Author's Notes:

Hey, over half a year, people. Over half a YEAR. Dang, I really am bad with this updating thing lol. Sorry it took so long but life in 2012 has been so eventful and hectic, but it's dynamite, so thank you guys for all the birthday wishes and encouragements when I last saw ya'll. I've actually been super busy this year and just this past month I went to London with a friend. Let me tell you that the real thing could not even compare to writing about a personified country. So, to England, sorry for not portraying you as amazing and beautiful as your country and customs are.

Hope you enjoy this installment 'cause I'm not sure when I'll be able to write another.

Also, I can't help but comment on this. CT, whoever you are, your comment was super adorable and was a real wonderful thing to see. : )

Enjoy.

Time to be honest

This time I'm bleeding

Please don't dwell on it

'Cause I didn't mean it.

Everyday I've spent away my soul's inside out

Gotta be some way that I could make it up to you now

Somehow

- Nickelback, I'd Come For You

"You're such a klutz."

Alfred sat with a ridiculous and positively sheepish grin on his lips, body posture much too relaxed for the situation he was in. It must've been the loopy aftereffects of the pain medication for the lump on the back of his head when he'd slipped off his roof putting Christmas lights up.

"Who manages to fall and actually miss the piles of snow on the cement?" I asked, rolling my eyes and taking a seat across from Alfred in his sitting room. He snickered and continued that obscene tap-tap-tapping of his finger on his cast.

"Daredevils," he commented, eyes drawn up in amusement. I let my vision drop to regard the hard outer shell of his new temporary support for his right wrist, the cast a strange sort of protuberance that was as unpleasing as it was fascinating.

"It isn't funny, Alfred."

"I know."

"Do you?" I raised an unenthused eyebrow, drawing another chuckle from my doped up friend. "You fell from your roof. I don't know about you, but I don't really see much humor in it."

"Sorry," Alfred said very insincerely. I pursed my lips and decided to drop it, knowing that by the distracted look adjourning Alfred's face that our conversation would likely meet a dead end soon anyway.

I leaned back into my chair and cautiously peered around the corner of the room, hearing clinking of dishes in the kitchen and the aroma of a cooked meal in process. After Alfred's mother had called me I had quickly made my way to the hospital where she informed me Alfred was. I didn't know exactly what to expect since she was so very vague about whatever it was that happened, but needless to say the rapid palpitations of my heart in my temples were a constant annoyance until I saw my friend.

I glanced back over at Alfred, who was now scratching at the edge of his cast where his skin met the casing and tightened my lips. He made me feel like a fool for reacting like his head was on fire, when, in fact, it was just his own idiocy that fractured his wrist. Even now my face felt sweaty and uncomfortable when I recalled the swish of panic and a presence somewhat heavy and thick deep down in my stomach. Alfred looked up at me just then and I frowned and focused my attention on my lap.

I'd rather not dwell on it, in all honesty.

"Red or black?"

It took me a moment but I finally registered that Alfred had said something, and as I looked up he was watching me as well. I blinked owlishly at him, letting the confusion seep off my tongue and copiously coat my words. "Uh, excuse me?"

"Red or black?"

I squinted slightly at him and glanced hesitantly to where the sounds of sizzling food cooking could be heard (hoping for direction from someone else when Alfred was this out of it, really) before looking back. "What do you mean? Red or black, what?"

"Just- red or black, dude?"

"Did you hit your head that hard–"

Alfred gave a loud, exasperated sigh which made me scowl at his melodrama. "You take all the fun out of it. Red or black?"

I looked down at his open hand and opened my mouth silently in understanding. Oh. Oh, pens. His cast. Right… Right.

"Black, I suppose."

I made to get up but Alfred decided otherwise and threw it square at my forehead. I winced and rolled my eyes at him, muttering a curse before I picked up the instrument and took a seat beside him. He held out his arm as I grasped the cast gently in my hand. He yelped and I quickly let go, eyes shooting to him with another drumming of my heart. Alfred grinned at me.

"Psych. Sorry, just pullin' your leg."

