Reach out for the Sun [UsUk]

Three: Pen, Paper and Candlelight

Evening appeared too quickly for their taste, since they would both give anything to stay with each other longer, stargazing, talking, holding hands... But Alfred and Arthur knew there would be enough days in life to do all of that, many times.
The air was cool and crisp, and those who didn't bring their jacket out sure regretted it by now. Alfred being one of them. Matthew would never let him live it down if he caught a cold.

"I guess this is that sad, but borderline cute moment of the story where we have to part, and we stare at each other's eyes for a moment before one of us leans in for a kiss. And then each of us goes their own way, left with thoughts about how wonderful it was to spend time with the other person." Arthur spoke in a peaceful tone as Alfred and him stood on the sidewalk next to the American's apartment, the first station on the Brit's longer way home. "I've read and written my fair share of romance novels, I know where this is going."

Alfred lightly chuckled at the statement, sighing at how true that actually sounded. He was planning to kiss the Brit goodbye, and nothing he said was going to change it. "You're right, it is exactly that part." And without further hesitation, he pressed his lips against Arthur's softer ones, placing his hands on the shorter man's shoulders. It was magical - a feeling neither of them had experienced ever before. An instant connection.

It was the best moment of their life.

Arthur couldn't help but let out an almost inaudible, muffled sound of pleasure as he melted into the kiss, wrapping both of his arms around Alfred's waist. The musician was gentle, his movements tender and loving rather than rough and quick.

It wasn't cold anymore.

All previous loneliness that both of them experienced seemed to have dissipated, disappearing as it was suddenly replaced by a new kind of warmth, a feeling of love.

"I... Ah... It feels better than novels could describe it." Arthur whispered, parting from the kiss to take a breath, gazing into Alfred's eyes. "I-I think I love you, Alfred. I know we just met, and this goes against everything I stand for, but I think I love you."

"I'll be damned, I never thought I'd hear those words." The younger smiled, tightly embracing the Englishman, not wanting to let go. "I guess the writer just experienced a love story in person."

"And it couldn't be better."

- - -

That night, Arthur was writing again. But this time, he didn't want his story to be sad. Instead, it was about a boy.

A nineteen year old Philadelphian boy with the brightest smile, the most beautiful eyes, the softest lips and the most gentle hands that Arthur had ever seen, felt or touched. He was kindhearted, he played the violin, and he changed the lonely man's life in the blink of an eye.

It was something new, something different, but something oh, so wonderful, and Arthur had a feeling it would truly last forever.

The boy was so cheerful, despite anything that happened he always wore that same smile that radiated positivity, energy and everything one could desire. Truth be told, he was quite clumsy. As if he didn't know what he was doing, he was just there to do whatever he wished to do. Even if that meant dropping everything on the floor and making a joke of it without doubting his actions. Even if that meant tripping over air, and spending ten minutes laughing about it.

He was magical.

And he changed Arthur's life.

Arthur couldn't stop writing. He didn't care that he accidentally switched to third person, he didn't care that it lacked so much description and his usual style that he kept so narrow.
He wrote straight from the soul. No sorrow, no sadness, no tears or sad endings, only happiness right ahead with the new found love which filled his heart in less than a full day, as if it was blooming in a much faster pace than expected.