Alternate title for this chapter: I Can't Lie. It's a song title by Maroon 5, and the perfect companion song for this chapter.

Daybreak broke and Arthur stirred when the sun peeked in through the curtains. His body had been tense during the night, becoming hyper-sensitive to having Alfred sleeping so close to him. During the remainder of their trip they had asked for their rooms to change from a double bed to a single bed. This hotel had been no exception. Now Arthur wished dearly it was a double as originally planned, if only because he flinched at every move Alfred made, fearing it was him turning to talk again. Luckily, Alfred had been just as stiff on his side of the bed, hardly moving at all.

When Arthur rose in the morning, he noticed Alfred had already been up and had packed his things. Arthur's heart sank at seeing how rushed he was to leave the hotel. He left the room while Arthur was in the shower, only coming back with a quick breakfast from a nearby convenient store that had bitter tea and flaky pastries. Arthur's stomach needed something a little more sustainable to last him through the four hour drive back to London, but he didn't ask for anything else. He simply packed up his things as well, loaded the car, and left.

The drive back to London was as awkward as the drive out of it had been, if not more. Alfred remained quiet, not jumping in excitement as he had before. Arthur didn't try to initiate any conversations, rarely even looking over at him. They stopped for bathroom breaks and for a late lunch, but other than that, there was no communication.

With London only an hour away, Arthur decided he'd had enough. He and Alfred couldn't go back to not talking to each other as they had the month before the vacation. His nerves and Alfred's heart couldn't handle the emotional separation. And, quite honestly, it was getting old.

"I'm hungry," Arthur declared suddenly. He startled Alfred who glanced over with a raised eyebrow. Arthur began pulling off the highway. "Just a small break."

"We already ate," Alfred commented. He eyed the pub with a frown.

Arthur parked, and then scrambled out of the car. He heard Alfred sighing loudly as he followed, slamming the car door behind him. Arthur strode into the pub and went to a far away booth in the corner. Alfred looked around, and then slowly joined Arthur. He sighed once more when he took a seat.

A waitress came to deliver the menus, and Arthur took it politely, but didn't open it. He laid it flat on the table and stared at Alfred. Alfred was skimming the back at all the alcohol. He was obviously ignoring Arthur's intense gaze.

"Alfred," Arthur said sternly. When Alfred didn't look at him, he tried again. "Alfred. We need to talk."

Another sigh, but at least he was looking at him now. "What? What more do you need to say?"

"I don't want this to be the end of us," Arthur started. He paused when the waitress came to dump two glasses of water on the table. Quickly, Arthur took a swig to cool his tight throat. "I want there to be some conclusion to all of this."

"We came to one last night," Alfred mumbled. He was sliding his finger up and down the glass, letting the perspiration collect on his finger tip. "You don't care about me and don't want to date me."

Now it was Arthur's turn to sigh. "I never said I didn't care about you. I said that I do, but not to the extent of wanting to date you."

"Why?" Alfred hissed as he leaned across the table. His eyes had a furious fire behind the normally unruffled blue. "What's keeping you back?"

"Me," Arthur replied calmly. He would not be disturbed by Alfred's anger. He deserved any vitriol Alfred was going to spit at him, but he wouldn't let that keep him from saying what needed to be said. "I am what's keeping me back. I am not emotionally ready. I explained this to you last night."

Alfred shook his head. "You said I deserve someone better and all of that nonsense."

"You do," Arthur started.

"Don't assume you know what I want," Alfred snapped. He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. His face had grown red with anger. Arthur had to look at his lap as Alfred continued. "I told you last night that you're perfect. You're just… I want to be with you."

"Yes…I know…" Arthur ignored the painful pounding in his chest.

"Then…"

Now Alfred's anger had melted. He sounded distant and sad. His tone was now more of a child that had just seen their beloved pet being put to sleep. Arthur could hear Alfred's heart tearing in two again, and he was helpless to ease the pain.

Arthur balled his hands into fists in his lap. He had to look up, no matter what look Alfred was giving him. "Alfred… I… I told you how much you mean to me. But as I said before, there is still this… restraint within me that I need to figure out. By myself. You can't help me. Pretending this will work out and then realizing it won't in the end would be much more painful than what you feel right now."

"You don't know what I'm feeling," Alfred whispered pitifully.

