Warning: There will be A LOT of dialogue in this chapter, and we all know perfectly well that too much dialogue can just be downright annoying.

I did try to find a way to make this violation in the laws of writing more bearable. Hopefully it will work out, but if not, well just keep in mind that this chapter did hold some relevance to the plot.


After a few days had passed since his unexpected meeting with Alfred, Arthur once more found himself sitting on his bed, and staring at a wall out of pure boredom. Of course, he tried out multiple strategies in order to find a way to entertain himself, but nothing seemed to work. Much to Arthur's resentment, it was clear that his first plan on avoiding Alfred simply wouldn't work. Instead, he figured that he would have to be careful not to cross Alfred's path whenever he decided to leave his house. If nothing else worked, Arthur reckoned that he would just have to tell his new neighbor to stop hanging out with him, and he planned on doing so with as much apathy as possible.

Once Arthur was absolutely sure that Alfred would not be going outside anytime soon, he quickly changed his clothes into something more suitable for the humid summer weather, and walked out into the front yard of his house. Yet again, he was faced with another conflict, Well, I'm outside, so now what should I do? Maybe I could take a hike in the woods, or walk around town just for the heck of it. Okay, the second option is definitely out of the question. Who knows, if I walked around town, I might encounter that stupid frog and his idiot friends. Well, into the woods I go then.

Arthur was about to make his way towards the nearby forest that happened to be a few blocks away, but immediately refrained from moving as soon as he saw Alfred walk outside. It didn't take long for the shock to alter into that of ire as his thoughts became rapid, Oh come on! That idiot just went inside about ten minutes ago! Why is he out here now!?

Alfred did not take notice of Arthur right away, so the Brit decided to flee back into the safety of his house. If the situation wasn't already going against Arthur's desires, it was now, for Alfred did eventually perceive his neighbor's presence, and as soon as he did so, he called out, "Oh hi Arthur! Do you want to toss this football back and forth with me?"

The grunt of annoyance that Arthur produced was nearly inaudible, but nonetheless, it was still present. After all, he had almost managed escape Alfred's field of view, just so close to the point where the effort that was deposited into it ended up going to waste. It was definitely not one of Arthur's finest moments, and did nothing more than create more animosity within him towards his new neighbor. A few moments passed before Arthur finally decided to break the awkward silence that was beginning to develop, "Absolutely not. I have plans that I'd rather attend to than to play some silly game with a ball."

"Oh come on, it'll be fun." Alfred enticed, "Hey, I'll even make my throws softer for you, since you are very scrawny."

"Scrawny!?" Arthur's face began to flush, he felt as if he was about to lose it just from that one comment, "Yes, I understand that I'm a little underweight, but not to the point where I can't even handle catching a ball from a so called 'athlete'."

At first, Alfred just stared at Arthur with a straight face before he began to burst out laughing. The reaction was just too much for Arthur to stomach, and in his frustration, he could feel his throat tighten as tears began to accumulate in his eyes. By the time Alfred was over his hysteric laughter, he gazed at Arthur once more, and the smile on his face immediately vanished when he realized that he just reached the constraint of the Brit's displeasure. Alfred tried his best to sound reassuring, "Hey, I was only teasing. Of course you can handle catching a ball, and it doesn't matter how strong the person is when they throw it to you."

Arthur ignored the desperate flattery as he demanded with a glare, "Just toss me the stupid football."

Alfred obeyed, and threw the football to his 'friend'. What happened next was not something he would've ever expected the Brit to do. As soon as Arthur caught to football, he violently whipped it with as much force as he could muster. The result couldn't have been more amusing to Arthur. The football slammed right into Alfred's face with a loud clonk, which ultimately resulted in the American clumsily falling backwards onto the sidewalk. Arthur couldn't help but chortle as he watched Alfred slowly stand up once more with a groan of pain. By the time he had fully recovered from the impact of the blow, Alfred complained, "Well geeze Artie. What the heck was that for?"

Arthur scowled in response, "Don't call me that!"

"Seriously dude," Alfred continued, ignoring Arthur's response, "That was uncalled for. Do you just not want to be friends with me or something?"

"You've finally figured it out, you twit," Arthur snarled, "Of course we're not friend. We could never be friends. Here, why don't I explain this to you in a way that will help you understand the situation? Think of a cat and a dog. I'm the cat, a more calm, and sophisticated individual, and you're the dog, the hyperactive idiot who decides to ruin everything. We have absolutely nothing in common, therefore, we would never get along. Did that make any sense to you, or am I going to have to simplify it even more?"

