4 August 2012 - 5:51 PM
How's it going bros?
Well, I was looking on my deviantart for Pewdiepie fanfiction (I regret nothing) and I saw on my feedback thing/the place where people can message me/that place there (points) and I saw that someone desired the sceond part to I See You
You know, the story with blind Alfred that I wrote for Sweethearts Week. The sad one.
Well, something happy happens, don't worry. I like this universe for some reason :)
Title: A Sight to Behold
Rating: M
Warnings: Blind Alfred :(, Delinquent/Former Prostitute Arthur, Human! AU, Translation of a Spanish song to English, Love-making :)
Song: Combatiente (Fighter) by Mana
If you haven't heard Mana, I strongly recommend that you do. QuQ They're wonderful.
This one-shot is dedicated to kpsaca who messaged me on deviantart about putting up the next chapter to this storyline. Thank her :)
A Sight to Behold
Alfred let himself relax on the way to work, hearing Arthur change the station to more mainstream music to country, just something to listen to.
Hey, I just met you
And this is crazy
-zz-
Put your hands up
You're rocking in my truck
-zz-
Arthur sighed, turning it off. There wasn't a lot of good, meaningful music these days.
"Maybe you should send yours in." The Brit blinked. He had said that outloud, of course.
"Yep, you did." At the next red light, Arthur smiled at Alfred, who was leaning against the door a bit. His face was contorted in discomfort.
"Alfred... Are you okay?" Alfred closed his unseeing eyes.
"My head hurts, Artie." In the years that he and Alfred had been together, the blue-eyed man had only been sick twice, with a simple rhinovirus, the annoying bug. Arthur had a worse immune system. Pneumonia, influenza, a instance of scarlet fever that Alfred managed to pay off the hospital bill for not too long ago, about a month or so.
Alfred paused for a moment and smiled when Arthur's hand wrapped around the one that wasn't holding his briefcase in his lap, calloused hands meeting slightly softer flesh and radiating heat and love in the simple touch.
"I can drive you back." Alfred shook his head and brought up Arthur's hands to his lips.
"No, I'm fine. I'm just a bit tired, I guess. Since you kept me up two days ago," the blind one said, smirking coyly. It had been on Sunday, the day after Arthur had sung that beautiful song, that Alfred had realized that the day prior had been their anniversary.
And Arthur always said that he wasn't a romantic. Romantic with a capital R, yes, but never in terms of love.
What a silly man he'd married.
It was 9:00 AM. Arthur was sitting in his college class for today. A simple one, Music 132. Song writing class. Thankfully, this counted towards his music major. The assignment that the teacher was currently handing back had been to write a self-empowering song.
Bitch, please. He was Arthur Kirkland.
But... he hadn't dug this from his own mind, the basis of the song.
He had been talking to Alfred.
The older male had let the younger dominate him completely, which was a bit awkward as Arthur had offered to put a blindfold on, to experience sexual intimacy as Alfred did. It was wonderful. Every sound, scent, touch was all that of his boyfriend's. Those youthful hands, those that cared for children, adolescents, and infants, cradled his own body, guiding him and being guided by him from something such as rolling on the condom to the deep intimate touch of letting the other come inside of him, breaching every barrier he had set up since he was a boy. This silly sixteen-year-old was making him quake, shudder, cry out like no one else had ever done, would ever get to do. To think that the simple cloth that Arthur had removed from his eyes immediately after release to kiss the other senseless could cause so much... sense heightening.
Alfred was snuggling into Arthur's chest. The twenty-year-old pet his head.
"Tell me about yourself, Alfred."
"Hmm..." Sleepy, glassy eyes looked towards his face. "What do you want to hear?"
"Anything. What about when you were younger?"
Alfred looked thoughtful as he pursed his lips a few times.
"I wanted to be a football player when I was younger. I was actually playing football when... I had my accident." He gestured towards his eyes.
Arthur frowned. He hadn't meant to make his love feel bad. He drew circles in his back.
"Tell me something else."
"Umm... I don't have much else to say. I know that once I did go blind and they said that I could possibly see again someday, my parents pushed me really hard to overcome my-" Alfred put air quotes around his next words with his free hand "- 'attention issues'."
Arthur frowned. "They thought you pretending to be blind?"
