I found myself in Francis's room a few weeks after the incident. He was awfully confused on why I was there, but I was in there anyways. We just layed around awkwardly, Francis and I aren't very close in a sense, and lately i've been totally excluding myself by locking myself in my room.

"So," I looked at him. Francis didn't question me being in his room, we were brothers after all.

"So," Francis nodded awkwardly, biting his lip. Francis is acting more childish than I am, and he's twenty nine. I huffed, laying down on his bed on my stomach. Looking at his light blue walls, a few pictures hung. A few with him and I when I was a child, a few with mom and dad, and three with his girlfriend. I really wonder what happened to her, they were together for five years, from what I remember. I looked at him.

"Francis," I said. He looked at me, his eyes widening slightly. "Whatever happened too that girl?"

"Which one?" Francis laughed, and I smiled too. When I started getting famous, he dated one hundred plus girls.

"The one in France, the blonde one," I said, turning towards the pictures and pointing to a picture of them. She kind of looked like if Alfred was female, they were both tall, blonde hair with blue eyes, and glasses. Funny.

"Oh, Lisa," Francis perked up, as if remembering something sweet. He smiled. Her name was Lisa, thats it. "Lisa was a beautiful woman. Not just the way she looked, but her personality was perfect." As he talked about her, I swear his accent grew thicker. I nodded and he continued to talk on and on about this girl. "She had the most perfect sense of humor, and she loved dogs. She had three chihuahuas, annoying things but she loved them."

"Well, what ever happend with you and her?"

Francis's facial expression dropped. I almost regretting asking that question, for now he looked like he was about to cry. Man, I should have been more sensitive with that, I know what it feels like somewhat. He really loved that lady, from what it appeared.

"You were too little too understand, then,' Francis bit his lip, and his expression turned too slight anxiety.

"She break up with you?" I cocked my head. Francis looked off to the distance now.

"No, never," Francis shook his head, squinting his eyes. I nodded. "We were madly in love. She was my match, only death could do us."

"So, what happened?" I asked louder. He's not telling me. Why won't he tell me, this is really frustrating.

"Well," Francis took in a sharp break. "Only death could do us."

That took me a while to take in. I thought for a few moments, squinting at staring at the pictures. My eyes widened when I realised what he said, and I let out a quiet "Oh". I nodded and took a sharp gulp, well, that was unexpected. "Blimey," I murmured, looking at him, "i'm really sorry." Francis didn't look sad, now, he looked spacey. "Was she sick? Like mom?"

"No," Francis shook his head. He didn't look as sad as he did before, I think he was accepting the fact that I had asked. He knew I would have asked eventually, I knew I would too. "She was murdered."

Oh my god.

I myself was incredibly flabbergasted by this. This is coming out of nowhere, completely nowhere. Who would have expected this, I mean, jesus! Francis is so happy half the time.

"Jesus, Francis!"

"Yeah, I know," Francis bit his lip with a small nod. But his lips broke into a small smile, "I knew you'd be curious about her eventually. I prefer to remember her as my belle amant, it's much easier to remember good things than bad. Especially when I blamed myself for the first month after her death."

"What happened?" I asked, but scolded myself internally afterward for asking that. But, Francis really wasn't to upset about me asking.

"We were at dinner," Francis said, furrowing his brow, "We were at dinner, and she left to get my wallet for me, because I left it in the car. She insisted she get it." I nodded, listening to his story contently, but yet with usage at the same time. I hope Francis doesn't cry again. "I knew something was wrong when she was gone for more than two minutes, I felt uneasy, but I ignored it."

"And?" I asked, cocking my head.

"And then five minutes later I went to look for her and she was gone." Francis sighed, "I screamed and called for her for hours but I never found her. The police found her body three weeks later, thats when I moved back with you." Francis looked somewhat sick at this point, but he didn't seem like he was going to cry. I felt bad, that really sucks. Those two were clearly perfect for eachother, and I would never meet someone like that most likely. Even if Alfred and I did work out, Alfred is far from being my perfect match. He's nothing like me, and he can be accidently insensitive, which is really annoying.

"Were they ever caught?"

