Dearly Beloved

The water rushed over his body, a cool sensation that wrapped its way around his entirety. As far as he could see the ocean was a deep blue hue, with spots of sunlight mixing itself inside. He felt himself sinking farther and farther, unable to swim back up for some reason, as if he were bound to the sandy floor. Where was he falling, why was he falling, what had happened? Why was this happening to him? Those were all questions he had not the ability to answer. All he knew was that the sensation was now over, the salt water stinging his eyes. This feeling felt familiar to him, and he didn't know why. His lungs suddenly began to scream for air, yet he could not push himself back to the surface.

He didn't want to go, no, he wasn't ready yet. He reached out his hand, trying somehow to grasp the top of the water before he fell into his watery grave. Please, he thought. I don't want to go away yet.

But he only sunk further and further, the light fading and the darkness swallowing him whole…

"Arthur!"

~~~

Emerald eyes shot open, heart pounding wildly in his chest. The alarm buzzed irritably in his ears, pestering him persistently until he sat up and turned it off. He let a sigh escape his lips as he ran one of his pale hands through his already messy, tangled, blond hair.

He clenched onto the covers tight, licking his lips as he did. That was the ninth time in counting he'd had such a dream, a dream of drowning, and sinking, unable to swim back to the surface. But this was the first time his name had been called in those nine times. Was this dream finally leading somewhere? He didn't know.

He pulled back his blankets and stretched a bit, getting out of bed and immediately went over to the window. He opened the curtains, and looked out. There was no sun, there was no blue sky, only grey. There were only grey clouds, and the drizzles of rain reflecting his image on the window.

It was days like these Arthur Kirkland remembered living in London, England, nine years ago.

Nine years ago, Arthur Kirkland had been living in London as a regular, average, schoolboy. He was a proper child, who took pride in his grades and his country. He was always well behaved and rarely spoke out of line. He was the second to youngest child, having one younger sibling and four older siblings.

His father received a job opportunity over in the states, and with utter excitement, he accepted it hastily, practically forcing the family out of England and off to the United States.

The adjustment was long, and painful. Arthur had become dreadfully alone at this new school, as no one wished to speak with the odd British boy who had a funny accent. His school life was basically silent. He barely spoke, but he maintained his grades properly, and that was good enough for him.

But there came a time when he was forced to interact with the school population. There was a partner assignment that had to take place during any event in history, and a skit about that subject had to be performed. Arthur himself didn't think anyone would choose to be his partner, so he merely waited for the soul who was unlucky enough to have to resort to him, when someone had asked.

That person had been the one and only Alfred F. Jones.

Alfred Jones was the class geek, the dorky smart one everyone seemed to admire. He was more of a science nerd than anything, and always vouched about his dreams to be a hero and an archeologist. He had a tall, well-put together figure, and a strikingly attractive face.

"Want to be my partner?" Alfred had said to him. Arthur remembered the words clearly because he remembered how shocked he was. The amazing Alfred Jones wanted to work with him of all people? It was almost too good to be true.

There had been an array of stares, full of disbelief and confusion. Arthur had merely stared for a moment before pointing at himself. "M-me?" he'd said.

"Uh, yeah dude," a grin had worked its way onto his lips. "You're the only one I could be talking to."

Naturally, Arthur had accepted the offer with the utmost gratitude, just thrilled that someone had spoken directly to him, and kindly for that matter, as well as wanted to be his partner. His! It had made him feel incredibly happy.

The presentation had gone wonderfully, mind you, and luckily, the talking hadn't stopped there. No, they continued on. That project was just one step in their beautiful friendship, Arthur realized early on.

Alfred and Arthur had soon become the best of friends. There was never an Alfred without his Arthur, or an Arthur without his Alfred. Whatever one did, the other would either support him, or be right there in the heat next to him. It was always Alfred and Arthur: Arthur, and Alfred.

The memory of their time together was sweet, and despite the sad memories of leaving London, his home, they allowed Arthur to smile, as he got ready for school. Knowing he would see his best friend made everything seem a lot easier, these days.

The Brit brushed his teeth and hair, doing the best he could with the latter, before putting on his school uniform. He grabbed his umbrella due to the rain, and opened it as he rushed out the door.

Most students walked to school, because most students lived rather close, but some took the bus, which Arthur absolutely hated. Alfred used to take the bus, but he'd stopped to find and walk with Arthur. Though, the English boy assumed that he would be taking the bus today due to the downpour, which was also fine by him.

He'd been correct for the most part. The American boy was not at their waiting spot, which hadn't surprised him in the slightest. Alfred hated the rain, and did all he could to avoid it.

When Arthur arrived at the school, the students seemed to be just as dreary as the outside. They all seemed almost dead to the world, and the morning itself to be half awake. He quickly sought out Alfred.

"Alfred!" Arthur called out the minute he saw the familiar cowlick strand of hair in the masses of students. "Alfred, wait!"

The American stopped and turned to him, but a smile didn't cross his lips when he saw him Instead, he merely nodded. "Hey, Arthur."

The two words startled Arthur for a number of reasons. The first one was that Alfred never addressed him by Arthur, and it was usually some obscene nickname such as 'Artie' or 'Iggy'. The second thing was that he never really started out this quietly. His voice was usually full of life and loud, as if it didn't have a volume control. Thirdly, he never really started with 'Hey', so plainly, it was usually slurred somehow with his name all thrown into one big mix.

"Something…the matter?" Arthur inquired, frowning.

Alfred shook his head quickly. "No, not at all."

The sheer silence of his voice scared the Brit alone. Why were his responses so quick and short? Why were they not long drawn and happy? Was he tired? No, he didn't look it at all. The American always showed some sign of tiredness; even a small yawn or two would do, but still nothing.

Instead of drawing him out on it, Arthur followed him down the hall in the exact same silence.

