Chapter 4
Why Me?
"Hi!"
Arthur stared at the man standing in front of his front door with a smile brighter than a thousand goddamned suns; a smile that could make you squint if you did not have proper sunglasses.
"What are you doing here? " Arthur asked as he stared out his doorway trying to comprehend why the blond was there in the first place; there at five-thirty in the morning to be exact. He was lucky Arthur just so happened to be pulling an all-nighter and wasn't already on his desk passed out from exhaustion. Otherwise, there would have been hell to pay. At least from Francis that is.
"I came to get my jacket!" Alfred laughed loudly. "Boy, you forget everything don't you?"
That's right. The blond had left his jacket with him the other day and he hadn't returned it yet. He had been meaning to returning it, but he just got so caught up with his writing that he had almost completely forgotten about it. So much that weeks had literally gone by without him even realizing that the younger blond was probably freezing his skin off every time he went outside. The thought made the author frown as he examined the lightly clothed Alfred standing there slightly shivering while smiling that goofy smile. And if he looked carefully, he could see the younger blond's teeth clattering.
"Fine, fine. Come in." Arthur stepped aside and nodded. "I don't want to be responsible if you catch a cold."
"Thanks, Pops." Alfred smiled and shook off the snow on his body like a dog as he made his way in, wetting Arthur and causing a scoff from the man.
"And be careful." Arthur warned.
"Of what?"
The older man pinched the bridge of his nose and closed the front door. "Nevermind. Just take your shoes off here." he pointed at the black rug in front of the door.
As soon as Alfred walked into the living room, he marveled at how tidy the author kept the room. Stereotypically, he thought Arthur's possessions would be all over the place because of his job and because of the unorganized nature of authors in general. "Wow, I'm surprised you're this tidy." he snickered, resulting in a grumble from Arthur.
The Briton felt slightly insulted since all his life he had been praised for his cleanliness. "And why is that?" he yanked the scarf off of Alfred's neck harshly, causing the other boy to yelp in surprise.
"It's just...I thought all writers were messy people."
"Well, you're wrong." he folded the long scarf up and placed it neatly on the couch. Alfred rolled his eyes while thinking how ridiculous it was to fold up a scarf so neatly when it was going to be messed up again anyways.
"Well, sorry. What are you doing up so early anyways?" Alfred yawned and sat down on a fancy couch adjacent to the fireplace and in front of the coffee table, which was bigger and much more fancier than the one in Alfred's apartment.
"I have been working on my novel." he made his way over to the spot his laptop was seated on the beige sectional sofa and lifted it up so he could take a seat there himself. He raised an eyebrow at Alfred. "You can sit over here you know. You don't have to be so far away."
Alfred smiled widely and practically pounced on the spot next to Arthur. "A famous author asking me to sit next to him? Wow, today is a good day." he laughed. He laid down and propped his chin on his palms.
Arthur simply snorted and resumed typing, until he noticed a nosy blond trying to peer around the screen.
"What do you think you're doing?" he moved the device away from Alfred while covering the screen with his free hand.
"Can't I look? You know I can't wait until the next one comes out!" he whined as he tried to lean closer to Arthur's laptop.
"You are being rather rude!"
"Lemme see!"
"I said no!"
"Please? I won't spoil it for anyone!"
Arthur growled at the blond that was practically leaning his whole body weight on him and logged off from his laptop, making the screen returning to the bluish-green Vista login splash page asking for a password. He knew locking his laptop with a password would be useful someday.
"NO!" Alfred wailed.
The writer smirked and closed his laptop. "I'd rather not get any work done over having someone read my stuff before it officially comes out." he spoke triumphantly. He patted the top of his laptop to emphasize that there was no way in hell he would show the younger blond his ideas.
Alfred pouted and moved off the older man. "I just wanted to know what it was about. I don't see what the big deal is. You know how much I love your writing." he crossed his arms in almost a childish manner.
Arthur chuckled at the compliment, even if it did have an angry undertone to it. "Sorry lad. I can't let anyone read it. Not even my..." he swallowed and blushed slightly. "...number one fan." he ran a hand through his hair with embarrassment.
Alfred's face lit up almost immediately. "You really think I'm your number one fan?" he smiled and pointed at himself. "Me? Alfred F. Jones?"
"Yes, yes. Now will you stop bothering me?" the author cleared his throat, hoping that the compliment would distract Alfred enough for him to leave him alone. But that was only partly true. The author really did believe that Alfred was his number one fan since he had never met anyone quite like him before. He was almost a fictional depiction of a typical fan who would fawn over their favourite actor or artist who had come to life. Needless to say, it was funny to watch for Arthur so he didn't complain. He just laughed at the younger one's childish nature. "Besides, if I spoilt it for you now, then you probably wouldn't be as excited when it actually does come out."
