Chapter One

Every morning I get up at six AM sharp, even if I didn't plan to.

My morning schedule had been drilled into my head by my mother: "School starts at seven thirty and the bus arrives at seven. It takes ten minutes to make yourself decent, an additional five to iron your clothes. Making lunch usually takes ten minutes and eating takes five. Then you have to walk to the bus stop, which takes fifteen minutes as well according to your timer. You should be at your bus stop by six fifty five."

She had written it all down in red pen and stapled it to my bedroom wall and always tell me: "Don't forget."

That's the only way she would speak to me, like I was her client receiving deadlines or an intern who needed to get a certain type of coffee. It's the only way my father would speak to me as well. He'd bark orders if he wasn't ignoring me. It was always "ask your mother" or "I'm busy".

Annoying.

But I would listen and memorize, and right now as I bit into a piece of buttered toast I was glancing at the kitchen timer until my five minutes were up.

"I'm off to school, mom. Good luck at the office today, dad."

On school mornings such as these, I used to hear my mother chatting to someone on the phone. I'd smell a pot of coffee and see my dad checking his wristwatch frantically, muttering to himself. Not even a smile or a wave. Each morning I tasted disgust on my tongue.

Each day I hoped they would say: "Good morning, Arthur," or at least wave me goodbye, but they never did. It was always work that was on their minds. Work should have been there first and only child.

But it doesn't matter now. They can work in the basement where their bodies currently rot.

I should feel bad about tricking my parents to go into the basement and then locking them in there. I should feel bad about not giving them food or water and refusing to pay attention to their desperate apologies. Isn't that some sort of torture? I could've gotten arrested – I know that much. How did I pull it off?

That memory is fuzzy – I don't exactly remember what I said or did at that time.

I just know they're dead and it's what they deserved.

How could it be bad when they deserved it?

While I wait for my bus, I read. It's the one thing that gives my life pleasure. I loved all books, but my favorite kinds of books were romance novels. I've read Romeo and Juliet so many times I could recite it to myself whenever I wanted to read it again.

There was something about falling in love that seemed to magical to me, and it was free. Everybody got the chance to do it.

I don't know much about it, but I know when I find love that it will smack me in the face. My parents 'love' for me was fake, as I never felt it, so I must have never loved my parents. Perhaps when I was young and foolish, but at seventeen years old I no longer feel a pang of longing for their existence.

When I think about it now, I have never genuinely loved someone my entire life. But I would eventually.

I know that somewhere there is somebody waiting for me to claim them, and when I find them, I'll hold on and never let go. Because it would be true love, and a love like that should be strong and eternal no matter what happened. One day, I would be the happy man holding someone close to me.

I thought about this with a soft smile as I climbed into the bus and sat in the front, behind the bus driver. I knew that kids usually don't sit here and prefer to be left alone with my thoughts and my dreams.

The sun was peeking out from the clouds and reflecting on the shiny pavement. It had rained yesterday – it always rains here in Jacksonville, Florida when it isn't burning hot.

Most find the musky, damp smell of the hot sun on water unpleasant, but it soothes me. So did the soft rumbling of the bus as it traveled. I could fall asleep this way, and I would've, if I hadn't been approached.

"Hey, Arthur! What's up?" Ah, yes. Antonio Carriedo. One of the fakes. There were two others in this group: Francis Bonnefoy, the flirt who always seemed to have something smart to say and Gilbert Beilschmidt the albino German transfer, although he insists to be Prussian because of his roots.

All three were equally annoying; however I've been long able to tolerate them to the point where there annoyance was actually a bit endearing.

They weren't my friends. I didn't have any friends. They were Fake Arthur's friends. Fake Arthur talked to them and they talked to him. They were practically unreal to me. When they laughed about something, Fake Arthur would always laugh with them. They kept me around as long as Fake Arthur was around. I was the fourth addition to the fakes.

"Did you know? Somebody's transferring to this school from a private one. I hope they aren't stuck up or rude. That would be annoying." He keeps talking even though I haven't responded. It's as though he needs to gossip to someone or he'd pop. It used to drive me insane, but now I'm just used to it.

