Arthur cleared his throat. "Is that supposed to be a joke?"
Alfred's face clouded over in confusion. "Well, no, it's just, we used to be so close and stuff, that's what we called each other, and I-"
Arthur laughed bitterly. "Oh, Alfred, surely you know that we're not 'best friends forever' anymore?" 'That's a paradox,' he thought to himself. If they had been best friends forever, there would be no reason to even have this conversation. Hell, they hadn't even been best friends for a decade, much less forever. 'More like, 'Best Friends For Now,' he thought. 'Best Friends Until It's No Longer Convenient. Best Friends Until Graduation.' Hm. Was graduation when they had stopped talking? No, it had been sooner, but when?
"Uh, yeah. I, uh, I knew that. I guess I do know, I had just hoped, is all." Alfred looked downright pathetic, the way he looked so downcast and crushed. Well. Now Arthur felt like a total jerk.
"Oh, hey, Alfred, really. It's alright. I mean, it's not like this is new or anything, I knew we weren't going to keep in touch. We had actually started drifting away earlier in the year, if you recall." 'Pity that I don't.' When was it, when was it? Now it was bothering him.
"Yeah, I guess you're right. I'm sorry, man. Didn't mean to go all sad puppy on you. You just seemed so pissed off at me. But now that I remember it, you always seemed pissed off at me, even when I totally knew you weren't! I guess it's just been so long." Arthur was about to say something in response, though what he wasn't sure, when he felt Alfred's arms around him. If he had been able to form a coherent thought, maybe it would have been, 'What the hell?'
When the spontaneous hug stopped, Alfred was smiling. Of course, it was pretty rare for him not to be, but it was obvious that it hadn't been nearly as awkward for him as it had been for Arthur.
"I would have warned you, but saying "best friend hug" didn't seem to fit, given the circumstances," explained Alfred. Right, of course. "That, and you just really looked like you needed a hug." Arthur sighed, and tried not to think about how much he had needed a hug, or at the very least how much he had needed a hug from Alfred. 'No, this isn't right, I'm fine, I've moved on. I don't feel that way anymore.'
The fact was, Arthur had genuinely hoped that after ten years, seeing Alfred would be like seeing anyone else in terms of awkwardness. Sure, there would be initial awkwardness stemming from the fact that promises to 'keep in touch' were almost always outrageous lies, but then that would melt away and it would almost be like being in high school again. But no. To his dismay, being near Alfred made him feel very awkward in a way he couldn't quite put into words. There was tension between them, tension, but he couldn't explain why. Sure, things were bound to be weird since they had been so close, but that was so long ago. Why were things so damn awkward?
"So, my ex-BFF, why don't we go ahead and find our seats? Isn't the award thing soon?" Arthur glanced at his watch. The 'award thing' wasn't due to start for an hour and fifteen minutes. Still, he decided to humor him, and they walked together to the auditorium.
"Wow," said Arthur when he opened the door. Everything was so incredibly...unchanged, boring, and identical to when he had attended school. He wasn't sure why, but he had expected so much more. The uncomfortable wooden benches looked exactly the same, the room was still ugly and poorly lit, and the temperature was downright freezing as it had always been.
"I know! It's like nothing has changed at all!" exclaimed Alfred. 'Just one more thing that's exactly the same,' thought Arthur. He watched as Alfred chose a spot somewhere in the middle. "Don't just stand there, Artie, pop a squat next to me!"
Arthur gave him a look. "Seriously?" Alfred laughed. "That's disgusting," he said, cringing at the phrase. Arthur wasn't sure why he found the phrase so heinous, but he did, and he knew Alfred was saying it to irritate him.
"It means 'sit down', you pervert," said Alfred. "Are you going to do it, or am I going to have to use force?" Arthur felt his face heat up as unwanted images of what 'by force' could entail flooded his mind. 'Go away, go away, I am fine...' he thought to himself, trying as hard as he could to think about something, anything else.
"Oh, I'm the pervert. Hah. That really is something," said Arthur, trying to regain his dignity, or at least what shreds of it were currently hanging on him in tatters. In actuality, Arthur had no memory of Alfred being much of a pervert. Other than his tendency to make every sentence sound like flirtation (which, Arthur acknowledged, could have been the way he himself perceived things), Alfred never really struck Arthur as a huge pervert or anything. Still, he had to defend himself, and the best defense was a good offense, wasn't it?
"Oh please!" exclaimed Alfred, standing up to look Arthur in the eyes. "When we were in school, you always read those books. You know, the really steamy ones that had half-naked men on the cover and cheesy names like, like, I dunno, Sex Among the Stars or some crap like that. And then, I'd look over your shoulder and it would have some sentence like, "Forrest held Wyndibeth in his muscular arms and ripped her bodice off with his teeth," and I'd just be like, "What the hell?" Then you'd close the book and your face would be all red. Kind of like it is right now."
