If you were to ask Alfred if he deserved to be where he is; he would give a heavy laugh, "Of course!"

And he did. Alfred worked hard when he wanted and when he could. The amount of effort Alfred would put in was definitely above average, and some teachers found his abilities in science and math to be extraordinary. The teen had times when he wanted to cry in frustration and want to quit – but the sheer amount of effort he put into his assignments and the time the boy spent doing them was appreciated.
m

Alfred was put under immense pressure. Lucky enough to move up his science class to a sophomore level and taking algebra 1 and geometry at the same time was truly an honor to him. The blond wasn't… prepared – but the news, and the grades would look good on college applications.

Quiet was definitely not Alfred's forte. He moved around too much. Spoke out of place, made his own way to success and somehow… Alfred always smiled.

It was never malicious, it was never spiteful or hostile. Alfred was the most genuine person anyone will ever meet. Alfred is never afraid to tell the truth because he knows if he tells the truth his kindness will force them to pay a small price. No one would have it any other way.

To everyone, Alfred was the definition of flawed, but nevertheless perfect somehow
So when he woke up in the middle of the night to a poke on his head and an 'Alfred-' he wasn't surprised.

"Hm?" The half-asleep boy had muttered as he tried to bury himself into the bedsheets because Alfred was far too lazy to drape one over.
"Alfred, can I asleep in your bed tonight." The voice was quiet and it was barely comprehensible, but the suffocating white noise made sure itwas the most important thing in the world.

Nodding his head – Alfred sat up. Thinking his glasses were perched on his nose, he realize that they sat resting on his nightstand.
Matthew took precaution to step back slightly. The young boy was nearly shoving his face over his brother. But Alfred did eventually set himself under the sheets and pull the covers open for Matthew.
"Hop on in..!" Alfred tried to voice enthusiastically, but also quiet and hoarse; and a yawn was what inevitably broke it his enthusiasm.

It was hard for Matthew to see, neither bother to turn on the light, and a nightlight (specifically there for Matthew thank you very much!) was far and the light that casted over the bed was few. So they had very little to work with.

Matt laid down on one of the fluffier pillows Alfred kept in the spot separating the bedside table and his bed. It fit perfectly where it wasn't in the way. Al never used it anyways. Found it much too cooling and hard to work with when he did finally find time to sleep.

They got comfortable. Shifted a few times maybe. And like every night like this, they kept their distance. Matthew always had a stigma for personal space – and Alfred respected that.
"So," He sighed and faced his little brother, "What was it tonight? Kuma getting into trouble again?"
Kuma was Matthew's imaginary friend. "No, Al. It was-"

"Or was it that ghost in your closet?! Because I assure you that I can kick it's ass if I need to!" The usually boisterous teen gave a very loud whisper and tried to smile.

"N-No," Matthew whispered, "It's-"

"Or was it your nightmares again? Because if you dream about a knight in armor like me – I could totally kick their ass still, guarantee-"

"Alfred that's not it!"

Alfred flinches. He let his excitement get the best of him.

"It's," Matthew's eyes in the dark glistened. There was a sniffle and a cough. "It's you…"

The air grew heavy and Matthew was sobbing lightly, tears were pooling and soaking into and on the pillow staining it. And Alfred stayed silent. Letting him cry and giving his brother room to speak.

"It's you, Okay! W-when dad took me to Nana's h-he was crying. And when Papa was able to get Feli to take me to his house it sounded like papa was crying too, and you r-really scared me!" He exclaimed and sat up as he wiped away the tears from the corner of his eyes. The child tried to calm down. Breathe in and out. But his imagination ran rampant for his excuse was the mere mindset of a young child. Barely noticeable, but a good nature that refused to be cracked.

Tears still fell though. Hiccups still found their way to creep into his throat He was still shuttering and coughing and scared. He was still worried and he still cried. Alfred quickly sat up though and wrapped his arms around the small frame that was his brother.

"H-hey Mattie, everything's okay!" Alfred tries to assure Matthew. Wrapping his arms around him and trying to calm him down, trying to comfort him – ease him into slumber somehow. Even if it was done by small satisfaction "Everything's oka-"

"Al, y-you have to promise you won't hurt yourself on purpose anymore!" Unusually calm Matthew was seemingly sputtering cried into exhaustion because he yawned with a shiver, took the blanket he was huddled under and tried to wipe his face, which was red and swollen from heated tears. "P-please…" the small voice muttered quietly, leaving only hiccups.

"Matt, I-" Alfred began with a heavy sigh, "I can't promise anything." He stated truthfully, hugging him tighter.

There was still a sniffle and a hiccup, Matthew's voice cracked as he hollered wrathfully. His brother hoping it was hidden through the walls. "B-but you have to..!"

A sharp exhale and a deep inhale almost left Alfred dizzy. "…I won't anymore." The lie sank in.

"I promise…" The teen smiled gently, forcing Matthew to lay on the pillow, retain normal breathing; and fall gracefully to sleep.
Alfred knew for sure he couldn't keep that promise.

And it made him sick to his stomach.

Just before getting up, he realized the weight that usually laid on his side was gone. This was abnormal, Arthur never woke up this morning on the weekends.

The Frenchman outstretched his arm to feel next to him. It was still slightly warm.

"Arthur, what are you doing?" Francis groaned in annoyance and sitting himself up slowly, avoiding a head rush by a landslide.

"On my laptop." Arthur replied stoically and typed even faster if that was even possible for him.

"So, you're stressed?" Francis asked, trying to sound surprised, but it came off as mostly sarcastic.

Arthur huffed dramatically.

Francis the covers off his body and stretched with a yawn.

He's getting old.

The daylight drifted through the lightly layered curtain. It felt warm, and the windows were fogged due to the morning temperature outside. Francis shrugged and bit his lip.

Rustling could be heard from across the room, the typing of a keyboard, and a disgruntled Arthur sat there in place still.

"Get up and make yourself useful." The Brits head slowly rose up from the keyboard, staring at Francis begrudged.

"You have always been a handful in the morning." Francis chuckled to himself as he rose from the bed and made a slow walk towards his husband – who was more focused on the computer screen. The curtains were closed, so the screen was illuminating the corner of the bedroom, and the closer Francis walked towards it, the more blinding it got.

He kissed his cheek, "You're really going to blind yourself." A broken French accent huskily whispered into Arthur's ear.

"Yes, I love you too, now be a dear and make me tea. I am parched." The man before him blushed, and kept his undying attention elsewhere.

"You're scared then?"

Arthur turned his gaze towards Francis briefly.

"How so?"

Francis could be a sympathetic man, he IS a sympathetic man. A hopeless romantic, and has a knack for lovey-dovey books on sale at Barns and Noble, they were small and simple reads to pass the time when he had it.

"You've woken up earlier than usual."

"That doesn't mean I'm scared." Arthur mumbled.

"How long have you been awake for?"

"Going on three hours." He admits. "But I don't see how that makes me scared!" Arthur exasperated.
"Did you check on him?"

"Yes."

"Then you're at least worried. And you better set that pen down!" Francis warned as he swatted the pen down in Arthur's right hand.

"I just… I need a distraction," In the past, Arthur was never really able to admit things so calmly and clearly, although, over the years, Francis might've changed that.

"And this is your problem." The man previously sitting in the chair adjacent to Arthur suddenly perked up and forcefully (if not gracefully) took hold of Arthur's slender fingers.

"Let's go downstairs, and I can make breakfast for the lot of us-" Francis went for a kiss on the left cheek, "-I can make you tea-" Another kiss on the opposite cheek, "And then we can relax with a book or two." He finally kissed his knows.

The Briton rested his head on his husbands shoulder and hummed. "Fine, just… don't worry about me. Please?"

Francis chuckled. "I will never stop."

He finally kissed him.

"Why is it so cold down here?"

Arthur looked up from his tea, "Oh look who's up."
Alfred wrapped his arms around himself, he was still in a thick sweater, but he was still cold, and he was visibly shivering to the point he was blowing warm air into his hands. Like he was outside in the snow, with gloves. Like a kid . Nevertheless – the teen walked up to the refrigerator and took out the half gallon of milk.

Arthur watched in scrutiny, "If you're so cold, get my sweater hanging up by the door."

"Nah," Alfred responded as he set the milk on the side counter next to the coffee pot. "I'll get this coffee and get warm myself." He responded triumphantly, if not, a bit too natural for Arthurs liking. As if everything was completely… forgotten. Any morning here was the same thing. Matthew was the early riser, Francis was usually next, Then Arthur when he wasn't beaten from work. Finally Alfred after he had actually decided to go to bed.
His son always told he could 'rise with the sun' when it wasn't a school night, but it was still a mystery for everyone else if this was actually true.

"If you insist." The Brit wasn't too please, but didn't push him any further.

The coffee was bitter, undeniably so, but it felt nice when it went down his throat. But compared to the last couple days where staying hydrated was a hard thing to do, and combat dry mouth, he'd take a slight burn down his throat any day.

Alfred could have easily fell back asleep though. But the kitchen island as too cold to lean his cheek on, and he slept too much.

"Bonjour, Alfred!" Francis sounded a bit too bright this morning. His voiced optimism made Alfred jump and almost spill his coffee, yet he still left a kiss to the back of Alfred's head.

"What would everyone want for breakfast, I can make some eggs and bacon, Alfred?"

"Hm?" The blond swings another drink from that bittersweet goodness with a frown from the interruption.

"Breakfast?" Francis prompts.

Alfred lightly laughed, and set the empty mug down on the marble countertop. "I'll be fine, I gotta take a shower anyways, I stink and stuff," The chair legs slide over the floor as Alfred makes his way to set the empty coffee mug in the dishwasher.

Alfred's arm had been caught by his Papa, he did try retching his arm back with a squeal.

"… are you okay, really?" Francis asked concerned. Because he was worried, and trying to help him was an instinct of the sort.

The teen smiled brightly and laughed. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?!"

Francis almost believed it.

Almost.

Time back home was about as exciting as was to be expected. Everyone had their own internal issues to work through, and Arthur always had the occasional unexpected meetings he absolutely needed to have with his boss over the phone. The meetings usually meant Francis crashing into Arthur's space just to hear the self-satisfied squawk of outrage from the Englishman. And meetings with his boss were not as fun as they should be because Arthur absolutely refused to get the hint, even when Francis was already on direct course of removing his shirt.

But as natural as somethings come, Arthur yelling in defense, "I'm on the bloody phone!", things much actually go naturally as well. Like the T.V remote.

When that gets lost in any family. Brother turns on brother, and husband turns on spouse. Quite literally.

"Dammit," another drawer was slammed closed, and Francis just casually sits on the love seat unaffected.

"Dear, have you checked the TV stand?"

"Of course I checked the T.V. stand!"

"Have you double checked the kitchen?"

"Don't be so daft Of course!" Arthur practically yells.

Finally the Brit walks towards the occupied seat and stood directly in front of Francis whose face was occupied in a book. Well, as occupied as he could seem to be.

"Get up." Arthur seethed relentlessly.

"I'm sorry?" Francis smirked.

"I said get your ass up, I need to see if you're sitting on the remote." The Brit was definitely not going to (try) and throw Francis off the couch.

Francis rested his chin onto the fist of his hand. "I'm not sure that I should let you have it."

"Francis, I have today to catch up on Young and the Restless, let me have my guilty pleasures." Arthur is nearly slumping tiredly over his husbands body.

"Fine, fine, but a kiss shall suffice, yes?"

