Author's note: Second to last chapter.

Chapter 4

After the wedding, they went back to something similar to their old routine: meet up, go back to Arthur's place occasionally, all filled with Alfred's teasing and Arthur's quiet smiles. They seemed a little closer, but neither of them talked about it. They never talked about the wedding, either, or how that night in the hotel had made it feel like they almost had something real and normal.

About a week after they got back, Alfred became very busy. He only had time to stop by the bridge twice in the space of five days, and then only for a few minutes. The second time, he was distracted and babbling about a test he had barely passed, but he still noticed that Arthur seemed more quiet and serious than usual. Alfred paused in his long explanation and looked at Arthur curiously. "All you alright?"

Arthur glanced at him briefly and then back at a point in the distance. "Yes, I'm fine."

"You seem kinda quiet." Alfred took a step towards him but Arthur actually took a step back.

"It's nothing."

"Okay, if you say so," Alfred said uncertainly. He took one of Arthur's hands in his and gave it a little squeeze. He pecked Arthur on the cheek but Arthur barely reacted. "I gotta go, but I'll see you soon, yeah?"

"Yes," Arthur said.

Alfred was close enough to being late that he had to run all the way back to his apartment, but he couldn't help wondering what was going on with Arthur.

"Hey," Alfred called out the next time he saw Arthur.

Arthur looked up and smiled, though the smile was strained. "Hello," he said when Alfred got closer.

Alfred grinned. "You seem a bit peachier today."

"Hmm," Arthur said noncommittally. He was still smiling, though, so Alfred took that as a good sign.

Alfred took him into a hug, which made Arthur let out a small noise of surprise. "I just feel like I haven't seen in so long," Alfred mumbled into his hair by way of explanation. He let go and examined Arthur. Arthur looked up at him. He was squinting slightly and the bags under his eyes were very noticeable. Alfred was shocked. "Arthur, you look awful," Alfred said honestly. He couldn't keep the worry from his voice.

Arthur sighed a little and closed his eyes briefly. "I'm sorry. I'm just very tired."

"How come? Your jobs weren't tiring you out this much before."

Arthur shook his head slightly. "I had to take on longer hours. I'm still adjusting, that's all."

Alfred frowned. "You should quit the nightshift one. It can't be worth this."

Arthur just changed the subject. "How is school?"

"Fine. Busy part's over. But really, Arthur, you should get some more sleep."

Arthur smiled slightly. "I know."

"No, really." Alfred peered at him closely. "Like, you shouldn't be here. You should be sleeping right now."

Arthur sighed. "I can't."

"It's not that difficult. Just go lie down and take a nap. You don't need to feel like you should wait here for me."

"It's not that. I can't sleep during the day. My body just . . . won't shut down."

Alfred put a finger under his chin and tilted his head up. Arthur looked at him in the eyes. Alfred's gaze was searching and very worried. He brushed a thumb across Arthur's cheek and Arthur flinched. "Why do you always do that when I touch your face?" Alfred demanded.

"Sorry. I don't mean to." Arthur glanced away. "I know I have bags under my eyes. I had a boyfriend who used to bug me about them all the time."

"That's silly." Alfred's hand dropped away. "You can't help it. Come on. I'll take you back to my place and you can take a nap."

"I told you–" Arthur began, but Alfred took his hand and began to drag him resolutely off the bridge.

"I'm not letting you hurt yourself like this, Artie. You need sleep."

Alfred didn't catch the devastated look on Arthur's face.

Arthur tentatively let Alfred lead him into his apartment. It looked a little different than when he had been there last time. He finally realized this was because the kitchen table was covered with paper and a typewriter was sitting in the middle of it. "You have a typewriter?" he asked, half incredulously, half in awe.

Alfred grinned. "Sure do! Cheeper than printing scripts all the time, which is what I use it for."

"You don't just keep them on the computer?" Arthur was still looking at it distractedly as Alfred pushed him gently towards the couch.

"I don't think it's a script until it's on a piece of paper. Come on, up you go." Arthur obediently lay down on the couch while Alfred went to go find something. He returned a few minutes later with the blankets off his own bed. Arthur smiled gratefully at him for not making him sleep in his bed; Alfred had mentioned a roommate once and Arthur didn't want to be the cause of any embarrassing questions. Alfred had homework he had to do, so he brought it into the living room, sat down on the floor across from Arthur, and started working on it.

