Chapter Dois

Song: History by One Direction

(seriously… it's a good song. Try it.)

After a few glasses were emptied, both of them began to blur their words as they spoke their minds. Opinions, advice… all thrown into space. João talked about his experiences as a captain and Arthur admitted to being a prisoner, though he didn't say more. The details were still vague. The ponytail brunette insisted on pouring more wine into his glass, but the other refused. They were celebrating the conquering of the spanish ship and saying goodbye, but it seemed to be enough for the brit. Although, it was hard for João to accept his departure. He caught himself thinking about locking Arthur up in his room a few times… But he knew it was morally wrong. He wasn't that bad of a pirate.

Hands brushed over one another, empty promises of sailing the seas together forever, lustful but careful gazes shot at each other as the night slowly became early morning… João wanted Arthur and he wondered if he felt the same way. Meanwhile, Kirkland was worried about him.

What will happen when I leave?

This question haunted his mind, lowering his lustful eyes, appearing concerned. Not only was he worried, but he felt as if he owed João his life. He was the one that saved him that day. What he didn't know was that the Portuguese captain of the Gaivota Voadora (flying seagull) already calculated the times Arthur had saved his ship.

"Arthur." João started gently. "Don't be so worried about me." He smiled.

The aforementioned man was always caught off guard when he showed him such a warm, genuine expression. He couldn't help but smile back. Even though it may be unnoticeable-or awkward to Arthur-, he made an effort to show a piece of his heart to the man he'd admired for what he can assume were years.

"How long have I known you for?" The brit's curiosity would lead him to a dangerous conversation.

"You think I keep track?"

"I think you have a better sense of time than me."

They had a staring contest before bursting out in laughter.

"Dois years." João replied happily. Then, for a moment, he thought about it. "Actually…" Arthur's gaze turned serious as his brows furrowed. "It would have been so if you stayed a little longer."

The atmosphere switched, just like that. The brit looked at his empty glass, then back at the captain. He brought a hand up to his face, dragging it across his features in a slow motion.

"On second thought, I'll take another glass."

Concern painted João's visage.

"Inglaterra…"

João and Arthur had an inside joke where they would call each other Portugal and England-or Inglaterra- because they were from there. The other sailors never understood it.

"Pour me some." He raised his wineglass for more, not letting João have a second judgement.

With a heavy sigh, he did. Arthur nearly drowned himself in his glass before getting into the real conversation.

"Cuidado! Don't want you dying on me!" The other laughed so hard he nearly fell back from his chair. He placed his naked feet on the desk to make it seem otherwise.

"João."

"Hm..?" A chill ran down his spine.

"I think you deserve to know what happened before you found me."

"..." He simultaneously took his feet off and he leaned forward, surprised to hear these words from his friend. Words he wished he'd heard the moment they met. "You sure?"

"Didn't you want to know...?" Arthur seemed distant. Quiet even. He spun around the wine in the space of the dim lit office, wondering if it would spill from the aggressive motion. His bright, green, emerald eyes followed the liquid as he rested his chin in his palm.

"Of course."

_

Flashback

"I don't like repeating myself, Artie. Where is the Amulet!" A man asked behind the bars which held the brit hostage. The chains weren't enough for the Spaniard, he needed to keep him in a cell as well. Technically, he could've just locked him up in the prison cell without the rusty handcuffs, but that was just for his own twisted amusement. He could barely contain himself, thinking he could torture a brit whenever he wanted without ever being interrupted.

"And so do I- Don't call me that!" He spat at the brunette. His exhausted, glassy eyes reflected the reaction of his enemy ; enraged, on the verge of homicide and overall impatient. He wiped the spit from his face before signalling his guard to open the cell.

"That's right… Come and get it-" Arthur let himself have at least a little bit of fun tormenting the man he hated most in the world. He was enjoying every hit because he knew… He knew that this meant he was winning. He knew that when Antonio started swinging at him, it was because he lost more than just his patience. He'd lost men, battles, ships, weapons or precious cargo. The pain was what Arthur worried about the most. Not death. Not losing.

Simply the pain.

"If you don't fucking tell me right now, puto, I'll slit your throat." A handful of strawberry-blond hair was the only thing keeping Arthur's head up. His face was bruised to hell and one of his ribs was probably fractured.