"Alright." he laughed bashfully. "If you put it that way then how can I resist."
"Good that you understand."
"But..." Alfred began. "I would still be excited even if I was spoiled. I told you I was a big fan didn't I?"
Arthur blinked and tried to compose himself so he wouldn't end up looking like a smiling schoolboy who was excited over a girl he fancied or whatever little schoolboys were excited over these days. "I...I suppose. Thank you." he rubbed his nose awkwardly and smiled.
Alfred just simply grinned and Arthur could have sworn he felt his heart skip a beat. Maybe he really wasn't used to these compliments after all. Being cooped up in a big house alone for so many years made him more susceptible to compliments no matter how simple they were. In other words, it didn't take too much to make the author happy since he was never cherished for anything that he did when he was a child to begin with anyways.
Arthur nodded and placed his laptop aside. He would have to work on it when the youth left unless he wanted another session of the heavier Alfred towering over him and practically squishing him in the process. "Alfred, why exactly are you here so early anyways? You know you could come by at a later time if it's too early for you. Do you really need your jacket that bad?" he looked at the boy sternly as he tried to change the subject. "A lack of sleep isn't good for your health." he lectured, getting a like-you-should-talk look from Alfred.
"Because I couldn't sleep!"
Arthur raised his eyebrow. "Oh. And why is that?"
Alfred chuckled and pulled his bag up from the floor. "Because I was super excited to show you something." he opened his bag and rummaged through it, sparking some curiosity from the older man.
"You know how all of your novel covers are nature themed right?"
"Yes..." Arthur raised an eyebrow. He was somewhat understanding what Alfred was trying to get at, but he wasn't so sure just yet.
Alfred pulled out a box and placed it in front of Arthur. "I thought maybe I could do a cover for you!"
"You..."
"Yeah! Here, take a look!" he yanked the cover open with a bunch of developed photos piled one on top of another. "I went out a couple of days ago to take a picture for your cover but then I ended taking so many that I had to develop them all. I couldn't choose which would be the best for you!" he sat forward and blushed. "It was cold out too, so you better like them." he joked.
"Alfred, you...!" he picked them up and looked through them. "...my God, lad. This is incredible! You didn't have to go through all of that effort." he looked at him sadly as he imagined a lightly clothed Alfred out all day in the cold weather photographing something for his sake. Him, Arthur Kirkland, who had become a cynical bastard over the years after he had given up on all kindness in humanity according to his older brothers.
"It's alright! I had fun!"
Arthur smiled at him and looked through all the youth's beautiful works of art. He could sit there all day just looking at the photos over and over again and just let a wave of inspiration hit him until he was washed off the shore of reality; until that wave drowns him in a sea of fantasy where he can sleep for eternity without the harsh world bothering him; without the faults of reality welcoming him back into a world where those thoughts and ideas are merely fantasies resulted from a desperate desire to be rid of reality. Yes, he could just sit there day in and day out just listening to nothing but the sound of photographs flipping with his grandfather clock in the back just ticking away and reminding him that he was indeed passing time in a place he did not want to leave.
His fantasy place.
His smile grew wider as he continued looking through the giant pile. The boy was just a genius. He even managed to make a couple of footsteps in the snow look beautiful. Most people that he knew at best could photograph something and then run in through a photo editing program to make it look like there was good lighting or that there wasn't a flaw in something they photographed. But Alfred was genuine. He did not need all that technological hocus-pocus to make everything look beautiful. Instead, the youth managed to capture the natural beauty of whatever he pointed his camera at. It did not look fake like most photographs he had seen. And Arthur was a pro at spotting what was fake and not fake even if it was a million miles away. Again, another advantage that came with years of isolation.
He came to the last few photographs and was about the ask Alfred to leave the whole box with him so he could decide on which photograph to use, until he spotted the very last one that nearly made him choke on his own spit. No, scratch that. It almost made him choke on the very air he was breathing because it was so overwhelming that he could have screamed in embarrassment if it hadn't been such a sweet gesture of Alfred. However, Alfred hadn't noticed since he covered the picture up quickly with the other photos on top of it.
"So have you decided?" the younger blond grinned.
Arthur tried to contain himself from the photo he had just seen and smiled. "Not yet, lad! Do you mind if I kept the box for a while?"
Alfred blinked. "You're actually considering this? Sure you can!"
Arthur thanked Alfred and set the box down on the coffee table. He was relieved that it seemed like the younger blond didn't notice him looking at the last picture in the collection. If he did, he would have seen Arthur's sudden pause and most likely would have questioned him about his reaction.