"To my knowledge, no," Francis sighed. I looked at him, and began to sit up. Once I did, I gave him an awkward sibling hug. I feel bad for Francis, he's gone through a lot. Maybe this is why he's so over protective of me, he doesn't want me ending up like Lisa. I'm seriously all he has left. Maybe he didn't want me going through the same pain with dating. "Arthur, just remember, cherish everything you have. Loved ones are important, one day they're here and one day they're gone."

I nodded, immediately thinking of Alfred. Then Jace, then Liz. I miss them an awful lot, but they're jerks if they really said that stuff. What if they didn't say that stuff, though? Maybe Angus was trying to trick me, he is someone like that. Maybe i'm seeing straight. I can't fix my Alfred issue, but Liz and Jace I can.

Thanks Francis.

/**/

Laying in bed that night, I texted Liz and Jace. Both of them, almost the same text.

Arthur Kirkland, 11:50 PM; Hey, Liz, did you have anything to do with the Angus thing? and for Jace, Hey, did you tell Angus I had a crush on Alfred?

I didn't get a response from Liz, but I did from Jace. I can't jump to conclusions, she might be busy. I'm grateful Jace texted me anyhow.

Jace Leontine, 12:02 AM; No, why the hell would I do that? I told no one. Did he find out?

I guess Liz couldn't have known either then, but I have to make sure. Can't be jumping to conclusions about Liz, but how the hell did Angus find out about Al, then?My fingers tapped across the screen to respond with; Yeah, he found out and told Alfred. Alfred's really mad, he called me a faggot. I'm not very happy with him either, obviously.

Jace and I talked for a little while longer. Normal things. He responded with 'dude i'm so sorry' or something like that. At least I have Jace again, this is a huge relief! I have a social life again, I have my best friend back! Well, Alfred was my best friend. After I kissed him I didn't see us as friends anymore, but now i'm not sure what to call Al.

I went to bed that night with the reassurance that I had human company again. London crawled into my arms that night with a small meow, I think he was surprised I wasn't upset.

/**/

This is the last place I want to be right now.

Alfred's adjusting his sound equipment while Francis is forcing me to do warm ups. My throat hurts, I don't want to be singing, and not in front of him. Alfred seems jolly, and it's pissing me off. He's not talking to me, but he's not glaring nor afraid to look at me. I don't want to sing his music right now, even though i'm only doing one song, I still don't want to sing something by him. Every time he speaks, even though I can't hear him outside the glass, I can faintly hear the word 'faggot' in the back of my head. And it's making my blood boil.

I watched as the two slid a pair of headphones on and Alfred tapped a microphone. I heard the speakers inside of the recording room click, and I flinched along with the noise.

"Sorry Arthur," Alfred mumbled, leaning into the microphone. I growled under my breath and my eyes fluttered away. "You can hear me, right?"

I widened my eyes and gave a thumbs up, but quickly resumed my 'pissed Arthur' look.

"Warm ups," Francis said before Alfred and him started looking through a few pieces of paper. I huffed and began making the 'S' noise with my tongue, much like a snake. My throat ached, and I refused to do actual singing warm ups. Francis noticed this and pulled away from the papers. "Arthur, sing."

I growled, "Sing, what?"

"Do ray me, that stuff, warm ups," Francis said, "I thought you would be used to this."

I begrudgingly started to do some alto notes, since I didn't want to go high. My throat really hurts, despite the water I had to drink recently. After a few minutes, Alfred spoke up again.

"How about we start off with the Bad Romance cover?"

"I already did that, first tour," I muttered angrily. Alfred looked up from his papers.

"I know, we're thinking of doing it again." Oh, so you don't need my say in this? "And this will be easy because you know this already." I groaned quietly, and I heard Francis giggle. It was quiet because he was far away from the mike.

"Someone's grumpy," He looked at Al, and the two of them laughed.

"Ha ha, very funny," I growled. The two of them looked at me, shocked that I heard it.

With a "music!" From Alfred, we started. I shouldn't be so miserable about singing right now, but I am. Maybe because Alfred's here and really cheery, despite the fact that I feel terrible. My voice picked up quickly with the rhythm, but my brain did not. My mind repeated the sentence;'this sucks.' over and over. I watched Alfred's lips gradually extend into a smile. I should be happy he's this pleased to watch me sing, but as his smile grows my anger gets hotter.