Arthur was mortified. "First of all," he began, "I only read those books for the entertainment value. You don't honestly believe I would be, um, titillated by such, such trash, do you? And, also, I think I should point out, several times you asked to borrow books from me. And, I would get them back in horrible condition. God only knows what you did with my books. I can't believe you think I'm the pervert," he finished. Lies. All of it lies. Well, most of it, anyway. He read romance novels because he liked them, certainly, but he rarely laughed when he read them. (He was prone to fits of giggling, but he took great care to only do this in private.) Also, while it was true that Alfred had borrowed some of his books, they had never been his romance novels. 'I can't believe I have to have this conversation,' he thought to himself.
"Yeah, right. 'Ooh, look at me, I am Arthur Kirkland! I love to read erotica, but trust me, I only do it because I think it's funny! I mean, it's impossible for a gentleman such as myself to be turned on by anything, ever, so don't think such things! Bla, bla, bla!'" Alfred's horrible imitation of his British accent was cringe-worthy alone; his words actually stung.
"Oh, Alfred, you never cease to amaze me with just how little you actually know! It's downright baffling how you, of all people, are making such outrageous claims. All I ever said was that my romance novels, which by the way are not the same thing as erotica, were not substantial enough on their own to, as you so vividly phrased it, 'turn me on'. There. Are you happy now?" Now it seemed he and Alfred were actually fighting. At what point had it stopped being a joke? He could feel his heart slamming against his chest, and he could hear it in his ears.
"No, no, see, that's not what I said. I said nothing turns you on, probably because you're so uptight that you wouldn't know the feeling if you had it!" Arthur scowled at Alfred. What the bloody hell did he know?
"How exactly would you know that? The last time I checked, you weren't exactly an expert on my sexuality! I don't really see how you know so much, Alfred, about something that is clearly none of your business!" And anyway, why did Alfred care?
"Because it's obvious, Arthur, that's how! Face it, you're such a prude that you've probably faked this whole conversation. Inside of your emotionless robot-mind, you're thinking, 'I'll have to look up what turned on means, since I don't actually know!'"
"Really? Because I'm pretty sure I know, Alfred."
"Oh, really? And why as that?"
"Fuck you! I know because this entire conversation is turning me on!"
Oh, no.
'Please, please tell me I didn't say that. Please, let Alfred have punched me out long ago, and knocked me out. Please let me have dreamed that conversation, even if it would be incredibly odd to dream about things like that. Oh, God, I want to die,' Arthur was sure minutes had passed, minutes that felt like hours, but in actually it hadn't even been a second.
"You liar! There's no way you can be turned on right now. Know why? Because I'm turned on right now, and if that's true than we both turned each other on, and if that's true we might as well have sex right here on this disgusting auditorium floor that probably hasn't been washed since the last time we were in it!"
Wait, what?
"Oh, God," said Alfred, after what really was a few minutes. "Hey, man, I'm really, uh, sorry I said that stuff. Just now. I mean, I was actually lying, about most of it. Like, I don't even think you're a pervert, you know? I don't know why I got so, um, worked up." Alfred's face was slightly pink, which was fairly odd since Arthur had only seen him blush once or twice.
Arthur looked at the floor. "No, no, of course not. I mean, um, me too, actually. The lying, I mean. About the, ah, majority of what I just said. Could we possibly pretend this conversation never happened?"
"Yeah, man, you know it. That would be great." A bright, sunshiny smile lit up Alfred's face, and Arthur hated himself for how much better he felt at seeing it.
"What? No! You can't do that, I won't allow it!" Alfred and Arthur both turned around to where the voice was coming from, which in this case was two rows behind them. A man with long blonde hair pouted. 'Francis? Really?' thought Arthur to himself.
"Why am I not surprised?" asked Arthur bitterly. "Oh, hello Francis, it's just lovely seeing you again. How's life, what did you end up doing, oh, and WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE WHEN ALFRED AND I ARE HAVING WHAT IS CLEARLY A PRIVATE CONVERSATION?"
Francis smirked. "Well, I do not know what you two were doing here, but I was just coming here because the award ceremony is soon." Arthur checked his clock. It was an hour until the ceremony would begin.
"Actually, you have about an hour. And since I've actually met you before, I know damn good and well that you have exactly zero reason to sit in an empty room, totally alone, to wait for an award ceremony you and I both know you have no interest in. So, care to explain yourself?"
Francis gave his hair a flip. "Fine. I heard shouting, and I recognized one of the voiced as yours, Arthur. I assumed you were about to get in a fight and lose horribly, so of course I ran over here. Imagine my...surprise...when I come in and find out that you two are about to do some much-needed release of obvious sexual tension! So come on and do it already!" Francis's emphasis on the word 'surprise' made Arthur shudder, and his desire to see him and Alfred do God-knows what was more than a little bizarre, though not for Francis, he supposed.