"Yes I do." Arthur gulped. "I feel it too. You think I enjoy seeing you in this state? Knowing it's all my fault? Constantly…"

Arthur's voice broke and he had to look away. He snatched the napkin from the table and put it to his eyes in case a tear betrayed him and dripped out. Alfred reached over to take his hand, forcing their fingers to twine together. Arthur shivered at the touch.

"I don't blame you," Alfred said. His voice was serious now. "Honest. Arthur, I never blamed you for this."

Arthur couldn't help but chuckle. "No, but I bet you blame my religion."

"Actually, I don't. I know that there are other Catholics and Christians and what not out there that question their sexuality too, and they have just as hard a time as you do."

Arthur nodded slowly. He was staring at the perspiration pooling at the bottom of Alfred's glass. He wasn't really listening anymore; the soft mumble from the television broadcasting some football game in the background, the chatter from the few residents of the pub, and the clatter from the kitchen were meaningless to him. His thoughts talked over one another, stumbling to and fro around his dark conscious, falling like glass and scraping against his emotions until they frayed, bent, and broke.

"Maybe you should branch out and find others to talk to?" Alfred suggested. "I'm sure they could help you a lot more than I could."

"I don't like going to help," Arthur replied, voice faint. He pulled back his hand, hiding it between his legs. "I can do this on my own."

Alfred resumed his heavy sighing. "Fine. But… I can't stay attached to you."

"I understand. That was why I wanted to tell you this. You deserve someone who can return your affections and will make you truly happy. In this state of mind I am in presently, well… I can't. I would like to, but…"

Alfred nodded. "Yeah… I got it. I get it now… You think you're doing me a favor?"

"I know I am." Arthur's voice was growing unstable, but he continued to talk. Even if he wavered he had to press on. "Staying with me will cause you to constantly be just like this. Unable to look at each other, holding back…tears… And…"

Alfred jumped out of his side of the booth and pushed his way into Arthur's side. He pulled him to his chest, and Arthur broke. He hadn't cried last night, allowing Alfred his time. But here in the pub, it felt as good a time as any. Here in this unknown pub in some small village off the main stretch of road.

Then again, anywhere with Alfred was a good place. No matter how much it hurt and how much he cried.

That was what Arthur thought back to when he lie in his bed alone at night. He stared up at the ceiling, listlessly petting Gentleman who slept against his side. He thought back to all the colors and sights and smells from that day at the pub, from the night prior to their departure, and especially that glorious week.

"It was glorious, wasn't it?" Arthur said aloud. "I had…an amazing time. I felt…comfortable. No… More than comfortable. I felt…happy."

Gentleman flicked his tail in his sleep, but paid Arthur no attention. Not until Arthur sat up. He stared intently at the opposite wall. He continued to talk to himself even after Gentleman turned his nose up at him and left the room.

"Yes… Happy. We were happy. I held his hand, and he held mine. I was happy being there. Seeing his smile. I felt no remorse. None. There was no guilt to any of my actions. Even now… I don't… I don't care. The only thing I care about is…that I made him cry… But I made him cry… because of me…Because I said I can't make him happy.

"But that's just stupid, Arthur. You did. For seven beautiful, wonderful, amazing days, you made him happy. Because…"

Because you were happy.

Something inside Arthur clicked. His heart made sense now. His brain no longer had anything to hold him back. Not his religion, not some excuse of being uncomfortable or not good enough, not even himself.

Gentleman watched from his cat bed as Arthur rushed out the door. He didn't particularly care, and if he had been a human he might have noticed that Arthur ran without taking his umbrella.

Arthur ran, and ran, and didn't stop running until he had made it to Alfred's flat. He could have driven; he could have taken the Underground. He could have done a lot of things. But somehow, running made the most sense. Because anything else would have just felt not fast enough.

He was stupid. There was no other word for his actions. For his bumbling mess of a ruined friendship. But maybe, maybe, oh just maybe, if he got to see Alfred right now, he'd tell him. Tell him everything. And then it was possible, or more than possible if he prayed, but it could happen. He and Alfred could be happy.

Happy.

Yes, happy. That was what he dreamt of all these nights, right? From the end of the vacation up until last night he had wild fantasies of he and Alfred, holding hands, kissing, enjoying each other's company, making love, and Arthur coming home to Alfred's smile. Nothing strange or odd. Just them.

Along the way, Arthur noticed sourly that it had begun to rain, but still he pressed on. He had to see Alfred. They had waited far too long for this moment. So many foolish twists and turns brought on by one or the other or both. Either way, it had led Arthur here.

