Beyond Our Sight
By Ryukansen
Chapter Seven: One More Memory
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Author's Notes: Sorry, useless chapter - maybe? Perhaps? Not really? Review please! I am a busy college student these days.
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The following morning everything went well as planned. Arthur was currently receiving some of the best behavior from the ghost; of whom was nearly obeying his every whim and command out of sheer guilt conducted from last night's talk.
Alfred was serving up tea despite his initial protests upon first meeting; and he was getting a hang of boiling the water with an old fashioned kettle and stove, and adding up the packets containing who knows what inside? The ghost was overenthusiastic, though, much to the Briton's obvious irritation; but that was because it was morning and he hadn't had a good night's sleep after pondering about Alfred's strange traits compared to what "normal spirits" were like.
"Hand me the coaster, will you please?" Arthur replied silently in a deep reverie as he gazed at the ghost who had solidified for a moment to bring the flat, thatched object towards him.
The young American cautiously handed the coaster with a small smile; but for some reason Alfred seemed to be concentrating a little too much on the object he was handing away.
Arthur could immediately tell that something was off as he stared at the youth who happily lodged the item onto the table without a second glance back. Blue eyes averted away as if to hide something; but Arthur didn't want to necessarily pry into the ghost's business despite what others would think.
Because even though he was a prick at times, he was certainly, mostly a gentleman despite what everyone else would think of him.
"Are you feeling well?" Was the Englishman's first question as he steadily watched Alfred with a wondering tone in the edge of his voice. "If you aren't feeling well, you can stay here for today while I start my research in the library." He continued on while taking one more sip of his Chamomile Tea.
The blue-eyed wonder stared at him in a nervous glance; before he sat down, limp, on the other side of the room. "What makes you think I'm not feeling all to well?" The ghost replied with a cheery remark. Sky-blue silently stared into forest-green eyes with an awkward silence infiltrating their area.
"N-Nothing!" Arthur snapped with agitation as he placed the teacup onto the coaster with a rather forceful slam. He didn't want to pry into the idiot's privacy; however, it bugged him to death to see that Alfred, his bodyguard, was even trying to hide something from him.
The cup swirled in a rather slow motion as it gained it's balance, landing softly onto it's base. Alfred stared quietly at the cup with a realization of Arthur's upset nature. A small smile crept unto his lips, but he definitely did not want to talk about what was going on with him. He knew how much it might have bugged the young Brit, but he also knew how important it was for him as a bodyguard to relax the young man from worrying.
After all neither a bodyguard nor a hero upsets a damsel.
"I'm perfectly fine, Artie." The American breathed as his eyes glazed a bit towards the Englishman who seemed ready to fume. It was amusing for Alfred to see Arthur so upset over a ghost's silly problem, and he found the young man especially adorable whenever he pouted in that way; his green eyes glistening as if he were to cry and puckered lips that were ready to quiver at any given moment.
"Besides," He continued while staring at the Briton with a soft smile spreading across his complexion, "I want to see what you do for a living." He announced while puffing his chest in excitement and pulling out an umbrella from Arthur's closet in a hurry.
Arthur stared quietly at the umbrella in the young American's hand. Alfred looked as if he were going to drop it if he didn't clutch onto the item so hard. The Briton could actually tell the ghost was having a hard time in holding the item as his nails dug into his ghostly flesh. Alfred also seemed to be squirming as he gazed quietly at the side of the room; trying to ignore Arthur's following gazes.
"Alfred, do you want to tell me anything?" The Englishman breathed as he closed his eyes while hoping to dear God that the American would at least admit something was wrong. He didn't like how Alfred kept a secret behind him; and he hated when he knew that secret was probably important.
"Nope, nothing at all." Chirped the daft blonde as he turned around from the Brit's room while opening the umbrella inside the house. Again. Arthur was going to scream at him at the top of his lungs, but the ghost immediately ran away outside the apartment room, himself, before getting lounged at by the angry Brit.