~~~

Alfred was acting miraculously different. He was so distant, so quiet, as if he was deep in thought and was unable to release himself. He spared light, momentary glances at him, but never anything dreadfully long. His responses were always short and simple, never any elaboration.

What was happening to him?

He'd been fine over the weekend, and it was Tuesday morning, since they'd had the Monday off for a holiday. Arthur continued to run through all the things that could've been possibly wrong with his dear best friend, but could pinpoint nothing all the same.

"Alfred," he stopped him on the way to lunch. "Alfred, please, is there something up with you today? You're not acting like yourself."

The American, of course, denied this. "What? I'm acting fine, Arthur. Seriously, chill."

Yet, he was still frowning slightly. The Brit crossed his arms irritably. "No, you're not all right. I know you better than this, Alfred Jones. First things first, if you want to say you're fine, at least act it. You're frowning. Alfred Jones never frowns unless something is bothering him. Second of all, you called me Arthur. You never call me Arthur."

"That's what you told me to call you."

"Yes, but you never listen."

Discomfort quickly spread across his face, and if he was trying to hide something, he was doing a terrible job. "Alfred-"

"Just leave me alone, okay Arthur?"

The words seemed like a cold slap in the face as he sped down the hallway, and out of sight.

~~~

The sun had come out and was now setting as Arthur walked down the silent corridor. It was after school, and he'd just packed up for the end of the day after helping out his teacher with a few things. He was tired, and confused, unsure of what to do.

His footsteps were the only ones he could hear at first, bouncing around before hitting his ears again. It was almost rhythmic, soothing, until he heard another set echo back that wasn't his own.

Of course someone was following him.

Arthur used to be constantly picked on if he stayed after, because someone would wait for him and then they would decide it was a funny idea to beat him up. But when Alfred started waiting for him, it had stopped.

But since Alfred wasn't here today, it was back to the old days.

Arthur continued to walk, though a bit unnerved, figured that if he just got far enough they wouldn't try anything. He swallowed heavily as he continued to walk out of the school. He made it to the entrance gate.

'There's more than one…' the Englishman thought bitterly, hearing the multiple sets of steps pursing him.

Would running be smart idea? He was fast, but he had no idea who these people were, nor how fast they could catch him. So instead he kept moving and didn't dare to look back.

A quick movement signaled that Arthur had to move fast. He broke into a run, trying to keep his cool. He was trying to count how many there might have been. One grabbed hold of the back of his collar, hurtling him backwards as he cried out. He hit the ground with a thud, and he immediately braced himself for the pain that he knew would come.

There was haughty laughter as pain shot through him. Arthur almost couldn't breathe as the multiple kicks to all parts of his body prevented him from doing so. His eyes stung from the kicked up dirt, as well as the excruciating agony. He cried out, but it only made the bullies laugh harder.

'Alfred…' he kept thinking over and over. 'Alfred…!'

There was a sudden halt, and Arthur suddenly feared for the worst. He took a chance and opened his eyes, gazing up a bit to see a familiar face. He felt his breath hitch in his throat.

"What're you doing here Jones?" one of the boys spat at the American.