"S-say, do you want any tea?" Arthur asked as he tried to cleared his mind of all thoughts of that blasted photo.
"Coffee please." Alfred reminded the Briton of their previous conversation from weeks ago about tea and coffee.
"Right, right. Coming up." Arthur left to make some. He hadn't made coffee in God knows how long, so he wasn't sure if he could still do it without destroying the whole kitchen.
XXX
"How's the coffee?"
Alfred did his best to not scrunch up his face too much at the overly bitter beverage so he just nodded and took a small sip. "It's...fine."
The Briton nodded at him suspiciously, sensing the younger man's possible dislike with the taste but chose to ignore it instead.
It was already eight o'clock in the morning. Exactly two and a half hours since Alfred had been at his house and for some reason, Arthur didn't want him to leave just yet. They were having too much fun chatting that the Briton didn't care if he had to have some work done at the time. Even if the "chatting" consisted of Alfred teasing Arthur and the author in turn bickering and telling Alfred off, it was the best company he had in a long time. All he wanted was to stay like that with Alfred for the whole day. Perhaps Francis was right after all, he really did need the company.
"So I was freezing my butt off, when my friend Kiku finally told me that I should call it a night. I think he was worried that I might catch a cold or something." he laughed. "You should meet the guy, you two are kinda similar. Well, only because you both act like old men." he snorted as Arthur shook his head disapprovingly at the comment.
"He does sound like a nice fellow." he scratched his chin. "And this is the same one you met online?" he asked recalling Alfred telling him about a certain friend online that helped him get a home in London.
"Yep! That's him!"
Arthur smiled at the fact that there was someone other than himself that the youth knew in a big place like London. At least that way, he wouldn't have to be alone in such a giant city with no one and nowhere to call home. He knew that feeling all too well and he wouldn't wish that same kind of suffering upon any one else. It was simply just too scary of a thought.
"Well now, why don't you bring him along the next time I have a book signing. I mean if you don't decide to kidnap me to a park again." he smirked.
"No problem!" he laughed and out of habit took a sip out of his warm coffee which caused a grimace as a result.
Arthur ran his hand through his locks and sighed tiredly. He had been absolutely tired the whole week. The fact that he finally had some time to relax was nice for a change. Especially because it was with someone who understood his perspective on literature. Maybe he was giving the boy too much credit because of his bias towards photography, but still, Alfred wasn't like anyone he had ever met; a point that he had told himself over and over again. He liked how at their first meeting, the younger man didn't treat him like some sort of superior entity just because of his well known status in the public. Sure, he praised him for his work and asked for an autograph, but Arthur was treated more like a friend the entire time. No hierarchy involved, no subordination, and most definitely none of the whole "I'm better than you or I'm lesser than you" crap. He felt comfortable enough around Alfred that he could easily call him a friend; something that was hard to come by for Arthur nowadays.
"Don't you get lonely in this big ol'house?" Alfred suddenly asked, breaking the momentary silence between them.
Arthur looked up from his tea and sighed. Who wouldn't ask him that? A twenty-three year old living in such a big place while most people his age either lived with a friend or lover and partied it up every night as the Americans would say. Not cooped up in a big place alone living like an old man. He glanced around the giant place that was way too big to be occupied by a single man. Five bedrooms, three floors with the exception of the basement, three bathrooms, a backyard big enough to look like a mini park, a big kitchen on each floor that he was terrified of using whenever he had to cook, and so on. Definitely way too big for a single person. But he was so used to living in a big place since he was little that a small apartment just wouldn't feel right. Luckily the amount he was making as an author was more than enough to help pay it off.
"I suppose." he sipped his tea. "I mean how can anybody not be lonely from living alone for seven years?" he chuckled. "Especially in this place."
"You got me there." Alfred sighed with depression. "I also know that feeling all too well."
Arthur nodded after realizing what Alfred was referring to and chose not to question the youth further about his past. He was always the type that preferred it when people chose to open up to him rather than pry into people's lives when they were not ready to let anyone in. After all, that is the type of person he was, so he knew firsthand how that felt.
"Anyways, Alfred. I'll go make us some breakfast. So just sit tight." Arthur grabbed his cup and headed for the kitchen. The conversation they were having was getting a bit too depressing and most likely too personal as well. Alfred's expression practically screamed for a change of subject, even if he was the one who brought it up in the first place.
"Oh, you need help?"
"That's alright. I'm pretty good at cooking." he smiled back at Alfred and disappeared into the kitchen. According to his experience, food was the most appropriate thing to overcome depression. At least temporarily.
