The Toy Solider

7. Sober

"Sober" – Tom Grennan

Arthur woke to Alfred's arms encasing his body. His warm breath tickling his neck and his soft hair brushing against his cheek. His eyes were closed and a small smile graced his face. Arthur felt his heart flutter as he continued to gaze at the man embracing him. His strong arms gave him a sense of security and belonging; one not even Francis had managed to have radiated so fiercely. A peaceful feeling that swept over him and sent him into a calm state, his mind completely free of anything that wasn't Alfred. Their bodies moulded perfectly together, arms and legs tangled in a web of love. Arthur's fingers traced Alfred's shoulder, then his ribs and around to his back. He felt the jagged lines criss-crossing Alfred's back and reaching up to his neck. Alfred shuddered beneath his light touches, cracking one eye open to gaze up at Arthur.

"What's the story?'

"Story?" Alfred asked, his voice slightly raspy.

"Every scar has a story behind it."

"I got whipped aboard the ships."

Arthur went quiet, anger and confusion taking over his once calm state.

"Why?" He choked out.

Alfred's eyes softened, one of his hands moving to gently cup Arthur's face. "It doesn't matter. What's in the past stays in the past."

Arthur wanted to protest, he wanted to keep pressing for answers, but the pained look in Alfred's eyes hurt him as well. If only he could carry Alfred's pain for himself.

The two stayed like that, holding each other, until the sun was high. Their embrace was broken when Arthur remembered the gift he had made for Alfred. He scurried out of the room only to return a minute later with his hands behind his back and a mischievous smile on his face.

"What's that?" Alfred asked as Arthur sat down on his bed.

"A gift."

"For me?"

Arthur let out a small giggle when Alfred's face lit up.

"Yes, for you. Close your eyes," he instructed. With one hand Arthur took Alfred's and cupped them, gently placing his gift in Alfred's palms.

"You can look now."

The gift was a small hand-carved toy solider. It was dressed in a black hat, a red jacket and black pants with matching shoes. Its face was simple: two black dots as eyes and a thin curved line for a mouth. The little solider was holding a long gun and saluting with his other hand. Alfred stared at it in awe.

"Did you make this?" He asked.

"Yes." Arthur replied, "Do you like it?"

Alfred lunged at Arthur, tackling him into a bear hug and nuzzling his cheek. "I love it!"

Arthur laughed, returning the gesture. "That's good."

Arthur watched as Alfred sat back and continued to turn the creation over in his hands, taking in every imperfection and detail. His eyes crinkled around the edges and his smile grew impossibly bigger with each new discovery. The look of pure joy and innocence that graced Alfred's face was one that no person could ever match. But instead of warming Arthur's heart it saddened him, that someone so full of positivity could be treated in such a dehumanizing way by complete strangers.

"What's wrong, Artie?"

Arthur let out a choked sob. No words came out of his mouth, eyes tearing up instead.