A/N: I never realized how horrible I was at spelling until I read through everything a few times, and I apologize so much for the cringey language and the poor spelling. I started using a different writing app, so hopefully I will be able to catch more of my mistakes from now on.

I am updating this story a little early, since I won't be able to update it on the usual day, which is the excuse I'm using for this chapter being a little rushed and not as well-thought-out as I would have liked. I expect to have another chapter posted on Thursday of next week, and hopefully that one will be more satisfactory.

Thank you to everyone who has been reviewing and showing their support for this story, even if they weren't a fan of what happened in a few of the chapters. And even if you haven't been reviewing, thank you so much to everyone who has been reading. I love knowing that there are people who are enjoying my stories. Thank you so much again for reading, and don't forget to drop me a review and let me know what you think. Your reviews make writing so much more worth it.

There was warmth. It enveloped Arthur, caressing his skin and dancing through his veins. He felt good, a feeling that lately had been difficult to come by. He wanted to stay in bed, wrapped up in this amazing warmth, until his bruises healed and his memory faded.

Arthur nuzzled his head further into the pillow, breathing in the scent of Alfred that clung to the pillows and the clothing he was wearing. As he breathed in, Arthur felt something tickle the side of his face and nose as he breathed. The pillow was slightly damp he noticed, and not as soft as it had been when he had first gone to bed. When he breathed in again, he caught the slight scent of sweat clinging to the more dominant scent that he had come to adore.

Alfred.

A small smile pulled at Arthur's lips as he nuzzled his face into the scent of Alfred. Now he definitely didn't want to open his eyes or leave the bed - not if Alfred was there with him, sleeping so close and -

What?

Arthur sat up quickly, his eyes flying open as he glanced down at the man beside him. It was indeed Alfred. Shirtless and breathing deeply. Goosebumps erupted along Arthur's arms and the back of his neck as he watched the other boy sleep. Alfred looked so peaceful while he slept, Arthur couldn't help but stare. His eyes wandered from Alfred's face towards his chest, which was, Arthur realized now, where his face had been pressed. Alfred's chest hair was matted slightly from where Arthur's head had rested, his chest rising slightly from his breathing.

Arthur gulped, his eyes beginning to feel more and more heavy the longer he stared at his crush. He tried to tell himself that having feelings for this man was dangerous, look what it had already done to him, but he couldn't shake the feeling. The longer he watched Alfred sleep, the wider and softer his smile became. He thought about how kind Alfred had been to him, and how he had never physically hurt him. He thought about the tears in Alfred's eyes as he apologized, practically begging Arthur to forgive him and to give him another chance to prove that he wasn't a complete asshole.

Arthur's heart clenched as he remembered everything that had happened yesterday. Alfred had been so kind, so patient, so giving. He wondered what had happened to make the young jock act so tough and careless and mean towards others when he obviously wasn't that type of person.

"Do you see something you like, or am I just that disgusting that you can't take your eyes off me?" Alfred's voice brought Arthur out of his thoughts. The Brit squeaked, his face turning bright red as he brought his eyes up from Alfred's hair-covered chest to his face. Alfred's eyes were wide without his glasses, and bluer than anything Arthur had ever seen.

Gulping, Arthur forced an angry expression on his face and yipped, "What do you think you're doing, moving over to my side of the bed like that? I didn't tell you it was okay to coddle all over me, did I?" Arthur crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at Alfred with as angry an expression as he could muster through the blush.

Alfred's laugh threw off the Brit, his angry expression slipping as he watched Alfred's eyes crinkle at the corners. "I don't know if you noticed, dude, but I stayed on the side of the bed that I fell asleep in last night. You're the one who moved to cuddle with me." Alfred continued to laugh, his shoulders beginning to shake as he sat up in bed.

Arthur's face burned an even brighter red as he looked over his shoulder, noticing that he had, in fact, migrated from his side of the bed to Alfred's. Turning back around to Alfred, Arthur clenched his fists and forced himself not to stare as he pointed accusingly at Alfred's bare chest. "Well then, what in the heck happened to your shirt? Huh?"