Alfred smiled but for some reason felt a sudden bad feeling in the pit of his stomach that he usually got after eating something bad. But he decided to ignore it when the doorbell went off.
"Yo, Artie. Should I get that?" Alfred called out to him as he started making his way to the doorway.
"Yes, that's probably Francis." he called back. "Might s well let that frog faced bastard in." he added as he mumbled.
"What was that?"
"Nothing. Just answer the door please."
Alfred shrugged and jogged over to the door. He unlocked it, expecting the long haired man with the stubble from the bookstore, but what was staring back at him made Alfred blink a few times questionably and almost laugh out loud at the hilarious sight before him.
"Why hello there!"
Alfred was taken back by the cheerful voice addressing him that it took him a while to actually react properly.
"Oh, uh...hi!" he kept staring. Out of all the weird things he had seen in his lifetime none of them had topped the little boy smiling back at him that very moment. He looked around thirteen and Alfred couldn't help but wonder why a little boy would be at Arthur's door. He was wearing a sailor outfit, so maybe he was like those girl scouts back in America who went door-to-door selling cookies or asking for donations. But it was way too early for that, so maybe he got lost on his way to school and needed directions? Or maybe he was someone Arthur knew? That had to be it! He had those same bushy eyebrows as the author's and almost looked like a miniature version of him. Only not...more like a miniature version of both Alfred and Arthur combined since he had the same blue eyes as the photographer. Not to mention, his hair resembled Alfred's smooth locks more instead of Arthur's bedhair. Actually, now that he thought about it, he looked liked their lovechild.
Alfred blushed at the thought. "Get your head out of the gutter you idiot." he smacked himself on the cheek, startling the boy in front of him.
"Good day isn't it?" the little boy beamed as he glanced in the house. "Is my big brother around?"
Of course! How could he not have thought that maybe he was his brother? He can be so dense sometimes."Yeah! Come on in! He's just in the kitchen!" Alfred beckoned him in as if it was his own house. The thought of him owning a place that big made him giddy just from imagining it.
"Oh, great!" he exclaimed and as soon as he walked in, he dropped all of his belongings and ran straight to the kitchen while calling out his brother's name loudly.
"ARTHUR! ARTHUR! ARTHUR!"
Arthur poked his head out of the kitchen. "Peter?" he put down everything and jogged out into the living room.
Alfred walked back into the living room with a smile, expecting a warm reunion between the brothers that he had longed for with his own. He was expecting little Peter to run over to Arthur and the man in return scooping him up and twirling him around like in those movies. However, Arthur grabbed the hair on top of the little boy's head and yanked it hard instead of running over to embrace him the way Alfred expected. If the photographer did not cover his mouth with his hand, he would have screamed a loud "Oh my God!" at Arthur.
"What the devil are you doing here?" he shouted harshly while his younger brother complained and yelled in pain. "You have school, you dolt!"
Alfred was dumbstruck.
"I snuck out the house to come see you!" he whined. "Let go!"
Arthur sighed and released his hair. "You know father forbade you from ever coming to see me. Why do you keep doing this?"
"That stung, you bully. And not only was that unnecessary, it was quite rude!" he retorted as he rubbed the top of his head to sooth the pain. "And father can mind his own business."
Arthur crouched down to his level and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Peter...you know how much trouble you get in whenever father finds you sneaking off here. Do you want to get hit again?"
'Hit?' Alfred thought with terror. What kind of family did they have? Alfred kept thinking that maybe Arthur was hit too when he lived with them, so that was why he moved out.
"But I don't like being there. I'm never allowed to do anything." he pouted sadly, protesting the older man's effort to make him go home.
Arthur glanced at Alfred and the other blond just smiled nervously in return, trying not to seem too fazed at the hitting and whatnot mentioned.
"That's no reason to skip school. You'll be in a lot of trouble." he stated firmly while keeping his stern gaze on his younger brother.
"Then let me stay! They'll definitely find out I skipped if you kick me out now!" he begged, obviously using school as an excuse to pester Arthur.
"Jesus..." Arthur mumbled as he rested the front of his head on his palm. "The answer is no, Peter."
Alfred stepped over to Peter and padded the saddened boy's head. "Aw, come on, Artie. How often does he get to stay here with you anyways?" he smiled at Peter who in turn looked up at Alfred with teary eyes.
"Ugh. Stay out of this, Alfred." he warned the taller blond. Arthur always had a pet peeve about people meddling in his personal life, especially if they didn't know what exactly went on with him and his family. But the taller blond just grumbled and pressed on.