"They thought I could get over it. Psychological trauma is what the doctors presented as a reason for me not being able to see again. My dad has been on the SWAT team for a long time. Before that, he was a soldier. He's used to shooting his gun, killing someone, and coming back without making a big deal of the blood on his hands. I could never do that, but Dad wanted me to go to the Army, continue on the family's history of serving our country. He was counting on the government to pay for my college, too." Alfred felt Arthur's muscles tense beneath him. He came close and pressed a kiss against his lover's cheek.
"It doesn't bother me at all, though," he said smiling. "I've learned to be strong for myself. Mom was so happy when I could finally get myself dressed and look presentable for school, not having anything mismatching and stuff. Dad still yells at me for stuff that I can't do, like being able to drive myself places or join the Army now.
"None of that matters, though." Alfred curled against Arthur again, loving the warmth and security. "I'm a fighter. I'll get through it."
Arthur pulled him closer. "You won't be alone, Alfred."
Alfred buried his face in the junction of the older man's neck and shoulder. Arthur felt the other's face become even warmer, and he knew Alfred was blushing.
"Thank you."
He saw the lovely 93% gracing the top of his paper, for a few missing clef notes. He loved this class.
It was something he was truly good at.
Mr. Germania continued on with his lecture from last week about stressing the emotions of a song.
"They are not simply produced. Only sing what you truly feel. Or else it's like reciting a passage from a rocket science textbook when you are a child in grammar school. You might be able to say that it sounds right, but you will not understand it."
It was 12:00 PM. Alfred was reading one of the new cases that he'd been assigned, fingers carefully reading the Braille right to left. A little girl, who had been left by her father for a week, was being brought into Social Services due to the girl being severely malnourished. The father showed evidence of having sent the girl to stay with a family friend in town for that week, but it appeared that she had gone back home and stayed there, just waiting for her father. Psychological assessments were pending, but they wanted Alfred to talk to her. For one reason in particular.
She couldn't see all that well, registered as legally blind. The father couldn't afford the cost of her eye prescription. Alfred would set that right.
The girl came in. Her name was Bridget.
"Hey, Bridget." Alfred let the girl's escort, his co-worker Kiku, take his hand to meet the girl's, shaking her hand. She turned her head towards the blonde, the shifting of fabric signaling to Alfred that she hadn't seen his face, couldn't see his face.
"Don't let them take Daddy away. I... I was just scared. He's never left me anywhere alone before." Alfred smiled softly at her.
"Don't worry, missy. We'll make sure you and your father stay together. We'll get something to help you see better, too." Kiku smiled at the scene. These too couldn't see each other, but Bridget stood up and walked over to Alfred, gripping his hand more tightly and laying a hand on his thigh, seeking support. Alfred brought up his other hand, missing his mark and bumping her forehead before trailing his hand up and stroking her hair.
"Really? Daddy said we couldn't afford it."
Alfred laughed. "We'll get the funds, honey. A pretty child like you should see everything the world has to offer, even if I can't."
Bridget pouted and blinked a few times, quickly. "You can't see at all? I can see shapes and colors. You can't see them?"
He carefully took both of her hands and placed them over his eyes. "I used to be able to. I remember shapes and colors, but think of this. You still have the chance to see the world, like I said before. Can you tell us why you left your dad's friend's house so you both can get the help you need, sweetie?"
Kiku saw her bit her lip, before she nodded and said, "Yeah," remembering that Alfred couldn't see her at all.
Alfred smiled. "Thank you, dear." He held one of her hands to Kiku again, prompting the Japanese-American to take her hand.
The two spoke back and forth, talking about her life at home, the conversation recorded of course. Once Bridget left - to get glasses so she could see for the first time in years -, Alfred leaned back and closed his eyes. He'd never seen any of the children that came through, ones for adoption.
He wanted a child so badly, but would they ever put up with a father that couldn't see?
His head was hurting so badly.
It became 11:00 AM.
Arthur went straight to work after class ended at 10:30 AM. Monday through Friday, eight hours a day, 11:00 to 7:00 PM. Alfred would greet him at home with a smile. Life could be monotonous, but he loved it all the same.
He served the plates of linguini alfredo, canadian bacon and cheddar crêpes, and shrimp kabobs.
The clock ticked on.
It became 4:00 PM.
Arthur's cell phone, which was in the communal phone box in the boss's office, began to ring.
It became 4:10 PM.
