Author's Note: Only a couple chapters left! Thanks so much to everyone who's supported the story, I love you all! :D

Song for Chapter: "My Oh My" by Tristan Prettyman

Alfred had been sitting at the table, clutching a mug of coffee a little more tightly in his palm, his mind racing in circles. It had been a week ever since New Years night. Ivan and he had gone out to the swell of the crowd to stand in Time Square to listen to the entertainment, watch the ball drop, and see the fireworks. The night had been great, until they decided to run into the convenience store for some bagels and other assortments for tomorrow's breakfast. It was there that he, quite literally, ran into Arthur. Well, more like "ran and kissed" into him. He hadn't been freed from watching the scene over and over in his mind for this whole period of time, and Ivan could tell that it was eating at him. He was good at that kind of thing, telling if he had something on his mind.

Thinking of Ivan, the very man dawdled into the kitchen and looked over at his lover that was curled up in thought over his cup of coffee. Stepping closer to his position. He leaned down slightly to make eye contact with him before straightening back up.

He said in a hushed tone, "Fredka..." he was using his endearing nickname for him, he could tell that something was wrong with Alfred, "...if you squeeze the handle of that mug any tighter, you're bound to hurt yourself if you haven't already." It was true, Alfred's white-knuckled clutch on the item was looking rather painful, and he soon snapped out of his daze and set the cup on the table. Ivan frowned, "You're thinking about him again, da?"

Alfred blinked several times to truly get himself focused back on his Russian boyfriend, a tad shocked by the firm calmness of his tone. He didn't sound so angry as he did sad. Guilt surged through the American, and words spilled out, "No...I'm just..."

Ivan shook his head, "You don't have to lie Fredka, I understand why."

As much as the words were aimed to sound reassuring, Alfred thought that they sounded hollow and somewhat bleak. It hurt to hear his Vanya talk like that. He sounded like a heartbroken child being forced to walk away from some pretty girl who wasn't impressed by a couple of wildflowers that he picked for her. Alfred longed to say something that would set his fears aside, but he wasn't sure what words could have the power to do that.

"If I could help it, I would," he looked up at Ivan and said, "Prosti menya..."

Ivan, in turn, gave a small smile and said, "It's alright, don't apologize." He headed over to the table and wrapped his arms around the American, burying his face slightly in his neck, "I just thought that he would be out of our lives by now..." There was a lingering thought of "is it so selfish to wish that?". But Alfred wouldn't respond to it, he both agreed and disagreed with it. He certainly hated being the bad guy, and he wasn't going to risk playing it to Ivan.

Francis had been pacing the living room floor for the past twenty or twenty-five minutes, anxiously worried. Ever since their run-in with those two men at the convenience store, Arthur had been constantly troubled and quiet. He wouldn't even give a name as to whom they were. He had asked him several times if he wanted to talk about it; but the last time he did, Arthur had threatened to throw the lamp at him if he asked again (because he insisted that he was okay), but Francis was smart enough to see past his facade. He wasn't sure what to do to help him, but he decided to dial-up Gilbert and Antonio first. When the Frenchman needed advice, he knew who to turn to.

Three-way-calling was a life saver, and when the familiar rings of "Hola" and "Tag" sounded from the receiver he gave a relieved smile. He just hoped that anything that Toni and Gil told him wouldn't raise the volume of his voice. It was only seven thirty, and Arthur was sleeping soundly. He hadn't been getting out of bed until ten thirty or eleven on some days. It was worrisome.

He spoke quietly, "Gil, Toni, I need some advice."

Antonio yawned, "This can't wait a little while longer? I was sleeping..."

Gilbert replied, "Yeah, I need my beauty sleep Francy. Is this important? Did Arthur run away again?"

Francis sighed, "No, it's about this thing that happened on New Years."

"What happened?" Gilbert asked.

"The sex not work out?" Antonio, very surprisingly, said. However, the two other friends knew that Toni tended to be a little more straightforward (not to mention vulgar) whenever he had to be up early, so they didn't immediatley screech in shock.

Francis shook his head, "No...it's these people that we ran into..." When the two didn't say anything, Francis went on, "I went in one of those convenient stores to get some cigarettes, even if I found a bunch of other stuff that looked good too, and I expected that Arthur was just going to wait outside, but then I saw him being confronted by these two men and he was saying something along the lines of 'I didn't mean to, I swear'. He won't tell me anything about it, and it's obvious that it's eating away at him."

Gilbert sighed, "Why do you make my mornings feel like they belong in a soap opera?"

Antonio snapped, "Gil, that's rude and won't help. Francy, did you hear anything else or notice anything about them?"

