Who is Arthur Kirkland? If you asked his colleagues, friends, family, or a complete stranger this question, they would most probably come out with different answers; because Arthur Kirkland can be many things. However, one thing most people — whoever they are — would most probably agree on is that Arthur Kirkland is a perfectionist.
This trait, of course, did not come out of nowhere. Years of constantly being compared to his three older brothers is one thing. His older brothers had always given outstanding academic performances. Arthur, not so much; at least back then. He was always that kid who was in the top five or three but never the first. Another thing is the result of said "rivalry" created by their own parents (perhaps, unconsciously): a low self-esteem and constant distrust. At the beginning of his junior high years, Arthur decided to change. He studied harder and subsequently excelled at his studies; managing to be the top of his class and elected class president throughout his junior high school education. At the end of his last year of junior high, he was even acknowledged as the best in his school.
Gone was the always-top-five-but-never-first Arthur, and what emerged was hardworking and dedicated Arthur. He had slowly built his own stellar academic reputation. He was finally making his parents proud, he thought. But alas, his parents were already used to be presented such achievement. They barely batted an eye and just dismissed him, saying that it was his responsibility to be that good. It was simply expected of him. At their response, Arthur swallowed down his pride and worked even harder. After all, it was still not enough. He was still not good enough. He needed to push his limits harder.
In the middle of his high school years, "harder" was steadily changing to "too hard". He stopped playing around altogether and isolated himself; quietly preparing himself to get perfect marks when he graduated. He was determined to be on top again, just like he did in junior high.
Arthur Kirkland was involved in an accident two months prior his deciding final examinations in his last year of high school. He broke his leg, found his vision slightly ruined, and an immediate surgery is needed. As he closed his eyes to a blissful unconsciousness, he could feel the world crumbling down around him. He could feel his dreams and resolve slowly slipping away through the grasp of his fingers.
(Everything was never quite the same after that.)
Arthur didn't manage to climb the ladder to the top in high school; but he still managed to get into one of the most prestigious universities in the country nonetheless. Of course, his major was something practical, admired and respected by many. His major was also something he thoroughly disliked.
But Arthur Kirkland never disobeyed his parents.
He was determined to be the perfect son, and he had let his parents down too many times now. He couldn't risk any more mistakes.
And he did not make any mistakes. Well, he had his fair share of bad moments, but those are not enough to be deemed as failures. He marched on. Even if he stumbled, he stood back up and kept marching on.
Some time in his sophomore year he began to realise something was amiss. Something felt terribly, terribly wrong, but he could not pin-point what. His marks had been much higher than average. He could be considered as one of the best in his year. Everything was going great.
(Right?)
At the end of his sophomore year, he was diagnosed with depression and anxiety disorder.
(Oh.)
But how could that be? He was perfectly okay. He was perfectly normal.
(Right?)
He frowned at his diagnosis result before averting his gaze to the psychiatrist in front of him.
(You need help, he said. And we can help you. You can be better.)
But I'm okay, Arthur insisted. I'm perfectly normal.
(No, you're not.)
You must be mistaken.
(No, please—)
Arthur stood up abruptly, wrinkled truth in his (trembling? Why was he trembling?) hand.
Thank you for your time. Goodbye.
(Keep walking straight, stare ahead, don't look back—
Run.)
Alfred F. Jones was focused into his view in his senior year. He was from the same year, but different major. They first met in summer when they were both volunteering in a community development programme held by the university. As it turned out, perhaps it wasn't their first meeting after all. Alfred went to the same high school as Arthur's, and their classes were so, so close together. Arthur wondered how he could miss someone like Alfred in all these years. Eventually, he couldn't help but wonder how many things had he missed while he was busy striving so hard to be the best.
The fall wasn't immediate. It wasn't love at the first sight; despite Alfred's model-like appearance. It took one fateful clear afternoon — approximately a month after they knew each other — one bike ride, several comfortable conversations and carefree laughters, a good look at the blue sky above which instantly reminded him of a particular American's irises, and his sudden desire to hug the said American's back when he was pedalling them back to the university after a small errand. It was only then, to his own surprise, Arthur felt he was truly, truly happy.
It was only then, he finally realised just how hard he had fallen for Alfred F. Jones.
And Arthur was scared. He was very, very scared. The volunteer programme they were in eventually ended. They had promised to stay in touch. And they did. Oh God, they did. They texted, and met up sometimes when they had the time. But why did his heart feel so weird? Why did it feel so hurt to see Alfred's smile and laugh, and why was the mere sight of the taller man was enough to send his mind into a chaotic mess?
Alfred deserved someone much better.
Arthur was not good enough.
Oh who was he kidding. He was never good enough for Alfred, he concluded bitterly, and he thought that he would never be.
So he started walking away. He stopped responding to Alfred's texts. He stopped responding to Alfred at all. He started doing what he realised he did the best.
Arthur Kirkland turned on his back and started running away.
Arthur Kirkland graduated university with flourish. No, he wasn't the top of his year, but he was pretty damn close. He had made peace about it with himself and his parents, who were becoming more and more understanding after he talked to them about mostly everything.
Mostly.
But the damage had been done. Arthur was Arthur today because of those transformative years. It was never been easy, oh no. He eventually decided to tell his family that he would like to continue his study, abroad. He felt that he needed some time away from where he came from and start over. He picked the USA as his primary destination.
That destination led his mind wander to a certain American with a pair of sky-blue eyes. He wondered if he would ever be forgiven. He wondered if there was anything to forgive at all. Taking a deep breath, he absent-mindedly took his phone and checked one of his social media accounts. He couldn't help but smile at the post right on top of his timeline. Biting his lip, he hesitated. After a moment of contemplation, he clicked on one of the smileys available to respond to the post and clicked the send button before he could change his mind. He spent the next hour rolling around in his bed scolding himself mentally because of course Alfred won't reply, of course Alfred won't even care, and other jumbled self-depreciating thoughts.
His negative thoughts were eventually proven unnecessary when an hour later, a matching smiley was displayed as a response, with a hopeful future offer of something much, much more.