With a purposely loud sigh, I grabbed his wrist once more, tenderly this time, damn the stupid pain paranoia he'd been concocting in my head, and let the pen hover over the shell, the smell of the permanent ink starting to burn at my eyes. I didn't know exactly what to write. Get well soon was too generic and impersonal, whereas Next time don't be such a moron was too honest and wouldn't get good reviews from the wearer, I surmise.

In my thoughtful pause Alfred's eyes had been staring intently at my face, apparently watching the plethora of twitches in my muscles with each thought.

"You know," he said, lips pulling up at the corner in an amused smirk that I loved to hate, "no pressure, really, but as my best bud you're supposed to write something really comforting and encouraging. And, well, you're also the first to sign it, so everyone after you will see your message first and judge you by it. But no pressure. Just do your thing."

God, he was such an ass.

"So, writing butthead would be too much? I know people aren't very fond of stating the obvious."

Alfred snorted. "Just write your novel, Arthur."

In the end I just decided to keep it simple.

Alfred pulled his arm back and stared at my writing, face unreadable the longer he watched. I occupied myself and capped the pen, standing up and placing it on the coffee table across the room. Alfred's mother could be heard putting plates on the table now so I decided it was best to get back to the activities in my own home, since Alfred's little excursion took me on a three hour detour.

"I should get going. My parents barely got any warning when your mother called me. I suppose they aren't too thrilled with the time I've wasted." I slid my coat on and turned to see Alfred still staring at his cast. I moved forward and snapped my fingers twice in front of his face before he blinked and looked up at me.

"What?"

"Goodbye?" I said, raising an eyebrow.

He glanced at his cast once more for a split second before grinning and pushing me away from him with his foot. I stumbled and glared as he ran his good hand through his hair. "Oh. Yeah, cool, cool. Don't worry about it. I'll see you later, then."

I paused and nodded, turning to leave. "Yeah. I'll text you tomorrow."

As I shut the door behind me and made for my car, I silently pondered what was so fascinating about the ink on his cast.

Get better, Alfred. I don't like seeing you in pain.

It was true, after all. Why did he have to look as though it meant so much to hear it? Words are stronger than unvoiced realities, I guess.

Christmas Eve was here in the blink of an eye, something that I never really thought about till in the deep of it. I never really was a huge fan of Christmas in general; the singing, the lights, the constant family togetherness that was just borderline smothering. Not exactly for me, but apparently it was right up Alfred's alley.

"Come on, Arthur. Just do it with me."

My throat closed down as I picked up my phone, tea sputtering out my lips when I set my cup down. Really, who the hell starts a conversation like that when dialing a number?

"Hello to you, too, Alfred," I managed to say, running a hand uncomfortably down my face. Alfred seemed undeterred.

"Do it. You said you would if I asked you today."

Ah, it was clear in that moment that he was talking about sledding down that monstrosity that people called a hill in this town. It was more like a mountain than a hill, almost a complete vertical drop.

"No, I said I might say yes if you asked. And why do you want to go sledding down that cliff, anyway? You need another cast to match you current one?" I inquired, raising an eyebrow and running my finger along the top of my cup distractedly. I heard Alfred snort and the smile was evident in his voice. It was contagious, I couldn't help stifling a grin as well.

"Party pooper. Where's your sense of adventure?"

"Oh, I get that every day when I tend to the holiday masses at work." Customers were vicious.

"Pfft. That doesn't count. You need something to get your blood rushing, your heart pounding. Something exciting-"

"Like breaking my neck!" I quipped in false enthusiasm.

"Shut up. You know what I mean."

"Actually, I haven't a clue."

"Come on, Arthur. It doesn't sound the least bit exciting to you?"

"Not the least bit."

"Jackass."

"Simpleton." There was a long silence on his end of the phone, only the sound of the static between the lines connecting us being heard, when I felt like perhaps I had offended Alfred. But, come now, who could blame me for wanting to, you know, live instead of become a smear on the pavement? But then the mood in the air changed and I could practically see Alfred shrug in nonchalance.

"Okay, then. I'll just go by myself. See you, Arthur."

