Disclaimer: I own nothing including works that are alluded to. Rights go to the respected owners.
A/N: Not much to say this time around. Thank you so much for your continued support with this story. All the reviews, favourites, etc. mean the world to me! Enjoy :)
December 18th, 1940 14:30
"Alright boys, settle down please. I know how much you love insulting each other in foreign tongues but we still need to get one more small lesson in today."
I looked up at my best friend's mother, who also happened to be my instructor. Smiling politely, I glanced from her back to the lad beside me.
"Désolé madame. Alfred ne peut s'empêcher que c'est un idiot."
His mother chuckled lightly, and Alfred paused from where he'd been poking my side with the rubber on his pencil. He gaped at me confused, and when I offered no assistance, started scouring his French-to-English dictionary for a translation. Mrs. Jones and I exchanged a smile and gave Alfred a few minutes to decode my charming message.
"Hey!" he suddenly snapped, resuming his poking pattern on my ribs. It tickled a bit through my cotton shirt, but I refused to let Alfred in on that.
"What?" I asked in an innocent tone, as Alfred's eyes watched me warily, "All I said was that you're best friend I've ever had."
The boy's cheeks became tinged with pink, and for a moment I thought I'd said something wrong. He opened his mouth to speak, but was shortly cut off by the sound of his mother's voice.
"Alright boys. No more bickering now. Al, Arthur was just having a little fun with you. It's harmless really." She grinned at her son, and pat him on the shoulder as she walked past him toward a book shelf in the southernmost part of the library. I squinted to read the title as she chose a leather bound book from a shelf that looked rather old and dusty. Alfred could be heard sighing next to me, and as I turned to face him, he lightly elbowed my ribs.
"How much you wanna bet it's another piece of ancient crap?" He said whilst slumping his shoulders. I wanted to answer him, tell him that old works of literature weren't "ancient crap" but I opted to keep my mouth shut, rather than risk looking un-cool. However, it seems that not everyone in the household was as subtle as me with their opinions.
"Oww!" Alfred whined as the leather book collided with his head. "Mom!"
Mrs. Jones was grinning while rolling her eyes. She made her way back to the front of the room giggling and holding the weapon that actually managed to get through Alfred's thick skull. From where she was standing now I could read the golden lettering on the work she was holding. I blinked my eyes, ensuring I'd read it right, and a feeling of pure delight fell over me. Alfred had been completely wrong; this was a lovely and amazing piece of literature.
"Serves you right, Alfie, for judging before you even know what you'll be reading next."
Alfred sighed dejectedly, and turned toward me.
"Well at least one of us looks excited."
The smile I'd had on dissipated into a frown, and I could feel the rose spewing onto my cheeks. Lovely, now it seemed as if I was excited over something so trifling to Alfred. So much for trying to be cool, calm and collected… I must look absolutely horrid now, and on top of that, Alfred will think I'm sad or somethi-
"Hey it's alright," my glance shifted back toward my friend from where it had been on the floor, "I didn't mean that like an insult, Artie. I know this is like your forte, so it's no surprise you'd like this kinda stuff."
How had I called that? I pondered it awhile as I shifted a little from my place on the floor. Was I that overly-emotional? Did Alfred really notice my tiny frowns? My chain of thought stopped when I felt something at my fingertips. Alfred had laid his hand down on top of mine and was looking at me intently. He really did have pretty eyes… wait…
"Arthur? You forgive me right? It was just a joke; ya know like the French one you told earlier?"
His hand clasped down on mine and squeezed, awaiting my answer. I don't know why that gesture felt so foreign and sent my heart racing, but I knew enough to pull my hand away as quick as possible. Alfred looked almost a bit hurt as I hurriedly nodded at him and muttered a quiet, "…yeah I know…" It felt so rude to have done that, but his mother was there and watching, and my heart was racing, and something was clearly wrong with me. Perhaps I need to see a doctor…
"Alright boys, we really do need to get this lesson started. Before we start reading I want both of you to get out a fresh sheet of paper and a pencil."
I did as I was told, and together Mrs. Jones and I waited as Alfred struggled to find a clean piece of parchment. Eventually I gave in, handed him my own and quickly found a replacement sheet for myself.
"Thanks." he said, and I ignored the fact that his tone was a bit less cheery than normal. I hadn't had anything to do with that, had I?
"Excellent. Now that you're both ready I want you to answer a question I'm going to write on the board."
