A/N: Spontaneous fic. Alfred's POV. Established JoKer relationship.
Whatever happened to happy endings?
I always thought that once you were able to finally get together with the one you like (or even dare say, love), then life would become all unicorn and rainbows. What happened to the first few weeks of the relationship, where the two of us would see life through rose colored eyes? Where did the happy times go, where the only arguments were about few insignificant squabbles and end as quickly as they started? What happened to the days where we would just sit in silence, side by side, your head on my shoulder as we watch the sea of people walk past us?
Where did those days go?
I should have known. Of course I knew that arguments would be inevitable. That relationships, no matter how, how right they seemed, that no matter how much you love the person, would always have its obstacles.
I just didn't know how hard these obstacles would be.
I love Arthur. While we are only in our teenage years, I truly believe he is the only one for me. While many view him as a studious, stick-up-the-ass, angry Brit, I see differently. Sure he seems mad all the time, but he has so many cute quirks. Deep inside, he is a softy, though I dare say I do love his fiery side.
Maybe I was a bit too headstrong. Or we were just equally as stubborn. But as our small fights began to escalate, I started to wonder what I was doing wrong.
It seemed to me, that whenever Arthur would get mad at me (which was sadly very often now-a-days), it was always my fault. Even though I am acting as I usually am, I would inadvertedly say or do something that would offend him. So for the rest of the day, if not more, I would keep my distance from him, wondering what the hell I did this time.
And then, the one day I finally didn't act as my usual happy go lucky self. The one day I was too tired, and Arthur this time did things that made me angry at him, it turns out that it was my fault too. Because I acted out on my feelings, he had a bad day which created a ripple affect. In the end, we both had a bad day, and it was my fault for not informing him sooner that I was going to be a little off.
Somewhere in my mind, that little piece of me is saying this time it was not my fault. I had every right to be angry at Arthur for bringing up past luggage. The whole past event was over and done with, yet he would continually bring it up, as to remind me of my mistake. A foolish mistake that I guess I'll be paying back for the rest of my life. But really, what's done is done.
And what angers me even more is that the way he brings it up makes it seem like he was the victim. Was he the one who finally had to go up to his very religious parents and tell them that I was gay? Was he the one who had to endure the ridicule under the scrutinizing eyes of relatives with nowhere to escape? Was he the one who had to see how disappointed, angry, and sad his parents were after this news, him with an accepting dad?
Maybe I'm being a little selfish. But it really seems like I had to endure the lot of it. Yet he brings it up over and over again, as if I caused him great pain.
I acknowledge that I did hurt him, because I didn't inform him ahead of time that I was going to come out of the closet to my parents. But really, even I didn't know until the time came.
But almost every single time, I let it slide. I kept any pang of guilt and hurt I had inside of me whenever he brought it up. I would playfully punch his shoulder, laughing it off, and saying sorry again and again.
It really hurts, knowing that my parents still don't see me the same way. I'm just lucky that they haven't disowned me at this point. I really do miss the days when I had a great relationship with my parents. I don't think that relationship will ever come back.
Regardless, I kept it all in. Except this one time. I didn't even yell at Arthur. I just shook my head and shrugged off his attempt of contact.
And then once again, it is my fault for giving him a bad day because of that.
I just... I just don't know anymore. I love Arthur so much. And we've been able to patch up all our past arguments before.
What hurts now, is that this time, he never mentioned that he still loves me. Before, he never failed to even hint that he still cared about me, no matter how angry he was at me. But this time, not one word, hint, or insuation of that sort.
I don't know how to conduct myself in front of him anymore. Whenever I act my happy self, I seem to do something wrong. The one time I acted out on my feelings, I still did something wrong. Should I just stop talking when around him, just stay silent with a smile no matter what happens? Would I then bring him happiness?
Because I love him so much. All I want to do is bring him happiness.
At this point where that is the least I do, what does that mean? What should I do then?
Where did the simplicity of love go?
A/N: Times like these really makes me wish love was simple. Ah, youth. What an illusion.