With a weak, broken laugh, followed by a heavy coughing fit and blood spitting, the Englishman answered him. "You need me." His breaths were short and his voice was low, gravely.

"I don't need you, cabrón. I can just find someone else who-"

"-Knows about the amulet? Heh! How do you say 'good luck' in spanish?" Arthur wasn't the type to act all high and mighty, but he was beyond fucked and couldn't care less if he died like this. "Or right, I don't give a fuck! You need me and everyone knows it. If you didn't, you would have killed me already!"

"Shut Ap!" Antonio gave Arthur one last kick, lifting the poor man a few inches too high in the air. He tried to bring his hands to his stomach with no gain. He, instead, curled in agony, coughing a mixture of fluids.

"C-coward."

"Como mierda. (Eat shit)" He crouched next to him, spitting on his red cheek.

--

As if the pain wasn't enough, the cold air made matters worse, he thought. The trembling made it really hard for his aching muscles to relax. He could never heal from these injuries. It wasn't just a thought, it was a promise. Though, the door of the prison cell opened with no apparent reason. It was an unusual hour, Arthur made sure to keep track of when he was being tortured- it was all he had. Keeping track of time kept him alive.

Antonio left behind the coat he usually wore ; brown, ripped and down to his knees. Instead, he wore his undergarments. The blouse, black boots and wine coloured red trousers. He was also unarmed, which alarmed the brit.

"Back for more?" He whispered with a whistling noise coming from soft, low breaths.

He was answered with nothing more than silence. Usually Antonio was yelling, slapping or insulting him, but this time it worried Arthur. The way he didn't respond or even looked at him sent bad signals to the Englishman. His expression was dark- not the usual 'dark' kind, it was simply impossible to tell what his true intentions were. Normally, Kirkland is able to read him like a book. His movements were almost in slow motion. Every step he took towards Arthur would make his heart beat faster. Every action his hands made seemed to send a shiver down Arthur's spine.

"W-What are you--" He was cut off by a throb in his lungs. "--doing, wanker!" His eagerness was stronger than his body as he wanted a reaction from the other. That's when he noticed it. Antonio was alone. No guards accompanied him. In a panic, Arthur did his best to crawl away from him, screaming for him to stop, asking for a reason.

"...Everyone leaves me. Everyone hates me." His hand reached Arthur's left cheek before it was shaken away aggressively. "I just want it all back. That… that amulet is all I have left-"

"I don't care!"

"I know you feel the same as me."

"You-"

All of a sudden, the throb was gone. His body went numb and he froze in place. His mouth stayed in the shape of an 'o', incapable of finishing his sentence. His back was stuck to the wooden wall behind him, keeping his legs as close as possible. His eyes widened when he finally saw the expression Antonio was wearing ; drunk and broken like him. He was a mess, bags of sleepless nights under his yellow-ish, green eyes, messy hair… The list of things that were wrong with this image was endless. But the thing that attracted Arthur's attention the most was the bandage around his left wrist.

"You're cold." He muttered. "But your skin is so soft. Did you ever notice how cute your freckles were across your face?"

What the fuck..? What the fuck? "What the.. Fuck?"

"Those eyes remind me of someone else's. She left me so long ago. It drove me to the edge. I told her I would swim across the ocean for her. I would do anything for her and even die for her." He hinted a faint smile just as it dissolved into sadness. "But it wasn't enough for her. She told me I was crazy, that she hated me. So I-" He took a deep breath, biting his bottom lip in the process. "I kept her, just like I did you."

Arthur did nothing, said nothing. His silence was enough to send him a clear message. 'You are a crazy piece of shite.'

"It killed her." He glared at Arthur. Antonio reached for one of the other's legs and yanked him closer.

"No- Leave me be!" He tried kicking him, but his body was too weak and the captain's hold was too strong.

"I miss her so much."

"Yeah, no shite, you killed her!"

This last statement earned him a sharp slap across the face.

"I didn't. She killed herself. She preferred being with death than with me." The Spaniard grasped at Arthur's jaw, making it impossible for him to speak any further. "You should show me some respect." He stared him down like a predator. "I'm taking you up to my private study to take better care of you."

That didn't seem to reassure the brit. If anything it terrified him.

"Lo siento, amor mío… Perdóname." He whispered into Arthur 's ear. The pure smell of rum was enough to make anyone as drunk as him. Although he did his best to fight him, Arthur was knocked unconscious.

