Welcome.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters used in this fanfiction, or the song that inspired it.
REVIEWS
Sora Resi: Yes, the poor dear.
Master Espana: There's an apostrophe in there, Sweetcheeks. Thank you anyway, mi... jo. What would be the male alternative? Ah well. See you in school, Sport.
USUKUSUK
Strange as it was, Arthur was indeed able to sleep later that night.
A small bit of time found him heading back to his room with lulling, heavy strides, collapsing onto his bed as if he were dead weight. As his head hit the pillow, his pale blonde hair splaying against the fabric, red-rimmed eyes drifted shut, burning with a tired sting as he did so. As he was unknowingly falling asleep, his first thoughts were of peace. It was as if he had merely lost contact with the pouring rain of a storm, and was instead showered with a calm, lithe drizzle, no thunder, simply dull calm. He didn't know what to think of the feeling.
USUKUSUK
On Sunday, the summer storm had all but vanished, only leaving behind a trail of cirrus and the smell of rain in its wake.
Arthur slid open the glass door with a bit of effort and instantly got a whiff of the smell, accentuated with a weak rainbow lurking on the horizon, its colors dazzling against the full blue sky. Despite of himself, he smiled a small smile at the sight and and took small steps to the porch swing, grateful that it had an awning to keep it dry.
The warm sun felt nice. He opened his book, eying the small print and reading in calm silence, listening to the birds sing and bounce. Of course, he could venture back inside and watch television, but it seemed like a wasted effort what with the lovely weather.
Arthur delved into his book, for once enjoying the story.
Through the window, the sound of running water echoed, but stopped soon after. The Brit shifted slightly and balanced the open book on his knee, adjusting to a comfortable position and settling.
He read for a while, content in the sounds of fleeting, sunny summer that was all too new to him. Then, quickly, disappearing as quickly as it came, he felt a ghostly presence brush against his calf. Arthur jumped visibly and looked down to his feet. There was nothing there.
Shrugging to himself, he settled again and flipped a page, doing so with more grace than he had in a while. Perhaps a good cry did a person good, he allowed himself to think. For a while longer he read, eyes widening a fraction at a peak in the story, then, he felt it again.
It was like a smooth scarf, or a single strip of silk was teasing him from under the desk. Scowling, though not enough to emit menace, he closed the book and observed the area more closely. There was still not a sign of anything, not an inkling to be seen. Arthur huffed and set his book aside on the seat. He kicked his legs in frustration, suddenly startling at the feeling of his foot coming into harsh contact with something soft, something that quickly moved away.
Arthur's eyebrows shot up and he leaned down rather uncomfortably, trying to see under the bench while sitting. He failed at that and ended up half-standing, eyes peering under the cool, swelled wood of the swing.
An ickle little thing huddled, it's orange tail curling around its entire body as its ears curled, whiskers twitching in time with them. The small feline, with a patch of orange surrounding one of its dilated eyes, lifted a paw hesitantly. The little thing just looked at Arthur for a moment, doing nothing but gazing with its paw raised, then, it darted away, mewling as it went. It moved in slight, its back paws seemingly more powerful than the front as the kitten darted into the unkempt grass of the household's back yard, hiding away somewhere undiscovered. Arthur considered searching from the creature, but brushed away the urge, assuming that the cat had reason to run. After all, he did kick the poor thing, and kicking cats was a crime that should be punishable by death, no matter how accidental. Arthur simpered and sat on the bench again, flicking through the pages to find his place, falling back into a story.
USUKUSUK
It rained again a few days later. This was expected, as August was soon approaching. Still, that didn't mean it made the days any less dreary. There was a single moment in which the sun spoke up, peeping a small ray of light through bulky, stark gray clouds, shining down on a single blade of grass in particular before vanishing. The clouds cried tears that tapped on windows, shuddering houses, quaking trees.
The double glass of the window felt cool against Arthur's hand, and soon, his forehead as he tilted downward. The dream happened again, yet this time, it was different. Not marginally, mind you, but enough so to be noted. It was mostly the same, flying, too bright lights, everything bathed in a sickly white, the voices, saying unintelligible things that could get inside your head and pick at the outer shell, inducing migraines and upsets. It was the same, the same repetitive, obnoxious things whirring around, but oddly, quite near morning, something different happened. Of course, this was usually when the sounds of machinery started, and they did, but now there was another thing. It was so vivid, too, the feeling. The feeling, just the small, sudden feeling of someone tugging at a strand of his hair. Then, he awoke as usual, a bleak, white ceiling offering him a blunt morning greeting and a puzzled aftermath.
