Beyond Our Sight
By Ryukansen
Chapter Ten: Brand of Magic
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Author's Note: I'm quite close to the end – but not really? Does that help? Read & Review, anyone?
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It was a light, blearing room. Haunting and oddly familiar; it was frosted with exceptionally cold temperatures and it was coated with a special white, burning wallpaper – unbearable to most people. Nevertheless, the quarter was adorned with extra sanitary bed sheets, comforters, lamps and a table desk of the same color. Everything was left in a unified style and no matter how pretty it seemed it was quite the horror.
Everything was a perfect match or blend of crisp pallor. Everything in the room was spotless, hygienic and showed absolute signs of a perfect, sterile environment. It could be any perfectionist's dream home, and yet it was oddly bloodcurdling.
He could actually smell the cleanliness of the room with just a waft of the repetitive sprays of cleaning solutions, and even the crescent dips of the tiles in between on the floor barely had wedges of dirt or scratches made by numerous skids of people's leather shoes.
Alfred found himself gazing at the room with a dumbfounded expression slapped onto his tan face as he gazed at the uncomfortable area. It was too perfect for him, and yet something screamed at him with a powerful, yet frighteningly sad aura.
A feeling of belongingness surged through him, as he gazed outside the window to find a city lying just right outside of the building. There were strips of competing business chains ranging in from designer's to coffee shops, not to mention there was a huge shopping district right in the middle of it all with gigantic, blue lights spelling out a blurry word that was too far away for him to read.
"Where am I?" The American replied with astonishment while backing away from his view and averting his attention back to the room that intensely bothered him.
It was still annoyingly white and beautiful. His eyes were starting to hurt, and yet he kept them wide open as to keep every detail engraved onto his mind.
A small beating caught his attention, and the American takes time to turn around another time to see where it is coming from. But despite his constant stares for wherever the sound was emitting from, he could not find the device or the origin of the beat.
Constantly turning his head, Alfred finds himself laying eyes on something he hadn't noticed before, but probably should have…
His body ran frigid as he found a figure under the white sheets of the perfect bed, and out of instinct he decided that maybe he should see who was under all of those white comforters?
His blue eyes gazed intensely at the prominent figure; and step by step he found himself getting closer – closing the gap with long strides of his very slender legs.
Stepping closer, breathing harder, and squinting ever more furiously; the American was ready to push the curtain away that had obscured the body's identity – he thought that maybe there was some connection to where he was at; and yet…
His glasses fogged up before he could push the curtain away; and as his fingertips touched the soft fabric of the white curtains he found himself blinking in disbelief.
He was back at the Tea Shop.
"What the hell just happened?" The American asked no one in particular as he stared at the emptiness of the room. The analog clock, hanging from the left corner of the register room read 1 AM, and he found his heart beating in panic. "Was I gone for that long?" He muttered while running a hand through his honey blonde hair.
He had never been this gone for so long, before! The last time it was just a couple of seconds and a few flashes of white, but that was it!
Arthur and he had just arrived at 8 in the afternoon to go to the teashop, so how long had he been really gone? Was he even in the right place and moment? His heart skipped a beat while he spun in a halfway turn and lounged out of the deserted area to Arthur's apartment.
It was an eerily silent midnight; and the only thing that seemed to comfort him was the moon that was constantly hovering near him to give him at least some sense of protection. The ghost's heart was beating so rapidly he swore he could have skipped a few beats due to his increasing stress.
Glasses fogging up just as before the honey blonde, searched frantically for which roads to take. It wasn't because he didn't know the direction to Arthur's abode, but it was because of the interference of panic that had struck his mind to make him irrational in his thoughts.
But the main question he asked himself, other than why he wasn't getting any closer to Arthur's room, while he was running was why was he scared? What was he funning for, again? He felt some strange horror strike through him and he could only find himself in peace if he could just see Arthur warm and safe.
And there.
The first thing he did when he reached Arthur's door was slam it open despite the ferocity of the lock's intended grasp.
Arthur was reading a newspaper while drinking a nice cup of tea before spitting all the contents out with fright as he heard the large door crash into the wall.
