Punishment [17b/18]
anonymous
October 6 2011, 03:49:07 UTC
Alfred reached forward again and took Arthur's hand, more gentle than before. “I didn't mean it.”
Arthur brought his other hand around so that he could hold Alfred's with both of his. Alfred tried not to look at him, and made a point of staring at the ceiling or the wall. “I know,” Arthur told him.
Alfred looked at Arthur, and he looked almost like he was going to cry.
Arthur shushed him softly.
“I know,” Arthur repeated. He took a breath and reached to pat Alfred's head. “Don't worry. Just get better.”
“You, too,” Alfred said. He shook his hand from Arthur's grip and reached for his wing. “You have to get better, too.”
“I'll be fine.” Arthur used his hand to stretch his wing out to Alfred, trying to avoid the stabs of pain from when he used the muscles in his back. “I'm already getting better.”
Alfred brushed his fingers along Arthur's feathers. “I'm sorry.”
“There's no need for that.” Arthur stretched out on the cot and his wing left Alfred's reach. “It wasn't your fault.”
“I could've fought harder.” Alfred pulled his hand away and didn't touch Arthur again. “I could've stopped them.”
“No, you couldn't.”
Alfred turned his head so that he wasn't looking at Arthur.
Arthur frowned and tried to take Alfred's arm, but Alfred wiggled so that he was out of reach. “This wasn't your fault, Alfred.”
“They were after me-”
“They were after anyone they could get their claws on.” Arthur coughed and stopped talking while his body shook. The door to the other room opened almost immediately and Berwald appeared with a pile of blankets and a large shirt.
“Should change,” Berwald said simply and Arthur sat up. Berwald carefully helped him undress, trading his soaked toga for a shirt with holes torn in the back and a pair of shorts. Berwald was careful with Arthur's wing when he slipped it through the holes in the shirt, and then he unfolded the blankets and tucked them around him. “Tino's making soup. For both of you.” Berwald had Arthur lie back down on the cot and then looked at Alfred. When Alfred just stared back at him, he shrugged and helped Arthur shift to avoid putting pressure on his wing. Berwald mumbled something about helping Tino and left again.
The moment and the conversation that had started between Alfred and Arthur had died when Berwald intruded. Neither knew what to say or do, but when Alfred turned away from Arthur, the angel knew he had to speak.
“They got in because I wasn’t paying attention.” Arthur sighed. “The garden was dying, but the barrier sustains life even in plants that have lived for centuries. The plants were dying and I didn’t notice. If I had remembered, I could’ve strengthened the barrier and we would have been safe.”
Alfred didn’t look back at him. “If I hadn’t hurt you, you would’ve stayed.”
“You couldn’t control yourself. You were still a child.”
“I should’ve known better.” Alfred hugged himself. “I shouldn’t have listened.”
“Listened?” Arthur frowned. “Listened to what?”
“The voices.” Alfred’s arms tightened around himself. “They told me that if I ate you, you’d be with me forever. I shouldn’t’ve believed them.”
Arthur held his breath. He didn’t want to acknowledge that he had even heard Alfred. He didn’t know how he was supposed to respond to what he had said.
“I stopped,” Alfred mumbled. He used one hand to pull a blanket up so that he could press it against his face and muffle his words. “I stopped.”
Arthur brought his other hand around so that he could hold Alfred's with both of his. Alfred tried not to look at him, and made a point of staring at the ceiling or the wall. “I know,” Arthur told him.
Alfred looked at Arthur, and he looked almost like he was going to cry.
Arthur shushed him softly.
“I know,” Arthur repeated. He took a breath and reached to pat Alfred's head. “Don't worry. Just get better.”
“You, too,” Alfred said. He shook his hand from Arthur's grip and reached for his wing. “You have to get better, too.”
“I'll be fine.” Arthur used his hand to stretch his wing out to Alfred, trying to avoid the stabs of pain from when he used the muscles in his back. “I'm already getting better.”
Alfred brushed his fingers along Arthur's feathers. “I'm sorry.”
“There's no need for that.” Arthur stretched out on the cot and his wing left Alfred's reach. “It wasn't your fault.”
“I could've fought harder.” Alfred pulled his hand away and didn't touch Arthur again. “I could've stopped them.”
“No, you couldn't.”
Alfred turned his head so that he wasn't looking at Arthur.
Arthur frowned and tried to take Alfred's arm, but Alfred wiggled so that he was out of reach. “This wasn't your fault, Alfred.”
“They were after me-”
“They were after anyone they could get their claws on.” Arthur coughed and stopped talking while his body shook. The door to the other room opened almost immediately and Berwald appeared with a pile of blankets and a large shirt.
“Should change,” Berwald said simply and Arthur sat up. Berwald carefully helped him undress, trading his soaked toga for a shirt with holes torn in the back and a pair of shorts. Berwald was careful with Arthur's wing when he slipped it through the holes in the shirt, and then he unfolded the blankets and tucked them around him. “Tino's making soup. For both of you.” Berwald had Arthur lie back down on the cot and then looked at Alfred. When Alfred just stared back at him, he shrugged and helped Arthur shift to avoid putting pressure on his wing. Berwald mumbled something about helping Tino and left again.
The moment and the conversation that had started between Alfred and Arthur had died when Berwald intruded. Neither knew what to say or do, but when Alfred turned away from Arthur, the angel knew he had to speak.
“They got in because I wasn’t paying attention.” Arthur sighed. “The garden was dying, but the barrier sustains life even in plants that have lived for centuries. The plants were dying and I didn’t notice. If I had remembered, I could’ve strengthened the barrier and we would have been safe.”
Alfred didn’t look back at him. “If I hadn’t hurt you, you would’ve stayed.”
“You couldn’t control yourself. You were still a child.”
“I should’ve known better.” Alfred hugged himself. “I shouldn’t have listened.”
“Listened?” Arthur frowned. “Listened to what?”
“The voices.” Alfred’s arms tightened around himself. “They told me that if I ate you, you’d be with me forever. I shouldn’t’ve believed them.”
Arthur held his breath. He didn’t want to acknowledge that he had even heard Alfred. He didn’t know how he was supposed to respond to what he had said.
“I stopped,” Alfred mumbled. He used one hand to pull a blanket up so that he could press it against his face and muffle his words. “I stopped.”
Reply
Leave a comment