Everyday Photo
Title: Everyday Photo
Pairings: USUK
Rating: PG
Warnings: Dementia
Summary: Arthur takes a photo of him and Alfred everyday so Alfred remembers them.
Alfred lay in bed above the covers with his arms spread out and his mouth open. He watched the overhead fan spin slowly, seemingly entranced. The ceiling looked like it was stretching away from him the longer he stared at the fan. He blinked once, twice, and then something dawned on him. He had no idea where he was.
Sitting up and looking around, Alfred tried to catch his bearings. The cream walls with framed photographs of football players weren't familiar; neither were the wood furniture or airplane models hanging from the ceiling. Even the framed football jersey hanging over his headboard wasn't ringing any bells in his memory.
Alfred slowly got out of bed, watching to see if anyone would jump from around the corner. He had to admit- where ever he was, it was high class. He noticed a notebook on the nightstand, and hesitated. "For Alfred" it read. He thought he should take it, but a noise out in the hallway startled him. He stole out of the room as quickly as he could and wandered down the hallway. The sound was coming from downstairs.
Yup, Alfred thought as he looked around the house. Whoever lives here is loaded. But why would a rich person kidnap me?
He reached a landing that overlooked the foyer. The floor was marble and there were expensive vases housing beautiful flowers and priceless statues. At least the chandelier was modest, but it was still fancy enough. At the bottom of the winding staircase was the front door. Alfred could easily run out and call for help. His kidnapper wasn't very good at keeping him hostage. Still, they could appear at any moment. He had to be careful.
Alfred walked down the stairs quietly. His body was tight as he strained his ear to listen for anyone approaching. His best guess was they were busy in the kitchen. It didn't smell particularly wonderful, so maybe they were going to poison him. The front door was just at arm's reach when he heard footsteps heading in his direction.
Alfred bolted out of the house. Suddenly, alarms began to blare from the inside of the house. Alfred put his hands over his ears, but kept running.
"Alfred?!" a man shouted. Alfred didn't turn as he fled. He heard his kidnapper start to give chase.
The front yard was expansive, and a long driveway led down the way to a large, ornate gold gate. Silently, he wished that it was unlocked, that his capture didn't have a gun, and that he could find a neighbor to help him escape. All that mattered to him right now was getting home. But, where was home?
He stopped suddenly when the thought occurred to him that he didn't remember where his home was or what it even looked like. He clutched his head as it began to pound in his chest and ring in his ears. Home. Home meant only one thing- Arthur.
"Alfred!" the man from before ran up to him, breathless, and startled. "Alfred, where are you going?!"
"I… I need to lie down." He had almost run away from his own house. "Artie, I… my head hurts."
"Yes, yes." Arthur held Alfred's head to his chest and rubbed his back. "Come along, dear. I made some snacks for you."
"I'm not hungry."
"You asked me to make you something," Arthur said as he led Alfred back inside. The alarms were still going off. Arthur moved to turn them off with a few pushes to some buttons of the wall mounted pin pad. "Remember, dear? You were very insistent."
"…No," Alfred replied sadly. "When I try to think, it hurts…"
Arthur said nothing more. He took Alfred back upstairs and put him to bed. Alfred tugged on Arthur to join him, to which Arthur happily complied. He put an arm around Alfred and held him to his chest. His fingers carded through Alfred's hair in a relaxing way that eased Alfred from his headache. He closed his eyes and snuggled closer.
"You okay, love?" Arthur murmured.
"Why did I forget you?" Alfred asked slowly.
"Because sometimes you forget…" Arthur kissed Alfred's head. "That's why I take pictures of us together, so you don't forget us. One photo every day."
"Did you take one today?" Alfred looked up at Arthur. He wanted to remember his green eyes, every blonde hair on his English head, the curve of his small frame, and even those unsightly thick eyebrows.
Arthur smiled, like an angel, Alfred thought, and said they hadn't had their picture of the day yet. They lay together and took a photo. Alfred wanted to remember this one, this time.
Alfred laid in bed a short while later. Arthur had gone to clean around the house and let Alfred rest. His head felt better now, but he was still tired. He didn't want to sleep for fear he'd wake up without knowing Arthur again.
That notebook, Alfred suddenly remembered. He knew it was important. He shifted to pick it up. It was large with frayed edges and a well-worn green cover. There was a five year gap date at the bottom. It was in Arthur's handwriting, but Alfred didn't remember ever seeing him write it down.
He carefully opened it to the first page. It was a day planner, and every single date had been filled with Arthur's writing. He looked at the first entry.
August 19th 20XX
We had ice cream today to celebrate our three-year. You had strawberry with sprinkles, and I had mint chocolate chip. It was warm and you talked about going swimming. It was cooler at night, though. We made love in the gazebo.
August 20th 20XX
It was a bad day. Some days you're good, and others you're not as much. It's okay, though. I still love you. I fear I will always love you, though.