"What in blazing hell-?" The Briton grumbled in complete irritation as he ran out to his entryway to find the American gazing at him with terrified puppy eyes, mouth whimpering and body shaking uncontrollably. "Alfred! You're back!" The man replied in relief while he let out a sigh of content; he then gazed at him irritably after finding his door in the corner of his living room; lazily hanging about with no more purpose.
"I-I-I…" The ghost was too much of in shock as he ran towards the Englishman with thoughts racing through his mind. He didn't know why he was behaving like this, but something in him told him that if he wasn't there Arthur would be defenseless. More importantly, something told him that he would soon not see Arthur anymore.
"Alfred, what's wrong?" The Briton was able to muster through the tight grip the American was performing. Alfred laid his head on the Englishman's shoulder, allowing the Briton to stiffen up as he felt the strange coolness of the ghost's body indulge itself on him.
"Alfred, what happened?" Arthur closed his eyes while soothing the American's back before noticing the helplessness cast into those bright blue eyes.
There was a profound sadness lurking in the depths of those sapphire pools and Arthur could feel his own heart wretch in terrible emotion as he got lulled into the American's displeasure.
"I'm glad I'm back." The American murmured truthfully while slightly adjusting his hard grip around the Briton's waist. The sadness was fading away, but exhaustion wrote on his pale face. Alfred was strangely getting sleepier as time passed, and now Arthur was starting to worry.
Sleep was never a possible symptom for spirits – especially ghosts like Alfred. Arthur found it hard as to how the ghost could even manage that! Honestly, Alfred didn't even seem like a ghost at all from what the books told him!
Typically ghost's of Alfred' s caliber shouldn't even have sleeping issues since they eventually fade away when morning arises; and usually dwell in the darkness – but Alfred was strangely staying both Night and Day which puzzled the Briton even further on what the idiot really was.
Alfred continued to embrace Arthur as if he was afraid to let go, and Arthur could feel himself secure within the American's cold grasp. "Are you alright?" The Briton questioned as he pulled away from the American to stare at the tall blonde with a concerned look but a confident smile.
Arthur was never the type to be assuring others, but Alfred looked so fragile and helpless he was easily finding himself as a doting mother reassuring her baby that she was there. The American nodded slowly, but his eyes were closing as sleep was taking over him just like the last time he disappeared, but nevertheless his grip was still hard on Arthur's waist
. Arthur started to panic at the sleepy ghost and quickly found himself lunging at the American and tossing them both down on the floor.
Alfred stared straight into those green eyes with surprise and blush was escaping on both of them as they were in close proximity to a kiss.
"Don't you dare sleep!" The Briton replied through gritted teeth while he stared in disbelief at their position.
The ghost fluttered his eyes opened and gazed into emerald green with a slight confusion. Those confused sapphire pools sparkled as he continued to stare at the awkward liveliness coming from the Briton. His heart was racing in a superior speed; it was familiar.
His heart….?
Oh…So that was what the noise was…Wasn't it? The ghost thought to himself as he closed his eyes despite hearing the Briton's protest.
"You Git you aren't supposed to sleep at all!" Arthur was shouting while punching the American awake. The idiot was still closing his eyes, but chuckling despite the ringing pain on his chest.
"Geez, I'm just closing my eyes, Artie." Alfred retorted with a sly grin appearing on his face. A sudden bloom of happiness reappeared onto him while he took Arthur down alongside him, hugging him in a tight grip while chuckling despite the Briton's embarrassed replies.
So that was what he heard in that room….
Arthur at the meantime was completely baffled at the American's strange behavior, but found himself relieved to be in the ghost's arms despite how awkward that just sounded.
The Briton lay his head against the cold fabric of the ghost's suit; while softly smiling.
For some reason life without Alfred kind of seemed lonely, and he was glad to have the American back despite it only being hours since the idiot's disappearance.
The last 6 hours had been quite a nuisance to the Brit after leaving the Tea Shop without a bodyguard companion. It was honestly hectic, and he seemed to have grown quite unused to his usual lonely parade back to home.
