The world's filled with many people who have many different ways of finding happiness. Some find it with food, others find it with animals. Many people name these people with rather harsh, rude names. Gluttony, cat woman, etc. But probably the worst are the one that find happiness with money. They are called insensitive, selfish, greedy, inconsiderate, self indulging yet, these people tend to be the most loneliest.
Arthur was someone everyone considered cold. He had plans and he was going to finish them no matter what. His rather unstoppable determination annoyed many, as he fiddled his way, his way to the top. In elementary school when the teacher asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up, he said with the dead face, "to become as rich as possible."
Apart from all these people that find joy in the ways many find is pathetic, there is one group of people many respect. These people are the ones to find happiness from the presence of others. They are everything many aim for. To be happy no matter where they are, no matter what situation they are in, as long as they had the important someone by their side, they would never regret the choices they made to get where they are.
Alfred was liked by many, many, many different people. He tended to influence others not just by his charming personality, but with his want to help others, pushing them forward. He never fail to make one smile.
Alfred had heard of Arthur before. Arthur wasn't very popular but he was rather infamous in the college they went to. Many talked behind his back, and many were even rude to him in his face, the only reason being that Arthur never said anything back, just his eyes were narrowed in his mouth became a straight line. He was like a black void that continuously attract negative attention, sucking it in silently as he kept going on with life.
But Alfred's first impression of Arthur wasn't tainted by the black dye of rumors.
Arthur had heard of Alfred before. Arthur was a silent man that didn't talk to anyone, allowing him to silently keen into people's conversation at times. He never really remembered Alfred's name, but he did know that there was a boy that might as well of been the sun itself. But he didn't have time to worry about others that had nothing to do with himself.
Arthur had goals and his life planned out in front of him, just waiting for the satisfying check symbolizing that it was done, complete, finished, one step closer to being accomplished.
"Arthur, I'm sorry but we're going to have to cancel the marriage arrangement we previously made. We have found someone who is more fit for the position."
And that's all it took for him to crash, to turn off, allowing his instincts to take over as he started his way through the rainy early spring weather. Normally he would've gotten a taxi and paid for the fee when he made it home, but today he felt like walking. Or maybe he didn't want to waste money. Or maybe he just didn't care anymore, because the one door leading to his wished future closed and locked itself from the other side, leaving him like the black void everyone imagine to him to be. Everything he worked for, every determination, every spirit within him sucked up into the void.
Everything adds up, one by one in life. The rejection was what caused the rain walk. And the rain walk cause the cold. And the cold caused him to miss two days of class. And missing two days of school caused a certain boy to be waiting in front of Arthur's apartment, debating whether to knock or ring the doorbell.
Nobody really noticed Arthur's disappearance in class. Or maybe nobody cared, continuing their lives they have lived without Arthur. Only one person noticed, or cared other than the professor that took attendance. And that one person was waiting in front of his door.
The boy decided with ringing the doorbell over knocking, because he was going to need to get Arthur's attention.
He pressed the button and waited, hearing the sound of the bell echo through the apartment room. No one answered.
The boy then debated if he should leave and come back later to try again, for he didn't want to sound rude. He turned around to start walking away, only to turn back because he felt like he still might be coming to the door, his head swiveling back-and-forth.
Suddenly the door opened, revealing what one would call a mess. Arthur's messy hair was flying and sticking up everywhere, his usually crisp cloth choices being nothing less than an oversize shirts and baggy sweat pants.
Arthur stared at Alfred, his eyebrow scrunched up creating wrinkles on the upper part of his nose, his mouth in a scowl, his teeth showing at the corner of his mouth to emphasize the annoyance he was feeling right now. His eyes looked at Alfred, dead.
Alfred jumped up a bit when the door opened. He was both surprised that someone answered the door and seeing Arthur answered the door.
"Well?" Arthur asked in an irritated tone that barely escaped his scowling lips.
"Hello! I'm here to drop off some of the notes and homework you've missed during the two days you've been absent," Alfred said, hoping that his voice sounded confident enough.
Arthur's narrowed eyes softened a bit as he watched Alfred dig through his bag and pull out a pile of paper which was handed to Arthur.
Arthur stared down at the paper, as if he was thinking. He then reached out and took the paper from Alfred who released it instantly and leaned against the side of the wall in his apartment, quickly looking through the piles of paper that had accumulated from the past two days. A sigh quickly escaped his lips as he pressed his fingers on the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes.
As Alfred looked more closely, he started to notice some things about the boy.
There seemed to be bags under his eyes, which was very prominent because of his unusually pale skin. But what hypnotized Alfred was Arthur's eyes, the normally forest green eyes that never failed to show emotion was dead, like the silent night at midnight
When Alfred snapped out of his gaze, Arthur was leaning forward to grab onto the doorknob. He kept his head lowered a bit before he looked up and said, "Thank you Mr. um..."
"Jones," Alfred quickly replied, his arms falling to the side as he felt his back straighten. "Alfred F. Jones"
"Hm, yes Mr. Jones. Thank you for bringing in all of my stuff to me and I'm sorry that you had to be forced to do this. Anyway, thank you and goodbye."
The door closed with a click right when he finished talking, leaving Alfred a bit stunned. He then turned around and started to walk down the stairs, making his way back to his apartment in a bit of a giddy mood.
To tell the truth, Alfred actually wasn't forced to go deliver the assignments. He more or likely volunteered to do it. He did it all on his own free will to see one thing.
Alfred placed his ear buds into his ear and began to hum a song even though nothing was playing. His pace ranged from slow to fast, depending on the beat that he was humming.
Back at the apartment room, Arthur was slowly making his way to the end of the hallway where his bedroom was. He shuffled his eyes lightly through the mass of paper, not soaking up any information before he threw them onto his desk. The paper at the top shifted a bit from the force of being thrown and landing on a surface. He then maneuver his way around the clothes, or to be more exact, the suit that was randomly thrown on the floor in his bedroom.
He let out an "umph" when he landed on his bed before throwing his comforter over himself because he felt cold, freezing. Something scratched his throat as he let out a dry cough to temporarily relieving the aching and stress that had built up since he answered the door.
Alfred smiled as Arthur frowned.
OOOOOOOOO
Arthur continue to miss more classes. A few days passed and Alfred decided to go to Arthur's house again, to not only to give him his missed assignments but to check up on him as well.
