Author's Note: Well, we can consider this story finished for the time being. I'm going to mark it as complete, but I do plan on adding a part where Alfred and Arthur meet up again. I can't leave it completely on a sad note.
"What? No, no, no, c'mon, Alfred, that can't be it!"
Alfred blinks over the rim of his coffee mug, taking in the urgent expressions of the people sitting around his table. Or two urgent, one curious, yet reserved. "What do you mean that can't be it? Arthur went to England and I haven't seen or spoken to him since. You knew that, Lizzie. There's nothing more to tell you."
Elizabeta shouts indignantly, drawing the eyes of the other patrons of the café they're frequenting. Tino appears saddened and Berwald looks impassive, as usual, but Alfred can tell the Alpha is concerned. They've all known each other for three years, have suffered through college and all it has to offer as a unit, as Elizabeta would say, but this is the first time Alfred's actually opened up about his past with them.
He's not sure why he decided to do it now, especially in the most non-private place on campus, but he figures it was about time he started trusting in his friends. Elizabeta told them all about her struggles growing up as a female Alpha in a household ruled by Alpha brothers, and Tino and Berwald are usually all too willing to talk about the things they had to go through to get to where they are now, happily mated and expecting a child in February. Alfred knows all about them, and Elizabeta aside, they don't know much about him, how he'd come to be there in Brooklyn after living in Kansas his whole life.
"I mean, what happened after?" Elizabeta demands, her cheeks red either from irritation over what happened in Alfred's childhood, or because she hasn't bothered to take off her coat, scarf, and gloves even though they've been in the café for well over an hour. "What did your parents do? What about Arthur's mom? Please tell me Scott got what was coming to him!"
"Maybe Alfred doesn't want to discuss it." Tino says, reaching up to scratch at the skin underneath the fabric of his scarf, though he doesn't try to take it off, knowing Berwald would pitch a fit. The Alpha was protective of his mate before, but ever since Tino announced the pregnancy, it's gotten a lot worse. Alfred can't help but smile whenever Berwald gets fussy, however. "He's told us plenty already."
"But – "
"No, it's fine." Alfred laughs. "I just didn't think you'd want to hear it. My angsty teenage years aren't especially entertaining."
"No, I think you're plenty entertaining." Elizabeta says, leaning heavily over the table as she stares at Alfred, a fiery shine present in her green eyes that reminds Alfred of Arthur. "I want all the details in case I decide to turn this into my first novel."
"Wouldn't that be against the law?" Berwald asks. "Not to mention a violation of privacy?"
"Not if Al gives me his consent!"
Alfred shakes his head. "No one ever found out about what happened between me and Arthur. Gossip usually spread like wildfire around town, but I guess my parents and Lucie tried their hardest to make sure nothing ever got out. To everyone else, I guess it must have looked like our families just stopped communicating once Arthur, Peter, and Alasdair left for Finchley. I think Alasdair only went just to keep an eye on Arthur for Lucie, actually.
"Anyway, my parents tried to get me to go to confession after mass that day, but I refused. I wasn't ashamed of what had happened, and since Arthur wasn't around to defend us, I decided it was up to me. I think they just gave up on me after that. They took the lock off my door and if I had friends over we weren't allowed to go up to my room. I kind of stopped caring about everything again. I just stayed in my room and didn't really talk to anybody."
"You can't even sit still for an entire lecture." Tino says worriedly. Nowadays, Alfred is pretty loud and energetic while in public, just as he was back in his childhood. Tino and Berwald haven't seen how he is on a bad day, so it must be hard for them to imagine a subdued Alfred that never left his room unless it was to eat or go to the bathroom. Elizabeta, on the other hand, has seen plenty. "Didn't you get bored?"
"Nah. My parents sort of bought me whatever I wanted just to keep me out of their hair. They bought me a TV for my room and a whole bunch of art stuff, so I never really needed to leave the house unless it was for school or work. Believe it or not, I was quite the rebel after Arthur left."
"You? A rebel?" Elizabeta snorts, though a waiter walking past her chair momentarily distracts her. He's tall and blond with clear skin and green eyes, and by the smell of him, he's an Alpha, so Alfred assumes Elizabeta's filed him as "Worth Pursuing." She's not particular about potential mate candidates, though Alfred knows she prefers Alpha's like herself, someone who can keep up with her intellect or something like that. "I find that hard to believe coming from the man who spends most of his time alone with his cat."
Getting a pet had never been part of his plan, but when Alfred saw a kitten in a window at the pet shop on his way home from work one day, he hadn't been able to walk away without her. Sally's a Scottish Fold with green eyes and white fur, though her tail and about half of her face are a light brown. She's pretty crotchety, but Alfred's never had any trouble getting her to snuggle with him. She doesn't much care for Elizabeta or Tino – Alfred can't figure out why, since Elizabeta is really freaking loud at all times whereas Tino is soft-spoken unless he's drunk, so he can't see what makes them similar in Sally's eyes – but she is fond of Berwald.
Alfred is certain they bond over the fact that they both think the entire world is filled with morons. Or at least Alfred gets the impression that Sally thinks so when she watches him from her perch on the dresser without blinking as he dances around his apartment whenever the mood hits him.
"At least Sally lets me tell stories without interrupting me every five seconds." Alfred retorts, and when she sticks her tongue out at him, he narrows his eyes and does the same. Really, they're both twenty-one going on eleven. "And by being a rebel, I mean contradicting everything my parents said and refusing to do what they wanted me to. I think they were all too willing to pay for me to come to school here once I mentioned it."
