Happy Chinese New Year, everyone~!
"Stop right there. That's exactly where I lost it.
See that line, well I never should have crossed it.
Stop right there. Well I never should have said that
It's the very moment that
I wish that I could take back…"
Arthur opened one eye to make sure that he was still not in the middle of transition. He found himself in the school again, and he couldn't help but feel very annoyed at this. He was already forced to see the inside of this building five times a week. Spending his entire Friday night witnessing it over and over again began to tire him. This opinion immediately changed when he saw Gilbert and Alfred in the hallway. Alfred was striding confidently toward wherever he was heading to while Gilbert was arguing.
"I'm telling you, you won't make a difference!" Gilbert snapped. He still sported the mottled bruise on his cheek. "Eliza tried stopping it. I tried stopping it. Look where it has landed us!"
"I'm different," Alfred said stubbornly.
"How so?" demanded Gilbert.
"Because I am," Alfred said simply. "He'll be in our lunch period, right? Good; that's when all the others will be there too. They'll see."
"Who are 'they?'" Gilbert asked.
"Everyone," Alfred said. "Enough people."
"Why do you want that?"
"Uh—to—so that everyone can see that Ivan Braginski will no longer terrorize the student body," Alfred said lamely. "Unite them all against a common enemy. Or something." Arthur could tell very well that Alfred was about to say something else.
"Are you asking for your own suicide?" Gilbert growled. "You think this is as easy as just speaking up?"
"Yes," Alfred said. "I mean, if everyone seems me denounce Braginski, then if he messes with me they'll know right? And they'll know if I mess him back. No one will be ignorant." His voice crackled with excitement.
"If you die, Alfred Fitzgerald Jones, I will kill you."
"Noted. C'mon, Braginski isn't going to wait for us," Alfred said before hurrying down the hallway. Gilbert let out a shout before dashing in front of Alfred.
"You seriously must be able to think up of a better idea than this," Gilbert said desperately. "Don't be an idiot."
"I'm just doing what you did!" Alfred protested.
"Yeah—like I said—look where it landed me," said Gilbert.
"Then I'll tell a teacher," Alfred said ironically.
"I told you, he doesn't do crap in the school. What the heck can they do about it?" Gilbert argued.
"Exactly! Only I can fix this!" Alfred declared. "Step aside, Mr. Beilschmidt."
Gilbert lifted an eyebrow sceptically. "What makes you so different?"
"I'm me," Alfred said shortly before marching forward. Before Gilbert could react, Alfred shouted loudly.
"HEY, BRAGINSKI!" Alfred hollered. Gilbert looked as if Alfred had suddenly set himself on fire.
The common room suddenly hushed at Alfred's yell. The students abandoned any thought of lunch, staring curiously at the bespectacled blond at the front of the commons. Alfred spotted Ivan's lunch table and plastered an expression on his face that seemed like a mixture between a determined glare and a grin. He strode towards it without hesitation. Gilbert groaned before following him. The students resumed to their lunches, though they kept their voices lowered and they gave sidelong glances at Alfred and Ivan.
Ivan stood from his chair, smiling serenely at Alfred and Gilbert. He sat with two other girls that Arthur recognized but did not know. When Alfred approached him, Ivan spread out his arms.
"Why, Alfred!" Ivan said happily. "I never thought you'd come visit me!"
"I'm not here for a sweet lil' chit-chat," Alfred declared. "I've got a bone to pick with you."
Ivan raised his eyebrows before turning curiously to Gilbert. Gilbert stepped up to stand beside Alfred, his red eyes resentful.
"I see," Ivan said softly. "Well, let us be civilized, at least. Take a seat."
"No," Alfred said immediately. "This isn't some little tea party conversation." He took in a deep breath. "Why the hell are you hurting my friends?"
"What do you mean?" Ivan said lightly.
"Don't play stupid!" Alfred said hotly. Nearby tables were glancing wonderingly at Alfred and Ivan now. "I know that you've been bullying people lately, and I won't stand for it!"
"Do you now?" Ivan said calmly, fixing his gaze on Gilbert. Gilbert gritted his teeth. "And who told you this rumour?"
"It's not a rumour because it's true!" Alfred snapped. Arthur could tell by the way Alfred's eyes would give brief sidelong glimpses around him that he knew people were watching him. "And I won't stand for it!"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Ivan said blithely. "I haven't bullied anyone. I would never do that to my friends." Gilbert winced slightly at the word. Alfred looked frustrated at Ivan's refusal to own up to his actions.
"You call them your friends?" Alfred said incredulously. "You've practically enslaved them! You hurt them and you think they are all dandy with you but in truth everyone hates you!"
Immediately, the entire cafeteria hushed. The statement certainly struck a nerve for Ivan. His innocent expression suddenly darkened into bitter resentment. Arthur saw the shadows in Ivan's eyes and couldn't help but think that if Alfred had not got to it first, Ivan would have certainly killed Alfred for him.
"You've got a lot of nerve," Ivan said softly, "but absolutely no brains or strength to back it up."
"I'm not afraid of you!" Alfred said defiantly.
Famous last words, Arthur thought to himself.
"Are you putting me up to a challenge, Jones?" Ivan demanded sharply.
Alfred seemed surprised at the accusation before furrowing his eyebrows in determination. "Yeah! Yeah I am! And I'm going to stop you once and for all!"
Ivan narrowed his violet eyes. Gilbert warily reached out and put a hand on Alfred's shoulder as if so that he could quickly pull Alfred away from Ivan's wrath if Ivan struck. A cold smile crept onto Ivan's lips.
