"I'll be just fine
Pretending I'm not.
I'm far from lonely and it's all that I've got."
-All That I've Got, The Used
Jump
Chapter one
"He's only a boy! He's nothing to you!" the woman begged in a pained voice.
"Oh, he's everything. He's mine," was the response.
The woman was kicked again onto the hard concrete and the man snatched something from her body—a necklace—and ran back to his car. The moonlight was heavenly and the stars were blessings. The man was corrupt and the knife was sinful. The wind whistled by sorrowful and kissed her cheek. Caressing her cheek, the boy held onto his mother.
"Mom, what's wrong?" he asked innocently with a voice that stuck her heart more than the knife.
"Alfred, everything's alright. Just know, don't go with this man. Please," she said softly in a voice cracking until it broke to shards.
"But he told me to. Why would he tell me to do something bad?" Alfred asked.
The mother shook her head. "He's a bad man. Don't go with him, please, Alfred, I- I love you. Run away."
"Oh okay! Let's go!" he grinned and ran a few feet, glancing back at his mom expectantly.
The mother, still leaning dependently against the wall, shook her head softly and her reddened eyes fell. "I can't. Go, before he comes back." And as if to prove her word, heavy footsteps sounded. "Go!" she commanded.
"C-Come with me! You will, won't you?" the boy ran back, tugging on her sleeve.
The woman wept. "I-I'll come…" she lied, "Just go head of me. Go hide."
"Count to ten—no twenty! Ready or not, you'll come seek me out!" Alfred turned, and ran again.
"You'd best be ready," she whispered and another tear fell from her cheek.
"Jump! I'll catch you!"
Meow!
Alfred spread his arms just in time to catch the falling cat. He smiled, petting its head for a moment before turning to the girl next to him.
"Thank you so much! Oh I thought I'd never get her down!" a girl babbled and hugged him tightly before releasing him and retrieving her cat.
"No problem!" Alfred smiled, bending down to be eye-level with the girl.
The girl grinned a last time and ran back to her house a few blocks away. Alfred gazed after her figure, with a somewhat content face, his eyes casting back downwards and he pushed his hands into his pockets. He sighed and turned around, walking back to his work.
He was greeted at the door the same as any other day. Alfred worked intern for a publishing company. Most days, he simply made copies and ran errands, but a job was a job. Throughout the neighborhood, Alfred was known as the man who saved cats. It was something he just had a knack for doing. It was easy enough, it made people smile, and he liked cats. It ranged all the way from saving them from trees like a moment earlier, to getting the poor creature out of a wet-concrete area.
His workplace was international, meaning most employees were from all over the world. They tended to collaborate and create books to be sold all over the globe. As long as Alfred was a help, that's all that mattered.
"Tea, Mr. Honda?" he asked with a smile to the Japanese man in a cubicle.
"That'd be nice," Kiku Honda smiled back warmly as he bowed his head and accepted the drink.
Alfred flashed another grin and turned to run into someone else.
"S-Sorry—Oh, Mr. Kirkland!"
The sandy-haired man looked up with a scowl. "Alfred," he said plainly.
"Here's your tea," Alfred smiled again, holding out a cup.
Arthur Kirkland nodded, taking the cup. "Thank you," he said curtly and pushed past him.
Alfred's gaze lingered on him longer than it should before he sighed and turned around again.
"Ah, Mr. Bonnefoy, would you like some tea?"
It was raining on the way home. Alfred was finally alone, and so he allowed himself the luxury of not having to smile. His door swung open and he stumbled into his apartment. He never did bring umbrellas with him, and so his clothes dripped onto the wood floors as the sound of squeaking shoes filled the empty apartment.
He didn't bother to lock the door, just making his way tiredly to the bathroom. He stripped off his clothes that clung to his skin and let them fall onto the tiles of the floor. He stepped into the shower, turning the water to a scorching hot temperature.
"One… Two… Three… Four…" he counted under his breath.
It was traditional.
He got out of the shower within the hour and dried himself off. The room felt cold, but it wasn't anything he wasn't used to. He didn't often eat dinner either. Alfred fell onto his bed, feeling fatigue hit him like the strike of thunder. He didn't know how much longer he could hold up, but it's best to just try. Smile, save, and make it through the day.
He fell into a dreamless sleep each night and woke to the same chilling sun. He no longer felt warmth in a handshake and he no longer felt happiness in an embrace. He spends his days saving others, when he's unstable himself. He can't stand seeing others suffer the way he does. People call him a hero.