The boss's phone rang. Feliciano Vargas, adopted Italian son of an immigrant Spanish man, came to answer his phone.
"Hello. This is Vargas speaking," he greeted in a somewhat cheery, polite tone of voice.
"Hello, Mr. Vargas. I am Yao Wang. I am looking for an Arthur Kirkland-Jones."
"Arthur?" He blinked. Was something wrong that Arthur hadn't told him about?
"Yes, is he available? The contact information said that he was an employee at your restaurant."
Feliciano called Arthur into his office, letting him serve the desserts. The green-eyed man never approved of leaving his work unfinished.
"Yes, Mr. Vargas?"
"I've told you to call me Feliciano, and someone's on the phone for you. A 'Wang Yao'."
Arthur's eyebrows furrowed. He picked up the receiver as Feliciano walked out of the room.
"Hello. This is Arthur."
"Mr. Kirkland-Jones?"
"Yes."
"This is Yao Wang. I am the charge nurse for the ICU at the General Hospital." Shivers went up and down Arthur's spine.
"For what purpose are you calling, Mr. Wang?" God, he could taste the nervousness in his voice.
"Your husband, Alfred, fainted at work. He's been unresponsive since. We've attempted your cell phone only a while ago, but you didn't answer."
Arthur felt the sick pressure of fear in his stomach.
"I..."
Feliciano knocked on the door. "Arthur?"
The blond looked at his young boss. "Alfred's in the hospital."
Feliciano told him to leave. "Alfred's such a nice man. Don't let him go." Not after I let my first love leave me.
It was 6:51 PM.
Arthur was still waiting for Alfred to wake up. He held his love's hand tenderly, closely. He couldn't lose him. The best part of his life had been when Alfred was with him, smiling at him, making stupid jokes, complaining about how the audio-descriptions of the Harry Potter movies missed something from the books...
Making love for the first time.
All the times after.
Listening to music together...
"I wrote a song for you... From the story you told me such a long time ago..." He closed his eyes and remembered the words he had written along with the song that he had already sung to Alfred. He sang it like a lullaby, unlike how he had thought of it, but it was for Alfred.
Since birth, they directed my dreams
everything was their imposition
Since childhood, they controlled what I thought;
they killed my illusions
What doesn't kill me
Makes me stronger today
To be a fighter, makes me stronger today,
Today, today
And I never wanted to be equal
I never felt like being part of the flock
Thinking so differently today
Has me feeling lively, strong
I'm a fighter, no one's going to stop me
I'm a fighter, nothing's going to stop me
No, no
I'm a fighter, I'm a survivor;
What didn't kill me made me stronger
We all appear to be mass-produced
Like programmed clones and just used
They're always imposing on us
What to think, whom to fuck, what to love, to pray, to trample on.
I'm a fighter, no one's going to stop me
I'm a fighter, nothing's going to stop me
No, no
I'm a fighter, I'm a survivor;
What didn't kill me made me stronger.
Submission is what kills us, these impositions
They're whats going to kill us
It's better to respect your neighbors, to love
And to be a fighter
I'm a fighter, no one's going to stop me
I'm a fighter, nothing's going to stop me
No, no.
I'm a fighter, a survivor;
What didn't kill me made me stronger
I'm a fighter, a survivor;
What didn't kill me made me stronger
Arthur kissed Alfred's hand.
"I remembered when you told me of how you grew up from being blind. You said you became more mature. I believe that, but you still smile at everyone you meet, stay hopeful through anything." He closed his eyes.
"Don't leave me, Alfred. Be healthy, all right? I... You made me stronger. Don't leave me alone again..."
"... When you put it that way, remember that I made a promise forever." Arthur looked up and saw blue eyes looking tiredly at him.
"Promise?"
"'Beyond death, even then we shall not part'," he said, quoting what they had said at their wedding.
Arthur pressed the call button for the nurse. As Arthur stood to go get a cup of water, Alfred gripped Arthur's hand tightly in his own.
"What, dearest? What's wrong?"
And then Arthur realized that Alfred was looking at him.
At him.
"... Your eyes are so pretty, Arthur."
4 August 2012 - 8:14 PM
QuQ I didn't expect it to go like this at all, guys. (hugs self)
I took some liberty with the translation of Combatiente here. I like keeping the rhythm of the lyrics the same, leading to added words and added meanings. Forgive me please.