The first thing Alfred saw in his new school was bullying. A group of teenage boys were shoving a small blonde around in a circle, laughing as he stumbled and tried to keep his balance. They called him names and pulled on his backpack, only to shove him almost to the ground before another boy would push him an opposite direction, jarring him off kilter all the more. Nearby people watched, but no one moved in to stop the harassment. Eventually the boy was shoved to the ground and the circle moved aside so he would land on his hands, slipping until he hit his chest. He didn't move to get up.

Alfred moved to his side and helped him up. The boy looked at him in fearful shock; a shame given how beautiful his green eyes were despite the thick eyebrows.

"Leave him," a boy called.

"Why?" Alfred asked.

"He's gay!" The boy was tall and tough looking. He sauntered up to Alfred with a sneer that didn't look right. It wasn't fierce, and instead of intimidating Alfred, he just wanted to retract from how odd the boy looked. "You're new, right?"

"Yeah."

"If you want to fit in, then you'll know who to hang with…" He shot a look at the boy. "And who not to."

Just then the blonde pushed Alfred away. He clutched his backpack, shooting Alfred once last hurried glance over his shoulder, and then vanished in the crowd of students. Alfred watched him go, his heart weighing heavy in his chest. He wanted to fit in. He was new. He couldn't start with a bad reputation.

So he fit in. He joined the weight training club, bought the newest fashions, and hung out with the "cool" kids and did the "cool" activities. His parents warned him of his grades, but he was able to keep on top of most of his homework. By next year he could even make it onto the Varsity football team.

But there was one thing he just could not do. He couldn't sit out while that "gay" boy was picked on. Alfred had come to learn his name was Arthur Kirkland and he was English. That was why he had such a large target on his back. Between his European mannerisms and English accent, well anyone uncultured would think him strange indeed.

Without asking him, everyone judged him.

Alfred would see him get shoved to the ground or against lockers, called ugly names, and chased away from wherever he was sitting. It made no sense. Had he hurt someone? Was he a person to hate just because of who he was? Alfred knew nothing of him, and it seemed the majority of the student body didn't either given his quiet and reserved nature. The few friends he did have were fiercely protective of him, shutting Alfred out of any questions he had of the boy. When asking around, Alfred learned that most students knew Arthur to be a relatively good guy, but they just didn't know him.

No one helped him because they waited for someone else to step in. They were all afraid.

Winter break had finally ended. Alfred was in class, boasting about his recent snowboarding adventure he had been on with his family. They had traveled all the way to Canada to meet his cousin and spend the break in a log cabin. The girls listened with rapt attention while the boys watched proudly as if they had been the ones to go, and not Alfred.

Arthur quietly slipped into the room, heading right for his seat with his books clutched to his chest like always. That must have been someone's cue to stick a leg out and trip him. He fell fast, hurdling towards the ground, and just as he was about to hit his jaw on the linoleum, an arm shot out and grabbed him. The room was silent, a terse hush falling over the students.

"Jones!" snapped a boy sitting on his desk. "What're you doing?"

Alfred looked over the rim of his glasses, a dark glare muddling his blue eyes. "What everyone else is waiting for- someone to stand up against people like you."

"I thought you knew who to hang with and who not to," the boy said, his voice lowering as if threatening.

"I do," Alfred replied firmly. "What do you have against others that're different from you? Arthur is a nice guy, but all you see are his differences. How'd you feel if I did the same back to you?"

"You must be a homo too!" a girl shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Alfred.

Alfred smirked. "So what if I am? That's not an insult. Stop trying to play it off like it is one. We both know I could kick all of your asses if you tried anything."

Through-out all of this, Alfred held Arthur in his arms.

A simple letter was left in Alfred's locker. It told him to go to the bleachers on the football field after school. At the bottom were two initials, AK, written in fancy cursive writing. Alfred knew, and smiled at what could happen next.

The wind ruffled Alfred's hair as he took a seat on the cold bleachers. While the winter break had ended, the season was still strong. A light dusting of snow was scheduled to hit the town in a few hours. Arthur was silent, staring off at the sky, so Alfred decided he would too. The sunset bathed them both in warm hues of orange and red, the sun setting just behind the school roof. After a time, Alfred could feel Arthur staring at him, so he turned to smile at him. Arthur blushed, looking at his lap.

"Are you gay?" Alfred asked after a moment.

Arthur didn't tense up, didn't become flustered, and he didn't run away. Instead, he calmly lifted his head and looked Alfred in the eyes. "Yes. You're the first person to ask me."

Alfred breathed out a laugh. "I figured as much. It's not fair to judge someone."

