cup of warm coffee with nothing but beautiful dreams in mind. Sike. You fucking bastard.
Alfred's Love Letter:
To Arthur Kirkland,
I don't know how to write this goddamn letter. I hope some whore doesn't get this letter and tries to mess with me cause I swear, I'll be pissed if that happens. Okay, enough cursing. I wanted to say something to you and I don't know if I should say it in public or even in private. I just don't know how I'll say it without stuttering like a fool. Now, let me tell you one thing first. I'm gay. I've always been gay. During our fifth grade dance in elementary, I never really found interest in any of the girls. They looked pretty and some even gorgeous- I won't lie about that. But I never felt an emotional connection as I did with my guy friends. I never personally like like my guy friends but I always felt closer to them.
You could say it's simply because we hang out more so we're more closer and that is true. But in sixth grade, the year you weren't there, the guys suddenly got attractive. I mean us guys were all comfortable with admitting a guy looked good in some italian suit, but usually when we say that, we really just want the look to pull off the suit. But I found guys cute and handsome and I remember downloading millions of pictures of hot models and I'll admit this, hot Japanese animated boys. That was my awful guilty pleasure but luckily, my mom or dad never got suspcious of what I did on the Internet so I was free to do as I pleased.
When you showed up, you were really distant and I thought you looked kind of cute to be honest, so I decided to throw the paper ball at you just to get your attention. Sorry about that by the way. We got in that really big fight that got us in detention for a whole week and you kept yelling and nagging at me. You were pretty good with comebacks while I kept throwing pencils directed toward your eyes. I was pretty pissed that you were so good at that matrix like move where you just arch your back so low to the ground in a dramatic fashion. You still never taught me that by the way like you promised.
Eventually, we found out that we both liked the show Supernatural. You liked it for all the demons and angels and I just liked all the drama and emotional aspect of it. I think we were meant to be friends, no matter what. It was destiny. Well maybe. I'm not a big believer of destiny to be honest. But besides that, we became really good friends and after detention hours, we hanged at your place and watched marathons of Supernatural. Sorry for eating all of the Doritos at your place. I think that's the reason why you're so thin; It's cause I eat all your crappy food.
Soon enough, we started to notice our different interests. Like how I loved superhero movies like the Avengers and stuff like that while you preferred Sherlock novels and those magick spell books. Yes, I spelled magick right like you told me. I managed to like that show Sherlock on BBC that's based off the novels but even to this day (of no offense) I don't get those spell books. Not that I don't believe you but it's all too far fetch for me and I prefer asking Google than Satan for answers.
During seventh grade, a few months before your birthday, I had the biggest idea that was pretty fucked up now that I think about it. My parents were not that rich but they pitched in a hundred bucks to my grand idea. I worked extra hours at that burger joint in my neighborhood and managed to scrap up five hundred bucks. It still wasn't enough though. Mattie chipped in two hundred bucks so I had about about eight hundred dollars then. That was only enough for one ticket though and your birthday was like in a week. I really wanted to go with you you know, but time was short so I dragged you to room 23 where we first met. I gave you the ticket and you were so happy and even crying a little. I knew how much you missed England and how your parents didn't have much money after moving in America.
However, you ended up giving it back to me and and that broke my heart a bit. I knew you said you didn't want to go without me but I really wanted you to go. In the end, I managed to convince you to go to England during the two week spring break. Man, was I sucker during that time. I was actually crying for hours, because hey, I missed you a lot and when that person you miss isn't there, it hurts like a bitch. A few days in spring break, I guess I looked that bad that Mattie threw a thousand dollars at me and told me to find you. I took it after a bit of convincing and managed to find you looking up at Big Ben. Your face literally lit up at the sight of me, did you know that?
We returned together around the end of spring break and our friendship literally was stronger than anyone else. We could push down anyone trying to get in our way. That one time, we really did push someone down because they were getting on the end of our nerves. Once exams were over, we hanged out all summer and we took that really cool roadtrip down the shore and got to play at the Jersey Shore all day. Soon enough, it was eighth grade and I think you were getting distant. I understood why. You just lost your parents and were trying to take care of Peter. I knew you didn't care so much about your parents. You hated their guts and complained and spilled every insult and fault about them. How they always insulted and belittled your image, your personality, and emotions as if it was bread crumbs scattered on the table. Maybe that was how we grew even stronger because we both had parents that were barely there to hold our hand and could (cheesily as this might sound) connect that way. One always made their child low on the list of important things in their life while the other treated their emotions like rubbish. Either way, their actions stung. Alot.