_

"...So… What did he do to you exactly?" João had taken a moment during Arthur's story to sit closer to him. He was face to face with his friend, knees barely touching. He had put his glass of wine away to listen to him carefully. Of course his sensitivity was gone, asking such a thing was out of the question for anyone sober.

"A lot." The Englishman kept his gaze locked with the other for a moment, taking one last sip of his drink. "It went on for probably months. Or weeks… At that point, I started losing track of time." His eyes fell to the floor, almost in defeat- embarrassed that he had given up back then.

"I didn't care anymore."

João wanted to say something, but even though he could have, he felt out of place and let his crew member finish. He didn't do so without forwarding in his seat. Only a few inches away from each other, knees connecting and hands close.

"He took me and I gave in to his forceful ways." He closed his eyes as his mind was abused by the past. A shudder was noticed by the other. "The way he looked at me. The way he touched me. The way he spoke to me- whether it was in spanish or in english… I hated it. I still…" His mind drifted and, suddenly, he was lost. Green orbs looking for anything to distract his head.

A pair of warm, comforting hands carefully caressed his. He snapped out of it and a feeling of peace washed over him.

"Arthur." João was cautious, considering. "I have to say… That meant so much to me. What you told me and just sharing this with me. You're the bravest man I've ever met." His smile had never been this bright before, the brit thought. His hands were starting to squeeze him and he squeezed back.

"W-well, we didn't exactly… 'meet'. You saved my life, Lisboa." He looked away as the colour across his face became visible to the portuguese.

"...You have no idea how you saved me too, amor." He mumbled words he never meant to say out loud, squeezing the other's hands tighter.

"...Wait, What-"

"I'm in love with you, Arthur." João confessed. If not now, then when? "I'm sorry, but-" His voice cracked. "...I don't want you to go." He averted his gaze shamefully.

Arthur was speechless. His shoulders stiffened as he blankly gawked at his friend. "I-..." He felt like his mind was going 200 miles per hour and his heart doubled that speed. He wasn't sure how to handle his emotions, he didn't even know if it was a good thing.

"I think, I… I think that's what made me save your life then. You were so beautiful. Hurt and obviously messed up, but so goddamn gorgeous."

The blond seemed to be exploding on the inside- maybe a little dysfunctional- and, on the outside, breathing deeply to regain his composure. He truly hated himself. The words that the spanish asshole said resonated back from the depths of his heart.

"I know you feel the same as me."

He shut his eyes sternly, head pounding as horrible memories came crashing back.

"I know you feel the same as me."

"Screw you." Hands shook between João's, and then, so did one of his legs. "...I'm sorry." Was all he could muster to him as exhaustion and nausea hit him. He felt sick, though hopefully not from the alcohol.

The captain didn't know what to do. His hesitation, his lack of response and body language and his heart throbbing made him feel terrible. But not as horribly as the way his 'England' needed him.

"I shouldn't have said that, desculpa." The captain was ready to give up and leave Arthur alone, but he was stopped by the same pair of hands that were unable to move earlier. Separated by only a step since João barely made it up from his seat.

"Don't leave me." His stare was hollow. "I think… I need you." Just as Inglaterra said his words, he vomited in front of João.

"Shit! Seriously? You're absolutely a mess!" He wasn't really angry, but the moment was completely ruined and there was no way Arthur would remember any of that later. They only had half a day left until they reached Europe. There was no time for that kind of complication.

"Apologies… Please-" He hurled again before he could say 'forgive me'.

"Ah, dammit! Spit in the bucket, dumbass!"

João had to take care of Arthur all morning ; cleaning him up once he was done throwing up his insides, helping him get to bed, taking off his boots and getting him clean water. He couldn't afford to get sick as well. He didn't let his body win that battle.

"Eu cuido de você. Até nos separamos. (I'll take care of you. Until we part.)" He moved a few strands of hair from the blond's forehead, running the back of a finger over his hot cheek and chin. He stared him down through his eyelashes with an almost disapproving grin. His head felt better once he'd freed his medium long hair from its ribbon. He ran his other hand through his hair to get that feeling of laid-backness he so longed.

Then… he felt the waves against the ship, transporting him to his home country.

"Que paz... (How peaceful…)"

_

End chapter.