It starts in late May when the rumoured English summers come but yet the sun shines dim and here, the countryside just screams dull, quiet comfort.
A little blond boy with green eyes that have lost the spark in them stands in front of a tall mahogany door. The hand on his shoulder gave him a light squeeze then it was gone like the fresh breeze that warned of the coming seasons. All that was left were the creases on an ironed polo from the pressure of the recent touch and a boy on the porch of a luxuorious estate. Arthur clutched his suitcase and stifled a cry as he tapped upon the entrance. The door opens and a woman with kind eyes saw him; she immediately kneeled down and took the poor boy into her arms, into this manor. Arthur was an orphan now.
The days just whisk by at 's Home for boys. Arthur was well adjusted and the nuns found him to be quite a gentleman amongst the rowdy resident children. He was thought to be in such good behaviour that he was recommended to room with the almost "hopeless" cases in faint chance that he might be a positive influence. So a month in, Arthur was already deemed the most likable child there and here he was, in a room with three of the most juvenile kids and that's in 9-year-old standards; Arthur was barely skimming the surface of 9, he just turned 8 recently.
He was still alone though. He was so indifferent. Perhaps it's because he got a taste of family whereas most of the others were abandoned since birth. That's what the older albino boy who was rooming with him said; the boy named Gilbert had stated that he was left here since he was an infant because of his "too awesome" features. Arthur cringed at him though. Then there was Francis. Absolutely gorgeous for a young boy and the Frenchie was unashamed in flaunting his golden locks and fluttering his girlish eyelashes, Arthur detested him the most. That boy was also abandoned. His mother was a deplorable "bed-hopper" and the father was a reputable politician so to avoid much scandal, Francis was hefted away as soon as he was born to the outskirts of England. Then there was Antonio.
Antonio was the one among the three who would give him the time of day. The other green-eyed boy would be playing pirates with him after their lessons. Antonio never teased him about the fact that the little Briton would prefer to read books than play football with the others or that he would opt to go on strolls along the gardens than stay in to play games. Also, the Spanish boy did not join in the constant bullying of Arthur due to the fact he got some time with his parents as well. To the blonde's knowledge, Antonio's parents died before the little Spaniard could remember anything.
"Hey Toni." Arthur said as he looked up from the book he was currently reading. It was a simplified version of Shakespeare's Othello, nothing of astounding relevance for an 8-year old to be reading in a perfect afternoon.
"Hmm~?" The other responded, lifting his drowsed face from the pillow he was drooling from, Arthur stifled a laugh and coughed,
"Why do you think people are like this?" He points a skinny pale finger at the cover where a man looking like he was going insane was depicted.
Antonio glanced at the cover before making sounds that seemed to point out the fact that he was thinking, quite out loud as well.
"Maybe it's because they ran out of tomatoes! I would go muy loco if I didn't get my fix of tomatoes!" The Spanish boy beamed. Arthur laughed in response which made Antonio get up, looking somewhat offended,
"Hey! I'm telling the truth, Arthuro~! It's a honest opinion!" He pouted and did a defiant pose, which was countered by his sleep shirt (it was practically a dress). Arthur couldn't help but laugh some more.
"But Anthony, y-you're so f-fu-funny!"
"Arthur!" Antonio was about to blurt out a retort but seeing the other laughing his heart out because of these simple things made him feel happier too. Antonio joined in the laughter of the young Brit.
They both calmed down after a while, "Hey Arthur, why is the man on the cover crazy?" The older of the two settled back on his floor mattress, getting ready to sleep again.
"He's being fed a lot of lies, I think anyone would go crazy if you're always being lied to." Arthur frowned as he traced the spine of the book with his fingers. Antonio yawned.
"That's sad. Even his amigos lied to him?"
"Ah, no but something else happened…"
"Well! There had to someone who stuck with him 'til the end, si?" Antonio stretched and was on the verge of drowsing off to siesta land.
