Arthur stood in a familiar line, waiting when he and his fellow countrymen were to walk out to represent their nation. Four years ago, he had waited with a tight stomach and jumped up and down in excitement at the start of the Rio Olympics. He'd trained for this to be his last Olympics, and his eyes were set forward for the gold more than ever. He'd been younger and wilder and weaker, but now he was older, wiser, and stronger.

Four years ago he'd been with Alfred during these games.

He looked to his feet as a wave of ice pierced down his spine. He tried to not think about the disappointment of the last Olympics. This year would be different, but all for the wrong reasons. His main competitor was out of the race.

He thought back to the headlines of the newspapers and magazines that loved to cover their relationship. They had decided to call them the "Special Relationship of London" and enjoyed comparing them to the countries they hailed from, as if they were literal personification of their homelands.

"They are the Special Relationship in ultimate form!"

"The Special Relationship of the Olympics has emerged!"

"The golden boys from America and England are an official item!"

"Alfred Jones was admitted to Albion Hospital in England for-"

Team Great Britain was announced and Arthur had to start walking. His mind was temporarily erased of all the dark and cold nights, that terrifying moment in the water, and the scars on Alfred's face that held him back from the one thing he loved to do. And it was all Arthur's fault.

Alfred cheered when he heard his nation called, but he screamed when he heard Great Britain announced. He waved both flags, having painted half of his face with the Stars and Stripes and the other side with the Union Flag. His parents jumped up and down beside him, but helped him to sit back down.

"Do you see Arthur?!" he yelled over the crowd.

"Yes, yes, I see him!" his mother shouted back. "I'm zooming in the camera."

"What's his outfit?!" Alfred asked.

"It's not white and gold trim, I can tell you that," Alfred's father laughed. "He looks good, son. He looks good."

Alfred smiled to himself, sitting back in the chair. His mother started to cheer. He jumped right back up. Arthur was waving at them, he knew it. He waved back and waved the flags and blew him kisses. He imagined Arthur doing the same with a flushed face and those green eyes.

"He's waving," his father said. "He can see you."

"I know."

It had been windy that day. Arthur had ignored the clouds in the distance as he took Alfred out sailing. He wanted to show him a part of his world and prove that he loved him in unspeakable ways. Alfred was laughing and enjoying himself. He dipped his hand in the water, curled his hand into the shape of a cup, and brought it up to splash Arthur.

Arthur laughed loudly. "Oh stop that, you idiot!"

"Haha, never! Not if I get to see that beautiful smile of yours!" Alfred splashed him some more when the wind began to pick up.

"Alfred, sit up. I need to steer the boat."

That was all it took. The wind blew at that precise moment, too hard for Arthur to keep hold of the handle to steer the rudder. His hand slipped and the boat turned sharply. The wind changed direction and the sail moved with it. The metal beam that held the sail swiped across the boat, smacking Alfred right in the face. He fell overboard, splashing into the River Thames, and didn't come back up.

"Alfred!" Arthur screeched. He wasted no time, forgetting his boat and diving in with Olympic precision.

The water was murky, and for a horrifying moment Arthur thought he might lose Alfred. But he peered through his half-way open eyelids and found his boyfriend flailing in the water. Red wisps of blood flowed with the river, coming right from Alfred's face. Arthur hooked an arm around Alfred's waist and pushed up, relying on all the strength he had.

When they broke the surface of the water, Alfred was howling in pain. Arthur pulled him onto the boat. He sailed them back to land quickly, largely in part due to the high wind speed. He couldn't look at Alfred, but he continued to talk to him in hopes of keeping him calm. It didn't work.

"Fuck, it hurts so God damn much. Oh God. Oh fucking hell! Arthur! Fuck! Where are you?! Babe?! I can't see!"

It was four hours later after Alfred had gone through emergency surgery that the doctors told Arthur that Alfred could never see again. His glasses had broken into his eyes, damaging them beyond repair. One even had to be removed by enucleation. The scars on his eyebrows and just below his eyes were the reminders of what had happened to him.

Arthur sat by Alfred's side and wept, even when the Olympian was awake. Alfred knew why and there were no words to comfort him. No kisses to heal the wounds, and no hugs to ease any of this. It had to stay. They had to accept that Alfred was blind.

At first, Alfred was okay with this fact. He remained positive for everyone and smiled when he heard a whimper from his mother. He held Arthur's hands and never brought up what happened, but Arthur did. Every time he saw Alfred he would begin to apologize profusely and blame himself. After a time, Alfred had had enough.

"Stop," he said sternly. "Stop it right now. I mean it. That's enough."

"But… it's my…"

"No!" Alfred yelled, startling the nurses that were unwrapping the gauze around his head. He reached for Arthur's hand, knowing it was never too far from his. "I mean it. Stop it! You didn't know! It was an accident! I don't blame you! No one does! No one in my family or on my team does, so stop it! Please!"