We watched as Alfred's mum made her way to the small chalkboard that was nailed to the library wall. She took to it, and slowly, beautiful white cursive letters appeared on the dark board. When she stepped back, I read the question to myself:
Is there such a thing as "forbidden love"?
I bit the inside of my cheek. How do I respond to that? Of course there's forbidden love, but at the same time, who's to say that love is forbidden in the first place? Ugh… my head hurt. I turned to see Alfred's reaction to the question, but he was already swiftly scribbling his response down on the paper. I leant over a bit to see what he was writing, but he caught me and covered his words with his arms.
"Hey, no cheating!" he said as he offered me a small smile, the missing part of his giddy persona back tenfold. I smiled in return and averted my eyes back to my own paper, glad that he was happy again; any other emotion didn't really suit Alfred.
I mused to myself a few moments longer before finally responding to the question on the board. When I set my pencil down, Mrs. Jones took a seat on her chair in front of us and spoke once more.
"Good, I see that both of you are done. I'm not going to force you, but would either of you like to share?"
She looked at me and my mouth formed a straight line. Usually I was always one to share what was on my mind, but with this question, I just couldn't be brought to do it.
"I'll share."
Alfred smacked his lips together, and chuckled as I stared at him in shock. His mother on the other hand looked pleased and urged him to continue.
"Please do, Alfred."
He stood up from his place on the hardwood floor next to me, and situated himself in front of the chalkboard before both his mother and I. He shifted on his feet a few times, seemingly nervous, before he calmed his movements and looked me directly in the eye. Smiling, he kept those pools of sky focused on my green.
"I don't really think there is such a thing as "forbidden love". I think that if two people really love each other, and really want to be together, they'll find a way around the obstacles. People or things may be able to cause problems and dilemmas, but in the end true love will prevail. I don't think that love can ever be "forbidden" because in the end, it's so powerful that it really can't be stopped."
His mother clapped, and clapped, but for some reason Alfred was not deterred. He kept his eyes glued on me, staring expectantly, waiting for my response. I was speechless; truly and utterly speechless. I'd never thought that such beautiful words or thoughts could ever come from a boy so dense. Yet… something else nagged at my insides. Again with my heart skipping beats, and now my brain was fusing together new thoughts as well. I didn't know what to make of it, new and strange feelings about me, and Alfred, and love. It was all too much and I willed for an off switch in my brain. But of course instead, my mind continued to control my thoughts, actions, and worst of all, my words.
"That was beautiful…" I muttered before I realised what I was saying.
The tenseness around Alfred lifted and he offered me the biggest smile I'd ever seen. He took his seat next to me, slightly closer than before, and whispered a word of thanks in my ear.
"Thanks, Artie. That means a lot coming from you."
Red dotted my cheeks again, and I was just now beginning to understand why. Did I like Alfred? No that couldn't be. Surely I'd lost my marbles. Boys don't like each other; that's not how it works. Love between two boys… that would be… that would be…
"…forbidden…"
"What was that Arthur?" Mrs. Jones inquired, as she made eye contact with me.
"Oh, nothing. I'm sorry to have interrupted, please do continue."
"Certainly."
She flipped the bound book in her hand to the correct page, and settled into a comfortable position in her chair. Within moments, words filled my ears that had been written in England more than 300 years ago…
Two households both alike in dignity,
In fair Verona where we lay our scene
From ancient grudge, break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean:
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes,
A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life…
December 22th, 1940
"Hey Artie, there's a letter for you," he squinted a moment and continued, "And I don't think it's from your mom. The return address is different."
"Is that so?"
I peeled my eyes away from the book I'd been reading as Alfred came over and sat down next to me on the couch. He lifted up the blanket I had sprawled across my legs and snuggled in against me. I didn't protest since Alfred had started doing this ever since the cold weather began, and though the fireplace roared in the corner, I welcomed another source of warmth.
"Yeah," he replied as he rifled through the rest of the mail, "It says it's from a Matthew or something."
My eyes widened and I stared at Alfred in disbelief.
"A Matthew? As in a Matthew Williams?"
The American cocked his head before pulling out said letter and scanning it once more.
"Mhm. Matt Williams. I take it you know him?"
He handed me the letter and I ripped open the seal. I absolutely loved receiving letters, though they were usually from my mum. Somehow I felt a connection to a life outside of the war through simple scribbled words on a piece of paper, sent in a yellowing envelope.