Sound was absent from the floor below and he was suddenly missing the clanking of dishes, or rambling of the telly.
He lifted his eyes, actually paying attention to what he was looking at through the window. The view from his room was mostly the backyard, along with the sky. Little puddles dappled the grass and rain pattered against the awning of the porch swing, water streamed down pavement and into soil, bounced from blades of grass back into the air.
A flicker of movement caught his eye.
The swelled porch swing's seat moved, barely a centimeter, then steadied itself, going back, forth, back, forth, until it stopped. Arthur dismissed it as the rain, or perhaps a bird seeking shelter. Then it happened again, the seat began to swing, and steady, swing, and steady. He opened his window to get a better look, the panes groaning as he did so. He stupidly poked his head outside, grimacing at the instant onslaught of rain smacking his face, and leaned down to get a better view of the swing.
There was no one and nothing on top of the seat. Arthur scrunched up his face in confusion, then, when he was just about to move back inside, the white gate of the fence was forced open.
It was hard to tell who the person shouldering open the gate was because they were wearing double layered jackets with a raincoat on top, but the cowlick was a dead give-away even under three hoods, still standing proud in the downpour.
Alfred was holding a rectangular box, its cardboard dotted with rain and sides torn in random patterns. Arthur watched, head still peeping awkwardly from the window, as Alfred moved across the grass, each step making a sticky, muddy splash. He was leaning over the box, appearing as an effort to shield it from falling droplets.
The boy reached the pavement of the patio, shoes making a wet sound against it. Arthur quirked an eyebrow as Alfred knelt down in front of the porch swing that was still quivering oddly. What was even more strange was that the boy even began to talk in a light, relaxed voice despite the pounding rain. Arthur could not hear it from his location, but he knew the American's murmurs were silly, even cutesy, just from the tone of his voice.
Alfred reached under the swing, the sleeves of his several jackets sliding up his arms as he did so. Then, with a smile adorning his face, he pulled a tiny kitten from under the bench, the same one that Arthur had accidentally kicked just a few days ago. Its bright green eyes were wide and its form was shivering, fur sagging and dripping and ears seeming to flop more than normal. Alfred said more silly nonsense words to the cat and gently set it in the box, patting the cats head as he did so. Then, leaning over the box, he reached under the swing once again, this time not smiling, but still talking to something. Arthur leaned out more, wanting to see what else was under the desk. He heard Alfred curse and draw his hand back, then, he sighed loudly and reached under again, quite literally yanking out what looked like a second cat.
This one was just comical, its hair soaked in tufts and actually drooping over his eyes, shielding its vision. It swung its clawed paws in Alfred's direction, yowling as it did so, hissing. This cat was larger and more durable, and, well, it was chubbier. Its large-for-a-kitten paws landed a hit on Alfred's cheek, leaving a scratch. He cursed once again and rudely dropped the agitated feline into the box, standing abruptly and bouncing the full box gently on his knee for balance.
Alfred jogged to the sliding glass door of the house and opened it with the crook of his elbow. Arthur yanked his head back inside the building, shaking droplets out of his hair like a wet dog. He shuddered, warding off the rainy chill.
There was a faint crash from downstairs and a small yelp, then the sound of tiny, pattering footsteps bolting up the stairs. Arthur startled when a large, white ball of fur darted inside his room, vanishing under his bed. Seconds later, heavier footsteps scrambled up the steps. His door, now wide open thanks to a nervous kitten, displayed the hallway. Alfred jogged past, dripping rainwater and holding a hand over his wrist. Although he was moving fast, Arthur did manage to catch a glimpse of red seeping from under his hand, and a nasty gash.
Arthur frowned and got to his feet, kneeling and peering under his bed.
