"Ahahah! I still can't believe that worked, Arthur. I mean, I knew that Ludwig was easy to fool, but I didn't think it would be that easy. Good thing he did, though, that meeting was boring as heck."

Alfred sat in the passenger seat of Arthur's blue smart car. While he was a good head taller than his companion and originally had hated the strange European vehicle with no leg room, he finally started to get use to it after the many sessions in which they'd ridden together. The carpooling had been his mother's idea, to which Arthur had shown no physical signs of objection...not that he could verbally express it.

"But really, that fainting was legendary, man. You deserve an oscar."

Arthur gripped the wheel tightly in his hands, turning another corner silently on autopilot towards his house. Alfred had been right that the meeting of the "Exceptional Musicians", as they so politely called it, was more dull than usual, which is why he'd gone along with the theatrical stunt in the first place. He had to hand it to him, the way Alfred had dolled up Arthur's supposed nausea, rubbing his back and ironically helping lead him out of the music room of the old high school was quite effective. It really said something about your current state of health when you have to be assisted by a blind man.

"You must have picked up some acting talent while you were still a singer, huh?"

If Arthur could possibly grow more silent, he would have. He hoped that the lingering lack of any recognition of Alfred's statements was hint enough that he did not wish to talk about it. Alfred caught on quickly and, however silly it might have been, turned his head to stare out the window. Black. It was always black. A perpetual evening filled eclipsed by his own faulty eyes. Even though it had been a good three years since the onset of his cataracts, he'd never truly get use to this infinite darkness.

It wasn't long before he felt the car come to a stop, the sound of Arthur shuffling to remove his belt and open the door prompting him to do the same. These short moments, when he no longer had someone or something beside him, scared him the most. As soon as the car door opened, he reached out his hand, raking the air for some human contact to bring him back from his empty world. Arthur gladly took it and helped him out with a gruff but audible 'huff' from the effort.

"Are you trying to say something, Artie? I'm not getting that heavy am I?"

Silence.

Once they entered, Arthur helped lead Alfred to the couch in the dining room. Though he was sure that Alfred was capable enough to maneuver his way around, his partner hadn't visited his home all of two times since they started dating.

"So since you dragged me all the way here, Artie, what are we going to do?" Alfred asked once he was settled on the couch. His hands rubbed the fine suede, testing his surroundings. "I was thinking we could maybe watch a movie or something. I'm actually pretty good at guessing what's going on in the scenes-My active imagination also makes it easy to imagine everyone hotter than they actually are."

Arthur rolled his eyes and placed his hand on Alfred's shoulder. He pressed down on it gently until he managed to get Alfred to turn his head towards him. He proceeded to take Alfred's hand and started to write with his index finger what he intended. Thanks to Alfred's more acute sense of touch, though the lettering might have been obscure to some, the young man seemed to easily deduce his intentions.

"You're going to make sandwiches? Ha! You really are a gentleman, aren't you? Well sure, but I'll need about 5 of them-growing boy, ya know? Make sure that they don't have any pickles, though. Bleh, those vinegar-laced cucumbers are so strong they make me sick."

Arthur nodded out of habit and tapped once, their universal code for 'yes' that had been established during some of the Exceptional Musicians meetings when whispers or notes of affection couldn't be passed. In truth, Arthur didn't mind the use of touch as their main means of communication. Ever since his voice had been taken from him, physical contact was one of the only true ways he could express how he was feeling. He knew Alfred could sympathize with this. He let his partner's hand drop back into his lap and then headed towards the kitchen to prepare their meal.

"Don't try to slip me any tea this time either!" Alfred raised a finger to the side of his nose, as if impersonating the chubby Christmas saint's method of travel. "I've got a sharp nose and I won't easily be fooled again."

He could imagine Arthur waving him off dismissively, but how he would have loved to see it instead. Alfred knew that Arthur had chosen to be in a relationship with him despite each other's disabilities, fully aware that a normal relationship would be difficult if at all possible. Then again, what was normal to someone like him? He'd managed to becoming an accomplished pianist, having received little to no professional training, and sought challenge after challenge to improve his ability. It was Arthur who took it harder, he could tell. What he had in sight, he lacked in sound. Arthur had been brave enough to share some of his earlier tracks he'd recorded in his private studio with Alfred on one of his first visits. He'd remembered the heaving sobs that racked Arthur's body as Alfred cradled him tightly; it was the only real comfort he could provide.

Demons of their past lives haunted them both, though for Alfred, this was more of a literal case. Before he'd lost his sight, he would often see shapes drifting in and out of is peripheral view. Vague apparitions with equally vague intent, as nothing bad ever happened after seeing them. They were just there. A constant plague on his sanity. Their shapes and sizes changed, but their presence was always assured. Day or night he could see them floating just out of reach. No one else ever saw them. How foolish he'd been to think that wishing them away, wishing that he could no longer see them, would work. Even after becoming blind, when the rest of the world faded away, they remained. Glimpses of what he thought was reality faded in and out of existence. It got to the point that, sometimes, Alfred couldn't tell he was imagining them or if he was the one being imagined in this ghostly world.

His hands groped the air before him in desperation before returning to touch his face, sliding the dark shades up above his hairline. He covered his eyes, as if that would stop them, shield him from their haunts. When he was younger, it stopped them. Now that his life was void of light, it did nothing. The sensation of the couch beneath his back began to vanish, the nothingness of it all consuming him into their shadowy world.

"Arthur…"

His voice was no more than a whisper, a child-like plea for help. He gripped the lining of his jacket tightly, becoming faint of breath.

"Arthur?!"

