The memory carries me along.
It carries me past the comfortable, more recent memories, and pulls me into the bittersweet memories of my childhood.
"Arthur! Arthur!"
A fair-haired toddler climbed up the steps of a small cottage.
"Arthuuuuuuuuuur!"
He ran through the cottage, pausing to sniff around in the kitchen, before bursting into the back garden, where a blonde child lay asleep on the grass.
"Found you, Arthur!" he squealed, jumping on the blonde boy.
"Bloody hell, Alfred! Get off me!"
Alfred pouted. "But Arthuuuuur" he whined "I'm so booooooooored! Play with me!"
Arthur grimaced. "Where are your parents? Can't you play with them?"
"They said that they were busy so I should go over to your house and play, and I can't find your parents, so I have to play with you" explained Alfred, gently bouncing on the older boy's stomach. "So let's play a game!"
Arthur rolled his eyes and gave in. "Fine, but don't bother me. And for God's sake, keep your voice down".
"Okaaay!" Alfred sang.
"I said, keep your voice down, Alfred!"
"But I am! Look at me! I'm talking quietly!"
"…Alfred…"
"Arthuuuuur! You prooooomised me!" Alfred bounced harder.
"Fine! Fine! I'll play a game with you! Just stop bouncing on me!"
The memory carries me along, relentlessly pushing me further, into times I would rather stay forgotten.
Alfred stared at the sandy-haired teenager in his doorway.
"What?"
Arthur shifted nervously.
"I'm, um, I'm leaving. For England. You know, the transfer program."
Alfred glared. "And what, you weren't gonna tell me? You were just gonna disappear?"
"I wanted to tell you… but I… kind of never got around to it." Arthur stared at the ground. "But," he added, eagerly looking up at Alfred, "it's only for a year. You won't even notice I'm gone."
"Arthur. It's a year. You'll be gone for a year. Of course I'll notice. And what if you end up staying?"
"You have lots of other friends. And I'll write. I probably won't stay, either."
"Whatever."
Arthur bit his lip and edged out of the room. "Well… I, er, guess I should go now… Bye."
Arthur never came back. He never wrote, either.
Arthur was in the paper the other day, for some sort of business achievement. Alfred doesn't want to care, but he does. He wants to move on, to be the charismatic leader he was before, but he can't, and he doesn't know why.
And in the privacy of his apartment, as the rain pours down, the memories carry him away.
Okay. So. Yes, there is a story behind this. It was something I wrote for the SC. Yes, you read that correctly. I wrote fanfiction for the School Certificate. I was so out of it that day I think the sky could have been fluoro green and swirly and I wouldn't have noticed. Which is not exactly that much worse than my normal state of mind, but you get the picture. Anyway, review! No, seriously. I need you guys to get me to get my lazy arse moving and working on that Twilight parody fic I started a year ago.