"You sound like someone who knows from experience."

Alfred hesitated, but then said, "Yes. I was bullied at my old school too, but no one saved me. I ran away."

"Are you gay?" Arthur asked at length.

"Yes," Alfred replied in a tone Arthur had never heard from him before. "But if you don't want the guys to think so, you get super tough. Then no one will think twice about wantin' to pick fun at you."

Arthur chuckled. "I guess I'm not the tough type."

"Naw, I think you can be. Just gotta stand up for yourself." Alfred then frowned. "No, wait… Sometimes, that's not the best thing to say. Sometimes, when you feel you can't, it's best to stand up for someone else. So then you can find reasons to stand up for yourself, because if you believe in that person, well, you may just find reasons to believe in yourself too."

Arthur stared at him, and then back out at the fading sunset. It was growing colder and he shivered slightly. He drew his jacket in closer to him. The wind blew again, going through both of their bodies, taking the stress with it.

He was relieved, to say the least. To be able to talk so freely with another person was amazing. Arthur ran a hand through his hair and smiled. He closed his eyes, pretending to not notice Alfred's obvious gaze. To feel relief and admiring eyes on him all at once was something all together new and exciting.

"Will you go to the Sweethearts Dance with me?" one asked.

"Yes," the other replied.

Alfred was waiting outside the gym for Arthur the night of the dance. The music behind him pulsated under his feet, drifting off into the air. Around him, other students came in droves, all dressed up for the night. The rules had stated that men wear tuxedos and for women to wear respectable dresses. For the underclassmen, this was their Prom.

Alfred's mother had bought him a corsage, took photographs, and wished him luck with his date. Alfred brought Arthur flowers (roses), and didn't mind one bit as he got admiring looks from other girls, jealous that such a man had brought flowers that weren't intended for them.

Despite his tanked social standing, Alfred was still relatively popular. Girls complimented him on his attire, while other boys congratulated him on landing a date, not minding one bit it was with another man. Nevertheless, it was only a matter of time before bullies made their voices heard.

"Waiting for your princess? Gonna marry? Kiss kiss, ya pillow biter!"

Alfred ignored them for the most part, but he chased them when one snatched up his bouquet and vanished around the corner of the gym. The music faded and the cold snap crowded his ears.

When he turned the corner, he was met with a metal pole to his stomach. He keeled over, gasping in pain, and finally falling to his knees. Laughter drifted down from above him. Someone punched his face. Alfred was still reeling from the first blow, so he fell over easily. That was enough for others to jump him.

Alfred tried to fight, but when he was outnumbered, all he could do was curl in on himself and cry for help. But no one would come. No one had seen him run off, and the music drowned out any of the sounds. He was going to die.

A click of a knife and a shout to end it, and Alfred waited with baited breath.

But then there was a yelp and a cry and the sound of the metal pole hitting the wall. Alfred lifted his face. Arthur had the pole in his hand and his green eyes were wild with venom. He must have wrangled it free from one of the bullies and was now flailing it around to fight off the attackers. He had a cell phone in one hand and the bat in the other.

The bullies took off running, but didn't get far as two police cars pulled into the parking lot. In the distance were the sounds of sirens; the ambulance.

Arthur fell to his knees, dropping the pipe and his mobile. He started to lift Alfred's head when he told him to stop.

"My back… I think… I think they broke it… Ah God…"

Arthur sniffled and wiped at his face. "You stupid idiot… Why did you…?"

"They stole your flowers."

Arthur breathed a laugh and shook his head. He now wiped at Alfred's face, trying to erase those bruises and those cuts and stop his bleeding, or was he crying? Oh, it all melted together. "They almost stole my date for good."

"You saved me," Alfred whispered, his eyes coming in and out of focus.

"Yes… Well… Seems you were right… About everything…" Arthur put his hand atop Alfred's and smiled. "But you're still an idiot."

"Guess this means… the dance is out, huh?"

"I should say so."

"Gotta give ya raincheck, huh?"

"Yes," Arthur nodded, still crying, but smiling. "Yes, it's a date."

Hoshiko2's cents: Hate to end it there, but I really wanted to give it that open ending I just love to make you all go through. Heh heh. (No, I'm not continuing this story either. Sorry.)

This one was rather personal to me. I was beaten for a hate crime too with a metal pole, but my brother was able to step in and save me, so I wasn't seriously hurt like Alfred was. I was never able to press charges because I didn't know who those stupid fucks were and there was no way to identify them.

I know it's not really fitting for Valentine's Day, but hey, not everyone has the best of days on this day.