I blinked in surprise at the phone as he abruptly hung up on me. I set the device down on the countertop and stared at it, furrowing my eyebrows in thought. He was going to go sliding down that hill in the dark by himself – without anyone to help him if he crashed or broke another one of his bones?

My stomach coiled and I grit my teeth.

No way. He was just messing with me; trying to manipulate me into doing what he wanted. Well, I wasn't just some string he could tie into knots at a whim. He's a big boy, he could handle himself.

"Not going to happen, Alfred," I said, shaking my head slightly and smiling, walking out of the kitchen.

I wasn't going to give in.

"I hate you."

Alfred grinned at me, his nose and cheeks a rosy red under the harsh tyranny of the cold, even in the darkness. The streetlamps accentuated it, in actuality. But it wasn't a bad look with Alfred's tanned skin; the dimples poking in his cheeks and his eyes alight with glee didn't help either.

"I hate you, too, buddy. Now, you ready to do this or what?" he asked, patting my back hard with one of his gloved hands. I caught myself before I slipped in the snow, glaring at him with a sense of annoyance. I was bundled so tight it must've looked ridiculous. But it was the coldest it had been this winter and I still couldn't even feel my toes under all this padding.

"You mean wet myself?"

Alfred's smile awkwardly turned into a grimace. "Dude… You're not seriously going to do that, are you? The last thing I want to do is be fused to you because of your pee."

"Would you prefer that we just go home?"

Alfred's smile was back in place as he shoved past me, sled held high over his head. "Pee-pals it is, then!"

With a great deal of dread, wishing that he would've been too disgusted and gotten over it, I followed after my friend and placed a small bag next to his poorly wrapped gift in the snow under a tree. The worst part about this hill was that the end was a cul-de-sac, one that overlooked a small outing before dropping off to a steep slope, blackness like an ocean below, unobtainable to the glittering lights of the streetlamps. I gulped as I stared into that darkness, wondering just how Alfred knew where the trees were to maneuver around them. I asked him such.

"I thought we'd wing it," he shrugged. I balked outwardly at him until he chuckled, placing the red sled onto the snow. "Dude, calm down. You think I'm that stupid? Don't answer that," he muttered quickly, shushing me when I opened my mouth. "My dad got me this a couple years ago. It's awesome."

Switching a small button on the side, the curved front of the sled lit up, appearing to actually have small headlights. Alright, I had to admit, it was pretty awesome. I was so transfixed with the pseudo car-like device that it was only when Alfred tugged at my pant leg that I even noticed he had already seated himself in the front, gesturing for me to get on.

Oh, Christ. It was like the skateboard incident all over again.

"What're you waiting for, Christmas?" he asked, grinning like a fool.

I pretended to ponder that. "Well, considering that it's–"

Alfred made a good show of groaning before tugging harder. "God, I wasn't serious. Just get on." When I continued to stand over him and stare apathetically down at his cause, Alfred finally pouted and lowered his eyelids, looking away, trying to seem disinterested. "Fine, suit yourself. See you at the bottom." His boot dug into the snow as he pushed the sled forward.

I panicked, quickly reaching out for him as the red device started teetering over the edge. "Wait- Wait, I said! Alfred, stop for a second-" But that was all I managed to get out, because after latching so hard down onto his hood, I tumbled into the back, only given enough notification that we were already flying down the hill when the light was stolen from my eyes and a brutal wind burned at my face.

If this ride didn't kill him, I certainly would.

Alfred cheered and hunkered down, probably to gain more speed as he maneuvered the bullet of a sled around trees and lumps in the snow. I tried to hold onto the edges of the sled but gave that up almost instantly, choosing to forgo my pride and grasp onto Alfred like he was my only lifeline, my eyes wide and watering as ice currents bombarded my body.

"Isn't this great?" I vaguely heard Alfred yell before we shot over a lumpy mound of snow, flying in the air for two seconds and then landing with a hard thump on the ground, continuing our decent. I winced as the impact knocked the wind out of me, tucking my head against the curve of Alfred's spinal cord with a grunt. Alfred glanced briefly over his shoulder at me and laughed. I had no time to take joy in the contagious sound, because that split second overlook distracted him enough to veer into a particularly wooded area at the base of the hill.