Anyway, (this letter is longer than I intended and god damn, my wrists hurt like a bitch) as you distanced yourself from the world more, I felt the world revolve more around you more each day. I thought you were cute in the beginning, sure, but now, I felt myself attached to you more every day, but I was smart and I was aware. I kept my distance when I knew you wanted to be alone and I pulled you into a firm hug whenever I saw the sadness swarm in your eyes. For most people, it was hard to tell when you were sad because your face, no matter the case, stared at the world with strong, prideful eyes and a small smile to greet its pain. But, I saw the invisible tears that swarm the corner of your eyes and spill, until the world was drowning in its sadness. I saw the faint blood that stained your wristbands that you covered your scars with. I didn't want to believe it but you were depressed- in a dark state that I couldn't understand and couldn't save you from, so I watched and held your hand as tightly as I could- where your parent should have been holding. It wasn't puppy love anymore. It was worth more than I could imagine. I know most people say "oh how eighth graders don't understand love in any possible sense." Well to them, I say fuck them with a middle finger raised in the air.
You started to recover during the second marking period and the scars lessened until your wrists were clean of them which made me happier than you can imagine. However, you still were tired and you skipped out on those days where we would usually continue the ritual of our Supernatural marathons in order to care for Peter. I knew your older brother couldn't be there, because he was in college and so he could only send enough money to support your guys bills, even though he should have been saving it for drinking until he passed out or something like that. So I swallowed my selfishness and watched as your smile curved slightly upwards, as you walked away with Peter- holding his tiny fingers that curled around yours just perfectly. I liked Peter alot and he always was fun to hang out when he wasn't acting annoying or naive. I'm glad that while he may not have a mother or father, he had you, and if I could, I would want to be the other, older figure, but you would force me to be the mommy, won't you? We all know you're more mommy like than me. Don't deny it Artie.
God, how wonderful of a person you are. I sound really weird and you're probably blushing like a tomato and fussing and thinking about how you want to crumble this piece of paper in a ball and throw it at my head like I did to you. Actually, I probably think you accepted my love if you did that. But, you really are a wonderful person, because you made me the man (okay, teenager) that I am today. I would have still been some confused, in the closet teenager who would have stared at hot animated guys all day (actually, I still do that, what I am saying). And watching you grow has made my fascination for you grow fonder as my mind seeks to expand. Your little notions really get to me, you know? And they really changed a lot too.
Don't freak out but I'm going to list some notions you have (both good and bad but hey, they make you cute that way):
1. Your eyebrows furrowing as you stare at an odd difficulty and the way your eyes wander across as if searching for an answer.
2. Your fingers curling through your blonde locks when you were struck with a compliment. You have a lot of girls hit on you which I'm not surprised but I'll admit this- I do get jealous though not over the top jealous. It's more like a strike through my chest, before I take a deep breath and forget about it. I'm not as childish as you think Artie.
3. When you bite your lower lip and your nose crinkles a bit, whenever you're nervous or anxious. Usually anxious more than nervous. There IS a difference. Look it up on google. That's why we don't call them nervous attacks. We call them anxiety attacks.
4. How you always attempt to dress formally the day, after I catch your eyes wandering to a passing by lady, even if it's just a brief glance. I know you're straight- or at the least bisexual, though I never seen you stare at a man's ass once. Though you always walk a little behind me. Maybe you're catching a glance at my arse as you say in your country.
5. The way your eyes flutters shut and a small smile curves at your lips whenever you're listening to hip hop or rock or something. I was struck oddly when I found out you liked hip hop out of all people. I always thought British- I mean English- folks liked oldies, but I guess any country likes modern music because the world is always moving. I wonder if that Austrian kid in our class likes hip hop or rock or something now that I think about it. Sorry, my thoughts are everywhere.
6. The way your eyes lighten and your eyebrows, that always seem to wear a scowl, lift up as if it was curving into a smile, whenever you catch me reading or writing. I never knew why you liked the fact that I read and write stories occasionally. Maybe because it contrasts my superhero comic obsessed personality. When you read this, explain that to me, alright?
And those were just a few. I could probably name over a hundred notions off the top of my head. But I don't want to overkill my hand, which I already did, so I'm going to NOW get to my point. I love you Arthur. I loved you since sixth grade when you moved to America and I noticed the back of your head and proceeded to show my "affection" for you. You're the bravest man (teenager) who is so wonderful in the inside and outside. Your body is perfect and flawless without those nasty scars that stung your skin. You are such a caring person and when you warm up to somene (me) , your smile becomes the most desirable thing to see. It was so little that I get to see a real smile from you and when I do, it brightens my day. It would brighten up anyone's day really but especially mine. I know just "liking" you is such a long and distant memory. These are my real feelings. So, please accept them. I'm not afraid to reveal my sexuality nor am I willing to hide our secret. Whatever is the case, I'll do it. Because, I love you that much my little bastard.
