"Six weeks without a call? My heart bleeds, mon lapin."

I rolled my eyes as I held the mobile up to my ear and sat down on the couch.

"It's been less than ten seconds. Don't let me regret placing this call, Francis."

There was a short chuckle on the other end, and I took that moment to gaze out the window. It was a quiet Sunday morning, though strange to think that the sun was already setting in France.

"Ah we can't have that, now can we?" Francis said with a smile in his voice. Scratch that, more of a smirk. Alfred spoke with a smile in his voice, a grin in his words, and a beam in his intonation.

"If you're going to be smart with me I won't hesitate in hanging up," I said blandly and I think Francis could tell. There was no usual bite in my remark, my crisp cynicism not up to par with something clouding my thoughts.

"Something is bothering you, Arthur?"

I hesitated. Francis proved that being a prick did not make you a moron. He was quick and cunning and knew something was on my mind before I'd even sorted it out myself.

"Francis, let me ask you something," I started, settling back into the love seat, getting ready for a conversation I wasn't entirely sure I was ready to have. "Do you think a man giving you flowers could ever be more than a friendly gesture?"


"Do settle down, would you?" Alfred stopped spinning around in his chair. A wisp of his hair had fallen out of place and was hanging in front of his eyes. It was, well, it was rather adorable. "You're acting a bit childish, don't you think?"

Alfred fixed me with his usual smile, simultaneously charming and dastardly obnoxious.

"I like to move when I'm working. It gets the blood pumpin', the ideas flowin', you know?"

I raised an eyebrow at my superior.

"Alfred, you read manuscripts, you don't write them."

"Who said the ideas involved work?" Alfred grinned deviously as he finally seemed to still. I'd have asked what exactly he might be plotting but when he picked up a new manuscript and a pen, I chose not to pursue it.

"As long as you're quiet," I replied, returning to my own manuscript. "Maybe if you're good I'll even take you to the park later."

Alfred chuckled, but I didn't look away from the words I'd been sucked back into.

"I don't know if I should be flattered or insulted that you're treating your boss like a kid."

"Maybe my boss needs to abandon his spinny chair and actually do some work."

We looked up at each other and shared a smile. Alfred even showed his teeth which were remarkably white. I briefly wondered if he used those teeth whitening strips that were constantly being advertised here.

"I think you're right."

I blinked and shook my head, returning to my real-life toothpaste model. He was, unsurprisingly, grinning.

"Switch seats with me."

"Excuse me?" I asked perplexed, but Alfred was already up and out and was leaning on the back of my chair.

"This seat taken?" he said with haughty cock of his head.

"In fact it is," I replied, leveling him a glare. I noticed as he put a hand on either side of my shoulders but chose not to mention it. "And let me tell you, you've completely ruined your chances of visiting the park today."

Alfred grinned and I would have smirked back had I not been nearly startled out of my seat at that exact moment. My smile faltered along with my posture as everything started to shake. I gasped, pulling my legs up onto the chair, not knowing what else to do.

"Holy shit! Earthquake!" Alfred cried and I looked at him helplessly.

My heart was beating quickly and my thoughts were muddled. How odd that my brain produced a reaction so akin to a nervous schoolgirl about to ask out the boy she liked when I may have been drawing my last breath.

"What do we do? What if the building collapses?" I looked up at Alfred, likely looking more frightened than I would have liked. "I didn't move here just to die!"

I tried to focus on Alfred's eyes. If nothing else, they were calming and I'd be damned if I was going to die the frantic mess of panicked thoughts that I currently was. I trained my own eyes on his, but as I did, the world around me slowly stopped shaking and I noticed that Alfred's eyes glowed with something much different than fear. They were... almost mirthful?

I looked away, daring to see the damage the quake had done to the rest of the room, but everything seemed to be in place. Every book on Alfred's bookshelf was arranged just as it was before, every manuscript lay neatly on our shared desk. Alfred's half full coffee cup hadn't toppled over, nor had the Styrofoam cup of tea that he'd brought me this morning. But how could that be?

