Alistair and Arthur

         Alistair waited while the wind chilled him. He was lamenting the choice of meeting in a park when he saw the distant figure of Arthur and gave a wave. His friend and ex-lover did not wave back, so he waited more until Arthur's chubby frame was next to him.

         "Hullo," Alistair said, and hugged him. "I've missed you." He didn't ask what was wrong yet.

         "I've missed you too. How's Alice?," Arthur asked. Alistair always loved how deep his voice was.

         "Great." He knew it was an awkward reply. Arthur simply nodded, so Alistair continued.

         "What's all this about, then?" Arthur looked into his eyes.

         "I'm going to New York. I won't see you much." Alistair stared. His friend had grown up here. He'd never wanted to leave.

         "Why?" he asked, somewhat stupidly.

         "I need more," Arthur said. The cold nipped Alistair's cheeks.

         "What's that supposed to mean? You're not fooling me. I know what you're up to. You're on the bottle again, aren't you?"

         "No, I swear." He looked down.

         "There's no other reason for this rubbish. What then?" Arthur stood.

         "I'm lonely, and I want a new life where people like me." Alistair joined him, and patted Arthur's shoulder.

         "Look, mate, I know times get rough, and I'm so sorry about everything. But moving doesn't make things better. It just takes your problems where you haven't got people who love you."

         "Nobody does."

         "I do. Your brother does. You can stay with me and Alice. Don't go. I'd miss you." Arthur thought, his wild black hair blowing around, before nodding. He pouted pathetically. Alistair smiled, patted his back, and said,

         "Come on. We'll grab a cuppa." The two men walked through the sleet, against the wind.