Alfred always says that he dislikes his parents, but that's not actually true. In fact, he loves his parents and misses them more than he can possibly say, but he's come to terms with the fact that they're not as close as they once were and probably never will be again. Alfred calls home sometimes, and while his mom always answers and sounds happy to hear from him, their conversations are short and simple. They hold no meaning. She always makes excuses as to why his dad can't come to the phone, like "He's at the office" or "Oh, he's taking a nap," but Alfred knows. He just smiles – though she can't see it – and says he'll talk to him next time without ever planning to actually do so.
He knows his parents still love him, too, but they never did get over the fact that he's bi-sexual, and Alfred doesn't think they ever will. They send him rent for his apartment although at this point Alfred can afford to do it himself. It's kind of funny, actually. They don't necessarily like him, but they still take care of him.
His mom will sometimes ask if he's found a mate in the time he's been gone, to which he replies, "I have a boyfriend," and the subject is dropped. They may not be in contact anymore, but Alfred still considers him and Arthur to be in a relationship, and he'll continue to do so until someone – mainly Arthur – tells him otherwise.
It's a lonely existence, but he's used to it by now. Nearly eight years of suffering through his heats by himself and Alfred's stopped dreading them, though they're far from pleasant. He sometimes envies Tino, who has the life Alfred's always fantasized about but was told he couldn't have, but he's so overcome by happiness for him and Berwald that it's easy to ignore.
They certainly weren't free of troubles, though their parents don't think their relationship is abnormal like Alfred's did with his own. No, their problem was society, people like Gilbert Beilschmidt. Alfred has to stay on his toes when he's in public alone with Tino now that his baby bump is more noticeable. Male Omegas aren't as uncommon in Brooklyn as they were in Allen, though there are some people who look at Tino with disgust. Tino is none the wiser, too excited about the fact that he's having Berwald's kid to care what other people think, though he allows Alfred to act like a mother hen.
"I remember when you first got here." Elizabeta says, smiling at the memory. "You were this small-town boy completely blown away by the 'big city'. You were so cute!"
"What's with all this 'were' business, Lizzie?"
"I recall a certain someone thinking Alfred was lying about being from Kansas since he didn't have much of an accent." Berwald comments, smirking into his hot chocolate when Tino smacks his shoulder. "And asked him if he'd lived on a farm and raised horses."
"Excuse me for thinking Kansas was part of the South! I don't spend all my time looking at a map."
"It's actually the Midwest." Alfred offers, though the two are beyond hearing.
When it came time for him and Matthew to pick colleges, Alfred hadn't been sure what to do with his life, but he was certain that he wanted to get away from his parents. Since all he really did after Arthur left was focus on school and paint, he received the highest ACT score possible, so the options were endless, and when he'd been leafing through a book of schools in the guidance counselor's office at school one day, he picked the first one that caught his eye and sounded appealing.
"Brooklyn College?" Mattie had said when he read the paper Alfred had written all the information down on. "What made you pick this one? It's all the way in New York!"
"It's far away."
"… Is that really what made you decide, Al?"
"It has an art program."
"Closer schools do, too!"
"But this one's far away."
His parents had been more receptive to the idea than Matthew and didn't cause a fuss when Alfred applied without consulting them first. He received an acceptance later nearly a month later, though he left it open on the table for his parents to see instead of telling them himself.
His dad took care of everything, though he and Alfred didn't communicate much during the period after graduation and before he left for college. Alfred spent most of his time with his friends, who were sad he was going but knew better than to try and deter him. Though Feliciano, Lovino, Lilli, Antonio, and Ludwig hadn't known what had happened between his family and Arthur's, they knew Alfred hadn't been the same since the other Omega left, and they were supportive of his decision to go to school out of state.
Matthew had insisted on accompanying Alfred out to New York. He'd hovered over Alfred throughout their junior and senior years of high school and hadn't been able to break out of the habit by the time Alfred was supposed to leave, though the Omega hadn't cared. He was actually a bit apprehensive about moving from one life to another with no time to detox, and with his twin at his side, it didn't seem as daunting. He had his own apartment – his parents hadn't been comfortable with him sharing a dorm with someone, not just because of his sexuality but also his nature as an Omega – but Alfred hadn't complained. He'd come to appreciate his privacy ever since Arthur left.
It was only because of Matthew that Alfred had even met Elizabeta Héderváry. She'd seen them wandering around campus one day and had approached simply because she could tell Matthew was an Alpha and found him attractive enough. Alfred was content to let his brother blush and squirm over the woman's advances before enough was enough and he took hold of his brother's wrist, showing off the promise ring that marked him as taken.
Elizabeta had been able to laugh the whole thing off, and the trio spent the entire day together. She and Alfred had hit it off almost instantly, and having made a new friend, Alfred wasn't nearly as anxious as he thought he would be when Matthew finally left to go back home. Elizabeta had introduced him to Berwald and Tino a few days later and the four of them had been nearly inseparable ever since.
"I'm sorry, Al." Tino says while Berwald and Elizabeta continue to bicker amongst themselves. The Omega looks sad, his fingers twitching around his Styrofoam cup of water. "No one deserves that. Least of all you."