For quite a while, Alfred gave Arthur a blank stare as he held the football. Then suddenly, he threw the ball, and yelled, "Heads up!"

Arthur quickly dodged the football with a tiny yelp, and then turned to glare at Alfred, "Did you even listen to a word I just said, or did you already forget!?"

"Arthur, I remember everything you said," Alfred answered, and then added with a smile, "It's just that one analogy you used with the cat and the dog. After hearing that description, it's hard for me to take you seriously. Don't you think the way you described us was a little, strange?"

"Strange!?" If Arthur hadn't been enraged by the taller teenager, he was now, "That description was not strange! It was merely a form of literature! Nothing you'd understand, of course."

"No no, I didn't mean it in a bad way," Alfred tried to elaborate, "You did portray us in an accurate, but offensive to me, way. I knew exactly what you were trying to communicate, but it's just not something I would expect a teenager to say. You know what I mean?"

"Oh," Arthur felt his expression relax, and added timidly, "Well, there are quite a few people who know me for going above and beyond the standards of the average teenager when it comes to literature, and what not."

Alfred nodded his head with interest, and stated, "Sometimes, I kind of wish that I was good at writing, but the problem is that I can't sit still for long periods of time. That's why I prefer sports. It's all because of my ADHD I tell ya."

Of course, Arthur obviously knew that Alfred was much too hyper for his liking, but the fact that he had attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder still somehow managed to surprise him. Then a rather rude question popped into his head. He knew it wouldn't be wise, but risked asking it anyways, "Have you ever tried taking some pills to control your disorder?"

"No," Alfred answered casually, completely undeterred by the question, "I would never remember to take them. Besides I don't really care if I have ADHD or not anyways. Say, would you mind passing me the football?"

Arthur complied to the request without a single complaint. It was completely unlike him, especially since he didn't even mind touching the football. None of this seemed to phase him at all, but what did end up surprising him was when as soon as Alfred received the football, he immediately threw it back to Arthur with much force. Sure, it startled Arthur, but instead of dodging it this time, he caught it, and stumbled back a bit. He threw the football back, not wanting to be outdone by some American.

The football continued to fly back and forth between the two teenagers, and it didn't take too long for Arthur to realize that he was, in fact, enjoying the simple game. Once he viewed the activity as being repetitive, but that was only from his experience of watching his peers participate in it back when he was in elementary. Now that he was actually playing the catch game with someone else, his perspective changed. Wow, Arthur thought in awe, allowing himself to smile, I never thought a game as repulsive as this one would actually be so much fun! It was so narrow minded of me to assume that a pastime such as this one would've been utterly boring. Alfred caught the football once more, and announced with a slight grin, "Hey, you're actually smiling for once!"

Arthur forced his smile to disappear as he retorted, "Yeah, so what?"

"I just knew I could get you to do it," Alfred beamed, and then asked, "Do you think we could go somewhere nice, and get to know each other better?"

"Well," Arthur began, "I know of a nearby park. Not one of those parks that kids play at, but it's more of a clearing of grass with a few trees, and some benches."

Alfred smiled, "That sounds nice, lead the way!"

While Arthur led Alfred to the park, he began to glance around at the scenery around him. It was simply a habit of his to become lost in thought while staring into the background. After all, it did grant him some ideas for stories he enjoyed writing in the past. He enjoyed having such creativity, and sometimes, he would wonder why exactly it had been sapped away from him in the middle of eighth grade. By the time they were almost to the park, Arthur looked at Alfred to find that he was currently checking out his surroundings, just as his British friend had. Of course, he did it for a different reason. The obvious reason being that he was just becoming familiar with the new town.

Arthur and Alfred decided to sit down on the first bench in sight. Once seated, Alfred inquired, "So what do you like to do for fun?"

Dread began to prick at Arthur's spine. If there was one thing he absolutely abhorred, it was answering questions about his personality. The shorter teen attempted to steady the nervous quiver in his voice as he answered, "Well, I do enjoy reading, and writing stories. You know, nothing that would urk any interest."

Much to Arthur's relief, Alfred had once more failed to detect the mood of the situation. Therefore, he did not take any notice in Arthur's timid behavior. Instead, he decided to keep the conversation going, "How much time do you usually spend writing?"

