So remember when I said that I'd have plenty of free time to devote to writing now that summer is here? Yeah. Turns out I was wrong. Between studying for next year's classes, studying for the SAT, meeting my goal on camp nanowrimo, and my science program, I didn't have as much free time as I thought I would. I worked extra hard in camp nanowrimo yesterday so that I could both meet my daily goal for that and write this for you, though. Enjoy! Sorry again. :(


When Arthur unlocks the front door and steps into the school, his footsteps echo against the tile. It's deathly silent and just as empty. But, he knows that one person will be here. He slips into the front office, and sure enough, light spills out from one of the rooms down the back hallway.

Elizavetta's office.

He peeks inside to see her hunched over her desk, head in her hands and fingers wound through her long wavy hair, looking about ready to pull it out.

"Knock knock," he says, gently tapping his knuckles against the heavy door.

Elizaveta looks up, suddenly, surprised. Her eyes are rimmed in red, the eyelashes clumped together and still wet.

"You okay?" Arthur asks.

"Yeah, yeah." She pushes her hair back out of her face. "It's just... work, you know?"

"Do I?" He chuckles. "Yeah. Yeah, I do know."

She sighs and looks down at the numerous papers scattered across her desk.

"Heard the district is coming down here tomorrow."

Her eyes grow huge. "Did they send that email out to everyone?"

"Ah... yeah, I think so." Arthur digs his phone out of his pocket and checks the recipients. "Yeah. All the staff."

"Oh, heavens!" She lays her forehead down on her desk and groans.

Arthur just stares at his shoes awkwardly. "Well," he sighs, "I'm going to go through some papers of my own. I'll be in my office if you need me." There's not really much that he can do here.

Elizaveta nods wordlessly. "Thanks."

Arthur isn't lying, he does have papers that need to completed and files, information to go through, and reports that need to be sent or filed, but upon looking at these, he has a different plan in mind.

He glances at huge dinosaur of a computer that sits on his desk, debating in his mind before finally sliding over and switching it on.

His heart gives a painful clench as he pulls open a word processor.

And he starts typing.


Alfred, too, is met by darkness and silence when he unlocks his front door after Mr. Kirkland drops him off.

"Dad?!" he calls. It's past dinner time. His dad should be back now. He should have been back a while ago, truth be told. "Dad!" he yells again.

No answer.

He huffs, and begins pacing around the house, flicking on lights and ducking inside rooms to look around. "Hello?" Still no answer.

Alfred groans, going to the freezer to see what's inside. It was his dad's turn to cook, and now he's really wishing he had gone for that quick run through the McDonalds drive thru that Mr. Kirkland had offered before dropping him off. All that's in there that he knows how to cook is a bag of frozen peas.

No thanks.

He'd better call his dad and make sure everything is alright and to pick up some food, he thinks, reaching into his pocket to dig his old phone out, still off from when he was at the museum. The moment the backlight blinks on, he's assaulted with voicemails and text messages. All from Matthew.

His eyebrows furrow. This can't be good.

"C'mon, answer," Alfred mutters to himself as he redials Matthew, the phone ringing several times.

"Alfred?" Matthew finally picks up.

"Hi! Hi. What's up? I have, like, thirteen missed calls from you."

Alfred can hear an annoyed huff from the other end. "You need to keep your phone turned on," Matthew chides.

"Sorry," Alfred mutters, though he doesn't really mean it. He knows too well from all of their years together that he should just agree if he ever wants to move onto a more serious topic with his brother. "So what's wrong? Where's dad?"

Matthew sighs into the phone. "Listen, Alfred, you might want to sit down for this."

"Yeah?" Alfred's face falls, and he stumbles over to the couch in the dark, sitting on the very edge of it.

"You know what? I'm almost at the house. Just wait until I get there, okay?"

"Almost at the house?" Alfred sputters. "What are you even doing in town?" Matthew goes to college three hours away. Sure, sometimes he comes home on the weekends and for holidays, does some laundry and whatnot, but he's never just spontaneously come after school when he has classes to get to the following morning. "Matthew?" Alfred prods again, when he doesn't answer.

"Look, I just turned onto the street. I'll explain when I get there, okay?"

"Wait, no, tell me now!" Silence. "Matthew?"

Alfred pulls the phone away from his face and looks at the screen. Call ended. Of course.

He dashes up to wait by the window, and sure enough, Matthew's old, beaten car pulls up on the side of the curb but a moment later.

"Matthew!" Alfred dashes outside before his older brother even has a chance to turn the car off and step outside.

"Hey bud." Matthew climbs on out of the car and throws his arm around his little brother.

"What happened?" Alfred asks.

Matthew frowns, taking Alfred by the shoulders and pushing him down so that he sits in the driver's seat, car door still open into the street. "Listen, don't freak out yet, but dad had a stroke."

