Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rights go to the respected owners. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I do not own the song lyrics used.
A/N: You guys have been absolutely great to me with this story, really. I know I reiterate that every time, but it's true. Thank you all, for the alerts, favorites, and reviews because they mean so much to me :) On a side note, if you had followed my tumblr and I magically disappeared, I'm sorry. It's quite a long story, but basically I deactivated then reactivated and I have a new account with the url of iggycat. I feel a bit bad pimping my own tumblr, but I miss you guys, and I'd be really grateful if you gave me another shot :) Anyway, after a long wait, here's a long chapter. Hope you enjoy!
7-6-41
My dear Arthur,
Oh goodness I miss you. How long has it been? Almost nine months already. You know that I carried you around for nine months? What a wonderful time that was...But that was so long ago and I'm sure it's not what my young and growing boy wants to hear.
I know I ask every time, but how are you dear? Have you resumed playing football with Alfred yet? The weather's been a bit nicer lately, as I'm sure it is out in the country. The country which is so far... oh I just miss you so much, love.
Things here, dare I say, seem to be looking up. Not a single bomb has been dropped since late May, and I've heard rumours that the war may be over before the year is out. Still that is rather hard to believe with all the precautions still in effect. Though a plane is yet to be seen in weeks, the blackout is still in full effect. Do you remember young Ms Carter from next door? She's helped me paint the windows black, so not a drop of light comes through. Let me tell you, I stuck it to the ARP officer when he came by. No more lectures or legal advisories for me!
In addition to the blackout, we're still abiding to these rations as well. I haven't bought a new dress in over sixth months, Arthur. I know that's not very important to you, but to a woman that's absolutely horrid. But not all is lost I suppose. Just last week, I've gone down to the local RAF base and purchased some used parachute silk to make into undergarments and nightgowns. Making do and mending is fine, but I'd still like a new pair of knickers!
I've run out of room on this piece of paper, and I'm sure you understand that I can't spare another as of now. I miss you so much, sweetheart, and I think of you everyday whilst waiting for your reply letters.
All my love,
Mum
June 16th, 1941 19:45
Alfred and I were playing cards during the evening as we listened to some wartime songs. Actually, I wouldn't consider all of them to be grouped under that description. Just a few moments ago they played "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" by Judy Garland. Alfred commented on how old it was, considering the record was released in 1939, but I didn't much mind. It was nice to have some variety in the radio; to have a lovely voice tell me there was a place beyond this war torn sea, land, and sky. But wait, if those are the thoughts it brings to my mind, did that make it a wartime song? I honestly don't know anymore.
A radio sounder caught me off guard, and I turned to face the contraption. Alfred actually stopped leaning over in an effort to peak at my hand, and listened as well.
"This is breaking news, coming from the BBC. We've just confirmed reports that the United States of America has closed all German and Italian consulates. This comes just two days after the US froze all German and Italian assets. The complete reasoning for this action is uncertain, but it is assumed that the United States condemns such actions of the Axis powers. Thus far, the country remains neutral, and an official from the White House has declined to comment. This is BBC news."
The radio turned to static for a moment before some music resumed. I looked away to find Alfred dropping his cards and heading to the stairs.
"Where are you going?"
He didn't even pause as he made his way up the steps. I copied his actions and followed him upstairs.
"I'm gonna ask mom to take me to town. I wanna buy a newspaper."
"A paper? You just bought one two days ago!"
He halted in front of his mother's bedroom door and matched my gaze again.
"Ya I know. An old newspaper's not gonna help much is it Artie?"
He turned back for the door handle, but I grabbed his wrist, effectively stopping him.
"Since when do you care about the news?" I asked him seriously. Alfred had never given a damn before.
He frowned and tried to pull his hand from my grip but I held firm.
"Since important things started happening, that's when."
He stopped struggling and looked me in the eyes.
"'Important things?' We're in the middle of a war! What the hell does that mean?"
Alfred hardened his stance, and stood firm. He didn't try to escape to his mother's abode.
"It can mean whatever you want it to mean. Since when do you care anyway?"