Did he just continue the conversation as if I'm not socially inept? Arthur thought as a pleasant shock passed through him, Wow. I actually played the social game correctly for once. This is the first functional conversation I've had with someone my age since sixth grade. The first conversation in quite a while that I actually seem to be enjoying! Arthur began to feel himself quiver with excitement, but the exhilaration was soon replaced by a wave of embarrassment when he realized how awkward he must've been acting, Great, I'm getting excited over nothing. I need to control myself before Alfred starts having second thoughts about being my friend. Even though he already is a rather unusual individual himself. Regaining his composure, Arthur answered the question as casually as he could, "Well, it depends. There are times when I am struck with an endless amount of inspiration, and will end up spending four hours during a school day just writing a story. Then there are times when I can't even think up one unique sentence for the life of me."

"Wow, you seem to be really dedicated to your stories." Alfred nodded his head in awe, and then perked up as he began to speak what seemed to be a million miles per hour, "So what types of stories do you write? Is there a genre you absolutely hate? When did you begin to write? What was the longest story you've ever written? How many words make up one page? What was the best-"

"Alfred, shut up!" Arthur commanded, and then added in a softer tone after Alfred went silent, "I realize that you extremely inquisitive, and there's absolutely nothing wrong with that, but please try to slow down with the questions."

"Oh," Alfred replied, slightly embarrassed, "Sorry about that."

There was a moment of silence as Arthur began to study the few trees that occupied his surroundings. This time however, the trees had brought him memories of Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio, instead of the usual inspiration they were always believed to provide. Perhaps it was the conversation with Alfred that had triggered some of the negative thoughts, but Arthur could not find it in himself to place the blame on the innocent American. Even if the blame would of never been expressed in anyway, he still didn't think it'd be ethical. Actually, Arthur began to consider, maybe it would be a good idea to inform Alfred of that stupid trio. After all, he's new here, and still needs to learn some things about this town. Returning his gaze towards Alfred, he began the new topic, "By the way, there are three teenagers in this town known as Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio, or as some people call them, the Bad Touch trio. They're extremely popular, for whatever reason, and they definitely aren't worth your time, so by all means, just avoid them if you can."

Alfred slightly tilted his head to the side as he asked, "Did they do something terrible?"

"I can't say that they're terrible people. I just happen to hate them with a burning passion." Arthur explained, and then added, "Just in case you happen to see them before you speak to them, Francis is French, and has long, so called 'beautiful' golden locks. Gilbert is an albino, so I think it will be easy for you to pick him out of a crowd in this small town. Lastly, there's Antonio. He's a Spaniard, and is a little dark compared to his friends. I actually don't hate him, since he doesn't really seem to cause any harm, but that doesn't mean I like him."

"Wow," Alfred chortled, "I thought you were the only one around here who wasn't American."

Arthur couldn't help but laugh as well. Once he managed to regain his composure, he replied with a giggle, "Believe it or not, there are actually a lot of people in this town who came from different countries."

"Screw logic," Alfred declared, "Let's just cram everyone in the world into this small town!"

Arthur gripped his stomach as a harsh fit of laughter erupted through his body. The guffaw between the two lasted for what seemed to be a few minutes before they finally managed to settle down. Wiping a tear from his eye, Arthur thought giddily, For the longest time, I actually believed that Francis had successfully stomped out my sense of humor. I haven't laughed so hard at such a 'stupid' joke in quite a while now. Okay, maybe the wording of the joke was a little strange, but I don't care. The concept was funny enough. Alfred brought Arthur from his thoughts as he inquired, "So how come you hate Francis and Gilbert?"

Arthur immediately became wroth when the question was asked, but answered anyways, "It's hard not to hate someone when all they ever did the entire time you knew them was strike havoc on your life, and constantly try to diminish anything that gives you any joy. Not to mention, constant humiliation. For what good reason do these two idiot insist on using in order to back up their hatred towards me? It's because I'm apparently "never going to have any friends'. I know, they have an invalid argument."

"Geeze Artie," Alfred exclaimed, "they go through all that trouble to pick on you, just because they think that you'll always be friendless? If those two are popular, then what type of people live in this town?"

"Not everyone in this town is terrible," Arthur explained, "It's just that no one our age wants to get on that stupid trio's bad side. Some of the adults around here can actually be quite friendly."

Alfred glanced at his watch, and complained, "Oh crap. I forgot that my parents wanted me to help them rearrange some furniture, and I was only suppose to be out here for half of an hour. I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Okay, good bye then." Arthur replied, and then mentally added, He seems to be alright. A lot better than I thought he'd be.