Alfred's eyes grow to the size of grapefruits, his heart pounding.

"I said don't freak out yet!" Matthew shouts, holding his hands up. "Dad is fine."

Alfred breathes heavily for a moment. "He's okay?"

"Yeah, Dad is okay." Matthew looks Alfred over: sheet white, breathing quickly, and looking like he's about to throw up. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Alfred nods slowly. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Good." Matthew kneels down and gives his brother's shoulder a brotherly squeeze. "Like I said, he's fine. Sorry for freaking you out. I just called so many times to let you know why he wasn't there. I thought you'd call back earlier, and by the time you did, I was so close that I thought it would be better just to tell you in person. Listen, Dad is okay, but they're still running tests to figure things out. There's a very short recovery period, he's just not supposed to strain himself for a while. Trust me, talking to him, you can't even tell anything happened. You and I are going to be helping him out..." Matthew trails off, glancing over Alfred once more. "You sure you're okay?"

Alfred manages a nod.

"C'mere," Matthew says, smiling sadly with his arms open, enveloping Alfred in a hug. "It's okay. We'll go visit him." He pats Alfred's hair.

"Thanks," Alfred mutters, hugging his brother back. But all he can think of is how close he just was to losing one of the last people he still has left.


Arthur is torn from his thoughts by a knock at his door.

"Come in, Elizavetta," he calls.

Her head pokes around the half-open door before quietly slipping in. "Hey. So I guess you figured out that I'll have to cut someone by tomorrow morning."

Arthur nods slowly. "I have."

Elizavetta sighs, taking a seat.

"And who the candidates for that cut are?"

"Yes, that too."

Another sigh.

"Roderich is my husband. I know I say that work and home life aren't related but..." She groans in frustration, clenching her hands into fists.

"But they are."

"I can't...ugh." She rubs her temples. "It's not right to keep him here because of personal matters. And besides, the staff members are starting to notice and... I know what I have to do. I'll just have to cut him."

"I don't want this ruining your marriage," Arthur says quietly.

"Neither do I." Elizavetta laughs humorously.

"Look," Arthur says. His throat catches and he finds himself barely able to speak. "I'm going to make this easy for you." He reaches over to his computer and clicks print, the fresh papers sliding out of the printer by his boss's feet.

Her eyebrows furrow and she bends down to pick them up. "Your letter of resignation." She looks up, eyes wide. "Arthur I can't ask this of you-"

"You didn't," he cuts her off. "This was my decision"

"I-" Elizavetta's mouth moves like a fish out of water. "Thank you," she finally manages to get out. "Are you sure though? What about your students?"

"My students," Arthur smiles, "are tough kids. They can take what life throws at them."


Don't worry: not the last chapter. Both Alfred and Arthur will stay in the story. I'll say no more. ;)

In making decisions between two alternatives, you may fall into one of three categories:

approach-approach: You have to choose between two desirable alternatives: Such as getting a pet kitten, or getting a pet puppy.

approach-avoidance: In approach avoidance, one possible decision has both desirable and undesirable qualities: Maybe you get into a very good school, but it's far from home and you want to stay nearby.

avoidance-avoidance: In this conflict, you must choose between two undesirable alternatives. Arthur had to choose between giving up his job and seeing his friend's marriage fall into the danger zone.

On a side note, are any of you doing camp nanowrimo?

Side note number two: AP test scores are coming out this week. Good luck to all of you who will be receiving them! For those of you signing up for AP classes next year, I personally loved AP Psych. It's a challenging, but very interesting class. A lot of the AP test for it is doing exactly what I do here: taking psychology terms and relating it to a scenario, so you've already got some insight. ;)

Imaginary Scribe: Thanks! It's coming to a close but it's not quite done yet.

Marzue: Hi! Not to worry; no fics are being abandoned. And thanks, when I thought of what Alfred would like to be when he grows up, my first thought was: dinosaurs! And yeah, it is pretty interesting. :) It's almost like a really fast way of evolving.

Candyfloss Cloud: Thanks!

The Goliath Beetle: I guess the chapter didn't exactly make things easier for them, but rest assured that everyone will find their way eventually.

atomicapple: First off: love the username. Second, reviews like this are awesome! You have no idea. I'm so glad that you were able to connect to this story so much and that this is a good representation to you. And thanks for saying that I shouldn't be embarrassed about my writing (and I'm that way with drawing, too). It's probably a good thing, though, isn't it. Means that you're improving with your work and don't like old stuff as much. Well, good luck with the drawing!

LeFay Strent: Oh, don't you love those moments when something you learned in class actually shows up in the outside world and you just want to shout from the rooftops that you know what they're talking about? *cough*trivia crack*cough* Thanks so much!

Guest: Thank you! Hope you found this chapter interesting as well. :)