Alfred's footsteps were heavy. His head was down, and he held onto the railing loosely as he trudged up the stairs. He seemed to have lost all energy.

Besides the obvious, things were not going well for Alfred. He had just lost another job. It wasn't really his fault; at least, he didn't think it was. His boss had never liked him, and apparently looking tired and unorganised after a sleepless night gave the man reason enough to fire him. Profits had been falling and someone needed to take the blame.

However, Alfred was not bitter about this, only sad. After he had been kicked out, a part of his mind started mocking him gleefully, saying he deserved this. Alfred found himself agreeing.

He finally reached the top of the stairs and started walking down the hallway, the weak floorboards groaning in complaint. The sun was barely setting, but all Alfred wanted to do was collapse on his bed and forget about the day. He could probably sneak downstairs and heat something up later, anyway.

As he moved towards his room, he passed one of the other tenants in the house, a Dutch man called Abel. He nodded as if greeting Alfred, but the American shrank away slightly. Alfred was steadily growing more and more paranoid as the days went by. It had been almost a week and no one had tried to arrest him yet, but that didn't stop Alfred from thinking the worst when anyone so much as looked at him. It was getting pretty ridiculous, really, and he knew it.

He had almost reached his room, his tired mind taking in barely any details—Abel could have been holding a gun for all he knew—but stopped. Someone was standing outside his door. They hadn't seen him yet, and it took Alfred a few seconds before he could really comprehend who it was.

Then he grinned. For the first time since that night, Alfred actually felt genuinely happy. It was as if a weight had been lifted.

"Mattie!" Alfred called, practically running to his cousin and sliding to a halt next to him. "Wow, what are you doing here?"

Matthew looked up in surprise but smiled when he saw who it was. "Hey, Alfred," he said. He tilted his head. "Um… You really don't remember?"

"Remember what?"

"Of course." Matthew rolled his eyes. "I've got the next two months off so I wanted to spend it here. Remember? We talked about this on the phone."

"Oh." Alfred hit his head. "Oh hell. Hell. That was today?"

"Yesterday, actually…"

"Oh my God, I am so sorry, Mattie!" And he was. Alfred could remember it quite clearly now, but Matthew's visit had completely slipped his mind. How could he have forgotten?

"It's fine, it's fine," Matthew said calmly. Well, at least he didn't seem mad… "I mean, you always forget things like this, and I'm sure you were probably busy. I just met up with a friend instead."

Alfred nodded glumly. He knew his cousin too well to accept that. Matthew would have waited to see if Alfred was going to show up. He might not have been angry, but he would have felt disappointed. Somehow, that was much worse.

In an attempt to clear his mind of a very familiar depression, he grinned at Matthew and opened his bedroom door. "How about we head inside?"

The room was small and rather plain. Worn clothes were screwed up and tossed in a corner, ready to be washed. A dresser, which also served as a table, was up against the opposite wall and had a small TV on top. Facing this was a worn couch, and a bed was in another corner with a pile of DVDs as well as some video games next to it. A layer of dust seemed to line everything.

Alfred mentally flinched when he stepped inside. It wasn't usually this bad, but he hadn't had much free time lately. He would have at least tried to clean if he had remembered Matthew's visit.

"Um… Yeah…" Alfred started awkwardly. "Well, make yourself at home, Mattie. Are you thirsty? I've got some drinks."

"Oh…" Matthew fidgeted, his eyes glancing at the faded carpet, the grimy window, the tiny fridge next to the door—anything besides Alfred himself, it seemed. "Um, no thanks."

"Right. Okay, so, how've you been?" Alfred tried to lighten the mood. "I mean, it's been ages since I last saw you!"

"I've been fine." Matthew smiled. "Nothing's changed, really. Same job, same flat… What about you?"

In that second, Alfred's mind blinked back to that cold, dark night. He was standing in front of that man. He could feel that small yet heavy knife in his hand again.

He wanted to tell Matthew what happened. They had always been close as brothers and never hid anything from each other. But he couldn't. Kiku might have been forgiving, but what about Matthew? What if he hated him? What if he called the police? Even if that was what he deserved, the idea of Matthew suddenly rejecting him was unbearable.