For a long moment Alfred said nothing, only exchanged glances between each of the bullies, and finally Arthur. Their eyes met, emerald clashing against cerulean. Arthur's eyes were basically screaming at him, and he knew he could see. Be the hero you wanted to be. Help me.

"Nothing."

He said the words so simply, so quickly, and the Brit almost couldn't believe his ears. "A-Al?"

His voice cracked as Alfred walked around them, not sparing another glance down at him. The group of boys seemed to disregard it, as one picked Arthur up by the collar and slugged him hard against the face before shoving him backwards.

"You should go back to where you came from, you damn Limey."

'If only I could…' he replied in his head as it began to spin. 'God let it just end…'

After another few kicks and punches, he couldn't see straight anymore, and eventually everything began to stop hurting. It was like numbness had taken over the spots hit an unearthly amount of time, which was most of his body.

Eventually he just began to focus on how much time had passed, trying to calculate how much time before sundown so he could make it home before his parents began to worry. He wasn't even really listening to their conversation until the one said, "Let's take him down to the pier. He's from an island nation, he's sure to be able to swim."

Arthur didn't even get a chance to protest as a rough shot to the head made him spiral into darkness.

~~~

The Brit awoke to a swift breeze rushing into his face.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the surroundings of the ocean. He saw the sand and the smell of the salt water seemed familiar to him. But he did not feel safe. He felt anything but, to be precise.

"Hey, hey he's awake! Let's throw him in!"

Fear suddenly gripped hold of him as two people grabbed hold of him at either end. He struggled, trying to ground himself, but to no avail. Arthur's heart was pounding wildly. No…no!

Before he knew it, he hit the water, and slowly he began to sink, the sounds of the malicious laughter fading into the sounds of the swirling water.

The water rushed over his body, a cool sensation that wrapped its way around his entirety. As far as he could see the ocean was a deep blue hue, with spots of sunlight mixing itself inside. He felt himself sinking farther and farther, unable to swim back up for some reason, as if he were bound to the sandy floor. Where was he falling, why was he falling, what had happened? Why was this happening to him? Those were all questions he had not the ability to answer. All he knew was that the sensation was now over, the salt water stinging his eyes. This feeling felt familiar to him, and he didn't know why. His lungs suddenly began to scream for air, yet he could not push himself back to the surface.

He didn't want to go, no, he wasn't ready yet. He reached out his hand, trying somehow to grasp the top of the water before he fell into his watery grave. Please, he thought. I don't want to go away yet.

But he only sunk further and further, the light fading and the darkness swallowing him whole.

He kept thinking over and over again, 'This is like my dream…only this isn't a dream…this all real, bloody real!' he didn't know what to do.

"Arthur!"

Something grabbed hold of his extended hand, something strong and slightly warm, something reassuring and sweet. Arthur felt himself being tugged back to the surface, yet he wasn't paying any mind to that as he tried to focus on the thing that had grabbed him. Blond hair…

Before long they broke surface, and the minute he was over the water's edge he gasped for air, squinting from the dim sunlight reflecting on the water as he was toed back to the shoreline.

