A/N: Poem by Sheila Kornelson. I wrote this for fun, and it really has been fun to write (which, of course, means that EVERYONE WILL HATE IT IYIYI). I've never written Arthur or Alfred before, so forgive me for making them so OOC. I'll get better at it eventually (if I decide to keep writing them, haha), I promise.
ALSO THIS UN-BETA'D SO THERE WILL BE THINGS WRONG WITH IT, BUT MY FRIEND, MEL, IS IMPATIENT AND THEREFORE... HELLO MEL. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?
...
Happy Birthday Artie!
I didn't know love could be this way.
Or maybe I never knew love until I loved you.
Whichever it is, it's a feeling I've never before felt
and I don't think I could ever feel it with any other human being.
I want to breathe it in, I can't get close enough to it,
it draws me, lifts me up, possesses me
and I don't want to remember what it's like to be without it.
YOUR HERO,
Alfred
P.S.: I hope you don't mind serenades!
...
Name: ALFRED F. JONES
THE AWESOME HERO
...
INTRODUCTION
Do you remember giving this to me? It was a spontaneous gift, and completely out of nowhere. You just thrust it into my hands and said I better write in it or else. I'm sure you're glad that I really did write in it; I hope you'll be even gladder when you read it in its entirety. I'll admit, it's rocky and inconsistent, but when have I ever become consistent (other than my love of hamburgers, freedom, and being a hero)? You're just lucky I have amazing memory, or I wouldn't be able to remember half the things I put in here.
You're beginning to know what this is, aren't you? This chronicles the weeks in which I realized my feelings for you, where hopefully you will see why I sort of exploded at you that night. I've been saving it for your birthday. It's tomorrow right now; I'll wrap it up as well as I can, and even put a bow on it. I just want you to know that you shouldn't judge me for what I've put here, so don't you dare tell me I use the word 'hero' too much in the beginning or get annoyed or anything, which I know you will. This would be a wonderful story, anyway, you know; there's even character development, which I know you love.
You're the best thing that ever happened to me. Don't forget that.
(Also, you probably shouldn't drink tea while reading this. I don't want it to stain the pages.)
...
Friday
10:17 pm
OKAY
SO
UM...
This is... my epic journal of HEROICNESS! It's sort of girly―has a lock and everything―but my best friend gave it to me, so I can't complain OR not write in it, because that would be rude. Speaking of my best friend... Just watch, Arthur! I'm going to help solve a super awesome crime with this thing, and I'll be a real HERO! At least, a better one than I am now, though that's CLEARLY impossible, as I am the best hero EVER. Arthur, this totally grumpy Briton who is also my best friend (not that I'd admit it to his face), is all, "Alfred, you aren't a bloody hero," but I'm all, "Dude yes I am." He has no faith in me, I swear.
Anyway, I digress!
SO.
I should probably introduce myself.
My name is Alfred F. Jones, aka your HERO! I save damsels in distress and cats in trees and defenseless women from perverted Frenchmen and equally vulnerable people from crazy Russian clutches! I am the best hero of ALL TIME! ("Yo, I'mma let you finish, but Alfred F. Jones is the best hero of all time," Kanye will interrupt Taylor Swift again one day to say. I WILL BE RECOGNIZED INTERNATIONALLY FOR MY DEEDS.)
I'm seventeen right now, but I'm gonna be eighteen on July 4th (legal, baby!). Isn't that awesome? I'm the most patriotic guy you'll ever meet, and my birthday falls on our independence day. You can't get much more American than that!
I go to school at Hetalia High. It's THE most prestigious school you'll ever hear of. Only one student from each country is selected. The headmaster is called Rome; the vice is Germania. They don't look really old, but they must be. Rome's grandchildren attend the school, which is kind of... redundant, since they're both Italian. "THEY'RE MY GRANDCHILDREN," Rome says everytime someone dares to ask about it. "OF COURSE THEY ARE BOTH GOING TO ATTEND MY SCHOOL. IS IT A CRIME TO BE ITALIAN NOW? ARE YOU RACIST AGAINST ITALIANS? I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW SOME OF MY BLOOD IS COURSING THROUGH YOUR VEINS, CHILD." Okay, so I MAY have exaggerated a bit, but he really does say something like that! He insists that they are different kinds of Italian (how that works out, I don't know).
I have two best friends: Kiku Honda (it sounds better when it's said the Eastern way, which is Honda Kiku) and Arthur Kirkland. Kiku is full-blooded Japanese and is really quiet. He ends up being the mediator a lot. He plays video games with me, which is TOTALLY AWESOMEEEE. He's really nice and watches scary movies with me, a feat that apparently deserves a medal, since Arthur congratulates him every time we watch one together. Arthur comes in at the end, anyway, just in time for me to scream and throw a pillow at him, and then he'll huff about it but comfort me through... I MEAN, tell me nice stories. I think he actually sang me to sleep once.
ANYWAY. Kiku is totally awesome! He doesn't mind me bursting out in song (O SAY CAN YOU SEE BY THE DAWN'S EARLY LIIIIGHT), and he's like the yin to my yang, or am I the yang to his yin? What does that even mean, anyway? Er, well... He's the ketchup to my hamburger! Yes! Everyone has to have ketchup with their burger, or it's just not complete!
Arthur, on the other hand, is a total dick to me (a total BRITISH dick, which makes the world of difference). He is, however, the meat on the hamburger. He's been my friend for as long as I can remember; he told me once that I had to choose between him and Francis (that perverted Frenchman I have to protect girls from), and, because he was crying about not being able to compete with Francis's cooking (what the hell), I chose him.
I DO NOT REMEMBER THIS.
But hey, whatever. It's rare for Arthur to ever admit he cried. In Arthur-speech, it means "I AM FOREVER INDEBTED TO YOU, O DARLING SUNSHINE." He still totally owes me.
(HOLY SHIT MY HAND HURTS. WHY AM I WRITING SO MUCH WHYYYY. WHY AM I DOING THIS TO MYSELF ARGHH)
ANYWAY... I have a lot of memories with Artie! We're, like, closer than brothers, almost. He takes my jeans, I take his shirts... We take everything from each other, actually. Once, he walked right in and dug through my drawers while I was taking a shower, and I didn't even notice until he called out, "Hey, Alfred, where are those dark-washed straight-legs you had?" It was freaky as hell, man. I might have screamed, but that's irrelevent. It's not like he teases me about it every chance he gets. HAHA. NOPE.
He's a pretty good guy. My mom was sick for a week when I was thirteen, so she couldn't make us food, and I can't really cook that well, and neither can my brother (who claims his birthday is two days before mine, but we know better), and my dad is at work by the time we wake up. He didn't want to take any days off, since he loves his job and would come home early every day, anyway, so Arthur came in every day and cooked for us. It was shit, of course, so I packed me and Mattie's lunches (Mattie is my bro) and just let Artie make us breakfast. By the third day, he just carried down two plates of stuff his mom made, since he noticed our expressions when we forced down whatever crap he gave us, and let me tell you, Mrs. Kirkland is a MUCH better cook than Arthur.