I really didn't want this to turn into a fight, but I suppose I should have seen it coming. My eyes widened at the abhorrence in Alfred's statement. But I wouldn't pull away. I already knew what Alfred meant by "important things." I'd known the whole time. To me, it was just a fact of Alfred confirming it. He turned back toward the door, but before he entered I found my voice.
"You only care about what America's involved in!"
I said it. What both of us had been avoiding for awhile but knew to be true.
"Today with the consulates, and two nights ago as well. You only care when the US is concerned!"
Alfred flinched away from the door and turned to me.
"That's not true," he tried to sound solid, stern.
"But it is," I reminded him. "When have you ever considered anything else important?"
Alfred looked angry. He took a step forward, still trying to keep his calm.
"Plenty of things have been important," he struggled to make it sound offhanded, and that really set me off.
"Oh really? Then where were you when the Navy finally sunk the Bismarck, or when Allied forces had to evacuate Crete?" I took a step toward him, and this time, he took a step back. "Where were you when the RAF bombed the Ruhr and Brest? What about when the Allies invaded Syria and Lebanon? Where the bloody hell were you?"
I all but screamed the last part out in Alfred's face. He'd flushed bright red by now and did not look happy at all.
"Shut up," was all he'd said at first, and I'd just followed up with a glare. The second time he was louder, as he put his hands on my chest, "Shut up!"
"You can't tell me what to do."
I pushed him back, and that got Alfred absolutely furious. He pushed with much more force this time, and I actually hit the wall and crumbled to the floor. My head hurt a bit from the impact, but I managed to look up in time to see Mrs. Jones exit from her bedroom, only clad in a towel. I'd been wondering what took her so long to hear us, but I suppose that explained it. She glanced in between the both of us, looking even more indignant than Alfred as she shouted:
"What on Earth happened here?"
I just glanced away, and Alfred must have done the same because she got no response.
"Alfred F. Jones, you'd better look your mother in the eyes right now."
I turned back to find the sheepish boy cautiously turning to eye his mother. I have to say I would have done the same thing had I been Alfred. I'd never seen his mother act this way, so I would have been vigilant too.
"And you," my eyes met with Alfred's mothers. "Stand up Arthur."
I did, quite honestly out of fright.
"I don't know what happened, and neither of you seem inclined to tell me," she started, shifting her eyes between the two of us. "But that's fine, since it doesn't concern me. You're both only hurting yourselves."
I would have made some snide comment on how no, actually it was Alfred that pushed me into the wall, but now was not the time nor place for it.
We were both silent for a few more moments as we let that sink in.
"I'm not going to spank either of you, nor will there be any punishment for this," Alfred and I actually flashed a look of disbelief at each other; were we really getting off scot-free? "But what I will do, is stand here, all night if it takes that long, and wait until you apologise to each other."
Oh. I don't think either of us expected that. We weren't being punished, no, but this did require each of us claiming fault and apologising. It didn't sound that bad, but my damn pride still got in the way. I wanted to forget it. I wanted to stop puffing my cheeks out, trying to be intimidating and I really did just want to apologise, the way Alfred had done after our argument a few months ago.
"Why are we fighting over this? There's already a war on, the last thing I want is a fight with my best friend."
His words were ringing in my head, but still I didn't say anything. He must have been rather choked up as well, since almost fifteen minutes passed, with the only sound being Mrs. Jones tapping her foot against the floor.
"Let me make this a little clearer," Alfred's mother spoke up after the elongated pause. "You two are friends. Best friends. And I will not stand to have a microcosm of the war enter my household."
I sparred a glance at Alfred, and he really looked terrified. I wondered if he even knew what the word "microcosm" meant.
"We all have our fights, heck, Alfred's father and I have our squabbles, but you need to get over them," she leaned down, though just a bit, since Alfred was almost her height. "Apologise to him. Because I know you can, and I know you want to."
Alfred blinked, soaking that up, and Mrs. Jones moved over to me.
"You should apologise as well. I can't read you, like I can my Alfie, but I'm sure you care just as much."
She leaned back up and put her arms akimbo. A smile crossed her face and she grinned brightly.
"Also, because you two were kind enough to interrupt my bath. If there are no apologies in the next five minutes, you'll be spending the evening scrubbing my feet and then massaging them."
Needless to say, Alfred and I made up very quickly.