When the clock struck a certain time, their professor announced the lesson was over before he proceeded to shoo students away, many of them waking up from their slumber. The students then stood up and walked toward the exit, except for Alfred who was jumping down the stairs to where their professor was packing up.
"Do you need something?" The professor question, barely looking up from his bag packing.
"Ah, I was planning on going by Mr. Kirkland's again so I was wondering if I could get any assignments you have left over for him," Alfred said, leaning back and balancing on the heels of shoe as he looked a bit to the side. The professor stopped his bag packing and pulled out a few pieces of paper which he handed to Alfred, and threw his bag over her shoulder before he too exited out the door.
Alfred look down at the papers he received, making sure the professor had given him everything he needed as made is way to the exit.
Sometime passed with Alfred walking alone until he was joined by someone who tapped on his shoulder.
"Emily! Hey, what are you doing here?" Alfred questioned after he turned around. Emily flash a smile, showing her straight white teeth before she began talking.
"Me and my friends were wondering if you wanted to join us to watch the football game today," she said as she pointed toward a group of people who were crowded by the side of a building. A guy noticed that they were looking at them and waved at Emily, causing some of the others to turn around and wave as well.
Alfred took his gaze off the crowd to look back at Emily, who was smiling at him in a hopeful way.
"Sorry Em, but I actually have to go somewhere," Alfred said, shaking the papers in his hand. "I need to head by Kirkland's to give him his missing papers."
Emily, instead of looking disappointed, looked back at Alfred with the pitiful expression. Alfred looked back to her, a bit surprised.
"Well, I need to go but I'll make sure to go to the next game!" He said before his pace quickened toward the front gates. Emily yelled out goodbye before she too fast walk toward the chatty group by the side of the building.
It didn't take too long for Alfred to get Arthur's apartment. Well, not too long for Alfred standards for he was used to walking a far distance to get to his apartment. His shoe hit the smooth hard surface of the stairs creating a slight tap noise as he walked up to the fourth floor, finding himself once again waiting nervously in front of the door.
But this time instead of debating on whether knock or ring the doorbell, he was already pressing the doorbell.
Just like last time, no one came right away. Just like last time, Alfred started to wonder if he was gone and if he he should leave. And just like last time, Arthur open the door.
Right when Arthur poked his head out from the door, Alfred noticed many things.
Arthur's hair looked greasy and Arthur look sweaty and Arthur's face looked even paler and Arthur's eyes had darker bags and Arthur's eyes look tired and Arthur looked-
"I'm guessing you're here to give me the assignments again?" Arthur barely managed to say. Alfred snapped out of his deep thoughts and nodded his head in affirmative. He then raised his hand holding the paper up to Arthur, who weakly pulled it out of his hands before flipping through the papers. Alfred return to looking at him.
A dry cough came out from Arthur after he raised a clenched fist to cover his mouth. Alfred felt himself winch a bit as he furrowed his brows. Not too long after, Arthur let out another cough, his arm holding the paper falling to his side.
"Well thank you again Mr. Jones," Arthur said before he reached out for the door handle. Alfred stepped back a bit to let the door by even though he wasn't in its way, as he watched Arthur. Arthur seemed to be moving slower, as if he was really tired, trying with all his might to accomplish such an easy everyday task.
Alfred stood there until there was a tiny gap left before the door would close in which Arthur quickly glanced up, reminding Alfred how much his eye lacked of emotion, causing something in Alfred burst as he opened his mouth and reached out, to Arthur.
Click.
The door closed before he could do anything.
Just like last time, he saw Arthur. Just like last time, Arthur called his name. And just like last time he was thanked. But unlike last time, instead of a feeling of satisfaction and a bit of happiness, he felt horrible, disappointed, and a bit down for not being able to do anything.
And unlike last time, someone fell to the floor on the other side of the door.
It was almost as if someone blasted it through a microphone, in slow motion. Alfred heard everything, from the scattering of the paper, to the noise of the watch Arthur wore hitting the wooden floor. His instincts caused him to fling the door that was in his way to open as he looked at a man lying down. Alfred quickly chucked his backpack and kicked his shoes off before he ran and kneeled right next to Arthur.
In his panicking mind his first thought was the hospital, which he quickly dismissed for it didn't seem like it was anything horribly serious. He flipped Arthur over to his back before reaching down and touching Arthur's sweaty forehead, a tremendous amount of heat entering his body. Without a second wasted Alfred picked up Arthur and began looking through each room for a bed, which fortunately because the lack of rooms the apartment had, didn't take that long.
The room was dark, causing Alfred to almost trip over some of the clothes that was thrown onto the ground. He gently placed Arthur onto the bed, fixing the pillow under his head until it seemed comfortable to Alfred, before throwing the comforter lightly over him and making sure that he was tucked in tightly.
His panic started to diminish as he registered that Arthur was now safe, noticing the boy was starting to pant, in a slow and steady pace.
Alfred stood up, pulling his jacket down a bit as he came down with the conclusion that he should leave, for it wasn't like he got permission to even come into his house. As he made it to the door to the room, he turned around to look at Arthur and bite down on his lip, before making his way to the entrance door.
As he walked down the hallway, he finally took notice of the big mess Arthur made with all of the papers on the ground, and before he knew it he was picking up the papers, sorting them back in their original order before going back into Arthur's room to place them on the desk in a neat stack.
As he planned to leave this time he stepped onto one of the clothes on the ground, quickly raising his foot up when noticing that it was still damp. He scooped it up and shook it, to see that he was holding onto a suit coat. Alfred looked over at Arthur in a questioning look, wondering what caused this organized man to leave such an expensive item laying around, in such bad shape. All the Briton did was pant. Alfred moved over to reach down and pick up another mound of cloth which, as he guessed, were the pants to the suit. He spared Arthur another glance before he began searching through each of the rooms for a washing machine in which he threw the clothes in.
Finally, he went to the entrance door and bent down to put on his shoes, until he began to wonder if Arthur was going to get hungry. He debated for a short time, only to once again postponed leaving and entered the kitchen, grabbing anything food he could find in the fridge or the cabinets, along with a pot. He quickly filled the pot up with broth and placed it on the burner, pulling out a cutting board as he placed some carrots and onions onto it. He finished dicing both of the vegetable and threw them into the soup before washing the cutting board down with the soapy sponge that was placed at the corner of the sink. The soap glided down into the sink as he rinsed it down with water as he grabbed onto a towel to wipe it so he could place it back into its original spot. A hum emitted from his mouth to keep himself company in this silent room as he finished the mess he created.