Arthur watched him for a while. He wasn't exactly taking this as seriously as it was clear Alfred expected him to; he knew he wasn't going to just fall asleep. Even so, it was nice to relax, and watching Alfred work was very relaxing. Alfred furrowed his brow frequently in thought, and his pencil would frequently end up with its end in his mouth. He wouldn't really chew on it, though, just sort of nibble on the end. It was possibly one of the most adorable things Arthur had ever seen. Arthur smiled a little. Alfred was so sweet. He didn't deserve him.

Arthur closed his eyes, simply because blinking was becoming an annoyance. Also, he had developed a headache at some point. Were he had Alfred dating? They had never talked about it, but really, he supposed they were. He had long stopped wondering what Alfred's motives might be. Casual sex was no stranger to him, if that was Alfred wanted – but the whole being friends thing had sort of messed with that theory (because, he supposed, Alfred was his friend now). Alfred was clearly sweet, and kind, and dedicated, which all suggested boyfriend material, so Arthur was good with that side of things, too. The future . . . well, Arthur had had a lot of practice in not thinking about the future. It wasn't too difficult to avoid it in this case, too.

Without his being aware of it, Arthur Kirkland drifted off to sleep.

Arthur woke to the noise of the front door opening and the sudden sound of voices. "–which is what I told him," Alfred's voice was saying. Arthur opened his eyes and was met with the sight of three people, only one of which he knew, staring at him.

"Hey, you're awake," Alfred said.

The one with the white hair and the red eyes grinned a pointy grin altogether too different from Alfred's. "Hello, gorgeous."

Arthur abruptly sat up and glared.

"This here's Arthur," Alfred said as he closed the door behind them. "He was having trouble sleeping so I let him come over and take a nap."

"It's nice to meet you," said the third member of the party, a short, boyish-looking man with light brown hair and blue eyes. He hung shyly to the back of the trio.

"This is Toris, my roommate," Alfred said, pointing at the man who had just spoken, "And that's Gilbert." Gilbert grinned. "We were going to have a melee." Arthur blinked. "Uh, play some computer games."

There was a moment of silence. "Oh," Arthur suddenly said, and stood up. He let the blanket fall carelessly on the floor. "You'll need the couch, then."

Gilbert laughed. "Sharp one, Al."

Arthur flushed angrily. "I'll be going then," he snapped, and grabbed his coat off the back of the couch.

"No, wait," Alfred said, looking surprised at the suggestion, "Don't do that. You can just sleep in my bed." Gilbert snickered.

"No thanks," Arthur said crisply.

"Really, Artie," Alfred said, but Arthur had already thrown on his coat and was pushing past them.

"Thanks for letting me stay here," Arthur muttered, and disappeared out the door.

"So that's him," Gilbert said with a grin as the door snapped shut.

Alfred came over to Arthur's flat a few hours later. Arthur would have liked to have pretended to be at work, or at least not at home, but Alfred said, "Arthur?" in his sad voice after he knocked, and Arthur lost his will to be mean. He opened the door clothed only in sweats and an old t-shirt. Alfred's mouth dropped open.

"What?" Arthur demanded irritably, both to Alfred's presence at his door and his strange look.

"I've never seen you something so casual before."

"I've been trying to sleep." Arthur looked at him dully. The bags under his eyes looked almost worse because his hair was so disheveled and his skin so pale.

Alfred's look of concern returned full-force. "You weren't asleep, were you?"

"No."

"Okay, I was just coming over to see if you were okay, but clearly you aren't." Alfred half pushed Arthur back inside and closed the door behind him. "You didn't have to leave, you know."

"I wouldn't have been able to sleep with the sound of you blowing up things, anyway," Arthur said. He turned and walked over to his bed. He sat down against the headboard and pulled his knees up to his chest. He looked away. "Well, to be honest . . . I can't say I really wanted to meet your friends."

Alfred settled down next to him on the bed. "Why not? You might like them. I don't know, but you can't know until you try, right?"

Arthur sighed. "Alfred, I hardly think they'd like me. I'm not . . . that part of your life."

Alfred took Arthur's hand in his own and threaded their fingers together. He looked at Arthur with big, hopeful eyes. "Well, you couldbe." Arthur looked surprised. "I mean, at the beginning of all this I said I was interested in you, and I haven't given up, right? So . . . what do you say? Do you want to be my boyfriend, officially?"