Francis rubbed the back of his neck, "Hmm...the two of them seem close, and the blonde one was the one who was doing all of the talking, and from what I saw...I think Arthur accidentally kissed him and he got pissed off, but he was also looking me and Artie over."

"I get the feeling like that blonde may have history. Were they together before?"

"Well I don't want to jump to conclusions, but..."

Gilbert suddenly perked up, "Wait! What did the blonde look like?"

"Umm, he was wearing some kind of leather jacket, like one that war-time pilots have, and he had glasses..."

"Francis."

"Oui?"

"The reason Arthur didn't want to say anything because that was Alfred; the guy with him was probably Ivan."

Francis nearly dropped the phone, "Arthur's ex? That was him?!"

"Yeah, that jacket was practically glued to his body all through college. He stopped growing senior year I think, so I'm not surprised if it still fits."

"But still...I can't believe that Alfred would do that to his own ex. Hasn't he hurt him enough? He's cheated on him, and he still has the nerve to act like a dick to him?!"

"I think Mattie's bitched about that too."

He heard a clicking noise, and assumed that Antonio felt like he couldn't contribute to the conversation and hung up. He felt bad about that, but that's not what he cared about at the very moment. Francis snarled, "I'm tired of Arthur getting hurt; I wish I could just do something to prevent Alfred from hurting him anymore."

"Then do so."

"What?"

"Beat some sense into him, I don't know. If you're worried that Arthur's going to do something crazy, then take care of the problem before one starts. And, you could probably get some information as to why Alfred cheated on Arthur. You can't seriously tell me that you haven't wanted to know why."

"You're such an ass, Gil. What's his number?"

Tapping his fingers on the counter, Francis impatiently waited out the rings of the phone before there was a click on the other line.

"Privet?"

"I'm looking for Alfred."

"I live with Alfred, may I ask who's calling?"

Francis sighed, "I'm Francis Bonnefoy, I was with Arthur at the convenience store."

"Ohh...then I suppose your reason for calling concerns him, Mr. Bonnefoy?" Francis wasn't sure if that was supposed to be a snide comment.

"If it's not too much to ask, I'd like to speak to Mr. Jones about him."

Ivan looked over to Alfred, who had realized what kind of conversation he was having, and noticed that the sunny blonde was half freaking out. Ivan shrugged, "I suppose that's reasonable, especially since you asked nicely."

"Don't talk like you're mocking me, Ivan."

The Russian respected the boldness in Francis, it was certainly amusing, "My apologies. Why don't you come by our apartment later on? How does eleven sound?"

"That sounds fine."

"Good, I look forward to meeting you, Francis."

And then Francis hung up without any goodbye. Ivan glanced back at Alfred and said, "I think the time's come to set things straight, Fredka."

Alfred frowned, "Vanya, what if he yells at me?"

"I don't want to scare you, but I think you might get yelled at. You practically snapped at Arthur in a store. I think Mr. Bonnefoy is currently in possession of him."

"You make him sound like he's some kind of object."

"You sound like you care."

"I..." Alfred sighed and discontinued his thought; he knew that Ivan wasn't trying to cause trouble, but the things he said...sometimes they were just a little over the line and not necessary.

When Arthur woke up, he growled at the ten-fifty flashing on the clock and rolled out of bed. Still worn out from their activities from the following evening, Arthur trudged through the living room and searched for Francis. It seemed like he wasn't here.

Looking for clues, he saw a note on the fridge and read it silently: "Gone out to get milk, be back in several hours. - Francis :)"

What the fuck? He grumbled to himself, "Thats a load of rubbish." Crumpling the note and throwing it out, he opened the fridge door and saw that they had a full carton of milk already in there. He nearly chuckled to himself, and leaned against the refrigerator, "Francis, if you're going to not tell me where you're going, you could at least come up with a decent lie." He figured that he wouldn't immediatley resort to asking Gilbert or Antonio if they knew where he went. They were his closest friends, but they probably didn't keep tabs on him all the time. So, chances are that calling them would just be a waste of time.

Striding back into the living room, he decided to do something that would take a few hours, since that was the time that Francis had left for him. Noticing the large photo box in the corner by the television, he saw that there were a couple album books stacked underneath the box. Francis had mentioned that he wanted to transfer the photos eventually, but never could find a time where he desired the task. Now that Arthur was bored, he figured that this would take his mind off the fact that Francis was out doing who-in-the-hell-knows-what. So, he seized the box and several of the album books and got to work.

Francis knocked on the door, examining the address that Ivan had told him once again. Right apartment complex, right number on the door. And the door creaked open where a large Russian man was standing in front of. Francis easily recognized him as the man he saw at the store. He was wearing the same scarf, even if he was inside his own apartment.

Ivan greeted him, "Privet, come in."