My anger subsided as soon as my voice cracked. It hurt, worse than it should. I stopped singing immediately and began to rub my sizzling neck. Jesus christ, I must be coming down with something. Francis stopped the music.

"Arthur?" Francis said, unamused.

"It really hurts," I hissed back, my voice losing volume, "I think i'm coming down with something."

"Try and sing," Francis and Alfred both said at the same time. I sighed, and let out a quiet, painful screech.

"That's the best I can do," I muttered, rubbing my neck again. Francis sighed, so did Al.

"We get all setup-!" Francis's voice trailed off as he got further away from the mic too open the door. I immediately exited, wanting to get out as quickly as possible.

I'm so grateful to have a recording studio in the house. Easy escape.

"Tell me if you feel any better tomorrow," Francis muttered, sighing. "I'll pick up some medicine if you don't." I nodded and fast-walked out.

"Feel better, Artie!" If i had not exited the room by the time Alfred said that I would have ripped his head off.

Guess who got sick? Terribly sick, bedridden sick.

And mister Jones was assigned to take care of me. Jesus christ.

/**/

Basically, Alfred just brought me my morning tea, and would tell me to call him if I needed anything. Which I never did. I wanted to see if he would come if I stayed quiet, but he never did. I would just watch TV silently or read. I texted Jace a lot as well, I would've called him, but my voice sounded like twelve-year-old me going through puberty but a thousand times worse. It wasn't only my voice, I would get chills despite the four blankets on top of my body, and once I stood up I would get insanely dizzy. It's nothing life threatening, Francis said, just a virus. As long as I get some rest i'll be fine. Also, I think London has been taking turns in between visiting Alfred and me. Sometimes London follows Alfred into my room and leaves with him.

I was awoken on the third day of my sickness by the door creaking open.

"Brought your tea!" Alfred's rather early this morning. Doesnt he know I should be sleeping? "Just like always, ya know." Alfred laughed and set the mug on my nightstand. I rubbed my eyes to look up at him, and he stared back at me, excitedly. He knew I was going to say something to him. I hadn't talked directly to him in a while.

"You're early."

"Yeah," Alfred nodded, sitting on the side of my bed. No, that wasn't a conversation invite! I don't want to talk to him! "Sorry, did I wake you up?"

I nodded. As his hand was placed on my hip I quickly recoiled, rolling to the other side of the bed. apparently Alfred took this as permission to lay down next to me. "You know, laying down with a faggot may cause you to die," I hissed angrily.

"You still mad about that?" Alfred said loudly. He sounded shocked.

"No," I said sarcastically, "Calling a gay person a faggot has no affect on them! Especially when you're this person's best friend." I turned so my back faced him.

"Gee, Arthur, I had no idea that would've hurt you that bad."

"No, Alfred? You haven't talked to me for weeks, you didn't care that I cried almost every night, it's not just the fact you called me a faggot!" I could feel my voice crack deep in my throat. I sound like an idiot. I heard Alfred swallow.

"Well, I just didn't talk to you because it was awkward," Alfred muttered, "I didn't know you cried every night over that, m'sorry."

"Sorry doesn't fix anything," I hissed, crossing my arms. I felt Alfred's fingers curl around my shoulder. I hunched my shoulders, his gentle grip being easily taken off my shoulder. "You knew you were going to hurt me by saying that, you knew it so you said it."

"I didn't know what else to do, okay?" Alfred said, "I was angry you lied to me, I didn't know-."

"I lied to you?" I hissed. It was true, I had lied to him. But he had no clue I had before then, and believed Angus as he said it. Why should he beileve him? More importantly, beileve him and then toss me out like some old toy? "Angus said all of that, you would really beileve him over me?"

Alfred fell silent. I could feel his breath on my neck every once in a while, as if he only chose to breath every great while. Alfred was stuck, I could tell.

"Artie," Alfred finally said something, my nickname spoken in a sigh.

"Don't call me that."

"Arthur," Alfred said, louder this time, "I'm really sorry, I was being stupid. Can we just be friends again?"

I fell silent. Just be friends again. He doesn't mean kissing and shit, just being friends. Normal friends. I wouldn't mind that of course, I miss Alfred. But he really is trying to avoid all the arguing. He isn't being sincere, he wants me back in the easiest way possible.