Right here. At Alfred's apartment complex. He was taking out the trash, his hoodie turning a dark naval blue as the rain pattered down his shoulders.

"A-Alfred!" Arthur called breathlessly.

The man turned, but it wasn't Alfred. It was Matthew. He seemed surprised to see Arthur there, and then was even more shocked at his drenched appearance, wheezing against the gate.

"Arthur? Did you run here?"

"Is Alfred here?" Arthur gasped, ignoring any delays. "Please, I have to talk to him!"

Matthew, such a kind and gentle man, suddenly became defensive and cold. He stood between Arthur and the doorway. He stared Arthur down, sizing him up, and Arthur thought the man might actually come down and punch him.

"Why do you want to know?" Matthew asked bitterly.

"B-because! I have to talk to him! I've just… I need to tell him something." Arthur looked at Matthew desperately, realizing this was a test of will. He wasn't angry with Matthew; he had every right to protect his brother. "Matthew, I know I've ruined possibly the best friendship with anyone I'll ever have, but I aim to fix that. Right here. Right now."

Matthew narrowed his eyes. "Do you know how Alfred was after that little vacation of yours? Do you?"

Arthur winced. "N-not particularly, but I could infer by how he looked at work…"

"I bet you weren't even upset," Matthew snapped. "You didn't go home and cry, or hole yourself up in your room, eating away your problems, only to come out and give that heartbreaking pout."

Arthur knew that pout. He'd seen it one too many times.

Despite Matthew having good intentions, Arthur was getting fed up. He had come all this way. He wasn't in the mood to deal with a brother. He wanted the real deal.

"It's no business of yours to know how I was," Arthur said sternly.

"But it is my business of how my brother is. And it's no longer yours to know." The sheer vitriol in Matthew's voice honestly scared Arthur.

Still, he wouldn't give up. If he had to force his way into that complex, then he would.

"Please," Arthur tried once more. "I have to see your brother."

"You finally figured it out, eh?" Matthew asked suddenly. He frowned at Arthur's lack of a reaction.

Of course he had figured it out. The man who went out on sunny days with umbrellas and feared what he thought of himself more than the truth had just run well over fifteen miles through the rain. All for a boy. A boy. But he's the kind of boy you want so much it makes you sorry, still Arthur didn't regret a single day.

"You're too late."

Three words. They stopped Arthur more than they had when Alfred had first said, "I like you", and then more recently, "I love you." They hurt more, dug deeper, and tore at Arthur's heart more. Just the thought of those words being true was enough to take away what little air he had in the first place after stopping at the gate to catch his breath.

"You're…you're lying… It's only been…"

"Three weeks?" Matthew asked, interrupting Arthur. He smiled more and crossed his arms. "What? Did you think he'd wait for you? Sorry. He's moved on. He has a cute new girlfriend. He's out on a date with her right now. So even if you went to him and told him you loved him, he wouldn't listen. He's had enough of you."

Enough of you.

Arthur stumbled back, just as Alfred had that day when he saw Erica and Arthur out on their first date. He slipped into the gutter, mouth agape, and eyes wide in horror. Matthew watched in glee at seeing Arthur finally, finally react to having Alfred be the one to move away.

"I…I see…"

All of Arthur's demeanor had changed. He had come charging up, brimming with confidence and knowing exactly what he'd say. But now, armed with this terrible knowledge, even if he saw Alfred now, he'd probably turn and leave. He had no right to try. Alfred had finally had enough of Arthur. He should have seen it coming. Everyone had enough of him.

Just like Elizabeth at school, his parents before then, and his siblings all of his life. Why should Alfred be any different?

Because he was since they met? Since he had first asked Arthur to come to lunch with him and spent every lunch with him and taking him out on casual dates, talking to him, watching movies with him, bickering about petty things, touching one another secretly, Alfred had always been special.

So instead of saying anything more, continuing his quest to find a way to make it work, Arthur retreated. He hated being a coward, but he hated harming Alfred even more. It tore him up inside more than any words, intimate or not. With his head hanging low, Arthur trudged through the rain back home. He wouldn't call a taxi or take the Underground. If he got sick, he knew he'd deserve it.

If he had turned around he would have seen as Alfred emerged from the apartment complex.

"Matt?" His brother turned around, slightly alarmed. "There you are. You were gone so long, I thought you fell."

"Oh, no, sorry. I got to talking to someone." Matthew's cold demeanor was gone, replaced by his ever pleasant and non-threatening face.