Francis stepped inside, examining the apartment and noticed the blonde sitting at the table, nursing some drink. Alfred F. Jones. The Frenchman immediatley wanted to begin yelling at him, but he ignored the irritating sensation prodding at the back of his brain. Yelling would get him nowhere, and this was for Arthur's sake. He probably didn't buy the lie on the note, he just hoped that he wasn't going to do anything rash because of it.

Ivan smiled, "Have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink?"

Francis shook his head, "No, I'm alright." And on that note, Ivan took a seat next to Alfred, leaving the Frenchman to sit across from them.

The Russian said politely, "The floor is yours, Mr. Bonnefoy." He gestured with his hand to go ahead and speak, and Francis was finding it odd that the boyfriend was leading the meeting. He only came to speak to the dick who yelled at Arthur, not his boyfriend.

"Gladly," he said, trying not to sneer, and locked eyes with Alfred, "Who in the hell do you think you are, Jones? You have the nerve to cheat on Arthur, and when you run into him several months later, you treat him exactly the same as you did when you kicked him out! He's suffered more than you could ever imagine, and you had no reason to-!"

"I did have a reason, actually," Alfred said. He seemed very calm and collected at first glance, but if you looked at him a little more, one could tell that he looked a little sad. Before he could elaborate, he looked over at Ivan and said softly (though Francis could still hear it), "Vanya...we're allowed to talk about this, da?"

Ivan knew that Alfred was playing the Russian card to butter him up, since he knew how much he loved it whenever the American spoke in Russian to him, but he was smart enough to understand that things would be said that neither wanted to hear. He was asking his permission to say things that would be hard to take, even if they were lovers. Ivan nodded after a minute, hoping that he wouldn't regret allowing him to talk about the hard stuff.

Alfred went back to speaking, "This whole damn story is kind of confusing, so I'll just start at the beginning, okay?"

Francis nodded, still maintaining a glare.

"I have never disliked Arthur. Never. I couldn't hate somebody who I've been in love with for four years. Hell, I still have some sort of feeling for him."

"Then why..." Francis looked over at Ivan and back to Alfred, "...why did you cheat on him if you loved him?!"

Running his fingers through his hair, Alfred sighed, "It was hard." Looking to his Russian boyfriend, he continued, "I liked Ivan as well, I had known him since Arthur used to work with him, and I didn't want to betray Arthur. But, eventually, Ivan's mere existence was driving me mad, he was haunting my dreams." Ivan smirked with delight at hearing that sentence. Alfred had never really told him he had such a big impact on him.

"I called him up once, and long story short, we had a bit of a fling. I had only intended it to be some sort of one-night stand. Just to have sex with him and get him out of my mind. And it didn't go according to plan..." The American gave the Russian and apologetic glance, to which Ivan only shrugged off, "With Arthur, we had a formal relationship. You know; friendship, fainted feelings, confession, then love...anyways, but with Ivan, it was instant. We didn't need the easy feelings of a developing relationship, we had to have each other then and now."

Francis could understand that, that was kind of like his feelings towards Arthur. Yet, "Then if you knew you 'had to have' Ivan, then why didn't you break up with Arthur cleanly? You proposed to him, and that just made things worse!"

Alfred nodded, "I know, but I still loved him. I had spent almost three years with him, and I was worried about throwing him aside for Ivan, whom I had slept with only once." Ivan looked clearly unamused. "You see?"

With a nod from the Frenchman, Alfred went on, "That led to the cheating. I still wanted to be around Arthur, as I loved him as a human being; but at the same time, I loved Ivan for the sex, I don't know why...but I just loved the sex between us better than Arthur."

Francis raised an eyebrow, thinking in his head, 'That's because, idiot, that he's a larger man like you. Obviously he'd be better in bed by your standards.'

By now, Ivan looked a little irritated or even upset by all this. He was regretting allowing Alfred to talk about this. He loved the fool, but he could just be so ignorantly blunt. Saying that he only loved him for the sex was making him sound like Alfred's bitch.

Alfred smiled at the Russian, "But, I grew to love him as a person as well. I called myself an idiot for only thinking that I loved him as a bedmate." He seemed to look a little happier about that. "Then...we had a fight..." both males frowned sadly. "I won't go into the details, but I thought for sure that we were over with. So, in order to establish that I was trying to atone for lying to Arthur..."

Francis finished, looking a little bewildered, "...you proposed to him." Well, now it made sense. Though it was a stupid choice in the long run, it was understandable as to why he did it.

"But obviously...we resolved our conflict and got back together. And three months after we made amends, Arthur had gone to work for the day. I had called in sick, and so did Ivan. We wanted to see each other again, and we were about to have sex whenever Arthur came home early and heard us in the bedroom. And I'm pretty sure he told you about that."

