WARNING: This chapter contains gore.

(I also added in a little surprise.)

Chapter Four

What's the quickest way to get rid of someone?

The minute I left the cafeteria the thought burrowed itself into my mind. Now, as I sit with my computer at home, I allow myself to think deeper into it.

Hurting someone has become an art; I doubt anyone has lived a life without wishing ill of someone. Humans have come up with and written so many interesting ways to make someone disappear. It's a big and bustling magic show and you get to pick the next act, and not a single one of them say 'don't try this at home'.

I know I shouldn't treat this as fun and games, for my actions are very serious and the result will be life altering, but it's all so interesting. My eyes drink in my search results, processing each and every horrible option.

After creating a list, I reviewed each method to narrow it down.

First was spreading horrible rumors about Francis so he leaves. The idea already sounds like it would take a long while to carry out, but I also realized that even if I did go through with it that nobody would believe me.

I'm not exactly popular like Alfred is becoming. Only a handful of people know me in the entire school since I don't really socialize with anyone except for Antonio and the lot. I suppose my soccer team would lend an ear, but I doubt they would care.

I don't particularly mind what anyone else thinks about me, so I wouldn't care if people assumed I was the type to say things about people. My real fear is that Alfred may learn that I was the source. He wouldn't trust me anymore. He might even become disgusted with me.

I'd rather die than have that. Rumors are out.

The next choice was already a dud. Nobody particularly dislikes Francis, so I can't expect anyone to bully him to the point of relocation. I could send hateful messages via email, but I'm worried about being traced since telling someone to kill themselves is like murder itself. I'm not skilled enough to avoid something like that.

The third and final one was to make his life hell. Steal his things. Wreck his room. Ransack his locker. But to be honest, it seems like too much trouble. Not to mention my chances of being caught are high if I'm not insanely careful. There are cameras in the school building after all. Not to mention teachers and thousands of other kids.

I guess I'll have to go with my main decision after all.

Yes, I already had an idea about what to do even before I searched for alternatives and made that list. I don't exactly love the idea, but on some level I figured it would come down to this.

Francis needs to suffer, feel the pain Alfred feels. I want him to feel it forever. Even if the words I or others could say burned into his mind for eternity and affected him for the rest of his life, it's not enough.

I want to kill him. I have to kill him.

Death is what he deserves.

So.

What's the quickest way to kill someone?

A gun, I suppose, but I don't have the slightest idea on how to get one. It's not as if I could just waltz into a firearm store and purchase one, especially not at my age. I don't even know how to properly use one.

I dislike guns anyways because they're too loud. That deafening bang would instantly attract concerned adults or patrolling policemen. I need something that would do the job quickly, efficiently, and silently.

A knife, then. Knives are quite easy to carry around since they're easy to hide. They're also easy for me to obtain considering I already have a select few in the kitchen.

I feel a smile tug at my lips. I find it funny how everyone has a murder weapon in their homes, yet the thought of using your meat knife to kill someone never even crosses your mind.

But enough with that.

Where should I stab? The answer to this is likely the most vital part of the process. I can't just stab like a madman and hope for the best. If that happens he might scream or struggle. I couldn't risk something like a fight or a chase.

I have to look this up.

After a handful of minutes, I reach behind my right ear with my hand and gently place a finger on the back of it - exactly behind my ear lobe. After some researching, I learned that this spot - the middle ear - leads to the brain, and that you could kill someone easily with a well angled jab through it. You could also stab the brain easily through the eyes and temples. Apparently the victim becomes unconscious before soon dying from an attack to the brain.

The eye would be the quickest and there would be very little blood to clean up. Not very pleasant to look at or do, but effective. It sounds like a murder method straight from a horror story – unusual, frightening, and dramatic.

Interesting.

Ah –

I suddenly find myself reflecting back on how I killed my parents.

It was disgustingly sloppy and there were plenty of ways for it to go wrong despite it being easy to carry out. I was a fool - an angry one that should've taken more precautions instead of acting on blind rage and impulse.