I suppose it's about time I change to Fake Arthur. The Arthur who always has this half smirk, half boyish grin and leans in whenever somebody talks to him as if he was interested. "Is that so? Kids from private schools are always big kiss ups in books, so I guess you could make that assumption." Antonio nods enthusiastically, pleased that I'm engaging in the conversation. "You're right! I shouldn't be judging. But all the girls are practically jiggling in their seats because apparently the transfer is a boy – and a good looking one. Francis might have a rival!"

I snort automatically at this one. Francis had a reputation for being the best looking boy at school, but only because he was well known. I knew plenty of boys who could easily take the title. As for the rumor, I didn't care much for another transfer. Just another boy out of hundreds of others in the god forsaken school.

"That's so stupid. Everyone is better looking than Francis." He laughs at that and I laugh along to avoid tension. We continue to talk about unimportant things such as homework and how a teacher did us wrong. I never had problems in school. I got the occasional scolding to be more social in group projects, but other than that I was an angel with my straight A's and excellence at soccer.

The bus pulled in with the other buses by the school and kids poured out like ants. The amount of kids in this school makes me want to puke. It's too much noise – I can barely stand it. My expression goes slack and Fake Arthur takes a small break. I hurry and collect my things so I can relax in the library with my laptop for a few minutes before History class starts.

I love my laptop. I'm often referred to as a computer whiz, and whenever a teacher needs technology assistance, I'm the first person they call for. Due to computer classes, I'm very skilled when it comes to typing and formatting websites. Nobody is supposed to know, but I'm also quite good at hacking into people's devices and creating viruses of different levels.

Once, for a prank, I put in an easy virus on Gilbert's home computer. It was a harmless one – it just automatically logged him off the device whenever he logged on. It drove him bonkers and I enjoyed it to the fullest.

I play around with my computer until the warning bell rings, then head to class. Not before Gilbert spots me, though. What a coincidence. Just my luck I have him in my first period. Fake Arthur pushes himself into control and waves before walking up to him.

"'Ey, Artie!" Ugh. Didn't anybody understand that nobody in the whole wide world uses nicknames in high school? Artie was the monstrosity that hid behind the name Arthur. It's followed me from the beginning of time. I imagine stabbing him in the arm with my pencil and leaving bright red marks. Or maybe I could smack him with my laptop? I just wanted to imagine him scream in pain. This was an easy way I could manage to make myself feel a bit better before talking.

"Can you help me out with this? I still can't figure out how to take pictures on this damn thing." Not even I understand how these new phones work. I've had a flip phone for ages. However, this is an easy problem to fix, but apparently not for Gilbert since he lacks common sense. "Gilbert, you fucking idiot, you don't even have a quality app to take one." Downloading takes the rest of the trip to class, and I hand it back to him once we're sitting down. "Awesome." He grins, and stuffs it in his pocket.

Personally, I can't stand how often he says the word 'awesome'. At least he doesn't try speaking German. His accent is enough for me.

Everyone else floods into the classroom, and an interested but silent buzz fills the air when the teacher has an announcement to make once the first period bell rings.

I sigh softly. I wish she had told about the student before hand, but everyone knows about her absentmindedness. It must be horribly embarrassing to be the only one who has to introduce yourself. Nevertheless, she explains that there's a new student and we have to treat them well and so it goes. It sounded rehearsed or copied straight from a book, something like: "Class, we have a new student today. I want you all to make him feel welcome."

She faces the door and nods. "You can come in now."

The classroom stared as the door flew open and the student grinned after approaching the front of the classroom.

"Morning, guys! My name is Alfred Jones."

I look him in the eyes and my heart stops.

For a second, it hurts. I feel like I'm going to die. My stomach has exploded into a thousand butterflies and my body is rendered useless. I can't move or breathe.

But at the same time, it's as though I've just been born. I feel light headed and dizzy, but in the best of ways. It was like I could fly right then and there. My body had vibrated – there was a tingling sensation all over for a few quick seconds, similar to the feeling of your foot or hand falling asleep. I was warm from head to toe and it felt utterly and completely wonderful.

This was it. What I've been waiting for.