OH DAMMIT
WHY
DID THIS
TURN INTO SHIT ABOUT ARTHUR
SCREW ARTIE
THIS IS ABOUT ME TONIGHT!
...
IN A FEW MINUTES. LET ME GET COKE.
11:47 pm
Okay, I'm back! I had to change out of these pants, too, because they were digging into my hips and sort of tight around my vital regions (ohman I am so funny). Just how tight does Artie like his pants? Oh, I forgot to mention―yeah, I was wearing his shit. WE'RE THAT COOL.
WE COULD BE HEROES
FOREVER AND EVER
WE COULD BE HEROES
FOREVER AND EVER
WE COULD BE HEROES
JUST BECAUSE I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOUUUU
God, gotta love that song! It's "Elephant Love Medley" by Nicole Kidman and Ewan McGregor. Artie was listening to this song today after his daily Beatles, so he's got me listening to it, too. It's almost as addicting as hamburgers.
DAMMIT, Arthur.
I'd walk over to his dorm room (oh yeah we do live in dorms; we can go home on weekends, if we live close enough) to punch him or something, but that require putting pants on, so I'll wait until tomorrow. Why must my life revolve around him? Goddammit.
OKAY, ANYWAY.
12:02 am
Mattie just knocked on my door.
"COME IN," I yell extra slowly so I can write this.
He's walking in. He looks surprised to see me on my bed. It's probably because I don't have pants on. He's such a prude. "I heard you cursing Arthur," he says, leaning against the door. He looked like he didn't want to step foot in my (relatively clean) room. "What did he do?"
Yeah, Matthew holds some sort of weird affection for Arthur. They're not really friends, but they're pretty okay with each other. They get along better than Arthur and I seem to, actually...
Mattie looks a little concerned at my lack of response, so I say as quickly as I can while writing every word down as I say them, "His pants suck." I shake my fist to emphasize my point, so my writing is hella shaky. "SUCK, I tell you."
Mattie kind of laughs at that, and his crazy curl bounces. I stare at it. "Then don't wear them," he advises, speaking slower to help me. He probably guessed what I was doing. "You're sort of wider than him, too, so―"
I interrupt him before he can go on. "ARE YOU CALLING ME FAT?"
He looks so startled, like a rabbit. "What―"
"YOU'RE CALLING ME FAT." I am SHOCKED. How could my dearest brother call me FAT? That is like the worst insult ever. "HOW COULD YOU, MATTIE? HOW COULD YOU?" I say it kind of over-dramatically, and I clutch my chest in horror.
He just kind of stares at me for a long moment. "Ask Arthur what he thinks," he says, and then leaves.
Ask Arthur.
REALLY, MATTIE.
WHAT A WONDERFUL SUGGESTION.
I'LL TAKE IT TO HEART, BRO.
Gonna punch him tomorrow and then be all "oh by the way am I fat"
That is DEFINITELY the way to go.
Obviously.
(Does this make me a diva?)
Screw this, I'm going to bed.
1:37 am
I AM NOT FAT
okay now seriously I'm going to bed
...
Saturday
1:31 pm
TOOK A SHOWER... GOT DRESSED... ATE BREAKFAST... All ready to go to Artie's!
1:35 pm
OKAY I SHOULD LEAVE NOW
I'LL TELL YOU ABOUT IT LATER OKAY JUSTICE JOURNAL
3:41 pm
I'M BAAACK
I am so irrationally cold right now like what the hell
and my chin hurts like hellllll
anyway
I walked over to Arthur's dorm, right, and I entered without knocking, because it's totally not breaking-and-entering when it's your BFFL's dorm. I, of course, found Artie in his rocking chair by the window, reading a green book, without his dorm-mate in sight. "Heeey," I greeted, and he jumped a bit, like he hadn't noticed me come in. +10 ninja skills.
"'Ey," he said back with this funny little smile on his face. I remember it because it looked kinda strange; it didn't look like any of his normal smiles, and looked sort of... forced? The last time he gave me a forced sort of smile was when we were in fourth grade and I had broken his favorite toy the day before. After he gave me that smile, he punched me in the face and broke my nose. So, I was understandably cautious about seeing it again after so long.
I stayed near his door, eyeing the possible tools he could use against me. He could hit me with his book, suffocate me with his cushions/pillows and blankets, or throw his rocking chair at me. I was definitely not scared, though, because heroes are never scared! "You okay, wuffle?" 'Wuffle' is this silly nickname I gave him back in eighth grade; it was originally something really stupid, but Artie said it was too gay to actually say out loud (even though he called me 'snugglecuddlykins' in return), so I shortened it to just 'wuffle'. He still calls me 'kins' when I call him that.
... God, it wasn't meant to be so gay, I swear.
Anyway, I digress.
He sat up and patted the space beside him in the universal gesture of 'sit with me', so I did. He stared at his hands, and said, "I'm fine, kins." It was such an obvious lie, I couldn't call him out on it. I slung an arm around his shoulders and pulled him against me. He didn't protest, and he might have snuggled closer, but I can't really remember. I'm not sure how long we stayed like that before I remembered the purpose of my visit.
"Oh, by the way," I said, all casually, "am I fat?"
He started laughing, softly at first, but it increased in volume; I stared down at him, perplexed, and he just laughed harder, leaning forward and gasping for breath. He slumped against me, almost falling into my lap, which would have been really awkward. He laughed for like FOREVER (even though it was probably only like a minute or two... or five) before he could answer. "No," he gasped out. "But you've been eating too many 'amburgers."
I started saying stupid crap about WHY ARTIE WHYYYYY THIS IS WORSE THAN AMERICA HAVING A TIE WITH ENGLAND IN FIFA NOOOO WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME ARTHUR WHYYYY. Then he grabbed my shoulders and started shaking me until I shut up. "You aren't fat," he assured me, "but the 'amburgers are going to your thighs." To prove his point, he pinched my thigh. PINCHED MY THIGH.
DYING.
4:16 pm
Okay I have VitaminWater, it's all cool now
(IT'S NOT MY FAULT THIS VITAMINWATER CRAP IS DELICIOUS OKAY. MATTIE JUST BROUGHT IT HOME ONE DAY, SO I TRIED IT, AND NOW I'M LIKE, ADDICTED. IT'S LIKE THIS PRUSSIAN GUY'S LOVE FOR MATTIE'S PANCAKES. ... OH MAN THAT SOUNDED SO WRONG. I'M SORRY, MATTIE AND PRUSSIAN DUDE WHO IS STILL NOT AS AWESOME AS ME.)
