He may never understand what got into that boy (his boy; his lovely, darling, charming boy). Ah, no that is most defiantly not right. His boy is not longer a boy, but a man; his lovely, darling, charming man.

The one who stole his old, lonely, heart at one time he forgot he had. With sunshine smiles, whose eyes held the sky (with diamonds) and he could conquer his world so easily (across the universe) so easily it was almost laughable.

So damn laughable at how easily Arthur found himself falling, sinking, and unable to get back up. Centuries, decades, years, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes, seconds spent trying to stop from drowning. He thought, no believes, so long – so, so long – that he would never be loved in return. It was foolish to continue on (hide inside my loneliness; I don't care what they say. I won't stay in a world without love).

Drunken clamor, lonely nights, tears so endless he always wondered when the well would dry. But then, he surmised, it was all the affects of drowning.

It all came crashing in on him, much to his surprise – and he thought he could never be surprised again; wars and revolutions (We all want to change the world), trenches and London torn in bits and halves. In the middle of an argument, heated and pointless yet he hung onto every moment he could have. What it was about he couldn't remember, he never kept track; it's all the same in the end (You say "Yes", I say "No". You say "Stop", I say "Go, go, go") .

A frustrated, aggravated sound came deep from his throat, and Arthur didn't know what to make of it.

"This—England I don't think I can go on like this with you anymore." He tells. And Arthur glares and wrinkles his nose, about to demand what the bloody hell he is going on about – because it is him who cannot go on you damnably selfish arrogant –(Oh please, say to me, you'll let me be your man.)

The words he wants to say all die out and Arthur is confused and frozen yet electrified at the same time – pins and prickles all across his skin. Being forced into a sudden embrace affects him more than he would ever rather admit. Arms, strong, strong, strong, refused to let him go as he struggled, struggled, struggled. "What are you doing you-?"

Gazing blue eyes stopped him, words cut short, dying once again. Arthur could feel his heart pound, ram, against his chest he unconsciously counted -five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten-

"I love you."

All the time in the world stopped, as Arthur saw pieces to a shapeless puzzle fit together rapidly all at once he forgot to breath (I am crying, I am crying). So blunt this man was, everything made no sense yet at the same time is made all the sense in the world; Arthur fell deeper still. And suddenly (I'm not half the man I used to be) he didn't mind drowning anymore.

I love you, 'cause you tell me things I want to know.

And it's true that it really goes to show, that I know

That I, I, I, I should never, never be blue.

Others noticed the sudden change right away (everywhere, people stare). It wasn't until Francis pointed it out, that he had been all smiles from beginning to end in their dreary meeting. Of course Arthur scoffed and denied the painfully obvious, though he admitted inside himself it was hard to keep his lips from tugging upward when he had a hand to hold under the table. (When I touch you I feel happy inside. It's such a feeling that my love, I can't hide, I can't hide, I can't hide).

Sometimes it was hard to believe they were still the same- bickering, disagreeing, yelling and "old man, old man, old man" – "Bloody idiot, bloody idiot, bloody idiot". Yet Arthur could still be greeted with the look of love, love, love and only his, his, his etched on the face of the one just for him, him, him. The more he loves the more he drowns, and his vision is constantly bombarded with myriads of colors whenever they share a kiss (with love from me to you, to you, to you). Arthur is certain the well should dry up sometime soon.

Now you're mine, my happiness still makes me cry.

And in time, you'll understand the reason why, If I cry,

It's not because I'm sad, but you're the only love I've ever had

Now in the middle of political visits, and meetings with the just the two of them. Locked away in offices and piles, and piles of papers, he rather enjoys being bothered by the other's shenanigans (all these places have their moments).

"Com'on Artie, dance with me!"

"What are you going on about we have work to do you-!" Always interrupted, always tugged this way and that with the tide – but that's just fine (Here comes the sun, here comes the sun, and I say it's all right, it's all right). And he is once again pulled into now very familiar arms and forced – he tells himself yet denies all at once – into doing a mix of the waltz with other steps he doesn't know where they came from – but they are sweet and slow and gliding with spins and laughter and sunshine smiles (hold me, love me, hold me, love me).

I can't believe it's happened to me, I can't conceive of any more misery

Ask me why, I'll say I love you, and I'm always thinking of you.

Arthur pressed his face into the fluff of an all too worn leather jacket, not daring to let him see his red face; though he was positive his neck was just as flushed as the rest of him, and hiding did nothing but make the man chuckle. "You're utterly daft." (All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise.)

Surrounded by piles of paper work, fountain pens, buzzing cell phones and politics, Arthur was held tighter – gently, so lovingly he thought he would burst. Spin, a dip; "Well, you make me 'utterly daft'." The mock accent was horrible but Arthur silently thanked the embrace he was in (I know I just need you like I've never done before), lest his knees would melt and he would sink through the floor.

I love you, 'cause you tell me things I want to know.

And it's true that it really only goes to show, that I know,

That I, I, I, I should never, never, never be blue.

Arthur sunk himself deeper into the arms, the leather, the smell, and very being of him. Relaxing, letting himself to be immersed more as he fell even more still. Drowning deeper than he thought possible; the earth moved beneath his feet yet ceased movement all at once.

Ask me why, I'll say-

"I love you."

I'm always thinking of you.

I can't believe it's happened to me. I can't conceive of any more misery.

Movements of their unnamed dance continued, Arthur found himself being hugged, held, nuzzled in the crook of his neck and he could taste the joy radiating from the man in his arms – who held him. There was something unmistakably maddening yet fantastic at being the one to cause such emotion. "Love you too."

Ask me why, I'll say I love you. And I'm always thinking of you.