I hope you like this one. Currently, I have no real direction for this other than I might want to bring other characters into it. As it is, I'm going to see what happens.

I'm not too clued up on the US and its suburbs or city blocks of flats and stuff. So the descriptions are from films/TV and guesswork.

Alfred grew up an only child, living with his parents in a comfortable environment in a suburb. He was a cute little boy in everyone's eyes; he was angelic to most people. His blonde hair with the constant cowlick and the brilliant, sparkling blue eyes drew people in. With a lisp and a matter-of-fact way of speaking, he made the adults melt.

He was also popular with the local kids. They would play ball and other games in their back yards. Talking in their own strange language, the adults would watch and laugh.

One year, during the summer, the kids Alfred played with jetted off on holiday. He felt rather lonely on his own and so he would watch the cars go by in the front yard. One day whilst he was doing this, he spotted a removal truck pulling up in front of the house next door: it had been empty for as long as he could remember. Curiously, he watched as a car drew up behind it and a man and woman got out. They both had dark hair and seemed happy to be out of the car. They stretched and laughed before calling on someone else. The door at the back opened and a boy jumped out.

He looked like he was a few years older than Alfred, a bored expression on his face. His blonde hair was short and messy and he was wearing a plain white t-shirt with a pair of smart black trousers. His eyebrows were larger than normal from Alfred's perspective but, as he was so young, it didn't bother him. He glanced around and Alfred backed away, using the fence as a shield, nervous of these strangers spotting him spying.

After waiting for a few moments, Alfred snuck to the end of the fence and peered round into their yard. A pair of green eyes stared back.

With a yelp, Alfred fell backwards, hitting the ground hard enough to scrape his elbow. He winced at the pain but, because he was a big boy, held back the tears as best he could as he sat up. The green-eyed boy watched him – he was not smiling.

"H-Hi?" said Alfred, nervously.

"Hello," said the boy.

"U-Um. Alfred," he said, holding out his hand for a handshake, copying what he had seen his dad do. The other boy watched him and held out his. For a moment, Alfred stared at him. Then he realised that he was too far away to shake his hand. He scrambled to his feet and hurried over, grabbing the kid's hand and shaking it, almost jerking him over the invisible line which separated Alfred's yard from the boy's.

"Arthur," said the other boy. "I just moved in."

Alfred was enthralled. Not only did he have a weird voice, he said things like a grown-up. He never quite realised that Arthur was just copying his own father. "You sound weird!" he exclaimed loudly.

"I come from England," said Arthur. "I'm English."

"Engwish! Awesome!" he grinned at the other boy.

"English," Arthur corrected him.

"Hey! Wanna pway?" asked Alfred, wanting someone to keep him company.

Arthur glanced towards the house before nodding himself. Alfred leaned around him and spotted the boy's mother, smiling down at Arthur. He waved at her and she waved back, laughing. Then he grabbed the English boy's hand and dragged him to the gate which led to the backyard. There Alfred showed Arthur his swing set and the slide and the jungle gym and the balls and the tricycles and all manner of other toys. Arthur silently watched him.

"So? What you wanna pway wif?" asked Alfred excitedly.

"Um…" said Arthur, quietly. "I want to play… pirates and marines."

"Huh? Whassat?"

"Well, I'll pretend I'm a famous pirate captain and you can be the admiral of the navy trying to catch me."

"I don't geddit…"

"Have you never played a game about being heroes and villains? This is that."

Alfred frowned. A hero. What was a hero? When he asked Arthur, he blinked in surprise before laughing. It was a sweet laugh; Alfred had the sense that he didn't use it very often. He blushed, a little annoyed that he was being laughed at. He pouted at Arthur who laughed a little more before sitting down on the grass. Alfred followed suit.

"I'll tell you some stories with heroes and villains but what you have to understand before I do is that a hero is someone who is good and saves people while a villain does the opposite."

Then began an afternoon that Alfred never forgot, as much as he would say he didn't. Arthur spun beautiful tales of princesses and princes; wizards and witches; sorcerers and monsters; fairies and unicorns. Alfred sat enthralled, gaping at Arthur. It was as though he could see the events unfolding in front of him. Whenever Arthur stopped for breath, Alfred bounced closer asking what happened next. Arthur would laugh at his eagerness and plough on with new aplomb.