When Mrs. Jones was pleased, we made our way downstairs, and Alfred insisted we make our apology official at the tire swing.
"I'm sorry. Really, I had no right to question you like that. I hope you're not too mad."
"No, it's ok. I forgive you. And I'm sorry I pushed you. You're ok right?"
A ghost of a smile graced my lips.
"I'm fine, Alfred. Britain is strong remember?"
"Course! How could I forget?"
And as we made a promise under that swing to never have another fight, I found myself wanting to believe it, but knowing it couldn't be true.
July 4th, 1941 21:30
I'd be lying if I said I hadn't been planning for Alfred's birthday for months. I wanted it to be every bit as special as mine, though the present may not be tangible. Still, I did want to make him suffer just a bit, like he'd done to me. So when he leaped onto my bed this morning, effectively waking me up and asking, "Arthur? Do you know what today is?" I answered with a playful "Friday?" He frowned, no surprise, but a quick peck on the cheek wiped it right off his face.
I completely ignored the fact it was Alfred's birthday for most of the day. Throughout the morning and afternoon, Alfred asked me questions like "Soooo anything planned for today?" as he'd drum his fingers nervously along whatever surface was available.
"If you sit quietly, I'll read you an excerpt from The Great Gatsby."
That quieted him down, and surprisingly he took the offer. I asked him about it later but all he had to say was: "I like your reading voice."
But nonetheless, I did have something planned for Alfred, I was just waiting for it to be time. I'd thought about it for awhile now, wondering what I could do for the boy. He'd probably be content with just spending the night snogging, but I wanted something more than that, I wanted something he'd remember. So when his mother finally announced she'd be turning in for the night, Alfred all but jumped me like an excited puppy.
"Tell me we're gonna do something, Artie. It's my birthday for Pete's sake!"
He Eskimo kissed me and I smiled.
"Whose Pete? Someone I should know about?"
Alfred's whole face broke out in a grin, and he rolled over so I was on top of him.
"Nope! No one could replace you, Arthur."
I didn't know what to say to that in all honesty, so I just laid my head down on Alfred's chest and listened to his heartbeat. It was comforting to me, just as his singing or smile was.
"Happy birthday, love."
We laid on the floor for a few more moments, until I actually managed to pull myself away from Alfred. I stood and offered him my hand, which he took and did not release.
"Since you've been oh-so patient, I'll tell you that yes, I do have something for you."
He smiled and nudged his nose into the crook of my neck. He started kissing me but I wriggled free.
"Al!"
He giggled and recaptured my hand.
"Sorry. Continue."
I let my face cool, as I looked away and spoke.
"Well I don't actually have anything for you... the war hasn't exactly improved in the 3 months between our birthdates..."
I know I shouldn't have beat myself up over this, really I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help it. Even though Alfred also hadn't had a present for me in April, he'd given me something for Christmas, and so much more. I suddenly understood why he'd wanted to give me a gift I could touch and feel; it was something I could keep and remember him by.
"Hey, Artie it's alright," he gently squeezed my palm. "We already both agreed that we have the best presents in the whole wide world."
If my cheeks had cooled at all in the past few minutes, then they reheated right away. I smiled and looked back at him.
"I know, it just..." I trailed off not really knowing how to put it, but I knew Alfred understood. His eyes told me so much more than his words did. "But... even so... I will have something for you next year. Mark my word."
A grin spread over his whole face, as he brushed away my fringe and planted a kiss on my forehead. When he pulled away, I knew I was red from my toes to the tips of my ears, and Alfred's chuckle affirmed it.
"Alright Artie. I'll hold ya to that, but right now, let's make do with what we have."
"Ah, right."
With Alfred's bigger hand entwined with mine, I lead him over to the radio. I turned it on, and lowered the volume so as not to disturb Alfred's mother. Once done with that, I tuned it to a music station, and started to wonder if this was silly. Similarly to how I'd thought writing Alfred a poem was... not the best idea.
"So... my birthday present is listening to the radio with you? That's fine, I guess."
I hadn't realised I was caught up in my own thoughts until Alfred broke me from my daze. He was staring at me with that dopey smile, and bright eyes. I punched him lightly in the arm.
"Idiot. Do you really think that's what I planned? Listening to music together? We do that nearly everyday."