Alfred laughed again, this time louder than before. He laughed so hard his whole body began to shake. "I got hot. I normally don't sleep with a shirt on, but I put it on anyway because you were here. I must have taken it off while I was sleeping. Sorry." He didn't appear to be sorry, considering the fact that he hopped out of bed and stretched so tall that the muscles in his back rippled, drawing Arthur's attention to his semi-naked form.

Blushing fiercely, Arthur threw his legs over the side of the bed and stretched his arms above his head. As he stretched, his bruises began to tingle and burn. Wincing slightly, Arthur dropped his hands into his lap and bent forward, the pain from his bruises hitting him all at once.

"Twenty minutes, lovely."

Arthur jumped at the sudden outburst, his cheeks burning red as he tried to understand what Alfred was talking about. "Twenty minutes for... what?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder and watching as Alfred dug through his dresser drawers. Arthur's imagination began to run wild with possibilities about what he had twenty minutes for. Until he was kicked out? Until Alfred switched back to the douche bag Arthur had imagined him to be? What if Anderson was upstairs, and he had twenty minutes to figure out how he was going to defend himself? Arthur's heart raced as he continued to think about what he could possibly be in for, no matter how outrageous the scenario was. His imagination never made sense when he was close to panicking.

But what Alfred said next was worse than anything Arthur could have thought of.

"Twenty minutes to decide if you want to go to school or not."

Arthur's heart seemed to stop at the sentence. What day was it? Did he really have to go back to school? What about his clothes? His books? He wasn't mentally prepared to go back to school, and he hoped he could convey his panic and worry to Alfred through his rapidly-beating heart and the sweat that had erupted suddenly all over his body.

A hand touched down gently on his shoulder. "You don't have to go if you don't want to, dude. I promise."

Alfred's touch soothed Arthur. He felt his heartbeat slow down to a steady, calming pace. His mind cleared of the fog that had begun to settle over his thoughts. His body was still covered in nervous sweat, but his hands shook no more. Arthur focused his senses on the warmth that was radiating from Alfred's body, his mind zeroing in on the hand that was still resting on his shoulder. He tried to take as much comfort in Alfred's touch as he could, but he couldn't erase the deep feeling of fear in his heart.

"No, no," Arthur mumbled. "I have to go back. I've already missed so much. I can't just..." Arthur leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. He could feel tremors traveling through his body again, shaking his legs and shoulders as he tried to suppress the panic that was rising quickly to his throat.

The bed dipped as Alfred climbed onto it. He pressed his forehead against the back of Arthur's head, breathing slowly and deeply as he rubbed his hands along Arthur's arms. When the smaller boy seemed to be a little calmer, Alfred moved over and sat beside him.

"Your mental health is just as important - more important - than school, Arthur," Alfred murmured. "Besides, you've already missed two weeks. What's one more day?" The laughter at the last sentence was forced, and Alfred cringed at how obvious it was.

He watched as Arthur's shoulder slumped. He could tell by the strained look on his face that he was thinking hard about what he should do, and what he was ready to do. Alfred sat beside him patiently, his hand resting lightly on Arthur's shoulder as he thought.

"Okay." Arthur straightened up and glanced over at Alfred, his eyes strained and lips a straight line. "I'm not ready to go back to school yet. I can't."

Alfred nodded in understanding. "Three day weekend then?" he asked jokingly, forcing yet another laugh to try and lighten the mood. He rubbed Arthur's arm one more time before hopping off the bed. "First things first - breakfast!"

Arthur tried to protest as Alfred tossed some clothes over to him, but the growling of his stomach silenced him. Looking down at the clothes in his hands, Arthur noticed that they weren't his own that he had worn there the night before. "What happened to my clothes?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

Alfred was rummaging through another drawer, his over-sized sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips.

