A/N: I'm so sorry about slow updates! I've had so much schoolwork, it's all I can do to keep going. Enjoy!

December 20th

Though Alfred was popular and funny and was usually up for a good party, he was feeling pretty empty. When he first heard about the meeting-turned-party at Vlad's house, he'd been all for it, but now he regretted showing up. He was infinitely grateful to the Kirkland family for being a freaking ray of sunshine during a rainstorm, but he knew that sooner or later, people were going to find out he was living with Arthur and wonder why. He jolted out of his thoughts when someone slammed into his shoulder.

"Sorry, Alfred."

Alfred glared up at Ivan, who looked apologetic, but not overly so. "No worries," he said, a hint of malice in his voice. "So, your cousin still around?"

"She left a while ago. How did you know about that?"

"Well, I heard what a goddamn issue she caused with all that vodka. So I thought to ask if she's still around muddying up the town." This time, Alfred couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his statement. No way was he going to smile and act like things were a bowl of cherries with Ivan.

Ivan's violet eyes hardened. "I came to apologize, Alfred. But I must ask that you please do not insult my cousin."

"Apologize?" Alfred snorted. "There's nothing to apologize for. You're allowed to have your own opinions."

"How mature," Ivan commented. "But no. I heard that you're living with Arthur now. I'm sorry."

"That I'm living with Arthur?" Alfred asked, purposely playing dumb. "They have a giant house and shit. Why be sorry for luxury?"

"I'm sorry you got kicked out of your home," Ivan finally said. Alfred's eyes widened slightly, and he glanced out of one of the giant arched windows in Vladimir's living room. It was dark outside, the only light visible coming from a few streetlamps, but Alfred could tell that a light snow had begun to fall. "It's okay. I mean," he laughed, trying to keep bitterness out of his voice, "it doesn't really matter that much either way, does it? I know you don't want to be friends with me at all, but that's okay, too. I have other people in my life. I don't need you or my family. The people who love you no matter what are the only people who really matter in life." Alfred's vision began to blur.

"Alfred—" Ivan's hand tightened around his drink. He felt a pain in his chest. "I am very, very sorry."

"So am I," Alfred blurted. "About the cafeteria fight a few weeks back. When I called you a Communist and your father an alcoholic."

Ivan shrugged. "Well, it's all true. I mean, not the Communist part, obviously."

Alfred smiled. "Okay. I guess I'll see you later."

"Do you want to go to Café Italia?" Ivan asked before Alfred could walk away. Alfred paused. He and Ivan used to hang out at Café Italia all the time, always taking the table near the back. They went to get coffee or cookies or to study in a relaxing, cozy environment. And whenever Feliciano was working the counter, he never pressured them to leave—he always smiled and told them to take their time and do well on whatever test was coming up.

"We can take my mother's car," Ivan added. "I borrowed it to get here."

"Wait... are we friends again?"

Ivan raised an eyebrow. "If you want to be."

"Why?"

The Russian sighed. "Don't be mad, but Arthur called me and told me what happened with your family. No worries—he only told me and maybe Francis. But I realized then that the heart of you is probably more important than anything else. I apologize if that sounds stupid, but I have realized that who you love does not concern me and should not determine whether our friendship lives or dies."

Alfred smiled. "Fine. Let's go now. Maybe if Feliciano is working late shift, he can get us free brownies or something."

Ivan tossed Alfred his mother's car keys. "Right behind you, Jones. You're sober, you're driving." As they exited the house (ignoring staring classmates), Ivan cleared his throat. "So, things are okay between us? We can be friends again?"

"Duh," Alfred laughed. "To the Café Italia, my comrade!"

Arthur glanced at Michelle and Elizaveta, who were chatting in the living room and laughing. "Hey, did they make up or something?"

Lukas looked back. "I guess so. But that's good, in my opinion."

Arthur noticed that they were walking toward the front door in the entryway. "Um, Lukas, where are we going?"

"To my car. I need to show you something."

