((Just a quick note, I've already gotten a review of someone telling me that the events don't match the timeline of the actual date, and honestly I'm a little annoyed about it. I'm not angry at the person or anything, I'm just a bit perturbed that I did my research and I still got told that I'm wrong. Here. September 11th, 2001. Four Boeing 757 passenger planes were hijacked. Two hit the twin towers, one hit the pentagon, and one crashed in a field. The first plane hit the North Tower at 8:46am. Neither of the towers collapsed until 56 minutes. Now I may have gotten the fact that it was being news casted or whatever wrong, but I just felt like it made more sense for the plot for them to know that it happened but not know that it was coming towards them. But everything else is correct. Okay, enjoy now.))
It's 8:00am, and Alfred couldn't have wanted out of something more. Walking out of the elevator at his floor, he entered the stuffy office and gave a curt wave to the desk workers that typed away at their computers, working on things Alfred didn't know a thing about. He didn't even want to be here, but rent wasn't going to pay itself. So, making his way to his cubicle, he let out a forlorn sigh, the pungent scent of lemon cleaner and copy paper permeating into his nose. Taking a seat at his desk, he propped his feet up on the file boxes in the corner, flipping through his workload for the day.
Now, if there was anything worth coming to work for, it was his boss's amazingly stuffy taste in coffee that got them premium roast beans for their break room, and the cute intern that walked around during all, it seemed, of Alfred's exact hours. He never questioned it though, just glad that he could watch the cute blond scurry around looking focused and adorable. He'd tried talking to him numerous times, each time turning into a petty little argument over some random thing that they never remembered the next day, but each time, making no progress.
Today, however, said intern was walking around very slowly and tiredly, it seemed. Alfred couldn't help but watch him through the opening in his cramped work space, trying to read his face. He had huge bags under his eyes, and he was yawning every three seconds, his hands trembling slightly. It seemed he just hadn't gotten enough sleep. Well, that was nothing to be too concerned about!
Putting his folder down, Alfred stood and smoothed out his shirt and jacket, nodding to himself with impeccable resolution. Today was the day, the day when he would ask Arthur out on a real date. He'd been trying for weeks now, but every time, he either chickened out or they ended up bickering before he could ask. When he made his way over to the copier, he leaned against it and flashed Arthur a smile, hoping he could steel his resolve.
Arthur, however, was wishing this fool would leave him alone. Out of everyone in the entire office, why did the most irritating, loud, and overbearing man have to be this attached to him? But, in a way, he supposed, he was rather charming. He was gorgeous, at least. Funny, kind, helpful, he had a beautiful smile . . . but no! He couldn't be thinking these things! It was ALFRED, for God's sake. Sighing, he looked up at him over the rim of his reading glasses, raising a brow at his stupid grin.
"What can I do for you, Alfred?" he asked, pulling his stack of papers into his arms after making sure of the count. As much as he wanted to use the excuse that he was working to get Alfred to leave, he knew it wouldn't work.
"I just have a question for you!" Alfred, being the ever exuberant person he was, bounced around the copier to follow Arthur down the hallway.
Arthur was already fed up with him, not even sure what could be so important that it must be asked now. He was trying to get a real job here, not waste his time chatting with someone incompetent. Even though Alfred did have a cute bouncy air about him, and a devilishly handsome face, he was, nonetheless, obnoxious. This fact alone was enough for Arthur to be able to suppress some quite irresponsible and very cheesy thoughts he'd been having lately, trying his damndest to deny them.
"What is your question? It better be important, Alfred. I have a lot to do today and I'd like better to do it without you at my heels like an overly needy house cat." He murmured, looking through his pile to sort the stacks into their respective inboxes.
Laughing nervously, Alfred scratched at his neck, trying to find the words that would sound least strange. He wasn't even entirely sure Arthur was gay, bisexual, or any variation of sexuality that would put him as attracted to men, so he was taking a shot in the dark. Before he could speak, though, Arthur started moving past him again and interrupted his silence with more of his enticingly repetitive sarcasm.
"Alfred F. Jones, it is 8:30 in the bloody morning and I am exhausted, so please, ask me what you want to ask and then be out of my hair please."
"Uh well, I was just wondering if, maybe, you'd like to go to dinner with me tomorrow night? I know this really nice place in downtown, like, suit and tie, expensively nice, and I want to . . . take . . . you." He stammered, trailing off when he saw Arthur's disbelieving expression. Panic started to bloom in his chest, fearing that he'd said something to make the other angry, but was replaced with frustration when a tiny incredulous laugh escaped Arthur's mouth.