The same white ball of fur from earlier was curled up in the corner near the wall, its white and brown tail swinging in obvious agitation. The fairly large kitten, with its big, starry blue eyes, bristled its fur when it caught sight of Arthur, hissing and seeming to shrink into its little corner. The brown ring of fur circling the feline's collar made this actually look menacing, and Arthur stood, shuddering and grimacing. The cat was clearly upset, but something about it seemed... off. Shrugging to himself and rolling his shoulders to ward off chill, he curiously left the room, passing the bathroom along the way and hearing running water from within. Arthur toed his way down the stairs in his fluffy socks, involuntarily sliding on the slick wooden floor at the bottom. He made his way into the living room and caught sight of the dappled cardboard box that was haphazardly dropped on the floor near the door.
Inside, another kitten sat calmly, albeit a little shaken. It was the same one Arthur had seen, and, well, kicked under the porch swing, its orange patches wet and matted with dirty rainwater.
Hearing Arthur approach, it's folded ears perked up as much as they could and its green button eyes cracked open, whiskers twitching in nervous habit as it gazed up at the big, strange person. The cat blinked once, slowly in the way that cats do, and it stood, stretching its long body. It mewled, a small, sweet sound, hopping over the edge of the box and pattering into the dining room and up the stairs, perhaps to find its eccentric companion.
Arthur followed after, climbing the stairs just in time for the bathroom door to burst open, revealing an angry Alfred with soaked hair and an odd leather jacket coating his shoulders. He was still clutching at his wrist. Arthur frowned.
"Oh, uh." Alfred seemed surprised, as if he had forgotten Arthur existed. "Hey."
"Hey." Arthur said flatly. After a frankly weird silence, the Brit cleared his throat awkwardly, the way the two always seemed to communicate for some reason. "Mind explaining the cats?"
Alfred swallowed and released his arm to nervously scratch his head, revealing an angry red mark on his arm. It was no longer bleeding but it was wet with water.
"They hang out in our backyard." the younger was flushed slightly, and Arthur quirked a large eyebrow. "I let them in when I'm home alone. Or at least the orange one, the other one's kind of an asshole..." Alfred's voice trailed off and he looked away, clutching at his wrist again and wincing.
Arthur's frown deepened. "I can see that. Why do you bring that one in if it bites you?"
Alfred shrugged and puffed out his cheeks in a sigh. "He's cold too." he said simply.
Just then, the noise of something tumbling and falling erupted from Arthur's room. Moments later the orange spotted cat came prancing out, its fuzzy head held high in the air and its tail perked straight up with a slight curve at the tip. Alfred knelt down to the petite fold and held out his hand. "This one likes me, at least." The dappled cat sniffed Alfred's good hand, then nuzzled against him.
Arthur smiled lightly and knelt down as well.
"Do they have names?"
Seeming to hear him, the kitten's ears twitched. It directed its button-green eyes at Arthur's own emerald greens and meowed.
Arthur's smile was infectious and Alfred began to grin as well. "Yeah. The asshole is Burger. This one's Biscuit." he scratched at its folded ears. "They're both boys."
Arthur nodded and reached to pet the small kitten as well, but drew his hand back when it darted behind Alfred and ogled at Arthur with eyes wide as saucers. Biscuit's tail swung back and forth and his fur was standing on end, a clear sign of agitation. Yes, now Arthur certainly wished he hadn't kicked the small feline. He sighed guiltily and folded his arms on top of his bent knees.
"I kicked him the other day."
"What!" Alfred bristled and gave Arthur and incredulous look.
"It was an accident!" Arthur clarified, flushing out of embarrassment and looking at the frightened cat. Biscuit mewled and hid behind Alfred further, and Arthur could have sworn that he was giving him the stink eye.
Alfred gave Arthur a half-hearted glare, then, he faltered and snickered. "How did you manage that?"
Not bothering to acknowledge Alfred's laughter as a mocking gesture, Arthur simpered. "I don't know."
USUKUSUK
Later, after Arthur had departed back to his room, Alfred found himself lounging in bed, lost in thought with a warm, spotted kitten resting on his tummy.
Lately, it was becoming extremely apparent to Alfred that it was the little things that mattered, the brownie points in life. Such as the way a television gave darkness blue light, or the way a cat would slowly blink, an affectionate, fleeting gesture that meant so much yet received little to no attention. Much like the way that same, blue light could light up a person's eyes, or the way that bright greens could look so much the same, yet so different on two different beings.