How did I manage to do it? I didn't bother to check if they had their phones on them or anything that would help them unlock the door. I was fortunate that my father was more brains over brawn - he couldn't break down the door, nor could my mother.

I succeed because they didn't think beyond their imaginary mental boundaries.

My mother and father were the types who enjoyed having everything done for them. An intern fetched their coffee and planned their meetings. A computer checked their spelling and grammar. So when I locked them in the basement they had no one but themselves, thus no way to figure out a solution. I had unknowingly found their weakness.

They were doomed and I - the killer - was lucky.

But luck was random and rare and a real murder shouldn't be reliant on it. This time, there can't be any mistakes. I can't hesitate. There will be no evidence left behind.

Yes, I was foolish then, but now I was prepared.

Now for my next question:

Do I dispose of Francis's body or not?

Perhaps I should just leave it where I did the job. My parents are still in the basement for all I know; I've never opened the door to check, and nobody has come after me if they escaped.

However, it once again feels so sloppy to leave a body behind. It's as though you're leaving a note asking for the police to find you.

I stretched back in my chair pondering this. Where could I hide a body? My parents had stunk something awful when they were in the basement so I'm not about to hide another one in my house. Besides, who knows what kind of bugs or animals were down there? That door could be closed forever for all I care.

I think disposing of him would be easier. Chopping him up so he would fit in a trash bag and have him taken to a landfill. Nobody would know it was me who put him in there. But what if the garbage men notice the smell or the strange shape of the 'items' in the bag and decided to look?

Perhaps I'm being a bit too paranoid, but paranoia can often be a good thing. It makes you think things over.

But honestly, what garbage man in his right mind would peek inside someone's trash? Also, the likelihood of him remembering whose trash it was is unlikely. So throw him away is just what I plan to do. He'll go missing and his body will never be found. It'll be as though he disappeared from the face of the earth.

Well, there we have it.

Now I just need to remember where Francis lives.

As I sit on the bus, my heart flutters with a combination of excitement and nerves.

The knife and garbage bag weigh next to nothing at the bottom of my backpack, and for a horrifying few seconds ago I thought I left them at home and I had to double check just to make sure.

I know what you're thinking. Already? Well, you see, I figured it would be best to carry out what I had planned while it was still fresh in my mind. But now, as I begin to seriously consider my decision, a seed of doubt starts to grow in the pit of my stomach.

I was visibly angry with Francis the other day. What if someone assumed Francis's disappearance was linked to my unusual burst of anger since it happened right after it?

No - It wouldn't do me any good to be this worried. If I react too strongly or show obvious discomfort before and after the deed is done, it'll be obvious that I'm hiding something.

I will do it, and I will succeed.

Alfred is depending on me.

Antonio returns from speaking with someone at the back of the bus to sit next to me, eyes glinting curiously when he sees the faint smile that had just formed on my lips. "You look pretty smug. What's up? Don't tell me you're going to get Francis back big time."

I try to hold back a laugh, but it comes out anyways. Oh, Antonio, if only you knew!

I quickly search for a way to respond so I don't look strange or suspicious and to stop him from spreading rumors.

"You always think I'm after him, don't you? We aren't always arguing, you know." Fake Arthur sighs after I finish laughing, shaking his head. "It's not good to hold a grudge," he adds solemnly. Antonio's eyes widen in mock surprise. "Who are you and what have you done with Arthur Kirkland?" We both laugh and begin to make small talk.

I decided that I would be a bit nicer than usual to Francis today even though he was so horrible to Alfred. I would still be sure not to be too nice and confuse some people with my strange behavior the day Francis goes missing. I had to be extremely careful and act as normal as possible. That was crucial to my plan.

The bus screeches to a halt and we're set free. I wave to Antonio before quickly weaving my way through the crowd of noisy students and toward the line of cars.

