-- He never saw him show any kind of deep or meaningful emotions. He was just...well...Alfred. Always smiling, always teasing and always always eating.
Never saw him cry, except when he was a child long ago but those tears had been replaced with an odd crooked sort of frown that made Alfred look more puzzled then hurt. As if he didn't fully understand the feeling and wished to be rid of it as soon as possible.
Arthur might have called his actions borderline sociopathic. Especially by the way even when his enemies lay bleeding and defeated before him and the buildings around him lay in heaps Alfred would turn and smile brightly,
"I won."
He would smile over the maimed corpses of the innocent.
But this is who he is.
And Arthur knows he loves him no matter what he does.
It is like a stake in his heart though as he feels the words daring to slip at the tip of his tongue every time Alfred pats his head teasingly and tells him he loves him.
"No you don't."
The words have become to slick, they burn like heated oil on his tongue, to keep in him anymore.
Alfred's mouth twitches into an odd crooked frown.
"You are incapable of love." Arthur spits out the words bitterly his heart aching, aching for him to deny him. To get angry. To proof him wrong even if it means making him hate him.
Please...love me. Hate me. Something strong, something deeper then this...then this polite indifference.
Alfred finally grins,
"I'm sorry you feel that way."
He shrugs and begins to walk away and Arthur yells after him. To proof himself wrong.
"I love you."
Believe me.
"I love you!"
I wish I didn't.
Alfred stares at him with only a vague curiosity and returns slowly patting his head with a light hearted laugh, he smiles that familiar broad, handsome, nostalgic, fake, empty smile.
"Or course you do Iggy. I know that."
"...does it make your heart ache?" Arthur finally asks his eyes glazing over.
"Hmm? Why would it do that?"
So naive, so childish, so cruel.
Arthur laughs,
"You wouldn't know."