What a joke.
The birds' songs died when the man returned. The woman hardly had the strength to look at him again. Her hand covered a wound in her side.
"Where is he? What did you do to my son?"
"He's hardly your son!" the woman argued weakly.
"He's our son. Where is he? Alfred? Alfred!" the man turned, shouting in all directions.
"Don't you dare speak his name! You don't love me, you don't love him!"
The man neared dangerously close with hysteria glinting in his eyes. He knelt by her and held her shoulders like a vice.
"Don't you tell me who I love and don't love. I love you and I love Alfred. He's mine. You're mine."
The woman spit on his face. "I am not a possession and neither is he. He isn't your son, but mine. He was born of rape not love."
"I DIDN'T RAPE YOU!" the man screamed insanely. "I LOVE YOU AND YOU'RE MINE! THAT'S HOW IT HAPPENED!"
"Y-You're hurting me," the woman choked out.
The man kept shaking her shoulders, not listening to a word she'd said. He became more violent and her head banged against the wall. Over and once more again. The color of scarlet had crept over his hands and he let go. He let go.
Time felt silent and the ground felt still.
"Celia?" he asked.
The woman lay as still as stone and her hand fell to her side. Not a breath was heard and the birds' song continued. The stars cried down on him as the sun started to peek up from behind the horizon. The moon and stars fled as the sun frowned upon the scene.
"How regretful," the sun reprimanded. "How tragic."
But the man did not hear the sun. He stood shakily and ran.
Alfred loved to draw, though he didn't look like it, though he didn't show it. The strokes calmed his nerves, no matter what it was he drew. Be it pencil or crayon or chalk or charcoal, he drew, he drew. And for times such as now, it's what he loved most.
He sat in the corner of a café, facing the wall and drawing in a small sketchbook. He had a cup of coffee, though he wasn't drinking it at the moment. He let his heart finally come out and onto the page.
He jumped when he heard a voice behind him.
"I didn't know you could draw," the voice said.
Alfred spun around quickly, eyes wide and he nearly fell out of his chair. His defenses grew back up and enveloped him.
"M-Mr. Kirkland! Nice to see you!" he said in a voice that brimmed with shock before a smile was stitched onto his face.
"No need to be so formal. Call me Arthur," said man waved his hand. "May I?" he asked, gesturing to the seat across from him.
"Go ahead," Alfred nodded.
His heart thumped loudly in his chest and he counted softly under his breath to calm himself. One… Two…
"May I see it once more? It was very nice," Arthur requested, leaning forward.
"It was nothing," Alfred said quickly and shook his head, setting the sketchbook beside him.
Arthur gave a look of disappointment but nodded. "Well I suppose it wasn't my business," he admitted.
Alfred half expected Arthur to leave after that, but he didn't. Arthur took a sip of his tea, looking somewhat off to the side. Alfred would have given the world to read his mind.
"What are you drinking?" Alfred asked softly to pass the time.
"Earl Grey," Arthur responded, taking another sip.
"Tea's never been my thing," Alfred laughed, "Coffee is much better."
Arthur blinked up at him, noting his static-like laughter. "Everyone has their preferences," he said indifferently.
And the air fell around their ankles. Arthur was difficult to talk to, Alfred thought, and yet he still sat by him. Why did he even sit by him? There were many other seats.
"Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked somewhat cautiously.
Arthur glanced up from behind his cup. "Nothing that I know of."
Of course. Alfred looked away awkwardly. He looked over at Arthur whom seemed to be minding his own business now, taking out some manuscripts to proofread. Alfred still didn't know why he was doing this.
"I've got to get going," Alfred said cheerily and collected his things. "Nice to run into you here!"
With that he stood and waved. When he was nearly to the exit, he heard Arthur speak again.
"And Alfred!" he called after him.
Alfred turned, curiously. "Yeah?"
"Don't forget to smile," he said casually, standing as well and drinking another sip of his tea.
Alfred laughed. "But I am!"
Arthur shook his head, placing hand on his shoulder. "No you're not."
He exited the café first with the jingling of a bell hanging over the door.
Thank you for reading OwO I'll be continuing this for a while I think/hope XD I promise later chapters will be longer, beginnings are difficult ;-; I hope you liked it! Feel free to review: I love feedback, good or bad. It makes me better.