Alfred shrugs, momentarily distracted by the snowflakes falling outside. He can't remember the last time he found the will to play around in the snow. Not since he and Matthew were kids, when Feliciano would always try to make their snowmen more detailed than necessary. "I don't know. Everything happens for a reason, I guess."
"What was Arthur like?" Tino asks, and Alfred has to fight back a massive grin. Leave it to Tino to sense when something isn't right and try to change the topic to something happier. "You must love him for a reason."
"Sometimes I wondered." Alfred chuckles, aware that while the other two are still bickering, he has Elizabeta's attention. "Artie was… I don't know, he was everything. He was smart and kind; headstrong, which surprised a lot of people, since he's an Omega. Family meant more to him than anything. You know, I can't name off individual things I loved about him, because every little thing was just part of the whole that was Arthur. Everything he did made my head spin. I thought of him as a brother for a long time. He was just family, my best friend, until he had his first heat and started acting weird around me."
"Weird how?" Elizabeta pipes up.
"Like he knew something I didn't." Alfred explains, remembering how Arthur would watch him without speaking as Alfred played with Peter on the floor after school. "I was suddenly something to handle with care. He was figuring out what we were to each other, and I had absolutely no idea."
They're all quiet for a few moments. Alfred knows they pity him, but at least they're not being all that open about it. He doesn't like to let on that he's anything less than fine, and he understands that from this point on, his friends are going to worry about him. He won't show up for a lunch date or something and they'll wonder. But he can handle it. At least now he doesn't have to hide. "When you and Arthur fought," Elizabeta says, tossing her head slightly to get her bangs out of her eyes, "you said that you knew something was bothering you, something other than being an Omega or Catholic or bi that bothered you. Did you ever figure out what it was?"
Alfred smiles ruefully. "Nope. I'm just as clueless as I was then."
For some reason, this marks the end of the discussion. Maybe it's because they can see how tired he is. Alfred's not sure. "We should get going." Berwald says, glancing over at Tino, who nods. "Tino has a doctor's appointment at twelve-thirty."
"You guys gonna find out what the sex is today?" Alfred asks as they all start to gather their things. "Or do you still want to wait until February when it comes?"
"I'm dying of anticipation at this point." Tino says, waving Berwald away as the Alpha makes a move to help him up. "Slow your roller, papa, I can get up on my own."
"Drive carefully." Elizabeta says once they're all outside. She's standing close to Alfred, pressed up against his right side, though she's not shivering. "If something happens to my darling godchild, I'm holding you personally responsible, Berwald."
Tino laughs at the dark expression on Berwald's face before leaning up to place a kiss on his cheek. Alfred watches quietly. He'll never get used to that. "There's no need to worry. He takes good care of us. See you guys later!"
Alfred and Elizabeta wave and don't lower their hands until the two are out of sight, and Alfred is anxious to get home. He can't help but think about the things that have happened from time to time, but he's only sat down and told the entire story from the beginning twice, and the first time had been nearly two years ago. He's exhausted and jumpy, and taking a nap with Sally curled up against his back sounds pretty appealing.
"Why did you pretend like you didn't know any of that?" Alfred says as Elizabeta pulls her white knitted beanie over her head, tucking the hems snugly around her ears. "I've told you the story before."
"Yeah, but Tino and Berwald didn't know that." She says. "I didn't want them to think you trusted me more than you did them."
Alfred supposes he can understand her reasoning. He hadn't actually planned to tell the Alpha about his past when she confronted him about it two years ago. She'd come over to his apartment right after a pretty draining phone conversation with his mom and wouldn't leave Alfred be until he told her why he was so distraught. After all the years of hiding, he'd been afraid Elizabeta would hate him for falling in love with another Omega, a male Omega, but she hadn't cared. Neither had Berwald or Tino, of course, when he eventually told them he was bi.
With their help, Alfred wasn't afraid of anyone finding out about his sexuality anymore. He wouldn't say it outright but definitely didn't try to hide it and was frank with anyone who asked – no one really did – and he was happy. Tired, but happy.
"It never gets any easier."
Alfred frowns. "What's that?"
"Listening to you talk about what happened." Elizabeta sighs, looping her arm through Alfred's as she starts to lead them from the café. "I kinda just want to go to your house and yell at your parents until I'm blue in the face."
"You and me both. But it's in the past. Can't do anything about it now."
"Still!" Elizabeta whines, tugging on Alfred's arm, and the Omega can't help but laugh. To any passersby, they would look like a couple. It's not uncommon for people to ask if they're mated while they're out together, to which Elizabeta will list off a dozen different reasons why she would never ever ever mate with him, and while the feeling is mutual, Alfred has to fight down a furious blush.
It's hard, being best friends with an Alpha that isn't related to him. Berwald's already mated and doesn't even look at an Omega in that way unless it's Tino, so he's not much of an issue like Elizabeta is. They both have to stay on their toes in moments of weakness, like if either of them is drunk and doesn't have the best judgment, because it could end badly. Alfred's only had three heat cycles since he met her, and he's made a point to tell her beforehand after she walked into his apartment while he was incapacitated during that first year of college.
Alfred remembers tensing up in fear when his bedroom door opened and the scent of a mature Alpha hit him, watching as Elizabeta moved further into the room only to crouch down beside his bed. He held his breath, clutching tightly at his bed sheets as Elizabeta regarded him with intense green eyes, so similar to Arthur's that Alfred had to bury his face in a pillow to hide his tears. He felt a hand in his hair and a voice saying, "You'll be okay," and when he finally lifted his head, the Alpha was gone.
