First introductory chapter of our co-written story. AU, slash, human names used. Enjoy.


The sun floated lazily high up in the sky, and Arthur breathed in deeply as he stopped in the road. The cotton piled up where the pavement met the concrete sidewalk, and he kicked the pile, sending them drifting away. The cotton seeds floated down the road, the wind carrying them farther than Arthur meant for them to go. He ran after the seeds, reaching out his hands to try and catch them, and stopped, panting, hand on his knees when he couldn't. Arthur's back cracked as he straightened, and he realized he didn't particularly enjoy being alone. It felt like something should have been there, something he couldn't quite reach. He shut his eyes.

Arthur opened his eyes again, and resumed walking slowly down the road. There's a word for this, and it's dancing away from me, just beyond my reach. Fucking taunting me, just like whatever needs to be here, whatever's missing. There's something wrong here, and I can't place my finger on exac- 'A piece of me is missing.' That's the phrase!

Arthur grabbed the candy out of his pocket, and threw it on the ground, watching as each piece scattered across the pavement. He felt like they were the bane of his existence, and they were going to pay if he had any hand in it.

"It's fucking your fault! This is all because of you! If you hadn't- if Alfred hadn't- it's because, just, God. Fucking this isn't fair!" He screamed. Arthur dropped onto the sidewalk and quietly wept cross-legged. The sun ducked behind a cloud, hiding from his tears until the blond slowly wiped his eyes, and stood up.

Suddenly, Arthur gasped. It was sharp, quick, and the sun peered out from behind the cloud, it's fair face shining down on the Brit's shoulders as he dropped back to his knees. He frantically started picking up the pieces of candy, and carefully brushed them off. Arthur stood disappointed with his handful of dirty candy, luster no longer happily shining like the summer sun on a bright day.

"Arthur, is that you?" A blond head peeked around the corner of the door frame.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING OUT OF BED!" Arthur yelled, poking Alfred in the chest, until he backed onto the hospital bed.

This Kodak moment presented itself neatly gift-wrapped, a bow-tie squarely on top. Arthur silently filed it away in his memory cabinet. Alfred, stunned in his too-thin blue hospital gown, staring up at him with big eyes (glasses tilted cutely to the side), and his mouth a little open as he sat on the cot. The curtains only let a little bit of light in, softly illuminating his baby-blues. Arthur smiled down at his lover, suddenly feeling more jovial than he had in a long time, and Alfred smiled back. It was a big, bright smile, dazzling and cheerful despite the thin, colourless face it perched evenly upon.

"Arty, did you bring me my Skittles?" The innocent question accompanied with a bright grin brought him back to the dusty candy, and Arthur stood with his mouth tightly shut for a moment.

"Well, um. No, actually, I," he stood in the hospital room rubbing the back of his neck, the machines humming quietly in the background as he stared at the cold tile floor. Alfred's faltering smile returned full strength at the sight of Art bringing an ice-cream cone out, along with his own bright grin.

"Even better, Al. I got a vanilla cone from a peddler, and I put the Skittles in them for you. I almost got chocolate before I remembered we traded favorite flavours," he winked at the giggling Alfred licking his cone, and leaned in for a slow, sugary kiss. These delicate moments sparked old memories as Arthur inhaled the cold, sanitized air.


Arthur stood silently on the sidewalk, the clouds swimming through the sky. His bubble wand dropped forgotten onto the ground as he ran towards a sound. It was a blond boy calling softly up to a cat sitting in the big oak tree. Arthur didn't say anything, just stood in the shade watching the strange boy try to entice the cat down.

"C'mon kitty! Jump, I'll catch you! Don't worry, you're safe now, come on down!" He cheerily shouted at the harassed-looking cat. It lay on the branch squinting down at the short, jumping figure below before settling and closing it's amber eyes.. Before Arthur could say anything, the boy started scrambling his way up the tree.

"Hey! What are you trying to do? That cat's not going to budg- Hey!" He reached the tree just as the kid lost his footing and slipped.

