Prologue 1

Arthur was the kind of guy who was always stuck in a book. Most of his teachers from his grade school years only noticed his unruly blonde hair, striking green eyes and his hand in the air to answer any question that was asked. He didn't play with the other kids and during break, instead of risking his newest book's life, he would bring a book with blank pages of drawing paper. He would fill over ten pages in the book within the two thirty minute breaks a day. When the book was full, he would place it beside the others and let no one see. He didn't want anyone to look at his world filled with unicorns, fairies, pirates, leprechauns, ghosts, and magic. They wouldn't understand.

No one would understand that Arthur's world wasn't normal because of all the books he read, it wasn't normal because he wasn't normal. When Arthur reached high school, during the annoying gym period, all of the boys would talk about girls and what they do with them. All the while, Arthur would be looking at the other boys behinds and debating with himself what he liked. Firm butt he decided Monday. Not too hairy legs, just enough to tickle his own smooth legs when he wanted to be playful, he declared Tuesday. Wednesday, he swore off chest hair, Who would want to cuddle with black, curly hair in your nose, ears and mouth? Thursday, they played football and he was on the shirts team so he got to admire the skins side and picked out what he liked. Strong chest, definitely. Large biceps, eh, just enough to hold onto when dancing or...other things. Abs, with just a bit of fat to pinch. And of course, nice muscles to watch move. That day in gym, he got elbowed in the eye, but it was okay since the other team did it and the whole skins team leaned over him. Friday he worked on the face. Arthur preferred blue, but not too dark since it made that one kid look like one of the demons that Arthur's fairies fight. A nose that poked up a little at the end that was perfect for kissing. Light pink lips, lighter than his own because his always made it look like he was wearing his sister's lip gloss. Straight teeth was a must. A noticeable chin and jaw line, smooth hopefully, and an always happy face.

Though, that Friday after what he decided he wanted in a man, Arthur's life ended. He was walking home, wondering about how to tell his father that he was gay. His mother and siblings knew, even his little ten ear old brother knew, but his father didn't. Arthur never told him in case it was a phase in his life and he didn't want to worry his very stereotypical father. That Friday, Arthur was seventeen. That Friday in 1939, World War 2 started. That Friday, walking home from school, a bomb was dropped.

Arthur fell to the ground as the shock trembled the pavement beneath him, bits of buildings and stone pelted his skin and clothes, tearing his uniform to rags. Luckily, Arthur curled up on his knees and covered his head. His back and hands were torn into ground beef. The noise was like nothing he had ever heard. Like a million lions roaring at once in an empty room. Tears stung his eyes, he bit his lip to keep from yelling out. After what felt like forever, dust settled around Arthur and he looked up. It seemed he was just outside of the blast zone. Everything within a hundred yards in front of Arthur was rubble. Standing on shaky legs, Arthur measured the distance in his head. His house was in the blast zone. His stay-at-home mother, his younger twin brother and sister, his ten year old brother, his older brother who was visiting from Scotland, his father who just got off of work and had a new automobile. They were home, waiting for him to return so they could have their afternoon tea and talk about their day before they made dinner. This new information made Arthur physically stumble, then adrenaline took over and he took off into the smoking mess, counting the chimney stands that were left standing. One...two...three...four...five. He remembered telling some of the girls from school where he lived. He was always friendly to the girls because most of them found him being gay cute and they would meet up and he would even let some of them see his drawings. Arthur would wave at them while walking away, happily calling out, "Just the fifth house on the right and straight up the drive till the gate!" He loved saying that. Like it was out of the many books he read. But now it was horrible to even think about. When he reached his house plot, his tears were making tracks down his filthy cheeks. He sprinted up the drive and saw the shell of his fathers new auto. He ran past that and saw the remaining rubble of his house. Some of it was still on fire. Six different piles of ash were smoldering under the sun. Three larger piles were stretched out around two similar piles and a small one.

As the firemen came and put out the fire and treated Arthur for his back and hands, they told him he was lucky, but he would scar terribly. They didn't know how terrible it was. Arthur, at the age of seventeen, lost everything. His family, his house, his world, his magic and his strength to tell anyone anything. His family was among the few people he trusted to keep everything about him safe and secure. Now without them, Arthur had to carry on their lives along with his own, alone. That Friday, Arthur fell into a secretive life. He let nobody in, except for his cat so he wouldn't go insane, he built a wall around his heart, and he hated everything that had to do with the war.