"Oh…" Alfred glanced down the sidewalk. "Is that Arthur? Was he here?"

The thought of Matthew telling the truth didn't even cross his mind. He walked back up the steps and gently pushed Alfred back inside.

"No. He won't be coming again."

Weeks passed with no incident. Arthur never approached Alfred about their vacation, and if Alfred knew about Arthur's failed impromptu visit to confess, he never asked about it. The two had gone on their vacation to reset their friendship, and so they would. No more emotional baggage or confusing and tiresome problems that came between them.

For a few weeks, all was well. Alfred's birthday was a success thanks to Arthur's quick thinking in creating a surprise birthday party. And while they had shared a moment alone and exchanged kisses, they never went past it or talked more about it. The summer would remain quiet.

Fall was upon them fast enough, with the color changing on the leaves and the air growing bitter. Arthur remained alone as usual, only seeing Alfred at work. They had played with the idea of seeing each other outside of work again, but then Alfred's social life took over and he catered more to the many girls that came into his life. Arthur didn't mind.

Or at least he told himself so.

As winter was fast approaching, Alfred came up to Arthur as they headed home from work. The sky reflected an oncoming storm in the dark and heavy clouds that hung above them, threatening to break loose at any moment. Arthur clutched his umbrella with a small scowl at the weather.

"Hey, Arthur?" Alfred asked. Said man turned around and smiled pleasantly. "Hey, what're you doing this weekend?"

Arthur ignored the sudden thud in his chest that had been quiet for months in favor of replying to Alfred's question. "Aside from church on Sunday, nothing. Why?"

"Well, there's this party and it's gonna be put on by my American friends. They remembered you from my birthday party and want you to come too," Alfred answered. "So, what do you think?"

To be honest, Arthur did not want to go. He was surprised Alfred had even asked him. He was never one for parties. The birthday party was a hard enough ordeal already. Arthur thought Alfred knew this about him. Still, there was something else.

They had restarted their friendship, but it wasn't much of one. There was just lunch. That was a good start. Yes. It was a start. When they were first friends they started with just lunch and moved on to hanging out. Perhaps this was Alfred's hand at the hanging out again.

So against his initial fear of a party and a crowd and drinking and loud Americans again, Arthur agreed. Alfred smiled brightly and they arranged a time for Alfred to pick Arthur up Saturday night.

Saturday came and Arthur was dressed nice enough. He had put aside his usual sweater vests and long sleeves for a T-shirt from his old school days of being a punk. Then he struggled to fit back into his pants, faded from time and hard wear, and then went out to meet Alfred. Alfred approved his outfit with a smile, and they were off.

The party was audible from the street. Arthur crinkled his nose at the questionable neighborhood Alfred's friend lived at, but then he remembered Alfred mentioning that a lot of his American friends didn't strike it as easy as he had in finding a job out in London when they moved for internships. Many were jobless and on the verge of being sent back home, or were as jobless as the rest of England. So Arthur kept whatever harsh critiques to himself and promised he would have a good time.

Alfred's friend opened the door with a loud, "HEY!" and ushered the two inside. Alfred and his friend hugged, slapping the other on the back loudly, before Alfred turned to Arthur.

"You remember my pal, Arthur? He threw my birthday party!"

"Oh yeah!" the fried yelled over the music. The trio had wandered too close to the stereo speakers. Then again, it seemed there were speakers in every corner of the small flat. "Hey, nice to see you again!"

"Likewise!" Arthur shouted. He leaned over close to the man's ear, but his voice still was hard to hear. "Where can I find the beer?"

Alfred laughed. "Yeah! Work's been a bitch! I'd love something hard!"

Alfred's friend directed the two to the kitchen. There were American and British girls lingering around near the fridge, but they parted for Alfred, calling his name and smiling at him. Arthur followed along with his head bent low. Everyone knew Alfred, even the men. They called him to their sides and gave more hugs, offering him booze and clinking them together in celebration for nothing. Arthur had to struggle to find even something remotely good. The Yanks had all brought their imported beer. Disgusting.

Arthur stood awkwardly by the door, watching Alfred from afar. Then he slid into the living room looking for a place to sit. The couch looked dirty, probably from all the smoke the Americans were creating from their cigarettes. Everyone held a red cup and squeezed into a tiny corner of the room to grind one another in what Arthur guessed was dancing. He preferred the kitchen where there was a chance he could nab a seat at the table.