With love and sincerity,
Anonymous (though you probably know who this is, don't you?)
Dear younger Alfred,
You will probably never read this, after all, you still are a young teenager and I'm well into my adulthood. First of all, I never got this until now, age twenty two and on the day of our anniversity and our departure. Yes, me and Alfred split and there is no one else to blame but myself. I felt my heart clench as the words escape my lips- tasting so rough against my tongue, like a burning piece of coal that coated my tongue with only harsh and vulgar words. I wish I could take it back, but I chose Francis over my childhood lover who has devoted his life to me and as I read your sweetly chosen words printed on the pieces of paper, I only feel my heart sinking- understanding that indeed, I have lost the love of my life. I was always the bastard of this story, wasn't I? Alfred even know- beforehand as he called me a fucking bastard with such kindness and teasingness, not knowing as I did not know, that they were true.
This is my lost love letter to the man I have held on to for such a long time and a warning to a past, ghostly figure. Though I know you cannot read a letter that is well beyond your reach, I want to transfer these words to you. Please do not fall in love with me. I am only worth insults and bitterness and the warmth you embrace me in is not deserving for a kind like me. You might believe me as an angel but this angel carries dark and selfish desires that lust for a sense of excitement and new area to explore and broaden my horizons. But in the end, that sense of excitement and need to "broaden my horizons" were within you and I lacked the courage nor the will to seek out for it in our relationship.
Yes, I was bored with you in the future and before, you pout and let the anger seep through your veins, I will attempt my best to not defend myself but explain myself in the most rational way possible. Once we began to date, life blossomed in extraordinary ways as kisses became frequent and the warmth of your hand was enough to bring my cheeks to a bright, flashy colour of red. I never experienced love and your love was so pure and innocent, that it seemed to drive away endless insults and difficulties that passed us. It was never the fact that someone made fun of us for our relationship- in fact, the majority supported us with both hands and made us feel more welcomed. My parents were in no way to stop our relationship, nor was Alfred's, so we spent for the next few years in a blissful romance.
When high school days were declining to merely a few months, I remember how strongly you kept enforcing on me that we attend the same college or at least one that was relatively close to each other so we could live in an apartment together. In the end, he was accepted in the City University of New York and majored in creative writing while I attended Fashion Institute of Technology, majoring in fashion design. Yes, I actually enjoyed fashion and creating works out of both common and foreign materials. Every one knew I loved to read, but I was always amused that no one ever noticed that I was reading a fashion book. Well, I really started to enjoy fashion in sophomore year, but that's besides the point of this letter.
We excelled highly in college, due to our strong interests in our major and not to mention, our smarts in History and Math so we were able to help each other out. While your future self was indeed made to create literature, you had an odd knack for mathematics and I still recall nights of you trying to lecture me on how to solve a quadratic equation. And while I enjoyed the creative side of learning, I had that same odd knack, but instead, it was for history. I don't know why but historical facts stick to me like glue and I could recall every battle and general during the Revolutionary War, which began in 1775 and ended in 1783 as a heads up if your past self ever needs this sometime soon. And trust me, I know you will. Because, heads up, you'll bomb that test, which will lower your grade drastically so I reccomend studying and not buying Avengers bed sheet at two in the morning.
Life was perfect, but as I sat on my empty bed alone without the comfort of Alfred or Peter, who was now living with Allistor and his wife, I felt a sense of loss. I didn't even understand myself but my heart felt heavy in my chest and as you greeted me at the door, always apologizing with the same excuse of getting extra help from the instructer or working on an essay in the computer lab, I felt my embrace become less firm and a little more stiff.
That's when Francis arrives during senior year in college. He was the charming frenchman that proceeded to annoy me with insults every chance he received. And you know what I did, I gobbled them up and spat them at his face until our fights became into frequent fist fighting. I was often the one disciplined because he had such seductive blue eyes that made you swallow in his words without a doubt- not at least until much later on in life when you're resting in your arm chair and considering the universe itself. Everyone believed him and that provided a sort of spark that I felt was lost in my life. Francis Bonnefoy was the perfect man in retrospect. And the perfect deceiver.
I fell into his clutch and since Alfred was always out, trying his hardest to excel in his classes, I spent my time in the comfort of the Frenchman. We never did anything. We simply chatted the night away with rolls of cigerattes and a whiskey bottle each in our hands. Alfred never called me when he returned home. Once, when I questioned him why he never wondered what I was doing after I arrived around four in the morning and he seemed to have just arrived from the university, he replied with, "I do the same. Maybe I type and work my ass off something and you smoke a pound of grass or something but what's the difference? It's college. Loosen up."