"Matthew was one of the few people who didn't ignore me back in London. I might go as far as to say he was a friend… perhaps my only friend."
Alfred smiled, albeit sadly. He always seemed to pity me when I spoke of my friendless past, though I knew the lad was no stranger to loneliness.
"Well go on! Read it!"
I removed the letter and unfolded the flimsy sheet of paper. For once Alfred remained quiet as I read out loud.
"16-12-40
Dear Arthur,
Hello… well what an awkward way to begin a letter. I apologise, but I really don't know how I should even start this Arthur. Maybe a good place would be how I even got your address in the first place. Well... to be blunt, I got it from your mother. I don't know if you remember or not, but I'd gone to Canada during the summer of 1940 and returned to England at the beginning of October. I went back to school, and soon thereafter I realised you weren't attending classes. After a month had past and you were still yet to show yourself, I informed my mother and she told me plain and simple that you were most likely dead. "War is an awful thing sweetheart, poor and innocent boys can't win in a game they don't know how to play." That's what she actually said to me, and then she told me that you were probably in a better place now… I was sad to say the least. Another month passed, and as I'd failed to cope with your death, I thought it best to go and see if your house still remained and whether or not you were really gone. I was a bit surprised when I got there… your flat still stood, though I had passed several buildings on the way that had been reduced to mere rubble. I went upstairs and knocked expecting for nothing but silence to answer me, but instead I was pleasantly surprised. Your mother answered the door, and despite your absence, managed to smile brightly at me, as she always had. She took me in, insisted that we have tea and we started a conversation. She told me she'd thought it was in your best interest to be evacuated and that you were living with an American family now. I asked if she might have the address so I may write to you, and well… here we are. I don't have much else to say, though I do have many questions. How are you? How is the countryside? And most importantly, what is the American family like? I've heard that they can be rather loud, but at the same time can be some of the kindest people you'll ever meet. Well honestly I'm just rambling now. I hope this letter reaches you, and if it reaches you before the holidays, I wish you a very good Christmas.
All the best,
Matthew Williams"
I smiled to myself, and my body felt warmer after reading that letter. I'd surely been lonesome back in London, but it was nice to know that someone still cared. Turning my head I could see Alfred, and I sighed and smiled softly at him; yes, it was nice knowing people cared.
"Hey, we're not loud!" the boy beside me practically screamed in my ear.
I chuckled and saw that Alfred was pouting now. I shifted a bit on the on the couch, and as a subsequent reaction, my American friend also moved a bit to stay nestled next me. He calmed and finally decided to rest his head on my shoulder. Was it strange that I felt extremely at ease when he did that? I'd been thinking of my strange feelings for Alfred, and while I acknowledged they existed, I still did not delve into them. In effect, they were hidden away, but I continued to soak up every little bit of affection Alfred handed out to me.
"I'm not loud, right Artie?"
He lifted his head a bit to make eye contact with me and I stuck my tongue out.
"You're about as quiet as the air raid siren, Alfred."
He frowned and turned, leaning his head back on my shoulder.
"But, Artie-"
"But you're also one of the kindest people I've ever met. And I wouldn't change you for the world."
December 24th, 1940 17:10
"Alfred honestly, for the queen's sake, sit down won't you?"
I giggled as I watched Alfred pace, up and down the hall, apprehension eating him up. Never before had I seen the lad so excited for something than he was right now.
"Artie you don't understand! My dad said he'd be here by three! It's already…" he glanced toward the nearest clock, "It's almost four!"
"I'd hardly call ten after three 'almost four'. Calm down won't you? I'm afraid you'll faint of an anxiety attack."
Alfred turned his bright blue orbs on me sparring me a glance. I tried to convey a little sympathy in the hopes that he'd calm down enough to take a seat and not move around constantly like a looney. He smiled for a brief second and came to sit by my side, though the anticipation was still evident on his face.
"Your concern is dutifully appreciated," Alfred mocked in a horrid imitation of my accent. He sent me a grin, and I really lost any of my will to become angry. Lately that grin had really taken an effect on me. Every time I was blinded by that smile, I thought Alfred all the more charming. The fact that I picked up on the tiniest of ministrations and found them endearing was really starting to scare me a little. I remember this happening only once before, for a pretty red haired girl at school… why on earth was it happening again with Alfred?
"Hey Artie," I'd long grown accustom to my trains of thought being derailed by a cheery voice.