However, going back he found he had lost sight of Alfred. He grew panicked. Alfred was his drive home and he had made Arthur promise that he'd keep watch of him in case he drank too much. His American friends were a little too heavy on the alcohol, and there was a good chance Alfred was being peer pressured into drinking more.

Not only that, but Arthur hated being alone. Even though there were well over thirty people in this flat, Arthur didn't notice a single person.

"Alfred?" Arthur yelled over the low bass. A head appeared from around a corner and, with a sigh, Arthur moved to his side. "Where were you?"

"Sorry, bathroom," Alfred laughed. "What's up?"

"You told me to keep an eye on you," Arthur reminded him. He was close enough now that he didn't have to bellow just for Alfred to get a vague idea of what he was saying. "Is there anywhere else we can go? It's too loud in here!"

Alfred bit his lower lip. "Well, there's a balcony, but everyone's smoking out there."

Arthur sighed, agitated. He shouldn't have come. Even if it was to spend some time with Alfred outside of the office, it wasn't really time with him. It was more he was babysitting him. Alfred flirted with all the girls and Arthur drank himself into the beginning of a stupor.

So this was the rest of his life? He was to forever watch Alfred from afar? And it was all his fault. He had let the best thing slip away from him. It was his punishment.

Arthur noticed that he was low on beer and tapped Alfred's shoulder. "I'm getting another drink. Would you like something?"

"I'll go with you." Alfred turned to the girl he was chatting with and excused himself.

Together, the two of them squeezed through the crowd and back into the kitchen. It wasn't as full as it had been earlier that night. There were only a few couples making out in the corner and one other male standing by the fridge. He turned and bumped into Alfred.

"Oh! Sorry about that." He was English; one of the few Englishmen at the party aside from Arthur.

"Naw, it's my fault."

And, as Arthur knew he would, the man blamed himself once more before handing over the beer to Alfred as an apology. He wasn't nearly as drunk as the rest of the crew. Arthur snagged a bottle of his own, and tilted his head back as he chugged as much of the disgustingly watered-down beer as he could. Honestly, how could Americans like this?

"What's your name?" Alfred asked.

"Trey," the man replied. He smiled up at Alfred, only a centimeter taller than him. "You're a foreigner too, just like all the others. I like foreigners."

Alfred smirked. "So do I."

Arthur rolled his eyes and turned to look out the tiny kitchen window. The sill was dingy and covered in dust. The man of the flat didn't clean, judging by the state of his couch and kitchen floor. The window itself was covered in a white film from lack of wash, making it near impossible for Arthur to see outside. He caught that there were people outside, but he couldn't make out faces or even how many there were.

Bored, Arthur turned to find Alfred gone again. He sighed and moved towards the line for the water closet. The door was locked, but an unknown voice snapped at him to go away. Others in the hallway claimed they hadn't seen him. Arthur figured he must have gone to the living room with that Trey fellow.

After waiting a few moments for a couple to move aside from their blockade in the doorway, Arthur managed to come into the living room. He didn't need to look long for Alfred or for Trey. They were easily spotted on the couch.

Making out.

Arthur's beer probably fell, and he might have wobbled until he hit the wall, and he remembered knocking into someone, but his eyes were trained on Alfred's lips on another's man. It wasn't that he was kissing another man, or that he was even kissing someone else. Arthur had steeled himself to the knowledge that Alfred was popular with the ladies, and even with some men, and could seduce any of them with that smile. The problem was that should've been him.

That should be me…
That should be me…!
That should be me!

Arthur let go of everything in that moment. He prayed to God, and then he stopped. He cried out to Him, and then he was silent. Everything changed. He had stayed by His side in hopes that all would be clear. That he would find some pathway. But instead, he had been reduced to just some friend that was to watch from the sidelines as his life crumbled away.

No more. He wouldn't have it any more.

Alfred and Trey stopped when Arthur flopped on the couch next to Alfred and slung an arm around him, laughing all the while. "Who's your new friend?"

"Uh, Arthur, this is Trey," Alfred replied slowly. He watched Arthur carefully, unsure of his actions.

Trey held out a hand and smiled. "Nice to meet you. You're Al's best mate, eh?"

Arthur bristled at the familiar nickname Trey was already using. He knew Alfred hardly twenty minutes. Sure, they had snogged, but that didn't give him the right to just know everything. Arthur wasn't sure what was talking, the alcohol or his brain.