Arthur used to complain that he had to lock himself away so an Alpha didn't smell his heat scent and take advantage of him while under the influence of his pheromones. Alfred wonders what he would think if he met Elizabeta, an Alpha who was in complete control around Omegas and didn't allow herself a moment of weakness. Alfred doesn't know how she does it or why she came into his room that day. Maybe she'd been trying to say without words that he didn't have to worry about her taking advantage of him.
They don't talk about it. They don't really need to, after all.
"How come you and Arthur haven't talked? It's been five years, right?"
"Yeah." Alfred sighs, because five years is too long a time. "I don't know where he lives and there's no one to tell me. He's in the same position. Mattie promised me he would say something to Artie if he ever came back home, but so far there's no sign of him. When he went to England it was almost like all traces of him vanished completely. No one but me and our friends from school who didn't know what happened would talk about him."
"You really love him." Elizabeta says, and while she's known about Arthur for a few years now, she still sounds as if this is news to her. "After all these years, you're still waiting."
Elizabeta releases her hold on his arm when they reach their cars, though Alfred snags her wrist. "I worry that he doesn't love me anymore, after all that happened." He says, because who else can he tell? Alfred can't burden Matthew more than he already has, and Elizabeta lives for this stuff. She loves helping other people. "I'll feel like an ass if I've been the only one waiting all this time."
"He'd have to be an idiot to let go of you." Elizabeta says. "Or have a death wish. But I doubt he's stopped loving you. He fought so hard to get you to accept yourself, right? That's a lot of work to put into someone you're just gonna dump."
"Gee, thanks."
Elizabeta smiles as Alfred lets go of her wrist, reaching over the push the Omega's shoulder. "Anyway, don't sweat it. Just focus on that teaching degree and everything will work out, you'll see. I'll come by tomorrow morning so we can go get some stuff for Tino's baby shower. See ya, Al!"
Alfred says goodbye and then climbs into his car. Now that Elizabeta isn't at his side, he can't help but think about all he told Berwald and Tino at the café. He remembers mostly every detail of his life after meeting Arthur. He remembers growing up with him, laughing and crying with him, and falling in love with him. And while those memories aren't something Alfred would give up for anything, nowadays they mostly serve as a reminder that the confident, exuberant child he once was is gone, and it's likely that he'll never feel that way again.
Alfred turns on the engine and checks his mirrors before pulling out of the parking lot, driving through the snow-dusted streets as carefully as he can.
When Alfred gets home, Sally is draped over the back of the couch, and she watches him without moving as he closes the door and removes his coat. "Today's been a weird day." He says, and her ears twitch.
He toes off his sneakers and walks around the side of the couch, falling back onto the off-white cushions with a sigh. He's starting to wonder why he even decided to tell Berwald and Tino about his childhood. The Omega feels shaky and tired, hollow, like he always did after a fight with his dad.
Alfred saw a new side of his father after Arthur left, a side that terrified him. His dad had always been a quiet, pleasant man that never had anything negative to say about anybody. His wife ruled the household, and he was perfectly content to let her do so. But after everything that happened, his dad was almost an oppressive figure in the house. If he did talk, it was never about anything pleasant, and he scrutinized everything Alfred said and did.
As an adolescent Omega, it had been a fairly terrifying experience, living in the same house with an Alpha that smelled constantly of barely suppressed rage. Alfred had been able to hide it well enough and refused to back down during their fights, though Matthew always had to sit with him afterwards until Alfred had calmed down enough to function.
Alfred tips his head over the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling through half-lidded eyes, wondering, not for the first time, why everything had to go so terribly wrong.
He wakes up a few hours later to the sound of someone knocking on his door. Sally has migrated to his lap and is curled up on one of his thighs, though she lifts her head when Alfred shifts with a groan, reaching up to rub at his neck. That's the last time he's falling asleep anywhere aside from his bed. "Hold on!" Alfred calls groggily, lifting Sally with one hand and shifting so he can easily hop over the back of the couch. The feline in his grip remains limp and pliant. At this point, she's probably used to being handled haphazardly.
Alfred's trying to stifle a yawn as he unlocks and opens his door, though when he sees who's standing in the hall, he's pretty sure he's still asleep and is just dreaming.
It really has been too long. He's definitely gotten taller, or maybe she shrunk, Alfred's not sure, and aside from the fact that her hair is now stalk straight, no longer curly, she looks the same. Only happier. He supposes leaving Allen behind was the best decision any of them could have made.
"Alfred Foster Jones." Annie says, eyes watering dangerously as she gives him a once over, and her accent startles him, he hasn't heard it in so long. "You've certainly grown up."
"A – Annie?" Alfred stutters, standing frozen in his doorway although he knows he should move to let her in. The last time he saw her, she was driving away in her future husband's car, trying not to cry as Arthur stood tall and silent beside him. She's wearing jeans, boots, and an off-white sweater, her winter coat draped over one arm, and Alfred's not sure if there is such a thing, but she does have the "mom" look. "What are you – How did you – "
"Mattie told me where you lived. I figured it was high time for a reunion." Annie says, smiling sadly as she meets Alfred's gaze once again. "I drove all the way out here, you know. Aren't you going to let me in?"