I glanced back at Alfred, and the moment our eyes met he... started laughing?

"'Oh Alfred, I don't want to die!'" he mocked me as he doubled over, placing his hands on his knees, laughing himself silly. "Man, I got you good!"

"Excuse me?" I took a tentative step from the chair, still slightly worried the ground might open up and start shaking again, but as it didn't, I took another step and found myself in front of my boss. He leant back up again, grinning at me as he wiped an invisible tear from his eye.

"That was great. I really need to try that on my brother when he visits," he said with a smirk, and before I'd fully thought it through, I was tugging on Alfred's tie, angrily pulling him forward.

"Woah there," Alfred breathed out as I fixed him with my most menacing look. His cheeks turned a bubbly pink but I didn't release him. "Calm down, Arthur, it was just a joke." He pointed behind me. "I was just shaking your chair. It's okay, you're okay."

I loosened my hold on his tie but didn't let go.

"Are you insane?"

I barely noticed my breathing had been somewhat erratic until Alfred put a hand on my shoulder and stilled me. I could hear my unusually fast heartbeat, my non-rhythmic breaths. I could hear Alfred's soft voice trying to calm me.

"It's alright. Take a deep breath."

I did so and my heartbeat started to fall in line with my inhales and exhales.

"Look at me."

I followed that order as well and when I looked up I found a genuinely contrite looking Alfred.

"Arthur, I am so sorry. I didn't think I would spook you that bad." He squeezed a hand that I'd forgotten was on my shoulder. I noticed that this time there was something like fear visible in Alfred's eyes. But what did he have to be scared about?

"I don't mean to interrupt you two lovebirds, but this just arrived for you, Al, and it looks pretty important," Gilbert smirked from the hallway, and his taunts were like oil on the cogged gears of my mind. Everything started turning all at once and I immediately let go of Alfred's tie.

"Mr. Jones, I'm terribly sorry, that was out of line." I awkwardly rubbed my hands on my trousers as Alfred lent back up to his full height, an embarrassed smile of his own on his face. "Please forgive me."

"Arthur," he paused for a minute fiddling with his tie, but only making it look worse. "You haven't called me that since you first started here."

"What a soap opera this is turning out to be," Gilbert reasserted his presence as he stepped into the room and pressed a package into Alfred's arms. He lifted a hand and crossed his pointer over his middle finger. "Boy do I hope Al eventually tells you he's carrying your baby."

"Gilbert!" Alfred's face flushed with color as he smacked the secretary with the jiffy bag in his hands. "Get out."

The white haired man slipped out with a trail of chuckles as Alfred turned back to me.

"Hey, uh..." Alfred lifted a hand behind his head and maybe if my mind wasn't flustered and still coming off an adrenaline high, I would have thought it funny that someone who worked so high up at a publishing company was at a loss for words. As it was, I hung my head and shuffled my way back over to my side of the desk.

"We should get back to work. Those manuscripts aren't going to read themselves," I rushed, not waiting for Alfred's response as I buried my nose back into the manuscript I'd been handling before this entire fiasco began. That was something I'd always loved about literature, the ability to be sucked into another world at a moment's notice. Books always held a beautiful escape from reality because if I was in Wonderland or Westeros I wasn't thinking of how terrible I felt for snapping at Alfred like that or how Gilbert's casual teasing made me feel much more uncomfortable than I let on.

"Right," Alfred agreed a moment later, as I was already half a page into my manuscript, but as I looked up, I found him eagerly typing away at his laptop rather than opening the package Gilbert had so graciously delivered.

"Shouldn't you attend to that first," I stumbled, curiously, pointing to the package. "It looks time sensitive."

"Oh it is," Alfred said, offering me a small smile that was nowhere near on par with his usual grins. "But I gotta do something first." He winked at me and I nearly looked away. "Some stuff is more important than books, you know?"