"Ugh, Francis, you are such a creeper," said Alfred, rolling his eyes. 'You tell him,' thought Arthur. "What the hell makes you think we'd do it with you here watching?"
"What? No! We wouldn't do it at all! Honest!" Arthur heard his voice come out as a desperate bleat. He sounded pathetic, truthfully.
Francis laughed. 'That is the worst laugh ever,' thought Arthur. 'Another thing to add to the list of things that haven't changed one bit,' "Oh, Arthur, you can't expect me to believe that you were under the impression that prom night was a secret?" Prom night? Oh.
All at once, memories of "prom night" flooded to him. Like most prom nights, it had ended in a hotel room, and apparently it hadn't been a "night to remember" because Arthur had completely forgotten, or repressed, or pushed out of his mind to the point where recollection wasn't possible. Either way, he remembered now, and a tidal wave of R-rated images flooded his mind. 'Not important, not important,' he thought, his usual method of pushing images out of his brain failing miserably. 'You have to respond to that frog right now,' and thankfully thinking of Francis had solved the problem for the moment. What could Arthur possibly say to save face now?
"Francis, you're as delusional as you are perverted. See a doctor or, better yet, a psychiatrist."
"Prom night? I can't seem to recall. Care to explain?"
"What, you think that Alfred and I-? No. No, that's entirely untrue. Sorry to burst your bubble."
"Are you high?"
"Go away, Francis."
Everything he could think of to say sounded idiotic in his brain, but it didn't matter because apparently his mouth wasn't connected to his brain anymore. He tried over and over again to get the words out, but he couldn't speak. His mouth opened and closed over and over again.
"Great job, Francis, you broke Arthur," said Alfred. "Now he's not talking. I swear, Francis, do you have to be such a pig?"
"Well, did you two...how should I put this in delicate terms...experience "the little death" on prom night, or didn't you?" Francis was twirling a strand of golden-blonde hair around his finger and smirking.
"The little death? Is that some bondage thing?" Alfred arched his eyebrows. "Because if it is, come on man, that's just...wow."
Francis frowned. "Isn't that the correct English translation? If you'll recall, English isn't my first language. In French, it's la petit mort." Then he snickered. "Actually though, I did make a tiny little mistake. That's actually a euphemism for orgasm, not sexual intercourse, but in the end what does it matter anyway?" 'Someone wipe that smirk off his face,' thought Arthur. 'It's such a pity that I don't know what to say and probably couldn't if I did know.'
"Oh," said Arthur, absentmindedly scratching the back of his neck. "Well, yeah. Duh."
"Okay, so then there should be no reason why thinking of that should disable Arthur so, unless the thought of you naked has gotten him so hot and bothered that he's at a loss for words."
"I'm fine!" Arthur managed to blurt out. "Utterly, perfectly, fine!"
Alfred smiled. Damn him. Damn him and his beautiful smile. "Well, hey, that's great!" Arthur watched as he turned to Francis. "You are a lucky man, you know that?"
Francis smiled broadly. "Oh, I'm sorry, were you going to beat me up if I did something to hurt your little girlfriend?"
Arthur scowled. "Francis, you are a pervert, and you need to leave, right now." To his surprise, Francis did turn around to leave (but not before shouting at the both of them to 'get some' while he was away). When the door slammed shut, Arthur turned to Alfred. "So, was this conversation actually getting somewhere, or...?" Alfred cut him off.
"You seemed pretty freaked out by what Francis said and, hey, I totally understand that, but I just want you to know that he's really, really stupid, and you probably shouldn't give anything he says too much thought. Okay, that's it, I'm done." He sat down on the bench, and Arthur sat down next to him.
"I don't ever consider anything Francis says as truth, Alfred. You know that." He placed his hands neatly in his lap and scratched mindlessly at his left thumbnail with his right one. There was an awkward silence.
"Hey, Arthur?" Arthur looked up.
"Yes, Alfred?"
"After, um, prom, why did we stop being friends?"
"You're asking me that? I can't believe this." He sighed, and held his head in his hands. He spoke carefully and slowly. "You know things would have been awkward. After what I did. What we did. I knew you would tell me not to talk to you or contact you or whatever eventually. I didn't want that kind of pain, so I cut off all ties, and I did it first. See, it was a defense mechanism. I didn't want to be hurt, so I made myself a stranger. Besides, it was prom. It was almost the end of the year. Surely I could live without Alfred F. Jones for a little more than a month, couldn't I? And I did. I mostly hung out with 33, letting you stay with 'the guys' and in all honesty I was happier for it. Sure, I still had to look at you in the hallways, still had to see your smile lighting up everything and everyone around you." He sighed again, this time more slowly and deliberately. "But at least I didn't have to wonder. I didn't have to wonder, 'could there be more?', because there was more, and then-" Arthur choked on his words a bit. For some reason, he had this aching need to get everything out, even when he should have stopped long before he had started. "There was more, Alfred, I know, and then there was none."