Alfred scratched the back of his neck, but kept that innocent smile on his face.
"Well, I don't know. I can't read your mind or anything, and really, anything you have planned is fine with me."
My lips curved upward, and most of the uncertainty I'd been feeling fell away. I tried to keep myself calm as I looked Alfred in the eyes.
"I was thinking that maybe," I averted my eyes to the floor. It was just too embarrassing. "...maybe we could dance."
Just like when I read the poem, I waited for Alfred's mocking. But it never came. Instead, when I glanced back at his brilliantly blue eyes, I saw nothing but excitement.
"That's a great idea!" he shout-whispered, if that's even possible. Then in a much quieter voice, "I mean... it would be great... if I knew how to dance."
Alfred's grin was still in place, but it was now surrounded by rosy red cheeks.
"You don't know how to dance?" I'd asked him stunned. My mother had signed me up for lessons when I was no more than eleven.
"Well, no..."
"I'll teach you."
Alfred lifted his gaze and I smiled encouragingly.
"That is, if you're willing to learn."
"No yeah, of course!" he supplied quickly as he lifted our linked hands, and put his other on my waist. "This one goes here right?"
"Yes...if I'm taking the woman's role..."
"Which you are, because it's my birthday, and you're the most awesome beau in the world, right?"
My face bloomed red and I suddenly found my socks, very interesting.
"Fine..."
Alfred giggled for a few moments, and my face heated even more. I was embarrassed that I was taking the woman's role, but at the same time, Alfred had just called me his boyfriend, and for some reason that caused something to grown and swirl inside of me. I would have pondered it a bit more, but light fingertips, raised my chin and brought my vision directly into Alfred's blue pools.
"Teach me how to dance, love?" he mocked my accent, but it set my heart aflame. I had to look away again, as I started to give him instruction.
"Well, we'll start with a standard waltz because that's fairly easy," I met his eyes again, this time serious. "But you're going to have to lead, alright?
"Gotcha."
I spent the next half hour teaching Alfred the 1-2-3-4, technique, and repeatedly having my foot stepped on. By the time he finally got it down, I had my head resting on his shoulder, and our hand positions had been completely overlooked. Alfred's palms were now clasped around my waist, while I had one against his chest, and the other on his right shoulder. It just seemed so much more natural that way.
"Artie," he piqued at the start of some new song, I hadn't been paying attention to. I'd been moving my feet to the comforting sound of Alfred's heartbeat, since I found that to be a much lovelier rhythm.
"Mhmm?" I raised my head and Al was smiling so genuinely, that I couldn't help but mimic him.
"I think this song is about you," he said, as he rested his head next to mine.
I started listening to the lyrics of the slow song.
"Well, Green Eyes with their soft lights
Your eyes that promise sweet nights,
Bring to my soul a longing, a thirst for love divine."
I flushed and continued to listen.
"In dreams I seem to hold you, to find you and enfold you
Our lips meet and our hearts, too, with a thrill so sublime."
"Well damn, I'm pretty sure it's about you now. I dream about you all the time," he paused for a moment then added: "But your lips don't taste like lime..."
I giggled, and would have commented, had Alfred not joined in on the singing.
"Those cool and limpid Green Eyes
A pool wherein my love lies
So deep that in my searching for happiness
I fear that they will ever haunt me
All through my life they'll taunt me
But will they ever want me?
Green Eyes, make my dreams come true."
Alfred leaned in, and I did as well. We shared a long and sweet kiss as a female voice took over and re-sang the verses. The moment was perfect, I might even dare call it sublime, but when the pretty voice spoke it's last line, and Alfred broke away to sing along, I thought the moment would end.
"Green eyes, I love you."
"You're a terrible romantic, you know that?" I smiled shyly.
"But you like it. You're blushing," he pinched my cheek and I brushed it away.
"Maybe I do..." I mumbled and even though another song had started, I leaned up to Alfred's ear.
"Blue eyes, I love you."
July 7th, 1941 12:15
Only a few days after his birthday, a package arrived addressed to Alfred. It was yellowed, and battered, but the two of us could still make out the return address in the corner.
"It's from my New York. My grandparents must have sent it!"