This time with more fervor, fearing that his voice wouldn't pierce the darkness. He sunk inwardly to himself, using all his typical methods to calm down. He counted to ten, he tried to call forth his most treasured places of his childhood, construct a world that wasn't so void and frightening. He even attempted to hum the 'Mission Impossible' theme. His mother had suggested that, instead of running from the ghosts, he should try becoming a spy and 'hiding' from them. Though it was an extremely off-key impression of the tune, it was the idea that mattered. It wasn't working.

"Arthur!"

Just as he was about to stand up and begin his frantic search on his own, someone grabbed his shoulder and squeezed it tightly-tight beyond a reassuring gesture. It was strong and bold. It spoke volumes beyond what a light pat or even a comforting hug, and though it was a tad painful, it was enough to shake him out of his episode. He fell back in the couch and slumped, Arthur following him to sit directly at his side, all the while softening his grip on Alfred's shoulder. The boy lifted his own hands to find Arthur's face, feeling the lines of his apologetic frown, the furrowed extremely fuzzy brow that he had, on more than one occasion mistaken for caterpillars. Alfred eventually calmed and sighed.

"I-I'm sorry. Y-you sure do take a long time to make sandwiches…"

Arthur looked over Alfred's haggard face with concern, and though he was uncertain of what triggered this reaction, which he'd witnessed on numerous occasions now, he'd found that acknowledgement of another's presence was enough to soothe him. He attempted to smile, Alfred's long fingers tracing the form of his lips and proceeding to smile in return. He still wasn't entirely use this strange form of intimacy they shared between them, but it was theirs nonetheless. He pulled his face away, hand still on Alfred's shoulder, and used his free hand to reach into Alfred's pocket.

"Woah! Easy there, champ, " Alfred cautioned, twisting to the side in both as a means to shy away from Arthur's pursuit and ease whatever task his partner was trying to complete. "We've only been dating for two weeks, don't you think this is a little fast?"

Arthur ignored the quip and finally removed the phone from its carrying case, beginning to search through the apps to the voice recognition app. He wasn't the best with technology, but Alfred's brother Matthew had shown him how to navigate the blasted thing in his spare time that made organizing their concert a few months prior exceedingly easier. He began to type his formal apology as Alfred waited beside him. The boy wore a strangely excited look on his features, but Arthur shrugged it off. Alfred always carried himself that way.

When he finally pressed the key for the device to speak, he awaited the robotic tones of the phone's automatic voice system to relay his words and was met with a rather unpleasant surprise.

"Alfred! I'm so sorry, love. I didn't mean to leave you alone like that. I won't do it again!"

The highly erotic and suggestive timbre of a female voice erupted from the phone, making the entire scene feel more like a porn movie instead of a sincere request for forgiveness. Arthur's eyes shot down to the phone, bewildered and highly embarrassed while Alfred sat beside him, rolling with laughter.

"Ahahahaha! How do you like your new voice, Arthur? I thought Siri was getting pretty old, so I convinced Matthew to replace it with Sound bytes from some of my dad's old DVD's-You know the ones. Yeah, he normally wouldn't do anything close to this for me, but it helps when you have ears that can hear just about anything that goes on in the house. Can't keep secrets from me." Alfred stifled more laughter, pushing his sunglasses the rest of the way up his face so he could wipe away the tears.

"I'm gonna KILL you!" Arthur typed in a response, though his intent was lost in translation when a sigh escaped the phone that left both of them stunned to silence. It only lasted a brief moment before Alfred burst out laughing again.

"Oh are you now?" Alfred's eyebrows raised above the level of his shades, smirking.

Arthur, fed up with the whole thing, threw the phone at him, and just barely missed hitting his crouch. Alfred flinched, hands fumbling to the area with a grin still plastered on his face.

"Careful! With the way you've been talking, I might need those later."

Alfred could almost feel the heat radiating from Arthur's cheeks, and he most definitely felt the hand that he shoved into his face, pushing him over on the couch. Alfred just continued to laugh hysterically, laying there on his side, wishing he could witness the "gentleman's" expression.

Arthur gave up any efforts to use the booby-trapped phone and resorted to sitting with his arms and legs crossed, staring angrily at the TV. It took a minute or so before Alfred righted himself and pressed his shoulder against Arthur's.

"Come ooonnnn. It was pretty funny, admit it."

Arthur wouldn't. He scowled. he scowled as loud as he could in hopes that Alfred could hear him. Obviously he didn't.

"Phew! Well now that my fun's over...where are those sandwiches you took an eternity making? Don't tell me you were secretly making tea and that's what made you late."

Arthur blinked over in Alfred's direction. Without his shades, he could see his clouded eyes. It was a shame that such expressive, large, gorgeous eyes had been taken from him. The world had no mercy. But perhaps it was the tiniest bit kind. After all, it had brought Alfred to him.

Arthur sighed and took Alfred's hand, placing his partner's palm in his own, and tapping three times with two fingers.

Alfred's head tilted to the side.

"Three taps? I thought we agreed that one was 'yes', and two was 'no'. What does three taps mean?"

Arthur slowly and carefully drew the halves of a heart on top of his hand, pleased to see that it was his companion's turn to blush. Alfred drew his hand back to his face and coughed, half-turned to the side.

"R-right. How about we put on a movie and eat those sandwiches now. Just don't make it Lord of the Rings or anything like that. I don't have two days to watch it. You Brits and your extremely long drawn out movies…"

Arthur, satisfied with this response, swiftly returned to the kitchen to retrieve the sandwiches and start the movie, ready and waiting for the 'director's commentary' that Alfred so generously provided. As he settled down next to him, Alfred shyly placed his hand on the couch cushion between them. Arthur took the invitation and the two intertwined their fingers, holding each other tightly. Suddenly Alfred began to sniff the air and shot him a look of disbelief.

"Really…?"

Arthur squeezed his hand and began sipping his tea.