Saudade:

(Noun) The feeling of longing for something or someone you love and which is lost.

"Mr. Kirkland?" a dreary voice. Why were they all dreary?

Dull eyes flashed up.

"Ah, it is you. Lucky guess. Ready?"

Arthur stood and followed the man to another room where the room was empty. Lifeless. Confined. How the windows caged him in so. How the blinds blinded him so.

"Take a seat," the dreary voice spoke to him again and he sat. "Can you begin with why you felt you needed this session?"

He wondered why he always started with a question.

Arthur sighed. He did pay for this after all, though once he was there, it all seemed to be intimidating. How did people come to this place regularly? It seemed to suck his energy away.

He swallowed.

"Love," oh such a simple, painstaking word.

Dreary Voice nodded in acknowledgement. He'd probably heard that a million times past two hundred and three.

"I see, I get that a lot," of course he did. "Mind to elaborate? Has this love been a long-term problem for you? One person or love in general?"

"Long term," Arthur said plainly, "One person."
"I see," Dreary Voice repeated. "Care to spill out everything that's bothering you? Why is this a problem?"

Arthur's eyes scanned the carpet. He always asked questions. But of course, therapists were supposed to help with your problems, so they had to get you to talk. He felt so pathetic; being reduced to this. But it was really either this or cutting. He heard that once you started it was too difficult to stop and that was his only other option at this point. He'd tried everything else but this and cutting. It was time to give it a chance, wasn't it?

"It's…" he wasn't sure if the therapist would take kindly to homosexuals, so he swapped the pronouns. "I wasn't in love with her at first. Her parents hired me to look after her when she was young. About seven. Her parents weren't gone that often at first; I only came in on the weekends. They started to leave more often, and more often, and more often… I ended up looking after her nearly every day from the moment she woke to the moment she slept. This went on for a whole decade…"

He quieted.

Dreary Voice nodded occasionally and waited a while before speaking: "When did you fall in love with her?"

"Am I wrong for loving her? I was practically her father. She saw me more often than her own parents. Why… Is this a sin?"

Dreary Voice sighed, thinking for a moment. "How far apart are you, age-wise?" he asked, "and my question from before?"

"Eight years," his voice was thick. "And five years ago."

"When you were twenty-seven and she was nineteen?"

Arthur nodded.

"I want some way to get rid of this feeling. I hate it."

"You can't get rid of love."

That's a lie.

"Tell me what you love about her."

Arthur's heart clenched. How would this help? He didn't understand. He wanted to get rid of this feeling. He couldn't have his love. Why dwell on an impossibility?

"Well?" Dreary Voice prodded.

Arthur sighed a shuddering breath.

"She's… Beautiful," he said quietly. "She certainly has the brightest smile I've ever seen. She's an idiot sometimes but she's adorable at the same time. She stuffs her face when she eats and doesn't care if she gets fat, even though she never does. She's so strong… Mentally and physically," he paused and huffed a laugh. "I'd say she's stronger than me."

Dreary Voice had lifted his face into a smile as he listened. "That's wonderful," he said.

"No it isn't. I hate it. How do I get rid of it?"

"You can't," Dreary Voice repeated.

This wasn't helping at all. Not at all.

"Do you see her anymore?" Dreary Voice asked.

"She's… Engaged."

"Well, that's unfortunate."

"Tell me how to get rid of this."

"You can't, I'm sorry."

"There is a way."

The room fell still…

And in the reaping silence a dancer fell from the walls.

"When's the wedding?"

Arthur's eyes were covered with the fringe of his hair. "May seventeenth. She told me I had the first seat."

Dreary Voice's voice was gone.

"I'm sorry, this isn't helping," Arthur stood abruptly and in the glistening lights you could finally see the tears in his eyes.

"We have half an hour left of the session!" Dreary Voice called, but Arthur was gone.

His feet stung with each pounding step to the asphalt but he didn't care. He ran, he ran, he ran.

"Damn it all!" he shouted the skies and hit a wall next to him. "Why aren't you mine?" he whispered and leant against the bricks. He pounded his fists onto the wall like a child. He was thirty-two and stuck in some demented love triangle. He hadn't even met the man his love was going to marry. He didn't know who he was or what he did that Arthur failed to do.

"Arthur?" a familiar voice, and yet with such unfamiliar caution. He didn't recognize it at first.

His eyes darted up to meet the ones he dreaded most. The ones he loved most.

"A-Alfred?" he responded. He couldn't stop crying. The tears came faster now. Why couldn't he hold him?

"H-Hey, what's wrong?" he took a step closer.

Arthur took a step back.

"I hate you," he whispered under his breath. "I fucking hate you."

He turned around and ran faster.

"What?! What did I do?!" he heard the voice in the distance. He ran faster. Why couldn't he run fast enough?

His head turned around—sure enough he was following him. Why would he come after him?