Perhaps Alfred muttered "uh-oh" but I'll never know, considering how I was too distracted by the dozens and dozens of tightly knitted trees rapidly approaching us. Or, at least, they appeared to be the ones approaching us. I didn't get much warning when the inevitable happened: the sled made contact with bark.

Alfred tried to shield most of the impact, tilting the sled at an angle to keep me from actually hitting the tree, but it didn't help much since we were thrown from the device, a headlight shattering and allowing the obscuring darkness to gain more leverage. I landed on my shoulder, an aching pain shooting into my neck before I continued to roll, bouncing from the snow to the trees to the rocks underneath. It felt like an eternity but I presume the impact only lasted about ten seconds. By the end of it I was stopped by a particularly hard tree trunk seventy feet away from the flickering light of the remaining headlight.

I just stared at it, absentmindedly thinking it was a firefly, before it registered that, ow, my muscles hurt, and grr, I was going to kill that stupid, reckless, insensitive–

I sat up, blowing out a puff of white air as realization dawned. Where was Alfred? It was much too dark to see, but I managed to make it to my feet and try staggering back to the sled as quickly as possible, slipping three times on the steep climb. I looked around the crash site, wincing at the chipped and splintered paint of Alfred's overturned sled, biting at my lip nervously when Alfred was nowhere to be seen.

"Alfred?" I called out into the all-encompassing darkness. Nothing but the sound of my own breathing greeted me and my blood became a thunderous sound in my ears. "Alfred!" I tried a little louder, feeling the familiar touch of a cold sweat gripping my body and making it harder to breathe. I sneered and ran a hand roughly over my hair, feet stumbling over each other in no particular direction, as if they didn't have a straight order from my brain. "Shit."

It was only in my hastily unbalanced pacing that I heard it. It was small and muffled and seemed far away, but I heard it. I stopped and turned wild eyes out into the blackness to my left, urging for the sound to resurface. It did, and I immediately recognized it as Alfred's laughter.

Regardless of the trek down, I made my way quickly in that direction, feet stuttering over branches and my face knocking into trees every now and then.

"Alfred?"

The laughter was a little louder now, and I noticed that Alfred had been thrown almost twice as far as me.

"Alfred, where are you?" I called, still feeling unbearably anxious upon being unable to see even a foot in front of myself. I pulled out my mobile and tried to shine the light for some help.

"Let's do that again!" Alfred whooped from in front of me. I narrowed my eyes, willing them to adjust and find my friend. Ten feet down and they did, half immersed in a withered little creek bed, on his back and grinning up at me. I saw that his arm had broken through the thin layer of ice and the jacket sleeve was soaked.

"Are you alright? Are you hurt, did you break anything- Alfred?" I demanded, kneeling in front of him and patting him down. The side he had shielded me with was his bad arm, the one with the cast, and I couldn't even think about if he reopened that injury. My mind thought to swelling skin, bruise patches, protruding bones – "Alfred?" I ordered almost frantically, eyes seeking out my friend's in the dull light of the mobile.

"Chill, Arthur. I'm fine. A little wet, but fine. That's more than I can say about you," he reassured, glove brushing against my cheek. I flinched away almost self-consciously, my brain being unable to transfer from worrying over Alfred to being worried over. "You got a battle scar."

It was almost unrecognizable in the darkness, but that was most certainly blood on his glove.

"Jesus Christ," I breathed, flopping back and hearing the snow crunch under my ass, my trembling hands running over my face as I gained my bearings. Alfred patted my shoulder twice, feeling his presence looming over me when I remained silent, shaking off the vestiges of uncertainty and, well, and fear, I suppose. I didn't even want to think about how fast we were traveling when the tree rushed to greet us.

"It's okay, Arthur. It's not anything to worry about," Alfred awkwardly reassured. "A little blood never hurt anybody."

"It's not my lip," I protested lightly, raising my head enough to see the dim teal glow reflecting off his glasses. I couldn't quite pin his expression when it was this dark. "It was- I thought," I started but cleared my throat and glanced away, running my tongue over the metallic sting at the corner of my mouth.