Alfred forced a grin. "Fine. Everything's fine."

"Are you sure?" Matthew sounded concerned. "You don't really… look fine."

"Huh?" Alfred frowned. What did Matthew mean? It was true he hadn't been getting much sleep lately—too many nightmares and worries—but surely he didn't look that bad.

"It's just… you look like you haven't slept in a week. And you're pale. Thinner. Is everything all right? I know you've been having trouble with money, but…"

Alfred's hands instinctively went to his pocket. He could feel the shape of the pocket watch, remembering its cool touch, and he bit his lip.

"I-I'm fine, really," Alfred lied. "I just… I've had a lot on my mind recently."

Matthew didn't seem ready to let the subject go. He continued to stare at his cousin with so much worry that Alfred had to look away.

"If you say so…" Matthew said, a little sadly. "But, Alfred, you know you can always talk to me, right? I don't know if this is about the money or something else, but I'll always be willing to listen."

Alfred squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm sorry, Mattie, but I don't want to talk about it. I know you're trying to help, and I really appreciate it, but I… I can't…"

"No, no, it's fine." Matthew gave him a gentle smile. "I just want you to know I'm here. I don't know what's wrong, but… Don't worry, Alfred. I know you. I know you'll always do the right thing."

"Yeah." Alfred's own smile was strained. "Thanks, Mattie."

The day had passed slowly for Arthur, and he constantly found himself with nothing to do. Rose was at work, he could not practice the violin with a broken string, and the TV wasn't showing anything worth listening to. At some point Arthur had managed to amuse himself by constantly stroking Iggycat, but eventually the old cat grew tired of this and swiped at him before running off.

Currently, Arthur was sitting outside at a smooth, white garden table. He had made himself a cup of tea and was sipping it quietly as he listened to the distant calls of birds. He often sat here with Rose or Francis but he was obviously alone today.

Even without his sight, he knew the bottom of the garden was lined with carefully planted flowers. Rose always made sure to look after them and Arthur was sure they were beautiful. As it was growing colder, Rose would definitely replace the current ones, once they had wilted, with winter flowers instead.

Arthur shivered. The temperature had dropped suddenly. Had the sun gone behind a cloud? Whatever the case, he decided it would probably be best to go back inside.

He had walked down the same hallways and rooms so many times over the past three years that it was practically instinctive. As long as no one put something unexpected in his way he could probably fool a causal onlooker into believing he could see. That was doubtlessly a good thing. An immediate reaction to his handicap was shock and then pity, and Arthur hated pity.

With not much to do, Arthur found himself wandering upstairs. He could feel the stretch of his stiches from under his shirt as he climbed the stairs, and he frowned. The doctor had said they would be able to remove the stiches in at least a week, and Arthur honestly couldn't wait. They hurt, itched, and were just plain irritating.

He stepped onto the landing and turned. Even upstairs he knew where everything was. Rose's room was next to where he stood, with his own room close to it and the bathroom down the hall. He didn't know whether his sister had bothered to decorate the walls or not, but he did know that on a small table near the banister was a vase—a gift from their mother. It was smooth to touch and Rose would usually fill it with cut flowers from the shop. Apparently the water for the flowers made it heavy, and someone had once told him it was a pale blue colour.

There was a noise from downstairs, the sound of the letter box and something dropping. The noise had startled Arthur at first, but then he sighed and slowly went back downstairs. There was no rush, considering it was probably just bills. He had ordered a new violin string, but there was a good chance that wouldn't arrive until a few days later.

Once he reached the front door Arthur knelt down and collected the letters. He couldn't read any of them, of course, so he went to put them in the living room for Rose to find later. But he stopped. The letters all had the usual smooth bill-like texture he was used to, except for one. This one felt rougher and flimsy. Something was scrawled over the top, most likely in pen. A handwritten letter? Who was this from?

However, unless the mysterious sender had been kind enough to include a braille translation, this was also unreadable. Arthur simply shrugged and dropped it on the living room table as initially planned.

