Author's Notes:
I really have to stop going so speechless when I read your comments. I don't think that's possible, though. I'm just so SO happy by everything that I read ;w; I want to thank EVERYONE who reviewed because they brighten my day so~ This includes Apple-Cola, Sobubbles1, Trumpet-Geek, XxTenshIxX97, Brixland, I Am One With Mother Russia, Otaku Kyari, Pureh, FoolishLittleDuck, Mesmerize Bulls, baconis1priority, Waytomuchadoaboutnothing, PunkIggy, MissKitty23, alguien22792, Miss Panopticon, Yuu-chi, bluebird99 and bambooHP.
Also, I also want to thank everyone who faved/alerted this story. Too many people did it, so I won't write ALL of their names down, but I did recognize a few of my favourite fanfic authors in there, and I'M SO HONOURED, SOB ;w; Thanks again, everyone!
Addressing some general questions brought up by reviews: They are in a high school, which is all that matters. International or not, you can choose as you like. And yes, they are both 17, for the sake of the story, though Alfred's younger by a few months. And patience is the key to all rewards. Remember that their relationship has just started and that many more developments, for the better or the worse, will soon come to pass. That is all.
Things written in bold and italics are things Arthur writes on his marker board. You'll see why he needs one as you read.
Chapter warnings include: Not much, really. Lots of self-bashing and self-hate. And boy love. But I think that you're cool with that if you're reading this. Enjoy~
Arthur woke up to the feel of something soft in his face. A wonderful aroma was in the air, and he took a deep breath, warming his lungs up. Something tickled his nose, finally prompting him to open his eyes.
Sunlight hit his face full-on and he rapidly blinked before realizing that someone's hair was in his face.
Namely, Alfred's hair.
But he couldn't bring himself to pull away. It all seemed so peaceful, so picture perfect to him. One arm under his head to act as a pillow, the opposite hand intertwined with Alfred's left hand. Alfred was leaning his head painfully on his upper left arm as he slept, his right arm extended and draped over Arthur's waist.
For a moment, Arthur wished they'd never have to move.
And then he realized how embarrassing the position would be if Alfred awoke.
So, making sure not to wake the American, he unwillingly untangled their hands and gently bent Alfred's arm so that it was supporting his head better. He then shifted and sat up a bit, enough to notice that Alfred had spent the night (or whatever parts of it he spent sleeping) laying down by his side and sleeping half sprawled on the floor, half on the couch.
Arthur winced, knowing the poor boy would have many neck and back pains once he awoke. Why would he sacrifice his own well-being to stay by Arthur's side?
That's when memories of last night rushed back, and he felt his throat lock up.
"Oh Alfred..." Arthur bit his lip and extended his hand to caress the sleeping American's head. He stopped an inch away, though, and silently watched the rise and fall of the other's shoulders before deciding against it and cradling his hand to his chest like a wounded animal.
Thankfully, that was the moment that Matthew came in, holding a platter with food and drinks on it. Arthur immediately looked up, but relaxed when he noticed that it was someone familiar (as familiar as a kid he'd met and who'd taken care of him yesterday could get).
"Good morning. Slept well?" Matthew asked out of courtesy, knowing that the answer was a dull and plain 'no' for both of them. Who in their right mind would be able to enjoy a night of sleep after going through traumatic incidents or cleaning up after said traumatic incidents?
Arthur wondered if the emergency staff in the ER or the ICU ever slept well.
"I brought you and Alfred breakfast. Figured you'd need to get your energy." 'Because you looked pretty damn dead yesterday night.' Of course that part was left out.
As Matthew set down what Arthur realized were maple syrup and pancakes, he moved to thank the boy, only to find that he couldn't say a single word. Panic surged through him as he grabbed at his throat, unable to make a single sound.
"Oh, it's normal." Matthew quickly reassured him, noticing his plight. "Your vocal cords are damaged, so you won't be able to speak much for the next couple of weeks. It's a common after effect of strangulation, but you should recover."
'I hope.' was another thought that was left out.
"Until then, I found this." Matthew smiled, pulling out the erasable marker board he had set the plate or pancakes on and handing him a marker. "You can use it to communicate until your voice comes back."
Immediately putting it to good use, Arthur quickly scribbled down a hasty, but genuine "thank you" on the board, showing it to Matthew with the best smile he could muster, considering his situation. He really hoped his panic-stricken heart wasn't altering his mask.