All too soon there was a cough and Alfred turned and blinked as he refocused on his mother. Arthur's mum was there too, smiling down at her son. Alfred instantly knew what this meant and let out an "Aww!" as Arthur stood up. "Hey, hey!" he added, grabbing hold of Arthur's trouser leg. "Can we pway again tomowwow?

Arthur hesitated. Then he nodded, a smile spreading across his face. Then he ran off to his mother who laughed and hoisted him up to carry him home despite his protests.

They continued to play make-believe adventures for the rest of the summer. Arthur also told more of his stories while Alfred listened avidly. Arthur also encouraged Alfred to tell his own stories but he wasn't as good as Arthur. Arthur would always ask for more details and this would fluster Alfred, unaware that Arthur was trying to help him to bring more life to them.

Then one of Alfred's friends came home and he hurried off to visit them without thinking of Arthur. He did when he returned home and his mother told him that Arthur had visited. A little alarmed, he toddled next door - under the watchful eye of his mother – and knocked. There was no answer and he couldn't see their car. He went back to his porch and watched for their return.

When the car pulled up, Alfred could see Arthur staring out at him. He looked sad instead of his usual smile – for he smiled whenever he saw Alfred. Alfred wondered if he had hurt himself and hurried over when he opened the car door.

"Arfur?" he asked him. "You 'kay?"

Arthur glanced at his mother and father who told him to be inside the house in five minutes. Arthur nodded his agreement and looked to Alfred. Once the grown-ups were out of earshot, Arthur spoke.

"I'm fine. You weren't around so my parents took me to a comic book shop."

"Comic book?"

Arthur nodded and reached into a plastic bag that Alfred had failed to notice him holding. "Here," he said, holding out what looked like a book. Alfred took it and looked at the man on the front who seemed to be flying through the air.

"Can't read," he said, frowning at Arthur.

"Most of it is pictures. Tomorrow, I can read it to you and you can learn to read. If you're not busy."

Alfred nodded. "Of course!"

The next day, Alfred showed his friend the comic book and took him to his backyard. They waited for Arthur and, when he showed, Alfred was rather confused as to why he seemed to be a little moodier than usual. However, he patiently read his way through the book and, when he came to the end, Alfred demanded more. Arthur shook his head.

"You need to wait for the next issue."

And so, as Alfred grew, he became more and more interested in superheroes as he bought issue after issue of comics. He and Arthur still played with each other but their interests began to differ and they started to drift apart. This was especially so when it was obvious that Arthur didn't get on well with Alfred's other friends.

Finally, three years later, the day came that Arthur was to move. He hadn't told Alfred and so the young American was shocked to see the removal van outside. He rushed out and to the other house, getting in the way of some men carrying their television. He followed the familiar path to Arthur's room and found the boy sitting on the bed looking miserably out of the window.

"Arthur!" yelled Alfred, an angry tone to his voice. Arthur gasped in surprise and turned, blinking as he saw Alfred standing in the doorway, a little out of breath. "What's going on?!"

Arthur looked as though he was holding back tears. "My dad is getting a new job again. We're moving back to England."

"NO!" yelled Alfred. He crossed the room in a few strides and leapt on top of Arthur, hugging him tightly. Arthur looked shocked that the American was crying, too. "Y-You can't go!" Alfred sobbed. "Y-You're my friend! You're the one who told me about heroes! Y-You-You're my hero!"

Arthur looked shocked for a few more seconds before smiling. It was a smile that Alfred didn't think suited him. It made him look older. The older boy patted Alfred's head and hugged him until he fell asleep.

When the younger boy awoke, he was in his own bed. He sat up quickly and felt the paper under his hand. He picked it up and looked at it before frowning a little. Using his comic books as references, he soon deciphered the note:

You are my hero, Alfred. I wish you every happiness. Just remember, you can do anything if you put your mind to it.

Farewell.

Arthur

Alfred cried himself back to sleep that night amongst his comic books, clutching the farewell letter.

Alfred grew up, relishing his comic books all the more. However, he soon pushed the memory of Arthur to the back of his mind, sure he would be doing well in his homeland.