Arthur turned around again, blushing profusely. He wrapped his hands in the clothes that he had sitting on his lap, focusing to control the urge to turn back around.

"They're dirty," Alfred explained. "You were wearing them for God knows how long, and they smelled like dirt and sweat. They definitely need to be washed. I was planning on tossing them in before we left. Is that alright?"

If he washes our clothes together, does that mean my clothes will smell like his...?

Arthur shook his head roughly, clearing his throat as a lump began to form there. "Uh… y-yeah. That's fine." He stood up, shaking out the clothes in his hands.

"Alright, cool. I'm just gonna go toss these in upstairs real quick and then we can go get some food."

Arthur heard Alfred's footsteps as he made his way up the stairs. When he heard the basement door close, he sighed and glanced down at the clothes he had been given. There was a pair of jeans so faded at the knees that the material was paper thin and almost white. As he inspected the length of the legs, Arthur noticed that the bottoms had been cut off and sewn carelessly. There were frays all along the legs and pockets of the jeans. Questioning if these even belonged to Alfred, Arthur quickly replaced his over-sized gym shorts for the jeans. Amazingly, they fit perfect. They were also soft, Arthur noted with surprise.

The shirt he had been given was similar to the one he had worn to bed. Similar in the fact that it was America themed, that is. The new shirt was black. On the front was a ripped American flag on the moon, with the hashtag "pwned" in large purple lettering across the top of the shirt.

Arthur rolled his eyes as he studied the shirt. He was beginning to worry about Alfred's fashion sense – or better yet, lack thereof.

At least it's better than the one I'm wearing now, Arthur thought in disgust, shedding the ages-old shirt and tossing it on the bed. He stared at the shirt in his hands a little longer, wondering if he wanted to even bother wearing something so embarrassing.

A wolf whistle from somewhere behind him made him jump and turn around. It was Alfred, standing at the base of the stairs with a smirk on his face.

"You know, I think I finally understand why you stared at me every day," Alfred announced. "Shirtless men are kind of hot."

Arthur's cheeks burned hot as he turned back around, throwing the shirt over his head as quickly as he could without looking like he had been affected by Alfred's comment. He could feel his whole body burning with embarrassment as he straightened out his borrowed clothes and turned back around towards Alfred.

He was still standing at the stairs, leaning against the railing with his chin propped up on his arms. The smirk was still present, stronger than it had been before.

"What?" Arthur asked, tugging unconsciously at the hem of his shirt.

"I've never seen you wear anything but those atrocious dress pants. Jeans look good on you," Alfred explained, walking farther into the room and grabbing two pairs of shoes from the corner.

Arthur's blush deepened. "My dress pants aren't 'atrocious,' you uncultured twat. They're very comfortable and they look good."

Alfred's laugh was loud and unforgiving, his smirk turning into a smile as he tossed Arthur's shoes over to him. "Come on, dude. I'm hungry."

He said it before, and he would say it for the rest of his life: McDonald's was as far from food as a person could get. They had gone to the same McDonald's they had went to before, the first time they had hung out together. When they had entered the building, Arthur's stomach had turned in on itself, and he hadn't been sure if it was because of the smell or the memory he associated with the establishment.

"Hey man, are you okay?" Alfred asked from behind the steering wheel. "You're doing that weird silent thing again." They pulled up to a red light, Alfred's ancient truck shaking violently as they waited for the light to turn.

"Where are we going?" Arthur's voice was quiet, muffled slightly as he turned his head closer towards the window. He watched as late-morning joggers rounded the corner, followed closely by two large dogs.

Alfred sighed. "I made a promise to someone, so I am following through on that promise."

Arthur nodded. He closed his eyes, focusing on the lurching of the truck as it began to move once again. Alfred's scent was everywhere. It had been absorbed by the fabric of the seats, it clung to the clothes he wore, his skin and his hair. With every breath, his mind became more and more clouded with Alfred's scent.