CONTINUATION OF PREVIOUS ENTRY:
After he pinched me (OH THE DRAMA), he did his little pirate-smirk at my expression. I'm sure it was funny because he started snickering. I thought he was gonna bust out laughing again, so I quickly exclaimed, "You BASTARD" and shoved him (not hard, though, because that would have made him fall off the bed, and BFFLs don't do that, obviously). I started spouting crap about how he TOTALLY thought I was fat and shit; the next thing I knew, his face was REALLY fucking close to mine, so of course I shut up and leaned the fuck back because holy shit man, we may act pretty homo, but I, for one, most definitely do NOT swing that way. I must have looked comically aghast because he cracked a smile. "You're not fat," he told me―very calmly, I think, for the position we were in.
Because I obviously didn't want him to take even more drastic measures, I quickly nodded and shifted, and I fell off the bed. I literally slipped off and hit my chin first (which is why it hurts). I just lied there for a few seconds and then started flailing.
Arthur made this weird giggle-snort.
"BOLLOCKS," he then said, sounding mortified, and then called me something―was it "prat" or "twat"? I can't remember―before I could comment on it, and pulled me to my feet, still insulting me, and pushed me out of his room. His final words were, "THIS WAS JUST A DREAM ALFRED OKAY IT NEVER REALLY HAPPENED."
Really, you would have thought he'd kissed me or something.
...
BAD MENTAL IMAGES
OH DEAR SWEET JESUS
[small scribble]
BRB DYING FOREVER
7:32 pm
I called Kiku (he went home to visit his family for the weekend; he lives pretty close, anyway, so it wasn't much of a big deal) and told him what happened in hopes he would tell me what the hell is up with Artie (and why he was all OHSHIT about his giggle-snort). He was silent for a while before telling me I should figure out my feelings first, and that Artie was embarrassed about giggle-snorting (even though it's hella funny). I was about to ask him what he meant (about FIGURING OUT MY FEELINGS, not the giggle-snorting), but then there was this voice in the background and some muttered Asian (I don't even know if it was Japanese or Chinese or VIETNAMESE OR KOREAN OR... OR... OTHER ASIAN LANGUAGES), and he gave me a super quick goodbye and then hung up on me.
HUNG UP ON ME.
Kiku hung up on me. KIKU hung up on me. Kiku hung up on ME. Kiku HUNG UP on me.
WHY HAVE YOU ALL FORSAKEN ME?
I DON'T UNDERSTAND. WHAT IS THERE TO FIGURE OUT? THERE IS NOTHING TO FIGURE OUT. WHAT DOES MY FEELINGS HAVE TO DO WITH THIS, ANYWAY? IT'S ABOUT ARTIE BEING ULTRA-HOMO. HAVE I NOT STRESSED THAT ENOUGH? YOU'D THINK A GUY WOULD GET IT, AFTER ALL THIS.
...
Oh, no
this is not going to end up being some British magic mojo that's gonna bite me in the ass later
YET ANOTHER REASON TO HATE HIM
[a scribbled out "So why can't I do it"]
LIFE ISN'T FAIR
Then again, when is it? Life is never fair. Everyone dies in the end, no matter their alignment (D'n'D much lololol); it doesn't matter if they were good or bad, nice or evil, goody-two-shoes or a devil, just king or a tainted queen. Their final act is always death. No one can escape it.
Screw philosophy. I'm done for the day. (Uh, night. Evening? Yes, let's go with that.) See you tomorrow, Justice Journal.
...
Sunday
2:21 pm
I had the craziest dream ever wtf
just
wtf
I was running somewhere―dunno where―and I saw Artie about to be mauled by a huge bear with honey on its muzzle. It was all like RAWRRR I'MMA EAT YOU and Arthur's like OHNOES and I'm like FWOOOOSH and I high-jump-kick the bear's ass to next Tuesday. Artie rushes into my arms all dramatic-like and we embrace like total homos. THEN Mattie swoops in and takes Artie away so I'm like NOOOOO and Artie's like NOOOOOO and we reach for each other BUT MATTIE KEEPS FLYING so I jumped into trees like a ninja until I caught up with him AND THEN I'M IN THE AIR SINGING "I BELIEVE I CAN FLY" AND I GRAB ARTIE AND WE FALL TO THE GROUND AND ARTIE LANDS FIRST SO HE CUSHIONS MY FALL AND SOMEHOW WE ARE MIRACULOUSLY WITHOUT INJURY. But Artie complains of a sore ass and I tell him I'll be gentler next time. Then I woke up.
It was one of the faggiest dreams I've ever had.
Is my subconscious trying to tell me something?
Goddamn British mojo.
6:08 pm
Man, I am loving Spanish right now. It's what I get for listening to Spanish songs. Maybe I'll ask Antonio for lessons?
Oh! I haven't told you about Antonio, have I? His full name's Antonio Fernandez Carriedo (with that Spanish double surname thing going on). He comes from somewhere in Spain. He's usually very happy, and is almost always smiling. I'm pretty sure he's gay for Lovino Vargas (the grumpy grandson of Rome), since he's always cooing about how cute he is and how much he looks like a tomato and he even has tons of nicknames for him omg IT IS INSANE. There's Lovi, Lovinito, mi querido, mi esposo, mi corazon, mi tesoro, mi tesorino, mi sol, mi tomate, mi tomatito... AND SOOO MUCH MORE. WHAT THE HELL IS UP WITH HIM. Even more homo than Arthur and I, and man, you KNOW that's PRETTY DAMN GAY.
I don't sound insulting, do I? I don't mean to be. Antonio's a pretty cool guy. We would be friends if our pals weren't so different and likely to start beating each other (or one of us) up. Arthur has been itching for a chance to punch Francis in the face/kick him in the vital regions; Francis has been waiting for the chance to grope me or Artie (or Mattie, which I am TOTALLY not happy about); Matthew and the Prussian guy would just walk off, but not before the Prussian got a hit in; Kiku would probably try to stop our fighting; and everyone else... Well, they're not dumb enough to actually get involved.
Especially not Ludwig, this CRAZY STERN German with OCD about order. He looks pretty angry, but it's not the case at all! He's totally awesome, and his RAWR I'M GOING TO BEAT YOU UP face is pretty handy when the time calls for it. Not even kidding. That expression has saved us more times than we can count.
I should probably name all my friends, actually, so I don't need to introduce them all when something about them comes up.
You heard about Artie, Kiku, Mattie, and Ludwig. Hm... There's Feliciano Vargas, Rome's other grandson. He's incredibly ditzy and air-headed, but totally fun to be around! He has this verbal tic where he says "ve~" and it is THE MOST ADORABLE THING EVER. He's the baby of the group, you could say. He's the peanut butter to our jelly. The lettuce to our burger. THE LIBERTY TO OUR FREEDOM.
