An Indecent Stranger
Alfred wasn't sure if it was the air or just a gut feeling that made him want to take a different route that day. Whether it was the roses that whispered to him or the wind that screamed by his ears. He didn't know why he wasn't so eager to get to his destination.
The flowers in his hands felt heavier than they used to and he gazed at them emptily. It was Valentine's Day. He didn't have regular red roses, but instead some blue weird flowers that tended to grow all over the city. They were picked from the sides of the roads and by the gardens of houses. No one missed them; he doubted anyone even liked the flowers.
So why was he planning to give them to his girlfriend for Valentine's Day?
The gravel under his feet felt uncomfortable, and he wasn't used to walking on a dirt road. He stumbled over a few uneven parts of the ground but kept walking. The day felt so surreal. He didn't feel alive. If one were to tell him, "You are dreaming," he would have believed them. He would have spread his wings and flown.
But he had no wings.
The air was silent and still. He looked up at the clouds and sighed, there was nothing here. No reason for him to have taken this path. No reason at all. But still something tugged at him that it was the right way to go.
Alfred stopped.
He heard a soft sound, and not that of an animal. It was a soft crying sound, coming from a while away. Alfred hadn't a clue how he heard it, but he did. He walked towards it. He walked.
The sound grew louder and louder it grew until he found himself in a clearing. All around him were those flowers in his hands, falling from trees and flying through the wind. They were not caught on garbage cans or stuck in gutters. They were free; they were beautiful.
But the sound continued as if he wasn't there. The soft noise of weeping had drafted into his ears and he froze. Not because the wind had chilled, but because of such a helpless figure kneeling on the ground. The stranger wept.
Alfred felt it wasn't his business—he should have left—but he didn't. He walked closer as if his legs were moving of their own accord.
"Hey," he spoke gently, but the man on his knees jolted as if he'd screamed from the rooftops.
The stranger stumbled as he stood, wiping furiously at his eyes and hiding his face with the fringe of his hair. "I-I'm sorry," he spoke in such a melodious voice, "I'm indecent."
"Doesn't matter," Alfred spoke nearly monotone. "What's wrong?"
The stranger's chest heaved—was it to catch his breath or to keep from crying, Alfred couldn't tell.
"I-It's nothing. I don't mean to appear so… Weak."
"Hey now, it's alright to fall every once and a while," Alfred wasn't sure what he was saying, "As long as you get back up. You're standing now right?"
The stranger lifted his face to reveal the most beautiful eyes Alfred had ever seen. The green irises glistened in the sunlight so angelically Alfred would have sworn he'd seen an angel. And yet his eyes held so much pain.
"Am I?" Alfred had no idea two words could knock the breath from him.
The stranger turned abruptly and Alfred would bet anything another tear had escaped. His voice proved him right.
"Look, you have no idea who you're talking to. Go to your girlfriend or whomever you were going to—or were those flowers for a friend or a deceased?"
Alfred was quiet for a moment. He did not know who this man was.
"I don't know you," he admitted, "My name is Alfred. Be my Valentine?"
A choked sob was heard and for some reason Alfred felt his heart break. The stranger shook his head violently, his hair fraying at the ends and flying in all directions. The bundle of flowers in Alfred's hands were offered, he stretched an arm out. The flowers were ignored.
The stranger had started walking away without a goodbye.
Alfred went to shout his name only to realize he hadn't a clue what his name was. "Where are you going?" he settled for.
He received no answer. He heard the footsteps speed up as the stranger ran. Alfred ran as well.
Where they were going didn't matter, only that he'd get there. He couldn't leave this man alone, not that he had a clue why. He was entranced by him.
They had made it out of trees and into another clearing near a cliff.
It was then Alfred realized the stranger's pace wasn't slowing. He wasn't going to stop.
"D-Don't do this!" cried he; the words fell on deaf ears.
Alfred lunged forwards, tackling the stranger to the ground to keep him from running. He had him pinned under him, having a clear look at his distraught face. His eyes were red and puffy from crying and his cheeks were tear stained.
"I want to die! I want to die! I want to die!" the stranger repeated over and over, shaking his head as tears fell from his chin.
Alfred's heart ached and twisted.
"Don't say that," he choked out, holding him in an embrace.
"How can you try to comfort me? You don't know me! You don't know me at all! What do you care if I die? What does anyone care if I die?" the stranger sobbed.
"Please just give this a chance," Alfred requested.
"Give what a chance?" came the shouted response.
"I-I don't know, but just don't kill yourself."
The air fell silent and the only sound was the soft sniffling of the stranger.
"These are for you," Alfred said softly, sitting up and offering him the flowers.
"You didn't know me before today. How are they mine?" And after the longest time, he spoke again. "My name is Arthur."
He took the flowers.