The sand was sticky and wet, but solid all the same. The Brit was dripping, yet he still did not look to his savior right yet. He stared at the darkened sand, pressing his hand to it as he let the chill crystals envelop his hand.

"A-are you okay?" the voice broke his trance.

Arthur looked over and saw the worried face of Alfred.

His heart was sopping wet, like his, and his clothes were soaked as well. It looked as if he'd just jumped right on in without a second thought, and his glasses were gone. His cerulean eyes seemed to be shimmering with some emotion that he hadn't seen in his eyes before, and it made him frown.

"I-I…I am now…" he muttered, unsure of what else to say. "T-thanks to you…"

Alfred shook his head, his eyes getting wet. "No, no it's not thanks to me…"

It was then that Alfred did something very strange. Alfred reached out, and wrapped his arms around him, the cold shooting through both of them. He held him tight, stroking his hair softly, as he did. Arthur was surprised by the sudden display of affection, as all of the other hugs he'd ever given him were never this tender and loving.

"It's all my fault…you could've drowned…and all I did was stare…even when you were getting beaten up…I'm sorry Arthur…I'm so sorry…! I just…if I hadn't gone back at the last minute just to check on you…!" Alfred sobbed.

Arthur pulled back, and stared at him for a moment, before letting his shoulders fall. "But…why? Why did you let them? Why did you just watch me? And…what made you go back…?"

The American sighed. "Over the weekend I…oh God…it hasn't just been over the weekend…for a long time, in fact. But anyways…I've been feeling so weird around you lately, Arthur. And that feeling scared me…I didn't…I didn't want that to…to ruin anything we had…"

He paused to watch the Englishman's curious face, before continuing. "I knew that you needed me from the first day we met…I wanted to be your hero from the start. But when that feeling kept growing bigger and bigger I…I guess I thought that if I distanced myself for a while it would go away and I could brush it off as a bad phase or something and everything would be okay…but it wasn't. It only got you hurt more…I'm sorry…and the reason I turned back was because I realized I was being stupid…and that…I was only running away…"

Arthur's face felt hot despite how cold it seemed to be getting. Alfred's face was scarlet, and that only made it even harder for him to ignore the sound of his pounding heart. "Alfred…tell…tell me…what was that feeling?"

Their eyes met again, and this time they seemed to smile. "Love."

He swallowed heavily, feeling his heart practically screaming at him. Alfred felt it too, and slowly, as if asking permission, he began to close the distance between them. Arthur didn't know what he wanted, so naturally, he let it happen.

Soon he felt a pair of lips press against his own, and he couldn't deny that it felt so simply amazing. It was a bit wet, and a little sloppy, but it was loving and pure, innocent in an aspect he'd never felt before. He responded shortly after, just as unsure, but it was wonderful all the same.

The kiss lasted for a few moments that seemed like the eternity they'd always wanted. After a little while they pulled back, and for a good few minutes there was silence, just pure silence other than the sounds of the waves rushing in and out again.

Arthur licked his lips. "Love…huh?"

"Yeah…funny thing isn't it?"

Alfred gave a weak smile as he pulled Arthur into another hug. "Can…can you forgive me for being such a…such a…whatever you call me?"

This time Arthur was able to embrace him back, before he nodded slowly. "Of course, you stupid git."

He pulled back, and Alfred looked as if he were about to cry. But he shook his head, as the American kissed him again on the forehead.

"Besides…" Arthur began, his cheeks tinting pink. "You came back for me."

"Will you let me love you, then?" the American asked quietly.

There was a momentary pause, before the Brit began to laugh. It was melodic, sounding truly unique, like no one else.

"Alfred Jones, I don't think you'd stop even if I told you no…however…" he took hold of his hand, and squeezed it lightly. "I wouldn't dream of anything better, because…I love you too."

The words 'I love you' felt smooth on his tongue, as if he'd been meaning to say those words all along. It felt like those words had needed to come out more than anything in the entire world. And as Alfred laughed loudly, that same adorable, dorky laugh that seemed to familiar, he felt simply, better, fuller.

Because there was never an Arthur, without his Alfred.