Going back home he had to take a longer route to the apartment as he felt a strange aura surrounding his usual shortcut. He suspected it may be part of the ridiculous team Francis had once joined, and without Alfred, he was truly helpless – neither Epsilon nor the others could do absolutely anything about it.
Upon arriving home the Brit, in depression, after Alfred disappeared and after Alfred and Kiku had that strange enviable contact, Arthur used Mina to concoct a new happy potion for him to enjoy his time without the Ghost.
He assumed if Alfred ever got back to his world (or wherever he came) from, then everything would be better and that he just shouldn't mope all day long.
But as the day proved to him, Alfred somehow made his living a lot more livelier, and he'd be damned to say it out loud, but Alfred seemed to make life a little more – somewhat enjoyable…or rather exciting to put it in better words.
The ghost was indeed no better than Makara, Vrsabha, Epsilon or the others, but the ghost wasn't the same as them either.
Unlike the Zodiacs and other mystical creatures, Alfred was his own brand of magic. Something definitely beyond his knowledge…but he would sooner or later find out what Alfred was.
Finding himself enjoying Alfred's embrace, on the cold floor of the living room, the Briton couldn't help but blush as he felt the American's cold fingertips graze the back of his head, softly, as if the man was petting him in a gentle, but childish way.
The Briton would have scolded him, but it was too good of a moment to ruin, and so for now he would just let himself rest in peace all the while listening to the melody of Alfred's heart….
His heart…?
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"Looks like another car accident happened in the intersection near Coupled Street." Arthur stated lazily while reading the newspaper sidelines and scanning for a bit of juicier news. Alfred was chewing on buttered toast while looking through the various Magical magazines the Brit had been buying from mail order.
It was interesting to say the least, but rather freaky from what Alfred would personally think.
Honestly how many people could find a magazine specifically about voodoo dolls in a friend's home? Not many, he hoped.
The American adjusted his glasses while taking another scoop of butter and slathering it on the toast he made.
As matter of fact, the American had begun taking on the usual daily tasks; and of course, the most important task was cooking – because damn, the Briton couldn't cook for life!
Honestly the green-eyed man nearly burnt water! He swore the color of the liquid was turning black, but obviously (he believed) Arthur had made some strange spell or whatever to make it look back to normal! But he SWORE he saw it turn black! He couldn't mistake it!
"Please pass the – Alfred are you using all the Jelly again?" The Briton grimaced while gazing at the jar of jelly in the man's hands.
"No – this is jam, Artie, not jelly." The American retorted back while scooping a huge full of the sugary sweet while dumping it on his bread as condiment.
"That is completely disgusting!" The green-eyed man chided while frowning with distaste. He plopped the newspaper open to the article he was reading and quickly snatched the jar of jam away from Alfred. "Honestly, even though you're a ghost doesn't mean you should think you can…get away with eating all those sweets!" He replied while screwing back the cap and walking away to put it in some other cabinet Alfred could probably get into anyways.
Meanwhile as the Briton was taking his time looking for an obvious, hiding place – the American stared down on the black text written in huge letters with interest. "Did anyone die?" Alfred asked as he drunk his morning hot milk (since Arthur refused to buy any coffee).
"Strangely no, this time, well not a lot of people die in the crashes, but there are a few huge ones that happened not too long ago…" Pondered the Briton while taking up the newspaper into his arms and staring into the American's blue pools. "Why?" He asked suspiciously.
"I don't know – I was just wondering." The ghost retorted back while finishing his mug of milk and hovering towards the sink to start washing.
Arthur stared quite suspicious of the ghost's sudden question, but decided that maybe it was best not to pry into the twat's business just yet.
"Arthur, I've been thinking…" Alfred replied solemnly as he stared at the dirty dishes with carelessness. The Brit took the rim of his teacup up to his lips as he stopped midway into drinking the hot contents.
"Yes, what is it?"
"Maybe it's time that we figure out who I am?" The American whispered quietly while smiling at the Brit with a strange sadness looming over him.