Wow. That had come out so downright depressing. He had to have sounded like a teenage girl, or worse. Perhaps the worst part about it was how all of it was true. The words had spilled out without him being able to control them.
The look on Alfred's face was heartbreaking. It hurt him to look at. As much as Arthur damned Alfred's smile every time he saw it, he desperately wanted it back now, almost needed it. He was just beginning to panic when Alfred spoke.
"Um...okay, Arthur, here's the thing. When you stopped talking to me, I was completely devastated. Like, you were my best friend in the whole world, and then suddenly you drop off the face of the Earth. It made no sense. I called and you wouldn't pick up, I would say 'hi' and you would turn away. I hope you know, that totally screwed me up." Arthur winced. In all honesty, he had expected someone as popular and optimistic as Alfred to completely bounce back from, well, just about anything. He had assumed his disappearance would be a burden lifted off of Alfred.
"But I probably should clear something up, here. Maybe I was a tease in high school, I really don't know." He laughed, but this time it sounded bitter. "If I remember right, I made my feelings toward you pretty obvious. You on the other hand, you were just plain confusing. I mean seriously, the only time I even had a solid idea on whether or not you liked me was when you were taking your pants off in that hotel room, you know?" Arthur coughed a little at this, and felt his face flush a bit, but said nothing.
"Seriously though, did you like me or not? You were so weird, Arthur! I think what I'm getting here from you is, "I'm upset because you never made a move," but of course I didn't! I mean, God Arthur, I wasn't a mind reader! You had a pattern, you know. First, we'd be normal. Then, we'd do something that implied you actually did have feelings for me, and then you'd deny it and cover it up, leaving me completely confused, and then the cycle would repeat itself." Now Alfred was looking him directly in the eyes. "I don't know why you thought I didn't like you. For one, I don't care how close they are, guys do not hug unless there is something else going on." Arthur thought about it and, when he realized how true it was, mentally slapped his forehead.
"Well, anyway, thanks for answering my question and stuff," said Alfred, still looking him in the eyes. To be honest, the eye contact made Arthur rather uncomfortable. He wanted desperately to break it, but didn't want to seem weak. Then, Alfred smiled. "Though I do have one other question for you, though."
"Really? And what's that?"
Alfred smirked. "Did you like it?"
"Oh God yes," Arthur blurted out, then covered his mouth with his hands. Well, it wasn't as if his comment would make things more awkward than they already were. "Just kidding, I hated it. Hated it to pieces. I wanted to shower forever and a day afterwards," though he knew he didn't sound very convincing afterwards.
Alfred was laughing. "See? Nothing has changed, Artie. Not even you." It was with a mixture of disappointment and relief that Arthur realized it was true. He had been so hung up on how little everything and everyone else had changed, he hadn't even noticed how little he himself had changed. "You still can't decide if you want me or not," he said, grinning. Arthur opened his mouth to reply to this, when the door opened, and Liz, Rod, and Gil walked in, followed by Ludwig and Feliciano, as well as some people who Arthur didn't recognize. Well, this conversation would clearly have to wait until later.
In a weird little way, he was almost disappointed that they had been interrupted. Even though he hadn't the slightest clue as to how he was going to respond, he had to admit that he was curious to find out. Now he would overthink it and in all likelihood say something so perfectly crafted that it was no longer the truth. However, it was still a harder thing to respond to than he had thought.
'You still can't decide if you want me or not.'
How was he supposed to respond to that? While it wasn't a question, it was still something he didn't quite know himself. 'I don't want him, do I? No, that was then. And now that we've talked things out, all of that so-called sexual tension is gone. Thank God, too. No, I don't want him. Not at all.' But before he could enjoy the sanity he had crafted, a voice in his head whispered, 'Lying to yourself again, Arthur? Who are you trying to fool?' Arthur bit his lip. 'I don't want him, I don't,' but he looked at Alfred and his heart started beating faster, and he wondered if that meant he was wrong.
"The award ceremony will start in fifteen minutes," said a man's voice over the speakers, and Arthur was acutely aware of how much time had passed. "I can't wait," said Alfred, grinning. "How about you, Arthur?"
"Yes, it should be i-interesting," he stammered. Great, his voice was failing again. Why did it seem like his social skills were deteriorating yet again? Arthur sighed, and wondered what good could possibly come of the likely tedious award ceremony. Nothing good, he thought, but that was where he was wrong.