I didn't really know, but as an underling I just nodded at my boss and re-immersed myself into a story of a high-clearance FBI agent who falls in love with a man who can read minds. How dreadful the world would be if we could all read minds, I thought to myself, as the time ticked away in the small office and I waited for when I could return to the safe haven of my apartment. When at last the clock struck five, I wished Alfred a good evening, the tension still palpable and awkward between us, and started back on the train. When I arrived at home, only to come across a pot of beautiful white daisies and small note of apology sat in front of my door, I again thought of how dreadful the world would be if we could all read minds; it would ruin the element of surprise.


"Good morning, Arthur," Alfred greeted, handing me the usual cup of Starbucks Earl Grey. It had been a week since our little stumble, but the air had cleared between us. I'd thanked Alfred for the flowers and the apology and told him it wasn't necessary but he'd just waved me off and repeated that some things were more important than books.

"You really needn't bring me tea every morning," I replied, accepting it and reaching for a paper bill in my pocket.

"And you really needn't fish out your wallet every time I do, considering it's always my treat." He set his coffee cup down on his desk and waved away the bill I tried to stuff into his palm. "Put that away, I'm not a stripper," he replied with a grin and a bark of a laugh.

I returned his smile as I replaced the bill into my pocket and relaxed back into my seat. It was odd to think that Alfred's laugh made me so happy, but after going two or three days with only apologetic smiles and tense, fake chuckles, there was no other way to describe the return of my superior's usual, bright personality.

"Well, you've got the legs for it," I replied with a small smile and Alfred bubbled with laughter.

"You think so?" He walked around the desk and struck a pose for me. "Maybe I've missed my calling!"

"The only thing you've missed is your mind," I retorted with a roll of my eyes as Alfred chuckled and returned to his side of the desk.

I removed the plastic lid from the tea Alfred had brought me, wisps of steam rolling off it as I did so. The liquid was simultaneously deliciously warm and remarkably cool and calming as I brought it to my lips. Starbucks by no means made the best tea, but every cup Alfred brought me tasted curiously good. I had my suspicions that he added something to make it just so – a drop of honey or a dab of cream – but I dared not ask.

"So, Arthur," I glanced up to find Alfred pouring his third or fourth sugar packet into his cup and would have sighed, had Alfred not been staring at me so intensely.

"Yes?" I fidgeted, suddenly conscious of my unruly hair and poor posture. I could do nothing about the state of affairs atop my head, but I did sit up straighter.

Alfred was staring at me, and though it was with a soft smile on his face, I still found it incredibly intimidating to be stared down by your boss.

"Were you still interested in seeing Alcatraz?"

Oh, was that all? My shoulders slumped slightly, and I relaxed back into my chair.

"Yes, but I haven't had a chance quite yet."

"Well then, isn't today your lucky day," he grinned, sliding two pieces of paper out of his briefcase and across the desk toward me. I blinked at the scraps before realizing they were tickets to visit the island.

"A week from this Saturday. I can pick you up again if you'd like."

"That sounds wonderful." And I realized as those words slipped from my lips that I wasn't sure whether I was talking about finally visiting Alcatraz or spending another day out on the town with Alfred.


"Hey there," Alfred greeted with his trademark smile as I opened the door for him. He was dressed down: jeans, a Stanford t-shirt, and his antique jacket again. "We match," he grinned as he pointed to my University of Manchester hoodie.

"What a coincidence," I replied, stuffing my keys and wallet into my pocket and ushering Alfred out. He was discretely surveying my living room again just as he had last time and it made me nervous. Did he find it too bland? Was I not stylish enough for a young San Franciscan such as Alfred? As I locked the door and Alfred padded down the stairs, I wondered why those thoughts had even come up in the first place. It wasn't my job to please Alfred. It certainly wasn't as if I were trying to impress him.

"Perhaps I should pick up a Cal shirt and we could truly match," I smirked, offering Alfred a coy little smile. I had picked up on a few things in the brief month I'd been in the Bay Area, and one of those things was the very palpable tension between the two major universities here.

Alfred let out an almost dark chuckle as he put the key in the ignition and started the car.

"Don't even get me started on the Golden Bears," he replied, the last half of his sentence squawked in a ridiculous attempt at the voice of a scornful elderly women. I had to smile.