"How many times have I told you it's Arthur, not Artie, git." I smacked him on the shoulder and his grin doubled in size bearing all its pearly whites.
"I think it's kinda cute to have pet names for each other, don't you? You can call me Al if you want to."
Sometimes I wondered if Alfred's cheekbones ever tired from all the smiling he did.
"Well Al," I emphasized, "As kind as your intent seems to be, I still object to such a thing. Don't you find that terms of endearment are only for those closest to your heart? Your mother reserves the right to call you Al or Alfie."
For some reason or another, this caused Alfred to stop and think. We sat in quiet for several minutes, and I started to squirm from the tension I'd unintentionally built into the atmosphere.
"Well Artie," he finally started rather calmly, "I think you're right to say that pet names are reserved for those closest to your heart… but that still doesn't change anything."
My eyes widened, and as my brain told me not to believe it, my heart beat with understanding.
"Wh-what do you mean Alfred?"
"I… I mean that you're really, really special to me Arthur…" his cheeks looked warm and flushed now and I had to kill the desire to reach out and touch them. "Th-that is to say that you're very close to my heart... quickly becoming one of the closes-"
Alfred never finished that sentence, for at that exact moment we heard a key being turned in the lock. The two of us must have been so engrossed in our own conversation we'd failed to hear the engine in the driveway. Alfred bolted to the door, and had his arms around his father the moment he stepped through the threshold. Within thirty seconds I'd gone from being told I was one of the closest people to Alfred's heart, to being left forgotten on the couch.
"Dad!" Alfred squealed, and for a moment my heart sank as I realised I'd never to be able to say that again.
I stood from where I'd been residing on the couch to watch the spectacle unfold. My legs were wobbly and my heart was weak from the sudden rush of emotion. I watched as Alfred embraced his father with love and ardor, and I hate to admit that I envied them. Mr. Jones was the embodiment of what I'd thought Alfred might look like in twenty years. He was tall, fit, blonde and of course he had those captivating blue eyes. Looking at the two of them was like looking into the future; the only difference seemed to be Alfred's unruly hair. And I wasn't the only one to catch onto that.
"I see you still can't get that one strand to stay down," Mr. Jones joked as he lent down and pressed a kiss to Alfred's head. "I missed you kiddo."
"I missed you too dad."
The awkward few moments that passed as the two exchanged pleasantries felt like years to me. I was standing on the sidelines of a family reunion that I'd never be a part of… a family so happy and kind and… American.
I dug my toe into the ground and averted my eyes when I felt them start to swell. I told myself I wasn't mad at the Jones', I couldn't be. After all this family had done for me, I could never bring myself to resent them in anyway. But… even with that being so, I'd be a liar to say I didn't feel a pang of jealousy. Not only was this family warm and loving, but they were together. No piece was missing… not due to death… or because they were separated by a bloody war.
"What do you think you're still doing over there, Arthur?"
Mr. Jones caught me off guard, and when I turned my head, I found that each member of the Jones family was sending me a smile. The man gestured with his arms wide, signaling an embrace.
"Come on, Arthur. You're just as much a part of this family as anyone."
That got me. It really did. I felt a tear drip down my cheek, and I tried to wipe it on my shirt sleeve before anyone noticed. I took a step forward, and then another until I felt strong, warm arm around me. It felt like I was hugging Alfred, only he was older, didn't smell of dirt and sweat, and offered more security. I smiled into Mr. Jones' chest; a silent thank you for his kindness. When I pulled away, he lent down to be eye level with me and offered some of the most thoughtful words I've ever heard in my life.
"Arthur, I know times have been tough on you, and you may feel a bit awkward right now, but I want you to know that by some stroke of luck the Jones family has been honored with your presence and we've never been more contented. All my son writes to me anymore is about what the two of you have done together, and how he's so happy he's made a friend. Even my wife speaks of what a polite, and intelligent lad you are; having a great influence on the family. We may not be related by blood, Arthur, but I want you to know we're still family," he smiled sincerely and I felt so sentimental for having to wipe my eyes again. "I will never be your real father, Arthur, I could never be a man that great, but if you allow me, I'd love to be the best dad I can possibly be to you. Whatcha say?"
I didn't even think about it before nodding my head "yes". Mr. Jones gave me another bear hug and I knew right then and there that I would come to love this family as I did my own. When I looked up and found the youngest set of blue eyes smiling at me, I questioned if I already did.