Love at first sight. Love, no, true love. There was no other explanation to how quickly I reacted to him. My mind raced excitedly. I wanted him. I loved him. I love Alfred Jones. I love his beautiful blue eyes, his adorable smile, and his perfect hair. I already love everything about him.

The feeling lingered as he sat in the empty seat in the middle of the classroom – right next to me. My heart soared with delight. How lucky could I get? This was perfect. Absolutely perfect. He grins at me and I feel my ears go hot with embarrassment. I give him a welcoming smile in return, and quickly avert my eyes. I was being horribly silly; acting just like a girl would in an overrated teen novel. I suppose now I understand why those books are so horrid. They got the feeling of love hopelessly wrong.

I sneak looks at him, trying to look casual when I'm actually already memorizing his appearance. It's obvious he's worn that brown bomber jacket for a while now – it must be his favorite. I find myself loving how he dresses casually with his long sleeved t-shirt and faded jeans.

I stare at him longingly for the rest of the class. I couldn't help it. I found myself desperately wishing he'd look at me too. Certainly he felt what I felt – that's how true love works. It went both ways. I would know. Maybe that meant that perhaps he didn't? He could've easily confused it with nervous energy from our eye contact.

I had a nagging need to know every detail about him, so I made sure to write that in the corner of my notes. I knew how love worked, and this was definitely not going to be a failure. I had to know everything about him and how he might feel so we could be a perfect match. I observed him carefully, writing down everything. How he jiggled his left knee when he looked around the classroom. How he pushed his pale gray glasses up with his pointer finger.

I made extra note on how he didn't take many notes - not on me unfortunately - on the lesson. I would be sure to help him with his studies if studying is something he's bad at. I imagine him leaning against my shoulder and pointing at a problem, but then we both accidentally look up too fast and our noses brush together. His full lips would draw closer…

I gripped the edge of my desk and smiled giddily to myself.

Class seems to end too quickly and I felt my heart pang as he gets up to talk to the teacher. I didn't want him to leave me, so in desperation to be around him longer I take my time getting my things together whilst listening to him talk to the teacher. Gilbert raises an eyebrow at me, but doesn't risk staying behind. Thank God. I can't afford a distraction.

I could hear him talk all day. I immediately rank it above the sound of a vehicle, making it the most soothing. He discusses his schedule and the teacher gives him tips about getting around the school. I want to talk to him, no, I will talk to him.

Once those two are done.

I find myself growing frustrated about how long they're talking. Every second feels like an eternity. Why can't they just fucking finish? It's as though the teacher WANTS to talk to him. Is she a pedophile? It wouldn't be a surprise. I always thought she was too nice to her students.

She used to be my favorite teacher, but as their conversation seems to go on and on, I find myself growing to hate her. How dare she use up what precious time I have left to talk to him?

I'm surprised to see that it's only been around thirty seconds when they finally stop. How could it be? It felt like it was at least an hour long. This must be what they mean when they say that when you're in love you can't stand a minute away from your lover. I make sure to ignore her goodbyes when I follow Alfred out the door.

I approach him with a smile and join him by his side in the hallway. "I'm Arthur," I say casually, trying not to sound too excited or bored. "If you need help getting around, you can ask me. I'm practically a genius when it comes to this school."

Why? Why did I say that? That wasn't funny. Fake Arthur was failing me.

"Really?" Despite my crazy talk he smiles, laughs, and claps me on the shoulder. He was touching me. Alfred was touching me. I feel myself go warm again, and I want to lean into his touch, wrap my arms around his waist and snuggle into him. I imagine that he would be warm and soft. I wonder what he smells like. "What a relief! This school is freakin' huge! I have no clue where anything is. This map is way too confusing."

Fake Arthur redeems himself, and laughs with him. "Right? When I first started here, I was late to every class. I had no clue where to go." That was a lie. I studied the map a few days in advanced and was almost the first student to each class. But I wanted to please him – make him feel comfortable talking to me. I knew it worked, because as we walked, his shoulders slumped in relief.

"Nice to know we're on the same boat! Makes me feel not-so-stupid. What's your schedule?" I compare classes with him, and my heart sinks with disappointment. We have lunch, history, and photography together. Although I'm pleased that we have similar interests, we only have three classes together. It wasn't enough. I needed to be with him all day.