Alfred's mother drives him to school and he walks home. Alfred told me that his mother refused to drive him there and back because he was 'wasting a perfectly good opportunity to get exercise'. I, of course, had to pretend that I hadn't known he walked home and agree that his mother was 'absolutely crazy' and 'totally unfair'.

I linger nearby the line of cars where parents drop off their kids, casually looking around to make sure that nobody was paying attention to me. When I was certain that nobody was interested in what I was doing, I quickly dart behind a large tree. I didn't want anyone to see me waiting for Alfred. I was worried that somebody might assume I was too clingy.

If anybody did decide to observe me, they would've seen me check my watch. For me, the bus gets to school at about seven ten. Alfred is usually dropped off at around seven fifteen. I know this because I made sure to record the exact times he's been dropped off for a week and then average them. That way I could meet up with Alfred as soon as possible. I've waited for about four minutes now, so he should be here in no less than thirty seconds or more.

I rock on my heels impatiently until I recognize a blue convertible. My heart sings and jumps with delight. Alfred kisses his mother on the cheek - such a sweet boy - before hopping out of the car. I quickly jump back and blend into the crowd so he doesn't notice that I was watching. I figured it would embarrass him if he found out.

After a handful of seconds I call out to him, making my way to his side.

This has become my daily routine.

Alfred grins. "Hey! I know I've said this a thousand times before, but I swear your bus has perfect timing."

I grin back at him.

Lately, I've been feeling as though I'm beginning to slip away.

I don't talk to my classmates as much anymore unless needed and I don't raise my hand in class as often as I used too. My grades haven't wavered in the slightest and I still talk with Antonio and the lot so there hasn't been any concern shown by others. I just feel as though it's useless to go on doing things if Alfred isn't with me.

What was my motive to do things before? It's like I've forgotten who I used to be before I met him.

It's just like back then when I still had my parents. I know that they're gone and I remember the routines they've drilled into my head, but other than that I don't recall anything else about them. I've even forgotten their names. Do I have some sort of random adolescent memory loss?

Even if I did, I don't really care. As long as I remember Alfred, everything will be okay.

I smile secretively to myself as I stand outside the Photography room, waiting for Alfred to collect his things. I always go out of my way to stay with him; I don't even care if I'm late for the bus.

Not that I have to worry about the bus today anyways.

He finally walks out, but looks at me curiously for a few seconds and I find myself mildly embarrassed. Every part of me feels pleasantly warm, but it doesn't seem to show on my face because Alfred's expression hasn't wavered. I'm not sure if I'm relieved or not.

"Watcha smilin' about?" Alfred finally asks, adjusting his backpack so it rests comfortably on his shoulders. "Nothing - I was just thinking about something, don't worry about it." I start walking, hoping he won't inquire further, but Alfred continues to question me.

"You sure do that a lot - stare off into space. It makes me wonder what you think about." Fake Arthur laughs dismissively, but my heartbeat quickens when I realize he could only know this if he paid attention to me. "You sure are... observant, I guess. Either way, my thoughts are private." I make sure to say this gently without a hint of annoyance. I don't like denying Alfred what he wants, but in this case it's for his own good that he doesn't know about what's going to happen in a couple of hours.

The knife seems to weigh more than usual and I grip my backpack tighter to keep it from slipping.

Alfred opens his mouth, likely to complain in rebuttal, but he's interrupted by a familiar singsong voice calling out to us. It instantly sends a feeling of dread crawling up Fake Arthur's spine. Despite my plans to rid of Francis, it doesn't change the fact that they're rivals and that he gets on our last nerves.

"Hello, Alfred!" Francis rests his arm on Alfred's shoulder, like he owns him. I have to pinch my side to keep myself from showing any signs of the rage that boils inside of me. He then reaches over to pat my head as if I was a child without comment, just a teasing grin. I wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean. Was he trying to show Alfred that I was beneath than him? I decided not to react to it, even though I desperately wanted to move away. His touch seemed to be infecting me. My hands shivered with disgust.