"That's right. I am." Arthur smirked as he grasped Trey's hand and squeezed. He enjoyed seeing Trey wince. "I'm his best mate. No one else. Nope. Just me. For the past year we've been tight. Very tight. So tight I bet I know more about him than you do."

"Arthur…"

"More than you ever could. In fact, if you asked me right now how tight we are, I would tell you exactly how tight."

"Arthur…"

Trey's hand was finally released. He shook it out once and then looked back at Arthur. "Okay, how tight?"

"Tight enough that I know where to touch to make him moan."

Alfred shot up and roughly pulled Arthur up beside him. "We're leaving now. Thanks for the… conversation, Trey."

"Hey, call me." Trey winked.

Arthur didn't miss that blush on Alfred's face, nor the shy smile he offered the other Englishman. Arthur wanted to lurch forward and throttle Trey's stupid neck, but Alfred's hard hold on him made it impossible for him to make much of any move.

They forced their way through the throng of people until they found the front door. Alfred didn't look back as he shoved Arthur outside, and then down the stairs, and finally out into the chilly midnight air. Arthur laughed as he clung to Alfred's side, just as he had all those months ago when he and Erica broke up. Perhaps it really was that time again, and Alfred's mouth didn't reek of booze and another man.

"Arthur, knock it off," Alfred grumbled, pushing Arthur away. "You can't."

"I can't what?" Arthur asked as he wrapped his body around a lamp post.

Alfred shoved his hands in his pockets and looked up at the empty night sky. The stars weren't visible in the bright lights of the city. It distressed Alfred all the more. "You can't do this. You can't push me away and tell me we're friends and then climb into my lap when someone else makes a move. You told me what you want, so I'm doing what you asked."

"What if…I made a mistake?" Arthur was staring at a puddle in the gutter. He couldn't see the stars either. He couldn't even see his own reflection.

"You didn't," Alfred replied hastily. "We've been around this block enough times to know."

"Have you…had enough of me?" Arthur's whispered words would have been lost in the silent evening if Alfred hadn't picked up on the last bit of his sentence.

He sighed and shook his head. "I am in…that sense. You'll always be my friend, but… Arthur, I can't stay forever. I have to leave. You said so yourself, I deserve to be happy. So… Here's my going to get my happiness."

Alfred handed over some pounds to Arthur and stared at him squarely in the eyes. "Go home. Take a cab and go home. Sleep all of this off."

"What…What about you?" Arthur asked, already knowing the answer.

"I'm going back inside."

Arthur didn't take the money. He just backed away, still staring at Alfred. It was the last chance. He had hinted that he wanted to go back to Alfred's arms, go back and never leave. But Alfred was already gone. Of course he was. Matthew had said that Alfred already had a date only two weeks after their vacation. And here Arthur was, months later, alone and clinging to another stupid dream.

"Good night, Alfred."

Arthur turned to walk away when Alfred stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Don't blame God, okay? This isn't His doing. You know you would hate yourself if you blamed any part of this on your religion. This is my choice."

Arthur shrugged Alfred off. He continued walking down the sidewalk as straight as he could, but found he kept wobbling. He focused his mind to keep going straight, but it was to no avail. His eyes teared up.

"Stupid… Walk straight… Walk right!" he said to himself.

But no matter how many times he put his good foot forward, he tripped over himself and ended up swaying to the right, to the left, forward, back. And after a time, he finally fell. He collapsed on the ground, sobbing into his hands, overrun by the emotional night and the lowered tolerance from the alcohol.

And looking back on it now, his break-up with Elizabeth the previous year really didn't hurt as much anymore. At least he still knew who he was. At least he still had somewhere to go to not be reminded of her at every corner. His move into his new flat and his new job was a big enough change to get his mind off of the fact he was alone, with no family and no beloved. But now, as he sat on the wet cement, Arthur felt more alone than ever.

When he went home it looked too empty. It needed Alfred there, on his couch watching movies, in the kitchen making popcorn, at his kitchen table making a mess with the cheese from the pizza. It just needed him. Arthur just needed him.

Too little too late, though. And now his world felt so cold. He wanted Alfred's heart to beat for him instead; beat like yesterday.

Hoshiko2's cents: Sorry for the long delay again. Trouble at home had taken a hard toll once more, and then I attended a wedding this past weekend. Thanks for all the patience, guys. I hope you all liked this.

As a side note, the 4th chapter of my Summer Camp event is Alfred's birthday party surprise that Arthur is said to have thrown in here. Feel free to go back and read it. I make mention of it once more in a later chapter.