"It's no problem, really." The younger teen smiled brightly.
There was a small silence, and Matthew was just about to leave when Arthur suddenly wiped his message with his hand and started scribbling something else down. Matthew stayed, raising a curious eyebrow, until Arthur had shown him what was written.
"Why are you helping me?"
"Why wouldn't I help you?" Matthew blinked incredulously as if it were the most obvious question in the entire world.
Mistaking his incredulity for anger, Arthur quickly shied away and scribbled down another brief message.
"I'm sorry."
"Why would you be sorry?" Matthew asked again, genuinely confused.
Arthur scanned his eyes nervously, then erased his message, writing another one.
"I don't understand. I have never done anything to please you, so why would you help me?"
"Oh, Arthur..." Matthew's eyes saddened. "Sometimes, you don't have to have an alibi to care about others, you just do. Not because there is personal gain in it, but because your heart tells you it's the right thing to do."
Arthur furrowed his large eyebrows, confused. Why would a person help someone else when there was nothing to gain from it? Why would anyone care if there was no prize at the end? He always had to please his father with the hopes that he would be loved, but... Maybe he hadn't tried hard enough...?
"I don't understand... How may I repay you?"
"By getting better. Alfred is hurting because you're not okay, so if you get better, he'll be happier, and his happiness is also mine."
Oh. So once again, it was Arthur's fault. If he hadn't gotten hurt, Alfred wouldn't have been worried and sad, and he wouldn't have made someone as innocent and unconcerned as Matthew sad, and-
"I didn't mean it like that." Matthew sighed, noticing the guilty look in his eyes. "Just... Get better soon."
Arthur looked at him for a while longer, then nodded, erasing his last message. Next to him, Alfred groaned, moving.
"Looks like Al's awakening. I have to go now. Tell him I'm gone to the local ice skating rink, okay?" Matthew smiled, going for the front door as soon as Arthur nodded. "Good day, Arthur."
Arthur only managed a small smile before turning his gaze back to Alfred. Sighing noiselessly, he shook the American with the hopes of rousing him.
Alfred awoke with a cry of surprise, making Arthur jump back lest he be bitten. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he looked up and cracked his neck painfully, whining.
"G'mornin'." He slurred, making small moans of pain as he stretched his back, cracking his spine audibly a few times. Arthur winced and grabbed his marker board.
"You didn't have to sleep there, you know."
"I didn't want you to feel abandoned..." Alfred muttered, a blush dusting his cheeks. Arthur didn't know whether he should smile or feel offended.
Thankfully, the smell of food caught Alfred's attention before Arthur could decide on what to do with his feelings.
"Sweet! Pancakes!" he grinned, immediately separating the stack into two smaller stacks and pushing Arthur's serving onto a plate that he handed to the Brit enthusiastically. "Mattie makes the best pancakes, you have to taste them!"
Nervously looking at the food, Arthur shook his head.
"I don't want to impose on you, nor your brother, nor your parents."
"You're not imposing. Mattie never does anything he doesn't want to do anyways, and mom and dad are gone on a weekend-long convention and will only be back Monday after school." Alfred punctuated the sentence by shoving the food into Arthur's hands.
Arthur looked at the buttery, maple-syrup dipped pancakes, his stomach doing flips. Of course he was hungry, but he didn't know whether he could handle food or not. He tried pushing the plate again, but Alfred sighed, getting up and sitting next to him, cutting a piece of pancake and holding it up to his mouth.
"Please, Arthur, remember what nurse Eliza said?"
Oh, right, he was struggling with a physiological problem and had to make efforts to remedy to it. How could he have forgotten?
"Three meals a day, at least 7 hours of sleep a night." Alfred reminded him, prodding at his lips with the syrupy piece of pancake. "Please eat."
Later on, Arthur would deny that it was the worried desperation lacing Alfred's words that prompted him to open his mouth and eat the bite, but for now, he only looked away and opened his lips wide enough for the pancake to fit snugly. As soon as it was in and that the fork was out, though, he snatched the utensil away from Alfred and blushed.
"Alright, alright, I won't feed you, but..." Alfred laughed, affectionately looking at Arthur. "I want you to eat it all."
"Yes mom." Arthur would have said if he could speak.