"Francis." Fake Arthur greets him curtly, eyebrows raised. "What are you doing here? I thought I would be granted the pleasure of not seeing you for the rest of the day." Francis snorts as if amused then makes a show of wiping his hands on his pant leg once removing it from my head. "I have decided to bless you with my presence. It just so happens that my plans with a lovely lady have been canceled. I figured someone as lonely as you needed more company."

Like hell that was the truth. Francis knows that Alfred and I have the same seventh period. He probably came over here with the intention of disrupting us.

Little does he know that it will come back to bite him later. He's actually just made it easier for me to follow him home today, sparing me the trouble of tracking him down.

"I have Alfred, thank you very much." Alfred looks pleasantly surprised at my reply and strums his fingers on his legs, a sure sign that he's embarrassed. I want nothing more than to be enveloped in his arms and for him to admit that he too feels that way. Arthur, I don't need anybody else but you to be happy. I gaze at him longingly.

Francis looks mildly annoyed, like he swallowed something sour, but it disappears as quickly as it came. Good. I resist the urge to smile smugly knowing that I ruined his plans. Alfred, however, suddenly looks awkward due to the silence and nudges away from Francis, taking a few steps toward the direction of the exit. "Geez, look at the time! I outta get home. If I keep my mom waiting she'll scream at me 'till she's blue in the face. I'll see you guys later!"

"Goodbye, Alfred." I try to hide the disappointment in my voice, but I suppose this is for the best. I can't waste any time. I should get this done as soon as possible. "Au revoir," Francis says after a while, and we both stare at Alfred until he's out of sight.

Francis looks at me and seems to be mentally debating something. When it becomes clear that I don't plan to have any further conversation with him, he turns the other way. "I suppose I should be on my way too. What a waste of time! I go out of my way to see you and this is how you treat me!" He wails, dragging himself down the hallway. "Don't let the door hit you on the way out!" Fake Arthur calls after him, desperate to get the last word. Francis waves halfheartedly until he too is out of sight.

Jesus, it was about time.

I wait a few seconds, and then make it a few minutes before walking in Francis's direction. I feel giddy with excitement, and I find myself smiling. Is this what people describe as the 'thrill of the kill'? Perhaps, but it's really knowing that this is a vital step for my relationship with Alfred that makes me almost euphoric. This will definitely change everything – there's not a doubt in my mind.

I snort, and after making sure that nobody's around to hear me, laugh.

[ Francis Bonnefoy ]

It seems to have started raining while we all were inside.

I'm not too stressed about it, for my mother warned me of this beforehand. Unlike most, I was well equipped with an umbrella. I didn't believe what she had told me about the weather at the start. There hadn't been a cloud in the sky this morning.

I would have to thank her when I get home.

I raise the umbrella above my head and walk down the usual path.

I don't really like rain, but one tends to get used to things that happen all of the time, so it doesn't bother me that much.

However, I do know for a fact that Arthur likes the rain.

He seems to enjoy anything that I dislike and I seem to dislike everything that he enjoys. We are almost polar opposites of each other and we're known for arguing almost constantly, yet he's been my friend since middle school.

I still remember when I first met him. Everyone in the classroom was interested with and in me the day I transferred in from France. Everybody wanted to know everything about me. How did I learn how to speak English? What was France like? What was it like to switch countries? I already knew that I didn't have to worry about making new friends. I told them everything they wanted to know, and more.

Yes, everybody adored me the minute I came in.

Everybody except for Arthur, of course.

He just stared at me blankly. Emotionlessly. From that look alone I could tell that he wouldn't care if I fell from the face of the Earth and never returned. And yet, as if that side of him never existed, he pasted on a smile and got up to talk to me like everybody else.

He does that even now, switching between two personalities like that. One side that he keeps to himself, one that is dead to us, and the other side that he shows. Sometimes I wonder if that expression he showed me that day was his real self, and that the other side that we all know is a lie. A replacement.