There's Toris Laurinaitis, the only Lithuanian I'm likely to ever meet. He's extremely polite and way too introverted. He's kind of easy to take advantage of, but don't tell him I said that! I'm supposed to be one of the ones who can't read the atmosphere, you know? Can't let anyone know I'm more than a pretty face; they might catch on to my plan to take over the world with hamburgers. And justice. But mostly hamburgers. ANYWAY. He's kind of pretty, I guess; I don't say that to demean his masculinity, but simply because it's true. He's... pretty. It pains me to admit it, it really does. He's the tomatoes to our burger.
Since I know Toris, I have to know his Polish buddy, Feliks Łukasiewicz (I have no idea how to pronounce his last name, it's all over the place). Feliks is... how should I say this... TOTALLY HOMO. Very, very flamboyant. He speaks like a valley girl and cross-dresses. But he's a good friend. He's not the type to back-stab people if that's what the crowd is doing; he's a nonconformist in that aspect. He's cheerful and clingy (which no one really minds, since he's like a less ADHD, more girly Feliciano). He's also a great fashionista, which is great, since we all know guys generally have no fashion sense. HE IS THE CONDIMENTS (besides ketchup) OF OUR BURGER.
I could name others―Yao Wang (Chinese), Im Yong Soo (CRAZY KOREAN), Ivan Braginski (THE INSANE RUSSIAN I TALKED ABOUT BEFORE), just to name a few―but the ones I told you about are my BUDDIES. My PALS. My BFFs. MY... UHHH... INSERT MORE SYNONYMS FOR "FRIENDS" HERE.
My friends must seem really crazy! They're all super-special-awesome, though. If they weren't, they wouldn't be ALFRED F. JONES THE HERO'S awesome buddies.
BRB PHONE
9:54 pm
PFFT, it was Artie. He was all worried about yesterday; he was concerned I was avoiding him. Being the hero I am, I told him it was totally fine, I had just been caught off guard. He was relieved until I was all, "OH ALSO, your giggle-snort was cute."
Cue Britannia Rage.
He was all
"ARGH WHY WOULD YOU EVEN―I SWEAR TO GOD ALFRED―WHY WOULD―I 'ATE YOU SO BLOODY MUCH―YOU PRAT―I'D BRITANNIA BEAM YOUR ARSE IF WE WERE FACE-TO-FACE―YOU'RE LUCKY I'M NOT WALKING OVER RIGHT NOW TO SLUG YOU―BLOODY WANKER―" etc. etc.
It was funny.
Which was pretty bad, because I started laughing.
Artie was PISSED.
He started calling me some more names, but his accent was beginning to thicken so I couldn't really understand him. Before I knew it, I was... sort of entranced by the SOUND of his voice. The noise rose and fell like an orchestrated, mismatched march, irregular and unpracticed. It began to cascade gently, signalling the end of his rant, and cut off abruptly as he stopped to breathe heavily. "Well?" he demanded when he had regained his breath. "Aren't you going to say something?"
I was apparently more out of it than I thought, because I responded with, "DUDE YOUR VOICE IS FUCKING AMAZING." It came out sounding a lot more, uh, FOND than... anything I usually say. I might contribute to Arthur's early heart attack if I keep it up.
Artie made a sort of choked noise. "What the 'ell did you say?" From his tone, I could tell he was blushing. It was higher-pitched, almost anxious, which was always a sign he was highly embarrassed. He probably couldn't believe I had just said what I had. I still can't believe it, myself.
"UM. UM." I really couldn't think of anything to say. "I'LL SEE YOU TOMORROW." I may or may not have stuttered and my voice could have cracked, but that's for me to know, and you to never find out (or... well... already know, if, by the end of this, something awesomely awesome happens and I need to give this to a person for them to read). I hung up on him without waiting for a confused answer. When he called back a few moments later, I ignored it and rolled over, pulling a pillow over my head.
Eventually, he stopped calling.
So... Here I am.
Cuddling my American flag pillow.
On my bed.
Should I whine or should I sleep? To whine or not to whine, that is the question. (I don't read Shakespeare, but hell if his lines aren't memorable.)
10:32 pm
OKAY I'MMA WHINE
okay
okay
ARTIE IS A POOP-HEAD. AN ELEMENTARY INSULT, BUT A TRUE ONE. HE. IS. A. POOP. HEAD. A STUPID, BRITISH, MOCKING [crossed out ", LOVELY"] POOP-HEAD. STUPID BRITS. AND THEIR STUPID ACCENTS. AND THEIR STUPID HUMONGOUS BROWS. AND THEIR STUPID IMPOSSIBLY GREEN EYES. AND THEIR STUPID SOFT HAIR. AND THEIR STUPID TEETH LIKE WHAT THE HELL DO THEY EVEN BRUSH THEM OR DID THEY REPLACE THEM WITH STUPID WOOD? WERE THEY RUINED BY THEIR STUPID HORRIBLE TEA? I BET THEY WERE. THEY'RE LIKE BEAVERS, EXCEPT THEY DRINK TEA. STUPID TEA. GIVE THEM BACK THEIR INSANELY WHITE TEETH.
WHY ARTHUR WHY
GODDAMN ARTHUR KIRKLAND
GODDAMN YOU
why am I even so upset at him? I'm the one I should be blaming. I'M the one that said the most ridiculous thing ever. Now Artie will be all, "ohgod Alfred are you alright?" tomorrow, and I'll have to be like, "yeah Art I'm fine" and he's gonna be like "NO YOU'RE NOT STOP LYING TO ME" and I'll be all, "WHY WOULD I EVER LIE TO YOU, DEAREST" and he's gonna be like "YOU'RE SO GAY" and I'm gonna be like "LOVE YOU TOO HONEY-BUNCHES-OF-OATS" and he's gonna be all, "I 'ATE YOU SO BLOODY MUCH" and I'll be all, "OH PLEASE STOP YOU'RE MAKING ME BLUSH" and then he's gonna stomp off.
Fucking.
Is it an appropriate enough time to go "FML" forever?
ARGHHH WHATEVER
SCREW EVERYTHING
I
I FUCKING HATE LIFE
FUCKING...
UGH.
Justice Journal, what I am about to confide in you is very, very secret and should never be revealed to anyone else. I am trusting you, as the place of my every-day life, to be my tight-lipped confidant. If you so choose to tell someone else about this, I will burn you to ashes, one page at a time.
I'm confused about my feelings for Arthur. He's my best friend, but he's... something more? I guess there has to be a reason why I'm so comfortable being all touchy-feely with him and get super creeped out with anyone else. Could it indicate that... I...?
No.
NO.
HOLY SHIT
THIS REVELATION
DO NOT WANT
PLEASE, GIVE ME BACK MY IGNORANCE
WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME, GOD
WHY WOULD YOU LET ME COME TO THAT CONCLUSION?
YOU HAVE FORSAKEN ME. YOU BASTARD. I BET YOU'RE LAUGHING AT ME FROM WAY UP THERE.