Arthur smiled a little, though there was a touch of sadness to it. "I would love to, but I think it would be a bad idea."

"What? Why?" Alfred looked heartbreakingly sad.

"You're going to graduate soon," Arthur said gently. He gave Alfred's hand a little squeeze. "You want to go back to the States, don't you?"

Alfred made a face. "That's besides the point."

"No, it's not. Do you want to move back?"

Alfred sighed. "Kinda. I mean, it was home, and it still kinda is, I guess, but I like it here too."

Arthur actually chuckled a little. "I don't see why."

Alfred frowned at Arthur. Arthur obligingly raised an eyebrow curiously. "Don't be so self-deprecating all the time."

"Oh, big word." Arthur closed his eyes. He was still very tired, whether he liked it or not.

"Don't be like that."

"I'm not. And I was talking about England, not me."

"They're the same thing."

Arthur frowned and his eyes opened a crack. "What?"

Alfred smiled at him. "You don't really think I'd stay here because I like the weather, do you?"

Arthur's eyes snapped open and he glared at Alfred. "What?"

Alfred's smile fell. "Uh, I like you and I might want to stay with you?"

"No," Arthur said flatly. He looked almost terrifying in his angry and sleep-deprived state. "You cannot sacrifice your happiness just to keep me company."

Alfred sat up now. He looked thoroughly confused. "I wouldn't be? I wouldn't say this if I didn't want to be with you, Arthur."

"You just said that you don't like England, or its weather, and that you'd rather be back in the States. One person cannot determine your happiness, Alfred." Alfred started to speak, but Arthur cut him off. "I am not making this up. I've been through this before. If you always want to be back home – and don't give me that crap about home is where the heart is, because I've seen how much you love your country – you are never going to be truly happy away from it. If you decide to stay here–" Arthur gripped Alfred's hand so tightly his nails dug into his wrist– "It will be the biggest mistake of your life."

"First of all," Alfred said, making no move to remove Arthur's hand, "I didn't say those things, you did. Second of all, being back in the States is not at all as important to me as you seem to think it is."

"What if something happens and we can't be together anymore?" Arthur asked. "You'll regret it, you'll be unhappy, and you'll blame me."

"Of course not." Alfred was starting to sound angry now. "This is 100% my decision."

"If I'm involved, it's mine too," Arthur said flatly. He let go of Alfred's wrist. Alfred automatically took it in his other hand and began to smooth out the red marks.

"Well then explain to me your objections, because I don't get it! If you don't like me, just reject me already!"

Arthur looked like he had been slapped. "It's not like that."

"Then what is it like?"

Arthur sighed heavily. Suddenly, he looked exhausted all over again. "I don't want either of us to get hurt, and if you stay here because of me, that's exactly what you'll be. I can't make you happy."

"What? Of course you can." Alfred looked so honest it nearly broke his heart. "I've been happier since I met you than I have been for a long time. You don't have to do anything, I just am."

"This–" Arthur spread his hand out at them, lying there in bed. "This is exactly what I mean. It makes you feel good to think you're helping me, I understand that, I really do, but you can't. This sleep thing, for example; I've tried everything, even drugs." Alfred looked scandalized. "Sleeping pills, not real drugs," Arthur snapped. "The sooner you figure out that you can't magically make me happy, the sooner you're going to realize that a longterm relationship with me is not what you want. If you can't make me happy, I can't make you happy."

"But I can make you happy!" Alfred whined. "I have been, haven't I? You've been smiling more than when I met you. And Liz said–" Alfred hesitated.

Arthur's frown deepened. "What did Liz say?"

"She said she thought this – us – would be good for you." Alfred set his mouth mulishly. "I think she was right."

Arthur was quiet for a moment. "I like spending time with you," he said quietly, "But I have issues that you don't need to deal with. I may be happy now, but it's just now. And don't look at me like that. I don't need to be . . . fixed. I don't want you to try to, and you're going to."

Alfred shook his head. "I won't do anything that you don't want me to do. I can keep you from being lonely. Isn't that enough?"

"No!" Arthur shouted. There was a pain in his eyes that Alfred had never seen before. "Because then you're going to decide that I need to be on medication, and see a therapist, and fuck it Alfred, you can't help me." Arthur wiped his eyes with the palm of his hand. He refused to acknowledge why; he most certainly was not crying. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and then he was being pulled close against Alfred's chest.

