This was originally going to be a canonverse story but then I realised that it wouldn't really make too much sense, considering. So here we go.

(Also, this has very little to do with Alfred except he's the POV character.)

Alfred always looked forward to his birthdays. The presents, the cake, the barbecue, the people. But the best thing, he always felt, were the fireworks. He loved to watch the inky sky light up with colours. Red, white and blue – and some were green, too. At the end of the show, his parents always made sure to arrange them into a shape, usually dependent on what he had been obsessed with over the last few months. The pops and crackles always made him grin like a loon.

Nothing could spoil his big day.

Except for his best friend not turning up.

It was always some excuse with Arthur. I'm not feeling well. I sprained my ankle – it's pretty bad. I got caught in traffic. There's a leak in my bedroom and all my clothes are ruined. My parents booked flights to England and I won't be in the country.

Sorry, Al.

The excuses had been piling up and Alfred had begun to suspect that he just didn't want to come to the party. Granted, he knew Arthur wasn't fond of loud people (and Alfred was loud at the best of times), but it was his birthday! And Alfred turned up to Arthur's quieter affairs. Why couldn't Arthur turn up to his?

Last year, Arthur had had a really good reason not to be there. For weeks, he had been mentioning how his cousins were telling him about his grandmother's seemingly failing health. The poor guy had been really down about it and, when she ended up in hospital, the Brits had taken off for London. Thankfully, she had recovered and Arthur had returned a little subdued but willing to take part in the rest of Alfred's summer shenanigans.

Of course, to make up for every absence, Arthur always got him the best presents. But, though he loved each of them and kept them safe, Alfred couldn't help selfishly wanting him at the parties, too. He always watched the door in case he would surprise everyone and turn up.

And now it was his eighteenth birthday. After this, they'd be off to college and he may not be able to see Arthur as much: they'd both be busy. So, this year, he was determined to get Arthur to his party – no more excuses.

"Sorry, Al," sighed Arthur when Alfred turned up on his doorstep three weeks before his birthday.

"What?! Aw, c'mon, Art! What is it this time?" Alfred made sure to whine as annoyingly as possible; that usually made Arthur change his mind. "There's plenty of time to make sure you're ready!"

"Yeah, well." Arthur dragged a hand through his hair, looking stressed. "My gran's not well again. This time they think she might die."

"Oh." Alfred felt horrible as he spotted the distressed look on Arthur's face.

"We're going over on the day of graduation," Arthur explained, staring at his feet. "I don't know when we'll be back."

"I'm sorry, Artie," sighed Alfred. "I didn't..." Although Arthur didn't tend to like people touching him, Alfred reached out and pulled him into a hug. Wordlessly, Arthur returned it. "It's cool. Just let me know when you're home, 'kay?"

"I will. I promise."

Three days before his birthday, however, Alfred was furious and insistently ringing the doorbell of Arthur's house.

He had been patient for the last couple of weeks once Arthur had been ushered away after getting his diploma. Every day he would message his friend to see if he was okay and if he was coming home. Each time the reply would be 'no'. According to Arthur, his grandmother got worse, died and then they had to have a funeral.

Sorry, Al.

By the time July had arrived, Arthur's parents were beginning to look into flights back but both Arthur and Alfred presumed it would be after the party by the time he arrived back in town. Upset, Alfred had headed over to Matthew's party. It had been a relatively quiet party in comparison to Alfred's shindigs. All their friends were there (since both boys knew the same people) and he had been chatting enthusiastically with Kiku when Francis had made his presence noticed.

"Bon soir, Alfred. Are you looking forward to your own birthday?"

"Yeah, man! I always look forward to my birthday! Don't you?"

"Mm," Francis had agreed, sipping at what looked like wine. Obviously, the teenager had swiped a bottle from his parents' collection. "I take it Arthur will be at your party, then? I haven't seen him here."

"Nah, dude, he's still in London."

"Quoi?" Francis blinked. "But I saw him this morning. He and his parents were grocery shopping."

Alfred had stared in disbelief. "Huh? But... he said..."

"Perhaps he wants to surprise you?" suggested Francis, though he looked uncomfortable and a little guilty.

Instead of listening to him, Alfred had whipped out his phone and shot off a quick text. R u sure ur not comin to my party? He had retreated to a corner and began to have a silent conversation with his absent friend, his mood deteriorating as he read.

What? No. My parents have booked tickets for the 5th. Sorry, Al.

Just thought i'd check – where r u?

London.

Yeah, where?

A hotel. What's with the questions?

What's with u avoidin em?

I'm not! I just don't understand why you're only asking me /now/?

Cause I wanna know!

Look, it's late. I'm going to bed now. Night. I'll see you in a few days.