"I'd really like to see you try," Ivan said in a light but dangerous voice.
"Oh, I will."
The cafeteria melted from view, spinning and rearranging into a new scene all around Arthur. Out of curiosity, Arthur reached a hand out to the swirling colours, wondering if they had any feeling. It felt like rushing wind against his skin.
"Hey, Alfred."
The scene enfolded to Toris and Alfred in an unfamiliar living room, working on a school project. Alfred was lounging upside down on the couch, snipping construction paper with a pair of scissors. Toris was typing on his laptop, his eyebrows furrowed.
"What?" Alfred said lazily, putting the scissors on the coffee table.
"Were you the one who put the manure in Ivan's car trunk today?" Toris asked.
Alfred laughed. "Who else?" He saw Toris's look of concern and groaned. "Aw, what of it?"
"Well, it certainly explains why he was so livid today," Toris mumbled, not taking his eyes off his research.
"Whoa, he didn't start accusing you of it, did he?" Alfred demanded.
"No. He knew it was you," Toris said softly. "Only you would do something like that."
Alfred snorted and sat up straight. "Why do you say that?"
"You seem to pull quite a couple pranks on Ivan," Toris said calmly, turning to the blank poster rolled out on the carpet. He took one of the squares of construction paper that Alfred cut out and slathered glue on one side. "Why?"
"Didn't you know?" Alfred said. "I'm waging war against him. I'm going to get revenge on him."
"I know that," Toris said quietly, carefully gluing the orange square onto the corner of the poster. "But..your techniques..."
"What about them?" Alfred said.
"Well...how is stinking up his car supposed to...uh...stop him from being—you know—uh—" Toris struggled with words, wondering if there was any possible way to say what was on his mind without using extremely derogatory words. "...bullying?"
Alfred blinked. "Well, what do you want me to do? Bully him back and be a hypocrite?" He barely suppressed a wince at his own words.
"No, that's not it," Toris said quickly. "But—I don't know—annoying him won't make him a better person or recant his actions or anything—at least I don't think..."
"You just wait for it, Toris," Alfred said resolutely, sitting Indian-style on the couch. "I'll set things straight. Is he still bothering you?"
"Um..." Toris busied himself by pasting more paper on the poster board.
"You can tell me," Alfred insisted. "Even if he's threatening you not to. I'll get him back."
"Well, it's—nothing," Toris said lamely. "Just...think things through, all right? Before you do them?"
"He didn't make you shovel out the manure from his car, did he?" Alfred said worriedly.
"No, but I heard that the manure is out of his car right now, so someone must have," Toris said bluntly. "And I rather doubt that it was Ivan's doing. But don't overdo it, won't you? Can't you take a Mahatma Gahndi approach to this and do things peacefully without launching attacks on him?"
"Are you defending him?" Alfred asked incredulously.
"No, I'm not," Toris said. "It just makes me feel that...you're adding gasoline to the fire. It might make him angrier and less willing to make peace, you know?"
"I've got this under control, Toris. Don't worry about it," Alfred said dismissively. He leaned forward and pointed at the laptop. "Can I borrow that for a sec?"
"Sure, sure," Toris said tiredly. Alfred took the laptop and loaded up his Facebook page. After combing through his notifications (several of them were posts on his wall from classmates congratulating him for stinking up Braginski's car), he suddenly remembered something. As Arthur sat next to Alfred on the couch and watched the laptop screen, Alfred quickly typed up Makisig Patanindagat's name on the Search bar.
"Hey, Toris," Alfred said. Toris looked up from the poster. "Are you friends with Makisig on Facebook?"
"I don't have a Facebook page," Toris said. "Why?"
"No reason," Alfred said simply. He found Makisig's account and hesitated. It had been several weeks since Makisig had moved out and he hadn't had any contact with him since. Alfred took in a deep breath. He had started his path to redemption already; this was the opportune moment to right wrongs.
He clicked the 'Send Friend Request' button and typed a small message to accompany it. Many times he stopped to run the words through his head or erase entire sentences. Finally, he settled with a very brief greeting:
Hey Makisig, how's school? Listen, can we talk? I'm sorry about all that stuff I've done before.
Arthur couldn't help but think that if he was in Makisig's shoes, he would automatically click on the 'Do Not Confirm' button. But it didn't matter, because Alfred clicked 'Send' and left the Facebook page.
"So how would you deal with Braginski if you were in my shoes, anyway?" Alfred said casually, closing the laptop.
Toris shrugged, writing on the top of the poster with a blue marker. "If I had any idea, I wouldn't be in this situation, would I?"
"I guess," Alfred mumbled. He stretched his arms over his head. "I'm going to make sure he wishes he never messed with any of you."
Toris nodded wordlessly, but Arthur did not miss the flicker of doubt on his face before the scene changed once more.
But as more and more memories passed before Arthur's eyes, he doubted Alfred's credibility. Arthur watched uncomfortably as Alfred got into fistfights with Ivan, rallied the other students against Ivan, and making pranks. On the other hand, Ivan launched attacks as well, though he retaliated not in the form of pranks but with anger. The more Alfred fought back, the popular he seemed to be. Arthur wasn't sure why, but it sickened him.
But wasn't Alfred doing all this to 'help humanity' or whatever he said? While Alfred was waging his war, Arthur didn't see him even interact with any of Ivan's victims…
"Hey! HEY!"