"Well, the last time I checked, wanting to spend time with someone you care about isn't a bad thing." Alfred smiled at Peter, earning a sigh of defeat from Arthur. "Am I right, buddy?" he asked Peter and the younger boy nodded up at him.
Arthur placed his hand on his face and grumbled something about how bloody troublesome the two blonds in front of him were. "You know what? I'm too tired to argue." he waved his hand tiredly. "Peter, make sure to not let father know you were here. Alright?" he cautioned.
Peter beamed and practically jumped when he heard the good news. "Of course! Oh thank you!"
"Right, right." Arthur nodded towards them and placed his hands on his hips. "In exchange, I expect you be on your best behaviour alright? Alfred," he turned to the taller blond standing next to Peter. "could you keep him company while I make breakfast?"
Alfred goofily saluted and shouted a "yes sir" that made Peter giggle. Arthur merely shook his head and commented on how similar the two boys' personalities were and headed back in the kitchen. It has been a while since Peter had someone to keep him company so he didn't mind Alfred staying with him for a bit. He knew all too well that even though his younger brother lived with his older siblings, they would never give him the time of the day he needed. Besides, Peter seemed to have taken a liking to Alfred at first sight and that was very rare for the boy. Usually Peter would withdraw himself completely at the sight of a stranger, but for some reason he was fine with Alfred and that made Arthur inwardly smile. Partly because Alfred was able to take Peter off his hands for a while since the boy can be quite a handful when riled up, but mostly because he hadn't seen Peter smile very much in the rare instances that the boy snuck over to his place after he had left home. It was a nice change for once.
"Wow, who woulda thought someone like Arthur would be related to someone as bubbly as you!" he joked and gave Peter a noogie, resulting in the younger boy laughing loudly and begging Alfred to stop.
"Are you my brother's friend?" Peter asked earnestly.
"Well, we just met..." Alfred thought to himself as he scratched his chin. "...but I sure hope so! Your brother is really amazing." he flashed the younger boy another bright smile.
Peter hopped up on the couch behind him and went through his backpack. He pulled out a giant sketch book and opened it. "He really is. I wish I saw him more though." he hugged his book close to him, almost protecting it with everything he had.
Alfred took the seat next to him and looked at his book. "Oh yeah? You don't see each other too much?"
Peter frowned and Alfred was about to take back his question, but then he started to talk. "Father doesn't let me see him...so I have to sneak over."
The comment made something in Alfred's past bubble up in his throat that practically forced the young photographer to continue prodding for answers. If there was something troubling the kid, he wanted to be there to listen to him no matter what since he knew firsthand how it felt to not have a single soul there for him when he needed a shoulder to cry on. "Yeah, I did hear Arthur say something about not letting your pops know that you're over today."
Peter nodded. "Yes. He hits me whenever he finds out, so that's why brother was so upset."
That made Alfred shake his head in disgust. Who the hell hits a little kid, especially their own kid, who just wanted to see his own brother? Well, their father apparently and it made Alfred want to run over there himself and rearrange their so-called father's face. That is, if one can even call someone like that a father. His own parents were just as bad, but it didn't mean he didn't know what made a good parent and what made a shitty parent. He learned all of that crap in something called family studies in school and also through observing his friends' families. He glanced at Peter again and made a mental note to have a little talk with Arthur later.
"Peter, why does your father not let you see Arthur? Did he do something?" he knew he was treading on dangerous territory but he needed to know if he was going to somehow help them.
Peter shuffled in his seat and looked at Alfred uncomfortably. "I'm...I'm not supposed to talk about it. I'm sorry." he smiled sadly.
The taller blond merely nodded and retreated. It was alright. According to what he learned in family studies, one shouldn't force a child to speak about something they don't feel comfortable with anyways; even someone like Alfred who didn't pay attention for the majority of the class during the semester understood that.
"The only thing I can tell you is it was because of a friend my brother had." Alfred nodded again and questioned no further.
"It's okay." he patted Peter's head and reassured the child with comfort. So, a friend? A friend that was a bad influence on Arthur? It seemed ridiculous that the author's father would want nothing to do with his own son because of a friend he had. But that was something he would have to leave for later when he had a serious talk with Arthur. If he could not help, at least he would lend an ear to listen.
"So what's in the book?" Alfred changed the subject.
Peter held up the large sketch pad proudly. "It's my sketchbook!" he flipped open the book and showed Alfred what looked like panels of comics scribbled in the pages. If Alfred had to say so himself, the drawings were pretty good for Peter's age, and it seemed like the younger boy already understood paneling and story sequences judging by the way everything was organized in the book. Everything from the drawings to the words in the speech bubbles made the older blond look on with joy as he was hit with a wave of nostalgia reminding him of the comics he used to read as a kid. Alfred grinned to himself as he imagined Peter as the next Marvel comics artist from England. With Peter's present skills and his eventual development, it was highly possible that he could very well make it big time when he was older. Who knows, maybe he could be as famous as his brother.