(I'M NOT PRAYING FOR YOUR FORGIVENESS.
... DOUCHE.)
...
Monday
3:18 am
I hate teenage angst, especially when I'm the one having it. Seriously, just GET OVER YOURSELF. Er. Myself. Whatever. Is this the 'denial' stage? I HATE DENIAL, TOO. JUST SUCK IT UP AND ACCEPT IT, ME. It's not as easy as that; I'm ridiculously conflicted.
Stupid Arthur.
WAIT
THERE MAY STILL BE HOPE
NO ONE EVER REALIZES THEIR FEELINGS FOR SOMEONE THAT QUICK
CODE RED IS OVER, JUSTICE JOURNAL! THERE'S NO WAY I COULD EVER LIKE ARTIE THAT WAY. I WOULD HAVE NEVER REALIZED IT. IT ALL MAKES SENSE NOW.
I should probably apologize to God.
... After I wake up again.
4:23 pm
It was actually pretty awkward today, but only in the morning. Feliciano latched onto me before Arthur could even make a step forward, and started babbling about how his older brother was finally learning to love. He was way overly excited, so of course I caught it too, and then we were sort of whooping about it. Ludwig took Feliciano back a while after that, just in time for the bell to ring.
Arthur grabbed my arm and dragged me to our homeroom, grumbling all the way. He seated us in the back and sat down with a huff. I sat down beside him, of course, so we pretty much spent the whole period glancing at each other; or, well, Arthur glared every time he looked at me and I looked at him every time I thought he wasn't looking. Now that period was prettyyyy awkward.
"ARTHUR," I said when we moved to our next class, just barely managing to grab his wrist before he left without me; somehow, I managed to twirl him toward me, which I totally hadn't intended to do, but I rolled with it. "Are you okay?" I asked softly, searchingly, as I tipped his face toward me by placing a finger on his chin and lifting it up. His eyes have never looked so green before. "Did I do something?"
A red hue spread across his face (is he sick?) and he jerked his head away, stepping back. "I'm fine," he mumbled, avoiding my eyes. "You didn't do anything." He hesitated, glancing at the people still in the room who were watching us with what seemed to be great interest (I swear I saw more than a few camera flashes, too). He scowled at them and the cowards quickly scurried away, the braver ones merely hovering at the door. "We'll discuss this later."
I released his wrist and we walked out together, pushing past the bystanders.
SO.
We didn't really talk until lunch. We went to the roof, telling our friends not to follow; they looked like they knew something we didn't. Arthur and I just kind of stood there, looking down, before I threw my arms back, closing my eyes when I started laughing. Another laugh joined mine and they mingled harmoniously, one higher-pitched than the other (though I think that might have been mine).
(I really don't know why I remember that.)
Arthur was the first to stop laughing. I laid my elbow on his shoulder and leaned on him, waiting for him to speak. "Alfred," he began lowly, so quietly I wouldn't have been able to catch it if I weren't so close, "'ave you ever been in love?"
I knew he was going to lead up to something with that. "No," I replied, but, thinking back on it, that could have been a lie.
He was silent for a while before saying, "I think I am."
The words made me feel like I'd been slapped. I still don't understand it; did he do some magic mojo and hit me? Seriously, what the hell. It couldn't have been jealousy or hurt or anything, because I don't care who Artie likes. Obviously. I remember looking away, wishing I could say something, but words failed me. Finally, I asked, in a voice that didn't sound like mine at all, "Who?"
He mumbled something I couldn't quite catch, so I asked him to repeat it. He went all red again and called me something British and slugged me in the arm, but not as hard as he probably would have liked. He can punch pretty hard when he wants to.
Then we ate lunch while we argued over inane things, just like always.
9:43 pm
AW YEAHHH
DID KARAOKE WITH MY BUDS IN FELICIANO'S DORM ROOM
EVERYONE WAS IN AWE OF MY SKILLS, AS THEY SHOULD
THEN ANTONIO BARGED IN AND YELLED SOMETHING ABOUT PREGNANT TURTLES
SO WE ALL STARTED DISCUSSING HOW YOU WOULD KNOW A TURTLE WAS PREGNANT
SO THEN I WAS LIKE, "WHAT IF THERE WAS A FAT BOY TURTLE AND EVERYONE THOUGHT IT WAS A PREGNANT FEMALE TURTLE?"
AND THEN ARTHUR STARTED ARGUING WITH ME
AND THEN EVERYONE WAS JUST
EVERYWHERE
AND EVERYTHING
IT WAS INSANE
AND SO TOTALLY FUCKING AWESOME
It's times like this where I remember why they're my best friends in the whole entire world.
I love them.
10:32 pm
OH, AND I THINK ARTHUR LIKES FRANCIS.
For some reason, that makes me angry.
Oh, well.
I'll save the damsel (Artie) from the villain (Francis) tomorrow.
10:45 pm
AND NO I AM NOT JEALOUS
GOD, JUSTICE JOURNAL
HOW COULD YOU EVEN ASSUME THAT
10:48 pm
SILLY JOURNAL
11:15 pm
APPARENTLY, TELLING YOU YOU'RE SILLY MAKES ME SPEAK IN A SOUTHERN DRAWL.
OKAY
YOU'RE NOT SILLY ANYMORE
NOW GIVE ME BACK MY NORMAL VIRGINIAN ACCENT
11:21 pm
GIVE
IT
BACK
NOW
OR IT'S TIME-OUT FOR YOU
11:29 pm
THANK you.
...
Tuesday
6:28 pm
And I know I'll always believe―until the day you took away from me the only thing that mattered in my life. Can't you see why I'm angry with you? I'm hating you for all you put me through, and I don't know why, inside, this silence is deafening. You know I gave up everything for you; I followed you always, all along. God, don't let her be gone... I'm lost without you...
I love this song.
"God in This Moment" is such a sad song, but... Yeah.
Kind of sounds like something some people would relate to.
[scribbled out "(Would America and Britain count?)"]
I'm kind of lethargic today.
OH
APPLEBEE'S NIGHT
SEE YOU LATER JUSTICE JOURNAL
10:59 pm
WHAT THE HECK IS ARTHUR TRYING TO TELL ME?
I was wondering that all during dinner, so I decided to ask Kiku. He told me Arthur would tell me when the time was right.
WHEN THE FUCK WILL THE TIME BE RIGHT?
HIS SECRET IS KILLING ME
KILLING
ME
DO YOU WANT ME DEAD, GUYS
DO YOU
STUPID LADY GAGA HATERS
11:09 pm
Okay... what the hell.
Someone knocked on the door and ran away before I could answer it. When I looked down, I saw a neatly wrapped bag; on it is a photo and a note. The note was obviously typed and says, "You'll be in my heart." The photo is of the leg of a chair from, like, the, uh, Empire era, where Britain was big on giving the legs of things animal features. This particular one is a lion's paw. What the hell does that even mean?