Alfred wished he could have superpowers and save the girl. He often wondered where he would build his secret hideout. He even built a tree house with his father at one point, declaring it his headquarters. Then, when Alfred started to prepare for college, he heard the rumours. Rumours of people deciding to become superheroes. They didn't seem to have superpowers but they would dress up and save people from crimes the best they could. A lot of the time, these heroes were beaten up. A lot more, however, were succeeding. Alfred watched the news with increasing interest.

Then, suddenly, heroes with actual powers appeared. Not just heroes – villains, too. Fire and ice battles began to take place along with other sort of powers. Alfred watched this in his home on the edge of his seat. Then, later, when he went on the computer in his room, he found the fan clubs. He joined all the heroes' fan clubs, buying merchandise from them.

One of the heroes, however, he was unsure whether to join the club or not. His name was The Gentleman and no-one knew all that much about him except that he had a British accent. Alfred had been sure the site would just be for people who acted gentlemanly – drank tea and ate scones. However, he soon found that this was not the case. The hero had a small following and they all had names about how they were The Gentleman's number one fan. Alfred just used his own Internet handle, HERO .

The night before he was to leave his home for his college, a new member signed up. Their name was The_Gentleman. Alfred and the others were enraged, insulting him, telling him not to pretend to be someone he wasn't. The_Gentleman didn't respond for some time until, suddenly, he sent a message. But I am not pretending to be someone I am not. I am The Gentleman. For instance, I saved one of you today from a mugging.

One of the girls almost imploded with happiness. She was able to confirm The_Gentleman's story – adding that she had told him excitedly about the site – and so it was that The Gentleman was welcomed into the site. Alfred was ecstatic. He chattered to him, telling him what a fan of heroes he was. Then, suddenly, to Alfred's delight and horror, The Gentleman privately messaged him.

The_Gentleman: What is your name?

Panicked, Alfred lied, telling him that his name was Amelia – he didn't want him to know that he was a guy and lame enough to come on this site: most of the members were girls. He explained that he was moving to the city and going to college to study art. The Gentleman wished him luck and then logged off.

A couple of weeks later, Alfred was heading home from a trip to the comic book store when he heard a noise coming from the alleyway he was passing. He stopped and backed up, peering through the gloom to see what was there. There was a group of people standing around, laughing.

They were laughing at the sight of a girl cowering from them.

Alfred froze. What should he do? He wanted to be a hero but, at the same time, he wasn't entirely sure what he could do.

He made a decision. "Hey! You!" he shouted into the alley, rushing forward. "What do you think you're doing?!" He rammed into the nearest man, knocking him out of the way. "Run!" he exclaimed to the girl now that there was a gap in the circle. She nodded and obeyed, rushing off and out of sight.

Alfred, meanwhile, hesitated. Should he stop them from doing anything else or should he run for it as well? He decided to run – but too late. One of the other men grabbed him and pulled him backwards. He tripped over the felled villain and landed heavily. His glasses flew off his face and he felt his hands scrape against the concrete. Before he could rise again, another man grabbed him and pulled his face towards him by the hair. Alfred could see the blurry outline of his fist as it bore down on him. Pain erupted from his cheek and he spluttered. He tried to pull away but the man's hand kept him from moving. Pain from his stomach alerted Alfred to the other men kicking him. He started to panic and he realised he was crying when the men began to laugh at him.

"Ahem," said a voice, cutting through the noise. Everything stopped and the men seemed to turn. The one holding him let go and Alfred felt around until he found his glasses. They were broken having been stepped on by someone but it served their purpose as he put them back on and looked round.

He gaped at the scene.

There was a man with blonde hair standing there. He was wearing a black suit and tie with an immaculate white shirt. His black shoes shone, reflecting the distant streetlight. He wore a top hat and also had a cape, both black. In his hand was a cane. His eyes were obscured by a black mask.

"The Gentleman!" exclaimed one of the men. "You beat up my friend a while back! Prepare to taste revenge!"

The Gentleman put a hand on his hip. "Of course," he said. "I look forward to it."