Arthur would usually answer his texts with proper information: he always said that it was easier than dealing with Alfred's constant questioning. So Alfred knew something was wrong and, after apologising to Matthew (a brief shout of "Sorry, dude!"), he had taken off and made his way to the Kirklands. There, he had found the porch light on and he had known there was someone at home.

And, sure enough, after ringing the bell repeatedly, the door was wrenched open. "Do you mi-?" Arthur stopped and stared, wide-eyed. "A-Alfred... I-"

"What the fuck?!" snapped Alfred, his fury growing. "Franny said he saw you this morning! Do you just not wanna come to my party? Do I bore ya or something?!"

"No! That's not it! It's not like that, I swear!"

"Oh, yeah? Then what's with all the excuses?" At Arthur's grimace, Alfred's eyes narrowed further. "They were all excuses?"

"Th-Tha- No! They weren't!" Arthur was looking quite upset by now, the way he usually did when there was something embarrassing he had to tell people.

But Alfred was too enraged to care about Arthur's problems.

"I bet your grandma's still alive. Actually, I bet you never had one to begin with!"

That made Arthur's eyes widen further. They began to water but Alfred didn't apologise, only glaring at him. When Arthur spoke, his lip trembled a little. "How could you-? That's not true-" His voice cracked and he stopped.

"If you didn't want to come, you shoulda just said!" Alfred snapped. "You don't need to come to my party: I only invite friends." He spun around and stormed off.

"Wait! Al! No, listen to me!" Arthur called but Alfred ignored him and carried on, gritting his teeth and holding back tears of his own.

Sorry, Al.

I'm sorry, Al.

Please text back. Or answer my calls. I need to talk to you.

Please, Al – I'm sorry.

Although Alfred had been rather down in the days following the confrontation, he pushed that aside to have fun on his birthday. He adored his presents and loved the food prepared for breakfast and lunch. His parents made sure to entertain him as he practically bounced around the house. When it finally came time for the guests to arrive, Alfred was the one answering the door, jumping up and down when he spotted each person.

Most of his guests had arrived by the time his dad began to get the burgers cooking. His mother was busy preparing drinks for people so Alfred was left to chatter to his friends with no interruption. Showing Matthew and Kiku some of his new games, his mood was brought down by a comment from Matthew.

"So Arthur's really not coming? I thought Francis had seen him a few days ago."

Alfred's jaw clenched and he shook his head. "Nah. He's too busy or something."

Hearing the venom in his voice, Matthew bit his lip. "Oh. Did you two...?"

"Yeah. We're not talking."

"What happened?" asked Kiku, looking concerned. "It has been a while since you two fought."

"I don-" The doorbell ringing cut him off and he brightened. "Someone else!" he cried, handing Matthew his glass. "Be right back!" And, with that, he rushed off, leaving an exasperated Matthew and a bemused Kiku in his wake.

Wondering who it could be, Alfred wrenched open the door with a grin – which abruptly dropped just as much as his jaw did. He stared at the fidgeting teenager on his doorstep, his hands held behind his back. Instead of looking at Alfred, he was staring at his shoes, kicking at the wooden porch floor.

"Hey," said Arthur.

"You- Why are you here?" Alfred asked, confused.

"I figured... I thought... Well, um, I was hoping that me turning up to your party would be a better apology than messages."

Despite the hurt he had felt over the last few days, Alfred found himself ecstatic. His best friend at his birthday party? What a great present! However, just to make sure Arthur knew it wasn't cool to lie to him like that, he narrowed his eyes. "Hm. Didja bring a present? You only get to come in if you got me a present."

With a small, sad smile, Arthur brought his hands around and revealed that he was holding a large parcel. It was neatly wrapped with paper which had little Captain America shields decorating it. A bow had been tied around it, the ribbon a mixture of red white and blue. Alfred laughed when he saw it.

"Man, every time you give me a present, I swear the paper's meant to be the real one!"

His reaction seemed to cause Arthur to relax and he smiled a little wider. "Of course it is. Why on Earth would I give you a decent present?" he teased.

Laughing, Alfred pulled Arthur in and dragged him into the living room. "Hey, everyone! Artie's here!"

Those that had already gathered turned in surprise. Beside him, Arthur squirmed under their incredulous gaze. Alfred ignored them and placed Arthur's present beside the others: he would open them that night after the place had been cleared of stragglers.

"Mon Dieu," said Francis, filling the silence. "Isn't this a novelty? Is that gift the present or are you?"

Arthur turned red at that but Alfred laughed as he almost skipped back to his side. "Shut it!" the Brit told Francis.

"Perhaps you should have tied a bow around your neck," Francis suggested as the others giggled and chuckled.

"Maybe you should have so I could strangle you with it. Keep out of it, Francis."

"How rude! How mean!" exclaimed Francis, dramatically, though his grinning ruined the effect.