Alfred knew that he never did. He just never vocalized his guilt anymore. But there would be times his hands hesitated, or he'd take a deep breath when Alfred felt eyes on him. He didn't have to see Arthur's eyes to know it was still deeply imbedded in his mind.

That was what hurt the most. He didn't mind not seeing anything ever again, except for one thing. He would miss Arthur's face and his eyes. In time, his memory of Arthur's face would fade away like an old photograph. His eyes wouldn't be as vivid and green, his smile would lose its luster, and even his eyebrows would thin out in his mind.

So he focused. He kept his wits about him as he focused on keeping every single memory of Arthur in pristine condition. Holding Arthur's hand while he walked and listening to him speak helped because he imagined how he looked as he spoke, as he walked, as he glanced around at the scenery, and the subtle way he'd smile when Alfred said something funny.

He wanted to continue competing. His coach had been extremely hesitant to allow this. At first he protested it because of Alfred's missing eye, but it was fixed when he had an ocular prosthetic transplant. His team mates were good to him during this trying time. They never treated him different and helped his spirit remain up when Arthur was unable to.

Alfred could swim. He had special goggles that never leaked, just in case the chlorine irritated his implant and scars. It was easy to count how many strokes there were before he would reach the wall to turn in the water and push off. He wasn't up to his Olympic speed, not yet, but his coach was too worried to let it continue. Furious, he left his coach to look for a new one, but word had spread about his condition, and not one trainer would pick him up.

Alfred wasn't able to compete anymore.

Arthur's hands touched the wall first and the stadium erupted into applause. He pumped his fist into air as he screamed in elation. He'd waited four years for his redemption at gold. Now it was his. Looking to the stands, he blew kisses to where he saw his lover jumping up and down again with both flags waving. His mother leaned over to say something, and Alfred then blew kisses back in his general direction.

Two years ago, Arthur told Alfred he would go to Rio, and Alfred was there when he said so.

"I believe in you," he had said. "I know you'll win. You beat me in London, you'll blow everyone else away. I'll be there, watching you."

Arthur had smiled sadly, touching Alfred's face. "How can you say that so easily…? Not many people can when in this condition…"

Alfred had smiled, just as he always did. "Because I've got the memory of you swimming in my head. I know how your arms move. You control the water, babe. You'll be amazing."

When Arthur had finished his interview with BBC, he trotted over to the judges. Alfred's family watched curiously.

"I wonder what he's doing," his mother said. "Is he asking them about his time?"

"No, hon. He can see that on the board," his father replied.

"You only talk to the judges when there's a discrepancy," Alfred said. He tapped his fingers on his knees to keep himself entertained. They had to see the medal ceremony before they could leave to see Arthur. He hated waiting. "But, he won, right? So what's the problem?"

"I don't know," his mother said.

A few moments later, a volunteer for the venue came to Alfred's seat. "Sir, will you come with me?"

"But he can't see," Alfred's mother started.

"I will escort him," the volunteer said kindly. He offered Alfred his arm and helped him down the stairs. "Take your time, sir. I understand."

"I'm fine, really. Thank you. Um, but what's going on?"

"Just a little further."

"Ladies and gentleman, the nation anthem of the United Kingdom."

The aquatic center was filled with the music of God Save the Queen. He heard English citizens singing along. The ground under his feet felt different, and they suddenly stopped walking. He strained his ears to listen to the voices coming from around him. It wasn't the stands anymore. Was he on the floor?

"Are we here?" Alfred whispered.

"Just a moment, sir," the volunteer replied. He had a thick Brazilian accent, but his English was still well enough. He sounded like a young man, probably with a clean shave and deep eyes and a nice smile. Alfred liked him. "This way, please."

The cheers started up again as the last note of the anthem climaxed in the hall. He heard clapping near him. The pungent smell of chlorine was heavier here than up at his seats. He could hear the water still trying to settle just off to his left.

"Are we by the pool?" Alfred asked.

"Alfred." It was Arthur. He was right by his side. He pulled Alfred up onto a step. No, it was a podium. "I won this for you, my love."

A heavy medal, a gold medal, was placed around Alfred's neck. The center erupted into louder applause at the act. Arthur took Alfred's hand and raised it up in triumph. He couldn't imagine what it was like. He didn't remember the faces of people celebrating, of his family crying whenever he won, or of the press' cameras clicking away to capture every moment. He only remembered Arthur's face as he smiled and waved.

That was how it was now. He was smiling and waving and his bright eyes were brighter after the race. And that gold medal was his. All Alfred could do was smile and wave.

He was still an Olympian.

Hoshiko2's cents: The end. Thanks for reading everyone! I'm glad you liked this little story for the Olympic event. I got bronze and this is my torchbearer entry.

If you'd like to follow me on tumblr, my writing journal is 2kokoro. Thank you again!