He looked down at his watch, taking note of the time it was and what time we was going to have to end up leaving, if he wanted to make it to work. As air bubbles arose up to the top of the broth, Alfred found himself a bit bored, and decided to look around, and see what else he could discover about Arthur, that he had yet to know about.
The ratio of food and microwave food proved to Alfred that Arthur did not cook or didn't have enough time to cook. The mass of books on the shelves told Alfred that Arthur definitely enjoyed reading in his spare time, especially the collection of Sherlock Holmes and Shakespeare for how much their bind's were worn out after years and years of reading. And he was able to conclude he didn't like his family too much, for the lack of pictures that were placed in the room.
The only picture he found was of Arthur and a boy, who seemed to wearing a young sailor's uniform. Arthur was sitting down with the boy nuzzles up, sleeping on his shoulder as he pushed the boys bangs to the side. The light was hitting directly on both of their faces, illumination the soft smile that was presented upon Arthur's lips as he looked down at the boy, his eyes expressing a bittersweet feeling.
Alfred reached out and gently picked up the simple metal border to raise the picture closer to his face, so he could look at that smile, that was trapped for eternity in that thin sheet, for people to admire at. He couldn't help but also smile, as he remembered about a memory that would for sure be forever trapped in his mind no matter what.
It was a rainy day. Not like a downpour or anything horrible but a slight drizzle that would annoy anyone. But this was the most memorable day for Alfred for he got to see everything first handed. The child's rain boot splashing into the puddle causing countless more raindrops to fall to the ground, the collision of the two forces grabbing ahold of each other, holding themselves tight as if their world should shatter the moment they loosen up their grip in the slightest, and them falling to the ground, causing mud to smear on each others clothes which they ignored, not minding it in the slightest as their smiling faces radiated brightness and light on such a gloomy gray day. The older man's eyes shined with a great green luminescence as it smiled down at the sea blue eyes which looked up with just as much enthusiasm.
Arthur and the boy held onto each other that day, not caring about anything that was going on in the world, soaking in both rain and mud as they smiled and laughed with each other.
That was the first time Alfred F. Jones ever saw Arthur Kirkland, three years ago.
And that was the first time Alfred F. Jones fell in love at first sight.
The sound of bubbles popping became audible for Alfred to hear, causing him to rush over to stir the soup, a stupid childish smile plastered on his face. He began tasting it, noticing the lack of salt which he quickly began searching for through the cupboards.
"What are you doing here?" A voice came from the entrance of the kitchen, causing Alfred to jump a bit in surprise. He turned around and was greeted by Arthur, who was frowning toward Alfred in a confused way. The comforter was loosely draped around his shoulders but wrapped around tightly enough for everywhere but his head and shoulders to be covered. His eyes stared back, dull and barely alive.
"Good afternoon to you too!" Alfred replied, hoping to sweeten the mood a bit, which proved to be ineffective when Arthur demanded what he was doing here again.
"I'm just helping you out," Alfred said as he stirred the soup. A sigh came from the doorway leading to a moment of silence that wasn't broken for a while.
"I don't need your help so please, just get out," came from the doorway of the room. Alfred spun around to look Arthur, who was leaning against the wall, his hand placed on his face.
"I don't think I can do that. You obviously need help anyway-"
"Just get out,"
"But you-"
"Just leave! All you're here is to see me weak! To see me pathetic and worthless," Arthur suddenly vented out toward Alfred, who stared back at him with a tightly closed mouth."You guys are all the same anyways," he then mumbled.
Pathetic and worthless was the last words he wanted to hear, and especially coming from Arthur, who always seemed to be able to stay strong even when he didn't have anyone's support or be by his side. Alfred didn't like to see Arthur describing himself in such a sorry way, almost as if dehumanizing his own self. A bit of anger boiled up as he replied.
"That's not true!"
"Oh yea! Then bloody hell tell me how that isn't true!"
Alfred stood there, thinking for a reply. There was no way he was going to tell him about his feelings, not in the least. Definitely when the person would obviously reject him. He didn't want to lose such a chance to be with him like this.
"Exactly. Now please just leave."
"No." Alfred said in a deep voice, more like a command then a reply.
Arthur stared back at Alfred, surprised and stunned by the sudden determination coming from him. Alfred eyes furrowed as his dominant side took over, until he noticed Arthur flinching back a bit, worried, scared of him. He began blinking, disassembling the side he tried so hard to repress over the years of his life, and gave him a fake smile.
"Because I'm the hero you know. I want to help out the people that are in need of my help," he said before a chuckled a bit dryly, his hand itching the back of his head.
He shined his white teeth toward Arthur, who was finally regaining some strength after the rather surprising event.
"Well I don't need it. As you can see I am working perfectly fine without you," he said as he snapped back, his head tilted back a bit as he glared at Alfred, whose smile was becoming more and more genuine as he noticed something in his eyes. Arthur suddenly turned around a bit to the side to let out a dry cough.
"No, you need my help. You passed out earlier today and I have no idea what will happen if you I let you cook by yourself, so just let me finish. I'm almost done anyway," Alfred said in an insisting tone to Arthur.
Arthur stood there as he thought, whether to go against Alfred or agree. Arthur knew he was in no condition of taking care of himself but the idea of having someone else take care of him dented his pride, or what was left of it after that night. Remembering about the night caused darkness to fall upon Arthur once again, his eyes drifting back to vast nothingness as his mind went blank. Everything was over, everything was gone. He failed to do the one thing he spent his life working on and there was nothing to get it back. The door closed and locked Arthur in the darkness, for what he hoped was for forever as punishment for the failure.
"Hey? You there?" A questioning voice that was filled with worry rang through his ears as he snapped out of his dark state. "You okay there?"
"Fine," Arthur said, surprising Alfred, his voice filled with no emotion Alfred could identify. "Do whatever you want, I don't care anymore."
Alfred would have felt happy about being able to stay with Arthur a bit longer, but the couldn't help but feel a great amount of loss. He looked over toward Arthur as he stirred the soup, watching the boy that was staring down at the ground with a blank expression as if he was lost.