Alfred skipped to yesterday's entry. It, too, was filled. Arthur hadn't missed a single day in five years. They've never been apart through-out this entire time.
May 3rd 20XX
I bought a new alarm system. You didn't like it and said you're enough protection in this house. I've no doubt a linebacker such as yourself couldn't protect me, but it's you I worry about. I fear of a time I am away for a short while and you wander out. How am I to know where you'd go? What if you got lost? I couldn't live with myself if something were to happen to you.
Alfred put the notebook down in his lap. He stared at the words as he felt tears well up in his eyes. Had this been going on for five years, or longer? He vaguely remembered this starting when he got a concussion during a football game. Yes, he'd once been quite famous. The doctors said it might be dementia. Why did Arthur stay? Why did he care so much? If he'd heard of such a problem arising and knew all of the conditions that were connected to dementia, why was he still here?
Alfred's head began to hurt again. He moved to hold his head when his hand knocked the notebook. A free piece of lined paper slipped free. It was Arthur's handwriting again. This wasn't part of the planner, but rather just a note to Alfred.
My dearest Alfred,
You have dementia, and, I'm sorry love, it might get worse as time goes on. You could develop worse memory loss or something else entirely. The doctors are unsure. You received this because of a concussion during a Patriots v. Browns game. I'm sure you don't remember, but that's okay. We have it recorded if you want to watch it.
Some days are good days and you're my carefree Alfred I fell in love with all of those years ago. The same one who came out in public, not caring you were a Patriots linebacker that had girls chasing him. You only wanted me. But, other days you are emotional, usually angry, and forgetful. You're heavy with pain of your head.
There is some relief, though, because I will be there with you. Every day. Please, don't feel guilty. This is not your fault. This is my choice. It's mine because I love you.
So, I will remember the days that you cannot. I will record them if you get scared and want some reassurance. I will take a photo of us every day so you won't forget me.
And while it's foolish of me, I continue to hope. I hope for so many things; that there will be a cure, that you have happier days, that you will remember I am not your boyfriend, but your husband. For better or for much worse, I promised my heart to you. I intend to stay with you, my dearest.
Love always, Arthur.Hoshiko2's cents: Recently I read an article in a sports magazine about the girlfriends and wives of retired NFL players who now have to watch the men they love deteriorate into dementia because of concussions they received during their time playing. I was inspired to write this. Those women are amazing to be so strong.
Pairings: USUK
Rating: PG
Warnings: Dementia
Summary: Arthur takes a photo of him and Alfred everyday so Alfred remembers them.
Alfred lay in bed above the covers with his arms spread out and his mouth open. He watched the overhead fan spin slowly, seemingly entranced. The ceiling looked like it was stretching away from him the longer he stared at the fan. He blinked once, twice, and then something dawned on him. He had no idea where he was.
Sitting up and looking around, Alfred tried to catch his bearings. The cream walls with framed photographs of football players weren't familiar; neither were the wood furniture or airplane models hanging from the ceiling. Even the framed football jersey hanging over his headboard wasn't ringing any bells in his memory.
Alfred slowly got out of bed, watching to see if anyone would jump from around the corner. He had to admit- where ever he was, it was high class. He noticed a notebook on the nightstand, and hesitated. "For Alfred" it read. He thought he should take it, but a noise out in the hallway startled him. He stole out of the room as quickly as he could and wandered down the hallway. The sound was coming from downstairs.
Yup, Alfred thought as he looked around the house. Whoever lives here is loaded. But why would a rich person kidnap me?
He reached a landing that overlooked the foyer. The floor was marble and there were expensive vases housing beautiful flowers and priceless statues. At least the chandelier was modest, but it was still fancy enough. At the bottom of the winding staircase was the front door. Alfred could easily run out and call for help. His kidnapper wasn't very good at keeping him hostage. Still, they could appear at any moment. He had to be careful.
Alfred walked down the stairs quietly. His body was tight as he strained his ear to listen for anyone approaching. His best guess was they were busy in the kitchen. It didn't smell particularly wonderful, so maybe they were going to poison him. The front door was just at arm's reach when he heard footsteps heading in his direction.
Alfred bolted out of the house. Suddenly, alarms began to blare from the inside of the house. Alfred put his hands over his ears, but kept running.
"Alfred?!" a man shouted. Alfred didn't turn as he fled. He heard his kidnapper start to give chase.
The front yard was expansive, and a long driveway led down the way to a large, ornate gold gate. Silently, he wished that it was unlocked, that his capture didn't have a gun, and that he could find a neighbor to help him escape. All that mattered to him right now was getting home. But, where was home?
He stopped suddenly when the thought occurred to him that he didn't remember where his home was or what it even looked like. He clutched his head as it began to pound in his chest and ring in his ears. Home. Home meant only one thing- Arthur.