Because of that, I don't think he really likes any of us.

Antonio, Gilbert, Feliciano. And me.

Especially me.

Now I get the feeling that he hates me, for ever since Alfred came around, he's seemed to care about me less and less. Maybe he never cared about me at all.

Maybe, if he was just any old friend, I wouldn't care about him either.

But I do.

Because it's just my luck that the only person I've ever really cared for is the person that couldn't give a damn about me.

I don't know when I started liking him in that way. I didn't even consider men as a romantic option until Arthur. Maybe I fell for him because he treats me differently from anyone else. Maybe it was because I feel as though he looks straight into my soul. Maybe it was because I knew something about him that nobody else did.

Who knows? Who cares? He likes Alfred, anyways. That much I know.

I wanted to make sure, so I've been flirting with Alfred to see how Arthur reacted. I got immediate results.

It was almost enough to make me hate Alfred. Jealousy will do that kind of thing to you, and today was the final straw. Arthur's glares screamed at me to back off from the very beginning.

I feel heart-broken, but I should've expected it from the start. At least I don't have to worry about it anymore.

I've accomplished nothing except for depressing myself.

Magnifique.

I turn down a shortcut in between an apartment building and a store with an almost empty parking lot. The rain thunders down relentlessly and I pity those who are unprotected.

"Hey."

I pause and my heart lurches when I hear the familiar voice. It feels so close, however, so I'm a bit startled. I take another step forward before I turn around to see –

Nothing.

It hurts, though.

Mon Dieu, it hurts.

I feel cold at first, but it doesn't last. Pain flows from my right eye and into the back of my head. The umbrella slips from my hand and I'm immediately soaked. Out of my quivering left eye I see blood, hot and red, spilling from in between my fingers and turning the rain water scarlet - or was the rain always that color?

Then I feel it again, but behind my ear. Once, twice, trois? What comes after three?

I feel as though every part of my head - inside and out - is on fire.

I can barely make out a cry or a choke – it all happens so fast and I instantly succumb to darkness.

I don't even have time to think about it. The weapon had dug through my eye without much effort and that was it.

I think I know who did it, though.

If I could, I think I would smile.

[ Arthur Kirkland ]

I did it.

I did it.

I did it.

I can't believe I did it. It's done, it's actually done, I actually did it - I can't believe I did it, I CAN'T! I can't but it felt so good it felt so fucking good.

So. Fucking. Good.

I chopped him all up and wrapped him all up and they sent him away, they drove him away. He can't do anything now. Nothing. Nothing.

But I want to see Alfred. I want to see him right now. I want to talk to him, I want to touch him, I want to breathe him in, I want to show him what I did, and I want him to be proud of me, I want him to love me -

But he does love me! Alfred loves me he really, really, really does love me because we're meant to be he's just confused. He's very confused. But now he won't be very confused. Because I did it. Am I confused? I don't know! I don't know, I don't know, but I'm happy. I'm so happy.

Alfred and I will be happy.

Forever.

And ever.

And ever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever -

A/N: ...

No need to tell me. I know. Believe me, I know. I stink. But I got it done! :'D

Did any of you guys guess that Francis was in love with Arthur? I tried to make a bunch of hints at it, but overall I wanted it to be a surprise.

I wanted you all to go "Ohh!" or something like that.

Also, don't worry, I don't plan to have Arthur go into deep thought about how he kills each and every person. Be gentle with him. It's his first time!

Er, second. I wanted to clear up the whole 'he killed his parents' thing. I didn't make sense to just leave it like 'Arthur is so strong and smart he killed his parents so easily, wow!' Everything needs a reason!

Anyways, a few people have requested I write a chapter in Alfred's point of view. I plan to do so, but not quite yet. He wouldn't have anything interesting to say right now, but he will soon, trust me. Let's just say he's not as perfect as Arthur thinks, and Arthur will find this out on his own.

No spoilers, though.

Author out!