Alfred couldn't help but feel like he failed as a hero.
Silence clogged up the room like a poisonous gas, choking away any ideas Alfred had for a conversation starter. He began humming again, hoping to take both of their minds off of the tense atmosphere to a lighter one.
The silence continued on.
Onions and carrot chops rose up to the surface of the soup as Alfred kept stirring, taking in a sip every now and then to see if the flavor was right. Arthur was walking toward the bookshelf in a slow but swift motion, the comforter trailing behind him like a train, coughing every now and then. He stood in front of it for a while, his eyes scanning through the titles of books on each shelf until he came upon the picture. His ghost eyes looked at the picture, before his gaze was casted to the side, the hand not holding the comforter gently laying the frame flat, the picture of an everlasting memory, covered.
The soup was done. It was done for a while. Alfred just wanted to stay, an excuse to be with him longer. It hurt, truly, to see him feeling so down. He wanted to reach out, maybe even hold, hold him tight. He had no idea why he was down and he wanted to know, but he knew it wasn't his place to ask him what was going on, for they only first started talking a few days ago.
"You should lie down. You need to rest if you want to get better," Alfred mumbled a bit, trying to be quiet enough for him not to hear at the same time hoping that he did hear him. He turned his head to look over at Arthur, who was shuffling around, raising the comforter higher and tighter around himself as he shivered. Alfred assumed he didn't hear.
Arthur actually heard him, loud and clear to be truthful. He just wanted him to leave, to let him erode by himself in his house, alone. The last thing he wanted was another person to worry about, but he knew that this was going to be the end to their relationship. Arthur's personality was cold on purpose, not in nature.
Alfred looked at his watch, to get his mind off of things but unfortunately, it only caused panic to surge inside of him as he began frantically moving toward the door. He grabbed onto one of his shoes, leaned on the wall and hopped toward the door as he tried to put his shoe on.
"The soup is ready so eat it while it's still hot! And make sure to sleep and keep yourself hydrated!" Alfred shouted while putting on his other shoe. Arthur looked at the pot boiling on the stove, bubbles bursting as it bubbled with warmth. He kept his feet planted at the base of the bookshelf.
The sound of the door closing echoed through the apartment, telling Arthur that Mr. Jones finally left, left him alone. He crouched down and wrapped the comforter around his body, keeping himself in the dark. He wanted to just wash away, disappear along with the shadows in the life of just following orders. Figures stood around him, pointing, laughing, mocking him as he sunk deeper and deeper into the forever darkness, away from reality. He was falling, falling, falling, falling, and-
Arthur unconsciously sniffed the air, the aroma of different flavors misting together for the tasteful smell. Something in his stomach rumbled, reminding him that as long as he was human, as long as he was alive, he was going to have to follow the game rules of natural instincts. He flipped the comforter from his face, squinting from the sudden bright light blinding his vision as he craned his neck to the pot on the stove once again. Arthur silently pushed himself up, keeping a good grasp around the comforter wrapped around him like a cape, keeping everywhere warm except for his hands, face, and legs that were moving forward to the kitchen.
He stared down at the pot, shivering a bit from the warmth that gently touched his face. The soup was light brown, the onion and carrots bobbing on the surface, the slightly visible steam rising up and diverging to go around Arthur's face. And with that he grabbed a bowl from the cupboard, pouring the warm liquid, watching the chunks slip from the scoop into the bowl.
After pouring in a fair amount of soup, he turned around, and slowly lowered himself to the ground, leaning against the lower cabinets. The comforter stayed, wrapped around his shoulders, keeping his legs, stomach, chest, and arms warm while the soup heated his hands and the steam warmed his face.
The only thing cold was the frost bitten heart.
Arthur took in another deep whiff, before unconsciously taking in a gulp. It was hot, scorching hot, but heated up his body, his stomach feeling warm in a pleasing way. He sighed right when he finished taking in the gulp, only to engorge in another sip, the flavor clashing onto Arthur's tastebuds.
He ate to his hearts content that night.
OOOOOOOOOOOO
The next day was a fairly gloomy day, the sun covered by darkening clouds. Alfred left work later than he expected, mostly as punishment for coming in late the day before. He looked up at the sky, taking note on how the clouds looked like they were ready to spill at any moment. When he left the supermarket, it was drizzling.
Alfred made it to Arthur's apartment after running for about five minutes, his clothes sticking onto him like a second skin. He pulled out his backpack that was tucked under his jacket, making sure that the contents in there were dry, thankful that he wore his thick bomber jacket today. Alfred felt himself shiver slightly before he rang the doorbell.
The door opened slowly, cracked open enough for Arthur to peek one eye. After noticing Arthur, Alfred pulled out a plastic bag from his bag, the name of a supermarket written in bold letters as he gave him a toothy grin. Arthur shut the door with a slam.
"Oh come on! Just let me in," Alfred yelled, shocked by the sudden action of the other boy. He banged on the door a bit, before sighing with little hope. What was he expecting? He stayed over Arthur's house without permission and even used his kitchen, stayed even when Arthur told him to leave, leave from his own house. He gently placed the grocery bag on the cold floor, combing his hand through his soaking hair.
Arthur was panicking on the other side of the door. What was he doing here? Why would he even come back? And with food this time too. His mind raced with question after unanswered question, confused about what Mr. Jones was even thinking. He sunk down onto his bottom, leaning against the door as he buried his head into his arms.
On the other side, Alfred was now sitting down, also leaning against the door as he waited for the slight chance of being let into Arthur's house. He took off his glasses and wiped them, removing the rain droplets stuck on the lenses.
The two waited, waited for the other to do something. Arthur kept hoping that the American would leave while Alfred kept hoping that the Briton would open the door and let him in. He even cracked the door open at one point, only to see the American sitting, waiting, hoping. He quickly closed it without a second of thought.
Arthur didn't understand. He was confused, very very confused. Why would someone want to come back, to him of all people? Mr. Jones seemed like a nice person that probably had a fair amount of friends. Why doesn't he hang out with them, then just some man that was sick with the fever? It didn't add up, what-so-ever to Arthur as he kept his head buried.
What he didn't know was Alfred would do anything, anything to help him out. He was a hero after all right? He just wanted to help him, to get him back, for him to return back to normal. And maybe if he was lucky, score some extra points on their relationship meter. He wouldn't do this for anyone else but Arthur. He just never had a real chance to show it.