I'm drowning in the scent that I've spent the last two years yearning to be surrounded in, Arthur thought as he snuck a glance over at Alfred. His eyes were set on the road, his bottom lip pinched in between his teeth as he neared another red light.

"Which one is it this time, Al?" Arthur struggled to ignore what that question meant, but it was painfully obvious. The only question is – was it women or men? Both? He seemed pretty shocked that it was me, but then again, it could have been because of my face. Does even Alfred's brother know? How many other people know about what Alfred did? God, I was so stupid.

Arthur was too lost in his thoughts to realize that the truck had been stopped and the engine turned off. When the passenger door opened, spilling the young Brit from the seat, he looked around in confusion.

The first thing he saw was Alfred. He felt Alfred's arms wrapped around him, holding him steady against his body so he didn't fall onto the pavement. When he pushed himself away from Alfred, he noticed where they were.

His house.

"But Anderson - !" Arthur exclaimed. He fought to climb back inside the truck, but Alfred's grip was firm. "He can't see me, Al, you don't understand!"

Alfred pulled Arthur towards him again, placing his chin on the top of his head until he calmed down. "Anderson can't see you because he isn't here. Your mother misses you, Artie, and she's been worried about you. At least go see her and let her know you aren't dead."

Arthur swallowed past the lump that had begun to form in his throat. True to his words, Arthur noticed that Anderson's car wasn't in the driveway. His shoulders relaxed instantly.

"Let's go see my mother, then," he whispered, stepping away from Alfred and making his way towards the front door.

The door wasn't locked. Arthur wondered if his mother had been leaving it unlocked ever since he left, hoping that he would walk right through the front door like nothing had happened. As soon as he stepped inside, Alfred right behind him, he was enveloped into a warm, tight, familiar hug. He could feel tears fall onto his shoulder, moistening the borrowed shirt and sending a shiver down his spine.

"Oh, my baby," Alice whimpered, her voice strained from her tears. She looked up and smiled softly at Alfred. "I didn't think you would actually be able to find him. Thank you so, so much. I could never repay you enough."

Arthur could hear the smile in Alfred's voice as he answered. "You weren't the only one worried about him, ma'am. I'm glad he was okay when I found him."

Arthur's heart wrenched when his mother asked her next question: "Are you going to stay?" He could tell by the tone of her voice that she already knew the answer.

He backed up enough to look her in the eye. "I can't." Just the thought of being in the same house with Anderson was causing his heartbeat to quicken and his body to shake. A cold sweat broke out all over his body.

He released his mother, stepping back and moving around her to make his way upstairs. "I have to grab a few things. I will be fine." Alfred stayed behind and watched, along with Alice, as Arthur disappeared.

"Will you keep him with you?" Alice asked suddenly, turning to Alfred and grabbing his hands. Her grip was tight – so tight her knuckles were turning white. Alfred's bones rubbed together, but he kept the pain out of his expression when he saw how distressed Arthur's mother was.

He glanced up at the ceiling, where he could hear muffled footsteps as Arthur gathered his belongings. "I doubt he would want to stay with me, but I will make sure he is taken care of, no matter where he decides to go. I promise." When Alfred smiled down at Alice, he noticed tears streaming down her face. Her makeup was running, black eyeliner and mascara smeared across her reddened, puffy cheeks. Her eyes were swollen from crying.

"You are the greatest friend he could have right now. Thank you."

Alfred cringed. He wished he could accept her thanks, but all he did was nod slightly in the direction of the stairs. "I'm going to go see if he needs any help up there. Thank you, Mrs. - "

"Allie," she interrupted. "Just call me Allie. It's what Arthur's father used to call me."

Alfred's smile widened. "Thank you, Allie, for caring so much about your son." With a wrenching heart, Alfred made his way up the stairs, taking two at a time. Maybe Arthur didn't want to stay with him any longer than he already had, but he needed to know that Alfred was there for him. He needed to help as much as he possibly could. He needed Arthur to know that he would be there to help fix everything he had broken.