Soul Mate - Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Alfred's lips brushed against Arthur's, moving away briefly before coming back down on the Brit's in a firmer kiss, one arm snaking its way around the smaller blonde's waist gently.

Arthur felt his breath hitch slightly when Alfred's lips brushed against his a second time. But at the same time, it felt... right. As if this were supposed to be as natural as breathing to the two of them. Alfred's arm wrapped around him, gently pulling him closer.

Arthur leaned forward a fraction, his own arms going up and wrapping themselves around Alfred's neck, pulling himself closer to Alfred's broad chest. The American tentatively put a hand up to cradle the back of his head, tangling those long fingers into Arthur's hair, the arm around his waist tightening slightly, holding him firmly in place. What exactly had brought on this impromptu kiss? Arthur wasn't really sure. At that moment however, it didn't matter to him.

Arthur felt Alfred's tongue lick as his bottom lip, asking for entrance. Arthur granted it, feeling his body heat up slightly, his face flush. He surrendered himself over to the taller male, knowing that, in a battle for dominance, Alfred would most likely win anyways.

Damn, where had he learned to kiss like this? Arthur's head swam, unable to think of a coherent thought other than the fact that he enjoyed the feeling of Alfred's lips on his.

A few more endless moments passed, but it wasn't nearly long enough. Arthur's need for oxygen soon overpowered his need for Alfred, and he pulled back, panting for breath. If the heat radiating from his cheeks said anything, it was that he was a bright cherry red.

Alfred was breathing a little more heavily than usual, as well, but had made a sound of complaint when Arthur pulled away. "What's wrong?"

"I can't breathe, you tosser," Arthur murmured darkly, looking away. Now that Alfred wasn't kissing the daylights out of him, his brain cells were back in working order, and he'd gained his sense of reason back.

Alfred turned red, rubbing the back of his head. "Oh... Uh... Sorry?" The taller blonde laughed nervously.

Arthur didn't respond at first, still trying to find a reason as to why he'd kissed Alfred - or, rather, why he enjoyed kissing Alfred. Eventually, he decided that there was really nothing he could do but come clean about it. "It wasn't that... I didn't like it," he said slowly. "It was just... unexpected."

Alfred smiled a bit. "So a kiss has to be planned?"

Arthur glared at him, but his cheeks burned a darker red. "I-I never said that, you twit."

Alfred grinned, like the cat that caught the canary. "Hmm. Then is it okay if I kiss you?" he teased.

Arthur glared at him, but didn't move away when Alfred leaned forward. He closed his eyes, waiting to feel Alfred kiss him again.

After a few seconds, he cracked his eyes open again. Alfred was back in his normal sitting position, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "You never said it was okay," he said, singsong.

Arthur growled in annoyance, leaning forward and capturing the American's lips on his own. At least it would shut up the stupid Yankee for a bit. It felt just as right, if not more, than the first kiss.

~*~*~*~USUK~*~*~*~

Will-o'-the-wisps drifted around Arthur lazily, mindless in their wandering. Arthur reached out, allowing one to land on his hand like a ghostly firefly. He smiled a bit, then watched it closely as it flickered slightly, and then flew back off into the night. Arthur looked down at the sleeping Alfred, wondering just how he would react if he saw his room at night. Other creatures, lost souls like Arthur, seemed to flock here, but only when Alfred was deep asleep. Perhaps it was for the best, considering the other boy's phobia of the supernatural.

Arthur watched as Alfred stirred a bit, rolled onto his side, and began breathing softly again, falling back into his deep slumber. His hand was hanging off the edge of the bed, his fingertips just barely brushing against the hardwood floors. The dead boy moved closer, concentrating on making his hands as solid as possible, and gently lifted Alfred's arm back onto the mattress, and then covered him a little more snugly with his quilt. Alfred moved deeper into the cocoon of blankets, quiet snores escaping his mouth.

Arthur smiled lightly, feeling his heart warm with affection towards the American.