Some time passed and Arthur felt the lack of the comforter getting to him. He then slowly pushed himself up, one hand placed on the wall to balance himself as he began inching toward his room. Until he heard a sneeze coming from the other side of the door.
He stood there for a bit, before he rushed over to his room to grab onto the comforter. After wrapping it around him he pushed the shades, welcomed by the view of downpour.
Alfred was freezing. Gusts of winds swept by him, chilling him to the bone as he huddled by the door. He thought multiple times about giving up, to leaving the groceries and change into warm clothes as he looked up at the sky. He couldn't see the sun, the sky darkening for night was descending at a quick pace. Yet, he was still worried about Arthur, whether if he was eating and sleeping and keeping himself hydrated. Just another minute, he kept reminding himself. Just another-just another-just-
Alfred felt pressure on his back and leaned forward, allowing the door Arthur was pushing to open up, enough for his face to be visible. Alfred stood there, a bit startled that he actually did open the door as Arthur twisted his neck, facing away from Alfred.
"Just get in here…"
Alfred barely heard Arthur mumble as he jumped up and suddenly pulled Arthur into a hug. His teeth clattered a bit as Arthur stood like a rock, petrified.
"Thank god," Arthur heard Alfred whisper as he held Arthur tighter, the wetness soaking into the Briton. Arthur felt horrible. He let the only person that would come by his house to give assignments as well as help him when he was sick and make food. And it also seemed like he was too much of a stubborn git to even understand what he was doing to his body.
So no matter how uncomfortable Arthur felt that moment, he didn't think it would be right of him to push the other away. He couldn't just refuse him, he couldn't just force him to go home like that.
They stood for a while, Alfred feeling warmer as Arthur felt colder. A wind whipped by, reminding the two they were still outside, the door open. Alred was the first to move.
He jumped back, his body, especially his face heating up as he rubbed his neck. He wasn't sure how Arthur was going to react, so he kept his gaze to the side, picking up his backpack and plastic bag. A nervous smile formed on his face as he turned to look at the door, only to see Arthur's back as he walked down the hallway. Another gust of wind came, pushing Alfred into the apartment, as if rooting him on.
Arthur turned into his room, disappearing from Alfred's sight as he sat down to pull his shoes off. Water dripped from the inside of the shoe onto the floor, some accumulating together to form a small puddle.
Something fell on Alfred's head, his arms shot up to touch the item, the soft fluffy fabric tangible against his skin. He looked up, some droplets of water racing down his face and trailing down to his shirt which soaked it up.
"Do whatever you want and leave," Arthur said before throwing some neatly folded clothes next to Alfred and returned back into his room.
Alfred shook his head as he secured the towel with his hands, droplets flying everywhere. He then jumped into the bathroom and quickly changed into the clothes Arthur gave him. He slipped on the pants, his ankles cold from the lack of length and his movements a bit stiff because of the tight shirt. He sighed and knew this was going to have to do for now as he looked at himself. He laughed at himself silently.
He left the towel hanging around his neck as he walked over to the kitchen with the bag of groceries. This time he planned on making pancakes, something his brother taught him to do. He couldn't make them as great as Matthew, but he was proud of how well he could cook, coming from a family whose diet was mostly Mickey D's.
Steam rose up from the pan and the butter sizzled as Alfred mixed the ingredients together to create the batter, thick and yellowish. He scooped up the batter and spilled it on the pan, trying his best to make a perfect circle. He then took off his glasses as he wiped his forehead with his arm, before cleaning the lenses that fogged up a bit from the steam. His hair was mostly dry now, the stubborn cowlick that was flat from the rain now pointing straight up.
Alfred became combing his hair with his hand, hoping to be able to get the askew strands to go back in their normal place. His other hand reached out to open a drawer, pulling out a spatula as he hummed a bit, swaying a bit in the beat. His mind drifted into the song, as he spun around and flipped the spatula in the air and flawlessly caught it before he gave a pose, his arm raised up high as he leaned on one side.
"Just get your shenanigans over with and leave," came from the door. Alfred jumped back to see Arthur standing by the door once again. Deja vu echoed through Alfred's mind as he gave him a weary smile, embarrassed and wondering if he watched the whole dance.
"Tonights pancakes!" He said with excitement, directing his attention back to the burning pancakes. One was forming with bubbles while the other pancake in the pan was still gooey all around. Alfred stiffen as he felt the comforter around Arthur gracefully touch his skin, barely noticeable yet so obvious to Alfred. Arthur was reaching up to one of the cupboards and pulled out a cup, went to another to pull out a box of tea bags, and unplugged the electric pot before stacking them all together and leaving the kitchen.
Alfred stared at the doorway for a while, wondering if he gave off the wrong vibe to Arthur. He slouched a bit as he looked back down at the pancakes, not looking as pleasing and ready as they did a few seconds ago. He flawlessly forced the spatula under the pancake and flipped it over, the golden brown color blotted on the baked side of the pancake. When flipping he caused the smell of pancakes to waft up toward him, giving a mouth watering feast for his nose. Then an idea sprung in his mind.
They were both ready when he decided to follow his plan. He kept them in the pan though, for it was easier to carry as he walked toward Arthur's room. Alfred turned the doorknob and slightly kicked the door open, surprising Arthur who was sitting in his desk, impatiently waiting for the water to heat up for his tea. He scowled up at Alfred, confused on what he was planning.
Alfred then waved the pan around, holding himself back with the other. He flashed the confused Arthur with a smile before he shut the door.
One of Arthur's eyebrows rose up with a questioning look. He returned to anxiously waiting for the water to heat up, until he understood why Alfred came in his room.
Arthur felt his mouth water as he inhaled the scent of the burned butter and pancakes. His stomach rumbled a bit, his nose desperately wanting more. Arthur smashed his fists onto the table in frustration, his mind remembering that he hadn't had anything since the night before. He then proceeded to push himself up as he pulled the plug to the electric heater and headed out to the kitchen with a defeated sigh.
On the table was a stack of 3 pancakes, the butter square melting on the top, the maple syrup waiting next to the plate. Alfred was humming again.
Arthur sat down in the chair, more like slumping down with defeat. He raised the fork silverware in his hands, unused to the cool touch because of the overuse of plastic. He glanced over to Alfred who was still making pancakes, showing no sign of stopping.