Arthur winced as the cold hit his face and squinted against the snowflakes that were now falling steadily. He followed Lukas until they reached the Norwegian's car. Lukas opened the door, shuffled around in his car for a moment, and then returned a moment later with a notebook. "Here it is." The two classmates returned to the warmth of Vladimir's giant house, which was even larger than Arthur's, and poked around until they found a relatively empty, quieter room. "This notebook," Lukas said, holding the thing up, "is most likely worth more than anything I own. People would probably kill others to get it. Or kill themselves to keep it safe."

"What is it, though?" Arthur asked, apprehension growing.

Lukas looked around the room quickly, verifying that no one was listening. "I call it the Scrapbook of Secrets—SOS for short. I started keeping it in ninth grade after... a certain incident. It's how I keep everything straight. Any information I find out about other people—useless or not—I write down here so I can put it all together later. It's been very helpful. I managed to find out the basics of the Confidants' Club before Antonio and Mathias told me. I pieced together the whole Alfher-Canella thing with it. And now, I'm working figuring out who the other two gamblers are." He flipped it open and handed it to Arthur.

The page Lukas had opened to was covered with random pieces of information written in different colors of ink, lines drawn between a few of the notes. "This is genius," Arthur marveled, his eyes flickering over a few of the things written down. "How do you know all this...?"

"People trust me," Lukas said. "People tell me things. True, I'd never give away a confidence. But I have it all written down in case I need to reference something."

Arthur moved to turn the page and Lukas grabbed the SOS. "Most certainly not! Were you not listening to me? People's deepest, darkest things are in here. You can only see the things that involve you."

"Okay, then," Arthur laughed. "Tell me what you know about the other gamblers so far."

"I was talking to Tino, and he accidentally let it slip that one of them is a guy and one of them is a girl. I'm mentally calling them Jack and Jill."

Arthur smiled. "Well, it'd have to be someone who's been here since at least ninth grade."

"So I went to talk to Kiku," Lukas continued, "and I got him to subconsciously admit that both of the other people are in our grade. I'd originally thought that Jill was Elizaveta, because—I'm sure you know this—of how she used to sell alcohol, but now I see that it isn't. The only parties Elizaveta ever really attended were after Louise passed away. Besides..." Lukas frowned. "She seems much too nice for something like that, now that I've gotten to know her."

"Ah, but there's the catch," Arthur said. "I believe you when you say that Elizaveta is innocent, of course. I really do like her. But looks can be very deceiving."

Lukas smiled. Lukas smiled. Are you even allowed to put those words next to each other? "Right, Arthur. I think you'll make an extremely helpful ally here..."

December 20th, hours earlier

Michelle took a deep breath and knocked on the Hédervárys' front door. Elizaveta appeared quickly, inviting Michelle inside. "Hi. My parents aren't here right now, so thanks for stopping by."

"I just wanted to say that I'm really sorry," Michelle said. "For saying those things. I want you to be my friend. I understand that everyone has secrets."

"No, no, no," Elizaveta insisted, shaking her head. "I'll forgive you if you forgive me for not telling the truth in the first place."

"Deal." Michelle grinned, turning back toward the door. "Please offer Arthur my apologies as well. That's all. I'm going to go."

Elizaveta smiled. "Well, you approve?"

"Of what?"

"Of Arthur, silly."

Michelle grinned. "Yes. Wait, how would you say it? Totally, Elizaveta. I ship it."

Elizaveta smiled in delight. "Michelle... thank you."

"Thank you. Ah, now I'm getting emotional. This is ridiculous..."

"Want to stay? We could watch a movie. Hang out."

"Sure thing," Michelle replied, flourishing her hand. "After you, Milady."

"Ah, we're going to have so much fun!"

"Whatever. As long as you don't bring out the karaoke machine," Michelle warned.

"Rude. My singing is perfection itself."

The two friends headed into the living room, friendship restored. Elizaveta knew that as soon as one problem was fixed, another one would appear, but she was hoping that this time, everything would stay fine. She and Michelle had reconciled, and things were going well with Arthur.

Maybe she'd even find her secret-keeper.