He found it hard to admit it to himself, but as he comforted the skittish kitten whose fur was soft and velvety against his hand, he was reminded of his awkward attempt at comforting a crying Arthur. The thought struck him that he was comparing the soft feeling of a kitten's fur to that of a previously disliked person's hand, and he grimaced.
Although, he didn't dislike Arthur anymore. No, quite the contrary, he was becoming rather fond of him. He didn't know what to think of it.
He thought it was Arthur's smug persona that he didn't like, the way he seemed so full of himself, the way he seemed to mock you just by looking at you. Now, though, it was as if the Brit had received a reality check. It seemed like all of that melted away and only left a shy, introverted person who was, despite being terribly awkward, just a little bit kind. He was beginning to remind Alfred of himself, and well, if he was fond of anyone most in the world, it was himself.
That was not the point though. The point was, he was starting to like Arthur, and a part deep, deep, deeper than anything else in his mind, knew that it wasn't the sort of like that involved friendship. Oh no, he knew his luck better than that. Of course the moment he got even an inkling of a friend that was beyond a cat and a quiet Japanese kid, it was in the form of a ridiculously cute English guy-
No!
He knocked his head against the wall and groaned.
In his mind he scolded himself for thinking such things. There were just so many things wrong with this train of thought! He'd only known Arthur for a few days short of a month. This was not supposed to happen. Although it wasn't the first time something like this had happened.
Alfred had known that he tended to be... overzealous when it came to people he was even remotely close with. There was one particular incident he had with his friend Kiku, who he felt lucky to still be able to call his best friend after what happened. Since then he'd been more reserved with people, not going out as much and mainly residing in the confines of his bedroom, wasting away and rotting his brain on the stimulative high of video games. It wasn't as though he had completely reclused his life, he did act like this beforehand, but it had just escalated.
That was beside the point. The point was, he was growing attached to someone who was unattainable, two years older than him, technically residing in another country, and, apparently, dead. Yeah, his luck was the worst.
Alfred scratched at Biscuit's ears, picked him up and put him aside, sitting up and rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. Biscuit blinked up at him and mewed, then curled up into a comfortable position, kneading his paws on Alfred's comforter as he dozed.
Alfred smiled fondly at the small kitten and stood, walking out of his bedroom and keeping a hand on his sore arm.
He stood dazedly, trudging out of the room and grumbling his reminiscent thoughts. Elbowing his door open, he stepped into the hall, padding past doors and picture frames hanging on the wall covered in a thin film of dust.
When his foot found the top stair he felt a particular sting hit the bite on his arm and he flinched. Then, when he descended to the second stair, he stumbled, hearing a high pitched yowl tear through the near silent house.
Alfred barely had enough time to notice the white ball of fluff darting away and hissing before he realized what was happening. A tingle of fear settled in his stomach when he saw the stairs quickly, too quickly approach him at top speed and he realized that the damn cat had tripped him. Probably on purpose, too!
Then, when he hit the ground, everything erupted into warm pain, and his vision became fuzzy. He didn't know if it was because he lost his glasses or because he was losing consciousness. The answer soon became apparent, however, when everything faded to pure, quiet black.
USUKUSUK
Minutes earlier...
After the small ordeal with the cats, Arthur retreated back to his room and sat on his bed. He contemplated getting a bit of reading in and picked up the book from the end table, shifting to sit cross-legged and putting the book in his lap. He read for a while, almost becoming absorbed in the story but never completely, flipping pages with a grace that had slowly been growing, bit by bit.
After a while, he looked up and yawned, rolling his shoulders and blinking his eyes that stung with a tired feeling. He marked his page with a torn corner of scrap paper and shut it, placing it on the end table once again.
Arthur stood and went to his wardrobe, opening one of the wooden bottom drawers and searching for a pair of sweats to sleep in, shedding his shirt as he did so. It was getting late and moonlight shined in little rays through the window. Stars were visible through the crevices between blinds and they shined equally as bright, but not as courageously as the moon. He changed into the sweats, gray, boring, and scratchy on the outside, and peeled the covers back from his bed.