"Desdemona but she-" Arthur looked down on his book again with pitiful green eyes, Antonio looked at him when he stayed silent for too long.
"Arthur! Why are you so sad? It's just a book!"
"B-but this kind of thing can happen to anyone," he wearily placed the paperback on the windowsill, which he sat upon.
Antonio sighed and got up to sit beside his troubled friend. He patted Arthur's nest of messy blond hair, "then I'll be your Desdemona! The person who sticks to you 'til the end, si? That way if you go crazy, you won't be so sad! Nothing is that sad when you know you're not alone.."
Arthur's cheeks flushed ferociously and he shoved the Spaniard a bit. "You're talking while you're half-asleep, Toni! Go back to your si-thing!"
"Siesta!"
"W-whatever!"
And as the seasons change, everything else does as well. Not completely though, the summer showers still come but that's okay, it was nice to have some sunshine with a little rain.
A boy edging closer to his adolescence sits on a bench hidden amongst the roses in his secret garden inspired by one of the many books he's read. He smiles as he thumbs through the pages of another novel. He inhaled and smelled spring, it was coming and these roses would bloom to their fullest. He felt enlightenment surge through his body. Arthur opened his book and began to read. It was "Watership Down" by Richard Adams, quite a peculiar tale with the most interesting of heroes; he somehow relates to a certain bunny who feels lost and lonely yet surrounded by all the other bunnies. He sighed when he finished another quarter of it and realized he was due to the dinner hall in a few minutes. Arthur closed his book then felt it's worn out cover with much affection. Arthur was still an orphan but he was a happy one at that.
First thing that he noticed when he got to the hall was that Gilbert was missing again. The albino had gotten in touch with his inner rebel and insisted on staying hours out in the night then returning about 30 minutes to an hour past curfew. Arthur snorted at how Gilbert thought that it made him so 'awesome', Francis saw him and gestured for him to sit next to him. Arthur hates to admit it but the guy grew up pretty and was relieved when they settled their differences. The pair of them is now the closest of dysfunctional friends. Of course, there was still Antonio.
They no longer played pirates as much but they would sit together and just manage to talk about the silliest to the most important of things for hours with no end. Arthur had caved more into his books and he would run off to be alone a lot of times but Antonio would scope him out and just keep him company until the blond would finally break and talk to him. It was that sort of relationship that's tittering between dispute and refuge. Arthur made Francis scoot over so that he could sit beside the seemingly dejected Spanish boy.
"What's the matter with you?" Arthur enquired as he tapped the book he was holding onto the other's head.
"Adoption day is tomorrow, mi amigo." Antonio sighed as he carelessly played with the fork set up for him.
"So?" A thick blond eyebrow quirked in response as Arthur sat down and looked at the set up cutlery plus empty plate now in front of him.
"Well, for starters, nobody wants to adopt kids who are about as old as us," Francis butted in as he placed a napkin gently on his lap, exuding some mysterious type of allure as he did.
"Because we're fifteen! One more year until we're sort of technically legal!" An albino suddenly joined in the conversation, bouncing onto the empty seat at the Antonio's other side.
"But you still can, Arthuro. You're about thirteen but you look like you're twelve! Actually, someone might mistake you for an eight year old!" Antonio cooed and teased as Arthur huffed at the statement, careful not to lash out at the three now laughing boys.
Then dinner was served and the conversation was left to that. Little did the boys know that one of Arthur's worst nightmares would revisit him the next day and just whisk him away in a blink. Perhaps it was the power of suggestion? Or simply because fate just loved to play games like that.
A/N: When Gil said technically legal is because of England's age of consent thing. To my knowledge, when you're 16 there, you can have get a job (as long as it isn't in a pub/bar), have intercourse, join the army, get married (w/ parents' consent), get civil partnership (also w/ parents' consent), and well, basically you get the gist of it. Oh, you're allowed to drink-ish as well. Just correct me if I'm wrong. Hehe.