"I can help you," Alfred said firmly. The words vibrated through his chest. "I won't try to fix everything if you tell me not to, but I can keep you from being lonely." He gently took Arthur's hands away from his eyes and wiped away his tears. "I'm not going to leave you. I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," Arthur whispered.

Alfred smiled into his hair. Arthur could feel it. "Give me a chance and we'll see who's right. Deal?"

Arthur was silent for a moment. "Deal," he finally said with a sigh. He let his head rest against Alfred's chest. Alfred hugged him close for a moment and then pulled back the covers. Arthur obediently lay down. Alfred slid under the covers next to him.

"Comfy?" Alfred asked.

"Very," Arthur replied. There was a moment of silence. He closed his eyes. "Talk to me."

"Talk to you, huh?" Alfred chewed his lip in thought.

"Tell me why you came to England." Arthur could already feel the tension draining out of his body.

Alfred laughed a little. "I thought I told you already." Arthur merely hummed in response. "Well, I wanted to get away from my family." Alfred sighed and scooted a little closer. His hair brushed Arthur's cheek. "They thought I was wasting my time."

"With what?"

"Screenwriting. You know, for a while I wanted to be a firefighter, and they were just like, 'Okay honey, sounds good.' Then I started thinking about movies, and maybe screenwriting, but I wasn't sure so I mentioned that I wanted to be in the movie business. They just sort of nodded and smiled and said it sounded great. When I was applying to college, though, I started really thinking about it and about all the stories I'd tried to write and I decided, you know what, this is what I really want to do. I finally found a place that had good classes for it, and I applied and got in, and – and then I had to declare my major." Alfred buried his nose in Arthur's hair. "They were pissed."

"So you left?" Arthur asked absently. "Why didn't you stick it out? Were you living at home?"

Alfred grumbled. "It didn't matter. I was close enough they could yell at me in person no matter what."

"So you thought an ocean and a time difference would help."

"Yeah."

Arthur smiled a little. "Did it?"

"Well, now they're so mad at me they just don't talk to me at all, so yeah."

"Hmm." Arthur reached over and ran his fingers through Alfred's hair. "There, there." Alfred sighed heavily in response and leaned into his touch. They were quiet for a while. Arthur dozed and Alfred fell completely asleep. At some point, Arthur disentangled himself from Alfred and checked the time.

Alfred woke up and peered at him groggily. "What time is it?"

"Late enough I should get up soon." Arthur stroked a hand through Alfred's hair. "Not yet, though."

Alfred was quiet for a moment. "You know," he said finally, "I haven't read one of your poems in a while. I get to ask a question, right? Have you ever written a poem about a person? Not like for Liz and Roddy's wedding. Like . . . a love poem."

Arthur's fingers stilled for a moment, and then resumed their work. "You can't read it," he warned Alfred.

"But the answer's yes, then."

All the time, Arthur thought, as he thought of all the little pieces of poetry that always tugged at his attention when Alfred was near. "Yes."

"Do you think . . ." Alfred seemed to be struggling with his words. "Do you think it's fair to write about people? When you don't tell them?"

"I don't think being 'fair' really comes into it," Arthur said quietly. "If you feel like you need to, then you should."

Alfred made a thoughtful noise. "It's funny you said 'need.'"

"Well, that's what it's like for me."

Alfred looked at him thoughtfully and then kissed him. Arthur closed his eyes at the pleasant sensation. "So we're dating now, right?"

"If you like. It might take me a little while to get used to it," Arthur warned him with a smile.

Alfred grinned, the first time he had in a while. "I can wait. I should let you get dressed."

Arthur nodded. "I'll see you later."

"Yup." Alfred got out of bed and pulled on his shoes. He touched Arthur's cheek briefly. "Take care of yourself, Arthur."

Alfred's writing habits were very irregular. Usually he'd grab his typewriter when inspiration struck and just write until he was done. However, when he got home that night, he sat on his bed and put the typewriter in front of him. He bit his lip thoughtfully and started typing. Sometimes the words came easily, and sometimes he would type out, word by painful word, a whole line.

Ting. Carriage return.

Alfred stayed up late and went through 20 pages of paper that night. He slept in and nearly missed all his classes.