Arthur jerked in surprise at the yell. He spun around, finding himself in that all too familiar school building once more. To his surprise, there was a large mob conglomerating in the middle of the hallway. A blur of colour rushed past Arthur and he instinctively dodged to the side. Alfred strode confidently toward the crowd, shouting at someone that Arthur could not see. Some of the people in the crowd turned toward Alfred, a mixture of surprise and excitement on their faces as they parted to let Alfred through. Arthur quickly followed and saw that Ivan and Raivis were in the middle of the crowd. Raivis was trembling terribly and Ivan, for the first time Arthur had ever seen, seemed livid.
"Leave the kid alone, Braginski!" Alfred said confidently. Arthur frowned to himself. He wasn't sure why, but Alfred spoke in a way that seemed nearly scripted. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"
"I don't want to deal with your childishness, Jones," Iv an said dangerously. "I suggest you keep your snotty nose out of other people's business and move on with your life."
"I think not!" Alfred exclaimed. Some of the students surrounding them whooped in support of Alfred, and Arthur thought that Alfred nearly glowed. "If you're going to lay another finger on a student again, I'll—"
"What?" Ivan demanded harshly. "What will you do? Another immature prank? God knows I don't have enough toilet paper all over my car."
"That's not what I was going to say," Alfred said, narrowing his eyes. "If you hurt anyone else, I'm going to fight you!"
"Fistfight!" a loud voice cried out excitedly from the crowd. Alfred grinned confidently as the surrounding students chanted in expectations of a fight. Ivan, on the other hand, looked murderous.
"I'm not playing your silly games anymore, Jones," Ivan snapped. "Stop trying to shove your way into things you don't belong in. This is mine to deal with, and you have nothing to do with it."
"I'm not leaving until I know that you are stopped!" Alfred declared.
"Stopped from what, may I ask?" Ivan demanded. Arthur gulped; Ivan looked like he had every intention to shove his fist into Alfred's teeth.
"From being an asshole!" Alfred shouted. The other students cheered and whistled in agreement. Ivan looked shocked and, if Arthur noticed correctly, hurt.
"What are you talking about?" Ivan said in a strange voice.
"Come on, Braginski," Alfred said bluntly. "You don't think that everyone in the world loves you, do you? You may think you have all these friends and all, but in truth, everyone just thinks that you're a son of a bitch!"
It was then that Arthur had noticed that Lovino was in the crowd with a shocked glare on his face. However, his glower was not directed at Ivan, who was now caught in the circle of ridicule, but at Alfred the ringleader.
"So why don't you just leave the whole school alone, considering none of us want you around anyway?" Alfred shot at Ivan. Even though Arthur was not existent in this scene, he still felt a burning shame watching the spectacle.
Ivan's eyes suddenly hardened into poisonous bitterness. Arthur felt his blood run cold at the sight of it. Without speaking another word, Ivan spun on his heel and tore from the crowd without casting a second glance back. Alfred let out a cry of victory and the other students cheered in response, rushing over to pat Alfred on the back and cheer him on. Arthur couldn't help but watch Ivan's retreating back, feeling his heart sink with disappointment at how low his fellow peers had sunk. Now in this generation, it seemed that tact and the famous Golden Rule were now tarnished and tossed into the rubbish bin.
However, while Alfred was washed over with support and praises from his classmates and slowly making his way to the crowded cafeteria where he would once again be overdosed with popularity and praise, Lovino hung back, detached from the crowd. He frowned at Alfred's back before casting a quick glance toward where Ivan had once been before darting off to another direction. Arthur thought that the hallway was empty until a voice perked up from behind him.
"Raivis. Oi, Raivis."
Gilbert jogged over to Raivis's side. Arthur had forgotten that Raivis was left in the hallway, still trembling from the ordeal. Gilbert patted Raivis on the shoulder.
"Hey. You okay?"
"Y-yeah," Raivis nodded. "I'm—I'm fine."
"What did Braginski do to you?" Gilbert asked.
"It was—well—he just got really mad and I d-don't know why, but Alfred—he stepped in before anything really h-happened," Raivis said softly.
"Oh," Gilbert said, though there was something in his voice that seemed rather stiff. He looked around at the empty hallway. "Where is Alfred, anyway?"
"He left," Raivis mumbled. Gilbert pressed his lips into a thin line.
"You sure you're okay, kid?" he asked.
"I am...yes, I am," Raivis stuttered. "Don't worry about me...t-thanks."
Gilbert gave Raivis a brief pat on the shoulder before turning toward the direction of the cafeteria. Arthur could hear the faint rumble of the voices during lunch time, celebrating Alfred. Gilbert narrowed his eyes before bidding Raivis goodbye and left.
Arthur was about to follow Gilbert until time changed around him once more. He was growing more and more impatient. What did any of this have to do with why Alfred killed himself? It didn't make sense to Arthur, but it wasn't like he could fast forward or get out of this mess. He found himself back in Alfred's home. Matthew and Alfred were in the living room. Alfred was playing a video game on the television set while Matthew watched, curled under a fleece blanket. Arthur took a glance out the window and saw to his surprise that it was snowing. Time must have passed since that scene with Toris and when Alfred confronted Ivan.
"...and then I was like, 'Everyone hates your guts, you asshole!' to Braginski and everyone was cheering me on like I was the star rugby player," Alfred said, as he swung around his video game console. "I was this close to beating him up, and I would have if he didn't run off with his tail between his legs."
"When was this?" Matthew asked quietly.
"During lunchtime," Alfred said casually. "You should have seen it, Mattie!"
"Why were you even getting in a fight with him?" asked Matthew, drawing the blanket closer.