And that was how I spent the rest of senior year with Francis and Alfred with his instructers. Maybe, if I chose a different college or a different major, I would have never met that deceitful bastard but I guess I had only myself to blame for letting him deceive me. As the saying goes, fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. But I'll explain when he "fools" me those two times.
First time was when he confessed his love for me during graduation ceremony, after pulling him toward a secluded area, away from the others. I remembered my face blushing like a tomato and stuttering and just wishing that I could push him away as he pressed his lips against mine. But, I did the mistake and kissed him back without a doubt in my mind. Maybe I was a sucker for confessions but he kissed with such passion that I could resist- and as the story seems to always progress like, we ended up in bed the next morning naked. The moment I felt his eyes soften toward me and his arm wrapped around my waist, I flinched and ran like a mad man, pulling on my clothes as I ran in the street- ignoring the odd looks from the passing by neighbors who have just awoken and decided to (at least on this particular day) to walk out on the porch and happen to find me running in my boxers, struggling to pull on my shirt as I ran like Forrest Gump.
I gave him a call later and we agreed to forget about the situation and continue being friends. What a stupid, bloody idea that was. I didn't confess my sins to God, to the priest in Church, not even to Alfred as he greeted me with warm smiles and embraced me with such love and comfort that was not deserved from a vile rat that I was. I'm surprised he didn't notice that my compliments and instincts kicked in more as my hugs and kisses became more stiffer and filled with less warmth. I didn't mean to be like that. Men was not meant to cheat and lie unlike the tainted mind that Satan poisoned with his delicated fruit that he lured Eve with.
We met up as often as we could, usually after work, because I knew Alfred's work didn't end until nine at night. I guess I kept our friendship, because maybe I had this odd thought of him being the one going down on his knee with a ring instead of Alfred. The thing was, after all these years we been dating, Alfred never mentioned marriage once. He never mentioned even our future and I felt my heart shatter, whenever he briefly glanced at a wedding magazine that I purposely left on the counter and break his gaze away from it quickly. Our love was dying, I think even he was aware subconsciously, but refused it because look at us. We had our own apartment complex, we lived in a beautiful and moving city, we had stable jobs that ensured that our bills were always paid, and we always held hands and gave kisses to each other, what could be so wrong? It was a perfect relationship.
The night before our anniversity, I walked to Francis, because I was a bit depressed after passing by Alfred in the street, chatting lively with a girl and were exchanging flirtarious looks outside of a jewelry store. I leaned against his chest the whole time as he cradled me, telling me how I deserved someone better and how me and Alfred should split. I didn't know what I was agreeing to and soon enough, I was captured in the Frenchman's hands. I was stupid. Absolutely, bloody stupid.
I don't think I want to describe as I said good bye. The vulgar tasting of my words, the tears that swarmed his precious, baby blue eyes, the desperation rising in his voice, the kiss that left my body feeling like a ghost, and the stubborn wall I pulled up, though I wonder if he knew. After all, you seemed to know me so well. Surely, future Alfred must know better.
As I walked away with the letter crumbled in my pocket, I noticed something odd rattling in his pocket. It looked rather squarish and as I stepped inside my apartment- beginning to pack my luggage, tears began to leak down my eyes as I realized:
Alfred was going to propose to me and I ran away before he even had the chance to.
Fuck my life. Fuck it. I ruined my fucking life. I treated it like a piece of shit. Now you might be thinking, "You may have messed up and became a pretty big douche but you still have a whole life to make up for your mistakes." The thing was that my life was Alfred. It was revolved around him and I didn't even know. Yet you were smart enough to figure that out in eighth grade. I couldn't handle being in the same room where Alfred could appear any second.
And I ran and ran out of there, clutching the letter closely to me within each second. I ran to the first place I could think of- our old highschool and the janitors were still there, sweeping the crumbs left behind from ignorant students. I slipped past them and managed to pick the lock and laid against the door of room 23. The room where we kissed and the room where he gave me the most wonderful birthday gift I ever received. Francis barely bothered to remember my birthday, but he would kiss me passionately until I was swallowed in the warmth of his mouth. But he never gave me security. None of that comfort shit that I craved. It wasn't even love. It was just lust and desire.
As I sit here, crying out my eyes and craving for a swig of whiskey, I write to you now in hopes that maybe you can find this and read it and understand that I'm not worth loving. Though, I know you'll never find this, no longer how long and far you try to search for it. It's a sad reality and as we wait for morning light, both wanting someone that did not belong to us, we will mourn and we will cry, but we will stand strong in the eyes of the enemy...and love him with all our might.
With love,
Your fucking bastard