Arthur sighed again as he reached up for the maple syrup, pouring the thick sugary liquid that usually would have disgusted him onto his stack of pancakes. He pressed the fork down on the top of the pancakes, the spongy breakfast food splitting softly. He then sunk the fangs of the fork into the pancake, inspecting it before he stuffed it in his mouth. It tasted like something he would never admit bluntly. Delicious.
Arthur kept munching it down, bite by bite, chew by chew.
"You want anything a drink?" Alfred turned around to ask, only to restrain his laughter at Arthur who had small chipmunk cheeks stuffed with food. Alfred was mostly done now, waiting for his last batch to be cooked as he went over to the fridge, pulling out some orange juice. Arthur gave him another questioned look, shuffling through his mind to remember when he even bought some.
Alfred cleared the confusion by stating that he brought it along with him today.
He pulled out two glasses, pouring the juice into both, watching the orange substance steadily rise to the top. The two cups were picked up and placed on the table before he got his plate of pancakes. Alfred sat down excited, as he poured the maple syrup, the bottle getting close to being empty. He then cut simultaneously through 3 pancakes, stabbing them all with his fork before attacking the delicious meal.
The rest of the meal went silent, along with some loud chewing noises and slurping noises from Alfred. Alfred kept looking up toward Arthur as he chewed on his food, trying to strike up a conversation. But Arthur kept his head down, staring down at the pancakes he was slowly eating away. Alfred sighed in defeat, but in a way, he didn't want to start up a conversation because he would have to maybe deal with rejection. But sadly for Alfred, he hated boredom and silence more.
"How are you feeling?" Alfred asked, deciding on a safe question that wouldn't raise any suspicion. Arthur stopped chewing for a moment, his fork slowly lowering down before he looked up and continued chewing. He swallowed and took a swift gulp of orange juice, keeping his eyes averted after making quick contact with Alfred's.
He stabbed another piece of a syrup soaked pancake and shoved it into his mouth, the size a bit too big for he began flinching forward, his eyes watering up as he tried to swallow the piece. Alfred jumped up and rushed over to Arthur's side, to tap his back a bit as he raised the glass near Arthur's face.
"Calm down and drink some," Alfred commanded in a worrisome tone. Without arguing Arthur took the cup with both of his hands, one clasping over Alfred's and gulped half of the glass down, his adam's apple bobbing up and down after each gulp. He then lowered the glass, releasing a sigh of relief when his lips parted open to breath again. Alfred also sighed with relief, but only momentarily.
He noticed the placement of both of his hands, stiffening as he felt his whole body heat up, his chest vibrating with a feeling he had rarely felt. It felt uncontrollable. He pulled his hand back from under Arthur's subtle grasp, starting him, before Alfred jumped back, away from Arthur.
Arthur stared a bit stunned, but quickly returned to looking at the half eaten stack of pancakes. Alfred stiffly walked back over to his seat, his chest thumping as he sat down. He closed his eyes tightly, his mind in a confused state of panic and excitement as he thought joyously on how such a little contact could set so much off. His lips suckered into a smile as he raised his fork to eat more pancakes.
Arthur felt humiliated. He didn't want Mr. Jones to be here in the first place, and he absolutely did not wish he saw and helped him in such a weak state. Arthur felt useless and a bit pathetic, after showing a horrible blunder on his part. After shaming himself for a bit he looked up to Alfred, who happily munched on his share of dinner, like a child. Kinda like, Peter-
Arthur shook his head lightly and returned back to eating. He needed to get Peter out of his mind, he needed to forget about him for now. Because, because…
There was nothing he could do for him now.
After he lost it all.
Arthur unconsciously pulled the comforter tighter around himself, the sudden strange movement catching Alfred's eye. He looked up at Arthur, noticing the other's eyes, dull. Something in his chest tugged painfully at his heart.
Arthur lowered the fork onto the plate, raising his knees up to his face to bury his head, himself, away from the light, into the soft unreachable depths of the comforter.
Alfred watched as the other hugged his knees, the mob of hair scattered everywhere in a mess, like always. He opened his mouth to say something, to reach out to him, until he noticed how actually far away he was. Too far away. The distance was something the American couldn't easily jump, as he did for most people. To connect a path, a path leading the both together. He clenched the fork tightly and bit his lip as he looked down at his plate, defeated.
The hero couldn't save his prince, again.
Alfred quickly gobbled down the flavorless carbohydrate, taking both his and Arthur's plate up to the sink. He assumed he was finished. He then started washing the dishes, which seemed to take both long and short amount of time. Not enough time to spend with Arthur, and too much time spent in silent. Alfred dug through the cabinets and drawers for saran wrap, to save the leftovers for Arthur if he got hungry. But he knew he wasn't going to eat unless forced too. Today proved it to him.
He opened the fridge, easily finding a spot because lack of food in the shelves. He shoved the plate in, creating a slight tink noise with something next to it. Alfred pushed the plate to the side to see what caused the noise, a bit surprised to see a certain pot that he may or may not have used the day before. All he knew was that it wasn't there the day before when he was snooping around to find more about Arthur Kirkland.
It didn't take long for Alfred to finish. To have all of the plates stacked in their original spots and the silverware placed in their specific spots. He turned around to see Arthur, the comforter making a very steady pace down his shoulders. But before they could fall down enough, Arthur grabbed and pulled them even high, this time making sure that only tiny tufts of his hair showed.
Alfred patted his pants with his hands, drying them off as he debated what to do. He looked down at his watch, and quickly glanced out the window, the outside world almost entirely black. He concluded that he should head home.
When he went to the bathroom to find the clothes he originally changed out of, he discovered they were gone, leaving him a bit puzzled in where he may have placed it. He went to his bag to see if he left it there, finding only a slightly damp backpack along with his sneakers. Alfred began thinking, wondering if maybe he left it somewhere he forgot or maybe, just maybe, there were some ghost lurking around in this apartment. He shivered to that thought even though he knew it was ridiculous.
All of a sudden a beeping noise emitted from down the hallway, startling Alfred as he frantically spun around. He looked over to Arthur, wondering if he should ask him about the beeping, finding him still huddled up in the chair. In the end he decided to go look for the source on his own.