I force a smile despite my disappointment and strike up a new conversation starter. "You like photography too? That's great! I usually don't meet too many guys who like it here." Alfred laughs awkwardly. He certainly laughs a lot, but there's no problem with that. It's another thing that I now love about him.

"I've never done it before, but I always thought that it was the coolest thing, so I signed up for it. Have you ever been to a photography museum? They're beautiful, man. There was one back in Cali' where I used to live. I want someone to look at something I did and go 'wow! Alfred is amazing!'" "Alfred, you are amazing."

God, I didn't mean to say that out loud, even though it was true. Alfred gives me a puzzled look and I give him one back. He then shakes his head and I breathe out silently with relief. I managed to think he misheard, but I somewhat wish he didn't. "Sorry 'bout that Arthur, I thought I heard you say something. Must've been someone else!" that sheepish, embarrassed grin is adorable, and I ignore all of the red lights my mind gives me and pat his back.

I just had to touch him again, and the minute my hand makes contact with his body I feel a jolt of electricity. Alfred must have felt that, there was no way that he didn't.

His eyes flash with what seems to be discomfort, and I bubble up with pleasure. That must have been from the electricity, no doubt about it. He feels what's between us; he's just a bit confused about it. The warning bell sounds and he jumps and jerks away from me. My body goes cold and I have to stop myself from reaching over to pull him back.

"You're a pretty cool guy, Arthur! I guess I'll see you later!" He then looks both ways before glancing down at his map and running past me.

I felt empty watching him run away from me and I already longed for him. I walked into my math classroom two doors down and sat in my seat feeling awful. I rubbed my shoulder where he touched it and it felt a bit warm, but only for a second.

This was torture.

Francis slides into the seat in front of me and I heard him turn around to face me. He's probably wearing that stupid grin he always has before speaking to me, but I didn't look to see. I instead imagined Alfred sitting beside me like he did in History, turning to smile at me. It made me feel better, but I wanted to see him in the flesh. Right now. I wanted him so much that it hurt.

"Mon lapin, you look like you saw someone die."

The pain magnified. I hated it when Francis spoke French to sound cool or professional at school. We had French classes here and I knew he spoke it at home, but terms of endearment? It bothered me to the very core. Fake Arthur pretends he didn't hear it and answers the statement.

"It's nothing. New student came in today though." Why did I bring up Alfred? I mentally slapped myself, but just talking about him made me feel a bit better already. I was only worried that Francis might want to get to know him. It was horrible, but I wanted Alfred all to myself. Although I suppose it was unavoidable, considering I'm with the three in lunch. They would cross paths eventually.

"Is that why you're so down? That's rather cruel. Is he that terrible?" I sigh – of course he wouldn't understand. I'm being too vague. "No – I told you it was nothing, you buffoon. I figured you ought to know, considering your reign as best looking king is under attack. He's quite handsome."

Great. Way to sound sketch as hell. I silently pray that he would ignore me, but I must have hit a sore spot because Francis scoffs as though offended. "Please. I have been given that title for a reason. You always take average as good looking anyways."

Instantly, I felt myself fill with anger.

He didn't know Alfred, let alone see him. How DARE he speak ill of him? My hands shook, but I clenched them and instead went for a petty, ineffective offense to hide how angry I was. If it showed, he might find out how I think about him due to my defensiveness. "Is that so? Because compared to him, you're below average. You're as ugly as a toad." I said in a forced teasing tone.

I could kill him.

Francis narrows his eyes at me and is about to say something, but the teacher comes in before he could utter a word. As I pull my homework out, I shake off my anger and instead wonder about what Alfred could be doing and how long I can last before lunch without seeing his face.

I got to the cafeteria early.

The past hours had indeed been hell. I hadn't been called out for not paying attention even though my mind was only on Alfred. I heard his voice and saw his face no matter what I did, and I didn't try to ignore it. It was the only thing that gave me peace.