"Oh, yeah, sure!" Annie smiles and steps forward as Alfred moves out of the way, and the Omega closes the door once Annie is completely inside. He's not sure what to make of all of this, is still half-asleep and a bit disoriented, but he can't deny that he's overjoyed to see Annie again after such a long time.
He allows Annie to make herself comfortable while he bends over to set Sally on the floor, though the Scottish Fold stays close. Annie watches him, takes in every subtle movement Alfred makes, and by the time Alfred sits on the couch again, angling his body so he faces Annie, he feels nervous. "You look like you're going to be ill." She muses, unwrapping her scarf from around her neck. "You don't have to worry, Al. It's just me."
"Sorry. It's just… your hair isn't curly."
The British woman smirks, and Alfred feels like crying. He doesn't know what to do or say. This is the first time he's spoken to a Kirkland in five years. More memories are starting to pile up, ones he didn't share with Berwald and Tino, things he can't bear to think about, even now. "I know, it took me a while to get used to it. David as well. The girls used to tug on my curls when they were babies. Apparently straight hair isn't nearly as interesting."
Alfred knows David is the name of Annie's mate, and the baby she had with him turned out to be a female Beta that they named Marie. Mattie told him as much, said she was adorable and looked just like Annie, but Alfred's never seen her before. "You had another kid?"
Annie nods. "Another girl. She's an Alpha like David. We named her Avery. She's about three now, and Marie is six. Marie has the Kirkland eyebrows, though they don't make her look mean. Avery thinks they're caterpillars."
Alfred snorts, raising a hand to his face to muffle the sound, and he accidentally elbows Sally, who yowls unhappily. "Is this Sally?" Annie asks as Alfred scoops the cat up, more relieved than he's ever been that he had her declawed. It's bad enough that she hasn't been spayed.
"In the fur." Alfred says, rubbing behind the feline's folded ears. "She was the runt of her litter. I saw her in a pet shop about two years ago. All her brothers and sisters were playing together and she was just sitting there in a corner. I don't know… I think I related to her in a way. I couldn't go home without her."
Annie looks perturbed, but she's still smiling, perhaps trying to stay strong for both their sakes. "I'm sure you take great care of her. Now, tell me, what's going on in your life?"
"There isn't much to tell you, really. Umm… I'm studying to be an art teacher."
"Is that so? Matthew did say you were studying art, but he didn't say anything about a teaching degree. Somehow that seems fitting. Do you want to teach younger kids?"
Alfred shakes his head. "No, I was thinking more on a high school level. I think teenagers are more in need of outlets for whatever stresses they may be going through. I sure did, and my art teacher was really helpful. I know some kids won't be as receptive as others, but at least I can help those that do."
"I remember when I wanted to be a teacher. As it turns out, that wasn't in God's plan for me." Annie says, though she doesn't sound bitter. Alfred feels like a teenager again at the mention of His name, sitting in a circle with Arthur, Scott, Alasdair, Annie, and Matthew in the Jones' living room for Saturday night Bible study. "Even if it didn't happen in the way I wanted it to, I love being a mum. My girls mean everything to me. David spoils them rotten. Marie's a bit of a brat."
"I guess a lot of things didn't play out the way we thought they would." Alfred says. "I'm glad you're happy, Annie. I worried about you."
"And I you." She replies, and Alfred feels as if this is when he figures out why she came all this way just to see him. "I still worry about you. How are you, Al, really?"
"I'm… better." Alfred says, because there's no other way to describe himself. "Not the same, but better. I guess you've been in contact with Matthew all this time. Did he tell you how things used to be?"
Annie nods, reaching up to tuck a strand of bright red hair behind her ear. "Yes, and I'll always regret not being there to help you. But in a way, I'm also glad I had no other choice but to stay away. Matthew… he told me about what happened that made you decide you wanted to attend school so far away from home."
Alfred sighs, shifting restlessly in his seat. Sally is purring in his lap, and it helps to keep him grounded, reminds him that he's not in Allen anymore and he doesn't have to go back if he doesn't want to. "He remembers what happened that night better than I do."
"Is that where your scar came from?"
The skin where Alfred knows his scar to be seems to burn when Annie brings it up. It's barely noticeable since he left Kansas, where his skin was so sun-kissed that the blemish stood out starkly after it healed and the scab went away. He doesn't go out much anymore, so his skin is paler and the scar is easily hidden. Now it's just a small pink line below Alfred's right eye. Only Elizabeta knows how it got there. "His high school ring sliced open the skin when he punched me. I think he knocked me out, 'cause I was in my bed when I woke up, and Mattie had a bag of ice pressed to my face."
"I remember when your dad used to take us all out for ice cream after school. He never seemed like the violent sort."
"He's not. I didn't go to mass with them on Christmas Eve that year. I went to that barn and leafed through all of my old sketchbooks, looking for pictures I'd drawn of Arthur. They all came home and he asked where I'd been and I told him it was none of his business. I should've just kept my mouth shut."
"That's no excuse."
"No, it isn't." Alfred says, and Annie is starting to turn red when he looks up, her fists clenched so tightly in her lap that they're shaking. "Honestly, I'm just glad it only happened once. But he's apologized, and I've forgiven him. It was a long time ago."
Annie groans, pressing a hand to her face and shaking her head slowly. "This whole thing is a right mess."
"You're telling me." Alfred says, and Sally looks up at him. Her green eyes bore into his, the color a shade nearly identical to Arthur's, and Alfred clears his throat, gaining Annie's attention. "Have you – How's Arthur?"