When it had happened, he didn't know, but he did know that he had a bit of a crush on Alfred. He'd admitted it to himself when he'd kissed Alfred. He wasn't afraid of homosexuality. Though he had been raised in a human era where it was seen as a sin, as an act of Satan, or as taboo, he'd spent more time with the Fae, who had stressed the fact that "love is love". Titiana had been one of the main Fae he'd kept in contact with, and she was always saying that, when humans were made, they had a Soul Mate, a person made just for them. They would love this person no matter what they did, and gender played no role in it.

"Gender," she had told him, "has no place in love. Neither does social standing, monetary wealth, physical appearances, or distance. If you love a person, you will stop at nothing to be with them. Not even death can keep apart soul mates, Arthur. Their worlds revolve around the other, and they'll be like the first glimpse of the sun after a lifetime in darkness."

Alfred was definitely a source of light for Arthur, though the stubborn Brit would never admit it to Alfred's face. Alfred's personality was like a summer day - bright, sunny, and cheery. Alfred was his sun, bringing light to the dark exile Arthur had been banished to when he'd woken up in his In-Between for the first time. Though he was more than irritating, more than asinine, and beyond naive beyond all belief, Arthur had a feeling that he was better off for having met Alfred.

Though Arthur wasn't sure if he could label his affection for Alfred as 'love' or not, he did know that there was something between the two of them.

He kept the term 'soul mate' out of his thoughts at the moment. The notion was ridiculous. They had been born in different eras. He'd died before the Civil War, for Christ's sake! The most they could truly be was friends, wasn't it?

Because Arthur was rather sure his 'soul mate' would have been born in his own era, and would have died by now as a consequence. For some reason, thinking about soul mates was making his chest hurt.

~*~*~*~USUK~*~*~*~

Alfred watched as his younger brother flipped a pancake expertly with a flick of his wrist. No one made better pancakes than his twin - screw IHOP, Alfred would take Matthew's buttermilk specialties any day. Matthew flipped it onto a spatula, adding the finished flat piece of heaven onto a stack about a foot high. "Alfred, go ahead and take some before they get cold," Matthew said off-handedly. Alfred grabbed the top three cakes and proceeded to smother them with sugary maple syrup.

The twins' mother came down, still dressed in her pajamas, a robe thrown over the top. As long as the twins could remember, she'd worn the fuzzy terry cloth robe to breakfast. She sat down at the table, and stole Alfred's plate of pancakes when her older son went back to the fridge to fetch the orange juice. "Hey!" Alfred complained, pouting a bit. "Well, fine. Want some orange juice to go with your stolen hotcakes?"

"Yes, please," she responded, smiling mischievously. It was no mystery where Alfred he gotten his personality from, that was for sure. Alfred rolled his eyes and poured three glasses of juice, setting them out on the table. Alfred fixed himself up another plate, again using up far too much syrup. Matthew continued flipping pancakes for a few minutes before joining his brother and mother.

The family ate in silence for a few minutes, intent on enjoying their breakfast. After they had staved off their grumbling stomachs a bit, they began talking amongst themselves.

"I can't believe you boys are so grown up already," Kimberly sighed. "Nearly eighteen years old."

"There's still a month to go, Mom," Matthew pointed out before taking another bite of food.

"Thirty days, sixteen hours, five minutes, and forty-three seconds," Alfred said without pausing, still eating pancakes at an alarmingly fast speed. Matthew and Kimberly stared at Alfred for a few seconds in stunned silence before they both burst into peals of laughter. "What?" Alfred asked, confused.

"You," Matthew laughed, hiccupping slightly.

"How on Earth did you calculate that so fast?" Kimberly giggled, holding her stomach in pain.

Alfred narrowed his eyes at his family. "Hmph. Well it wasn't too hard, if you can go by military time. Besides, I guessed on the seconds."

For some reason, that made the other two blonde family members laugh harder, their eyes watering from laughing so hard.