He saw Alfred's eyes grow wider—"Arthur, stop! Look—"

His voice died.

There were blaring sounds and shouts and sickening noises. Alfred felt ill as he ran faster and fell to his knees.

"Arthur? Arthur? Open your eyes!" he shouted with wide eyes in a mixture of sadness and anger. He turned to the man by the truck. "That was a red light! Are you blind? You idiot! That was a damn red light! That means stop!"

"I-I didn't see—" but Alfred didn't listen after that.

I hate you. I fucking hate you. And still his cheeks were tearstained.

"Kid, you have to let go. The ambulance is here."

Alfred was breathing too quickly as the man was ripped from his arms. His eyes lifted, panic-stricken as he stumbled after him.

"Family only," a nurse stopped him.

"I'm his—his boyfriend," Alfred lied. He needed to get on.

The nurse stepped aside and he ran to Arthur on the stretcher. He had an oxygen mask on and there was a nurse wiping blood from his temple.

The one day he saw Arthur cry was also the day he saw him die. No he isn't dead. Do you hear that beeping? That's his heart. He's alive. He's living right now.

Alfred took his hand and held it. It was getting colder.

"I don't know why you… hate me…" he said quietly. "But I love you… So please… Please, please, please don't die.

"Good morning, Alfred," the nurse greeted him. "You're early."

Alfred grinned, taking a flower from the bouquet in his hands and giving her one. "I just have a feeling today."

The nurse nodded, "I hope you're right," is all she said before Alfred walked down the hall he'd memorized.

He smiled, entering room 114.

The beeping of a heart monitor bounced off the walls.

"Hey, Arthur," he said quietly. "May eighteenth huh? Guess you missed Mattie's wedding yesterday... Y'know what he told me?" he asked the heartbeat of a man.

He paused. What'd he tell you? Arthur asked.

"He said I should get married someday. I said I had my eye on someone."

He looked through the bouquet of flowers, reaching inside and looking at a ring, smiling wistfully.

"What would you say if I gave this to you?"

He received no answer.

Theatrically, the heart monitor sped up, just by the slightest amount. Alfred's eyes looked frantically around the room. Was that a bad thing? Does he call a nurse? Does he—

Eyes closed tighter and fluttered open.

Alfred fell silent, eyes widening and looking at the green irises he'd missed for so long. Arthur made a noise and turned his head. Alfred laughed in shock. He did have a feeling that day—was this it?

"Arthur? Arthur? Arthur? Arthur?" he asked over and over.

"Shut up… idiot… God, I have a headache…"

Alfred laughed harder, dropping the flowers and the ring. He put his head in his hands, laughing and crying at the same time.

"What's wrong with you?" Arthur's voice was hoarse. "What…"

His eyes fell upon something flashing in the light.

"What… What is that?"

Alfred looked up, smiling wider than anything Arthur had ever seen. He followed Arthur's eyes down to the ground. His smiled shrunk.

He scrambled to the ground and picked up the flowers and the ring, stuffing the ring in his pocket. "I brought you flowers!" he grinned.

"Was that a ring?" Arthur's eyes were still on the ground. "Was that an engagement ring?"

Alfred's mouth was dry. "Of course not."

"It was."

The room fell silent like many others before it.

"Look I—"

"I never met him."

Alfred's eyes grew seeds of confusion. "Met who?"

Stones were in place of his heart as he took his time to respond, "your fiancé."

Alfred looked even more puzzled. "M-My what? Fiancé?"

"You... Gave me… A wedding invitation?"

"Yeah… For Matthew's wedding. D-Did you think I—"

"Oh my god, you idiot…"

"You really thought I was getting married?!" Alfred looked at him like he grew a third arm. "It had his name on it!"

"The front just… Had the date… I…" his cheeks flushed. He groaned, "I hate you," he said, thought Alfred could tell the venom was gone from his voice.

The two fell into an air of silence once more.

"So what was the ring? It was a ring wasn't it?"

"What ring? All I have are flowers!" he laughed nervously.

"You're a terrible liar."

"Am not!"
"What was it?"

"A-A flower!"

"A shiny, round, small flower?"
"F-Fine it was a ring!" Alfred blurted, squeezing his eyes shut and a blush dusted over his cheeks. "I-I…" he didn't know how to explain.

So he repeated.

"Hey, Arthur," his voice shook nervously.

"What are you—"

"May eighteenth huh? Guess you… missed Mattie's wedding yesterday…"

He swallowed nervously.

"Do you k-know what he told me?" took the ring from his pocket again and turned it over in his hand. "He told me… I should get married someday. I-I said I had my eye on someone."

His heart raced too quickly to be alive and he held the ring in front of him—in front of Arthur's wide, green eyes.

His words were jumbled together: "What would you say if I gave this to you?"

He received a breathless response.

"Yes."