The bag contains cookies.
Oatmeal cookies.
Fucking delicious oatmeal cookies.
Fucking delicious NOT BURNT oatmeal cookies.
Whoever this is, I am lovin' them SO hard right now.
Now... good night, Justice Journal.
...
Wednesday
4:27 pm
JUSTIN
BIEBER
OMG
OKAY SO
TORIS HAD HIS HAIR IN A PONYTAIL TODAY―NOT REALLY A BIG DEAL, CONSIDERING HE DOES IT A LOT―BUT THEN FELIKS PUT A HAT ON HIS HEAD, AND HE LOOKED LIKE THE OLDER, MANLIER VERSION OF JUSTIN BIEBER
HOLY
FUCKING
SHIT
FELIKS HAD STARTED GIGGLING CRAZILY, WHICH HAD GOTTEN MY ATTENTION; WHEN I REALIZED WHY HE WAS LAUGHING, I STARTED LAUGHING, TOO, AND SOON, THE REST OF OUR GROUP WAS LAUGHING LIKE BLOODY MANIACS
(GET OUT, BRITISH WORD)
TORIS REFUSED TO WEAR THE HAT FOR THE REST OF THE DAY
MOSTLY BECAUSE WE WERE STILL TEASING HIM (AND ASKING HIM TO SING JUSTIN BIEBER SONGS FOR US)
SO YEAH
GONNA GO BACK TO HIS DORM ROOM NOW
WE'RE GONNA... DO SHIT LIKE... I DON'T EVEN KNOW
MAYBE I'LL WATCH HIM PAINT FELIKS'S NAILS
OR WATCH IT DRY
OR PLAY CHECKERS
OR POKER
OR CHESS
OR BLACKJACK
OR GO FISH
YEAH, GO FISH.
GOTTA LOVE GO FISH.
SO YEAH BYE
8:32 pm
Feliks likes the gayest music ever.
That is all.
11:02 pm
I got cookies again.
Seriously, whoever this is, I fucking love them.
...
Thursday
4:47 pm
I love Arthur. He is the taco to my Mexican, the paella to my Spaniard, the rotten fish to my Scandinavian, the pasta to my Italian, the wurst to my German, the vodka to my Russian. THE HAMBURGER TO MY AMERICAN. THE FISH AND CHIPS TO MY ENGLISHMAN. I love him THAT much.
I should probably explain before you get the wrong idea.
HE SAVED ME FROM THE CRAZY RUSSIAN.
YEP, YOU HEARD ME.
HE RESCUED ME FROM IVAN.
I'M SURE YOU'RE DYING TO HEAR HOW.
I was just talking to Artie, right, when Ivan passes by us; my legs were out so he almost tripped on them; as it was, he stumbled. The temperature seemed to drop as he turned around to glower at us with this insanely creepy smile on his face. "You wish to become one with Russia, da?" he asked menacingly, as if that was the only reason I'd make him pissed.
I straightened up from my slouch. "Nah," I replied with a practiced grin. "America's more badass than Russia any day."
That wasn't a really smart move, since Ivan really fucking hates hearing that. "I see," he said calmly, and I thought he was going to drop it until he pulled a pipe out of nowhere. "If America is better, then I suppose its representative here will not mind having a little... friendly competition?"
I'm not gonna lie: I almost wet my pants at that. Gross, but true.
I was also wondering why the hell no teacher had interfered yet. You'd think the pipe would have alerted them something was wrong.
"Just remember who won the Cold War," I retorted, standing up.
His face contorted into a look of unadulterated rage and I honestly thought I was going to die.
Then Artie got between us and grabbed Ivan's shirt collar. "You lay a 'and on 'im," he growled in a tone I've never heard from him before (and holy fucking shit, this is awkward to say, but it was pretty damn sexy), "and it will be the last thing you do, Braginski." He shook him a bit to emphasize his point before releasing him. He turned to me and frowned. "Jones, you're a prat," he told me plainly, though noticeably less severely. "Stop provoking Braginski, or I won't stop 'im next time."
He walked away, leaving Ivan and I standing there.
"Um," I said eloquently. "I guess this calls for a truce."
Ivan nodded. "Da."
We shook hands quickly and I hurried to catch up with Arthur.
I don't even remember where it happened, but, yeah.
I LOVE ARTIE BECAUSE OF THIS OCCURRENCE.
When I caught up with him, I swung him around and hugged him briefly. "You," I told him, "are my lifesaver." He flushed again―seriously, how sick is he?―and started muttering insults under his breath, but at least he didn't yell at me like he normally would have. He pulled away and started walking again.
AND SO
THUS ENDS ALFRED'S TALE FOR THE DAY
(Oh, by the way, I don't think Artie likes Francis anymore. He broke his nose today during P.E., which is another reason why I love him.)
I'm gonna go hang with my friends now. Bye!
11:13 pm
COOKIES AGAIN
Is it just me, or does it seem like I'm being courted?
...
Friday
6:04 pm
APPARENTLY, hanging out in the rain is a wonderful past-time, because I was just doing that. I'll explain after my shower.
7:23 pm
Okay, so. It was an average day―Mei, this Taiwanese chick, was flirting with me, though―and then, when school ended, it was raining lightly, just a bit heavier than sprinkling. Arthur decided to stay out, and assumed the pose I had taken that day on the rooftop; the one difference was that he tilted his head back so the rain splattered directly on his face.
Being the best friend in the whole entire world, I stayed out with him. When he sensed that, he dipped his head so the rain was only hitting the top of it, and opened his eyes and smiled at me; it was a different smile than his usual ones. His lips curved slowly upward like it was the most natural thing in the world―like it was the sun rising from the horizon―and my heart skipped a beat or two, and its pace accelerated for reasons unknown to me. My cheeks warmed and I wanted to look away, suddenly embarrassed, but I couldn't.
He looked faintly amused. "You didn't 'ave to stay," he informed me off-handedly, like he expected I would leave the moment he told me I could. Under ordinary circumstances, I probably would have; however, as it definitely wasn't under ordinary circumstances, I stayed where I was. Or, rather, I put my bag on a nearby bench, thankfully under a tree that would hopefully shield it from the worst of the rain, and joined him.
It started raining heavier, and I had to force myself not to shiver several times. I peeked at Arthur furtively, just to check if he looked like he was going inside anytime soon, but he looked at peace with the world. My mouth felt dry, and I licked my lips absently, gazing at him as if in a trance.
He must have felt my stare, because he glanced at me, smiling the same smile he had given me a few minutes earlier. Ridiculously, my heart had a similar reaction as the last time, and for some inexplicable reason, I wanted him to keep smiling like that. I tentatively smiled back, taking a step toward him to slip his hand in mine. "We should go inside," I murmured, conscious of his chilled flesh against mine; I clutched it just a little tighter, as if it would make a difference. "If you catch a cold, I am totally telling you 'I told you so'."
