"Arthur." The boy, or rather, young man, said again.
Arthur shivered and studied the transparent person. He could faintly see the blonde hair, one strand stubbornly sticking up. Green eyes traveling further down, he took in the uniform. It was a military uniform. A very old one at that. It was like a long blue cloak, with red at the cuffs of the sleeves, and the strip that ran down his chest until it split just below what Arthur assumed where his belly button would that wasn't the only red he noticed on the uniform. Where his left lung was, there was a blotch of red, and a small hole in the uniform, as if he had been shot.
Arthur's eyes traveled back up to Alfred's eyes. Many emotions emerged themselves as they both stared into each other eyes. Love, pain, betrayal, lonely-ness, and longing. Those were the emotions that swirled in those endless blue eyes.
An odd sensation ran through Arthur's body, and suddenly he dropped to the floor as what seemed like a memory wrapped itself around his mind, rendering him unconscious.
They held each others hands, tightly, sitting on the roof of Alfred's house, looking at the view of trees, and the faint buildings of the city. It was their special spot, and it seemed no one ever found them, even though they were clearly in plan site.
"Hey, Arthur, why don't you just leave the Empire and come live with me? You can join our side, and stay with me. That way, we would never have to face each in battle." Alfred spoke, looking up at the sky.
"I can't do that, Alfred," Arthur began, squeezing the Americans hand, "I would love to live with you, but- I just can't. They would hurt my family for betraying the Empire. Then they would come after you.." It became quite between the two, as they sat and thought.
"We can travel out west then! They would never find us out there! And we could build a whole new house and live in peace."
"That sounds like a wonderful idea, love, but I'm afraid I still can't do that. Maybe after this blasted war is over, and everything wasn't at stake, okay?" He smiled at his love, then laid his head on the others shoulder.
"So we can really do that after the war ends? Alright, then all we have to do is go to England at...Dispose of that horrid king! Then the war would be over, and you wouldn't have anything to worry about, and I would have you to myself." Alfred nuzzled against Arthur's hair.
"If only it could be that easy, poppit. If only." He chuckled at the thought of Alfred 'disposing' of the king, wearing a silly red cape, made out of the British uniform.
"Yeah..That would be great. Hey Artie?" He asked, leaning back up. The Brit sat up and looked into the endless blue eyes.
"Yes?"
"When and if we die, do you think we'll be able to see each other again?" The sudden conversation change made Arthur blink at him for a moment. Why would he possibly be thinking about that?
"Why are you asking, love? What are you thinking?" He questioned looked back at the clouds.
"I was just wondering. I don't want to leave this world if that means I won't be able to see you again. I would roam the Earth for hundreds of years, just to be able to see you if I have too! I can promise you that!" Arthur stared, slightly stunned, and a little flattered. His face reddened.
"You lovable oaf, I'm not worth that much! And yes, we will see each other again, in the next life. I wouldn't want to be there without you." He leaned in and pressed his lips to Alfreds, gently and lovingly.
"Forever.." Alfred whispered into the kiss.
Arthur cracked open his eye, the blurry world coming to view. When he could see clearly, he found that Alfred was standing, or rather, floating in front of him, a look of concern on his face.
"Are you alright?" He asked, sitting down on his bed beside Arthur.
"W-what happened?" Arthur sat up, rubbing his head, which was now throbbing.
"You just dropped to the floor like a bad of potatoes! You had me worried for a second."
"Oh..Well, that's strange. And I had this really weird dream." Alfred looked at the other boy curiously.
"Really? What happened?" The Brits face turned red as he clearly remember the dream.
"Er..W-well..It was you and I..And we were, umm, holding hands." Arthur mumbled. It felt weird to be talking to someone that was practically a complete stranger, about a dream that involved that same stranger in it.
"Was there anymore?" Alfred pressed. Arthur looked at him, and could see the curiosity, and longing, lingering in his eyes.
"Well, y-you were talking about to someone, me I'm guessing, to come live w-with you. And something about getting rid of the king," He paused, and hurried to continue, "And then you brought up something about if we died, would be still be t-together..." Arthur whispered around the end of his explanation of the dream.
He looked up to see that Alfred was just staring, eyes slightly wide. He stayed like that for another moment before he closed his eyes and nodded slowly.
"What? What is it?" It was Arthur's turn to press. Alfred just shook his head.
"I-it's nothing..." Alfred sat in silence, almost like he was sulking, which caused another weird feeling in Arthurs stomach. He reached his hand forward, wanting to pat his shoulder in a comforting way, but his hand went through the spirit. Arthur snatched his hand away at the cold feeling, that left his hand tingling, and shivered.
"You can't touch me, silly~." Alfred smiled a little, amused at Arthur's attempt.
"But how did you move me onto the bed if things just move through you?" The British boy asked, confused.
"Well, if I concentrate enough, then I can make myself become solid. So far I can make my arms solid, and that's about it."
"Oh, I see. I-" Arthur was suddenly cut off by a loud banging sound at the front door. What could anybody possibly want? He slowly got up from Alfred's bed and crossed the room, looking back at Alfred, who followed him.
"Don't keep your guest waiting, Artie." Alfred smiled, and Arthur scowled at the nickname, which made Alfred laugh.
"Of course." Arthur made his way down stares, and to the double doors, opening them to reveal a somewhat tall, long blonde haired man.
"Ah~ bonjour! Welcome to Westmill!" The man exclaimed, joyfully, a thick French accent coming from him. Arthur groaned inwardly. A bloody French frog! Their everywhere!
A/N: I rewrote this chapter 4 times! FOUR TIMES! D: Every time I wrote it, I didn't like it, but I ended up sticking with this chapter, cause I was tired of rewriting it XD But yay! I updated 2 days in a row! So proud of myself o3o
It's so frustrating to write the dialog for Alfred! For one, I'm not sure if I want him to be nice to Arthur, or not (You'll find out later why ;D) and then I don't know how they talked back then, but I tried not to use slang :D So yaaay! XD