With that, the men attacked all at once. There were five of them and The Gentleman seemed to be unfazed. Alfred wanted to shout out, do something, but he realised that he wouldn't be much help. So he watched as The Gentleman surveyed the men coming at him, uninterested.

Suddenly, The Gentleman lifted his cane and brought it crashing down on the leader's head. As the leader fell, unconscious, he kicked one of the other men's knee, causing him to collapse to the floor in agony. He made a swiping motion with the cane and bashed it into another's stomach. He doubled over and The Gentleman kneed him in the face. The other two men stopped, hesitant to continue. One decided to fight and the other ran. The Gentleman jabbed the man in the stomach and then took off his hat and threw it. The heavy hat spun like a Frisbee and hit the man with a glancing blow to his head. He fell heavily and lay still.

Alfred's mouth had fallen open with the simplicity of the way The Gentleman had dealt with them. The hero walked to the man who had been fleeing and retrieved his hat. He walked back to Alfred as he brushed it off. When he reached him, he bowed before straightening and placing his hat on his head.

"Good evening," said his English voice. "May I offer you some assistance?"

"Uh…" said Alfred, awestruck. "I… Uh… Ow…" He lifted a hand and gingerly touched his cheek. It was rather painful and his stomach seemed to be throbbing.

The Gentleman watched him for a moment before proffering his hand. Alfred cautiously reached up and took hold of it and he was pulled to his feet by a strong grip. Alfred found himself staring at The Gentleman, unable to see his eyes under the shadow of his hat. Sirens sounded nearby and Alfred glanced towards the mouth of the alley. The girl must have called the cops.

"I will take you to the hospital-" The Gentleman began.

"Oh, no!" exclaimed Alfred, fearful that his time with the hero would be cut too short. "I'm fine!"

"But you need medical attention."

"I'll be fine – I can take care of this myself!" Alfred tried to grin but winced when the pain hit him.

The man stared at him for a moment before glancing down the alleyway, possibly wondering if the police could take care of the criminals. He sighed and then looked back at Alfred. "Here," he said, holding out a handkerchief. Alfred took it and held it to his cheek. The smell from the cloth was sweet. It was only when he started to feel rather light-headed that he realised what he was breathing in…

Alfred woke up on a couch. He gasped and sat up before groaning at the throbbing pain in his stomach, face and head. He turned and sat up properly on the couch, cradling his head in his hands. He felt something beneath his fingers and, probing, realised that there was a bandage where he had been hit. Perhaps he had been cut and someone had patched him up.

He blinked and looked around. He was in a bare living room though the marks on the floor and the wall showed that it wasn't normally this empty. There was the couch and a coffee table. A TV faced Alfred and a blanket had fallen to the floor at his feet. As he picked it up, a door opened and he turned to watch The Gentleman enter in full costume. Alfred surged to his feet – and promptly sat back down with a groan.

The Gentleman sighed. "I see you're awake," he said, not speaking his mind. "If the pain persists, go to a hospital. I apologise for knocking you out but I could not let you see my hideout. Now, here." He held out the end of a rope.

Alfred stared at it before taking it gently, reverently. "What is it?"

"Your way out," said The Gentleman. "I am afraid I am very busy so I cannot take you outside." He handed over a black piece of cloth to Alfred – a blindfold. "If you follow the rope, you should come to the front door and be able to get out."

"B-But!" exclaimed Alfred as the man turned to leave. He paused and looked back at him, his hidden eyes boring into him. He blushed a little. "I-I'm a big fan, M-Mr Gentleman, sir! Honest! I-I wanted to ask you some things so I could know you better!"

There was a silence while Alfred hopped impatiently from foot to foot. He wondered if his hero would comply with his request. He didn't want to know his identity, though. All he wanted was to know the answers to some questions he had. But there were so many, he was unsure as to which to ask first…

"I will answer only one question," said the mysterious man.

"Aww!" said Alfred with a pout. "Well, fine! Did you give yourself the name or was it someone else?"

After a slight hesitation, the other spoke. "I never named myself. I stepped in when a man with a gun was trying to force a girl into a car. I tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention and he laughed at me for not hitting him whilst he was distracted. I explained that I was too gentlemanly to hit him like that and the girl started calling me that. The name spread. Now, go home."