"You stupid kid, are you okay?" Arthur bent over, and leaning his hands on his knees, cutely stuck his rear in the air. "What'd you even do?"

"I just scraped my knee on the bark, is all," he smiled, and tried to stand back up, failing.

"Well that was dumb. Black cats are bad luck! Silky's not even cute, and she can get down perfectly fine by herself, you know," Arthur harrumphed. As if to prove his point, the cat dropped out of the tree and stalked off without even so much as an indignant meow. "Why aren't you crying then? You look pretty young; little kids cry easily," he sniffed.

"Cos I'm the hero, and heroes don't cry!" The boy beamed, and wiped the blood sloppily off his knee.

"Then what's your name? I haven't seen your pretty face around here before, I don't think." Arthur gave the boy on the ground his most charming smile.

"Alfred Jones," the kid mumbled.

"Alfred Jones? You mumbled," Arthur laughed.

"Yeah, but you said it funny. How come ya talk like that?" He tilted his head up at the other boy peering curiously into the .

Arthur looked down his straight, freckled nose condescendingly at his new-found friend, who in return peered up curiously. "I'm English, and my name is Arthur Kirkland," he declared, skinny chest swelling with patriotic pride.

"You're cute," Alfred smiled.

"H-how old are you, even? Cos I'm already eight," A flustered Arthur sneered, crossing his arms.

"Oh, well, I'm only six, but we can still be friends, right?" Al grinned. Arthur stuck out his lower lip, considering his offer. "I suppose, but I get to be in charge."

"Cool! Hey, do you hear that? What's that music?" Alfred looked around quickly, searching for the source of the sound.

"Blimey! It's the ice-cream truck! Get up, you fat lard, we have to run and catch it!" Arthur yanked Alfred to his feet, and sometimes when he reminisced over the scene, it seemed to play in slow motion. Alfred came up too hard, and lost his balance. Just as he was about to fall, he landed neatly in Arthur's outstretched arms, and for a moment it seemed like the entire world fit in his embrace. It was the closest Arthur had ever been to a non-relative human being. He decided he quite liked the feeling.


"What's your favorite ice-cream flavour, Arty?" Alfred's legs extended from the concrete curb, and he cracked his toes with a satisfying pop.

"Vanilla, and don't call me Arty, only my Gran's allowed to call me that." He glanced over at Al's skinny khaki-short clad legs. "My legs are longer, by the way."

"Really? I like chocolate better. And shut up, my mom says I'm beautiful."

"Chocolate's gross, and so is your mom." He took a swipe of Alfred's cone, because he didn't really think it was gross. Arthur looked up to see Alfred frowning at the road.

"I didn't mean it, stupid. I like chocolate too, but yours is dripping, so fix it. And I guess your mom probably isn't gross." He outstretched his own cone as a peace treaty. "Here, you can have a bit of mine. But only if you want."

Consoled, Alfred took a chomp out of the other kid's cone, smiling at him with an ice-creamy face.

"Did you just bite my ice-cream cone..." Arthur stared at the treat in his fist, a semi-circle of teeth marks marking Alfred's bite.

The overhead sunshine seemed to disappear for a moment. As the boys looked up to investigate, they realized it was only a shadow. A thin, scowling boy stood looming over them, and a cloudy day didn't seem so bad after all.

"There you are, stupid. What're you doing, Al? How'd you screw up your knee? Jesus, you're such an idiot, you can't do anything right. Well, get up! What're you waiting for? Dad's sitting at home, he's all mad and he wants dinner, so if I were you, I'd hurry my ass up," a tall boy stood with his hands on his hips, before turning around and walking away in the direction he came. A silence settled uneasily over the two as the summer cotton danced in circles around them.

"Well, my brother says I have to go. Thanks for the ice-cream, Arty," Al gave a little smile before he left Arthur sitting by himself on the curb, lanky legs outstretched.

"Don't call me Arty!" he called after the disappearing figure, before getting up and angrily continuing to eat his vanilla cone alone. For some reason, it didn't seem to taste as good to Arthur anymore, and he disappointedly threw it onto the sidewalk.