As Arthur wrung the ghost's neck, with Alfred laughing at his weak attempts, he could feel how even colder the ghost had gotten from yesterday; and it was amazing at how frigid the young man felt against his own warm fingertips.
There was definitely something going on with the idiot American, but the daft fool was too stubborn to even tell him.
And he was even more stubborn to break his habit of being a gentleman.
"Mommy, what is he doing?" A child's voice rung with a tone of interest, and he stopped strangling Alfred while gazing up at a young girl.
She had blonde hair, lighter than Alfred's, and they were curled into beautiful ringlets. Her eyes were dark emerald, and she had a tint of pink spreading across her cute face. She wore beige caprice and a baby blue dress shirt that fell to her knees.
She held tightly onto her mother's arm as she stared at Arthur, who was (in her eyes) sitting on top of nothing while crouching down and holding nothing with his arms in a tight manner.
Arthur felt foolish, but Alfred kept smiling idiotically underneath him.
"Darling, don't even dare look at him." The woman instructed while heading straight across the street with a rather dignified air about her. The girl stared at him with one more glance, until the mother tugged her hard, forcing the young girl to face away from the awkward man.
Arthur gritted his teeth and got off the American while patting the dust off of his daytime clothes. He sighed while rustling his hair with his free hand (his other hand held tightly onto the American's tie).
"From now on, you do absolutely nothing unless I ask for your help." The Briton ordered while huffing and taking his tote bag and marching towards the direction of the oldest library in town.
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First of all Alfred didn't know the town even had a library. Second of all, the library was so small and weak looking he almost seemed to burst in laughter with how pathetic the ancient housing's foundation was.
It was a crimson colored store; with poor shingles loosely falling off the rooftop. Broken window shutters fluttered carelessly from the wind's harsh breezes, and there were even cracks amongst the windowpanes that barely even reflected one's own image.
"Oh, shut up." Arthur retorted while they entered the town's official library. Alfred was ready to laugh, but held it in due to the Briton's orders. There were lots of bookcases despite it's outward appearance, but nevertheless, it wasn't as huge as a normal library Alfred was used to.
The Briton instinctively delved into the deepest corner of the store; his hands traveling alongside the paneling of the books' spines. The Briton was used to coming over to the library; it was one of his favorite places other than the Tea Shop.
There was no one who even dared enter the library; from what Arthur knew. The only one who ever came was the bookkeeper, who didn't even care whether or not someone stole a book or two. Besides, books weren't really popular in this poor, unintelligent area.
"What are you looking for?" Alfred asked as he stretched himself, touching his hands on the ceiling that was barely inches away from Arthur's own head.
The room was so stuffy, Alfred hated the feeling of how close everything seemed. It was like prison; he was too confined in one area!
"None of your business." Was Arthur's automatic response as he took a book that read Ghost Convention in golden text. "Why don't you go find your own book to read while I look around a bit?" He demanded more than asked, and pointed off to a random direction while trying to shoo the American away with a swish of his hand.
Alfred slumped his shoulders, pouted, and left with irritation as he crossed his arms and stared into the library with boredom. He never really liked going to places like these. So many things, needless things, that were boring and nothing but letters to see! He hated these places a lot, he could remember his first time going to the library…..
He could remember?
The American blinked in surprise as he recalled the first time he went with his mom to the library to rent out a children's book.
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The room was bustling with children eager to learn new things, like read and write, and have just plain "fun". But to Alfred F. Jones it was nothing but pure hell as he sat through the nursery doing nothing but gazing at the children reading the pictures with excitement or trying to spell something readable with the spelling blocks of various colors.
The six year old stared bewildered at how those children were having fun with stupid, petty things like building blocks and books! He knew it meant well to teach them a few things; but to him, learning was never fun despite all the promises of teaching them without knowing it.
Alfred was a kid who enjoyed running around, climbing trees and using up his energy; not thinking and using his head to solve difficult problems or spell words he would never use again.
