This is set in the same AU scenario as "Adventure" (aka "What The Fuck Have I Done?"). It's less of a sequel than an expansion on their past in that AU, but it makes more sense if you read that one first. This is basically just like "Adventure"; a bunch of interconnected vignettes, all about pretty much the same thing, with some actual story at the end.

I'd recommend reading this on LiveJournal (there's a link to the community on my profile) because there's a song in it that I had to take out to put this here. I think it reads better with the song.

000

The only thing Arthur brought with him upon adoption, aside from his clothing, was a guitar that he said was given to him by one of the caretakers in his orphanage before he retired. It was an old acoustic, slightly too big for him, and with a crack in it that was held together by duct tape. He didn't have a pick for it; he had just let his fingernails grow long enough that he could use them for the same purpose. He played both right- and left-handed, whichever way he picked up the guitar.

He couldn't read music. He had taught himself to play, and was used to playing by ear. He could pick out the tune to any song, but could never read notes, or write them down. He learned eventually, from one of teachers at the middle school, but he usually kept to his memory. He said that notes tied him down, and using his own judgment made the music sound more natural.

For the first year or so, before Arthur was used to his new home, he would often shut himself in his bedroom and play for hours. He never realized that Alfred would always sit outside the door and listen to him play. Alfred liked it best when Arthur sang. Arthur didn't have a great singing voice, but he got the notes right and put so much passion into whatever he sang that the cracking high notes and overly quiet low notes didn't bother him.

By the time Arthur became comfortable enough with his new family to bring his guitar down to the family room to play, Alfred was obsessed. He would sit on the stairs and watch in awe, until one day Arthur stopped playing, looked straight at Alfred, came and sat next to him, and went on playing right there on the steps.

Alfred was required to take either choir, drama, or an instrument during middle school, and he decided on taking violin. His parents didn't think it fit him, but he insisted on it. He practiced at home well into the night, always with the reason that he wanted to "be as awesome as Arthur" at an instrument. It worked eventually; by his freshman year in high school he was playing at the same level as the seniors, and joining Arthur in near-daily practice.

Matthew would always joke that they should start a band, since they loved playing so much. Arthur suggested he join them on piano once, and he did, but just that once. Alfred kept asking him to come back and practice with them again, but Matt always said he felt like he didn't fit in with them, and that he had "joined the party a little too late".

Alfred dropped orchestra, though, in his sophomore year, in favor of an elective that would help him reach his dream job of becoming an astronaut, and because he took up sports and felt he didn't have enough time to practice an instrument any more. He kept the violin, though, and managed to still play with Arthur sometimes, but not for the long hours every day they used to do.

He missed it. He missed being able to sit with his brother-from-another-mother and play some of his favorite songs for hours. Arthur still played on his own, since he did all of his own homework in school and claimed to do better on tests without studying, and he was a senior anyways, and had caught Senioritis just like every other graduating student. Alfred could hear the music through the wall their bedrooms shared, only slightly muffled. It didn't bother him. He was so used to hearing Arthur play that he almost tuned it out.

He still spent more time with Arthur than with anyone else. He was the first to find out that Arthur had gotten a full scholarship to a university on the other side of the ocean. He would never admit to it afterwards, but Alfred broke down crying when Arthur said he had already decided to go. Arthur wanted to go back to England, even if only for the four years he'd spend in college. Alfred didn't ever want him to leave. He'd be losing his best friend. Alfred loved Matthew and all of his friends from school, but Arthur was the person he could share anything with. Arthur never judged him - not seriously, at least; always sarcastically.

And he was leaving. At first, Alfred took it as a personal insult, as if Arthur didn't like him anymore and was leaving to get away from him. He didn't show it, but he got angrier every day that it got closer to Arthur leaving.

Alfred was a good actor. He had been hiding any emotion he'd had other than happiness for years. Arthur still noticed Alfred's change in attitude around him, but didn't say anything. He got distant from everyone, and it just made Alfred worry more that Arthur hated him. It didn't help that Arthur wouldn't let Alfred see the book he had written, the one that got him that scholarship.

