AUTHOR: Aku-Chan-The-Devil-San
August 26th, 2014 - Simple
"I had grown up a Mississippi farm boy living in a small town, in a big house and an even bigger church. Life had been simple everyday nothing changed and no one wanted it to, I had taken care of the farm everyday and watched the stars each night. There was nothing complicated about my existence and I had thought I liked it that way.
Well that was before I met the love of my natural born life, a British man by the name of Arthur Kirkland. He said he had escaped to the town to complete his bestselling trilogy but found himself on my doorstep and had been there ever since..."
Alfred groaned and looked disdainfully at the man in the mirror the old thing was cracked and ugly matching how he looked perfectly, his eyes sunk into his skull darkening as the raging ocean. His skin was paled and dry looking tanned by the moon instead of the sun and his golden locks fell like dead grass.
Alfred gazed to his reflection the corners of his frown softening he ran his hands down the tight black suit he reached the knot of his tie and straighted it with a whimper"Alfred, you're twenty five years old you can tie your own bloody tie can't you?" No. Alfred still couldn't and the one person who had primly inspected his Sunday best the last six years...
Wasn't there anymore.
Alfred sunk to his knees his face breaking and tears falling making little stars on the impossibly black fabric, Arthur had hated black always had even as he withered away in the clean unearthly hospital he always demanded that they keep the lights on, one of the few things he remembered as his mind deteriorated.
And one of the many thing Alfred would remember as he carried on without him he stood and wiped the tears away from his face "Alfred, heroes don't cry" Arthur had told him after their dog Hope had passed even though he had cried more than Alfred.
He looked out the bedroom window to the sloppy gray sky hoping that he would be able to hold his tears at the memorial, He had written the eulogy himself but he had no way to describe the beauty of Arthur the way he got freckles in the sun, drank tea when he was stressed, talked to the garden plants and gave them names, and waking up to his beautiful face every morning.
Alfred felt his face pricked with warmth the tears cascaded he sobbed and he couldn't stop how was Alfred a hero anyway he let someone he loved die he could never be a hero if he couldn't be Arthurs.
He stared at the tear stained eulogy filled with word of love and hope and sighed.
When was life ever simple?
because death certainly wasn't