The two ate their breakfast in silence, still lost in their own thoughts. And then, Arthur's thoughts wandered back to yesterday night (or that morning, as a matter of fact), and more importantly, what had been said towards the end.
Alfred loved him.
Arthur didn't want to acknowledge it.
Arthur didn't want to acknowledge that maybe he, too, did love Alfred back.
Because real life didn't work like that. Only stories did. Two random people who have hated each other for years don't just fall in love and ride off into the sunset on a white horse to live happily ever after.
But... Alfred had said he had loved him for a long time now... Perhaps their story wasn't so impossible after all...
But what about him? What about Arthur? Did he love Alfred with the same passion the American held for him? Because if he didn't, he'd only be lying to himself, and to Alfred.
"Alfred doesn't like it when you lie."
And it mattered to Arthur. It mattered that his behaviour was irking Alfred, because he didn't want him to drift away. He didn't want them to drift apart.
That's why their love was impossible.
Alfred and Arthur would be happy for a set amount of time, and then one of them would realize that it's just a fling and would leave the other heartbroken. Or worse, the two could stay together forever, and Alfred's destined soulmate would never find him. The poor woman would be left, wandering alone, never to find the person at the end of her red string of fate because Arthur, of all people, had stolen him.
It would have been his fault either way. For not being good enough, for not being a nice person.
Suddenly, he didn't feel so hungry anymore.
With a clink, he let his fork drop on his plate, pushing the plate to his lap. He struggled to chew and swallow the bite he had in his mouth and his stomach lurched unpleasantly when he did. He retained the urge to throw up. His stomach felt heavy, his heart like lead, and he felt dirty, gritty, slimy for existing.
Alfred immediately noticed the other's discomfort and turned to face him worriedly.
"Is everything okay, Arthur?"
"Alfred doesn't like it when you lie."
And yet he still nodded 'yes'.
Alfred looked at him, making him feel slightly self-conscious, so he turned away. Soft hands suddenly cradled his face, though, gently turning it back to meet Alfred's eyes.
"You don't have to hide anything from me." Alfred smiled gently, running a thumb over Arthur's cheek and causing a shiver to go through his body. "I love you, remember?"
Yes, yes he did remember, in fact. But he wished he didn't. Life would have been so much easier if no one had bothered loving him. Now he actually had to deal with loving someone back, and after years of being underappreciated, he didn't know how he could handle the shock.
Alfred had already told him the three sacred words a dozen times. Why couldn't he say it just once?
Arthur just averted his eyes.
"You have to talk to me, Arthur. You have to communicate so I can help you." Alfred whispered worriedly, every word sending another delicious puff of hot air on Arthur's face. Their faces were so close, their noses almost touching. Arthur yearned to lean over and close the distance, feel Alfred's lips on his. How would they feel? Rough and chapped? Soft and smooth, maybe? Perhaps they were dry... Or perhaps they were perfect.
Perhaps they weren't even destined for Arthur to take.
"How about we go to the police today?" Alfred asked pleasantly, never letting go of Arthur's jaw, never breaking the gaze he had set on the Brit's perfect face.
To that, Arthur only shook his head and pushed Alfred's hands away. The hurt was clear in his eyes, but Arthur figured that it was better to hurt now than later.
"Arthur?" Alfred questioned gently, watching as Arthur scribbled on his board.
"Don't want to."
"You have to! Your dad just tried to kill you, you can't let him get away with that!" Alfred protested.
"Don't have proof."
"And those bruises on your neck?" Alfred put a hand softly to Arthur's throat, making the latter jump and pull the cover up to his nose fearfully. "They're proof, Arthur..."
"Anyone could have done it, especially that you and Matthew touched me already."
"We could get him arrested for years and years of verbal and psychological abuse." Alfred gently intertwined his fingers with Arthur's, staring pleadingly into his eyes.
"Still no proof."
Alfred stared hopelessly at him before sighing and nodding.
"I see." Clearly, Arthur was avoiding the issue with poorly-constructed arguments, but Alfred wasn't about to bring that up right now. They'd have to take things one step at a time. Starting with Arthur's extremely low self-esteem. "Look at me, Arthur."
Arthur slowly looked up, confusion clear in his exhausted gaze.