"Tough words from someone whose school mascot was a tree."

"Aye," Alfred chirped in a warning voice, turning to smile at me as we stopped for a red light. "I won't have anyone insulting our sacred yet unofficial, leafy mascot."

"Do forgive me, Mr. Jones," I sighed, putting my hands up in mock surrender.

"I'll let you off with a warning this time, Mr. Kirkland," he replied, though he didn't take his eyes off the road to look at me. I almost felt dismayed at that for some reason. "But next time I promise you won't be so lucky."

We kept on driving, silent except for the David Bowie song playing on the radio. As I rested my cheek against the cool glass of the passenger window, Alfred spoke up again, telling me about some of the differences between the two universities. I'd had no idea, for example, that Stanford was a majority graduate school whilst Berkeley was mostly comprised of undergraduates. Nor was I aware that they were on different sides of the bay, but I suppose the geography of the local universities had never truly been on the top of my 'to-know' list.

"But you wanna know one of the things Stanford and Cal students have in common?" Alfred asked, as he pulled into a garage just a block or so from the pier. I glanced at him as he parked the car and turned to grin at me.

"We all got into Berkeley."

He winked and I couldn't help but think how charming he was even when telling terribly offensive jokes, or defending a tree that did nothing more than run around at American football matches. I smiled at him, and he returned it tenfold, always outdoing me, and neither of us seemed to make any motion to leave the car, but it was a comfortable and close silence. It gave me a moment to notice just how truly handsome Alfred was. His hair looked incredibly soft and his eyes so startlingly blue. He was the poster boy for shampoo, for eyeglasses, for anything that could possibly be marketed. Honestly, with that smile, and those eyes, Alfred could sell me a laxative and I wouldn't question it. Yet it did make me wonder, with so many features better suited to Hollywood than the publishing industry, how on earth was it that Alfred wasn't married? Not that I'd ever asked, of course, but Alfred never wore a ring and I doubted that he was the sort to only wear one when it suited him. Yet even with marriage aside, could Alfred be single? I'd never inquired into that either, for it wasn't my business, but at this moment it struck me just how incredibly odd the circumstances were. With looks like that, with lips that looked so supple and soft and skin that was smoother than a marble statue, Alfred must have a girlfriend. There was no evidence pointing to the contrary. He must have had every young lady at Stanford, undergrads and graduate students alike, lined up for dates. There's no way he-

"Hey, Arthur?"

Alfred's query broke me from my thoughts, and I silently thanked him, not sure where that train of thought was headed. I focused my eyes and realized he was staring at me, his cheeks having taken on a slight red tinge, like a ripening fruit. Suddenly the confines of the car felt much too close, and I wanted to escape.

"Yes?"

"Arthur, I," Alfred was staring at me with such concentration, I genuinely thought he might burn a hole right through me. I nodded, encouraging him to continue, but the moment I did, he straightened up and nearly hit his head on the roof of the car. "I, uh, I brought the sunscreen from last time to make sure you don't burn again!" And with that he fumbled for a backpack he kept in the backseat and pulled out the tube of sunscreen he'd purchased at a chemist's last time we'd visited the pier. He pressed it into my hands before immediately tumbling out of the car.

How queer of Alfred to act so clumsy. His usual juvenile tendencies were rather endearing but this all-thumbs behavior was just odd. Yet, as usual, I chose not to comment on it.

"Thank you," I replied as I stepped out of the car, finding Alfred raking a hand through his hair. When he turned to look at me the blush had quelled and if the brilliant grin he sent me said anything, he seemed to be back to normal. I suppose the moment of fresh air had cleared his mind.

"Sure," he smiled, locking the car. "We can't have the sun giving you any extra freckles, now can we?"

To be honest, I was surprised Alfred had remembered such a minor detail that I'd mentioned in passing. I rolled my eyes. That he remembered, but in the office when I asked what he'd done with a certain manuscript, then Alfred was no help at all.

"No, I suppose not."

Things rapidly returned to normal following that minor escapade. Alfred was all smiles and tales of the last time he visited the island as a child as we showed our tickets and boarded the boat.

