Choices

:U:

"Make the decision, make it with confidence, and the world will be yours."

- Jaren L. Davis

:U:

It was well into the evening when Alfred finished his closing shift at Cornelius' Chicken Shack, missed his ride home, and witnessed something unbelievable. He saw him more than a block away, just over the bridge, where Arthur had no business to be and he had no expectation of seeing him. There was no wind, no lightening, no thunder, no awful or unwanted circumstance to heighten his chances of seeing such a ghostly apparition. Yet he was there. He was there with his silly little pipe that always made him seem older than he was, just dangling from his lips, a hand resting on the corner he was to turn like it was his only support.

Before the accident Alfred had been in habit, every evening before the sun set, of setting forth with his fishing pole and a styrofoam cup of coffee. He would wander those long three miles into town by foot and set up at the end of the bridge, his personal paradise, and fished until the sky turned dark.

Every evening in this spot he would meet Arthur Kirkland, a lithe and gruff man, an impassive banker that indulged in his special pipe and only smoked the finest tobacco. They would often spend this time together side by side, occasionally chatting- even though Alfred did most of the talking— watch the sunset, share a few stories and it hadn't been long before a warm friendship was formed.

But Alfred didn't do those things anymore without his best friend. And he certainly didn't see dead people waiting for him on the other side of the overpass. His grip tightened on the sack slung over his shoulder, gaze intensifying at the shadowed figure. A blink and the blonde head had turned the corner.

There wasn't a moment's hesitation as Alfred dashed across the bridge. And just as his foot collided with the paved arch, the nearby town clock chimed a chilling midnight call. "Arthur!," he cried out, unnerved.

The sound of his heart hammering and the squeak of his sneakers slapping wet puddles were the only two noises that he could distinguish as he flew across the slippery sidewalk. When he finally crossed and swung himself around the corner, he was taken aback when he nearly ran into the one he was pursuing.

Arthur was standing there like he had been months ago, a smug grin tickling his pale lips.

"I knew you would come if you caught a glimpse of me." Arthur breathed out slowly, plucking the pipe from his lips to blow a smoky ring into Alfred's aghast face.

Alfred choked on the bundle of emotion that constricted his throat. "Y-You're dead." He whispered, a befuddled blue gaze searching his deceased friends visage. He had to be imaging this all..

A short laugh escaped the ghost and he put the pipe out before stuffing it into the breast pocket of his brown business suit. "Well aren't you observant, Alfred. I know that I'm dead, no need to rub it in."

"But, this can't be happening. I was just visiting our place..Oh God-" Alfred look stricken. "I'm dead too, aren't I!?"

Arthur chuckled, an amused sound that Alfred swore he would never hear again. "You aren't dead, just let me finish!" The Englishman replied, a hand resting on the younger man's broad shoulder. Alfred jumped from the shock of it. It wasn't a cold touch like he had expected (not that he had been expecting any of this in the first place) but it was solid and warm, almost as if he was alive again!

There was a deep exhale as his friend seemed to mull on his reply. Arthur hesitantly lifted a hand and waved it towards the direction Alfred had just came. "This is the spirit realm, Alfred. Once you crossed the bridge, you exited the land of the living. And when the clock strikes midnight, it sucks whomever happens to be on the bridge into our world."

Alfred's face was still a mask of pale horror. Snorting, Arthur held the hand up before he could be interrupted. "You aren't stuck here, Alfred. You can leave with the sun rises. Just think of this as a visit."

It took a second for his mind to process the information, a deliberate breath slowly exhaling from his restricted diaphragm. "So, this is all real? I can spend the night with you like old times?" Alfred chewed the inside of his lip uncertainly, boyish features focused intently on the other man. He couldn't understand why this was happening to him of all people.

It was Arthur's turn to look uncertain. "Well, I suppose it would be nice to actually interact with you. It has been six months after all." Suddenly Arthur's face contorted into an irritable scowl and he socked a mean hook to Alfred's shoulder. "Six months! Are you a bloody fool? You haven't came by once since then!"

A surprised cry rang through the frigid night, "Ow! You didn't have to punch me that hard! How was I suppose to know you'd be here?! I just got off work and…missed the bus, so I thought I'd come to see my spot before I headed home, yanno?"

"No wonder you reek of grease and chicken." Arthur replied smugly, guiding Alfred over to a nearby street bench. It was there they sat, conversing and catching up on little things, until the sun just barely began to peek from the horizon. It had been a short couple of hours, compared to the months they'd been separated.

And when Arthur finally noticed the homely hues of lavender and fuchsia swirling into the night sky, a sad frown creased his brow and he gave Alfred's hand a quick pat. "You should leave now. You probably have work today." He finally murmured, casting a longing glance back towards the bridge.

Alfred nodded thoughtfully, his shoulder's slumping. "Yeah, I always have work. That's all I do is work, actually. I had to quit school a month after you died because I couldn't keep up with tuition and my scholarship wouldn't cover it. I barely make enough to pay rent with." He sighed, offering his friend a small smile.

"Alfred, that aeronautics program was your life! What about your dream of becoming a pilot?" Arthur pressed, clearly upset by this news. He certainly hadn't been expecting anything of the sort and if he had only told him he needed help while he was alive, he could have assisted him in someway!

The American just gave a meek shrug. "I'm just a slummy city boy, Arts. I don't have nothing but my name."

"That's rubbish." Arthur gave him a peeved glare. "You have me. We've been friends since I moved into the city four years ago. Do you call that nothing?" Alfred opened his mouth to response, but promptly closed it again. He did have a point.

Arthur released a soft sigh, patting Alfred's thigh. "Anyways, love, you should leave or you'll be stuck until tomorrow morning." Once the sun peeked, the wall divided the living from the dead again and wouldn't allow anything back in until the following evening. There had been many humans that had accidentally lost themselves in the spirit realm. It was so similar to the one of the living, most of them didn't realize what had happened until someone couldn't see them.

Alfred's face contorted in thought, then a broad smile stretched across his lips when an idea came to him. "I'm staying."

Arthur sputtered, flying to his feet. "Excuse me?" He spewed, staring down to Alfred in disbelief. Alfred just presented him with that same forbearing smile, holding his head up confidently.

"Well, I have a choice to leave or stay until the next day. Who's to say I can't just stay here with you for however long I like?" Alfred chimed, holding his hand out for Arthur. Green eyes just stared at it, his own raising with apparent hesitancy, gently intertwining with those sunbathed fingers.

"You're a blooming idiot." Arthur muttered under his breath, he swore he could feel his stilled heart beat with happiness. With a delighted cry at his affirmation, Alfred jumped up as well and enveloped Arthur into his arms, sharing a lung crushing hug with him. Maybe one of these days, he'll finally build up the courage to tell Arthur about that crush he'd always had on him. It didn't have to be anytime soon. They did have eternity after all.

"We can be best friends forever!"

:I:

AN- Deviel~