"He was messing with Eduard, or someone," Alfred said. Arthur raised his eyebrows with disbelief. Alfred had already forgotten that it was Raivis he was rescuing, not Eduard. "I was the talk of the school this afternoon! Didn't you know about it?"
"I did know about it," Matthew said, shrugging. "Well, not the details."
"Oh? What did you hear?" Alfred asked eagerly, whipping the console around in the air to control the game.
"Well, I didn't hear much...as much as I saw," Matthew said.
"What? I thought you said you didn't see the whole event," Alfred said, frowning.
"I didn't see that," agreed Matthew. "But…well, I ran into Ivan on the way out of lunch."
"Oh shit," Alfred said deadpanned, pausing in his game. "He didn't do anything to you, did he?"
"No," Matthew mumbled. "I don't know if he noticed me. He seemed blinded by anger."
"Angry because of me?" Alfred asked.
"Well, I wouldn't know any other reason," Matthew said. He bit his lip nervously before finally saying what was on his mind. "Don't you think…couldn't you possibly turn it down a little?"
"The game? It isn't that loud," Alfred pointed out.
"No, I didn't mean that," Matthew said, shaking his head. "I mean…your little saving-people-thing."
"What are you talking about?" Alfred said, surprised.
"I don't mean that you should stop defending people," Matthew said quickly. "I mean, that's good and all, but I mean your um…techniques."
"What's wrong with my techniques?" Alfred demanded, swiping the virtual alien with his light sabre.
"You're sort of…mean," Matthew said softly. "I mean, it isn't exactly—you know—tactful if you insult people like that."
"You're standing up for Braginski?" Alfred said incredulously.
"I'm not standing up for him, I just mean in general!" Matthew contradicted. "And it's not just because it's the right thing to do! What if Braginski gets so mad at you that he beats you up?"
Alfred let out a boisterous laugh. "He can't lay a finger on me!"
Matthew bit his lip anxiously. "It makes me uncomfortable too."
"Huh?" Alfred cast a disbelieving glance at his brother. "What are you so nervous about?"
"It's—well—you see—" Matthew started to say. He sighed and shook his head. "It doesn't seem like it's you. You're different when you're around him. You get…nastier."
"Geez, Mattie, I'm not a nasty person!" Alfred protested, his voice fading and the scene becoming hazy as it was about to change. "You think too much. Come on. Relax. I've got this in the bag."
Arthur then found himself in an unfamiliar room. He looked around, noting the advent wreaths with the coloured candles around the room and the tinsel decorating the mantelpiece. Alfred was in his kitchen, nibbling on gingerbread cookies while searching the internet on his laptop.
Alfred searched up the Facebook page on the internet while Arthur pulled up a chair next to Alfred and sat down next to him. When the Facebook page loaded, it notified Alfred that he had one private message waiting for him. Alfred excitedly clicked the link, only to find out that the message was from Makisig.
Alfred frowned, trying to remember if Makisig ever accepted his friend request after all these months. Concluding that Makisig never did in his memory, he warily went on to read the response:
I don't get it.
For nearly a year and a half, you made fun of my accent, food, clothes, language, country, everything. And now you suddenly realize that maybe it wasn't that great of an idea after all?
There are days when I just wake up in the morning and my first action is to hate you after remembering everything you did to me.
Part of me wants to just forget about all that, now that I don't have to suffer your presence anymore, but the other part of me doesn't want to let you off the hook all that easily.
Don't you dare say that you were just 'playing' with me or you were 'messing' with me. That sure as hell won't justify what you did; in fact, you'll seem more like an asshole than you already are.
Please leave me alone. Do what you should have done for the past two years.
Arthur backed away from the computer, a little embarrassed that he read such a private message. He watched Alfred hide his hands in his face in resign. His attempt to cleanse himself of wrongdoings had failed.
Suddenly, Arthur was lost on an icy road, his feet slipping on the slick and biting ice. He rubbed his arms vigorously, nipped by the awful cold that he was left unprotected against. What in the world was he doing in the middle of the road in the middle of winter?
He soon saw Alfred walking down the sidewalk, the snow reaching up to his calves and soaking his jeans. Arthur gingerly made his way toward Alfred, and when he stepped into the snow, he expected to sink right through the crystalline flakes. Instead, his feet remained on the icy surface without leaving a single mark.
"Oi! Hey! Hey, Lovino!"Alfred suddenly shouted. Arthur jumped at the unexpected ejaculation and turned his head to see Lovino in the front yard of one of the houses in the neighbourhood. Lovino jumped nearly two feet with surprise and spun around, a look of shock on his face. When he saw Alfred making his way toward him, Lovino scowled and devoted every ounce of his attention to the snowman he was building directly in front of a window.
"What's up?" Alfred said breezily, ruining the perfect snow with his footprints.
"What do you want?" Lovino grumbled, shoving a gnarled and crooked stick into the snowman's abdomen.
"Can't you say a simple hello to me?" Alfred said. He frowned. "Why isn't the snowman facing forward? Instead of, you know, the window."
"Leave me and my work alone," Lovino snapped, picking an ugly stick from the ground and fashioning it onto the snowman. With its new woody limbs, the snowman looked like it was hovering over its pray, ready to pounce.
"And why is your snowman's face...well, not happy?" Alfred asked, pointing at the snowman's snarl made of pebbles and sticks.
"Is that a crime or something?" growled Lovino. He picked up a bottle of tomato juice from the ground and took a sip. "What do you want?"
"I was just dropping by," Alfred said. He raised his eyebrows. "Wait—this isn't your house."
"So what?" Lovino said callously.