Alfred laughed at that again, happier than he had been in weeks. He dutifully held Arthur back from punching Francis for annoying him, marvelling at how much livelier the place seemed with him there. "This is awesome! It's gonna be great! Artie, we'll be eating burgers in a minute – I know they're your favourite!"

Snorting, Arthur shook Alfred off. "Hardly."

"Aw, c'mon. Admit it. You love – love – burgers."

"I do not. And never to the extent of your relationship with them." Arthur smirked at him and Alfred gasped as dramatically as Francis had been acting.

"But everyone has'ta love burgers on my birthday!"

"I wasn't aware of this rule. Maybe you should've written it on the invitation."

"What invitation? It was a Facebook event, like always."

With a teasing grin, Arthur put his hands on his hips. "Well, maybe that's why-" Suddenly, his smile faded and his arms dropped as he deflated. Alfred tilted his head but Arthur shook his head and gave him a weak smile. "Never mind."

Before Alfred could ask him what was wrong (and pester him until he spilled it) his dad stepped into the room. "Grub's up!" he called. Exclamations of varying levels of joy passed through the room and the mass of people began to shift towards the garden. Alfred hovered on the edge of asking Arthur what was wrong and getting food.

Arthur decided for him. Smiling, he grabbed Alfred's arm and dragged him to the door. "Come on. I'm hungry and burgers will just have to do."

"Fireworks time!" yelled Alfred, flinging his arms in the air. Those that had gathered in the living room glanced around and began to make their way to the door, well-acquainted with the order of events at Alfred's parties. The only person not to move was Arthur. Rushing over to him, Alfred grabbed his arm and began to pull him over to the door. "C'mon! You can't miss this."

"I- Wait, I don't-"

Pouting, Alfred glanced at him and used his puppy dog eyes to their full effect. "You don't wanna come outside? But this is the best part!"

His friend looked hunted, as if he was cornered and had to choose between the lesser of two evils. It seemed, however, that his whining had worked since Arthur finally sagged and sighed. "All right, all right. I'm coming."

"Yay!" cried Alfred and dragged the boy outside. There, the gathered guests cheered to see Alfred and he let go of Arthur's arm, confident Arthur would stay beside him. As was their custom, a firework suddenly whistled through the air, up and up, before exploding with a bang and a sizzle. Alfred laughed loudly before falling silent like the rest of the guests.

"Okay, everyone!" shouted Mrs. Jones. "We have sparklers and Catherine Wheels and other fun things for you all to take part in. But we're gonna start this celebration of freedom and our son coming into this world with a proper ol' rocket. So, happy birthday, darling, and Happy Independence Day to everyone else!"

With that, more fireworks were launched into the sky. Red, white and blue painted the inky sky. Golden sparkles began to wave through the air as, one by one, Alfred's friends wrote their names and rude words in the air. Kiku even drew what appeared to be a picture of Totoro. When a green firework exploded and drowned out the rest of the colours, Alfred turned to Arthur to ask if he wanted a sparkler, only to find the Brit had disappeared into the ether.

Frowning, he glanced around and, seeing Francis close, he tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey. Where's Artie?"

"Huh?" Francis asked, frowning and looking around. "I don't see him. Did he even come out here? He seemed content with the cup of tea your mother made for him."

Confused, Alfred turned and re-entered the house. He could miss a few fireworks: his parents always made sure he was present before the grand finale. So he made his way to the living room. However, he was stopped short when he noticed the basement door had been left ajar. They always closed that door for parties and warned any newcomers not to go down there in case the old, rickety stairs his father had yet to fix collapsed.

Brow furrowed, he pushed the door open fully and found that, whoever it was, hadn't turned on the light. He remedied that and descended in the dimness, listening to the sounds of the fireworks. Whatever he had been expecting when he reached the bottom was not what he saw when he stepped onto the stone floor. Huddled in the corner, away from the washing machine and dryer and the assorted items in boxes, was Arthur. He had his knees pulled to his chest and his hands over his ears, pressed hard against the sides of his head. His eyes were screwed shut. As Alfred carefully moved towards him, he could see that the boy was shaking.

He crouched in front of Arthur before he gently tapped his elbow. The poor teenager jolted upright, eyes shooting open. Alfred could see them shining even in the poor light, tears clearly visible. Arthur gasped as he spotted the birthday boy. Hesitantly, he brought his hands from his ears so he could speak to Alfred. "A-Al... What are you-?" There was a bang above them and Arthur flinched, his eyes closing as he took a shuddering breath. "Sh-Shouldn't you be watching the... them?" he asked as another firework whistled into a heart-stopping crack.

"Well... Yeah," Alfred admitted. "But I wanted you there, y'know. To watch them with me. So why are you down here? What's up?"

"It's... Just-" Once again, Arthur flinched as another firework exploded.