Annie sighs, and Alfred stiffens. "Arthur is Arthur; thinks he knows everything, temperamental and cynical, just as he's always been. It costs a pretty penny to speak to him over the phone, so we write back and forth and have been for a few years now. My little brother."
She cuts herself off, and Alfred can see that she's choking up, her eyes starting to water again. Alfred feels distraught himself, because it's never occurred to him before that Arthur has been anything less than okay over the years. He hadn't been able to entertain the idea, for if Arthur wasn't handling the separation well, how could Alfred? "Annie, what is it? Is he okay?"
"He went into journalism." She manages to say after a minute or so of heavy silence. Alfred's not sure what Arthur's occupation has to do with anything. "He has a knack for putting his thoughts into words that can move a person to tears. The letters he's written… they worry me. He's different, somehow. I can't figure out why I feel that way. Alasdair can't or won't say anything, and Peter still sees Arthur as this big hero who can do no wrong, so he's no help.
"I remember when we were growing up in England, Arthur used to smile and laugh all the time. He had a vivid imagination, and he used to believe in fairies and such when he was a child. After our father died, Arthur changed. He and Dad were closer than anyone in the family, and he always encouraged Arthur to be himself no matter what anyone said. When he died, Arthur was a mess. He stopped smiling, stopped laughing, and didn't talk to his imaginary friends ever again. He was more grown up than any of us kids, even more than me, and he didn't say much when we made the move to America, though I knew he didn't want to leave Nottingham any more than I did."
Alfred leans over to grab a box of tissues from his coffee table when Annie's voice starts to tremble, and she takes it when he passes it to her, giving him a grateful smile. "When we came to Allen, Arthur wasn't happy. He was barely eleven then and he'd already had to grow up so much, and I feared he would never return to normal. But then we met you and your family. It was always 'Alfred this' and 'Alfred that' with him. He loved you so much, even then. He was starting to act normal again, and it was all because of you."
Annie pauses briefly to blow her nose, and Sally's fur stands on end for a moment. "I think… no, I know that now that you two are separated, he's gone back to how he was after our father died, and I'm terrified he's going to turn into the person he probably would have been all along had he never met you."
"What kind of person?" Alfred asks quietly, though he has an idea. He'd seen glimpses of a different Arthur over their years together, one who was angry and bitter and tired. He'd seen that person during their fight when Arthur advanced on him with rage in his eyes. It was the only time Alfred had ever been afraid of him.
"I hesitate to use the term delinquent, though I suppose it's appropriate. Arthur is quite the drunk nowadays. Not as bad as our grandfather or even Alasdair, but Arthur would never turn down a bottle of ale if it was offered."
"Have you seen him in person since he left?"
"I visited with David and the girls a few times. Arthur has his own flat in Finchley. Peter stays with him sometimes, but Arthur won't let him live there since he drinks so often. He isn't much of an angry drunk, thank God. Just very emotional. He misses you."
"I miss him, too." Alfred says. "More than I can say. These past five years have been so hard without him."
Annie sniffs, furrows her brow, and then sniffs again. Alfred watches her, confused and a little alarmed when her face goes blank. "It smells like an Alpha in here. Have you – Do you – "
Alfred can't help it. He bursts out laughing, starting both Annie and Sally, and it's a solid minute before he manages to regain at least some of his composure. "No, it's not what you think." He says, struggling to get the words out. "I have this friend. Her name is Elizabeta. She's an Alpha, and she's the only one of my current friends that knows pretty much everything about my past. She's over here a lot, but she and I are just friends, I promise."
"Oh." Annie says, laughing a bit herself. "That makes more sense. I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions. It's just that you're twenty-one now, Al. That's a long time to go unmated."
"Some people go their whole lives without a mate." Alfred points out. "I'm not gonna give up on Artie just because there's an ocean between us. I'll wait as long as it takes."
Annie finished wiping away the last of her tears, grinning so much that her dimples are more apparent than they've ever been before. She stands abruptly and moves over to Alfred, sitting down beside him, and Alfred has to stifle a yelp when the Beta yanks him roughly into her arms. "Arthur must have saved a lot of puppies in his previous life to deserve a boyfriend as loyal as you are. I hate to admit this, but even I was worried on the drive up here that I would arrive to find you up to your knees in dirty diapers and baby formula."
"Didn't Mattie tell you I'm still unmated?"
"He doesn't discuss your relationships much. Just the basics, like what you're studying or just how you're fairing in general. I didn't even know your address until I told him I was planning to come see you."
"Why did you come up here? Not that I don't appreciate it, because I do, but… that's like a twenty hour drive if you don't stop along the way!"
Annie doesn't say anything for a moment, though her grip on Alfred tightens, and the Omega is content to stay in her embrace for now. Annie was like the sister he never had growing up, and while there's no way they're as close as they once were, Alfred hopes they can remedy that. "You're about to go into heat, yes?"
Alfred frowns, thinking back to last year and the year before that, counting the weeks. "Yeah, I should be. Why?"
"There is a reason I came, aside from just wanting to see you." Annie says, finally pulling away. She twists around and reaches back to her previous spot for her purse, pulling it closer and rooting around until she grabs onto a crisp, white envelope. She stares at it for a moment before turning back to Alfred, offering it to him with a slight sigh. Alfred stares at it. His name is written on the front, nothing else. "I don't know what it says, but it came along with a letter Arthur wrote me, and he told me to give it to you personally. Maybe it'll help with your oncoming heat."