"Come this way," Alfred urged, as he bypassed other tourists staring out the windows on the lower deck. He led us through a door and outside, just as I could hear the door closing and a recording was played instructing passengers what to do in case of an emergency. The wind was fierce out on the bay, and as I stood on the deck with Alfred, it ruffled my hoodie and did quite the number on my hair as well. But it was entirely worth it because the view was amazing, especially once we started moving.

"The Golden Gate's just over there," Alfred said, to my left, and I followed where his finger pointed to find the elegant red giant towering above the water. "And the Bay Bridge is that way," he said, directing me to look in the opposite direction. "But that's a bit less exciting."

I didn't have the heart to tell Alfred to hush and just enjoy the moment so I let him point out this and that, and rattle out a fact or two on each thing, but all the time my mind was stuck on the beauty of the water and the light rocking of the waves beneath us. There really was no comparable feeling to being out on the water and I couldn't remember the last time I'd been on the open sea, or the open bay as it was.

"We're here!" Alfred said all at once, and I had hardly noticed that the other tourists had left the deck, headed back inside to queue up by the door. Alfred nodded me forward. "Go ahead." I led the way and after a few minutes of people filing through the door we were back on land again. It wasn't hard to find the prison, as it was the only building sat atop the island, with windows rusted and paint cracked and in places worn away. I must have looked like a right tourist just standing there staring, but it was quite the sight to take in. For every word an author could use in their best attempt to describe a time period long since passed, it never did quite have the same effect as standing right next to the real thing. For a brief moment it was 1947 and I was the newest inmate to be greeted by the gulls and the offending monstrosity that lay in front of me. For a moment I felt like I was in another time period.

"Come on, let's go inside," Alfred said from somewhere behind me, and the illusion vanished as quickly as it had come. Was there a word to capture a feeling of nostalgia for an era in which you didn't belong or for a place where you never lived? I thought about asking Alfred but I didn't as he pressed a hand to my back, gently pushing me forward. Some feelings just can't be captured and could never adequately be expressed in words.

We made our way into the prison and up a set of stairs where we waited in another short queue for our audio tour headsets. When it came our turn, I almost expected Alfred to pull something funny, like request a recording for me in German or French, neither of which I spoke, but he surprisingly asked for two English headsets, handing one to me which I quickly hung around my neck.

The rest of the tour truly flew by as I immersed myself in the voices of the narrators and the stories they told. It was fascinating to hear the perspective of a guard, immediately followed by the point of view of a prisoner. The same building was a place of business, though granted an incredibly dangerous business, for one, but absolute hell for another. I was so caught up in the audio tour that I nearly forgot Alfred was there, only pausing my recording and removing my headset twice when he tapped me on the back. The first time he wanted me take a picture of him making a ridiculous face in the solitary confinement chamber, to which I obliged, though not without a soft sigh. The second time, though, was right after we walked through the prison library.

"Could you imagine?" he started before I'd fully pulled off the headset. "Having books become a privilege rather than a right? That's insane."

The tour had mentioned that only prisoners that behaved and obeyed the rules were permitted to check out books from the library but I suppose I hadn't given the fact a second thought as Alfred so obviously had.

"I can't say I'm surprised. This was the most high security prison in the nation," I replied, following Alfred's lead as he settled on a bench for a quick rest. "But I can't imagine it, no." I shook my head. "If you take away my literature, you might as well take away my food and water as well."

Alfred exhaled a laugh, but it was softer than usual, perhaps because he was being courteous to the people around us. "Good thing you would've never ended up here, then."

"Oh? You don't think stealing that packet of Maltesers back when I was a tot would have earned me a stay here?"

Alfred grinned at me and I returned a smirk.

"I gotta admit, I have no idea what Maltesers are," he said with that same quiet chuckle, and my smirk softened into a smile.

All through the rest of the tour I listened closely to what was said by the police officers and prisoners alike, but in the back of my mind I kept thinking that the next time my brothers sent me a package from home, I'd have to ask for an extra pack of Maltesers.