When his hand was about an inch from the switch of his lamp, his door creaked open and the larger cat from earlier, Burger, peered into his room with steely blue eyes. He yowled, a louder sound than that of Biscuit, and padded into the room. The brown ring of fur around his neck puffed up when he meowed and his ears perked, and the odd little tuft of yellow hair atop his head bounced as well. When Arthur looked at him, Burger shrunk back to the door, hunching down and curling his tail under his tummy. He hissed.
Arthur blinked, surprised at the mood swing, and looked away from the growing kitten.
Burger perked up, standing straight once again and blinking up at Arthur from his spot near the door. He padded into the room, his paws making soft sounds against the plush carpet, and sat at the foot of Arthur's bed.
Arthur risked a second glance at the cat and jumped when Burger bristled.
He looked away once again, a smile threatening to split his face at the cat's childish behavior. Finally he snickered, covering his mouth as he did so.
Burger got on his hind legs and put his front paws on Arthur's bed, meowing once again. Arthur looked at him and he hissed and prickled, but once he looked away Burger just behaved like a normal cat. It was funny to Arthur, but also a bit endearing.
Without looking at him, Arthur cautiously extended his hand out to Burger, who stayed still for a moment. Then, twice as cautious as Arthur had been, he sniffed the Brit's fingers, beginning to knead on the bed covers with clawless paws. Arthur found it strange that this supposedly stray cat had been declawed, but he decided to put it out of his mind. He carefully reached up to stroke at the cat's head, and he purred, leaning up and actually taking the effort to leap onto Arthur's bed.
The Brit smiled and pet the cat, though he found it strange to do so while staring at a wall. Slowly, he swallowed and turned to the cat, whose eyes were closed in bliss. When Burger opened his eyes they seemed to dilate at the sight of Arthur looking at him. He remained stock still for a fraction of a second, then, he darted from the bed and out of the room in a hurry. Arthur sighed in disappointment. He rather like the cat, even if he was, apparently, an arsehole.
Arthur reached for the lamp again, but for the second time he was startled. There was a thump in the hallway, sounding near the stairs, and suddenly, there was a very, very loud crash, accompanied by a groan and tiny retreating footsteps. Burger ran into his room once again and sped under the bed, but Arthur didn't have time to check on him as he was already on his way out the door.
He jogged to the stairs, expecting to see toppled furniture, but instead found a toppled Alfred, lying at the bottom of the stairs and completely unconscious. His glasses were a few feet away from him and his arm was bent uncomfortably underneath him, but the most worrying was the very obvious bump surfacing on the back of his head.
Arthur rushed down the stairs and for the umpteenth time slid on the slick wooden floor. He cursed under his breath and knelt near Alfred.
Then, as quickly as he had come, he left the room in a rush and dashed into the kitchen in search of a land-line phone. He furrowed his brow when he found nothing and ran back into the front room, sliding on the accursed wooden floor that would surely cause an injury some day. He knelt down next to Alfred and turned him over so that he was lying on his back, nearly having a panic attack when he saw blood pouring from the unconscious teen's nose.
Arthur gulped and lightly slapped Alfred's cheek, trying in vain to wake him. He tried shaking his shoulders, flicking him in the forehead (which he berated himself for immediately after), and even tugging at his hair, splayed behind him and stained in a single streak with blood.
Finally, after he got the idea to pull on his funny cowlick, Alfred's eyes cracked open.
"That hurts." he mumbled.
"Sorry!" Arthur said, high-pitched, and flinched his hands away.
Alfred groaned and tried to focus his eyes, failing and seeing nothing but blobs, blurs, and warped colors. He shut them tightly and heard Arthur take in a breath.
"Stay awake!" he heard him say, but it was so hard to, because damn it hurt to be awake right now.
Alfred cracked a single eye open and was met with a blurry, shirtless Arthur that slowly came into focus, all pale skin, green eyes, and skinny torso.
What a good day, Alfred thought to himself, before blacking out once again.
USUKUSUK
-blows nose loudly-
Urf. Sorry for the delay! I was... preoccupied. With things. Such as anime conventions and babysitting my satanic little brother. That and I beta my seme's fic on the side. It's called Lost in a Story and it's USUK, WW2 era. I highly recommend it. It's be great if you checked it out, but don't feel obligated to just because I said so!
Anyway. This chapter was cutesy to write until the end, in which I got the genius idea to cause our dynamic duo some pain. Heuhuehueeheu.
Until next time.