"Why are you making a snowman in someone else's yard?" asked Alfred. "In fact—isn't this Antonio's house?"
Lovino rolled his eyes. "What do you want, Jones?"
"Geez, why so cold?" Alfred complained. "All week you've been avoiding me like the plague and when I do get a chance to talk to you, you run away and hide behind Antonio!"
"I don't hide behind that idiot!" Lovino protested, his cheeks growing pink. "You're just an asshole, that's all, you bastard!"
"Why?" Alfred demanded, wincing when Lovino snapped at him.
"Nothing," Lovino said sourly, drinking another gulp of tomato juice.
"Don't give me that, Vargas!" Alfred groaned. "Why can't you just tell me what's up? Are you mad at me or something?"
"I don't know," Lovino mumbled. Alfred pursed his lips and lowered his voice.
"So...it's possible that you are mad at me?" Alfred said tentatively.
"Gee whiz, why do you care?" Lovino demanded. He unscrewed the cap from his bottle of tomato juice and poured it all over the snowman, dyeing the snow crimson like blood. Arthur couldn't help but feel sympathetic toward Antonio when he would draw open the curtains to his window and come face to face with the mutilated snowman zombie that Lovino had so kindly left him.
"I want to know what others think of me, that's all!" Alfred said.
"Oh, you want to know how super amazing you are?" Lovino said hotly. "Or how you're such a role model for the whole school?"
"Well—I don't know about that," Alfred stuttered. "You are mad at me, aren't you?"
"I'm not mad at you! You're just an asshole!" Lovino exclaimed. "I mean, you're a pretty hypocritical asshole!"
"What?" Alfred said, aghast. "How am I a hypocrite?"
Lovino's face turned into a very bright shade of red. He shoved his hands into his pockets and mumbled something inaudible.
"Don't you 'never mind' me! Why am I a hypocrite?" Alfred demanded sharply. Arthur could sense the slight fear pricking his voice.
"You said you were going to be the super amazing hero of the school to make it a better place, didn't you?" Lovino said so heatedly that Arthur was almost certain that his voice alone made the snowman shrivel. "How the hell are you achieving that when you're being a bully yourself?"
"I'm not a bully!" Alfred cried. A flash of fear flickered across his blue eyes, and Arthur knew he was thinking about Makisig.
"Wow, Jones, I'm not an idiot. I know a jerk attitude when I see one," Lovino shot at him.
"Are you talking about Makisig?" Alfred demanded nervously. "Because if that's the case, I'll have you know that I apologized to him!" Even though Makisig never accepted the apology, it was the thought that counted, wasn't it?
"No, but don't think that I've forgotten about that," Lovino said harshly. "I'm talking about—about Braginski."
"...oh," Alfred said awkwardly. He shifted uncomfortably; did Lovino know that Alfred made Ivan cry? "What of it?"
" You pretty much told him that everyone wants him to die and he's the most hated kid in school," Lovino said coldly. "I don't know about you, but I don't think that's the best way to make the school a better place if you're being a bully to fight a bully."
"I wasn't trying to be a bully," Alfred argued, his fists clenched.
"Hard to believe!" Lovino retorted. "I was there when you had your little show, and for a moment I forgot who was being the real bully. You stoop pretty low!"
"Shut it!" Alfred automatically said, his voice strained with discomfort. "I was just trying to stop him from messing with people, that's all!"
"But you're messing with people!" Lovino yelled. "How does that make you any better?"
"I'm not—that's just—I never meant to be a bully!" Alfred stammered. Arthur couldn't help but remember that this was not the first time Alfred said this.
"Yeah, then next time you stand up for someone, you don't have to completely crush the other person in the process. Makes you seem pretty hypocritical, you know?"
"Is that why you've been avoiding me?" Alfred said, his voice falteringly. "Wait—does everyone think this? Or is it just you?"
"I don't know!" Lovino said brashly. "All I know is that you walk around with some holier-than-thou attitude when in the end you're as genuine as a Puritan!"
"I'm not a bully!" Alfred said desperately, remembering his old fears. "I'm not, I swear!"
"You sure do one hell of a job trying to prove it," Lovino said before trudging out of the yard, leaving an air of burning indignation behind. Alfred spun around, opening his mouth to retort, but no words came out. He hesitated, his face changing from anger to nervous fear.
Am I really a hypocrite?
Alfred gulped, suddenly very aware of his loneliness. He spun around on the spot, searching desperately for anyone else. For a moment his eyes locked directly into Arthur's, and Arthur almost expected Alfred to jump back in surprise at the sight of him and speak to him, but instead Alfred turned away from the invisible spot, leaving Arthur slightly crestfallen.
But all I wanted was to help.
Not be another bully.
Not again.
Arthur heard the whooshing wind spinning in his ears and he knew what to expect. He closed his eyes and let the time whiz by him without protest.
"…a little different now," Alfred's voice said quietly. He was sitting outside of the school on a wooden bench, his knees drawn to his chest. Toris was pacing on the pavement in front of him, wrapped in a yarn scarf and sometimes slipping in the snow.
"Is Braginski still giving you problems?" Alfred asked Toris.
"Um…I'm fine," Toris mumbled, glancing around the school courtyard.
"I haven't seen you around lately," commented Alfred. "He hasn't forced you to tag along with him, has he?"
"No," Toris admitted quietly. "I've been…uh, I've been with Feliks lately."
"Feliks? Is he that short kid that shakes all the time?" Alfred asked.
"No, he's the blond guy with the barrettes." Gilbert suddenly appeared behind Alfred, his eyes hardened and face grim. "Raivis is the short one. You know, the kid you stopped Braginski from messing with last Tuesday?"
