Alfred stared at the atrocity before him. The poor boy had always wanted to build a snowman and had tried doing so, but it ended up collapsing countless times and looking disfigured all the while. He didn't understand what could be so hard! He had seen cartoon characters build snowmen with ease and had longed to do the same. The sixteen year old boy’s hands were freezing and had tints of icy blue from his constant shoveling of snow in a pile, attempting to form a sphere. A disappointed sigh escaped his lips as he decided that he had done enough for today. He hung his head as he made his way out of the park and across the street to his home. The warm winter boots Alfred wore thumped against the tile floors of his house as his mother greeted …show more content…
“Did you manage to build a snowman this time?” she replied, walking towards him and helping him remove his oversized coat.
“No… I got really cold and I wanted to get inside before I turned into a block of ice.” he sighed disappointingly, “But I’m gonna try again tomorrow! A hero never gives
…show more content…
His heart was racing. His mind repeating the same message, “Arthur is here.” Alfred practically flew out the door of his house, not hearing his mother’s yelling. He felt not the cold against his cheeks or the wind blowing through the thin shirt he wore. He arrived at the steps of the house next to his own. Taking a deep breath, Alfred felt his hand knock against the hard wooden door.
The door made a creak as it opened to reveal a blonde boy, with bright green eyes.
“A-Arthur?” Alfred's voice cracked and tears filled his eyes, “Arthur? Is that you? Is it really you?” He ran up and hugged the boy, never wants to let go. This was his love, his soulmate; he couldn't let him go. Happiness filled his heart; they were going to be together again. They were going to be happy.
“I'm not Arthur.” the boy said. Alfred looked up at him to see that… he wasn't a boy at all. The man standing at the doorway looked down at Alfred. Sadness and pity filled the man’s eyes, and if one looked close enough, there was a hint of anger. He wasn't blonde; his head was covered in a red mess of hair, and he was starting to grow a beard. But the green eyes stayed. Oh those beautiful eyes; Alfred loved them.
The man spoke once more. “I'm his