"Made your curfew again, Alfred. Nice to know some things penetrate that thick skull of yours." Alfred's blood boiled; he was fed up with being insulted, sick of being treated like he was worthless. He walked down the hallway to the kitchen, ignoring his father as he found some frozen macaroni and cheese. He groaned as he heard steady footsteps behind him. "I made some chicken. It's in the refrigerator."

"Your food tastes like shit," Alfred spat at him, preparing his frozen meal. "Can you leave me alone?"

"Is your homework—"

"Shut up!" Arthur stomped his foot.

"Do not use that tone with me, Alfred!"

"I'm not in the mood for this; just go away!" Arthur seized Alfred's arm, forcing him to make eye contact. "I said—"

"I'm not in the mood to fight with you either, Alfred." His voice was no longer sharp and patronizing, but a bit regretful. Releasing his arm, Arthur walked away, granting Alfred's wish. Utterly confused, he shoved his food into the oven, the memory of his father's hand still on his arm. He took a few steps back as he closed the oven door, unsure of what to think.

The next two weeks were spent in the library with Ivan after school. Of course, his biting remarks annoyed Alfred, but he managed to complete his schoolwork accurately. Eventually, he decided to ask the taller boy to help him with his math homework, a task Ivan accepted with one of his easy smiles. It still embarrassed him, to expose this kid he's known for two weeks to his failure, but his chemistry grade had risen significantly. Though Arthur took no notice, he would pass the class if he continued his library sessions.

Despite his patronizing ways, Alfred found himself relating to Ivan. Both boys had the same bad habit of saying whatever was on their mind, no matter how rude. Ivan enjoyed the same video games he did, and his parents couldn't cook well, either. Their conversations began to diverge from concepts as they met more and more frequently; Alfred never saw Ivan during school hours, but in the peace of the library, he was there, and they were friends.

"So, why are you always in the library?" he asked one day. "I mean, I know I'm giving you a reason, but you gave me a business card with library hours after we first met, and I've just been confused ever since." If Alfred's eyes did not deceive him, the corner of Ivan's mouth dropped a little. He blinked and the sunny smile returned, though the boy it belonged to seemed a little lost.

"I just am," he brushed it off. "What was your answer for problem fifty?"

"Seriously, why? Do you do homework or something? Read?"

"Your answer's supposed to be positive; oh, you made a division error here—"

"If it's something creepy, like you're totally in love with one of the librarians or something, I swear I won't judge you—"

"That's disgusting, Alfred." He laughed a little, but it was only for a couple of seconds. His eyes bore into Alfred's blue ones as he continued. "It's kind of weird. I don't know how most people would respond to it, but . . . I have problems making friends. I don't know what it is about me, but people who approach me end up leaving." Ivan did creep him out sometimes, yet Alfred still met him every day after school or soccer practice. "So I try tutoring people, and if they like me, I'll try to be friends. But . . . they still end up leaving me, after all I've done to help them." Alfred was not shocked. He wondered if he should feel ashamed because he wasn't, because he could see why this massive, obliviously cruel Russian kid had no friends. What should he say to him? Alfred had friends, most of them from soccer, most of them unable to go two sentences without making a perverted joke. He's never had a friend he wasn't ashamed to admit his insecurities to, but that was different than having no friends at all.

"I'm still around, aren't I? I've been around, and I'll be around." He leaned back in his chair, trying to distract himself from Ivan's gaze. It was a little awkward, though Alfred could not pinpoint why. He was scared that he sounded like he befriended Ivan out of pity, but that was far from the truth. He—both of them—befriended each other because he was desperate. Desperate for different reasons, but still in need.

Ivan stared at the back wall, no longer focused on Alfred. "For how long? How am I supposed to know you won't run away whenever you see me, desperate to avoid eye contact? It's happened to everyone I try to talk to. It'll happen to you." This added fire to Alfred's thoughts. Ivan was making assumptions about him, just like Arthur, just like everybody else. He was trying to prove them wrong. It was hard when nobody listened. "I speak of experience, Alfred—"

"I'm pretty sure I'm experienced with myself. I know who I am, and I am not a jerk." Alfred spoke bitterly; each word sounded accented and firm. "I've told you things I've never told any of my other friends the day we first met. None of them know exactly how bad I am at school. I lead them to believe I'm average out of pride. With you, Ivan . . . I may be ashamed, but I'm not afraid to ask you for help. That means a lot to me." He looked Ivan square in the eye. "I'm not abandoning you any time soon." For a while, Ivan simply looked confused. Once he processed Alfred's words he smiled—but this smile was unusual. His usual smiles were casual, carefree, yet somehow, this one outshined them in genuity; his cheeks appeared rosier and his eyes gleamed. His happiness, to Alfred, felt raw, powerful—he didn't think he'd ever seen a smile quite like this one. He couldn't help but smile back, knowing that he had just improved someone's day, that he had the power to bring someone happiness.

"Um, Alfred? Can I . . . hug you?" the question was rather awkward, but Alfred merely shrugged. Most of the other students had gone home by now, and the ones who remained did not know him.

"Sure," Alfred replied, gathering his supplies and shoving them into his backpack. Ivan walked right over him and gave him a comforting squeeze—his broad chest and his height were enough to cause Alfred to suffocate, but he accepted the gesture. When Ivan released him, he still smiled as broadly as he did before.

"The library is now closed," a particularly annoying librarian announced. Smelling trouble, the two walked away in silence, neither one knowing quite what their friendship was.