I stared at the parcel for a moment, and slowly reached out to touch it. It was a silly impulse, I know, but this paper, this package had come from so far away, from a place I'd never and probably would never go to, and my first instinct was to touch it.
"Have your grandparents ever sent you anything before?" I asked quietly, and pulled my hand away.
"Well not often since it's gotta travel pretty far, except for every once in awhile when they send me a letter, but," he paused as if for effect. I rolled my eyes. "They always send me a present for my birthday. I remember every one since I turned two!"
I smiled and eyed him, disbelievingly.
"Oh? You remember what they gifted you at the ripe old age of two?"
I saw as Alfred's smile faltered and eventually fell.
"Well no... but I do remember my mom telling me about them sending her diaper money as a birthday present."
I couldn't help but snort, and Alfred's plump, flushed cheeks did not help matters.
"Artie!"
"Alright, alright, sorry," I mumbled, but had to bite down on one of my fingers to keep from laughing. Alfred huffed until I eventually got myself together. "Ok I'm fine. Please, open your package."
"Are you going to laugh if diaper money falls out?" Alfred asked seriously.
"Yes," I truthfuly assured him with a smile on my face and he looked horrified. "Oh come off it Alfred and open your present."
That seemed to do the trick, and Alfred's peppy aura returned as he made quick work of the paper. When the front part of the envelope had been ripped away, he halted suddenly and made no further moves. From where I was sitting I could only see the back of his parcel, and so I leaned in to get a look at what had made Alfred stop so suddenly.
They were mostly red white and blue, with some yellow mixed in throughout. Three of them, maybe a hundred pages a piece, with bright covers and the list price of 10 cents. There was a man depicted on each of them, someone I'd never seen before, clad in a bright blue suit with a dashing white star on his chest. I didn't know who it was, but then again, I had no interest in this type of thing. Though when I looked back at Alfred, with his smile verging on ridiculous, I knew he couldn't have been happier to see this new superhero; one that might even relate to him.
"Captain America?" I asked a bit skeptically but with a small smile on my face.
Alfred nodded his head up and down so quickly, I worried it would fall off his shoulders.
"Arthur you have no idea how great this is! I haven't read a comic book in years! And look," he commented eagerly, poking at the cover. "He even beats up Hitler in the first issue!"
I couldn't help but smile, even though I'd been doing that a lot lately. Alfred just had an effect, that made you want to grin, for no apparent reason and with no warning whatsoever. At his insistence, I snuggled up next to him as he read me the March, April and May editions of the brand new comic. Somewhere in my heart I knew my birthday present to him didn't even compare. But that was ok... because the real gift was his smile.
14-9-41
Arthur,
Do you really have to go back to school in September? Well not go back, but be homeschooled? That's too bad, since back here, 14 has become school leaving age. I don't have to return this year, but I almost wish I did. I'm sure you know that lots of kids have had to step up and take work that's been left by all the men who've gone to fight. I got a job too, just about two weeks ago, working for the post office. I didn't think it would be too bad, honestly, what could be bad about riding your bike around all day delivering telegrams? I mean, so long as there isn't a daytime bombing, I'm safe, and the job would be pretty relaxed. At least that's what I'd thought before I delivered my first message. Arthur... I didn't realise that the only telegrams that get precedence and immediate delivery now a days are the ones coming from the War Office. I don't know how many mothers and sisters and wives I've made cry just by handing them a sheet of paper. I can't even imagine... to have so little as a note telling you your father, brother, husband or son is missing, dead, or dying... Gosh, Arthur, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to go off on that little tangent, but I just wanted someone to know. I hope I never have to deliver a telegram to you, or anyone else quite frankly. I just want this war to be over, and I want you to come back so instead of using my bike to deliver terrible news, I can use it to ride to Piccadilly's Circus with you, and we can buy Cokes again like we used to. Do you remember that Arthur? I do, and I miss the taste of pop. But I would rather our soldiers have it than I do. Anyway this note has gotten much too long. I look forward to your response as always!
Sincerely,
Matthew Williams
November 18th, 1941 22:50
"Where did the summer go?" Alfred whispered to me one night.