Frowning, Alfred looked upwards as if he could see the colours fading into black. Then he looked back at the cowering Arthur with wide, disbelieving eyes. "Is it-? Are you- Are you scared of the fireworks?" Arthur whimpered and nodded, not looking at Alfred. Briefly, Alfred wanted to laugh – it was such a strange thing to be scared of – but, seeing Arthur's trembling form, he sighed instead. "Is that why you never came to my parties?"

Arthur nodded. "Sorry, Al," he said. "When we met, I didn't want to tell anyone: it's embarrassing and I was so sure people would make fun of me. And, well, it just got harder and harder to tell you, the longer we were friends and the more lies I told." Another firework sounded above them and Arthur jumped and tried to draw his legs closer to him than they already were. "You should go back upstairs, though, and enjoy your birthday."

Biting his lip, Alfred looked between Arthur and the stairs. He sighed once again and pulled Arthur into an awkward hug. With Arthur's hands pinned to his side, he merely stiffened while Alfred squeezed him, swaying on his toes as he tried to prevent himself falling over. "You should've just told me. I won't make you come to my parties any more, all right?"

"All right," mumbled Arthur, relaxing slightly only to tense at another bang from above.

A sudden realisation had Alfred pulling back and toppling over. Sprawled in front of Arthur, he stared at him with wide eyes. "Was your grandma a lie, too?"

Shaking his head, Arthur stared at the floor. "She really did die. We just came back last week."

"God, I'm so sorry," Alfred breathed, referring to what he had said at Arthur's house.

"It's not your fault," Arthur assured him, understanding, and glanced up at him with a weak smile. "Don't worry about it." He flinched at the sound of another firework.

Alfred scrambled around so that he could sit next to him. "So. Is there a reason you're scared of fireworks?"

"Oh, um. I don't actually remember this but there was an accident with a firework when I was three. Apparently, my family was having a big Bonfire Night do and one of them fell over and almost hit me. I did get hit by a spark, though." Arthur chuckled a little. "According to my mum, she poured a bucket of water over me: they were supposed to be for sparklers but it was lucky we had it. According to the doctor at the hospital, it stopped me from burning too badly. Didn't stop me from being soaked and crying. Obviously it had frightened me and I just didn't get over it or something."

"What do you do on July 4th, then? And New Year's?"

"I hide and turn up the telly – on a channel without the fireworks, of course."

"Oh."

They sat in comfortable silence for a few seconds before another firework startled Arthur. He buried his head in his knees. Alfred nudged him to try to tell him that he was there for him. When another firework exploded, Arthur turned his face to hide in Alfred's shoulder.

"It'll be over soon," Alfred told Arthur as he wrapped an arm around his shoulders and stared at the ceiling.

"You should go back up, then," Arthur replied.

"No, it's-"

"Don't your parents have a fancy firework at the end of the display?"

Alfred grimaced. "Yeah. And they don't do it unless I'm there. I missed it once when I was little and cried for hours."

"Then go up. I'll be fine without you."

At that moment he jolted as another firework exploded. Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Shut it and just get up there so it'll finish."

Shaking his head, Alfred stood. "All right. I'll come get you when it's over."

"Okay."

With a parting ruffle of Arthur's hair (and the Brit shoving his hand away, as usual), Alfred headed to the stairs. He was stopped as Arthur called out to him and he turned, worried that Arthur was too scared to be alone. After all, Alfred wouldn't have let Arthur leave if it had been reversed. But Arthur was stubborn and if his parents refused to do the finale, Arthur's fear would be common knowledge... What was he to do?

However, as Alfred struggled with his own decision, Arthur merely smiled at him. "Sorry, Al," he said. "I've ruined your birthday."

"Don't be stupid," Alfred replied, grinning at Arthur's answering scowl. "And... Sorry, Art. I'll be back soon and we can have more fun without any of-" Another bang sounded overhead and Arthur flinched. "That," Alfred finished.

"All right. But, before you go..." Arthur smiled again. "Happy birthday, Al."

Pyrotechnophobia is a fear of fireworks, according to Google. My mum has it and she sits on the couch with the telly up LOUD and jumps every time she hears one.

I once (when I was three or something, I don't remember this) pulled a mug/cup of tea on myself while trying to help my gran take things through to people. My gran threw cold water over me instantly and I was taken to the hospital where they said it was a lucky thing she had because I wasn't going to have a burn/scald scar and I was perfectly fine. Except, you know, the cold water upset me enough to cry.

The thing about the spark happened to me, too. It wasn't as bad as I've written it was for Arthur but it gave me and my friend enough of a fright to step back a little more...

I was gonna continue this a little bit to say that Alfred ended up buying Arthur noise-cancelling headphones for his Christmas so he could come to his parties without having to huddle in the basement. But then it seemed... urgh. So I left it here. (Arthur never got them before because he just tended to avoid places he knew fireworks would be and hoped.)