"I want to be just like big brother!" he cheered and brought Alfred out of his focus on the little one's art.
"You do?"
Peter grinned and nodded excitedly. "I want to tell stories too! Except I want to tell stories through cool pictures about heroes saving everybody! You know, saving helpless people from evil!"
Alfred nearly fell off the couch from excitement at the mention about heroes. Since he was little, he had always dreamt of being a super hero who could save the day and help those in need. He had always imagined himself as the next Spider-man or Batman who could be the guardian angel watching over his beloved city like in the comics. But how could he do that when he couldn't even be there for his brother anymore? For fuck sakes, he couldn't even stand up to his parents let alone evil. But for some reason he felt that he couldn't hate even the most evil villain that existed in comics more than his parents. So perhaps they are the ultimate bad guys of all bad guys that even the most powerful heroes could not defeat. He could always dream about someday being able to have the guts to go home and give his brother that photo he was meant to have and tell him that he didn't mean to abandon him before wishing him a happy birthday. But that was only a dream; a dream that was distinct from reality.
"Wow, Peter. That's..." all he could do was smile. Peter was really like an embodiment of both Alfred and Arthur. Not just in the looks department, but an embodiment of both men's passions as well. Arthur told stories through beautiful words that can practically paint a vivid picture in your mind, Alfred used pictures to tell stories that words cannot describe, and Peter told stories with both beautiful pictures and words. It was remarkable how it wasn't until now that Alfred actually realized the combination of pictures and words that created the beloved comics he treasured when he was a kid; the way both elements combined to express what the other could not.
"My big brother was the reason I want to do this in the first place." Peter flipped to the next few pages to show Alfred. "He made me love story telling. I hope I can be just like him." he sighed warmly.
"Does he know this?" Alfred asked with curiosity. He could just imagine Arthur's embarrassed face after being told how much one admires him.
"Of course he does! I always tell him." Peter played with the bow on the front of his sailor uniform. "But he always tells me to go for something else..." he said sadly.
"I see..." Alfred looked at him sadly.
"Do you think he doesn't see me worthy?" Peter gripped the book and asked with a shaky voice as though he was ready to cry at any moment.
Alfred went quiet for a moment but then he shook his head. There was no way that that was the reason. "Nah, I doubt that." he smiled. "I have a feeling your big bro's just looking out for you. That's all."
Peter's eyes widened. "You think so?"
"Yeah definitely!" Alfred agreed. Even though him and Arthur had just met, he didn't think the older man would be the type who would look down on his little brother or anyone for that matter. He could tell even before meeting him that through his writing, he came off as a very protective individual. Cynical? Yes. Sarcastic? Definitely. But a douche bag? No. He was more of the type that cared but didn't like to show it because he wanted to save face. "I think he just wanted to protect you from your dad. I mean, you did say he wasn't exactly best buds with your old man, right?"
"That's right!"
"And I'm assuming, since your dad doesn't like Arthur too much, he wouldn't want you to be like him, right?"
"Yes, that does make sense!"
"Well, there you go." Alfred grinned triumphantly.
Peter hugged him. "Thank you!"
"No problem, buddy!" he ruffled his hair and hugged him back.
The younger boy hummed happily into Alfred's sweater. "By the way, what do you think of my brother?" the younger boy looked up while still hugging Alfred.
Alfred was taken back by the question as he stared at Peter, wondering why he suddenly asked him such a thing. He racked his head for some answers but it took him longer than he intended. It wasn't because Arthur was such a detestable guy that it was hard to come up with something likeable about the old grump. But it was because there was just too many good things Alfred could say about him that he had a hard time picking and choosing the right words to say.
"Well, let me see..." he finally spoke so Peter wouldn't think Alfred didn't fancy his brother as much as he thought. He finally gave up and just used one word to sum up everything he liked about him. "Well, he's totally awesome!" he laughed.
Peter blinked a couple of times before he gave Alfred a strange look of confusion. "I suppose that's a nice way to describe him."
"Well, there was just too many things I wanted to say and I didn't want to make you sit here for the whole day listening to me. I could go on and on about him if I wanted." he chuckled good naturedly as he patted down the hair on Peter's head that he messed up previously. The younger boy looked up at him again and Alfred knew there was more on the child's mind that he wanted to ask Alfred.
"Alfred?" he tugged on the older man's shirt.