"Don't be afraid of the world because the world's not afraid of you. It will hurt you without a second thought, and you have to be ready for that. You have to be ready to take steps to ensure that it'll never hurt you again." Arthur looked away, ashamed, but Alfred immediately snapped his head back up. Fear sprung in Arthur's eyes, making guilt churn in Alfred's stomach. "Sorry."
Arthur looked down.
"Don't be ashamed of yourself, Arthur. You're beautiful the way you are, and I don't want you to think otherwise. You shouldn't listen to what other people say about you, and you should never change, because you can't get any better than this. I fell in love with the Arthur in front of me right now, and if you changed, you'd be breaking my heart."
"That is inevitable. Whether you change or not, you will undoubtedly break his heart in the end. Besides, he only loves the Arthur he sees. Does he really know you? He knows what you like and what your habits are. He doesn't know what kind of a monster you truly are, deep inside. How disgusting and filthy and inhuman and unworthy you are in reality. Let your fake identity reject him. He can't get close enough to see beneath your layers and learn how pathetic you are."
Arthur shivered. He hated it when the ugly voice in his head pushed him down like that. The worst part was that... these were his own thoughts echoing in his head. He was a monster. There was no denying it. Alfred had fallen in love with a beast wearing an angel's skin.
"Please don't think you're any less of a person than I am, Arthur. And don't push yourself too much to be better, because you don't need to. You're already perfect." Alfred tried a comforting smile. Arthur simply grabbed his marker board and shakily put the marker up to write.
"I'm not perfect. Dad doesn't love me, which means there is something wrong with me." He made sure Alfred read it before erasing and writing something new. "I have to work harder so he can accept me. I just want him to love me."
"Oh, Arthur, you can't work yourself much harder than this unless you want to burn out." Alfred sighed. "I know it might be hard for you to understand, but... Someone who tried to kill you will never love you."
"Liar!" Arthur wanted to scream, but no sounds came. Tears rushed up to his eyes, and he desperately tried to blink them away.
"LIAR!"
"I'm sorry, Arthur. I'm sorry." Alfred whispered, his heart wrenching at the sight of Arthur, so distraught and panicked, and desperately trying to cling to the last shreds of his comforting lies.
Arthur didn't reply, and wouldn't have, even if he could. Because he knew Alfred was right. He'd known it all along, ever since his father started verbally abusing him on daily occurrences. But he didn't want his mask to break. He didn't want to admit to himself that everything he'd known up to now was a lie. That he'd been living a lie. A lie he created himself.
"Alfred doesn't like it when you lie."
Well, damn Alfred and his knack for ruining every wall Arthur had built up around him all these years. How come this simple kid had managed to break through all his defences and had claimed his heart? It wasn't fair to lose (or had he won?) so quickly, not after he'd spent so long protecting himself (or was he slowly killing himself?).
Slowly, the realization sunk in.
He'd been chasing a mirage all this time to hide from the truth. His father would not love him now if he hadn't loved him before. And he would kill himself if he kept trying.
"Please come back, Arthur." Alfred whispered. "Please come back. I don't want you to die for a lost cause, I want you to stay, to open your eyes, see how beautiful life is when you're not chasing a single unreachable goal. I don't want you to focus on the impossible because it's killing you, you're killing yourself, and I want you to look around for every single little thing you've missed all this time. I've always been here, Arthur, and I haven't realized up to now how much I want you, how much I need you, how much I lo-"
Alfred suddenly stopped as delicate fingers touched his bottom lip. Face frozen, he looked down to see Arthur thoughtfully touching his lips, wondering how nature had allowed such a beautiful man to exist. How nature had allowed a horrible person like himself to deserve a perfect man like Alfred. Why Alfred had chosen Arthur to deserve him.
"Not because there is personal gain in it, but because your heart tells you it's the right thing to do."
Matthew had flat-out said it. Alfred was implying it. Could it be that... it had been possible for Arthur to be happy without having to exchange anything for his happiness all this time?
Oh god.
What kind of a hole had be lived in all this time? What had he missed all his life?
"Arthur...?"
His heart wanted him. His body wanted him. His mind was still bumbling with thoughts, but one of them stood out like white chalk on a clean blackboard.
"Go be happy, Arthur. Go live your life to its fullest. Go enjoy what you've missed and don't ever look back."
Arthur had never loved the little bipolar voice in his head as much as he did now.