~*~*~*~USUK~*~*~*~

Alfred crossed off another day on his calendar. June 4th - a month before his birthday. The day before the Fourth of July - which had to be the most awesome birthday ever - was marked with an asterisk. His father was arriving in town then, driving in from Boston after the flight from Los Angeles. Arthur was on his window seat, gazing out at the window as the sun started to climb above the horizon to the East. Today was the day they were going to begin planting Arthur's 'presents'.

Alfred changed out of his pajama pants into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, ready for another day of yard work. Most of the rosebushes were planted, but he still had to go around and get the compost prepared and spread out among the flowers. After he'd finished with that, Alfred planned on exploring the woods Northeast of the house. He'd always enjoyed taking walks in the Redwood Forests back in California. Though the trees here weren't anywhere near as large, there was still a nice patch of untamed land here for him to explore.

Arthur leaned his head against the glass of the window, letting out a slow breath.

"Something wrong, Artie?" Alfred called over his shoulder, buckling his belt.

"Nothing," Arthur assured him. "Just... tired. Very tired."

"Why do you think that is?" Alfred stared at Arthur for a few moments. "Maybe my awesome kissing skills are just too much for you to handle!" he laughed, grinning widely.

Arthur turned a neat shade of pink. "No, it bloody well was not your 'awesome' kissing skills," he grumbled darkly. "I'm always tired around this time of year."

"Why's that?" Alfred questioned, running a comb through his hair. As always, he couldn't quite get all of it to lie down - the part in his bangs always had a stubborn strand that refused to stay where it belonged, as far back as he could remember.

"Well..."

"You don't remember, like everything else?" Alfred teased.

"It was around this time of year I died," Arthur said quietly, not removing his gaze from the window.

For once, Alfred shut up. After nearly a full minute of silence, he moved closer to Arthur, perching himself on the window seat next to the dead boy. He reached out, hesitating slightly, wondering why he was even bothering to try touching Arthur outside the In-Between. He laid a hand on Arthur's shoulder. He sunk slightly into Arthur, but there was a bit of resistance - as if Arthur were the consistency of Jell-O. It was unexpected, and he jerked his hand back. He'd assumed that he would simply pass right through Arthur.

Arthur glanced towards him shortly before looking back out the window. "It's all right. You didn't know."

Alfred kicked at the floor, disliking the current situation, but still somehow curious. "What... day did you die?"

"...It was nighttime. I'm not sure how late, really. On July fourth."

Alfred winced slightly. "On my birthday, huh...? Seems rather harsh."

Arthur looked over at him. "...It was a long time ago," he stated decidedly. "So it's okay. I think... It might be okay to share more of my memories with you. For you to know more about me. Maybe... Maybe if I tell you about it, I'll be able to remember more about what happened to me the night I died. Maybe I'll remember the person I forgot."

~*~*~*~USUK~*~*~*~

Titiana gently wove her way through the thick underbrush of the forest. She'd walked this path countless times before, but it still hit her hard each time she retraced her steps from all those years ago. Granted, she had been running then, sprinting as fast as she could.

Though she hadn't been fast enough. She hadn't gotten there in time.

She stopped at the base of a large tree - the tree, really. Guiltily, she laid a small bouquet of flowers on the roots of the ancient oak. She tried to hold back tears, but as with every other time, she failed miserably. It was times like this that she wished she were allowed to interfere with the lives of humans. She wished that she could lead someone - anyone - to this spot. She wished that she could find another Arthur, another person gifted with the Sight that allowed them to see creatures such as herself. She could bring them here, and at least try to begin making up for her mistakes.

She wiped away the stubborn tears that escaped her eyes - she was Queen. She couldn't allow herself to cry.

But it had all been her fault. Oh God, even if she denied it, she knew it was true. She should have stopped him. Everything that had happened that summer in 1842 had been her fault, and all the blame rested on her shoulders.