"O – Okay." Alfred says, taking the envelope. He refuses to look at it again, setting it on the coffee table, because he thinks he knows what it is.
"I'll be in town for a few days." Annie says. "I think there's a lot of catching up we need to do. I know you don't want to face whatever is in that envelope, but I think it'll help, if I know my brother. I'm staying in a hotel nearby. I'll give you my number if you want to call me."
"I do." Alfred says. "We need to talk, Ann. I've been isolated out here for way too long."
"I know." Annie replies, patting his cheek with a warm smile, and Alfred can tell that Annie is a good mother to her daughters, one that they'll appreciate when they're older. "I love you, Al. I'll see you later."
Alfred sees her off with a smile, but once she's gone, he becomes a slave to that stupid letter she gave him. Nearly half an hour goes by and Alfred is still staring at the letter she gave him, memories swirling in his head about times long past that he thought he'd come to terms with. He'd recognize that handwriting anywhere, and just looking at the letters of his name in that familiar format makes his eyes wet.
Sally is weaving around his legs, mewing anxiously in that way she does whenever Alfred is upset, but she doesn't try to jump up on the couch. Normally he would bend over and pick her up, stroke her ears and reassure her that everything is fine, but it's not fine.
Alfred's terrified to open the envelope, isn't sure he wants to see whatever is inside. It's crossed his mind over the past five years, more than a few times in fact, that maybe Arthur moved on, maybe he's not thinking about those days in Allen when he and Alfred would steal away together when their mothers weren't looking. Maybe he found someone to help him through his heats in the way Alfred never got the chance to, and Annie just didn't say anything. If that's the case, then Annie is a cruel person, just like Scott.
Alfred frowns as he starts to reach for the letter on his table. He's not the same person he once was, the frightened Omega of sixteen that lived a life of oppression underneath his parents' roof. He's twenty-one now, he's going to be an art teacher, and he refuses to run away from this.
Besides, he thinks as he opens the letter with twitching fingers, he has to have a little faith in Arthur, like Arthur had in him all those years ago.
Dear Alfred,
There are a lot of things that need to be said between us, but I know you, Al, and I know you wouldn't appreciate it if I addressed everything in a measly letter. I will say that I miss you dearly, and five years is much too long a time to go without speaking to or seeing one another. I wonder if you can tell by my penmanship that my hand is shaking. I really can't help it. I've written many letters to you over the years, though this is the first I actually plan to have delivered.
That being said, Annie, if you are reading this before you deliver it to Alfred, do not think I won't go back to calling your daughter "Marie Antoinette;" she will be none the wiser, and you can do nothing to stop me.
Alfred, do you remember that night when I sneaked over to your house, and you told me that you didn't believe in a Heaven or a Hell, that you thought we experienced the supreme joy and sorrow of both here on earth? You were rather ill that night, so I wouldn't be surprised to hear that you actually don't recall saying any of that. I often wonder if maybe your fever-induced ramblings were more than just that, if perhaps I fell into the trap set up by our parents and you knew the truth about the world all along.
Granted, I do spend most of my time drunk, so I think about a lot of odd things. Even now, I have just returned from the pub with Alasdair, so I do apologize if everything I say ends up not making a lick of sense. I'm hoping I'll be able to tell you what I'm really feeling without as much trouble this way. We'll see what happens.
Do you still think that, Al? About Heaven and Hell, I mean. I must confess that I don't know much about you anymore. After all, five years is a long time. If you don't mind my saying so, I think you were wrong, if you do remember and do still think that. In my opinion, this miserable world we live in is meant to foreshadow. As you said, we experience the clouds and fires both here, and I think those things we live through are meant to help us make a decision: if we want to live like devils and go to Hell as a result, or devote ourselves to God and go to Heaven; if we want to live forever in those moments of despair, or forget all about them and move on.
Yes, I'm still a "stickler for God", as you used to put it. And I am sorry for making this letter mostly about religion thus far. I have been said to be a peculiar drunk. Like I stated previously, there are a lot of things that we need to say to each other, and I'm not about to get into it in this dreadful letter. I'm not sure how or when, or if you'll even want to, but we will see each other again, Al. The only reason we haven't as of yet is because our moms are bitches and your dad is actually quite terrifying. But that's neither here nor there.
Annie tells me as much as she can, which isn't much since she has little contact with you and Matthew these days. She did mention that you were studying art and have a cat. I myself got a kitten a few years back. He doesn't actually have a name. I just call him Al. I'm quite the mess nowadays, if you can imagine. Can't even name my own cat without considering you first. The little bastard is sitting in my lap now, begging for attention.
I found him half-dead in an alley when he was a kitten, about a year or so after I left the States. Remembering how emaciated he looked then, I feed him more than is probably necessary, so he's a bit of a porker. He actually does remind me of you, does nothing but eat and bother me when I try to get things done. He's the only companion I have during my heats, if you were worried about that. I know I am in your case, though good luck trying to get me to admit to that when I'm sober.
