An entire week.
It had been an entire week since Alfred F. Jones had given a hug to Arthur Kirkland.
Or kissed him.
Or held his hand.
Or cradled his cheek in his palm.
Or whispered "I love you" into his ear.
Or any other such loving gestures which brought Arthur such comfort. And now, since the Briton was not being comforted by a touch from American lips or American hands, he was much discomforted.
Alfred was not one to avoid touch. He was a creature of touch. He lived on it; he thrived on it; it was his sustenance. Sometimes he would march up to Arthur out of nowhere, tilt his head up from the book he was reading or the tea he was sipping, kiss him passionately, and then smile and say "Just needed to recharge" before wandering off to do whatever he was doing. He did such things about every other day. Or, at least, he used to. It could just be that Alfred was no longer in need of a recharge or just didn't need it so much, or he finally listened to Arthur when he yelled after his retreating form that he's "not a bloody battery"…Or perhaps it was time for Arthur to start getting suspicious.
Now that Arthur finally sat down to think about it (he had decided to give this odd behaviour at least a week before deciding that it wasn't just a fad), Alfred's routine had been different. He had been less romantic with Arthur, he had been going out far more often…Goodness, they hadn't talked as much either. Usually, after a hard day's work, they would settle down, with cola and tea in tow beside a plate of biscuits, and just talk about everything and bicker about nothing, and vice versa. Now Arthur was struggling to recall the last time Alfred had properly looked at him. Nowadays Alfred stole a brief glance as he got in from work before thundering up the stairs to get changed, and then he'd glance again as he left to go out to God knows where, and then Arthur would only see him from behind sleepy eyes as the American stumbled in at an ungodly hour in the morning to sleep, and Arthur would be ready to shout at him in the morning for being so late to come home, but he wouldn't be able to for Alfred would already be gone when he awoke.
Arthur nervously bit down on his lip, for he didn't want to but maybe…if it was like this…it was time to consider that Alfred may perhaps be…cheating on him? He really didn't want to think of such a thing, for Alfred didn't seem the type (he was the self-proclaimed hero after all), but it was not unusual for one to start to worry about this conclusion under these circumstances, was it? No, not at all. Arthur was allowed to be worried – he was a part of Alfred's life, and so, should know about it. But did he want to? Did he want for this worry to turn out true? God, Alfred had really become etched into his heart, and were he to be torn out…No, that's not how it goes. Alfred would always be an etching in his heart – stuck there for Arthur to dwell on forever. But Arthur to Alfred? Was he anything to the man? He had never doubted that he meant something before, but now with the lack of contact he had reason to doubt.
Arthur cursed himself. Instead of worrying and thinking about these things, shouldn't he just ask the man of his concerns himself? Sure, most of the time a cheater would lie and say "No, I'd never do that to you" or something along those lines, and they'd continue to lie as they pretend to love you, but if Alfred at least faltered or looked around awkwardly as Arthur asked then that would be enough. Alfred had always been a shit liar, and Arthur knew it after all those years being together…being in love, if Alfred had ever truly loved him.
Arthur looked out of the window, at the red sky and the sun dying down like an aging flame to make room for the moon to spread its gentle beams and illuminate the clouds that drift past it on the dark, cold night, and he took a steadying breath to try and prepare himself. He wouldn't delay this matter. A week had been enough, and anymore time would just be dawdling. He quickly checked the clock on the mantelpiece, needing to take another steadying breath when he realised that it was coming alarmingly close to the time which Alfred usually came home. He felt terrible for it, but he prayed to the clock to slow down and give him more time – just a little more time – to sort everything out in his head – the questions, the answers, the flow of the conversation, the suspicious signs – everything. Alas, he didn't have time to sort anything out. The clock must not have been listening, or it was having a good laugh at Arthur's situation, as time seemed to accelerate at an alarming speed, and the sun hadn't even dispersed when Arthur heard the front door open.
He listened with bated breath and an unsteady heart as the familiar sounds of Alfred hanging his keys up and sighing as he slipped his shoes off came from the hallway. Arthur sighed too as he steadied himself for the last time, and his heart missed a beat as he saw Alfred steal a glance at him as he passed the doorway, scurrying on in an attempt to hurriedly get up the stairs, most probably to the bedroom where he would get changed into casual attire and go out. Not this time though.
