What are realistic endings!! That aside, I hope you enjoy ;w;
He felt cold.
After lingering another moment at the coat rack, he wrapped a snug red scarf around his neck, burying his chafed skin into the woolly warmth. Sticking his hands into his coat pockets, he began to step down the steps of the great hall. His breath came out as frozen puffs in the air, smoke that followed him to his car.
“Wait up, Arthur,” and his cheeks were suddenly a little warmer. He turned around slightly to see Alfred standing in front of him, face spotted rosy red, eyes bright.
“What do you want?” he asked, flushing slightly. “It’s not like I’m happy to see you here, or anything-“
“Wow, you’re so overdressed.” Alfred pulled playfully at the tip of his scarf, and Arthur felt another rush of heat shoot to his face. In defiance, he yanked back the scarf, and he didn’t dare admit that he was still shivering, even through the layers and layers.
“Shut up, prat. If you don’t have anything to say, then leave me be.” He turned around again, fumbling with his car keys, allowing a secret, green seedling of hope to grow inside him that maybe Alfred would call his name again.
“Come on, don’t be like that,” and the hope blossomed in full to the redness of his cheeks and a slight trembling of fingers through the hefty mittens.
“If you insist,” he said. Look at him, like a schoolgirl in love, shyly turning around and giving him looks out of the corner of his eyes. He couldn’t even look at Alfred directly because his heart would suddenly give a start, and the familiar warmth rushed through him.
“Listen, I was wondering if-“ Alfred leaned forward, breath tickling against his cheek and Arthur felt his face grow warmer still, and then, “Oh, Kiku.”
That was an unexpected end to the sentence.
As he raised his head, he could see the familiar, polite shape of the country walking by, his little dog with bright red booties stomping through the thick snow. When he looked back at Alfred again, the younger man seemed fascinated with the dog and the booties. Arthur bit back a surge of disappointment, and he mock-rolled his eyes in exaggeration before he began to fumble his car keys again, jingling them too loudly to be natural.
“Oh, sorry,” Alfred said, turning his attention back to him, hand still outstretched in a wave to Kiku.
“Pay attention, won’t you?” Arthur said with more irritability than usual. “I don’t really have the time to dilly-dally like this.”
“Yeah, sure.” Alfred huffed into his bare hands, and Arthur didn’t look at him in the eye. “I guess it wasn’t that important.”
The surge of disappointment made him feel as if his heart had been slowly drained of air, collapsing under the immense pressure of hope. But outwardly, he merely shrugged and made some flippant remark about Alfred being stupid, like always, and he was slightly angry, but he merely shook his head and said his farewell to him as he climbed into his car and drove off through the snow, steady on the sanded ice.
He parked a few blocks away to put his head on the steering wheel. He had done it wrong, again, that day! It wasn’t like he liked that stupid prat or anything, it was just that his heart began to beat a little faster and his smile made him feel a little happier and he wanted to be with him all the time and he pounded his head against the steering wheel until a noisy whiteness entered his head.
And a thought struck him, like so many times before, and it entered his head with such a familiarity that it almost hurt as it seeped through his logic and his arguments, settling in like his mind was a couch and it had a good time watching his telly. He pressed his lips against his mittened hands as he stared into the snow that had begun to pile up again on his warm car.
He felt cold.
After lingering another moment at the coat rack, he wrapped a snug red scarf around his neck, burying his chafed skin into the woolly warmth. Sticking his hands into his coat pockets, he began to step down the steps of the great hall. His breath came out as frozen puffs in the air, smoke that followed him to his car.
“Wait up, Arthur,” and his cheeks were suddenly a little warmer. He turned around slightly to see Alfred standing in front of him, face spotted rosy red, eyes bright.
“What do you want?” he asked, flushing slightly. “It’s not like I’m happy to see you here, or anything-“
“Wow, you’re so overdressed.” Alfred pulled playfully at the tip of his scarf, and Arthur felt another rush of heat shoot to his face. In defiance, he yanked back the scarf, and he didn’t dare admit that he was still shivering, even through the layers and layers.
“Shut up, prat. If you don’t have anything to say, then leave me be.” He turned around again, fumbling with his car keys, allowing a secret, green seedling of hope to grow inside him that maybe Alfred would call his name again.
“Come on, don’t be like that,” and the hope blossomed in full to the redness of his cheeks and a slight trembling of fingers through the hefty mittens.
“If you insist,” he said. Look at him, like a schoolgirl in love, shyly turning around and giving him looks out of the corner of his eyes. He couldn’t even look at Alfred directly because his heart would suddenly give a start, and the familiar warmth rushed through him.
“Listen, I was wondering if-“ Alfred leaned forward, breath tickling against his cheek and Arthur felt his face grow warmer still, and then, “Oh, Kiku.”
That was an unexpected end to the sentence.
As he raised his head, he could see the familiar, polite shape of the country walking by, his little dog with bright red booties stomping through the thick snow. When he looked back at Alfred again, the younger man seemed fascinated with the dog and the booties. Arthur bit back a surge of disappointment, and he mock-rolled his eyes in exaggeration before he began to fumble his car keys again, jingling them too loudly to be natural.
“Oh, sorry,” Alfred said, turning his attention back to him, hand still outstretched in a wave to Kiku.
“Pay attention, won’t you?” Arthur said with more irritability than usual. “I don’t really have the time to dilly-dally like this.”
“Yeah, sure.” Alfred huffed into his bare hands, and Arthur didn’t look at him in the eye. “I guess it wasn’t that important.”
The surge of disappointment made him feel as if his heart had been slowly drained of air, collapsing under the immense pressure of hope. But outwardly, he merely shrugged and made some flippant remark about Alfred being stupid, like always, and he was slightly angry, but he merely shook his head and said his farewell to him as he climbed into his car and drove off through the snow, steady on the sanded ice.
He parked a few blocks away to put his head on the steering wheel. He had done it wrong, again, that day! It wasn’t like he liked that stupid prat or anything, it was just that his heart began to beat a little faster and his smile made him feel a little happier and he wanted to be with him all the time and he pounded his head against the steering wheel until a noisy whiteness entered his head.
And a thought struck him, like so many times before, and it entered his head with such a familiarity that it almost hurt as it seeped through his logic and his arguments, settling in like his mind was a couch and it had a good time watching his telly. He pressed his lips against his mittened hands as he stared into the snow that had begun to pile up again on his warm car.
He needed to be thinner.
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