Slowly, his fingers left Alfred's lips, and he leaned in. He knew it was wrong, that he was probably ruining someone else's chances with Alfred, that he was surely going to turn Alfred's life upside down, that his life would surely be turned upside down (for the better or for the worse?), not to mention that they were two boys, but god, his heart was telling him to go for it. No regrets.
For a moment, Arthur flipped society the middle finger, and their lips met.
As soon as they kissed, though, Arthur parted, leaving lingering heat in both their bodies. Pleasant shock was rippling through Alfred, who slowly grinned, but Arthur just looked down, like a child caught eating cookies before dinner.
He couldn't do this. He'd enjoyed it. He just wanted to protect Alfred. He loved him. He didn't want to drag him down. His heart knew he wouldn't be able to.
"That was... amazing." Alfred smiled, petting Arthur's cheek enthusiastically.
"It didn't last a second."
"Doesn't matter. I loved it. I love you." Alfred leaned in again for another kiss, but met with resistance under the guise of Arthur's hand.
"I'm sorry, Alfred. I can't love you."
"But you do."
"I don't want to."
"Do you hate me?"
"I don't. I just can't love you."
"Why not?"
"You can get better than me."
"You're the only one I want."
"You're a stubborn git."
To this, Alfred grinned his infamous million-watt grin and ruffled Arthur's hair affectionately.
"It's in my nature. Love me now?"
"I still can't love you."
"Why's that?"
"I've never loved and never been loved before. I'll only end up hurting you."
"Then let me be your first and your only. I love you too much to let you go, so you're not getting rid of me no matter what you do." Alfred smiled, taking Arthur's hand and playing with his fingers lovingly.
"Alfred, you don't understa"
Alfred put his hand on the marker board before Arthur could finish writing, prompting the older teen to look up, confused and slightly hurt. Hadn't Alfred asked him to communicate? Was he doing it wrong? Had he angered him?
"There isn't much to understand. I love you, you love me." Alfred smiled reassuringly, kindly gazing into Arthur's eyes. "I'll show you what real love is. I'll kiss your eyelids when you sleep, I'll make you breakfast, I'll help you with math, I'll hold you when you're scared, I'll carry you when you're tired, I'll laugh when you laugh, cry when you cry and I'll never leave your side. And you'll just have to love me back."
"That's the problem, Alfred." Arthur's gaze saddened, and he erased his message with a trembling hand. "I don't know how to love you."
There was a small silence as Alfred read Arthur's message, the board shaking slightly with Arthur's hand. Then, Alfred gently took the board and marker away, setting them down, and slipped Arthur's hands in his own. With gentleness neither knew he had, Alfred leaned forward, pressing his nose against Arthur's.
"I'll just have to teach you, then."
Their lips met again, and sparks exploded. It was a small kiss, just lips, but Arthur soon fell into it, responding by stealing feather-light kisses on Alfred's lips. Their hands never left each other.
Alfred felt like the happiest man on Earth. Their kisses were chaste and insecure (on Arthur's part), but they were conveying a different message. One that Arthur wasn't able to say with words and that wouldn't mean a thing on the marker board.
This was Arthur's way of saying "I love you."
Author's Notes
Dat misplaced USUK. Unf :D
About Arthur: he won't be speaking for a while now because of his vocal cords. Usually, recovering from strangulation takes a very long while, but hell, this is fan fiction, so I'm gonna shorten it to a couple of weeks. With no permanent damage. Because I'm a sap and would kill myself before making Artie a permanent mute.
Also, like I told someone in their review reply, and extremely eloquently at that, too, Arthur has a huge inferiority complex, drizzled with physical trauma, sprinkled with psychological abuse and neglect and with a big fat case of low self-esteem on top. And oh, guess what, you guys. The people who read the story completely on the kink meme will be able to tell you that he'll become dependent on *INSERT WORD HERE C:* later on. Poor Arthur's not gonna have it easy. Neither will Alfred, actually. Their relationship's gonna have a LOT of ups and downs. At some point, a very BIG down. But I won't say more, lest I spoil it for those who are reading this for the first time C:
Also, kink meme readers, you'll be able to tell that I added a couple of passages that weren't there before. I deemed it necessary to stress how Arthur's psychologically responding to the current events. Remember that this has just begun. Remember that there will be much more fluctuation later on. The story still has about half a dozen chapters left.
Uhm yeah, that's pretty much it. All comments welcome~ Please review C:
