Author's Note: So, a tentative promise: With any luck, this story should be done by the end of the summer or at least shortly after. For everyone who has been around since the beginning, as well as those who stumbled upon my writing recently, thank you from the very bottom of my heart for indulging me. It means the world.

Another small note. Due to a detail I added in not this chapter, but the next one, I went back and added that detail in chapter 5 as well, and cleaned that chapter up a bit as well. I know, I know, retconning my own story, bad author. But these things happen when you come back to a story after three years. I plan an editing pretty much the entire hospiverse, anyway. So, if you want, give chapter 5 a skim. But you don't have to. It's just a small detail that will be explained later. :)

"Alfred, the answer is no."

Even though Arthur had said that same thing about five times now, Alfred knew that was not going to be his final answer. Not if he had anything to do with it.

"Come on, now! Don't be ridiculous!" Alfred gave Arthur a playful nudge on the arm, to which Arthur glared at him. "You're a senior, buddy! This is your very last chance!"

Arthur rubbed his arm indignantly, though Alfred knew he could not possibly have hurt him. "That may be, but I don't care. That kind of event is just not my idea of a good time."

Alfred was beginning to wonder what, if anything, Arthur did for fun. Besides reading and studying, he always seemed to find something wrong with whatever Alfred suggested. Maybe he just really enjoyed complaining, Alfred thought to himself amusedly. "But it's prom!" he said, a little bewildered this was taking this much convincing. "Who doesn't go to prom?"

"Me," said Arthur firmly.

Alfred dropped his fists to the surface of the lunch table, a slight frown forming on his face. "Why are you so against it?" he asked. "I mean, really, what could be so bad about a little ol' dance?"

This time, Arthur did not answer immediately. He slumped back in the chair, the cheap plastic creaking, his arms folded. He took a deep breath, looked away and stared at the floor. He looked more tired than usual. "I imagine it would be awfully loud," he said low.

"Loud? Is that all?" Alfred knew Arthur was not a fan of crowds or chaos, but lately his sensitivity to noise was getting ridiculous. Everything, suddenly, was too loud. Alfred's music in the car was too loud. Banging around in the cabinet for a dish was too loud. Half the time, Alfred could not even get Arthur into the cafeteria, because it was just too loud. It confused him.

"I just think it would be a pain." Arthur straightened. "Besides, you have a date, don't you? What would be the point of me tagging along?"

"Me and Mei are going as friends," said Alfred. Since he had intervened in her harassment, Alfred and who he now knew was a Vietnamese exchange student had gotten to talking. She was a junior, and after some gentle prodding, had agreed to let Alfred show her what an American high school dance was like. "I rounded up a bunch of folks to come along with us. It'll be fun!"

"Somehow, Alfred, I doubt being in a huge group will make it better."

Alfred uncurled his fingers and looked down, his stomach dropping with it. Maybe this time pestering wasn't going to work. Though he couldn't fathom why someone would be so opposed to going to their senior prom, this wasn't about the dance; not really. Though he had spent a great deal of time trying to convince himself that nothing would change, Alfred wanted Arthur to go so badly because deep down he knew this would probably be the last big thing they could do together before Arthur left for college. While Alfred had every intention of visiting him in college, he knew it just wouldn't be the same. And that kept him up at night.

"I can't force ya," said Alfred, resigning. "But I would really, really like it if you came along. That's all."

Arthur pursed his lips. He ran a hand through his hair as if to tame it, but of course it ended up no less messy than usual. "Does it really mean that much to you?" he asked. Alfred nodded. Arthur sighed, crossed his arms again. "You don't have to look so sad. I'll come, Alfred, if that's really what you want." Alfred beamed, and Arthur quickly added, "I just can't promise I'll stay the whole time."

A wild, consuming joy overtook Alfred like a bolt of lightning. "That's the spirit! I knew you would come around eventually!" He could not stop his legs from bouncing underneath him. "Gosh, it's going to be so much fun, Artie, I promise! If it gets too noisy just tell me, we can go outside or walk around or –"

Arthur waved his hand about. "Alright, alright, no need to get carried away, I've said yes." Then, for the first time that day, Arthur smiled. It made Alfred feel like exploding… it was so hard to get Arthur to smile lately. "I'm sure you'll make it quite the interesting night."

Alfred's wide smile moved to something smaller, contained. "Of course, Artie, have I ever let you down?"

Arthur paused. Then, slowly, shook his head.

…

Alfred spun around in the large, decorated ballroom, the powerful bass pumping through the ground and into his feet. Lights fluttered around him, bright and fast in the dim room. It had only been about an hour, but he was already sweaty, hot, his suit jacket cast to a nearby chair, and his white sleeves rolled above his elbows. He pushed back his hair, feeling the beads of sweat on his hairline. He took Mei by the hand and spun her too, her long red dress dusting the floor in a circle, and she laughed, bright and cheerful. Her black hair spilled down past her chest, slightly messy from dancing.

"Thank you for taking me," said Mei, her voice heavily accented. "It has been very much fun."

Alfred beamed. "Sure has," he said. Prom was even better than he had imagined. Though he was one of the only freshmen in the room, he felt perfectly at home with his upperclassmen teammates, with Mei and her friends. It was the kind of thing that made him thankful he still had three years of high school left.

But one thing would be very different after this year. Alfred looked side to side, scanning the dense mass of students. He came down from his high swiftly when he realized: He had gotten so swept up in everything that he had lost track of Arthur. "Can you excuse me for a quick moment, darlin?" he asked with a smile. Mei nodded cheerfully, and Alfred rushed into the crowd.

Arthur had been quiet all evening. It was hardly surprising, as he was never all that loud, but on a night like this it was a kind of quiet that was distracting. Though he smiled, made small talk, did everything he should do, there was a hollowness behind it that Alfred found curious. He barely said a word to Alfred beyond pleasantries. But, everything had gone smoothly, so far. Arthur had been a gentleman to Mei's parents when they all met at her house to take pictures, unsurprisingly. He had shown up in a tweed suit right out of the forties. Also not surprising.

And in that suit, he looked amazing. Alfred caught himself looking at him more than Mei, more than anything.

That was surprising.

But now, all Alfred wanted to do was find him. He did a lap around the ballroom, scanning, searching, and jogged out of the room when he could not find him. The prom was located a large, high-end hotel, with bright beige walls and gold-trimmed chandeliers. Arthur was not in the lobby. So Alfred kept going until he was out the doors and in the parking lot.

It was a cool, clear night, winter just having given way to spring. Alfred was grateful was the cold wind as he stepped outside. He felt the sweat dry on his skin, felt the fresh air sink deep into his lungs. The music and laughter from the dance permeated to the outside, the far-off, muffled noise becoming softer and softer as Alfred ran along the building. For a moment, he thought Arthur had ended up so miserable he ran home at the first opportunity. The idea made Alfred feel guilty. Like maybe, he should not have talked him into this.

But then, Alfred spotted him. Arthur was just a few steps from the building, leaning against one of the trees in the lawn beside the parking lot. Alfred broke out in a much faster jog. "Arthur!" he called, waving his hand about spastically. Within seconds he was next to him. "Man, I thought I lost you!"

Arthur did not move. "Sorry. I suppose I should have told someone I was stepping out."

"Yeah, maybe." Alfred could not help but wonder why he hadn't, but he shook the thought away. "What are you doin' out here, anyway?"

"Oh, you know. Just needed some air." Arthur unbuttoned one of the buttons on his shirt and loosened his tie, just as several of the boys inside had done. On Arthur, it just looked strange and haggard. "I told you, it was obnoxiously loud."

"I guess," said Alfred. That, he could not argue with – his ears were still ringing. But something about this, how Arthur had retreated this far from everyone else, it felt extreme. Alfred knew he hadn't wanted to go to begin with, but still. "Were you having any fun, at least?"

After a hesitation long enough to keep anything he said from being believable, Arthur said, "Yes, I would say so."

It was times like this that Alfred wished Arthur would stop being so damn polite. He was an enigma, an odd mix between callously blunt and performatively well-mannered, to the point that Alfred practically had to perform an archeological dig to find out what was really on his mind. When they first met it was a quirk; now it was ridiculous.

It made him feel so far away.

Alfred took the plunge. "Is something wrong, Arthur?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I just told you, I needed some air –"

"No," said Alfred, surprising himself with his firmness. "Not just right now. I mean recently. The last couple weeks."

"Oh." Arthur picked an invisible piece of link off his jacket and let it fall, watching as if something was there. "No, Alfred. Nothing is wrong."

"Please." Alfred took a step forward, crossing the boundary of what could be considered strictly friendly. His stomach twisted strangely, like it did when he saw a linebacker twice his size lunging for him. "Don't lie to me."

Arthur tried to grimace but it only lasted a second. "Alfred, you nosy, persistent wanker." The words should have been harsh but came out as more of a laugh, maybe a sigh. "If you must know, I have received some bad news. But it's nothing you should trouble yourself with."

Suddenly, Alfred did not care about prom, did not even remember it was happening. Now there was only Arthur. Anxiety rose in his throat like bile. "What kind of bad news?"

Arthur shook his head. "Like I said, it's nothing you should…"

"What kind of bad news?" asked Alfred again, louder this time.

"Alfred, it's really none of your concern. It's not even a big deal."

"If it's not a big deal, why can't you just tell me?" Alfred's voice was strained. Over the last six months, he and Arthur had spoken about everything. About Alfred's father, who was never home. About Arthur's brothers, who were just as distant. About Alfred's dream of making the NFL even if his mother tutted him for being unrealistic. About Arthur's unfinished novels he had abandoned for the same reason. Now, for whatever reason, Arthur was keeping him at an arm's length. Alfred kept raising his voice. "What could possibly be so dang bad?"

"Alfred, relax, please." Arthur tensed his jaw and fumbled with his buttons again. "Do you really have to yell…" He shook his head, regaining composure, and looked away. "Alright. Fine. If you want to know so badly, I was rejected from my… program, at university."

"Oh no, Arthur!" exclaimed Alfred. "How could an English program possibly reject you? Why, you're practically an expert on all that poetry stuff!"

"Not English. Teaching. I'm looking to do both, remember?" said Arthur. Alfred nodded, though he had forgotten that part. He tended to avoid thinking about Arthur going to college too much. "I can still study English, but I will have to reapply into education, it seems. It was a technicality with the application."

"Well, that's okay, right? You can just reapply!" Alfred felt bad for Arthur, but he was also powerfully relieved that it was not something worse. With small the problem ended up being, how out of it Arthur had been acting almost seemed like an overreaction. Something about it felt odd. But the feeling was overpowered by Alfred's urge to make it better.

"Yes. I can reapply come next semester." Arthur said the words robotically. Finally, he stopped leaning against the tree and stood upright, fixing his tie and redoing the buttons. "Yes, I can simply reapply. I was being silly, Alfred, and I so do apologize."

"That's okay!" said Alfred loudly, a bit manically. These feelings of uneasiness were too strange and he was beyond ready to be done with them. "I'm glad everything is okay."

Silence fell then, and Alfred tuned back into the music lilting from the dance inside. He could barely hear it from so far away, but he could tell it was a slow song. "Hey, do you hear that?" asked Alfred. "Sounds like one of those romantic ones. Got any girl in there you're fixin' to dance with, Art?"

Arthur furrowed his large, unkempt eyebrows. "Not that I can think of."

"Really? Not one?" Alfred asked the question before he realized he did not want the answer, for some reason, so he simply kept talking. "Did you want to dance?" The words fell from his lips before he had the chance to think about them. Alfred blinked, a little stunned, especially when he realized that was exactly what he wanted.

"Dance?" Arthur stared wide-eyed at Alfred, his head slightly cocked. "With you?"

"Well, sure, why not?" Alfred grinned brightly despite the fluttering in his chest. "This is prom, it's a little silly to go and not dance with anyone!"

"Yes, but…" Arthur trailed off and shook his head. "You're an odd one, Alfred."

"Yeah, well, so are you." Alfred laughed as Arthur looked indignant. He held out a hand. "So, what do you say?"

Arthur stared at his hand for a long, still moment. Alfred could feel his heart beating and it confused him. Many things about this conversation had confused him, actually, and now the only thing he was certain of was that he wanted Arthur to take his hand. He wanted it enough to make his chest ache, to make his forehead sweaty again, even in this cold. He swallowed hard, waited.

Then, slowly, Arthur reached out and took his hand. Alfred stopped breathing.

Alfred was trying desperately to think of what to do next when he heard his name being called. Startled, breathless, and confused, he immediately dropped his hand and took a heavy step back.

"Alfred?" said Mei again. "I have been looking for you all over."

Alfred could not decide what he felt worse about – the fact that he abandoned his date, or that he had forgotten he had on. "I'm so sorry, darlin!" he said, whipping around. "You see, my buddy Arthur here got lost. I had to rescue him." He turned back, winked. Arthur's mouth was hanging open.

"Oh. How funny," Mei giggled. "I was just wondering if you would like to come back in and dance."

Though they had come simply as friends, Alfred felt he at least owed that much to her. Feeling bad for disappearing, he strode over to Mei and placed a hand on the small of her back. "Of course!" he said, already walking back to the hotel. He looked behind himself, shot Arthur an apologetic look, and said, "Come join us, okay?"

Arthur stared back; but made no move to follow them.

The ballroom felt even warmer than it had before. Alfred adapted back into the crowd quickly, watching the throws of couples dance with varying degrees of closeness between them. Alfred let his eyes flick between several pairs and had a moment of panic when he realized he was not sure which he should be emulating. Still, he flashed Mei a grin, extended a hand just as he had for Arthur, and placed his other hand on her waist. She laid her head on his shoulder.

Alfred had never danced with anyone before. He wasn't sure where to put his hands, how to move, what to say. Jumping around to a pop song with his teammates had been entirely different from this. This felt too intimate, somehow, with a girl he was friends with on such a casual level. But Alfred just followed the rhythm of the music, trying to stop overthinking it so much. It was just a dance, after all. He enjoyed the scent of her hair and the feeling of her slender hands on his back, similarly to how he liked Arthur's calloused fingers on his palm a few moments ago and the broadness of his shoulders when he hugged him. Alfred wondered why the feelings were so similar.

The song ended before Alfred realized. Mei did not pull away immediately, lingering on Alfred's shoulder as the romantic ballad changed to something fast and electronic. Alfred did not let go of her waist, mostly because he didn't know if he should.

"Thank you, Alfred," said Mei, the words right against his ear. Alfred felt a flush rise up his neck.

Then, before Alfred could realize what was happening, Mei craned her neck upwards and pressed a kiss against his lips. Alfred's eyes flew open. He blinked wildly and dropped his grip on her, grasping for what to make of this, how to feel. It was not unpleasant, just… random, almost uncomfortably unexpected. Alfred had kissed girls before; little pecks in middle school and one half-hearted make out session with a neighbor shorty after moving to the city, so no firsts were being taken from him.

It just didn't feel like the time for it.

It was a quick kiss, lasting only a second or two, and very chaste at that. Alfred was frozen when it ended. He stared back at her, now left with a silence that he for once had no idea how to fill, and finally just looked away.

His gaze fell to Arthur, who had apparently come back inside. He was standing by the doorway, mouth open just as it had when Alfred left him outside, but now with wider eyes and stiffer shoulders. Alfred's face flushed for an entirely different reason. He felt as if he had been caught naked, vulnerable and exposed, oddly guilty. The loud music turned to senseless noise.

And then, Arthur turned and walked out the door he just entered.

Alfred could do nothing but watch him leave.

.

As the beginning of the season drew closer, Alfred felt determined to utilize the wiggle room left in his schedule. Though he tried not to think about it too much, deep down he knew once the season started, once he had real games, not practice ones, on top of practice and press conferences and interviews and god knew what else, getting himself to New York every week would be even harder. But he would never let it stop him.

But the way things were currently going, Alfred was able to stay in New York for upwards of a week after the disastrous hospital black-out. He spent the unfamiliar free time working out, visiting Matthew, and of course, visiting Arthur. Always Arthur.

Unfortunately, with visiting hours strictly enforced, Alfred was still left with unoccupied time. When left to his own devices, Alfred had no real choice than to sit with his thoughts.

During this time, when Alfred was alone in his massive, naturally lit, suffocatingly empty New York home, he could not help but wonder what he was getting himself into. It was building. He could feel it building, from the moment he saw Arthur again after a decade had passed without him, something old and new at the same time. Feelings Alfred had noticed at sixteen, when he was still a small-town boy cut loose in the city, a young kid in awe with an upperclassman. He could brush it off as admiration back then, but now that he was famous, wealthy, successful… he still got the same tightness in his chest when he saw Arthur. And finally he was old enough to understand what it meant, even if he still felt like that dumb little southern boy most of the time.

But fate was a cruel mistress, and by the time Alfred understood what he wanted from Arthur, Arthur was far too sick to be able to give it to him.

Alfred could not deny it. He was used to getting what he wanted. It went with what he did. And even before that, he had grown accustomed to things going his way as soon as he flashed a smile or winked, as soon as people heard his accent. But now Alfred was faced with something out of his reach for what could be the first time in his life, and he could do nothing but change his objective. He could not score a touchdown, but he could gain a few yards.

So, Alfred went to the hospital for the sole purpose of being Arthur's best friend. Nothing more and nothing less.

The outside of the building was storm-tossed and messy, with dirt pulled up from the ground and sprayed onto the sidewalk, unearthed plants lying sadly on the ground, tree branches broken and hanging by threads. But the late-summer sun was back out, warming the leather on Alfred's jacket. He swung open the heavy double doors and into the overly air-conditioned lobby, pulling his collar closer to his neck as he speed-walked to the psychiatric unit.

When Alfred entered the calm, empty lounge, the only person he saw was Matthew. "Hey, little bro!" Alfred stared at his brother for a long moment, noticing his wrinkled clothes and bad posture. "Wow, you look like hell."

"Thanks," said Matthew flatly. "I'm okay, just a little tired. I had to get in early today. It's been… a weird morning." Matthew quickly shook his head. "Arthur is in his room. We just finished a session."

"Cool. How is he doing?"

Matthew brushed a blond curl from behind his ear and tentatively looked up. His eyes were watery; red and unfocused. Probably exhaustion. "A little worse for wear, I'm afraid."

Alfred attempted a laugh, but it came out as more of a sigh. He knew. He had seen Arthur a couple times since the night of family therapy, that stormy, chaotic night during which Arthur almost seemed like his old self. It had been the little things that tipped him off, nothing major – a few jumbled sentences, less eye contact, a few odd moments of total stillness. It was nothing Alfred wasn't used to at this point. But, after that beautiful night of clarity, a small part of him had run off and hoped too much.

"Good days, bad days, Mattie. Aren't you the one who's always telling these people that?" Alfred clapped Matthew easily on the back. "So, can I go to him?"

"Good days, bad days. That's right." For a moment, Matthew looked far off. Then he blinked a few times and smiled at Alfred. "Go ahead, he should be waiting."

Alfred strode to Arthur's room and knocked three times on the door. "You in there, Artie?" Silence. Alfred knocked another three times. "Arthur?"

"Just… just… come on, in. Quit that racket."

Alfred smiled. Though it was a bit scrambled, at least Arthur was still complaining. He opened the door and walked inside. Arthur was sitting on the edge of his bed, hands folded in front of him, staring intently at the wall. Beyond a few blinks, he did not react when Alfred sat beside him.

"How are you, buddy?"

"Oh, you know." Arthur shrugged. "Fine. The same."

Alfred wondered what "the same" meant because it always felt like things were changing. He rested a hand on his bouncing leg and kept speaking. "What did you talk about with Matthew today?" It was not a question he was sure he should be asking, but he wanted to know.

"The usual rubbish. How I'm feeling," Arthur spat the word, "and he mentioned mindfulness or some lot. Talked about being present." He paused, sucked in his cheeks and let them go. "Matthew has decided to switch my medication. The new one, it's… Brex…Brexi…I don't know." Arthur repeated himself, slowly, "I don't know."

"Oh, okay." Alfred made a mental note to ask Matthew about that later. "Are you feeling okay? Like, is it helping?"

"Haven't started yet. Not... entirely," said Arthur. Alfred nodded - cross-tapering. Of course. The books had talked about that. "But I'm sure there will be an adjustment period."

"Sure."

Alfred said the words evenly even as his stomach turned, flipped, sunk. Switching medication must have meant the other one wasn't working, or that something was different. That something was wrong. And Alfred knew he couldn't fix it. He could read as many books as he wanted, but at the end of the day a lot of this stuff was beyond his control or even comprehension. That drove him insane.

"Where are your roommates?" Alfred asked finally. Come to think of it, the last couple of times he visited the other two men were nowhere to be found.

"You wouldn't believe it, really," said Arthur. "I came back here last night, after dinner. And those two… they were fighting. Badly."

Alfred narrowed his eyes. "You mean, like, arguing, or…"

"No, fighting." Arthur sounded monotone. "The big one, Ivan. He had Gilbert against the floor… choking him. It was quite the sight."

Alfred whistled. Matthew's injury, now fighting… he was beginning to think this place was understaffed or something. "No shit." A troublesome thought entered his mind. "Did they do anything to you?"

Thankfully, Arthur shook his head. "No, no. This was very much between them. Never liked each other, those two."

"Huh."

Silence fell, and Alfred allowed it to happen. Quiet was something he was slowly getting used to. Arthur continued to stare at the wall, not moving, hardly even blinking. And so Alfred watched him. He studied how his hair was past his ears now, having gotten long in the past couple of months. Stared at the way his t-shirt stretched across his back, the way his shoulders rose and fell with his breathing. Alfred was overcome with the urge to reach out and touch him, or do anything to close the space between them.

Then, music. For a moment, Alfred thought he was imagining it. But the more he strained his ears, to more he could hear the soft, melodic song playing somewhere from the outside. It must have been coming from one of the local businesses, maybe even somewhere else in the hospital. It was slow and dreamlike, maybe piano.

Alfred noticed Arthur looking around. "I wonder where the music is coming from," he said quickly.

"Hmm," hummed Arthur. He unclasped his hands and drummed his fingers together. After a long moment, he turned to Alfred and said, "Alfred… We went to prom." It was almost a question.

"Yeah!" Alfred beamed as he thought about it. The memory clear as day. He could still picture Arthur's ridiculous tweed suit, his perfectly tied tie, the cool, clear night. He was not sure why Arthur would bring this up now, but what mattered was that he remembered at all. "Yeah, Arthur, we went to prom." He chuckled. "I don't think you liked it all that much."

Arthur almost smiled. Almost. "No, probably not," he said. "Forgive me, remembering is… hard, sometimes."

"No, that's okay." Finally, Alfred reached over and gave Arthur's arm a small squeeze. "Take your time."

"And you went with a girl." Arthur slowly pulled his arm away. "Right?"

"Yeah. Her name was Mei." Alfred remembered her, if only faintly. They had barely spoken after that dance. It turned out she had feelings for her, which Alfred had simply not returned. After that, they had amicably drifted apart.

"She was pretty." Arthur turned to look out the window again. The song continued, only audible in these lulls in conversation.

Alfred gave a short nod. "Yeah, she was. All the guys were jealous when they found out she was my date."

In that moment, high school felt so long ago and so recent at the same time. Alfred could remember almost every detail of that dance, but when he thought about what he used to care about, what he used to spend his time on, it might as well have been another lifetime. He wished he had paid more attention to the things that mattered. On that night, there was one thing he would have changed. Briefly, he wondered if bringing this up was a good idea. But his mouth moved before his mind caught up and Alfred was powerless. "I asked you to dance with me, Arthur. Do you remember that?"

"I… I think so."

"I asked you to dance with me, but then Mei asked me, and I felt like I had to. It was only polite, I mean, she was my date." Alfred could picture almost every moment, down to Arthur's expression and how his hand felt in his. "But Arthur? I didn't want to dance with her. Not really. Yeah, she was pretty and all that, but…" Alfred just shrugged. "I would have rather danced with you."

Arthur closed his eyes. "That was all so long ago."

It was so long ago but Alfred wanted the same things. So he stood, extended a hand just as he did ten years ago, and felt the same butterflies. "I never did get that dance."

"Alfred," said Arthur, staring up at him from where he sat on the bed. The far-off song changed pitch. "This is silly."

"That's never stopped me before."

Arthur moved slower these days. It took him longer to form expressions, to make decisions, to get around. Alfred knew that, but still it felt like an eternity before the stillness was broken. Finally, Arthur sighed, took his hand, and stood. And now there was no one to interrupt them. Even here, in this strange, sad place, it felt like their own corner of the universe.

Whatever song was playing outside was too slow and quiet to dance it, in any kind of normal circumstances. But of course these were not normal circumstances. Alfred took Arthur by the waist, raised their joined hands and stepped to the middle of the room. Arthur looked at him, not quite smiling, but not grimacing, either. Alfred tried to hum along to the music though he didn't know the melody.

"You're an odd one," said Arthur. The words felt familiar.

"I've gotten that a couple times." Arthur rested his hands on his shoulders and Alfred's heart beat madly. For a moment he worried this was too far, too much. He ignored the thought and swayed gently. "Do you ever wish we could go back, Arthur?"

"Go back?" Arthur's eyes flashed strangely at that. "To high school?"

"Yeah, you know, before…" Hospitals. Medications. Hallucinations. Nothing ever being certain. There was about a million ways Alfred could have finished that sentence, but this was not Arthur's fault, and he didn't want to make him feel that way. So he just said, "When things were a little less complicated."

Arthur was still expressionless, holding Alfred by the shoulders and swaying slightly off beat. "I wish for it every single day."

That made Alfred feel a bit sick. Arthur never struck him as a person who would peak in high school. He was supposed to go to college, to have a career and a family. Now all of that was on hold, possibly indefinitely. He pulled Arthur a bit closer. "You'll get out of here eventually," he said. "And once you do, you're going to do so many cool things."

Arthur looked towards the floor. "Oh, Alfred, let's not get carried away…"

"No. Listen." The music had stopped by now, and Alfred went still. He pulled Arthur tighter, stared him in the eyes, and spoke through a wavering voice. "You're going to get out of here, and then you can do anything you want." He took a deep breath, finally managed a grin. "And I'll be with you every step of the way."

"So sentimental." Arthur tilted his head. "Sometimes I wonder why you bother."

Alfred's heart was in his throat. He could already feel his resolve slipping, though he had just promised himself this morning that he would not let it happen. He had promised it to himself time and time again, almost every single week, actually, that he wouldn't complicate Arthur's life any further. He had even promised it to Arthur's face. But now that he was here, holding him, making all these promises… suddenly none of it mattered. He couldn't stop himself anymore.

"You know I'm in love with you, right?"

The earth stood still. And finally it was out there, the words that had gone unspoken for so long. For a long moment, Arthur said nothing. Alfred was dizzy, furious with himself. One time in his life he had to accept something wouldn't work out how he wanted and he couldn't even manage that.

"I'm sorry," said Alfred hurriedly. "You don't have to say anything, I…"

"Of course I knew that. I'm not a moron." Arthur sounded muffled, his face hidden. "But, you just might be."

Alfred blinked, a little stunned. "I beg your pardon?"

"I've always loved you." Arthur said it so quietly for a moment Alfred thought he had heard him incorrectly. Then Arthur looked up, and there were tears running down his face, though his expression was the same. "I thought you knew." His chest was rising and falling rapidly, but still he sounded monotone, far away. "I thought you knew."

Alfred pulled Arthur against his chest, grasping the back of his head, his back, all of him. He hated that he made him cry. He hated that this had to happen here, had to happen like this, had to hurt. But above anything Alfred loved Arthur, so much that it had built up and quickened and finally overflowed into this awful, wonderful, stomach-turning, heart-stopping moment.

"We never have to talk about this again if you don't want to," said Alfred, still for some reason intent on keeping impossible promises.

"Nonsense." Arthur laughed strangely, almost a hiccup. "You've always been awful at keeping quiet."

And that always seemed to get him in trouble, didn't it? Alfred shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

Arthur pulled away then. He took a small step back and wiped his eyes, dried his cheeks, closer to smiling than he was before. "And I would never have you any other way."

For once, Alfred could think of nothing to say. He just stared at Arthur, at his too-green eyes, at his too-long hair, as his too-small smile. He could have stared forever. But then Arthur was moving, and his hand was on his cheek, and he was closer, closer, and then finally Arthur kissed him and everything was okay. Everything was okay, thought Alfred as he surrendered. Everything had always been okay, thought Alfred as he pulled Arthur close enough to keep him safe. And everything was going to be okay, thought Alfred as he pulled away, his skin buzzing and his stomach fluttering and god he was smiling so much it hurt. But it didn't matter. Nothing had ever mattered more than this.

"I love you, Artie." God, it felt so good to be able to say it so freely. "I've loved you for a long time."

"I know. I think both of us knew," said Arthur. "I just… think we need to careful."

"I know," said Alfred, because he would be crazy to ignore it. Though he could feel almost nothing over this bright, blinding joy, their situation was the still same as it was a moment ago. "But, it'll be okay. I promise."

"You really think so?"

"Sure I do," said Alfred, brushing Arthur's cheek with his thumb and smiling. "Do I ever break promises?"

To be continued...