Arthur knew he wasn’t being properly responsive that night, but he couldn’t do it. For one, he felt horribly guilty for even suspecting his boyfriend when there was no way that Alfred – brilliant, sweet, protective Alfred would ever hurt him. But he also couldn’t help thinking that Alfred fit the profile Ludwig had given Arthur. Of course plenty of people probably fit that description and had blue eyes in the UK – loads, Arthur was sure. Hell, Arthur himself fit the profile except that his eyes were green and not blue. But there was just the unsettling feeling and the little bit of doubt there that kept worrying at Arthur.
Alfred seemed to be oblivious though, chattering away as he roasted the steak he’d bought for them. “Aryan – can you believe that guy? He says America isn’t about freedom anymore— of course America is the land of the free! Anyone who goes there has an opportunity to do what he wants unlike your royalty here,” he said. “A ton of the land in England still belongs to your royalty who just makes money because people have to rent the land from them, right?” he said.
England hummed, not paying much attention.
“And he was super stubborn about it even though I’m obviously right,” Alfred continued. “Oh hey, I got a red wine since Feliciano told me it’s what you’re supposed to have with steak. Don’t know if it’s any good though,” he said.
“Yeah…” Arthur said, unpacking the wine and turning it over in his hand. It was some Italian brand that he didn’t recognize, but he doubted he’d even taste it right now.
“It’ll be done in a moment. Can you help get the forks and knives?” Alfred asked.
Arthur set the wine on the dining table and went to the kitchen to get the utensils.
Dinner was quiet although Alfred spoke and laughed as usual, digging into his steak. Arthur picked at his and couldn’t even pay proper attention to what Alfred was saying he’d studied that day – something about how humans couldn’t stay up in space for too long before their bodies started falling apart or something.
“Any smaller and that’s going to be ground meat,” Alfred said.
Arthur stopped and looked down at where he’d been cutting his steak into smaller and smaller pieces. “Oh…” he said and stabbed a piece with his fork.
Alfred put a hand over his, stopping Arthur from eating. “What’s wrong?” he asked. His blue eyes were so sincere and beautiful like the clear sky. It couldn’t have been Alfred who had assaulted him. Alfred loved him.
Arthur smiled and shook his head. “It’s nothing. I’m just tired,” he said. “It’s been a long day.”
“Did the police say something?” Alfred asked, frowning.
“No, really, I’m just tired,” Arthur said. “I think I’ll just shower and go to sleep.”
“Want me to join you?” Alfred asked, smiling, and normally Arthur would have jumped at the invitation, but not today.
Arthur put down his fork. “Not tonight, I’m just… not in the mood,” he said as he got up.
He locked the bathroom door behind him when he went in and took a long bath, playing that memory over and over again in his head. Light hair that might really be a blond like Gilbert had said, blue eyes, knew his name…
“Hello, Arthur Kirkland.” He had heard the voice of the killer, but it just sounded like any other generic male voice in a room that was high ceilinged and echoed. Any man could sound like that. The Bristol Coach Station was a popular one. People stopped there from all around the UK – it could have been anyone. Anyone but Alfred.
When he got out of the bath, his fingers had gone pruney and wrinkled and even though his body felt clean and relaxed, his mind didn’t.
Alfred looked up from the living room where he was perched on the futon, playing a video game, and smiled at Arthur. His eyes were questioning though and Arthur knew he was waiting for Arthur to explain his bizarre behaviour.
Arthur came and curled up next to Alfred without saying a word. Alfred felt solid and warm next to him. He was just an ordinary boy – not even twenty years old yet – he didn’t fit the profile, Arthur told himself. He felt Alfred turn and press a kiss to his hair.
Forever Mine 6a/?
Alfred seemed to be oblivious though, chattering away as he roasted the steak he’d bought for them. “Aryan – can you believe that guy? He says America isn’t about freedom anymore— of course America is the land of the free! Anyone who goes there has an opportunity to do what he wants unlike your royalty here,” he said. “A ton of the land in England still belongs to your royalty who just makes money because people have to rent the land from them, right?” he said.
England hummed, not paying much attention.
“And he was super stubborn about it even though I’m obviously right,” Alfred continued. “Oh hey, I got a red wine since Feliciano told me it’s what you’re supposed to have with steak. Don’t know if it’s any good though,” he said.
“Yeah…” Arthur said, unpacking the wine and turning it over in his hand. It was some Italian brand that he didn’t recognize, but he doubted he’d even taste it right now.
“It’ll be done in a moment. Can you help get the forks and knives?” Alfred asked.
Arthur set the wine on the dining table and went to the kitchen to get the utensils.
Dinner was quiet although Alfred spoke and laughed as usual, digging into his steak. Arthur picked at his and couldn’t even pay proper attention to what Alfred was saying he’d studied that day – something about how humans couldn’t stay up in space for too long before their bodies started falling apart or something.
“Any smaller and that’s going to be ground meat,” Alfred said.
Arthur stopped and looked down at where he’d been cutting his steak into smaller and smaller pieces. “Oh…” he said and stabbed a piece with his fork.
Alfred put a hand over his, stopping Arthur from eating. “What’s wrong?” he asked. His blue eyes were so sincere and beautiful like the clear sky. It couldn’t have been Alfred who had assaulted him. Alfred loved him.
Arthur smiled and shook his head. “It’s nothing. I’m just tired,” he said. “It’s been a long day.”
“Did the police say something?” Alfred asked, frowning.
“No, really, I’m just tired,” Arthur said. “I think I’ll just shower and go to sleep.”
“Want me to join you?” Alfred asked, smiling, and normally Arthur would have jumped at the invitation, but not today.
Arthur put down his fork. “Not tonight, I’m just… not in the mood,” he said as he got up.
He locked the bathroom door behind him when he went in and took a long bath, playing that memory over and over again in his head. Light hair that might really be a blond like Gilbert had said, blue eyes, knew his name…
“Hello, Arthur Kirkland.” He had heard the voice of the killer, but it just sounded like any other generic male voice in a room that was high ceilinged and echoed. Any man could sound like that. The Bristol Coach Station was a popular one. People stopped there from all around the UK – it could have been anyone. Anyone but Alfred.
When he got out of the bath, his fingers had gone pruney and wrinkled and even though his body felt clean and relaxed, his mind didn’t.
Alfred looked up from the living room where he was perched on the futon, playing a video game, and smiled at Arthur. His eyes were questioning though and Arthur knew he was waiting for Arthur to explain his bizarre behaviour.
Arthur came and curled up next to Alfred without saying a word. Alfred felt solid and warm next to him. He was just an ordinary boy – not even twenty years old yet – he didn’t fit the profile, Arthur told himself. He felt Alfred turn and press a kiss to his hair.
“I love you,” Alfred said.