"Alfred!" Arthur croaked, furrowing his brows because he didn't want to draw attention to himself in this way. He never used to have to, for it seemed that Alfred's whole world circulated around the Briton for all the attention he gave him. But what with this attention having stopped so abruptly, Arthur was forced to grab it back for once.
It was quiet at first, and the ticking off the clock had never resounded so loudly as it laughed at Arthur.
Tick-tock.
Tick-tock.
Ha-ha.
Ha-ha.
And then Alfred came back, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen and plastering an awkward smile to his face.
"T-that's my name, don't wear it out." he stuttered, licking his lips. Arthur frowned. Alfred never stuttered unless he had something to hide or feel guilty of.
Arthur took in a shaky breath before asking "Where have you been?"
"Work." Alfred replied, smiling that fake smile still.
"No, I mean where have you really been. All week; when you go out in the evenings and don't come back until the early hours of the morning."
Alfred took pause at that before he once again shrugged and looked around cumbersomely, and Arthur's heart palpitated, "Just around, you know."
"No," Arthur shook his head, "no, I don't know."
Alfred shrugged again and shuffled his feet across the kitchen tiles, his azure gaze directed at the cracks in them.
"Where have you been?" Arthur repeated, sterner this time.
"A lot of places."
"I want specific places." Arthur leant back in his chair to show that he was ready for long stories.
Alfred continued to stare at the floor and shoved his hand in his back pocket, "I went to see Mattie. We watched some films. And I've also had gaming nights at Gilbert's place. And Feli invited me for an Italian night with him and Ludwig, and, well, you know how I love an Italian." He chuckled, but Arthur didn't even smirk.
"Is that the truth?"
"Yeah."
"So if I phoned Matthew and Gilbert and Feliciano and Ludwig then they could confirm that you have been spending time with them this week?"
"Totally."
Arthur nodded his head in contemplation, but that wasn't enough for him. He wasn't done. "Why haven't you spent any time with me this week?"
He paused again, and Arthur bit his lip.
"W-we've spent time together. I see you in the morning and the afternoon and night time."
"Yes, Alfred," Arthur sighed, vexed, "you've seen me at those times, but have you even bothered to talk to me or touch me or associate with me in any way?" Now it was Alfred's turn to bite his lip as his eyes roved over more floor tiles. "Now I'll ask you again, why haven't you spent any time with me this week?"
Alfred shifted from foot to foot and he gazed up at the clock on the mantelpiece. Maybe he was wishing the opposite from the Briton, wishing that time would speed up and get him away from the Englishman quicker. Arthur cringed at the thought.
"Because of…stuff, you know."
Arthur sighed again, "No, Alfred, I don't bloody know; that's why I'm asking you." He shrugged again, and Arthur snorted at his behaviour. He was faltering, like Arthur's panicked heart, and he was acting awkward. In this case, was he lying to him? Did he have something to hide? Was he cheating? "Look at me." Arthur asked of him when he still refused to look him in the eye. He had been avoiding his gaze all week, and now that they were finally having a conversation he was acting like he was talking to the floor. Arthur wasn't standing for that.
He still didn't look, stubbornly focusing his line of sight on the floor tiles, probably wishing they'd swallow him up or some pathetic shit like that. Arthur got up from his chair and walked up to Alfred, stopping a few inches in front of him and fixing his cowering form with a glare. "Look at me." Arthur repeated, with a sharper edge to his tone, and Alfred's head snapped up at that.
Arthur took a selfish moment to himself just to stare into those eyes – those beautiful, bright, azure eyes which never failed to take his breath away. God, how he had missed them. The way they had looked into his own green eyes with such a sincere gaze; the way they had fixated so determinedly on a task which required his entire focus and being; the way that shone even when there was no light to make them do so; the way they roved over Arthur's body ravenously and made him feel as beautiful as those blue orbs. It was so nice to be looked at again.