Rose did not return home until much later. Before that, Arthur had been trying to see if he could play anything on the violin with only three strings. The only interesting thing that had happened to him all day, besides the letter, was that later on one of his co-workers had visited. Bella, a Belgian girl who often worked on the cakes and chocolate, told him that everyone back at the café was worried about him and wondering how he was. Arthur said he was fine and would go back to work as soon as his sister let him.

She left rather quickly. Arthur had offered her some tea, but she explained that she was busy and had to go. Arthur was left alone again, only silence to accompany him.

He eventually turned the TV on just for there to be some noise. It had been fine for most of the day, but Bella's visit reminded him just how alone he was in the house.

He practically jumped off the couch when he heard the door open and those familiar footsteps. Rose was back, thank God.

"Arthur?" he heard her call. Arthur went out into the hall. He couldn't say just how glad he was that she was back. That would sound silly, she would laugh, and he didn't even know why. He was usually fine with being alone. Why was this any different?

Arthur felt the stretch of his stiches again and he forced himself to smile. "How was work?"

"Oh… fine." Her voice was hesitant. There was a crinkling sound from her arms. "Here," she said, and something was pushed into Arthur's arms. A small bouquet.

"Thank you?" Arthur was more than a little confused. Why was he suddenly getting flowers? "What are these?"

"Just, um…" Rose sounded hesitant again. "…Yellow roses."

Yellow roses. Ah. Arthur always dreaded getting these. Most would think this was a friendly gesture, but not Arthur. When Rose gave him yellow roses, it meant his sister had done something he wouldn't like, something that would probably make him angry. It was practically tradition ever since they were children and she broke a window and blamed it on Arthur. Nothing good could come from yellow roses.

"What have you done?" Arthur asked with a sigh.

"Nothing." Rose's reply was too quick to be entirely innocent. "I… There were just too many yellow roses at the shop so I thought I should take some home.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. She was obviously lying through her teeth. It was at times like this where Arthur wished he could see faces. According to Francis, Rose would always look away when she lied.

"Really?"

"Yes. Really. Can't I just give my brother a gift every once in a while?"

After much more pressing and denial, Arthur had to give up. Whatever Rose had done she wasn't planning on telling him anytime soon. This was also a common tradition. She wouldn't tell him straight away, fearing he would yell at her. Arthur hated the waiting just as much as receiving the damn flower. He would find himself dreading what Rose had actually done. She would wait until she either couldn't hide it anymore, either through guilt or Arthur had figured it out, or tell him when he's in a particularly good mood.

The yellow roses were taken upstairs and put in the vase, and still Arthur wondered what she could have done. It had been a long time since Rose had last given the flower to him. She would usually just tell him outright nowadays. Whatever it was must have been very, very bad.

No. Arthur shook his head. He was over reacting. In all honesty, the worse she had ever done was blame him for cutting off all of Francis' hair while he was sleeping (which, in hindsight, was rather hilarious). It was probably just something petty like that. Nothing major.

Arthur prayed that, maybe, no matter how unlikely it was, Rose had actually been telling the truth. Maybe they really did have too many yellow roses, and maybe she thought they would have been nice to put in the blue vase in the hall. Perhaps her earlier hesitation had been due to their history with the flower; she knew Arthur would suspect her of something and was reluctant to hand them over.

…Of course, things were never that easy…

-Chapter end.

It's been forever since I updated this XD I'm so glad I finally finished a chapter XD

I'm a little worried about how often I'll be able to update from now on, though, 'cause 6th form/college/high school/ whatever you want to call it starts for me next Monday, and they've constantly said that this will be the hardest two years of our lives and we really have to work hard… So… yeah… I really don't know if that'll affect how much I can write or not 0-0

As a little bonus note, yellow roses are often used to mean friendship and love, and also jealousy. For this, I was thinking of different meaning of this rose, which is basically 'forgive and forget' ...I don't know if Rose would have known that meaning when she was young, or if she simply gave Arthur the nearest/prettiest flowers she could find XD

Well, please review and tell me what you think ^_^