Re: I give you the sky [3/?]
anonymous
May 25 2009, 08:51:26 UTC
Since it is spring and the days are gorgeous they have a world picnic instead of a world meeting. Arthur grudgingly agrees only because his protests would be outnumbered anyway.
So here they are, sitting in the middle of a bright green field whose grass bends and waves like the tides of a rolling sea. Here they are, all gathered around, sharing food and talking about everything and anything other than politics.
The memory of his picnics with Alfred when he was young suddenly reels up and attacks him, making him feel dizzy. Even in the shade the sun burns his skin. Alfred sits right next to him, almost leaning against him since there is so little room on the blanket for all the nations, which does no wonders to his temperature. In order to hide his embarrassment, Arthur brings out cucumber sandwiches and everyone abruptly turns away.
Even when Alfred forces himself to eat the food Arthur makes, he knows that there is no special meaning behind it at all. He is just being a hero after all, saving everyone from assured food poisoning. Everyone looks relieved and Arthur tries not to look too upset.
France touches his shoulder, taunting him about his lack of culinary skills. For a moment, he is so caught up in the argument that he forgets about Alfred.
Yet the day waxes on and the nations starts to drift away. Some retire early while others spread themselves throughout the field in smaller groups. Arthur would like to stay lying against the chequered blanket with Kiku and discuss folklore but something is nagging the back of his mind.
After a while he gets up, grumbling under his breath that he should probably make sure that Alfred has not got lost or something. They all know what an idiot he is after all, and he excuses himself
Surprisingly, Arthur finds Alfred alone in a little clearing, his hand against his hip, the other shielding his eyes as he stares up at the bright sky.
Arthur does not announce his presence right away. He remains and stares at Alfred, at his enraptured face and thinks about how his eyes are like the sky to the power of two; the sky reflected in the sky, a double sky. He tries to look at the real sky as well but it is too bright for him. The sky is so big and blindingly bright that, for a moment, Arthur cannot see, he cannot breathe.
‘Do you like butter or don’t you?’
Alfred notices Arthur now and grins at him. ‘Come over here. I’ve found something awesome!’ and something in Arthur wells up and chokes him.
‘Do you like butter or don’t you?’
Don’t leave me, he wants to shout again but his words stop in his throat. It is too bright here. Alfred is too bright. He cannot keep up.
He cannot breathe. It hurts. He cannot breathe at all and white light consumes his vision.
So here they are, sitting in the middle of a bright green field whose grass bends and waves like the tides of a rolling sea. Here they are, all gathered around, sharing food and talking about everything and anything other than politics.
The memory of his picnics with Alfred when he was young suddenly reels up and attacks him, making him feel dizzy. Even in the shade the sun burns his skin. Alfred sits right next to him, almost leaning against him since there is so little room on the blanket for all the nations, which does no wonders to his temperature. In order to hide his embarrassment, Arthur brings out cucumber sandwiches and everyone abruptly turns away.
Even when Alfred forces himself to eat the food Arthur makes, he knows that there is no special meaning behind it at all. He is just being a hero after all, saving everyone from assured food poisoning. Everyone looks relieved and Arthur tries not to look too upset.
France touches his shoulder, taunting him about his lack of culinary skills. For a moment, he is so caught up in the argument that he forgets about Alfred.
Yet the day waxes on and the nations starts to drift away. Some retire early while others spread themselves throughout the field in smaller groups. Arthur would like to stay lying against the chequered blanket with Kiku and discuss folklore but something is nagging the back of his mind.
After a while he gets up, grumbling under his breath that he should probably make sure that Alfred has not got lost or something. They all know what an idiot he is after all, and he excuses himself
Surprisingly, Arthur finds Alfred alone in a little clearing, his hand against his hip, the other shielding his eyes as he stares up at the bright sky.
Arthur does not announce his presence right away. He remains and stares at Alfred, at his enraptured face and thinks about how his eyes are like the sky to the power of two; the sky reflected in the sky, a double sky. He tries to look at the real sky as well but it is too bright for him. The sky is so big and blindingly bright that, for a moment, Arthur cannot see, he cannot breathe.
‘Do you like butter or don’t you?’
Alfred notices Arthur now and grins at him. ‘Come over here. I’ve found something awesome!’ and something in Arthur wells up and chokes him.
‘Do you like butter or don’t you?’
Don’t leave me, he wants to shout again but his words stop in his throat. It is too bright here. Alfred is too bright. He cannot keep up.
He cannot breathe. It hurts. He cannot breathe at all and white light consumes his vision.
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