We were cuddled up together under his sheets, and I was making the most of his body heat. Ever since that day which feels like forever ago in May, Alfred would often tell his mother that I was frightened, or scared for some reason, just so we could sleep together. Even on bright nights, when the stars shined, and there were no storm clouds in sight, he would come up with some type of valid reason for the two us sharing a bed.
Surprisingly enough, even though I knew it was wrong (though we weren't truly lying) I never really had a problem with Alfred's often odd pretexts.
"He was frightened of the thunder. It reminded him of the bombs," had been the original and valid story. His mother sympathized, and had no problem with it, and since then, excuses like "He's having flashbacks," or "The dark scares him. It reminds him of the blackout," have worked perfectly well.
So that's how I wound up next to Alfred's warm body, dozing off, to the sound of his smooth breathing.
"Artie? Didja hear me?" he wrapped his arms around my waist, and pulled me flush against him. Alfred had always been touchy-feely, but I could swear he was becoming more so.
"Mhm seasons change, Alfred," I mumbled and got more comfortable. Alfred's warmth and the content feeling in my stomach was really doing me in. I think he said something after that, but I really can't remember since I drifted off...
I woke up to the sounds of quick footsteps on the floor. There was no pattern in the way they moved, and their owner was clearly in a rush.
"Move, Alfred, gotta move faster."
That voice? I knew that voice. Sitting up slightly in my bed I wiped the sleep from my eyes. I'd been right, Alfred was the owner of that voice, and he was rushing around his room in a frenzy.
"Al?" I piqued worriedly and he stiffened. I watched as he turned toward me, several pairs of socks in both his hands. "What are you doing, Alfred?"
"Go back to sleep, Arthur," he said monotone and didn't even offer a smile. He leaned down and I saw him deposit the socks into a large suitcase. I was getting concerned now.
"Alfred? Are you packing?" As I ripped the covers off, Alfred started moving faster. He zipped up his bag and lifted it like it was nothing.
"No, course not. Go back to bed, Arthur."
He slipped out the door and down the stairs. Needless to say I followed him. The house was deathly eerie as we made our way downstairs, and Alfred headed to the front door.
"Where's your mother?" I asked, as Alfred started toying with the lock.
"Gone."
He yanked open the door and walked briskly through it.
"Gone? Where has she gone? And where are you going?"
I had to run to keep up with Alfred, who was headed to the family car parked on the street.
"Go back to sleep, Arthur. It's better this way."
He reached the car and threw open the back seat. His luggage was loaded next, and before he had the chance to slip inside, I caught up and grabbed hold of his arm. He looked down at me, and I suddenly noticed that his eyes were a dull gray, not their usual sky blue.
"Alfred!" I shouted pleadingly. "What's going on? I don't understand!"
He was trying to shake me off, but I kept the best hold that I could on him. Glancing back up, I noticed too, that his hair was dulling, going from gold, to blonde, to pale leaving it ghostly white. I didn't know what was going on.
After a few moments of struggling, Alfred seemed to give up and just sighed. He hovered over me with those lifeless eyes.
"Arthur we talked about this. I'm leaving."
The blood in me stopped flowing.
My grip loosened.
Alfred pulled away.
"What?..."
He seized the opportunity that came with my moment of hesitance, and took a seat in the car. From a quick glance, I could see his mother and father sitting in the front, also gray and unmoving. I didn't waste time moving my eyes back to Alfred, to find the rest of his colour draining. His skin, his clothes, everything was melting into shades of black, white and anywhere in between.
"I've gotta go now Arthur. The plane leaves soon."
"Plane? What plane?" I knew I sounded hysterical now but I couldn't help it.
"America's pretty far. I probably won't see you again."
I'd tried to hold it in, but I felt the liquid trickle down my cheek. Alfred's father started the engine.
"No...no you said you wouldn't go!"
"I'm sorry, Arthur," he muttered, but there was no compassion. He was gray now. So was the car, and the sky. I looked down at my own hands, and saw the colour vanishing from them as well.
"No, wait," I said looking back up, shocked to find the car was gone. But I'd never heard it leave! Where did it go?
"No... no..."
I was shaking my head back and forth, dizzy from the emotion, movement, and tears.
"Alfred..." crept out of my throat, getting consistently louder. "Alfred. Alfred!"