Alfred was silent a moment, almost as if he was in a thoughtful daze before he spoke up, his voice sturdy but laced with uncertainty. "You thought I was hurt."

I nodded.

Alfred exhaled a small breath, and I dimly heard him swallow around another exhale. "You don't like seeing me in pain," Alfred murmured, his tone something I had never heard before, but it made me certain that I didn't want to look him straight in the eyes at this moment.

A hand lightly slapped me on the cheek and I jolted back, eyes wide and confused as Alfred randomly burst into laughter and broke the contemplative atmosphere. "Right back at you, buddy. Now let's please get up. My ass is freezing and I'm so not looking forward to that climb back up."

Alfred stood up and brushed the snow off his clothing, leaning down and offering a hand. I silently accepted it and allowed him to pull me to my feet when he patted me on the back and shoved me in the direction of the abandoned sled.

"You sure you don't want to do that again?"

I looked up towards the stars through the tree line and shook my head. "If I never do anything adventurous again it will be too soon."

It was a good fifteen minutes to drag the sled back up to the cul-de-sac and my calves burned with the yearning to sit down and never function again. We were both nearly out of breath when we took a seat on the pathway's edge, Alfred falling back so he was flat on the cement, nothing but his knees bent and feet in the gutter.

"Best Christmas ever."

"Yikes, I'd hate to have been at your worst," I muttered, rubbing at my bruised lip and wincing. Alfred paid me no attention and continued to look at the clouded night sky. I didn't know how he could lay in such freezing snow for that long, but I simply decided to use his gloveless hand with his wrist cast to determine how cold he was. His fingers poking out of the cast were dark red, on the verge of purple. It was time to wrap this night up.

"I hope that you got me something nice enough to block out another memory of you throwing me down a hill."

Alfred opened his eyes and looked up at me with a quirked eyebrow. "I didn't throw you down any hills." I made a face at him and he hid a sheepish grin. "Not technically, anyway. It's not my fault if you're easy to goad."

"Piss off and give me my present."

Alfred made another show of false annoyance and plugged his ears, getting up and retrieving my small bag and his gift, still under the tree where we left them.

"Merry Christmas, Scrooge," he said, throwing his box at me. I snorted and neatly began opening the packaging as Alfred full-out tore into the bag I got him. I opened the box and stared at a dark green sweatshirt with the big letters of BROWN on the front. I slowly pulled it out and Alfred looked up in time to smile at me.

"You know, to make my leaving not so sucky," he instructed. He didn't look so certain when I didn't manage to make any sort of expression at him. "It made sense when I bought it…" he mumbled.

The fabric was thick, even I could tell that under my gloves, and when I brought it up to touch my cheek it felt unbelievably soft. I didn't know what to say, but Alfred's almost illogical gift from his school made me feel so much better, it was almost painful.

"This sweatshirt is clearly green, I think there was a misprint," I muttered and raised my eyebrows at him, gesturing to the word. Alfred blinked at me before rolling his eyes and punching my shoulder good-naturedly. I smirked softly and kept my fingers wrapped in the warmth of the sweater and placed it in my lap, it now being my turn to see how he viewed my gift. My hands were sweaty in my gloves as I expectantly waited to see his reaction. It was a lame gift but, like Alfred said about his, it made sense when I wrapped it.

Alfred's smile dropped when he pulled out a picture frame and held it up to get a better look as I shifted awkwardly beside him.

"I bought the frame. I just thought it would look better if it wasn't just lying around in a box somewhere," I explained, eyes dancing around his face and waiting for a response. He wore the same contemplative expression he had worn a few days ago when I wrote on his cast.

It was just a simple picture of the two of us. Alfred had his arm around my shoulder and I wore a small smile, though it appeared more as a grimace to me. Alfred's face, however, had the largest smile I had ever seen he adjourn. It was from the day by his pool when he had gotten heatstroke and I found out officially about his secret. If one looked hard enough at the picture, one would be able to see the slight red tinge around Alfred's eyes from his grateful tears at my easy acceptance.