Alfred lost it. He just up and left one day, drove to God-knows-where, and all he said on his way out was, "I hope you're happy, Arthur." He didn't come back until the dark hours of the next morning.

He didn't see that Arthur stayed awake, waiting to make sure he got back safely. He didn't see Arthur come almost out to the hall as he passed by his room, or how he turned away and covered his face when he noticed Alfred smelled like blood and had something wrapped around his arm, or how he ran back into the darkness of his room as Alfred walked into the bathroom to take a shower. All Alfred noticed was Arthur crying an hour later, hearing him through their shared wall as he had heard his guitar so many times.

Matthew woke up when Alfred came in. "You're a dick," he said, and turned back toward the opposite wall. That kind of blunt anger was rare from Matthew; the few times he did show his anger always turned into long rants about everything that was wrong with Alfred. This - the cold shoulder and a spontaneous all-encompassing stab to the soul - hurt more than any thought out insult.

Alfred got up and grabbed his violin out of the corner on impulse. Not bothering to knock on the closed (but unlocked, always unlocked for Alfred) door, he just walked into Arthur's room - he probably wouldn't have let him in otherwise. He sat down and started to tune the violin. He hadn't played in months and the strings sounded terrible.

He didn't have any song in mind, and just played whatever came to mind, not really caring if his parents woke up. They'd probably just be happy that he was home.

"I haven't done this in a while. Played for you, I mean. I miss it."

"Why… Why did you think I'd be happy if… if you left?"

Alfred felt like he had just been kicked in the stomach, and not entirely because he had been earlier. The violin screeched, and he rested it on the bed. He'd forgotten that he said that.

"Answer me."

"I thought you were going back to England because you didn't like me anymore." It was then that it hit him how stupid that sounded.

"You're such a child."

"Sarcasm doesn't work when you're trying to hold back from crying."

"Shut it." He attempted to punch Alfred's arm, but stopped when he saw the bandage on it. "Who did you get in a fight with?"

"Matt's friend. The Cuban guy."

"Hm." Arthur sat up and started unwrapping the bandage.

"Agh! Stop it-"

"You didn't scream before, so I'll assume you didn't disinfect it. I'm not about to let you get your arm amputated because of a stupid fight. How deep is it?"

Alfred almost didn't take Arthur seriously - he still had tear-tracks on his cheeks - but he thought better of it. "Pretty deep. He ran like hell when he did that. Probably didn't even mean to cut me that bad. Since when do you keep disinfectant in your room?"

"Since I realized that I don't want you seeing my injuries after I lose my temper at the wrong people. Now hold still and keep talking."

"About what?"

"Anything. You're good at that." There was that sarcasm that Alfred had missed so much.

Alfred shifted uncomfortably. He could talk, sure, but only when he had something to say. "Um…"

Arthur sighed. "Tell me about what you were doing while you were gone."

"Um, well, I went to the school first… "

"Mm-hmm…"

"I just sort of passed by and then went to the park and walked around for an hour or so. Kiku showed up with Heracles and I didn't really want to talk to them so I left before they saw me. I started walking around for a while and ended up on the other side of town-" He hissed loudly when Arthur pressed a hand towel, damp with rubbing alcohol, to his arm.

"You'll need stitches on this," Arthur said, pulling back the towel to wrap a clean bandage around Alfred's arm. "I'll take you to the hospital tomorrow."

"That really stung…"

"You could thank me."

"Thanks. But it still stung."

"Oh, stop being such a child. Go to bed already."

"Okay. On one condition…"

"What's that?"

Alfred held up his violin. "You're playing with me tomorrow."

"You're the one who always says he doesn't have time."

"Please?"

"Fine."

"Awesome!"

"It's not for you, though. I just want to practice with someone."

"Uh-huh. Sure. 'Night, Arthur."

"Goodnight."