Arthur growled but complied, Francis move himself form the love seat only for Arthur to realize that the remote wasn't there.

Perfectly balanced, as all things should be.

The next day was school, and he was given specific instructions to go to the art room at lunch because Feliciano would keep him company.

What a load of horseshit.

But that morning they were running late, and Alfred was just so tired that maybe sleeping five minutes after shutting his alarm off was a good idea. And mind you - quite typically, Alfred sees himself as a fairly intelligent human being.

Even as Alfred was being rushed to throw on some shoes and at least a hoodie, he was still forced to stop and at least eat a granola bar. Of course the blond took it.

But it was also shoved into his bag, later to be forgotten.

"Come on Alfred, we don't have all day!" Arthur yells up the steps.

Alfred is nearly throwing himself all over the place trying to shove the last notebook into his bag and phone in his pocket.

"Yeah yeah, I'm coming!"

By the time the first bell signalling high schoolers to enter the school, Alfred had seven minutes to get to his first period, which was Algebra, this was one of the easier subjects. The morning temperature had left him shivering and what felt like delusional. And the books in his arms felt heavy.

Alfred scurried past kids in the hall, some were talking amongst themselves, and others surrounded themselves with a group. Some talked lowly, others we're trying to yell amongst the sea of teenagers. The week left some upperclassmen smelling like alcohol, stale cigarettes, and weed, teachers either were to oblivious to notice or just didn't care. Probably the ladder.

Trying to speed walk down the hallway was next to impossible with the sea of kids hoarding themselves through the halls. It was making Alfred even more anxious to get to class as it became suffocating. Hard to breathe, Alfred looked towards his right.

For a moment, just a moment; Alfred locked eyes with Kiku. His chest tightens even more as he quickly pushes through the crowd as hard as he pushes years of old memories to the back of his mind. Yet, every single day Alfred thinks just towards himself; "We used to be friends once," Time change, and taste evolve. The ending of era's was inevitable.

Without paying too much attention, Alfred took a hard left and landed right on his ass with an 'Oof!', books and papers.

He doesn't look up as he scrambled to throw his papers and book back together as quickly (but not very efficiently.) as possible.

"Oh, shit dude!" Tried speaking above the slowly diminishing sound of casual chatter. Feeling eyes peering down at him, and yet the boy still worked to pick up the items as an oddly familiar gaze bestowed on his features. "I'm so sorry!" His Algebra book sat painfully on his left arm and scattered to retrieve the other papers.

"Nyet, do not apologize." The voice talked almost casually as he leaned down to help Alfred pick up his things. Pencil bag, notebook, and an English writing assignment book, was laid next to Alfred to pick up.

The American boy recognized the voice almost immediately - "O-Oh, Ivan..!" Cheeks began glowing a very deep red over relatively pale American skin, "How're you..?" Alfred asks nervously shoving his glasses up the bridge of his nose, doing this in an act of nervous nature.

"Ah, I am doing well Alfred. And you? You seemed to be gone for a while." Ivan seemed unaware of the tense (or even slightly cheeky) demeanor of the person in front of him. But as Ivan smiled at him, eye-level mind you, Alfred swore he could have fainted. Ivan, an upperclassmen was talking so easygoing to him. Granted, they were in the same science class together, and he just a grade higher; but Ivan was… Ivan . Tall, smart, oddly endearing...

"Oh, yeah, don't worry, I was just sick… but I'm fine now." Alfred technically wasn't lying, but again chuckles as the Russian kindly sets the rest of his items in his arm with the other things. His cheeks were still fuming, and if Ki… and if anyone were to ask, he'd just say he was a little too warm.

"I do hope so, I miss having you around." He waves brightly, and walks off with his scarf trailing contently around his neck.

Oh Ivan, Alfred misses having you around too, and as he climbed the next set of stairs, and took seat at a desk; he used the free time he had to daydream.

Except this time he wasn't alone in it.