"Oh," Alfred said blankly. "I knew that."
"Of course you did," Gilbert said coldly. At that moment, Toris's phone started to ring. He dug into his rucksack for it and pressed it against his ear.
"Hello? Toris speaking," he said. "Oh—oh, hey, Feliks. Yeah, I'm outside the school…what's up?" He looked up at Alfred before standing up from the bench. "I'll see you around, okay?"
"I guess," Alfred said blankly. Toris gave him a rather bemused look before walking away from Gilbert and Alfred, heading toward the end of the sidewalk where he would meet up with Feliks. Alfred sighed and stretched his arms over his head.
"He's always gone, it seems," Alfred said. "Barely see him during the time."
"Maybe you missed him in the midst of all your followers," Gilbert said, crossing his arms.
"Come on, Gilbo, they aren't my followers," Alfred said lightly. "Fans, maybe. The word 'followers' seems a bit too much."
"Fans?" Gilbert repeated in a hollow voice. Alfred shrugged and grinned.
"Hey, a superhero has to be some sort of role model, right?" Alfred said brightly.
Gilbert didn't respond immediately. He cast his eyes toward the ground, the cold pavement covered with icy skin.
"Tell me something, Alfred," Gilbert said. The white snow seemed to pale in comparison to Gilbert's face. His eyes looked like drops of red in the pure snow. "Why do you do it?"
"What?" Alfred said confusedly. "Do what?"
"Fight Braginski," Gilbert said in a low voice. Alfred raised an eyebrow.
"I thought I made it sort of clear," he said warily. "What other reason is there? I wanted to save the school from—"
"Why do you want to save the school, then?" Gilbert interrupted. "If you wanted to be a good role model or something, did it have to be fighting the school bully?"
"What's wrong with what I do, huh?" Alfred demanded. "You're not going to pull a Vargas on me, are you?"
"A what?" Gilbert said, raising his eyebrows.
"Nothing," Alfred said quickly. "No, really, why are you asking me this?"
Gilbert turned to face Alfred, his eyes sharpened. "Who are you fighting for, truly? The students or yourself?"
"Myself?" Alfred repeated, aghast. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Stopping Braginski from taking his anger or violence out on people is nice," Gilbert said in a strange voice, "but you have no eyes for the person you're even standing up for. You fight. You yell. You seek revenge. But you don't even know what you're doing."
"What the hell is this?" Alfred said angrily. Arthur jolted; did he hear a trickle of fear in Alfred's voice? Alfred's façade, his attempt to white out his past sins, was slowly being scratched off. "Do you hear yourself, Beilschmidt? Are you seriously saying that I don't even understand?"
"Do you?" Gilbert said sharply. "Did you, last Tuesday when you didn't even check if Raivis was all right after Braginski ran off? Did you, when you threw rotten fish into his car while the rugby team cheered you on like some star player? Did you, when Yong Soo was beaten up but all you cared about was throwing punches?"
"What are you trying to say?" Alfred shouted, his eyes wide with indignation and fear.
"You aren't doing this to be a nice person, are you?" Gilbert demanded. "You just want a reason to hate Braginski." He narrowed his eyes. "Or is it because you want to prove to the world about yourself?"
"Dammit, Beilschmidt," Alfred said quickly. "What have I got to prove? I don't need to show the world something they can already see for themselves!"
"Do you really think I haven't noticed what's going on?" Gilbert said. "You aren't fighting Braginski so you can protect anyone. You're doing it to win people's favour!"
"Are you saying that only because I'm getting more accepted by everyone?" Alfred said too quickly. "Is that what it's all about?"
"I don't give a damn about your ranking in the status quo," Gilbert said coldly. "But you aren't doing this because you want to save people. You want the slaps on the back of congratulations and the awe-inspired stares. You're happiest when everyone crowds around you but you don't even check if anyone is all right after the fight or bullying. You forget about them."
"What's wrong with you?" Alfred said frenetically. "Accusing me of all that—I'm not looking for popularity! I'm not looking for the fan clubs!"
"Then what?" Gilbert challenged. "What is it?"
"I don't want to be the school bully anymore!" The words slipped right out of Alfred's mouth, and now he couldn't stop talking. "After all that business about me being a bully against Patanindagat—I'm not that person! I'm better than that! I need people to know that!"
Gilbert stared at Alfred. Alfred shuddered, feeling extremely dirty both inside and out. The true intentions came out, and it tasted absolutely terrible.
"So all that—it was just to put you in a better light?" Gilbert deadpanned. Alfred swallowed hard and crossed his arms tightly. Gilbert became more vehement and his voice rose dangerously. "So—so you thought that just because you're bullying the bully, you're redeeming yourself of what you did before?"
"You don't understand," Alfred said feverishly.
"Then make me," Gilbert said sharply. "Make me understand, because all I'm getting from you is that you were being a phony all this time."
"I'm not!" Alfred said, though his voice faltered. Arthur was standing behind Alfred and he saw to his surprise that Alfred's hands were shaking. "I'm not a phony! I wanted to be a good person!"
"How the hell did you achieve that?" Gilbert shouted. Arthur backed away slightly. "What part of the stupid pranks and the fights and the shouting matches made you a good person?"
"Everyone else accepted me back!" Alfred snapped. "To them, I'm not the bully! I'm better than that!"
"How?" Gilbert cried out. "How is this making you any better? You aren't doing this for them! You're doing this for you!"
"What do you want me to do?" Alfred shouted. "What do you want from me?"