Education was always more of a forceful event for Alfred then an exciting learning experience. The toddler sighed as he sat down by himself on the edge of the carpeted stairs. His toes were barely touching the other step as he gazed down below him at the other kids having fun with the educational tools the nurses had given them.
"Alfred, why don't you read?" One brunette asked as she sat down besides the boy who only grunted while swinging his legs childishly, but naturally. "It's not fun doing things alone, I'm sure if you read a book - you'll spread your imagination more and have fun with the other kids." The Nurse suggested to him many things, but he would never take them up. Never.
The children never really spoke to Alfred. Partly because he was different. Not in a strange way, but it was due to his way of being.
He was a runner, a climber, an adventurer, but in the nursery and primary school he was put in they were all thinkers, philosophers, and the other types of people he just couldn't get along with.
The Nurses grew worried over him despite his claims of being happy without friends, but they would never give into his "okays" and "I'm alright" phases.
After a couple of days, with the Nurse's constant complaints to his mother of Alfred's inability to make friends or advance in his learning, his mother stared sternly at him with a frown while picking him up in her arms.
If he could recall, his mother was an intelligent woman. Always working in an office and wearing a business suit ranging from various violet shades.
She had pearly blue eyes, and long golden hair that fell to her shoulders whenever she chose not to wear a bun; and most of all she had a perfect smile that would always trace her lips in the right way.
He didn't know what she was going to do. Normally she would stay quiet and hold him in her arms while telling him how naughty of a boy he was, but today was different.
She was holding him in her arms, as she walked rather swiftly with a dignified aura around her. She was adamant about doing something, but he didn't know what she wanted to do.
Thirty minutes later he found himself in a new world surrounded by the things he hated the most.
Books.
Various books were piled into neat stacks. Novels, leather bound, hardbacks, paper books, and children's stories groveled on the floor begging him to open each and everyone of them.
He stared at distaste as his mother propped him on the floor while opening up a small text in her huge palms.
"Alfred, why don't you read this?" She whispered while scooping him up and pointing at a picture of a puppy. He gazed at it hard while he turned his head around in disapproval. A small pout childishly hung on his face as he crossed his arms and began to whine. "If you don't start reading, you'll be made fun of." His mother warned as she traveled towards the counter, picking up more books along the way, and checking them out.
"You want to be a smart boy when you grow up, right?" Her voice was smiling as they traveled out into the light illuminated by the outdoors.
It was so bright, he could barely open his eyes as they walked into the new light.
"Mommy!" Called another voice towards their direction, and she looked around facing some other child from out of the blue….
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"What are you doing there, goofing around?" Arthur asked as he waved his book in front of the young ghost who had seemed rather frightened out of surprise as he held tightly onto a picture book he randomly took from a shelf.
Arthur peered over the American's shoulder as he stared at an awfully drawn picture of a dog with no leash; crying and begging to come back home. The title written on it was, The Lost Puppy.
At first the Briton blinked furiously trying to comprehend the book the American had absentmindedly chosen. After a few seconds his face turned a pale white and then into a strange, flushed pink. After trying a poor attempt to stop himself from bubbling in laughter; the Englishman dropped his own book on the floor, carelessly, and began to chuckle loudly while covering his mouth from any disturbing sight.
"Don't tell me you only read picture books, Alfred." He mused with a heavy sigh as his green eyes twinkled.
Alfred had never seen Arthur smile and laugh like that before, and only seemed to grin, himself, despite the aching in his heart forming because of some unknown past. Arthur was continuing to laugh while the ghost was trying his best to mock a chuckle.
"You are very childish, aren't you?" The Briton smirked as he bent down to scoop up the book he was holding. Alfred stared silently at the leather bound novel, engraved with silver text, named Spirits and Powers. "Well, let's go, shall we?" The Englishman chuckled while walking out of the library; ignoring the sleeping librarian. Alfred stared absentmindedly back at the book; frowning, while chasing after the Briton.
