Other Side of Time [7/10]
anonymous
June 23 2009, 23:40:28 UTC
7.
Arthur walks around his house.
He enters each room. In the first one he pulls the covers, thinking about lying down, then he changes his mind and leaves the bed unmade. He enters the bathroom and opens the faucet to wash his face, then he leaves the water running. He closes it when he comes back, fifteen minutes later, or a week, or maybe two years, and wonders who left it open like that.
He does that again, and again, and again.
And he sees memories. Ghosts. In the bedroom he sees a dark skinned girl dark eyes dancing by herself, pink and orange cloth floating around her. In his library there’s a small blond boy with huge eyes and golden curls, holding a polar bear, speaking something that’s not quite English and not quite French, smiling up at him.
In his office there’s a boy with bright blue eyes running to his arms, and nothing in his eyes speaks of hate or disgust or bitterness, nothing says he’ll leave him, no warning, nothing that would allow some time to prepare for-
“This is the last time,” Alfred says “And then you can go to hell. You're jealous of me, that’s the truth, you’re jealous because I’m bigger and stronger. That’s why you’re pretending I don't exist, because you hate me and you can’t accept, after all these years, that I don’t need you anymore!”
He’s standing in front of the window, and the light turns his hair into a halo. His fists are closed and maybe he’s been there for hours, maybe he was by Arthur’s side walking around the house. Maybe he just materialized here right this very moment. Arthur stares at him.
“Go ahead, ignore me all you want, I don’t care. Do you hear me? I don’t care, I don’t give a fuck about this and about you, I don’t care about you at all and- Arthur?”
He crosses the room in two quick steps, and his face is a mask of anguish:
“I didn't mean it, Arthur, I was joking, I didn't- please don't cry, I didn't-”
Arthur walks around his house.
He enters each room. In the first one he pulls the covers, thinking about lying down, then he changes his mind and leaves the bed unmade. He enters the bathroom and opens the faucet to wash his face, then he leaves the water running. He closes it when he comes back, fifteen minutes later, or a week, or maybe two years, and wonders who left it open like that.
He does that again, and again, and again.
And he sees memories. Ghosts. In the bedroom he sees a dark skinned girl dark eyes dancing by herself, pink and orange cloth floating around her. In his library there’s a small blond boy with huge eyes and golden curls, holding a polar bear, speaking something that’s not quite English and not quite French, smiling up at him.
In his office there’s a boy with bright blue eyes running to his arms, and nothing in his eyes speaks of hate or disgust or bitterness, nothing says he’ll leave him, no warning, nothing that would allow some time to prepare for-
“This is the last time,” Alfred says “And then you can go to hell. You're jealous of me, that’s the truth, you’re jealous because I’m bigger and stronger. That’s why you’re pretending I don't exist, because you hate me and you can’t accept, after all these years, that I don’t need you anymore!”
He’s standing in front of the window, and the light turns his hair into a halo. His fists are closed and maybe he’s been there for hours, maybe he was by Arthur’s side walking around the house. Maybe he just materialized here right this very moment. Arthur stares at him.
“Go ahead, ignore me all you want, I don’t care. Do you hear me? I don’t care, I don’t give a fuck about this and about you, I don’t care about you at all and- Arthur?”
He crosses the room in two quick steps, and his face is a mask of anguish:
“I didn't mean it, Arthur, I was joking, I didn't- please don't cry, I didn't-”
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Didn't England just get Hong Kong back? Still got one on the leash so to speak? Though the party is still definitely over.
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This is just breaking my heart. Oh Arthur. Yes, you make it so difficult to love you at times. ♥
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