"Hm?" Alfred nodded, gesturing him to continue with his question.
"You won't ever leave my brother will you?" he mumbled sadly.
Alfred shook his head with confusion. Just what kind of question was that? Of course he wouldn't leave Arthur. He was a friend to him and he would never just up and leave a friend when they haven't done anything bad to him. Shit, even if they had done something bad and depending on just how bad it was, he would forgive them. It was like that time he forgave Kiku for sending him a website with a virus and not telling him before hand that there was a risk in downloading the files for their mmorpg. The more he stared at Peter, the more he wondered if Arthur was some kind of deviant that everyone avoided. Not that Alfred would cared if he was one anyways. The question itself was just a little odd coming from someone as young as Peter.
"Of course I won't. Why do you ask?" he asked as gently as possible to hide the concern in his voice.
Peter sat up and tugged on the bow of his uniform again. A quirk that Alfred concluded as something that boy did whenever he was uncomfortable. "It's just...ever since father forced him to leave, he's been alone."
Oh, so that's what it was about.
"And the last friend he had left him because of that...it troubles me to see him like this. He just doesn't look as happy as he used to be." he started to wipe away some tears forming in his eyes. "And father and mother treat him like garbage." he sniffled.
Alfred placed his long arms around Peter and held him the same way he used to hold his own brother whenever he came home crying about being bullied at school or about teachers giving him trouble throughout the day. He brought him close to his chest and let the boy dry his eyes on his sweater. "You have my word. I'll never leave Arthur. He's very important to me. So don't worry, okay?" Peter looked up and Alfred wiped the remaining tears from his eyes with his sleeve and smiled.
I just hope you don't meet father and mother. Because..." he hiccupped. "because then they'll make you go away too."
Alfred almost cried himself. He was never good around people crying, so he had to do his best to not let himself break down in front of the boy. He remembered that one time he ended up crying when he was trying to console a little girl whose dog ran away and was found dead by the road side. It obviously didn't end well for the both of them since Alfred and the little girl both cried in each other's arms until people came to take her dog away. When he got home, he felt like utter shit for not being able to comfort the girl. But this time, he needed to be strong to comfort Peter. Not also cry and have Arthur comforting them both if he walked in on them. He tightened his grip around Peter. "I promise I will never leave him. No matter what, Peter. And you too. I won't ever leave you." he pulled the boy up to face up and looked at him seriously.
Peter nodded "Thank you." he blinked away the remaining tears.
Alfred's expression remained warm and they sat in an embrace for a little while longer. Peter's breathing eventually calmed down and Alfred was further away from his breaking point. It was just sad. Though he felt less alone because there were people in the world that he could relate to, he also wished that he was the only one feeling the feelings that both him and Peter suffered from because he simply did not want anyone else to undergo the same emptiness as he did. It was the worse feeling in the world and condemning someone to that faith was worse than a death sentence.
"Now how about you show me more of your comic! Maybe I can give you some ideas!" Alfred reached for the sketch that was placed aside and handed it to Peter who enthusiastically sat back down next to Alfred and continued telling him about his current comic idea. If he continued any longer in their crying mess, he would have no doubt broken down in front of Peter.
"Okay, so this guy is named Super Larry and he is the super King of London. But one day he was bitten by a radioactive ladybird that gave him super bug-like powers!" he pointed to a transformation sequence of his character undergoing bodily changes from the bug bite. He went from a normal human to someone that resembled a ladybug much to Alfred's
"Whoa! Does he know Spiderman?" Alfred asked excitedly.
"They're best friends!"
"Ohmigawd!"
As the two laughed they were oblivious to a certain author standing on the other side of the kitchen door hearing everything as clear as day. He ended up finishing breakfast early, but when he went to open the door to call out to the other two to join him in the kitchen, Peter's conversation sparked interest in the author. Needless to say, Arthur heard everything from their talk about how much Peter admired his big brother to how Spider-man and Super Larry were best friends. To say that the author felt something but didn't show it was an understatement because he had been standing there the whole time trying to contain his sniffles and tears that made his eyes more swollen than pollen during allergy season. He had just hoped that Alfred didn't hear the "idiot" that was mumbled by him after hearing about how the young photographer would always be with him.
XXX
The day went by before Arthur even knew it as he glanced at the grandfather clock that chimed when the hands hit nine o'clock in the evening. The author yawned from the fatigue that result from his days of lack of sleep. Once again, he hadn't gotten any work done for today. But he didn't really mind since it wasn't exactly a bad day. Francis popped up for an hour during the afternoon but that was about it, and it wasn't even that bad either. Overall, the three of them had a great time just sitting around and doing nothing besides talk and listen to Peter about his super hero story which Arthur found quite fascinating. Only when Peter finally nodded off, Arthur knew that it was probably time to turn in for the evening.
