It happened again. He walked into class with bruises painted on his skin. It was starting to annoy me how this image was becoming familiar to me. We weren't friends, per say, or close at all. He didn't stand out in the halls or anything, but I always noticed the invisible boy. Arthur would shuffled into school with his head hung down. Most students who noticed didn't ask and those teachers who questioned got turned away.
My pupils followed Alfred as he made his way to said Brit. They were a famous couple in the school considering they were the All-Star Player and the All-Star Student. From my observations, however, they don't seem to be in the happy-go-lucky relationships everyone talks about. He grabbed Arthur's hand and dragged the young man through the halls. The World's Most Perfect Couple, I sarcastically thought as I rolled my eyes. I felt overprotective towards Arthur. It ruined me to see him so broken.

Lunch was more interesting than usual. I sat with my usual group, Francis, Antonio, Elizabeta and Roderich. From the corner of my eye, I saw the two arguing in the side lines. It was subtle and presumably quiet (as no one note what was happening), but they were bickering about something. Once again, Alfred had dragged him off somewhere. Their friends hardly cared for their absence. I turned my attention back to my own companions. I had no place to intrude in whatever was happening between the two.

Shit. I should not have come here; I've seen too much. I clumsily spilled orange juice all over my shirt. I was only lucky that Roderich, being the perfectionist he is, had one spare for me to change into. I innocently made my way to the bathroom to clean myself up only to be greeted with the image of Alfred hitting Arthur. The All-Star Jock glared at me and slapped his boyfriend one more time before storming out, claiming that if I told anyone then I'd regret every moment of it. Arthur just stood in his place and locked his view on the floor. He was trembling violently, rubbing desperately at his eyes. He seemed disturbingly used to this.
Arthur Kirkland. His sandy-blonde hair fell softly on his forehead and his lime eyes lacked the sparkle of life. They were constantly puffy and his nose was permanently read - all of these were probably from crying. I stood awkwardly and stared at the boy trying to hold himself together in front of me. After a few seconds, I walked up to him and placed a hand softly on his shoulder. That was the first formal interaction I had with him, which I found gravely disappointing. If I were to have it any other way, it were be a small conversation in the hallway, not trying to help him get over his boyfriend abusing him.
"Dude, are you okay?" I awkwardly asked. I mentally facepalmed. Of course he wasn't okay, Gilbert, you idiot. He nodded gently and held his lip between his teeth. He moved away from me to the sink to splash water onto his face. I decided to stay longer to see if he needed anything. He just gripped the edges of the rim. He held his breath desperately the supress the violent shaking in his breath. I wasn't good at social interactions anymore, so I had no idea what to say. Everyone has their own preferences: some like to be left alone, some like to be around friends. It's different. Always different. I would know.
We stared at each other from the mirror. He seemed to calm down slightly, however, his cheek was still a bright red. He took a deep breath in a carved a smile into his face. The corners twitched and I could practically feel the amount of pain he was harbouring inside of him. He was going to push me away, tell me some bullshit. I was certain because that's what I do.
His lips parted, but before he could utter a word, I strode towards him and enveloped him into a hug, all words dissipate into nothingness. I felt him tremble in my arms before he fell limp and allowed all his feelings to pour out.
This was the first time I met Arthur Kirkland, and although it wasn't the best meetings in the history of meetings, I don't regret it.

The next few days were dull. It was the same boring school, same boring lessons, same boring lunch, same boring life. I started to wonder when everything got so... Boring. It wasn't like this all the time for me. I used to live happily and awesomely, but that's all in the past. I didn't see much of Arthur (Alfred was probably trying to avoid me considering I saw too much.) It made me feel great unease for the poor Brit - I was correct to worry about him in the first place.

For some reason, God placed upon me the curse of bad timing. I had just gotten out of detention and I felt like putting nicotine into my system before returning home. The only place without cameras in our school is at the back (which is usually closed off, but the fence is easy to jump on both sides.) Before I turned the corner, I had heard something crash into the bins. I peeked to see what happened, but my ninja skills aren't sharp. Alfred, who was apparently an Eagle (ironically), spotted me almost instantly. He cussed me out, claiming that I had no right to be there. He was about to pummel me, but Arthur stopped him and took the beating. I, being the wimp I am, just stood and watched. My whole body was tensed - I couldn't move. My dad was right, I was a wimp. The abusive scheißekopf stormed off after threatening me once again. Arthur was curled up on the floor. Once Alfred was out of eye and ear shot, I rushed to his aid once again.
"We need to stop meeting like this," I chuckled softly. Wrong time to joke around, Gilbert. Dummkopf. I supported him against the wall and inspected his wounds. Alfred beat him, but he didn't break anything. Smart, kind of. There would be bruising, obviously, and his lip was cut. His nose was avoided (luckily) and whispers blew through the wind as I crouched helplessly. He shaky hand covered my own that rested upon my knee; his emerald orbs smiled up weakly at me. "How are you so calm?" I wondered silently, but his ears picked it up.
"I'm used to it."

The Kirklands were out at work. He was fairly vague about his parents, but I didn't press on it. He's been through enough today. His house was fairly... Well, messy would be an understatement. His living room probably had more plates than his kitchen. Clothes were scattered all long the floor and there were weird food stains that, well, stained the carpet. Carrying him through the disorganized dump was harder than expected as all I had to rely on was his small directions. I had half-expected that the blonde's room would be the same as the others, but to my surprise, it was incredibly clean. It happened to shine, in fact. Everything had their place, everything was neat - hell - from what I could see through the small crack in his wardrobe, even his clothes were colour-coordinated.

I lay him down gently and tried to make sure that he made no sudden jerks that would give him more unnecessary pain. Although his body was stuff and few bones were probably bruised, the sparkle in his eyes never gave out, which surprised me. Alfred was one of the strongest people in the school, that beating would've hurt a lot. What is Arthur doing playing around with so much fire?
"I know what your thinking," he suddenly said, breaking the silence and pulling me from my thoughts. "What am I doing with an asshole like him?"
I scoffed and nodded. Both Arthur and Alfred had a reputation at the school. No one seemed to even consider that their famed relationship was like this. Hell, even Francis, the year's romantic (and manwhore) didn't suspect this. Sure, bondage was mentioned a couple times, but this was far worse then it.
"He didn't used to be like this, you know," he continued softly. The light in his gems seemed to fade a little. "Back when we were younger, he was better - kinder. But, you know... People change."
Yeah, people change.

We had stopped meeting so awkwardly. During lunch, when his oh-so-perfect boyfriend was out at practice, he would sit by our table and read, although, he would occasionally argue with Francis. A lot. Most of the time. Okay, he doesn't read at all, but that's besides the point. In an aggressive sort of way, he seemed happier; and in a sort of way I seemed happier as well... That was, until that night.

"Gilbert,"

Arthur had called me at 3 in the morning, his voice was hushed and rattled. He was crying. He sniffed and tried to hold back his tears. There was hardly any speaking on his end of the line. In the background was mostly static, sobbing and... Snoring?

"Gilbert, help me." he whispered. "Gilbert, I don't have much time."
What's happening?

"I-It's Alfred... He... He's here. In bed. With me."
What the fuck does that mean? Shit.

"Gilbert, I don't have much time-"

"Arthur, what the fuck do you think your doing?"

"Nothing, Alfred, just please, go back to sleep."

"It's probably that Gilbert dick, isn't it? Isn't it?!"

"Alfred, calm down-"

"How many times do I have to tell you-"

"Alfred-"

"You're mine."

Blank Line.