He laughed softly, leaning up for a second before seeming to think better of it, or maybe realize what he was doing. I couldn't see what else he did, because I took off my wet glasses, but he led me to the bench and got my bag for me, and then, as I am pretty much blind without my glasses, took me to my dorm. He left only after making sure I cleaned my glasses and put them back on.
And then I took a shower and now here I am, writing this, with a damp bag on my rug.
I am very confused about a few things. For one, why did I even notice the difference in Arthur's smile? Secondly, why did I BLUSH? Thirdly, why didn't I want to interrupt him and his little thing with the rain? Fourthly, why the hell did I want him to keep on smiling the way he did? And fifthly... What the hell is up with my heart? I don't know what it's doing anymore.
The signs can only point to one thing: I was taken in by aliens last night and they messed me up.
Fucking ALIENS, man. I bet they were from that new planet we discovered in the... Goldilocks... Thing... I don't even know.
Well, I'm glad that was solved! I was worried I... Well, I won't even go there.
And now I must visit Kiku real quick, because I might be neglecting him.
11:11 pm
I wish I could figure out what the hell is up with Arthur quickly.
YEAH
YESSSSS
GOT IT DOWN BEFORE 11:12 SO IT WILL DEFINITELY COME TRUE
I get the feeling my life is about to change drastically. IT BETTER BE FOR THE BETTER OR I'M GOING TO BEAT A CERTAIN TIME UP. HOW THAT WILL EVEN HAPPEN, I DON'T KNOW, BUT IT WILL OCCUR ONE WAY OR ANOTHER, EVEN IF I HAVE TO DEFY EVERY SINGLE KNOWN THING IN THE UNIVERSE TO DO IT.
NOW... GOOD NIGHT.
...
Saturday
1:03 pm
My dream.
Just.
Holy shit.
OKAY SO
I was on my bed, with gloves on my hands and feet, chained to my bed, and then a phoenix came flying out of nowhere. It was all CAW CAW FUCKING BITCH CAW and I was like CAW CAW YOURSELF STUPID BRIT and it turned into Arthur. He was like OH YOU WHORE, which was REALLY rude, because what the hell, he was just a bird, go shoot yourself. ANYWAY, I falcon-punched him in the face and he was like GODDAMMIT YOU BLOODY WANKER and bitch-slapped me. And then I kicked him in the nuts because I'm a cheater cheater pumpkin eater, and then he fell to the ground and I was proclaimed the winner.
And then I woke up.
MY DREAMS ARE BECOMING PROGRESSIVELY WEIRDER.
1:22 pm
I'M SNEEZING
IF I CATCH A COLD, I SWEAR TO GOD―
Oh.
... Oh.
I should go check on Arthur real quick.
BRB.
4:56 pm
Yep.
Artie's definitely ill. That's what you get for playing in the rain.
He was in bed when I entered; his roommate was gone again, so he was alone. Being the nice person I am, I checked to see if he had a fever. His forehead seemed hotter than usual, so I found a rag and ran it under cold water in his bathroom, and wrung it out before putting it on his forehead. I left to get some soup for him (in other words, get Kiku to make it). When I came back, he was awake; he was sitting up, holding the rag in his lap, staring down at it. He looked up when I neared the bed, his expression unusually, er... What's the word? I don't think I can adequately describe it. It was... very tender, like he'd been given the sweetest present in the world.
"You've a fever," I told him, lower than I'm used to; I exchanged the bowl for the cloth, and sat down on the other bed. It was clean and tidy, so I probably wasn't sitting on anything nasty. I watched him eat the liquid slowly, and while you might think that's sort of creepy, I don't think it really was. I was only making sure he was going to eat all of it.
His face was paler than usual, but his cheeks were flushed; his bangs clung to his forehead, and his eyes were too bright, with a grayish tinge under his eyes, like he hadn't gotten much sleep. He seemed tired; I got up when he was almost done and wet the rag again, returning in time for him to place the empty bowl on his dresser. "You don't 'ave to do this," he said, and sneezed.
I placed a hand on his chest and pushed him down. "I wouldn't be much of a hero if I didn't help my best friend, would I?" Arthur says that my obsession with heroes is ridiculous, but it's made me into a better person, you know? We used to be real close, almost as close as this, but we drifted because of something so stupid, I can't even remember it, now. In that period, I wanted to become a hero to mend the rift, because you can't really ignore a hero. We eventually began to talk to each other again, but it was always in the form of arguments. Every now and then, one of us would do something kind for the other, and we'd be thankful, but quickly forget about it, until they accumulated to such a point where our bickering was almost fond. By that point, we sometimes managed to hold civil conversations with each other, and for that, I will always be glad. Our fights haven't been the same since; the violent ones are few and far between. He has always been my best friend, even when all I wanted was to strangle him. It's the only thing that has never changed between us.
He glared half-heartedly at me. "Git."
"Jerk."
"Wanker," he retorted, and seemed to give up, because he settled against his pillows without any more complaints.
I pressed the damp cloth to his forehead and his eyes slid shut. I stayed with him until I was sure he was asleep. I left to grab you, Justice Journal, and now, I am hoping he doesn't read you, because if he does, I will DIE of mortification.
5:31 pm
I can't believe what I just did.
I pulled the drying rag off so I could run it under water again (and hope to God I'm not worsening his condition), and when I came back, he just looked so... I don't even know. I swept his bangs to the side and pressed a gentle, chaste kiss to his forehead.
Then I put the cloth back on AND NOW HERE I AM
WRITING ABOUT IT LIKE A GIRL
5:38 pm
This is boring.
Boring as hell.
Ugh.
I poked him in the arm, but he only mumbled something and shifted in his sleep. And he calls ME a git. We all know who's the git now. He just better be thankful I'm doing this for him. If it were anyone else, I'd be gone by now.
Well, I guess this is as good a time as any to figure out my feelings, just like Kiku told me last week.
If this were a chick flick, the answer would be easy, but, as this isn't a chick flick, it's difficult. My first conclusion was that I'm in love with him; my second was that I was abducted by aliens; both are plausible. I'm staring at Arthur and all I can think is that he makes it so difficult for me to finally understand my emotions.
There is only one answer. I'll ask Mei to the movies. We'll go. If it's normal, then I was probed by aliens. If it's not... Well, we'll find out, won't we? Let's just hope it doesn't come to that. PLEASE LET ME ENJOY THIS "DATE" WITH A CUTE GIRL, GOD.
(Don't question my logic.)
Wish me luck, Justice Journal. I'll need it.
10:42 pm
I went to the movies with Mei. She was surprised I was asking her to go with me tonight, but she agreed. She seemed excited. She flirted subtly all throughout the film, which I dutifully ignored, because heroes don't take advantage of girls that want them.