"I don't know why, but I thought you'd want it." I scratched behind my ear uncomfortably, Alfred's silence always unnerving me. Maybe he didn't like it. Maybe he didn't approve of being reminded of that part of his past. Maybe he was ashamed of that day when I had found out about his suicide attempt in such an embarrassing manner.

That thought made my heart sink a little, for I had never been ashamed of him, and had treated that day as the day we had become real friends.

"It's great." Alfred cleared his throat harshly and tried again, his voice not cracking as much as his first attempt. "It's great. Thanks Arthur."

My eyebrows raised even higher when Alfred set the picture down, coughing and looking away, his face pinched in an expression I couldn't read, but his eyes getting a glassy sheen to them that made my heart stop beating for a moment. Was Alfred really getting choked up over this? Yes, it was a nice picture, but… Well, I suppose that day probably meant more to Alfred than it did to me. It just never really clicked until now.

He turned his attention back to me and laughed, pulling me in suddenly for a tight hug. I was shocked for a moment before breathing out a calming breath and returning it, albeit with not quite as much vigor. I felt like Alfred was going to break my spine in half.

It was only when I noticed the crickets chirping and that Alfred's body heat had started to seep through his jacket that it registered: this hug had been going on for nearly two minutes. When I tried to pull back I felt Alfred's fingers flex over the fabric of my jacket and I stayed put, a ringing in my ears that left me lightheaded. This- this wasn't normal; it wasn't us. We just didn't do this sort of thing, and certainly not this long.

"A-Alfred," I muttered into his ear, Alfred flinching when my breath touched him. He cleared his throat once more, sniffed, and pulled back away from me, enough to see my face as his hands still rested on my shoulders when he noticed this, too, trying to come off as casual but failing miserably. I looked at him and he looked at me and I knew we both felt the static between us.

I got a quick flash of the swing set before Alfred left for college, the same expression on his face now as it was then when our fingers nearly wove together, and I knew this just wasn't normal. This wasn't what our friendship used to feel like before college.

And what was worse, I knew Alfred knew that too when he lightly brushed a chunk of snow from my hair.

And then we were on opposite ends of the sidewalk, staring at our shoes and only managing to breathe through our nostrils.

"We should get back," I said, and Alfred nodded quickly, moving for his car.

Even the ride back was silent, but this time I welcomed it, for I knew that for once in my life words would be worse, much, much worse.

I didn't see Alfred for a few days and I was completely fine with that. We hadn't talked since Christmas Eve and the silence was deafening. But I believed we were both just uncertain of how to act. I gradually chalked the hug Alfred gave me as a momentary weakness of high school coming back to him from seeing the picture. The feeling I got that made my stomach twist signaled otherwise but I just told it to shut the fuck up.

It was December twenty-eighth when I finally decided to text Alfred, asking how his Christmas went. I gawked at the text I received a few minutes later.

Great. I spent Christmas in my car :)

I had called Alfred and he sounded like there was something on his mind that was bothering him so I asked if he wanted to go do something. Needless to say, he was in my driveway with his rumbling engine ten minutes later.

I shut the door behind me and glanced over at my friend staring at my garage door, ignoring the seat buckle in favor of the emotions swirling behind his eyes.

"Merry Christmas?" I offered, which at least got Alfred to look at me. He smiled but it didn't quite reach his eyes, you know, it being his plastic smile that always got under my skin.

"Merry Christmas."

I sighed and pulled at a loose string on his seat to do something to occupy my hands with. "What happened this time?"

Alfred grinned a bitter looking grin at me. "Oh, you know, Ma and Pa had another little tiff."

I frowned distastefully at him. "You got into another fight with your parents?"

Alfred shook his head, his smile falling as he tapped at his steering wheel. "No, not my parents. I actually haven't fought with them in a long time."

"Matthew, then?"

He shook his head.

I furrowed my brows at his vagueness. "Then I am completely lost. If you didn't fight with anyone, then what was the problem?"

Alfred was silent for a minute, twirling a finger around his key ring and glancing at me from the corner of his eyes. "I heard my parents going at it," he said after a long while.