"I want you to stop being a liar," Gilbert said bitterly. "Stop pretending you feel some way when in truth you don't."
"And what comes with that? Should I just stop what I'm doing immediately?" Alfred said indignantly. "Just throw away everything?"
"Are you hesitating now?" Gilbert said icily. Alfred gritted his teeth, not responding immediately. Gilbert clenched his teeth before turning on his heel and leaving Alfred.
"W—" Alfred was about to shout out and stop Gilbert, say all right, I will stop, I'll be true—but he stopped himself. Arthur wanted to grab Alfred by the shoulder and shake out the pride or the hesitation or whatever it was that stopped Alfred, but it was too late. Gilbert was out of earshot.
Alfred looked as if he wanted to let a scream erupt from his throat. He punched a nearby oak tree, its barren branches shaking slightly at the impact.
I am a hero, he thought frantically to himself. I'm not a bad person. I'm not who I was before. I hate who I was before.
I've changed.
I'm better.
I have to be.
Fear infected his nerves and Alfred was vulnerable. He felt the painful stab of each snowflake. He heard the jeers and insults thrown at him by the wind. He winced as the trees around him pointed at him with their gnarled fingers and hate him.
I'm a better person now.
I'm better.
I am.
But the comforting thoughts were slowly faltering…
"Glad you could make it, Jones."
Alfred stepped inside the dimly lit house. Loud music was blaring from another room and the foyer was already crowded with many teens. When Alfred entered, they all greeted him warmly and offered him a drink or some of the freshest gossip. Alfred smiled at the attention, but Arthur noticed that there was something unenthusiastic in his face. He seemed hesitant to be happy. Arthur squeezed his way through the crowd, trying to avoid bumping into anyone even though they didn't feel it.
"Of course I would make it," Alfred said, taking a bottle of sparkling water from Francis. "Why wouldn't I?"
"Maybe you're too busy saving lives in the streets of the city," Francis joked, winking. Alfred flinched slightly, unbeknownst to anyone. "Lovely of you to squeeze this party into your schedule."
"Am I late?" Alfred asked, even though he didn't really care if he was.
"Not too late. Antonio hasn't shown up yet," Francis said. He spotted Victoria, the Seychellois girl, eating profiteroles in the kitchen and grinned. "Well, have fun, Jones." He immediately sidled off, leaving Alfred to drown in the ocean of people and loud voices and music. Alfred spotted Gilbert in a significantly less crowded corner and immediately shed off his talkative classmates to reach him. When Gilbert saw Alfred coming toward him, he bit his lip before stepping out of the shadows.
"I want to talk to you," they both said right as they met each other halfway through the room. Alfred raised his eyebrows in surprise, a little wary of what Gilbert had left to say.
"Look, I'm sorry," Gilbert said quietly. "I was pretty horrible to you."
"Don't be," Alfred said.
"What?" Gilbert said falteringly.
"Don't be sorry," Alfred repeated. "I know you meant everything you said, and honestly, I don't blame you."
Gilbert frowned slightly. Alfred gave a small shrug and averted his eyes.
"I should be the one saying sorry, anyway," Alfred mumbled.
"Not to me," Gilbert said. "To everyone else. They're the ones who don't know you're only being that hero to redeem yourself from Makisig."
Alfred's cheeks were tinged pink, but he gave a sigh and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I know." Arthur could hear the hint of hesitation in Alfred's voice. It seemed like the last thing Alfred would do was announce to the student body whose approval he had just earned that he was never who they thought they were.
"Just…don't get yourself in crazy stuff that doesn't do anything, okay?" Gilbert said.
"Like what?"
"You know what I mean. Stupid pranks or fights that aren't the kidding kinds. They don't…do anything," Gilbert said.
"All right, all right," Alfred said. He held out a hand. "Truce?"
"I never knew we were fighting in the first place," Gilbert said, taking Alfred's hand.
Alfred cracked a wry smile before patting Gilbert on the shoulder. "Good man. Hey, let's shake off that damper and get the party going on. Everyone's probably bored to death without us to spice things up."
Gilbert laughed and shook off Alfred's hand. "Aye, aye, captain." He rejoined the rest of the party in the kitchen. Alfred downed the rest of his sparkling water in one gulp and was about to follow everyone else when a voice held him back.
"You're here too, I see."
Alfred turned around and stiffened. Ivan Braginski was standing right next to him, a bundle in one hand and his other on Alfred's shoulder. Alfred immediately brushed Ivan's hand off of him and stepped back, gripping tightly on the neck of the empty bottle of sparkling water.
"What are you doing here?" Alfred said heatedly. The familiar rivalry and animosity were not bound by Alfred's promise and were steadily strengthening. "Who the hell invited you?"
"I am not here for the party," Ivan said icily. He gestured to the bundle under his arm. "My sister forgot her jacket. I didn't want her walking back home cold."
"Right," Alfred said, narrowing his eyes. "Well, then, just give it to me and I'll give it to her. Or give it to Francis. He let you in, didn't he?"
"He didn't seem to mind that I wanted to give it to her myself," said Ivan. "I don't see why you should, considering you aren't even the host."
"I can feel however way I want about you," Alfred said heatedly. "And you still can't find her? Couldn't just call out her name or something? Or are you trying to pretend you belong in this party and join in?"
"Like I would even want to be in the same presence as you," Ivan said coolly. "This entire house's aura is considerably blighted now that you're under its roof."
"Guess it didn't bother you so much that you couldn't just leave the jacket on the door step," Alfred retorted.