I'd started running forward but the car was nowhere in sight. I must have tripped over a rock, because I would up on the floor, motionless, but that didn't stop my voice.
"Alfred?"
"Alfred!"
Come back...
"Arthur!"
Alfred shook me awake, at least I think I was awake.
"Arthur?" he asked alarmed, holding my gaze. "Arthur you were sweating, and shaking. You really freaked me out."
I looked down at my hands for a second. They were pale yes, but there was an off-white pigment granting me colour. I moved back up to find Alfred. He was there. Right next to me, holding me, and his hair was golden and his eyes were that electric blue. I could still feel my breaths coming heavy, but I moved closer and dug my head into Alfred . I clung to him for dear life.
"You're here. You didn't leave," I mumbled into his top. Oh god this was wonderful.
"Artie? Shh calm down you're still shaking," he'd mentioned while soothing me again. He does that so damn well. "Let's go get some fresh air, alright?"
I don't think I was in the best state of mind as it was, so I did as told, and followed as Alfred lead me down stairs. Though this time, he was walking much slower and it didn't seem like he was going anywhere... I kept a death grip on his hand. If he noticed, he didn't say anything.
There was a chill in the air, that immediately reminded me I was alive and conscious. It was pretty cold for late November, but I didn't really mind. The major contrast from the warmth of the bed, to the cool temperature outside actually helped to ease my mind. I had something to think about other than my horrid nightmare.
Though not for long.
"Artie?" Alfred spoke out of nowhere. I hadn't realised we'd ended up at the tire swing. I hadn't even realised we'd stopped walking.
"Sorry, I'm not thinking straight," I apologised and Alfred laughed quite quietly.
"It's okay," he said, leaning himself down on the tree trunk, and pulling me in between his legs. "Here, sit down, stay awhile."
He grinned, and I just barely returned it. Alfred noticed.
"Arthur what happened? Did you have a nightmare?" he asked soothingly, no pressure in his words.
I frowned down at the grown and nodded. Though... would you consider that a nightmare? No one died. There wasn't even any blood.
"Do you wanna talk about it?" he encouraged. "Whenever I used to have nightmares, I'd always tell my mom, and then I'd feel a lot better."
Alfred rubbed his thumb along my knuckles. Why was he always calm and collected when I was a mess? I nodded discreetly, and Alfred squeezed my palm.
"Go on then."
I kept my eyes trained on the floor.
"You were in it... my dream."
I wondered if Alfred frowned or smiled.
"Uh-oh. I sure hope I wasn't trying to kill you or something."
That actually got me to smile, and I met those lively, coloured eyes again.
"No, nothing like that," I giggled, but it quickly fell away. "You did something bad though..."
I saw him frown this time, and I didn't like it one bit. It didn't belong there, on his face.
"What'd I do?" he asked warily. I tried to duck my head again, but Alfred caught my chin. "No, not this, Arthur. Please tell me. I want to know."
Just like all the times before, Alfred was being truthful; as genuine as possible. He was actually going to care when I said:
"You left me."
His eyes brightened like the moon.
"What?" he asked as though he'd heard wrong.
"You... you packed up your things and left. Not much more to it."
There was a pregnant pause that followed, which I had no idea how to interpret. Maybe he was contemplating it, or maybe he was wondering why I clung to him even in my dreams. I was about to intersect, when Alfred spoke.
"Arthur... I'd never do that to you."
His eyes were shiny, almost wet, and they for some reason looked vulnerable.
"You know that right?"
I was staring at him completely shocked. Most words caught in my throat, but I did manage to speak.
"I-I know you said that before, just-"
"When I said it earlier it was true. And as I say it now it's just as sincere. I'm not going to leave you Arthur," he paused to smile then pointed at the swing. "See? Now you even know it's official!"
We were only fifteen, young by most people's standards, but I was sure I'd found something in Alfred that I would never find in anyone else. So even though there was a war on, and we'd only known each other for a year, I took Alfred for his word; because I believed them to be true.
December 7th, 1941 19:20
No. This wasn't happening. This was all wrong, terribly wrong. The BBC must just have an error, ...a rather huge error. They must have read the story wrong. Yes, that's it, this is all just a big blunder, right? ...right? Somebody please tell me it's a mistake...