It was okay until I drove her back to our dorms. Before she got out, she turned and kissed me. I didn't feel anything for her; I just felt... repulsed, almost. All I knew was that I didn't want her lips on mine. I pushed her away and she didn't look hurt, just sort of forlorn. "It's because of Arthur, isn't it?" she questioned, but not meanly; she looked like she expected it.
I said, "I'm not gay."
She patted my arm a little awkwardly, smiling sadly at me. "It's alright."
I remembered I was supposed to figure out if I liked Arthur. "Hey, Mei?" I asked softly, looking at her. "Do you really think I like Artie that way?"
She nodded, and told me she knew the day she saw us together. We were always too close for it to be platonic; she saw how Arthur got all flustered when I said certain things, and how I was so affectionate toward him with the little things. She saw me brush our hands together, sling an arm around his shoulders, hug him; she saw him smile secretly at all the things I did, look at me when he thought I wasn't looking, slug me in the arm with far less force than what he would have used against, say, Francis.
I stared at her for a long moment when she paused, looking like she wanted to say more. "And?" I prompted, but I'm not sure if I wanted to hear more or if I just wanted to get it over with.
She hesitated. "The way you look at each other," she explained slowly, "is so... amazing." She blushed, and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "The first time I saw you two, I thought you must have been a couple. Every time you caught sight of him, your expression changed into something incredibly soft and fond, like he was your personal sunshine."
Her words rang true, but instead of becoming hysterical, it actually made me feel better. I slumped against my seat, running a hand through my hair. It was a lot of things to take in. "What would you call that emotion?"
"Love," she replied without skipping a beat. "What else could it be?"
The question stumped me, but I didn't linger on it. I just laughed and said, "You're a good girl, Mei. We should hang out more."
She looked bemused but pleased at the statement, and turned to open her car door. "We should," she agreed, and carefully stepped out, wobbling on her heels. "See you Monday?" she asked tentatively, as if I was going to retract my declaration and laugh in her face.
"See you Monday," I repeated as a confirmation, and she shut the door and waved at me as I left.
I went to McDonald's to clear my head, instead of going back to my own dorm. It helped, but I was still kind of confused. How could an 'outsider' notice things I didn't? Better yet, how could anyone be that perceptive? I wondered that until I got to my dorm and received a text; I checked my phone and lo and behold, it was Arthur, telling me he heard about my 'date' with Mei from Ludwig, who had come to make sure he was fine, and he asked me how it went.
It was as if a great burden was lifted from my shoulders to be replaced by a lighter, more bearable one, and I'll admit that I felt like crying. I pinched the bridge of my nose and took a deep breath before replying. I told him that she made me realize I loved someone. I sent it, and for once in my life, I knew it was true.
I started crying and laughing, and I shut my door. I leaned against it until I slid down and my butt hit the floor. I began hiccuping and I took off my glasses, pressing my arm against my eyes until I got a reply from Arthur. He asked me who it was. I still haven't answered.
And so... Here I am.
This situation is ridiculous, isn't it? I can't believe I'm being so... angst-y about it. It's funny... I always thought Arthur would be more likely to react this way (except with a hell of a lot more yelling, sobbing, and denial). I guess life likes surprises.
THIS IS NOT LIKE ME AT ALL
JESUS CHRIST
I am SO punching Arthur tomorrow. I can't believe it all started because of him! SERIOUSLY, what the hell? Fucking inconsiderate bastard!
I love him.
The words have yet to not stun me.
11:38 pm
Screw tomorrow. I'm going right now.
...
Sunday
6:21 am
Okay.
Um.
I... yeah.
Being considerably out of it yesterday, I did, in fact, go to Artie's room in the middle of the night, forgetting that he was sick as hell. I just barged in, ignoring the fact that his roommate was there; Arthur was awake, his fever having apparently broken in the time I was gone (or he was just being retarded and stressing himself further). He looked up at my arrival―they both did―and raised his eyebrows when I strode over there and sat down on the bed.
"I LOVE YOU."
I grabbed the front of his shirt after my confession and kissed the fuck out of him.
SO ASSERTIVE, I KNOW.
His roommate made a noise that sounded like a snort, but I was kind of too busy locking lips with Arthur to really pay attention. And Arthur totally responded, but it didn't go farther than a closed-mouthed kiss. His lips were warm and slightly chapped; it was... nice. I only pulled away when I needed air and Artie and I sort of stared at each other while we regained our breath.
It was only then that what I had just done registered in my brain.
"HOLY FUCK," I said very intelligently. I grabbed Arthur's shoulders. "You are such a goddamn DICK! Do you realize what the hell you've put me through? THIS IS NOT AN ASIAN DRAMA! You made me ANGST like a pansy!"
He stared at me. "What the bloody 'ell are you―"
"YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID, YOU FUCKER."
"... Uh―"
"You DOUCHE." And then I kissed him again, just because I could. I pulled away fairly quickly that time. "You know how dense I am! Mei had to tell me what I was feeling! MEI! The overly-perceptive, flower-in-her-hair Taiwanese chick!" I yanked him forward so I could bury my face in the crook of his neck. "And you smiling at me like that in the goddamn rain really didn't help! I thought I'd been probed by aliens! ALIENS!"
I think I was sort of babbling like a madman.
Arthur patted my back awkwardly, probably glancing at the other occupant of the room. "Alfred... Aren't you sort of over-reacting?"
"I AM NOT OVER-REACTING."
"You ARE over-reacting, poppet," he oh-so-kindly corrected me, and I laugh a little, simply because he has never sounded so British before he used the word "poppet". He started playing with my hair, no joke. He paused, and added, "I love you, too."
That made me really happy. I clutched the fabric of his shirt and smiled. He didn't even mention the PDA, which I think is a good show of restraint from him. I could tell he was dying to say something about it. I wonder when, exactly, I had gotten so good at reading him.
I inhaled his scent. He smelled like tea, burnt scones, and Old Spice. It probably would have been kinda gross if it had been anyone but Arthur (especially the scones bit; really, Artie, just stop trying before you kill us all from the charred remains of what could have been delicious).
The wonderful moment wasn't even ruined, like what usually happens in movies; his roommate had the grace to not interrupt, bless him. Arthur and I started talking about silly things, quietly so we wouldn't disturb the accidental third wheel more than was necessary, and eventually, he asked if I was going to back to my dorm room. I disentangled myself from him and pressed my lips to his briefly. "Yeah," I said. "G'night, sunshine."
He smiled, and it was beautiful. "Good night, love."
So I went back to my room and took a nap. When I woke up, I got you out, and now here I am, writing this. I actually feel pretty good, and it's all because of Arthur.
I have never wanted to go back in time and stop myself from doing anything―not even when I punched Mei in fifth grade, or when I pushed Ivan off the roof in seventh―and I don't intend to start now. I don't think I will, either. If I had the chance to start over, I wouldn't take it, because everything that ever happened to me all led up to this.
And, you know, I don't regret a thing.