"You can't. You shouldn't."
Upon saying what he knew would be right, Arthur stood up and broke into a sprint. He ran through several corridors and went down several stairs before finally reaching an exit. Panting, he placed a hand over his chest, trying to feel out his heart. It was beating fast, all right, but he knew it was only because of running too much.
For once in Arthur Kirkland's life, he was desperate to feel something. Anything. He knew that he's supposed to reciprocate Alfred's feelings some way or the other...but there was nothing, for all he felt was emptiness.
He admittedly took his emotions for granted when he was younger; honestly, love could make a person too vulnerable and weak. He never expected to want something he didn't care about in the past to come back into his life. He should be happy right now, happy that Alfred chose him, happy that for one time in his lonely life, he was loved.
Suddenly, he felt something inside him snap. He felt his legs grow numb and give up on him, forcing him to support his body on his knees. He could imagine it in his veins; it was Francis's magic, circulating throughout his body and reminding him about the contract. What he thought was a blessing when he was being pursued turned out to be a curse after all.
He felt so pathetic. He should have known better about the price he was once willing to pay. And if only he had never met Alfred, things would be much simpler for him.
Arthur rubbed his eyes for the nth time that day. It has been a week since Alfred's confession and he hadn't managed to get some sleep for just as long. He was thoroughly distracted; no amount of tea or books could ease his drowsiness or the emptiness inside his chest.
He was also considering using his curse to his advantage; he knew he could do it, turn back time so that he wouldn't have met Alfred at all. By doing that, nobody would get hurt...there would be no confusion. Still, Arthur's pride forbade him to do so for the plan made him feel like a coward attempting to run away from his problems. With a yawn, his eyes started to flutter and he felt his body relaxing.
He was jolted awake when he heard the sound of rain. At about the same time, he heard someone knock on the door.
"Sir," his footman muttered, "Mr. Jones sent you a letter."
"Give it to me, then." Arthur replied. Cautiously, his footman entered with the said letter and an envelope opener on a tray and placed them on the table. After dismissing him, Arthur delicately tore the seal apart.
He grew pale when he read the message.
Alfred was going back to America.
Something was eerily wrong.
In the rain, Arthur ran to the forest, unmindful of how soaked he was and how painful his chest and head was getting. So much unhappiness...what has he done in the past to deserve it?
He tripped over a tree root and fell over. Shivering from the cold, he rolled over and lied in the grass, facing the branches that were shielding him from some of the rain and were concealing a bit of the dark, stormy skies. Something was wrong, something was not right...it confused Arthur so, and he just couldn't figure it out. He panted as he felt the magic course through his veins again, his hands clawing at the soil in frustration.
Lightning illuminated the sky, and Arthur finally figured it out.
Something was missing. Yes, there was the sadness in knowing that Alfred would leave for good, but there was nothing more. He wasn't hurt because of the love he wasn't able to declare.
He wasn't able to declare his love because he couldn't. Which meant that yes, Arthur would have fallen in love with Alfred, after all.
The thought made the ache in his chest worse and he could only let the tears fall from his eyes. It was such a waste, such a terrible waste. Just when he could finally obtain the happiness he was yearning for when he was younger, it all slipped from his grasp. All because of his inability to love. All because of that stupid contract.
"Why...why?" He sobbed. He wanted so badly to make the pain go away. He wanted so badly to fill the emptiness with something. All there was sadness, desperation, and helplessness...wasn't there anything else in store for him?
"There is, my dear. There is."
Arthur sat up and looked around. Everything was oddly familiar; the setting, his unstable emotions, the situation. But the voice he heard wasn't a male's marred with thick French accent; it was from a seemingly gentle woman, a fact that gave him a little hope.
She – the fairy- walked over to him in light, soundless steps. "That is, if you're really sure about your conclusion."
It was a conclusion, a statement declared only by his mind because he couldn't feel. Arthur saw that the fairy has green eyes and long, brown hair that she decorated with flowers, uncaring about the curls. He blinked at her. She only smiled in response.
"Pardon me for intruding. My name is Elizaveta, and I want to help you."
"Elizaveta," Arthur weakly said, "why are you aware...?"
"I was watching you the whole time, ever since you were thirteen." Her lips curled down into a sad frown. "That French bastard – yes, the one named Francis – he was the one who cause all of the misfortunes in your life. He was coming up with ways to steal your feelings from you and set up a trap just so you would have no choice but to give him what he wants. With his horrible tactics, you unfortunately fell for it."
Arthur's eyes widened. "You mean the fire...and my family's death? He's the one-?"
A slow nod answered his question.
"I was planning to intervene, to save you from making the biggest mistake of your life." Elizaveta knelt beside Arthur. "But when I figured everything out, it was already too late. You already have your powers, and Francis already took your emotions from you."
Thunder broke the calm silence between them. "I'm sorry." She continues, her eyes shifting downwards. "I couldn't help you back then. I could help you now but..."
Arthur sighed, facing the stormy sky once more. "I know. There's a price, isn't there?"
Elizaveta nodded. "I won't force you into a contract with me, Arthur. After all, you might be mistaken about what you might feel about him."
Arthur closed his eyes and contemplated. Was it all a mistake, his lingering longing for Alfred? The little emotion he felt could be misleading; because of his inability, his mind could easily play tricks on him and feed his consciousness with lies. His lack of love fortunately did not make him too naive for his own good.
Nevertheless, Arthur shook his head. It all made sense. The emptiness, the sadness, his powerlessness – they could only mean one thing. Even the invincible power granted to him; it alone couldn't make him happy.
There are no doubts.
"I'm positive about what I should feel about him." He said. "So, Elizaveta, what kind of fairy are you?"
Elizaveta was silent for a while before she let out an answer.
"I'm a fairy of perception."