Alfred was able to track the beeping noise to the room where the laundry was done, the mystery of the missing clothes quickly solved. He opened the door of the dryer, to find a fresh, warm set of clothes the American wore when he came here earlier today. Alfred felt himself smile.
He quickly changed, his body literally enveloping in warmth as he hugged his jacket, smelling a bit sweet. Alfred flung his coat lightly over his shoulders as he held onto a neatly folded pile of the clothes he fortunately got to use, going back to give it to Arthur. He decided to leave it on the table.
He looked down at Arthur one more time, the Briton not moving a single bit. He turned around to walk out the kitchen, the words, "good night," barely making it out.
The door was softly closed behind Alfred as he left Arthur back alone, the only source of light being the kitchen light gloomly lighting down on Arthur.
Alfred took in a deep breath, his lungs chilling a bit as he admired the weather right now. Damp, moist, humid, but no rain. He took a step, starting his long journey back to his apartment.
Puddles littered the pavement, a few cars driving by slowly, its headlights illuminating Alfred's back. His socks were now becoming wet, the water remaining from his shoes seeping into the sock during every step. Alfred shoved his hands into his pocket, slouching a bit as he squinted to see the road more clearly, even though he had glasses. Surrounding him was just a dull neighborhood, the occasional dog running up to Alfred to only be stopped by a fence or a leash. So he decided to look up at the sky.
Alfred's eyes widened as he admired what he would consider a rare sight, his eye catching every gleam the stars that were billions of miles away were sending. He released a puff of air from amazement, turning his head for the full view of the dotted sky. A large smile spread across his face as he began looking forward to the next day.
And maybe one day, one day, Alfred thought, that he and Arthur could both look at these stars, together.
OOOOOOOOOOO
Alfred never stopped coming. The next day was just a cloudy day and Alfred appeared with the ingredients of macaroni and cheese. Their conversation went nowhere and the day ended with Arthur leaving to go to his room.
The day after that Alfred came with the ingredients for chicken noodle soup. Arthur couldn't fathom why he was still coming, but he gave up, letting Alfred do anything we wanted. The day ended with Arthur bringing his dishes to the sink.
That next day Alfred heated up leftovers from the day before and the day ended with Arthur leaving the kitchen, mumbling "good night".
The next day Alfred came and had hotdogs and Arthur staggered behind Alfred before he left to go back home.
That next day Alfred brought some McDonalds, earning a little scowl and complaint from Arthur.
And that next day Alfred made eggs, and Arthur helped him with the dishes.
The week passed rather quickly for Alfred. He was thinking more about what he should make for dinner for him and Arthur, causing himself to get yelled at by his boss for slacking, day dreaming when he should have been doing his assigned job. He didn't mind though, he just wanted to go to Arthur.
Today's shift ended later than he expected, much much later. The moon was constantly being covered by clouds that were moving in a fast pace, his shadow appearing and disappearing as he walked to the apartment building. His feet ached a bit as he looked up at the building, happy to know he finally made it.
He quickly skipped up to the fourth floor and knocked on the door, anxiously looking around as he waited for Arthur to open the door. There was a clattering noise from the other side, bewildering Alfred as he became more and more impatient. The door finally opened.
"Mr. Jones! I thought you wouldn't come today!" A voiced yelled, shocking Alfred. Arthur leaned on the door knob towards Alfred, a worried yet relieved expression in his face. A childish smile appeared before he grabbed onto Alfred's hand and began frantically trying to pulling him inside, only to be able move him a tiny bit. Alfred was part of a football team when he was in high school, and he was proud to say he got into varsity. But football was more of a hobby rather than a career choice and ended up aiming for engineering, to invent new stuff. He was happy he followed this path, even when many told him he could have gone far in life if he followed his talent, for he was able to meet Arthur.
Arthur looked up at Alfred, puffing his cheeks up in frustration. Alfred looked at him with wide eyes, his face burning up from recognizing how adorable Arthur looked, suddenly pulling his arm away from Arthur's grasp and raised it to cover the bottom half of his face. Arthur stared up at him in confusion before he gave up and decided to go back inside.
Arthur's foot made a slit tapping sound as he jogged sloppily back to the kitchen after the moment he could not comprehend. Alfred kept staring away for a while, hoping that the air was helping him cool down his body after that sudden reaction. When he thought it was safe enough he entered the apartment, wondering what he should expect to happen.
When Alfred walked into the kitchen, Arthur was taking a big gulp of a drink. Alfred cautiously walked to the opposite side of where Arthur was sitting, watching him as he slowly lowered himself into the seat. Arthur's mouth made a sound when breaking contact with the bottle, and raised the hand to Alfred, his head slightly bobbing up and down as he kept his face looking at the ground.
Alfred hesitated about taking the bottle for a swig, pointing out all of the pros and cons to the idea. But before he was able to come down with a conclusion, Arthur's head flung up, revealing a wide grin, his eyes scrunched up until they were shut. Alfred quickly grabbed the bottle and paused again before taking a big gulp.
He lightly placed the bottle down onto the table, grimacing a bit from the burning sensation in his throat. The bottle was quickly taken away by Arthur, for another swig as Alfred stared in amazement on how much the boy could drink. Arthur slowly lowered the bottle, swinging it lightly back and forth to emphasize the fact that there was nothing left from the lack of sound. He then got up to go to one of the cabinets, pulling out another bottle before placing the empty one next to another empty bottle.
Alfred kept watching Arthur as he dug out a bottle opener and popped the bottle open, the bent metal top landing on the counter. Alfred knew this wasn't going to end well. Nothing ended well with alcohol and Alfred spoke from experience. His parents tended to drink when they got too stressed out and he had been to multiple parties when he was high school as well as some since he came to college. And they all ended in disaster.
Arthur raised the bottle to his lips for another swig, and as if reading Alfred's mind, he lowered the bottle back down to the table slowly. Alfred watched, not sure what to expect as Arthur opened his mouth.
"Let's play a game!" Alfred gazed at him in confusion. Arthur just smiled back, making it seem like a stupid joke. Alfred could tell the smile was there just to make Alfred feel reassured that Arthur was fine.
"Like, what?" Alfred asked curiously. Arthur hadn't really shown him anything, hadn't really done anything with Alfred at all in the past week. And now he was doing this, whatever this was called. Alfred was beyond amused on how much this boy could surprise him.