When the lunch bell finally rang, I didn't waste any time getting here. I used to hate packing my lunches, but now I'm grateful that I don't have to stand in a line. I don't want to risk missing Alfred or having him sit at a different table. But what if he does? What if he's made new friends already? What if some girl poisoned his mind and he forgot about me? I couldn't let that happen.

No, I needed to calm down. Alfred was my friend for now - his first on his first day. There's no doubt we already have a strong bond, not to mention we were meant to be. It was true love. We were fated to be in love.

I breathed in and out.

Floods of kids came in, and I strained to see if Alfred was among them. I spotted Antonio and Gilbert make their way to the table, sitting across from me. I heard them say something, but I wasn't paying attention.

I glanced towards them for half a second. "Huh?" "We said, why are you here so early?" Antonio repeats. Gilbert is wasting no time and digs into his lunch as though he hasn't eaten in months. Disgusting.

"It just happened, I guess. Didn't need to get anything. It happens to everyone." Fake Arthur insists as I continue to look. What if he was lost? What if he got cornered?

"Oh, when I think about it, it has! Once, when I was on my way to English, nobody was in the classroom! So I assumed that we were in the media center – " Antonio was going off again, and Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Look what you did Arthur, you fucking idiot. Now he'll never stop." It was an empty complaint – none of us really minded his blabber.

Francis came in. Not who I was looking for. My heart ached.

Slowly, the number of kids dwindled. I ignored Francis's late response to our petty argument – which, frankly, I would do anyways – and stared hard. Feliciano, one of Antonio's friends, joined the table and instantly struck up conversation with Gilbert and Francis, buying me time.

Finally, Alfred hurried in behind a group of two boys. My heart thumped to life and flew again. Tingles flew down my spine and my face relaxed into a smile that must've looked rather strange to the table group.

"Arthur? Watcha' smiling at?" Feliciano tried to look in my direction, but didn't want to get out of his seat so his efforts were in vain. Fake Arthur quickly slid in to save my ass: "I was trying to remember something funny, and I finally did. You wouldn't believe how long that took, Feli."

Francis narrowed his eyes, unsure if he believed me or not, but didn't seem to care once I started talking to Feliciano. My eyes darted to Alfred, who was looking around. Was he looking for me? That would be wonderful if I was on his mind. His eyes finally rested on our table and I waved him over. Everybody at our table watched him as he walked over and claimed the free seat next to me. I felt my chest puff out with pride. I wanted to show Alfred off. After all, he was the boy I loved and who was going to be mine.

Alfred introduced himself, and everybody else did the same. We all instantly began talking to one another, although to be honest I only wanted Alfred to talk to me. I found myself angered when he clapped Gilbert on the shoulder like he did to me. Did he do that to everyone? I thought that was something special between us. I thought he had wanted to touch me.

Gilbert saw me glaring and laughed. "You're making that face again, Artie! The one where you furrow up your eyebrows." "Don't call me that." I hissed, but he must have taken it as an empty threat because he laughed again and Alfred laughed with him. I wanted to smack Alfred's hand off. How could he do this to me? How could he betray me like this?

"His eyebrows are kinda big, huh? No offense or anything, Arthur." Alfred said the last part quickly. I suppose it was cute that he assumed I'd be offended, but the eyebrow comment? Oh, Lord. "Don't you dare bring that up again. Do you know how many times people have said something about them? Too many."

I found myself feeling bad for talking fairly harshly, but I had to hide my affection for now. I had to wait until I got a sure sign that Alfred loved me as much as I love him. Until he stopped getting confused about his feelings. Alfred didn't seem offended anyways, and everyone laughed including him.

We continued to talk for forty five wonderful minutes. Wonderful, that is, if you crop out everybody else. I stared at Alfred with a lazy smile and wondered how this whole scenario would be different if we were alone and Alfred focused on only me. I imagined his cheeks flooding with color out of embarrassment of us being alone together. He would realize how fast his heart beat, and then he'd look me in the eyes and finally realize his feelings. He'd then gather his courage and tilt up my chin…

"Arthur, lunch period is over!" Someone lightly smacks me into reality, and I snap into focus. Unfortunately, it wasn't Alfred who touched my face, but Francis. Of course.