"Alfred!" the man from before ran up to him, breathless, and startled. "Alfred, where are you going?!"
"I… I need to lie down." He had almost run away from his own house. "Artie, I… my head hurts."
"Yes, yes." Arthur held Alfred's head to his chest and rubbed his back. "Come along, dear. I made some snacks for you."
"I'm not hungry."
"You asked me to make you something," Arthur said as he led Alfred back inside. The alarms were still going off. Arthur moved to turn them off with a few pushes to some buttons of the wall mounted pin pad. "Remember, dear? You were very insistent."
"…No," Alfred replied sadly. "When I try to think, it hurts…"
Arthur said nothing more. He took Alfred back upstairs and put him to bed. Alfred tugged on Arthur to join him, to which Arthur happily complied. He put an arm around Alfred and held him to his chest. His fingers carded through Alfred's hair in a relaxing way that eased Alfred from his headache. He closed his eyes and snuggled closer.
"You okay, love?" Arthur murmured.
"Why did I forget you?" Alfred asked slowly.
"Because sometimes you forget…" Arthur kissed Alfred's head. "That's why I take pictures of us together, so you don't forget us. One photo every day."
"Did you take one today?" Alfred looked up at Arthur. He wanted to remember his green eyes, every blonde hair on his English head, the curve of his small frame, and even those unsightly thick eyebrows.
Arthur smiled, like an angel, Alfred thought, and said they hadn't had their picture of the day yet. They lay together and took a photo. Alfred wanted to remember this one, this time.
Alfred laid in bed a short while later. Arthur had gone to clean around the house and let Alfred rest. His head felt better now, but he was still tired. He didn't want to sleep for fear he'd wake up without knowing Arthur again.
That notebook, Alfred suddenly remembered. He knew it was important. He shifted to pick it up. It was large with frayed edges and a well-worn green cover. There was a five year gap date at the bottom. It was in Arthur's handwriting, but Alfred didn't remember ever seeing him write it down.
He carefully opened it to the first page. It was a day planner, and every single date had been filled with Arthur's writing. He looked at the first entry.
August 19th 20XX
We had ice cream today to celebrate our three-year. You had strawberry with sprinkles, and I had mint chocolate chip. It was warm and you talked about going swimming. It was cooler at night, though. We made love in the gazebo.
August 20th 20XX
It was a bad day. Some days you're good, and others you're not as much. It's okay, though. I still love you. I fear I will always love you, though.
Alfred skipped to yesterday's entry. It, too, was filled. Arthur hadn't missed a single day in five years. They've never been apart through-out this entire time.
May 3rd 20XX
I bought a new alarm system. You didn't like it and said you're enough protection in this house. I've no doubt a linebacker such as yourself couldn't protect me, but it's you I worry about. I fear of a time I am away for a short while and you wander out. How am I to know where you'd go? What if you got lost? I couldn't live with myself if something were to happen to you.
Alfred put the notebook down in his lap. He stared at the words as he felt tears well up in his eyes. Had this been going on for five years, or longer? He vaguely remembered this starting when he got a concussion during a football game. Yes, he'd once been quite famous. The doctors said it might be dementia. Why did Arthur stay? Why did he care so much? If he'd heard of such a problem arising and knew all of the conditions that were connected to dementia, why was he still here?
Alfred's head began to hurt again. He moved to hold his head when his hand knocked the notebook. A free piece of lined paper slipped free. It was Arthur's handwriting again. This wasn't part of the planner, but rather just a note to Alfred.
My dearest Alfred,
You have dementia, and, I'm sorry love, it might get worse as time goes on. You could develop worse memory loss or something else entirely. The doctors are unsure. You received this because of a concussion during a Patriots v. Browns game. I'm sure you don't remember, but that's okay. We have it recorded if you want to watch it.
Some days are good days and you're my carefree Alfred I fell in love with all of those years ago. The same one who came out in public, not caring you were a Patriots linebacker that had girls chasing him. You only wanted me. But, other days you are emotional, usually angry, and forgetful. You're heavy with pain of your head.
There is some relief, though, because I will be there with you. Every day. Please, don't feel guilty. This is not your fault. This is my choice. It's mine because I love you.
So, I will remember the days that you cannot. I will record them if you get scared and want some reassurance. I will take a photo of us every day so you won't forget me.
And while it's foolish of me, I continue to hope. I hope for so many things; that there will be a cure, that you have happier days, that you will remember I am not your boyfriend, but your husband. For better or for much worse, I promised my heart to you. I intend to stay with you, my dearest.
Love always, Arthur.Hoshiko2's cents: Recently I read an article in a sports magazine about the girlfriends and wives of retired NFL players who now have to watch the men they love deteriorate into dementia because of concussions they received during their time playing. I was inspired to write this. Those women are amazing to be so strong.