"Let's ask each other questions," Arthur quietly said to him, leaning forward and whispering as if they were sharing top secret information. Alfred also leaned forward, glancing to his left and right before he said, "what type of questions?"
Arthur unconsciously let out some giggles and leaned back in his chair to get a full view of Alfred. It was a shame that he just noticed the attractive features of Alfred when he was drunk.
"Why are you so attractive-?" He asked sloppily, his hand flopping back and forth for fun. Alfred became petrified for a moment as he registered what he was saying, what he meant. He felt flattered, overjoyed, but quickly dismissed these feelings for the only cause of them was because someone was drunk. When he tunned back into the outside world, he noticed that Arthur was talking, or may have been talking the whole time.
"You even look good in glasses, like amazing!" Alfred felt himself blush. "Everything about your face is perfect. Tanned nicely, perfect complexion, and you got muscles!" Arthur continued on, his hand placed on the tip of his chin as he inspected Alfred. Alfred placed both of his hands into his lap, moving his face away from Arthur as he avoided his admiring glances. His face was becoming a boiled lobster, both the color and the temperature.
"And look at me on the other hand," Arthur began saying, catching Alfred's attention. Arthur was now looking at himself as he kept on talking, his arms raised up to get a clear full view of himself. "I'm just thin, scrawny, and tiny. No one wants that in a man," he said, the last part becoming more of a mumble. "Plus I have these…" Arthur raised his hand up to his face to gently touch his eyebrows, the big big eyebrows.
That's not true! Screamed in Alfred's mind. He wanted to ramble on and on about everything that shinned to Alfred. It wasn't just his looks that made Alfred stop and stare but his personality was something Alfred admired. He opened his mouth, to go against Arthur's harsh words to himself, only for his vocal cords to fail on him. For he didn't want to raise any suspicion.
"But if I was a girl, I'd probably most definitely be head over heels for you!" Alfred's eyes widened in shock as he watched Arthur. We can be, he wanted to say. We can be together!
"Now you're turn," Arthur said, taking in a sip of the drink. There were many things he wanted to ask him, many things he knew Arthur would probably refuse to answer. Even though he was drunk, Alfred knew he wouldn't tell someone a secret that important, especially to someone who he only started talking to a week before.
"Are you feeling better?" Alfred questioned, leaning on one of his hands as he waited for Arthur's reaction. "Better then ever!" He replied back excitedly as he slid the bottle toward Alfred. He took a small sip, smiling as he watched Arthur think up a new question.
"Why is you hair always sticking up?" He asked, a frequently asked question to Alfred. Alfred raised his free hand and touched the top of the cowlick, his fingers gliding across the soft hair. "I'm not so sure but I've always had this. No matter what I do the cowlick always stays up. Unless I get it wet or use enough gel though"
Arthur still looked at Alfred confused, his hands unconsciously making a motion that Alfred guessed meant that the Briton wanted to touch it. Alfred stood up from his chair and walked over to Arthur, kneeling as he said, "go ahead, touch it."
Arthur hesitated at first, his hand shaking for a decision before touching the cowlick. His eyes widened as he felt the hair, sliding his hand back and forth on the strand. Before he knew it he raised his other hand and started to touch Alfred's hair, startling him as he touch, felt, and soothed his golden locks. Arthur continued to stare in awe at his hair.
"Your hair is even perfect too," he whispered, making Alfred's hair into a mess, even though he didn't mind. He then took his hands off of Alfred's head, the hair slowly falling back to place. Arthur lowered his head a bit as he said, "feel mine, it's nothing as amazing as yours."
Alfred was hesitated to touch the other's hair as well, but gently placed a hand down, twisting the blond hair between his fingers. The other hand joined, playing around with his soft, silk like hair that he concluded he really liked.
But before Alfred had the chance to continue admiring and playing with Arthur's hair something fell into his chest, the head of Arthur moving toward him as well. Alfred stiffened once again.
"Your so waaaaarm," Arthur murmured while Alfred began frantically searching through his mind on what to do. Arthur tightened his grip around Alfred, burying himself deeper into his chest. Alfred on the other hand was panicking, his face bursting with even more heat to the point you might as well saw steam coming out of his ears. Alfred started to worry, worry that Arthur would be able to hear the frantic beating of his heart that wouldn't calm down for a second. Thumping noises became audible in Alfred's ears, the blood pumping through his body as he took in quick intakes of air.
The hand that was wrapped around Alfred loosened and came undone, finding a new place on Alfred's body that shocked him out of his mind. He began to laugh uncontrollably as something tickled him, looking down at Arthur who was looking up at him, his cheeks tinted red and a smile on his face from the drink.
"Stop!" Alfred barely managed to say as he continued to laugh, forgetting about his last predicament. He jumped away from Arthur, finally stopping the terrifying nightmare from the tickle monster until Arthur jumped up from his seat and began chasing after Alfred. They chased each other around, dodging around the couch and table, trying with everything he had to get away from Arthur. But in the end his efforts became futile as he was pushed onto the couch from the armrest side, Arthur falling down on top of Alfred on the couch.
Arthur quickly resumed to tickling Alfred whose laugh filled the room. He barely managed to say out the words, "no" and "please stop", only for Arthur to ignore. Alfred was exactly like a child, laughing gleefully as he was bathed by someone's attention. Just like someone Arthur knew, very well.
The tickling stopped, Alfred glad that Arthur was returning back to normal. He breathed, his ribs aching a bit from the pressure created when laughing, before something fisted Alfred's shirt. Surprised and confused, Alfred look down at Arthur who was still on top of him, his shirt slowly getting damp.
"Oh, uh, Ar-" Alfred tried to say as he tried to push himself up, only for it to die out after hearing a couple of sniffles emitting from Arthur, his shirt being pulled on even more.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I'm so sorry….I'm sorry…"
A sob broke out, a sob that Arthur had been trying to hold in for so long. Alfred hesitated at first but slowly wrapped his arm around the Briton, pulling him closer. He felt like he finally made it, following the dark deep road to Arthur, who was submerged deep into the dark void, slowly chipping himself away. Now the Hero just needed to find a way to get out of there. Arthur broke down his barrier of pride as he cried, and cried, repeating the same words over and over again.
Alfred did everything he could, and held the Briton tight to his chest as he continued to wail, hoping that the pain in his heart would be willing to stop anytime soon.