"You just couldn't help yourself, could you?" Fake Arthur puts on the usual boyish grin and smacks him back. Francis frowns and rubs his cheek dramatically. "So cruel! I was only trying to awaken you from your likely dirty fantasies."

Alfred isn't dirty. It's so annoying how he thinks he can say whatever he wants.

Once again, I swear that I could kill him.

Instead of doing just that, I glared murderously at him and turned to Alfred instead who was scarfing down the last bit of his lunch and grabbing his stuff. "We have photography now, right? Second to last lunch period sucks some serious balls. I thought I was going to starve!" He pouts before getting up, which is absolutely adorable.

We walked and talked together on our way to photography. Just us. Finally. I knew I was being a bit too possessive on the first day of what soon will be eternity, but I had to make sure he loved me as soon as possible. I already know I won't be able to stand not being able to see or touch him.

In the photography room, we receive what to me is a fairly easy task: Taking pictures of whatever we wanted and developing the photos. I had only taken photography because there weren't any computer related classes and it was something I found fairly enjoyable. I had always been good at taking long and close distance photos quietly, so pictures of animals like birds were easy.

I casually offered to stay by Alfred's side for the time being and teach him the basics, and was granted permission. Perfect. The more time we have with each other, the better. We decided to take pictures behind the school where most of the trees were. Luckily, nobody seemed to have the same idea, so we were alone. As we walked around quietly, almost shoulder to shoulder, I could barely contain my excitement and slight embarrassment.

"So you zoom in like this, right?" Alfred gestured to his camera and I swallowed my nerves before moving myself closer to see. "Right. You're a natural, Alfred." Fake Arthur praised, and Alfred turned to give me a prideful grin.

Time seemed to be slowing down – our faces were so close! I could feel his breath on my ear, and my heart started pounding. What should I do? Should I kiss him? Certainly, since we're meant to be, he wouldn't mind too much. Maybe he'd be shocked, but –

"Alright! Let's take some wicked photos!" Alfred shot up and crept behind a tree, targeting a squirrel that had just bounded into view. I couldn't believe it. Is he that dense, or could it be - ?

No. Alfred must love me. He's just confused.

I gave him a small wave as he got to work, and he gave me thumbs up. I turned on my camera to get working myself, but I couldn't stand not looking at him. I zoomed in on his face, taking in the detail, and took a picture of that instead. He had a few faded freckles on the bridge of his nose and cheeks. How cute was that? It was another thing for me to love.

My conscience was saying that I shouldn't be taking pictures of him without his permission, but I couldn't help myself. Around Alfred I do things I normally wouldn't – but this is fine, right? There's nothing wrong with keeping a few photos of him for myself.

For the rest of the period, I took pictures of him. I took one or two quality photos so Alfred didn't get scared or anyone found out. These pictures would be for my eyes only.

As we developed them, Alfred praised the two extra photos I had. He praised me! Warmth spread through me from head to toe for possibly the third time today. Luckily, he never noticed me develop the thirteen pictures I had of his beautiful body and face.

As I managed to tuck them in my school bag, I felt revitalized – something like the feeling of getting off a roller coaster you spent the whole time screaming on. There was something exciting about doing this kind of thing. And it was fine, because it wasn't weird or scary. I was in love. It was more than okay.

As the final bell of the day rang, my heart lurched for him. I secretly followed him to his locker so I knew where it was, and wrote the number into my history journal. 'Soon I might need a new one', I thought as I wrote his locker combination. I wouldn't go through his locker now, but I figured that I might need it in the future.

I decided then that my history journal would become my Alfred journal. I have another notebook that could hold my history notes, so there wasn't an issue.

Alfred walked home, it seems. As I watched him cross the street, my legs seemed to agree with my mind and I quickly followed him. Nobody would be waiting for me at home and Antonio could live without me. I could easily find my own way home. Alfred was more important.

Besides, we were meant to be. What was wrong with knowing where he lived?

A/N: Woo, chapter one is done! I've always wanted to write a fic in the point of view of a 'yandere' type character. I adore them. (If you don't know what that word means, just search it up!) This fic might be in Arthurs P.O.V the entire time, but I'm not too sure. I might want two or three in Alfred's. Author out!