APH and its characters © Hidekaz Himaruya

WITH COMFORT

Arthur didn’t know how he made the mistake to visit Asia during typhoon season. But he knew he didn’t want to be in Europe or America when July came around.

He sat on his bed and gazed through the blinds. He listened to the howling of the wind. The raindrops, like bullets, ricocheted off the window glass. Flashes of lighting illuminated his bedroom, and the sound of thunders, like war drums, echoed in his ears. He blinked with annoyance, knowing full-well that he wouldn’t get any sleep tonight. With a displeased sigh, he planted his feet on the carpeted floor and slipped into his slippers.

He left his room and headed for the kitchen. Or at least that was the plan before he screamed at a white-clothed bump sitting outside his door.

“Bloody hell!”

The Englishman shrieked as he stumbled backward. He fumbled for the light switch. The sudden brightness blinded him temporarily and led him to think that he had run into one of the Asian apparitions.

But as soon as he could see clearly, Arthur was able to take a deep breath to calm his nerves. Not a ghost, just a boy.

“Hong Kong,” Arthur said in between breathes, “why aren’t you in your bed?”

The young boy glanced up with stoic – and tired – eyes. He readjusted the thick white sheet wrapped around his slender body. Arthur took a step forward and lowered his upper body. As he closed the distance between them, Hong Kong’s eyes darted to the ground. Brown eyes refused to meet the green ones.

“What’s the matter, lad?”

The boy offered no response. Arthur tilted his head with a frown. He wasn’t good with children after all.

“If nothing is wrong, then return to your room,” he said.

But the boy didn’t move. Arthur rested his hand on his hip, foot tapping impatiently. He wanted to say something but his voice was drowned out by a loud roar of thunders. He saw Hong Kong flinched, fingers gripping the sheet, and chin pulling toward his chest.

“Scared?” Arthur turned his head to look at the window behind him. He turned back to Hong Kong quickly and reassured, “It’s just thunders.”

Hong Kong raised his head. Arthur shuddered at the lack of emotion on the young boy’s face. If it weren’t for the bodily signs, Arthur couldn’t tell that Hong Kong was afraid. Now that he thought about it, he had never seen Hong Kong cry nor had he seen him smile or laugh. Hong Kong was the opposite of a certain boy he used to know.

He wondered briefly what Hong Kong was hiding behind his mask and if he was only expressionless when he was around him.

“Come on,” Arthur said, extending a hand, “come with me.”

Hong Kong studied the hand without moving a muscle. Arthur sighed – frustrated. He knelt and looked at his adoptee from eye-level. Another thunder roared. He saw first-handed how Hong Kong’s lips quivered and narrowed his eyes. The boy actually looked like a child for a short moment before the stoniness settled back in.

“You’re scared of the storm, aren’t you? Then you can sleep in my bed tonight. It’s not good to stay up all night.”

He stood and offered his hand once again. His hand was left in the air as Hong Kong drilled a stare through it.

“Come on,” the English urged lowly.

Hong Kong stood, but he didn’t take Arthur’s hand. He gripped the sheet tightly around him, using it as a shield, as he stood next to the Englishman. Arthur sighed with a pitiful smile. He led the boy into his room and signaled for him to get into bed.

He had to suppress a laugh when he saw Hong Kong climb into bed still with the blanket wrapped around him. Like a cocoon, the boy lied unmoving on the very edge of the bed. Arthur stepped around to the other side and slid in. Thunders banged. Hong Kong tucked his knees up.

“It’s alright to sleep under the sheet,” Arthur said, fumbling with the hem of the blanket. “You’ll catch a cold in this weather.”

He felt Hong Kong hesitated for a moment. Then the white sheet was casted off to the floor and Hong Kong was sliding under the blanket. Still, he kept close to the edge. Arthur stared at the back of the boy’s head. An unpleasant memory invaded his mind. He looked away; another sigh escaped his throat.

“Don’t fall now,” Arthur joked as he casually tucked the boy in. He stopped immediately when he saw Hong Kong hunched his shoulders. “Right… Good night, chap.”

Arthur shifted and rolled over to his side. He gazed at the bright flashes from outside. The rapid firing of rain was too harsh to the ears and reminded him of muskets. He turned his head slightly and peeped at the boy next to him. Hong Kong hadn’t moved a centimeter, and Arthur didn’t know if he should be amazed or crept out by the boy’s stillness.

A loud blast of thunder shook the house. He felt Hong Kong kick his feet. Then there was a shift and the mattress bounced.

Arthur turned over but stopped when he found Hong Kong’s forehead pressing against his back. He brought his arm up and gently draped it over the boy’s shoulder. He waited, and when he didn’t receive a negative reaction, he turned fully around so that he was facing Hong Kong.

The boy’s chin was pulled into his chest. Arthur brushed his fingers through the smooth dark brown hair. He stopped when he saw Hong Kong furrowed his brows. He pulled away and kept his hand at a distance. He pursed his lips – disappointed.

In the midst of a raucous thunder, Arthur whispered, “I just want to protect you.”

Perhaps it was only the howling of the wind or his wishful thinking, but he heard Hong Kong responded, “I know.”

And he couldn’t help himself. He wrapped his arms around the boy and pulled him close, kept him tight in his embrace. Hong Kong didn’t resist; he only stayed rigid and motionless.

They huddled close through the clamorous night, each greedily holding on the other person.

Each wishing they were somewhere else.

Each wishing they were with someone else.

THE END.

Boyue’s Note: Aiyah! Just a little something that I’ve been meaning to write… and I missed the July 1st deadline.

Arthur can be a good brother, yes? 8Db

07.02.09

1:05 AM