"I'd like to hear your side to the story. You've already opened my eyes a little more."

"Oh really?"

"You're still a dick and an idiot though."

"Yeah, I know. So, I knew I had to do something. It wasn't like I was falling out of love with Arthur, but I was coming to realize that I wanted Ivan more than him. So, I split it off with him...not in the nicest way possible, but I just couldn't do anything else..." Alfred sighed, "And when he came back a few hours later..."

Francis snarled, "That is what I've been waiting to hear the explanation for."

"Well, after Arthur ran off, Ivan and I talked for a little while..." Alfred started. Ivan stood up and walked away from the table to lean against the wall, causing Alfred to look dejected. He sighed, "I was crying my eyes out about it. I was leaning into the man I had just chosen over my ex fiancé, and wailing that I didn't want to hurt him, but then Ivan..."

Ivan interrupted him, "I told him that he had made his choice, and it was stupid to cry over it." Alfred didn't reply, merely giving a sad pout into the table. The Russian continued, "I know I sound harsh, but imagine knowing that you're the other man for a year. Having to slip out secretly and meet the one you love, it wasn't fair. I wanted Fredka all to myself. And I knew I was making him happier than Arthur ever could. I had grown tired of Arthur keeping him occupied, restricting everything we could do. Understand?"

Alfred sighed, and Francis nodded. Reasonable.

"I wasn't going to force him to forget all about him, but I hated the fact that Arthur was still imprinted in him. Alfred would sometimes cling to me whenever we were sleeping and whisper stuff, apologize for hurting Arthur as if I was him. I hated that he was making him sad."

"Arthur's suffered too...the very thought of Alfred was tormenting him, tried to hold him back..."

"I should really take it off...it's not right to-"

"There's no need to feel guilty about anything, Arthur. The betrayal wasn't your own."

"...And it was Alfred whom caused the problem to begin with. No offense." Alfred shook his head, not minding. It was clear to the Frenchman that he had already accepted that his mistakes could not be erased or forgotten.

Ivan frowned, "I know you're dating him now, so I'll ask you to pardon what I say. I hadn't given much consideration to what Arthur's life was like; and I hadn't even expected to see him whenever I was heading out into town. But, when I did...I just let whatever I wanted come out of my mouth. Though he was the one who was much ruder; accusing me of seducing Alfred away from him."

Alfred blinked, "You spoke to him on the streets before we saw him again?"

Ivan nodded, "Maybe a month ago."

Francis simply sat there and processed everything that had been discussed. Although he still wasn't big on Alfred and Ivan hurting his beloved Arthur, they had reasons for their actions. Logical reasons, and he wouldn't lie to say that he wouldn't have done the same in their situation. Feelings and love were twisted, and it was a rough game to play. And even if all of the this was pretty much Alfred's fault, he found himself unable to hate him; a level of toleration and understanding kept him only at a dislike. He wasn't some wicked villain out to torment Arthur, he was a man who had made some crucial mistakes in his relationships with Ivan and Arthur.

Ivan then looked up, "But Francis, you said that Arthur had suffered as well...what was that about?"

He was quite surprised that it was Ivan who asked the question, but Alfred perked up, interested.

Francis sighed, "Since he got fired and lost everything after he was kicked out, Arthur had next to nothing left to live off of. His older brother took him in, but he ended up taking the responsibility to pay the rent, and couldn't get a job to support him. He started begging on the streets."

Alfred and Ivan's eyes grew wide with shock; and before Alfred could even say two words, Francis interjected, "It gets worse." With a grave look, he went on, "He had no other options, so he turned to working at the Underbog."

"Arthur was a-?!"

"Yeah, a whore. For three months; and he worked for Matthias Koehler as his personal toy. It wasn't until I found him unconscious in an alleyway that he was free from it all." Well, there was whenever he ran away, but Alfred and Ivan didn't need to know about that.

Hissing in disgust, Alfred growled, "Matthias...I never thought he'd actually accomplish something like that." The two men fell silent to take everything in, and after several minutes, Alfred said, "Is there anything I can do...?"

Francis stood from the table and spoke, "Just don't cause Arthur anymore pain than he's already been through. That's it."

Alfred nodded, "Sure."

Francis smirked, "You two make a good duo. If our circumstances had been different, I may have been friends with you two." He shrugged and turned to walk out, "But, I won't intrude on your lives anymore than I already have. Have a go-"

"Wait, Francis!" Alfred said, standing up.

Francis turned back, "Oui?"

Ivan looked over to his American boyfriend curiously, and Alfred said, "There's just one thing I wanted to ask of you..."

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