"Early morning is no time for jokes. Now if you're done fooling around, please, leave me to my work." He had to be kidding right? Alfred was asking him out . . . on a date? Was it even a date? Or did he just want someone to go with him so he could stuff his gob? But he'd said it was a nice place, so maybe he wasn't joking. Something inside of Arthur fluttered at the prospect of a date with Alfred, actually finding the idea somewhat appealing. But he shooed the feeling away, not wanting to believe he was actually fond of him.
Alfred, however, felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. Why would Arthur think he was joking? It had taken him weeks to ask him, and he'd just been taken as a joke. It hurt, but he didn't show it, just giggling and waving his hand flippantly in front of his face before turning to walk away. "Okay, okay, fine. I'll leave you alone, then."
Arthur looked over his shoulder, feeling something akin to guilt burning his chest. He'd never gotten Alfred to leave that easily. Out of slight worry, he put his papers down with a sigh and followed after Alfred so he could at least make sure that he hadn't hurt his feelings. But, when he walked back into the offices, everyone was crowding around one of the secretary's computers watching something. Most of them seemed panicked, especially Alfred, who was standing near the back of the crowd with a look of fear on his face.
Curious, Arthur made his way over, tapping Alfred's shoulder to ask him what was going on. When the other turned to look at him, Arthur could see tears welling in his eyes. Well, that wasn't something he'd ever seen before, and his instincts took over as he pulled Alfred away from the crowd.
"What's going on?" he asked, his voice trembling a bit.
"Someone . . . someone hijacked four planes. They don't know where they're planning to go, but they say that they're probably planning to crash them. There are so many people . . ." he whispered, trailing off. He'd always loved his country and felt a strong sense of patriotism, the people of the country the most important to him. He couldn't bear the idea of people dying.
Arthur felt his body go numb. What a horrible thing. He couldn't help but keep his hold on Alfred's sleeve, wishing it wouldn't be awkward to comfort him. He was snapped out of his daze, though, when a few workers rushed to the windows on the North side, their gasps heard through the room. Blinking in confusion, he walked closer, Alfred in tow, and almost couldn't believe what he was seeing. He looked up at Alfred, and slid his hand down the other's sleeve to grasp his hand, wanting the tears to stop. They both knew what was happening.
Planes shouldn't be that low, not ever, especially not in New York City. Arthur heard Alfred sniffle and gave his hands a squeeze as they watched an unmistakable Boeing 757 flying towards the city, much too low.
Thirty seconds later, it felt like an earthquake struck, and Arthur tried to block out the screams and the sounds of tons of metal crashing into the floors below them. He felt Alfred pull him back as the large glass windows shattered, spraying glass all over them, and couldn't help but bury his face against Alfred's chest. It was terrifying, and a sudden wave of realization washed over him. Pulling away, he looked up at calm, but still crying Alfred.
"We're going to die, aren't we?" he whispered, trembling intensely.
Alfred just nodded slowly, his hands gripping Arthur's arms tightly. He knew as well as Arthur that it was inevitable. No one would be able to get up or down from these floors. There was just no way, and he knew it. He then made a decision, wanting to at least try to have some happy last moments.
"Arthur, jump with me." He said, looking into the emerald eyes pleadingly. He would rather die in mid air than burn or be crushed to death, and he would rather go with someone he cared about than on his own.
"I . . . I-I can't! I can't! I just-" He was cut off by a deep rumbling, knowing that the foundation and everything below them was burning and it would soon reach them as well. Gripping Alfred's hand, he looked over to the windows, the glass sparkling in the morning sunlight as the black smoke rose just outside. It would have been almost beautiful, if under different circumstances. Finally, he just nodded, his own tears starting to fall.
Reaching up, Alfred used his thumbs to wipe away Arthur's tears, having accepted their fate. He knew, and he accepted it, as long as he got the chance to tell Arthur everything.
"It wasn't a joke, you know. I've been trying for weeks to ask you, because I just want to be with you more than at the office. Can I have an answer? Please? I just want to know what you would have said."
"Yes . . . Yes, I would have gone with you." He said, trying to smile through a sob that escaped him. He'd been suppressing his feelings for much too long, denying that he found Alfred to be wonderful just silly, now that they were at this point. Another rumble brought him out of his thoughts again, and he clung to Alfred this time, terrified.
Alfred reached a hand up to comfort the other, running his fingers through blond hair. He noticed that soot and ash was already starting to cover them, drifting in from the broken windows. Pulling back, he cupped Arthur's cheeks in his palms, looking at him desperately.