"You may not care that much about your sibling, but I prefer that my sisters are kept warm and not have to wear soaking wet clothing," Ivan hissed.
"Oi!" Alfred said sharply. "What are you talking about? Of course I care about Mattie! I'm his big brother!"
"Difficult to say, considering no one ever sees you interact with him while you're drowning yourself in your little fan clubs," Ivan said loftily.
"You've got a problem with my popularity too?" Alfred said, annoyed. "I guess it's understandable, since this is coming from the kid who has no real friends unless he uses threat."
Ivan's eyes flashed dangerously. "Tell me, Jones, is this your little way of being the 'good guy' in your own little world?"
"I am the good guy," Alfred contradicted hotly. "I don't threaten anyone to like me, unlike you!"
"So you aren't like me. Of course, that makes you so much better," Ivan said dangerously. His voice lowered and it brought chills down Arthur's spine. "You are no hero, Jones."
Alfred looked as if he wanted to protest and strike Ivan with more retorts and insults, but no words reached his tongue. Arthur saw how Alfred's body stiffened at the familiar accusations.
"You're no better than anyone," Ivan said harshly. "You strut through the school with your holier-than-thou mindset, convinced that you are the only good person in the world, when in fact you're the very opposite. Who the hell are you saving? Everything you've done did nothing to help anyone."
Alfred's knuckles were white because he was gripping on the neck of the bottle too tightly. Anger was searing in his eyes and he was biting down so hard that his jaws ached.
"Pull all the shit you want with me," Ivan said, "but you won't ever be any better than I am. You will never be a hero. No one is going to ever forgive you."
It all happened so fast that Arthur couldn't even utter a cry. Alfred swung his bottle at Ivan's head, slamming the glass against his temple. Ivan fell against the wall and the bottom lf Alfred's bottle shattered. Alfred pinned Ivan against the wall by the throat, not unlike how Ivan had done to Gilbert long ago in that alleyway. But this time, Alfred had a jagged broken bottle in his hand, and he knew it all too well. Arthur let out a yell of alarm when Alfred's hand was poised before Ivan, anger possessing him like a demon. For a moment, Arthur had forgotten that Ivan was alive and well in the present and thought that Alfred would plunge the glass through Ivan's throat.
"ALFRED!"
Before Alfred could look up, he was shoved out of the way. The glass flew out of his hand and nearly hit the grand piano beside him. Alfred let out a yell of anger and shock when the person pulled him away from Ivan. Arthur took a closer look and realized it was Ludwig holding him back.
"Alfred, what are you doing?" Ludwig yelled. The whole house with its laughter, music, and conversations suddenly quieted. "What in the world are you doing?"
Arthur looked up and realized that the people that had been in the kitchen were all now in the living room, staring at Ivan and Alfred with horrified eyes. They had seen the whole thing. A blond girl broke from the crowd and rushed toward Ivan, who was staggering back onto his feet. The look on Gilbert's face was absolutely stunned.
"What in the world are you doing, Jones?" Francis demanded. "Are you trying to kill people under my roof?"
Alfred was frozen in Ludwig's grip, realization of what he had just done dawning upon him. A look of fear grazed across his face as he saw the terrified and disillusioned faces of his peers all around him. There was no more awe or admiration in their eyes anymore.
"How dare you?" the blond girl, Natalia, screeched at Alfred, hugging Ivan tightly. "How dare you? What kind of monster are you? You could have killed him! You could have killed him!"
"What were you thinking?" another voice demanded wildly.
Alfred's heart was suddenly beating so fast that it could have easily jumped right out of his chest. The room was suddenly too crowded for him. All the eyes staring at him were burning his skin with their angry accusations. To them, he was no longer the cocky but brave rebel of the school. He was the violent monster who would have killed someone had Ludwig not stopped him in time.
"I didn't meant to—" Alfred tried to say, but his throat was suddenly so dry that he nearly choked on his own words. The words were worth nothing to everyone now. They need not his excuses or pleas.
They hated him.
They despised him.
And he knew they would all along.
Without another sound, Alfred tore out of Ludwig's grip and darted toward the door. He thought he heard Gilbert call out for him, but he wasn't sure. He didn't stay around long enough to find out. He burst through the front door while Arthur hurried forward in pursuit of him.
He was running. Running. Running. He didn't even know where to. He just knew that he had to get away. To vanish. To disappear without a trace. To pretend that he was never there.
His legs were powered by a frenzied panic. He could barely feel them move, only the ground under his feet as they pounded on the street. He couldn't feel the wind whistle past his ears or comb his blond hair as he raced through the winding streets and alleys. He couldn't feel the cold air bite fiercely on his skin, chilling his blood. That didn't make a difference, though. He was supposed to be coldblooded. Cold-hearted, if not heartless. Frosty blood wasn't supposed to hurt him.
He couldn't feel anything except his own heart thundering in his chest. It grew fiercer and ruthless at every beat until it was like a cannon was being shot at his chest continuously, threatening to kill him.
There were some people up ahead. He bowed his head and tried to hide from them, not slowing down. He accidentally stumbled and nearly crashed into the lamppost, letting out a ragged gasp that nearly tore his throat. A stranger's voice called out to him, but he did not answer. He wanted to vanish. Disappear without a trace. Pretend he was never there.
Disappear.
Just disappear.
And that was exactly what Arthur did.
"I'm sorry for the person I became.
I'm sorry that it took so long for me to change.
I'm ready to be sure I never become that way again
'cause who I am hates who I've been.
Who I am hates who I've been…"
-Relient K, "Who I Am Hates Who I've Been"