What do I say? I don't want to chase him away, but I don't want to be harsh.

"I don't know, Alfred," I muttered quietly.

"C'mon, we can watch horror movies and hang out until you're better," Alfred chimed in, sounding like a puppy begging to be played with, "Please?"

This is like a dream come true, but it feels so wrong. What the hell do I do?

"I'll think about it. Maybe tomorrow," I said with a defeated sigh, "I really have to sleep."

"Oh," Alfred's childish voice had turned into a calm, almost sad voice. "I'll come back tomorrow then. Um, bye."

I listened to the quiet footsteps of Alfred leaving my room.

/**/

I felt myself getting better after a few days. I could walk now without getting too dizzy, but my voice still hurt and I was still awful cold, so I spent much time in my bed still. The morning after Alfred and I talked, I only saw my tea on my nightstand followed with a note that read 'So?' and a smiley face. He's such a dork.

Since I was able to walk around now, I could get my own tea. I no longer needed Alfred's assistance. I almost missed him coming in every morning. And since I still spent a lot of time in bed, I really didn't see anyone. I still texted Jace a lot, and Liz finally responded back. She explained to me how she said Angus had gone too far because at first she thought he was just joking with the 'cat fight' thing. She said to me that her and Angus don't get along well and she would never do that stuff. I felt pretty good.

It had been ten o'clock. I was just going to bed, until I saw a note on my night stand. It was written in pen, and the ink was still wet, Alfred must have slipped this here note to long ago.

Hey Artie, If you're feeling any better I was wondering if you'd want to meet me at the park? Fine if ya don't, you're pretty sick still. This was written at nine thirty, by the way! So if you find this at twelve know i'm not there.

Sincerely, the very confused Alfred.

P.S., Can we be friends again? I miss you!

I smiled, but yet got angry at the same time. I can't go, it's too cold. I'm still sick.

I set the note back down with a small frown. Getting up, I walked to my window to open the blinds. Once I did, London sat outside, mewing. Poor kitty, must've locked him out. I pushed open the window, but London just sat there, meowing.

"C'mon, London, the window is open," I laughed picking him up. He hissed, and out of shock I dropped him on the floor. London landed on all fours and showed no sign of being hurt, thank fully. "London," I muttered with a laugh.

London never acts like this. He seems frustrated, he's pacing around my legs and when I try to pet him he dashes away and goes to my door. I sighed. "London, what's wrong?"

The cat paced again. He looked around the room frantically, but it looked like he found what he was looking for. Jumping on my bed and onto my night stand, he meowed again. "London, bad-!" I scolded the cat, until I realised what he was trying to do.

He was trying to pick up the note Alfred had left me with his teeth.

I squinted, cocking my head. I picked up the note, London jumping back onto my bed. He stared at me, his ears twitching.

Something's wrong. London never acts like this, he's very calm and sweet. Looking at this animal, he looks distressed. I'm starting to feel nervous.

I took a breath. "Is something wrong with Alfred?" I regretted asking that, like i'd get an answer.

But I did. London sat down and meowed, his calm-kitty nature coming back almost entirely. This can't be, London's a cat. He's no smarter than any other animal, this must be some weird coincidence. Alfred is fine. But, London picked up the note out of all things on my nightstand, and calmed immediately when I said Al's name.

"Where is he?" I said, staring at the cat. London jumped off my bed and ran to the door, pacing in front of it until I walked over to it.

Now I feel sick. Nervous sick. It's not just the way London's acting, I feel as if my human nature is telling me something is wrong.

Next thing I know I had London in my arms and I was sprinting to Francis's room, despite my shaky legs from my sickness.

Upon opening the door to Francis's room, I blurted out the words; "I think Alfred's hurt."

Authors Note_

LONDON TO THE RESCUEEE! London's on a role here. I think he might be the most level headed character in this book so far. And he's a cat. That's saying something.

Getting into Francis's back story. I thought I was on writers block, but Francis saved me. Thanks Francy-pants.

This chapter is still pretty bad though, because of my writers block. I was hit with creativity, but yet I didn't want to write. So, miss spellings, and this isn't a very detailed chapter. Sorry.