"Ah, but, do you like the name?"

"I told you I was only answering one question. Get out of here."

"But-!"

"But nothing!" snapped the man, suddenly. Alfred was taken aback and stared at him in shock, still gripping the end of the rope and the blindfold. The Gentleman sighed and took off his hat, running his hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. I'm tired. I need some sleep. So I need you to leave."

"Ah!" exclaimed Alfred, excitedly. "Of course! You've been up all night. I'll go right now!" And with that, he fumbled with the blindfold until he had it securely tied around his eyes. He stumbled forward, clutching at the rope. He stumbled in straight lines and in curves and almost fell down some stairs until, finally, he ran out of rope. Then, he fiddled with his blindfold and, once off, he looked round, gripping the cloth tightly.

He appeared to be in front of a row of several apartment blocks, at the bottom of some steps leading up to one. He turned and memorised the number before looking for the rope. He couldn't see any. He frowned. Where had it gone? Had that really all happened? He gazed down at the blindfold in mild disbelief before turning and walking off to find a cab, keeping the blindfold in his hand…

A week later, Alfred was with Kiku, the only guy whom he had told about his mini adventure. They needed to go to the library to find some books for their mechanical engineering course. Both of them were eager to build robots and the like and they walked in with smiles on their faces as they discussed their projects.

The library was packed.

Although they had found the books they needed, they were unable to take them out as there were not many of them. They began to wander around, trying to find a table. Suddenly, Alfred found a space at the end of a large table. "Hey! What about there?" he asked in his normal volume.

Kiku followed his gaze before shaking his head with a frown. "Gomen, Alfred-kun. We cannot sit there. He does not like people interrupting him."

Now, Alfred followed his gaze and spotted a messy, blonde-haired man poring over a pile of books. He was wearing a black shirt with a pair of dark jeans. He was scribbling on a notebook, the pen looping effortlessly across the paper. He seemed to sense Alfred's staring and looked up, his green eyes widening as he seemed to recognise him. Alfred also seemed to recognise him – those large eyebrows of his were awfully familiar. Finally, he remembered and rushed over, Kiku's protest going unnoticed for the moment.

"Arthur?!" exclaimed Alfred, excitedly. "Dude! I thought I'd never see you again! What're you doing in America? Shouldn't you be back in England?"

For a moment, Arthur looked confused before his eyes widened further. "Alfred?" he gasped. "You-You… You're so tall!"

Alfred laughed loudly and a few students looked round. He sat down opposite Arthur and Kiku nervously bowed before sitting as well. "Is that all you have to say after all these years?"

"Ah, well." Arthur glanced away, sheepish. "I… I suppose I should apologise: I never left you any way to contact me. But I knew I'd be moving around a lot and so…"

"Ah, don't worry about it! I mean, it's not as if it mattered to me very much. I was young. I had friends. I could make new ones. But, hey! It was fun while it lasted."

Arthur stared at him in disbelief. "W-What…? But…"

"Hey, this is Kiku. Me and him are doing an engineering course together. What about you?"

"Oh…" said Arthur, glancing down at his books. "I'm doing an English and Creative Writing course. It's quite good, even if Americans use the wrong English."

Alfred frowned. "I always hated English. It was so annoying."

Arthur bristled. "If you wouldn't mind, I have an important paper due. We can talk later." He waved his hand as if in dismissal.

Alfred looked bemused. They had only just seen each other again and he wanted to find out what the Englishman had been up to; he had reckoned that Arthur would think the same. So why was he trying to get rid of him? Alfred studied his former friend. His brow was furrowed deeper than he remembered. He didn't seem to have any laughter lines and his eyes seemed to be darker than they had been, as if they had lost their light. What had happened to him in the time they had spent apart?

"Okay…" muttered Alfred, a little sadly. He took out a pen from his bag and leaned across the table before writing at the top of Arthur's page, upside down to the Englishman. "This is my number," he said, by way of explanation. "We should meet up sometime, okay?" When he stood up, he could see Arthur's affronted look. He seemed to be trying to say something but was too angry to do so. Then Alfred walked away having spotted a recently vacated table. Kiku followed, bowing to Arthur as he did so.