Maps--Maroon 5
Go get some tissues. You might need them. : )
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"I want to leave you," Alfred said, walking away and not looking back.
It destroyed Arthur; those five words and Alfred walking away, abruptly ending their relationship. To Arthur, Alfred was his everything, the sole purpose the Brit would gladly take a bullet for him.
Arthur had constantly asked himself what did I do wrong? Was it his cooking? Perhaps it was his eyebrows? Arthur didn't know the answer--the question-- and because of that, he'd constantly beat himself up for it. It had been over four months since their breakup. Alfred was able to move on, so why couldn't he?
Arthur had been moping every day, to the point where he couldn't sleep or eat properly. Over the past four months, he'd grown more pale, moody and slim. It got so bad that Francis had to live with him so he could recover.
It was the sixteenth day of Francis living with the Brit. The Frenchman was trying to nurse Arthur back to his normal state, but no matter how hard he tried Arthur kept denying everything. From how heartbroken he was, to saying he was happy and well. It contradicted his actions and looks.
"Arthur, want some tea," Francis tried again and again. Arthur shook his head and went back staring out the window. Francis sighed. "Here, I'll make you some, and you can have it whenever." Arthur nodded, still looking away.
As Francis made the tea, taking many, many tries, Arthur went up to him. In a hoarse voice, he told him that he was going to get fresh air. Francis gave it a moment, thinking, before he sent Arthur off. "Please be careful."
"I will," Arthur responded, walking out the apartment.
Fresh air hit him in the face like a baseball bat. Arthur decided to walk to town, just to get a few things. Shoving his hands in his pockets he made his way downtown. It wasn't far, no, and was perfect for Arthur.
He was already halfway there, which was surprisingly fast considering his condition. The Brit had walked past many couples, but the next one stopped him in his tracks.
It was the face of Alfred and another male. Alfred looked the same, except for big bags under his eyes. He was also far happier with that male. Arthur couldn't tell who the male was, but he had broad shoulders, pale skin and hair, and a Russian accent.
Before Arthur could walk away, he caught Alfred's eye. Although there was a distance, Arthur could see guilt and regret swimming in those ocean eyes. The Brit turned away, unable to look any longer, and walked off, leaving Alfred and his, possibly, new boyfriend.
Arthur walked home, dragging his feet, head down. When he got to the apartment, he walked to his bedroom, completely ignoring Francis, and slammed the door before laying on his bed. He laid there for a good couple of minutes before seeing a pen and piece of paper on his desk.
He ignored Francis banging on the door, demanding him in. When he finished with the paper, he sat on the door, letter in hand. "Arthur, open up!" Arthur ignored him again, tear sliding down his face.
"I'm sorry, Francis..."
**
That was the last time Alfred saw Arthur--when they crossed paths down the street. Months had passed from that event, and through those months, he found out that he couldn't go on with his new boyfriend.
Alfred was about to turn the T.V on when he heard a knock on the door. "Alfred, you here?"
The American opened the door to be greeted with Francis. "Hey, dude," he said, not as enthusiastically. Francis, along with Alfred, had bags under his eyes. Dull blue eyes matched the bags.
"Al... Arthur wanted me to give this to you," he said, placing a letter in Alfred's hands before walking off. The American was stunned at the sudden talk about Arthur. Francis disappeared when he looked at the letter in his hands.
Maps
-For you, Alfred
Alfred opened the letter at the door, not bothered to move.
Alfred,
I missed our conversations, and couldn't stop thinking of you. Honestly, I thought we had it all--I thought we were going to live a happy life. But, like every good thing, it ended, just like that.
Why did you run away?
I was there for at your darkest times. I was there for you. And I've always wondered 'where were you?'
Where were you when I was at my worst, down on my knees? You said you had my back, remember? But where were you?
I'd try not to think of you, but my thoughts always went back to you. It got to the point that I'd sometimes hear your voice at night. I'd hear your voice in my dreams.
It's funny, you've gotten over me, and yet, I can't force myself to get over you. I couldn't because there would always be apart of my heart that belonged to you.
Where were you?
-Arthur
Alfred held the letter in his hands. He turned it around and saw an attachment. It was a map to a familiar place. Alfred didn't bother closing the door as he followed the directions, sprinting for his life.
It was the same hill Arthur and Alfred sat and watched the sunset. One of his favourite memories of Arthur.
The tree was still standing on the top of the hill. Alfred rushed to the tree, and saw carvings in it. When he read it, the map in his hand crumpled, along with his heart.
Here lies Arthur Kirkland
Suicide
"I'll still love you, Alfred."