"You're so beautiful, Arthur. Your eyes are gorgeous, your voice is amazing and I could listen to you talk for hours. I've always wondered what you like for breakfast because one day I wanted to be with you to cook for you, and drag you into Friday night movie marathons, and bring you on cheesy dates. I imagine sometimes that your lips taste like butter and cinnamon because you're always eating those damn scones and stealing my gum even though you think I don't notice." He rambled, wanting Arthur to know these things.
Blinking through the tears that had begun to fall heavier and heavier, he smiled as best as he could, leaning into the strong hands on his face. He had no time left to be foolish and deny things, everything he'd ever tried to suppress spilling out like a dam had broken.
"You bloody idiot . . . always traipsing around the office with your sunshiny hair and smile, and your cute slang that makes no sense, and calling me 'Iggy' all the time . . . And your skin and hands and eyes and everything about you, I'm so drowned by it all every day and I'm so sorry that I denied it for so long. I'm sorry that I made you wait and now there's no time left, I'm sorry Alfred, I'm sorry . . ."
And everything stopped. Because for a moment, it was just them and there were no screaming people and there was no fire, smoke, broken glass and broken hearts, because it was just them. Just Alfred, and just Arthur, and Alfred's hands wouldn't leave Arthur's face. If he was to have one last memory, he wanted it to be this person. This person's face, and his smile, though it was a sad smile was a smile nonetheless, was what he wanted to die with.
Arthur slowly leaned forward, burying his face back into Alfred's chest. His nose burned with ash and chemicals, and all he wanted was to be drowned in Alfred's scent. But he was pulled away again, and before he knew what was happening, he was being kissed. Kissed by soft, warm, and bittersweet lips that tasted of coffee and salt, and Arthur just melted against him. He couldn't help crying still, however, and his hands that gripped the lapels of Alfred's coat trembled.
After what seemed like hours, Alfred pulled away, looking down at Arthur and silently begging the fear to leave the shimmering eyes.
"Arthur, please smile for me. I just want to see you smile. Please." He whispered, stroking the tears aside with his thumbs, the smudge marks worsening.
Arthur complied, smiling gently as he placed his hands over Alfred's, leaning desperately into the touch. He wanted this forever, not understanding how he could have denied himself this for almost the entire year.
"We should go now, Alfred . . . It's going to collapse eventually . . ." he said, quiet and sad. But he'd accepted this just as much as Alfred by now, knowing that there was no other way.
Alfred nodded, giving Arthur a small smile. Clinging to each other, they made their way closer to the edge, the glass crunching under their feet and ringing in their ears just as much as the wind and screams and crumbling from below. It was terrifying, to look out over the edge from almost the highest floor in the building, but at the same time, it was comforting. They knew they wouldn't feel much of anything.
Wrapping his arms around his smaller counterpart, Alfred looked down at him and kissed his forehead before moving to his lips. He wouldn't go without at least another. After pulling away, he stared at Arthur's face for another minute before pulling him back against his body, close, closer.
Arthur was scared, but he tried to find sanctity in the warmth of Alfred's chest. His eyelashes floated closed against the other's neck as he inhaled his scent again, wanting to burn him into his memory and feel him against his entire being.
"You decide. Take me with you, anytime." He whispered against the other's shoulder, clinging to Alfred as his silent tears streaked soot covered skin. It didn't matter to him when they fell, as long as he wasn't alone when he went over.
"Arthur, I love you. And I'll see you later, okay?" he said, his arms secure around the lithe frame.
"I love you too. And I will be there waiting, wherever 'there' happens to be." He responded softly, a real smile coming forth this time. He found that he wasn't too afraid of death in this moment as he had been. He wasn't alone.
Suddenly, he felt Alfred pull him as close as possible, and he closed his eyes. Then, he was tilted, and the wind in his ears was deafening and he couldn't move his body, his heart pounding so fast that it hurt. He didn't scream, he didn't feel afraid, and he didn't cry anymore. He could feel himself losing consciousness already, and moments later, he opened his eyes and looked up, time slowing.
Alfred was already gone, his arms limp around Arthur's waist and his mouth slack. His hair whipped around his face and the sunlight filtered through, his skin aglow for just a moment. But a moment was all Arthur needed, and a moment was all he had.
Alfred died looking like an angel, and Arthur died looking upon one. Neither one felt their death, and they couldn't have asked for a better way. It wasn't ideal, and it wasn't beautiful, touching, or happy for anyone, Alfred and Arthur's parents learning of their children's tragic death and not understanding how this could happen, why this would happen. But for Alfred and Arthur, it was all of those things, given the circumstances.
Whether they met again, no one would know. No one would ever even know that they went together, cried together, feared together, and jumped together. No one but them. But that was okay. They knew.