At sixteen years old, Alfred F. Jones was a genius, but as all geniuses go, he sometimes acted stupid. He dropped his backpack off by his brother, Matthew Williams, and headed off to get his bottle of milk to drink with his lunch. He pulled out the 75 cents, smiling at the woman at the counter as his milk was handed over. He was walking back when suddenly a tray hit him in the face. He had just taken the lid off and it went flying. Alfred never got to see where it went as the tray came at him again, he was knocked into Kiku Honda's table and onto the floor. All he could see were more trays as they circled him.

"Maple!" Matthew cried.

Suddenly the circle retreated. Alfred caught up and turned to see what had frightened them away. All he saw was Ivan Braginski, the kid nobody but his sisters liked. Ivan was blushing and holding a chocolate milk out. There were drops of milk rolling down his face. So that's where my milk went.

"I'm sorry, but I…"

Ivan grabbed his hand and put the bottle in it and turned to walk away.

"Thanks," Alfred called shyly.

He sat back down by Matthew, who had been joined by Arthur Kirkland and Francis Bonnefoy. Arthur took a good look at his face. "What the bloody hell happened?"

"They got me." Alfred muttered.

"You're not in the hospital?"

"No, and I saw it all," Matthew murmured. "His bottle of milk went flying and the entire contents were dumped on Ivan."

"That's not good," Arthur stated the obvious.

"Ivan got up and headed over to the counter and bought a bottle of chocolate milk. He went to give it to Alfred, who was being threatened still by them. Whenever he showed up, they ran. He silently gave it to Alfred, who has it now."

"So, Ivan has finally approached our Alfred. It's about time," Francis laughed.

"What?"

All four turned to glance at where Ivan was sitting alone, playing with his fork, the milk still clinging to his hair, face and scarf.

"It's obvious," Arthur said. "He's liked you for a while now. You must be too absorbed with yourself to never have noticed."

Alfred grabbed his food.

"Where are you going, git?"

The question was ignored. Alfred walked up to Ivan's table. "May I sit with you?"

Ivan glanced up, startled, and nodded. Alfred sat across from him. "Thanks. You have milk on your face, by the way. Here," he handed him a napkin, trying to prevent he didn't notice how the gloved hand that took it was trembling.

"Hey, do you want to be friends?"

"Da, that would be nice."

This once was based off a dream I had.