"Are you cheating on me?" Arthur found himself asking, and he instantly regretted the timing of the question as those eyes flashed with shock, followed by anger and confusion.
"No!" he scoffed, seeming disgusted by the idea, "Why would you think that, Arthur? You know I love you!"
"I used to!" Arthur barked back, making Alfred visibly flinch. Arthur sighed and rested his head in his hands, "I used to know how much you loved me, but now I'm not sure anymore. Before, you used to confirm your love for me with words, and even without words I could tell just by a look. But now you don't even spare time to look at me, and I just…" Arthur sighed shakily, "…I just don't know anymore."
Now Arthur was the one not looking up, burying his mournful face in his hands where he could not see those cerulean eyes or sun-kissed face or golden locks and risk blubbering at the mere sight of the American. The clock continued to laugh, ruining what would otherwise be utter silence.
Tick-tock.
Tick-tock.
Ha-ha.
Ha-ha.
There was a rustling of clothing as Alfred moved before him, and then he felt a warm, familiar hand on his shoulder. Touching him, for the first time in a week, and Arthur almost became a pathetic mess on the floor and wept right there.
"I'm sorry, Arthur, if I made you doubt my feelings, but I honestly do love you – always have and always will."
"Then why haven't you shown it, like you usually would?" he sobbed, leaning into the touch.
"Because…" Alfred sighed this time, "…because I was told not to."
Arthur stopped.
And then he looked up at him, frustrated to see that he was avoiding his gaze again.
"Who?" Arthur asked him. He remained silent. "Who asked you not to?"
He shrugged (he seemed to be doing a lot of that), "Just a few of us were having a discussion after the meeting at work a few days ago, and…a few of them warned me that their past partners had gotten bored of their constant shows of affection and left them, so…they suggested that I lay off on the hugs and kisses and stuff with you if I wanted to…you know…keep you…"
Arthur just stood there, flabbergasted, "What?"
"I don't want you to get bored of me." Alfred breathed, "So I decided to cut down on shows of affection so that you'd appreciate them more when I actually gave them to you. But seeing you and knowing I couldn't touch you was unbearable, so I tried to stay away from you as much as possible before I lost control." he sheepishly grinned down at the stunned face of Arthur, "I was planning to be affectionate with you this weekend."
Arthur gasped as Alfred pulled a big, beautiful rose bouquet from behind his back, "Speaking of which, these are for you, my love." He pressed them into Arthur's shaking hands and pressed his lips to Arthur's forehead. Arthur couldn't hold it in then – petals flew as he briskly wrapped his arms around Alfred's neck and sobbed into the taller man's chest, with the American hushing his sobs and patting his back gently.
How could Arthur have thought that Alfred would ever cheat? He wasn't the type. He loved Arthur.
"Don't do that again! I could never get bored of you, idiot!" Arthur whimpered, hitting Alfred with one hand, but using the other to hold him close, "Don't you ever do that again! You had me worried fucking sick!"
Alfred just laughed at Arthur's weak hits and continued to shower his forehead with kisses which Arthur had missed so dearly, "Okay, I'll make sure to show you how much I love you every day."
Arthur looked up from his book as Alfred strode into the room, beaming brightly. He came to a halt by the Englishman, tilted his head up and kissed him deeply on the lips. Arthur complied, closing his eyes and trying to lift himself up slightly to catch those lips more. He had been deprived of a whole week of this, and he was trying to get back lost time. Alfred pulled away shortly, continuing to smile.
"Just needed to recharge." he chortled as he left the room to get back to whatever he was doing; Arthur neither knew nor cared.
"You're not a bloody battery!" he called back, but he did so with a smile of endearment on his face.
Author's notes: My friend, pie1313, came up with this idea and I was like "MUST. DO." So, here we are~
I must say, I absolutely adore how this turned out. And I hope my dearest pie1313 does too, and you guys, of course!
What's that you say? I made Arthur too feminine? Piss off! He's a feminine man. XD Sorry, Arthur. You kind of are.
Disclaimer: Alfred, Arthur, Matthew, Gilbert, Feliciano and Ludwig belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.
AnorexicWalrus~