Oh. Oh, I knew how that went. Nothing like a holiday to bring out arguments amongst the family. I understood why it bothered Alfred so much; no child liked hearing their parents fight about personal things that were supposed to remain away from their reality. I could only imagine what Alfred's parents would fight about.

"School," he spoke, watching me with a distant sense of amusement. I briefly wondered when he began reading my mind. "They were arguing about school. And what's funnier is that my dad brought it up."

"They don't want to pay for your schooling anymore?" I asked, my hackles raised. After only a semester and they were pulling out? What kind of parents would give up on their child after reassuring them that they could be–

"Woah, calm down, Arthur," Alfred said, raising his hands at my apparent abhorrence to the idea. It must've showed on my face because he smiled a small smile this time. "That's not what I heard. At least I don't think that's what I heard. My dad actually was trying to give Matt some money."

Well. That certainly didn't compute. "I thought your father was against that?" I asked, raising an uncertain eyebrow. Alfred ran a hand through his hair and looked back at the garage.

"Yeah, I thought so, too. But I guess he changed his mind or something. Holiday spirit or crap like that, I guess."

My hands had nothing else to do when the string snapped and I chewed at my lip, the side that wasn't still bruised. "Do you want him to go?"

"Yeah," Alfred said too quickly. "Yeah, I do. It's not fair if it's just me, and God knows he can't stay here anymore 'cause of- Well, he can't stay here, that's for sure." Alfred paused, slowly turning to look at me and I could clearly see residual hurt that had never been healed with his family in his face. "My mom doesn't think Mattie's okay to go out on his own right now after his teacher… after his- his teacher–"

"Alfred, you don't have to say–"

"Killed himself," Alfred said, almost gagging on the word. He winced. "And what I did. She's scared to leave him out of her sight. And I thought she was bad with just me, but she's blaming the whole thing on him, like he's crazy, too, and he might go off and jump in front of a car or something. My dad disagrees, but then I heard her say…" He stopped, taking a breath and glaring at his steering wheel like it committed a great betrayal to him. "She said that she doesn't want Matt ending up screwed up. She doesn't want him ending up like me, and that got my dad to back off."

I didn't quite know what to say to Alfred when he was looking so dejected. I think he knew his mother was ruined because of his incident in high school, but it was an entirely different thing to hear it aloud. And worst of all she hadn't a clue that Alfred had overheard her hidden feelings of unease and distress.

How was someone supposed to comfort a person like this?

I reached out awkwardly to pat his shoulder reassuringly but stopped and pulled it back at the memory of the sledding trip. Something akin to fright dwelled deep inside and I figured it was best not to engage it if at all possible.

"I'm sure she was just caught up in the moment–" Alfred shook his head vigorously, refusing to acknowledge me. I inhaled and cocked my head to the side. "You're not someone a person wouldn't want to aspire to be, Alfred." Alfred seemed to hesitate a moment, eyes darting in small patterns against the steering wheel. I leaned in a bit closer and craned my neck to get a look at his hunkered over face. "I for one would be proud to call you my friend."

At that Alfred finally looked at me, eyes so big and expecting that I had no choice but to do whatever would heal the scars deep inside him, not just the ones on his arms.

"You're not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?" he asked cautiously.

I snorted and sat back up. "As if I need to, crybaby."

Alfred made a garbled sound in the back of his throat that sounded like a sad excuse for laughter before he shook his head and put the car into reverse. "You're such a prick."

"And you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

Alfred barked out a laugh, pulling out of my driveway and going down the street. For a moment everything seemed to settle back to familiar patterns; we didn't feel any residual strangeness or that awkward thrill that consumed the moment since he had left for Brown. For that second we were just Arthur and Alfred, Alfred and Arthur.

Best chums until proven otherwise.

"I don't know about you, but I could use a pick-me-up," Alfred announced the further we got to the edge of town. I peered uncomfortably out the window when we drifted into the more shoddy business areas, the paint chipping slightly on the buildings, hardly any sensible person about.

"Define pick-me-up."

The grin Alfred threw at me gave me the shivers, and as the car lurched to a halt in front of the most outrageous looking liquor store I'd ever seen, I suddenly knew what he meant.

Ah, getting smashed it was, then.