"Looks like the little bugger has taken a liking to you." he smiled as he tucked Peter in his bed for the night. He knew that his father would definitely find out about his whereabouts because he had been gone for so long. Thus, he definitely wasn't going to send Peter home alone at night only to be welcomed by their father's hand.
Alfred smiled at the sleeping boy. "Well, what can I say? I have a thing with kids." he grinned but then his face turned solemn when he remembered something dreadful. "Won't your parents find out where he is?" he asked.
Arthur sighed and headed out the room with Alfred following behind him. "Most likely. But I'll take him back tomorrow morning. If I take the heat for this they might go easy on him." he replied sadly.
Alfred was about to protest, but then he nodded, not wanting to argue any further. Both were tired and it wasn't his place to meddle in other people's family affairs at the moment. Maybe he'll bring it up the next time he saw Arthur, but right now just didn't seem like the right time. So the blond closed the door behind him and descended down the stairs.
"Say, would you like to stay over?" Arthur broke the silence by speaking up. Alfred stammered in return as he was caught off guard by something so unexpected. The younger blond scratched his head and laughed.
"S-sure. Why not?"
Arthur gave a small smile and looked out the window in his living room. "It's completely dark out and plus it's snowing quite a lot. You might as well stay." he turned back around and faced Alfred who sighed in relief upon hearing the actual reason. "You can have the guest room when you are tired. You know where that is?" he asked
Alfred nodded and pictured the big room they walked by when putting Peter to sleep. It didn't take a genius to figure out that that was the guest room with the lack of decoration and only a bed and dresser in the room. It was what most house guest rooms looked like except a lot bigger than the ones that he was used to seeing. Alfred yawned and decided that maybe he should turn in early as well. It wasn't like him to go to bed so damn early but playing with Peter and just relaxing with Arthur turned out to be anything but relaxing; but in a good way though.
"Thanks, Artie. I'm gonna sleep now. You guys sure tired me out." he laughed.
"Right..." he smiled. "Have a good night now, Alfred."
"Ditto."
Arthur watched as Alfred disappeared up the stairs for the night and stretched his cramped up back from sitting around all day. He thought about going to sleep as well but he had to make up for the time lost and work on his novel before Francis had another freak out again. Really now, showing up abruptly in the afternoon just to complain about being on time with the novel's rough draft was more than inappropriate; especially since Peter was there. And it was even more inappropriate when the French man decided to teach the little boy about the "birds and the bees" that the latter already knew about much to Arthur's horror. But other than that, it wasn't too bad. Arthur and Peter's relationship may not be the same as it once was when they were both still living happily together and they may not share the same closeness as before, but the author still felt a bit of happiness when he saw him. That is, as long as he didn't let his hurt override those happy feelings the way they usually did.
Arthur glanced at Alfred's backpack on the floor and picked it up to place it near the coat hanger in the hall. He also found it strange that today with Peter was especially better with Alfred around. Perhaps it was the young photographer's cheerful personality that added to the tiny bit of happiness he felt when seeing Peter. But whatever it was, it made the day a lot easier to bear without his inner turmoil making him forget what little he had left with Peter. So maybe Alfred wasn't just a spark of inspiration for Arthur, maybe he was the light that he needed in his life. Even though they had just met, whenever Alfred was around, his path of darkness became brighter lit, allowing Arthur to steady himself rather than wander aimlessly in no particular direction; wandering aimlessly back into the past that kept pulling him from the future. Perhaps that was why as time passed, Arthur didn't want Alfred to leave at all; perhaps that was also why Arthur subconsciously kept Alfred's jacket knowing full well that the blond would come looking for it eventually when he could have easily returned it himself. He did not want to go looking for that light himself. He wanted Alfred to come to him; he wanted his light to come to him and guide him home.
The older man double checked that both Alfred and Peter were in their respective rooms and headed back towards the box of photographs on the coffee table. He opened the blue lid and dug under the photos and pulled out the one he was looking for. Smiling, the author glanced back up the stairs to make sure Alfred wasn't actually standing there spying on him. The last thing he needed was to be seen fawning over the particular photo that had caught him off guard when he first laid eyes on it earlier in the morning.
"You said you liked to preserve beautiful things," began Arthur, almost as if he was addressing the photograph itself. "then why me? Why would you choose to preserve me out of all things?" he asked as he glided his fingers across the smooth surface of the photo containing his sleeping face from the park weeks ago.
TBC