I broke my promise to you. The one about how it was just going to be us after we graduated high school. You may or may not blame me for that, and if you don't, I surely hate myself enough for the both of us. This mess is my fault, and I haven't stopped apologizing, though you never heard. Scott and I still aren't on the best of terms and we probably never will be. Mum and I aren't either. I think I'm nothing but a disappointment to her. I only deal with Alasdair because he's my drinking partner and Peter is, well, Peter. He's the only one I can count on nowadays. He still remembers you, you know, and never stops asking when we'll get to see you and Matthew again. It's like a stab to the gut, because I don't know what to tell him.
I didn't tell you about my mum's plans to move Peter and me to Finchley until that last day because I was afraid, Al. Afraid that, without me constantly around, you would become scared again and think what we had wouldn't survive the distance. I suppose I was right to worry, though to this day I'm still not sure why you got so angry. I thought if I ignored the subject it would go away, that Mum would forget all about it and I wouldn't have to leave you. I didn't know then, but Alasdair told me she was sending us away because she couldn't afford to take care of us anymore. She had lost her job and was too proud to ask your parents for assistance. I wish she'd told me. Maybe I would've approached the matter of bringing it up with you differently.
I still love you, Alfred, and I have for a long time. Even when you were obsessed with Captain America and did nothing but irritate me, I loved you; like a brother at first, but it always felt like something more. I still consider that day in the barn to be the happiest memory I have. You gave me something precious, and to this day I still don't think I was worthy of it. But I was and am a selfish man. Even if things didn't work out in the end, I wanted to be your first, as you were mine, and I don't regret a thing.
I'm not deluded enough to believe with certainty that you haven't moved on with your life and Annie just isn't saying anything to spare me the heartache. For all I know, you're reading this with your mate hovering nervously nearby. If that is the case, I'm not mad. Well, I am a little, but it's nearly midnight and I'm drunk and haven't slept in nearly eighteen hours. But the Arthur that will wake up tomorrow with a massive migraine won't be upset, Alfred. He'll know that time waits for no one, and sometimes young love is stupid and naive. You were and always will be my best friend, my precious brother, and all I want is for you to have the happiness that you should've had all along.
I love you, Alfred Foster Jones. Remember that God never gives us anything we cannot handle.
Sincerely,
Arthur
Alfred is crying when he finishes reading the letter, Sally yowling at his feet, though the only thought he can piece together is that Arthur is a surprisingly eloquent drunk.
When Elizabeta lets herself into Alfred's apartment the next morning, the Omega is sitting on his couch, staring listlessly at the letter on his coffee table as he strokes Sally's fur. "Al?" The Alpha says cautiously, walking around the edge of the sofa so she can see his face. "Are you… okay?"
"Arthur's sister Annie came by last night."
Elizabeta blinks, her jaw slackening a little. "Really?"
Alfred nods. "She gave me a letter that Arthur wrote me."
Misinterpreting Alfred's odd expression, Elizabeta frowns dangerously and drops her purse on the floor, moving forward to snatch Arthur's letter from the table. "What did he say? I swear to God, if he's been playing with you this whole time – "
"No, it's not like that." Alfred insists, though she reads the letter anyway. He can't bring himself to be annoyed that she's reading something so personal. The woman is practically family at this point, and there's nothing in the letter that Alfred hasn't already told her. If it'll give her peace of mind, he'll let her do what she wants.
"Oh." Alfred watches as the furious scowl slowly melts off her face the further she reads, the look of anger turning into shock. Or maybe awe. "Oh, wow. I shouldn't be reading this."
"It's okay." Alfred laughs, scooping Sally up higher in his arms as Elizabeta continues to read despite her words. The Scottish Fold is half asleep and mews in irritation at being disturbed, though she stays relatively still as Alfred holds her to his chest. "Artie's a well-spoken drunk, wouldn't ya say?"
The woman barks out a laugh, tearing her gaze away from the parchment to stare incredulously at Alfred, shaking her head. "I never pegged Arthur to be an emotional sort after all you told me about him."
"He was better at deciphering his emotions than I was." Alfred says. "But he spent so much time making sure I was okay that he never talked about himself much."
"Hey." Elizabeta soothes, sitting down on the cushions next to Alfred, reaching out to touch his arm. "From the looks of it, he didn't mind one bit. He loves you, Al, even after all that happened! Weren't you worried about that? We should be dancing while Sally Bear watches in disdain!"
"You can't tell since you never knew him, but Arthur seemed different." Alfred says, miserable. He's been thinking about this all night, how Annie said she thought something was wrong. He knows Arthur better than anybody – or he did, once – and the Arthur Kirkland that wrote that letter, while the same, had seemed different, somehow, just as Annie said. The Omega can't figure out why he thinks so, and it bothers him. "Even if he was drunk… I don't know. He didn't sound happy."
"You can tell all that from just a couple of paragraphs?"
"'I hate myself enough for the both of us.' That's what he wrote. Arthur's not melodramatic, Lizzie. If he says something like that, he really does mean it. And it kills me inside knowing that he's thought that way for over five years, and I never knew. I was so worried he'd forgotten all about us, but I didn't stop to think that maybe he thought the same thing about me. He sounded prepared to write me off if I happened to have a mate by now. What if some part of him actually does want to forget me? What if Annie was wrong and he is an angry drunk?"
Alfred releases a shuddering breath, squeezing Sally tightly as he shifts his gaze to Elizabeta, who looks near tears herself, still clutching Arthur's letter in one hand. "I just want him here, with me. I want to hold him again. And after reading that… God, I don't even know anymore."
Elizabeta's thin eyebrows furrow in concern, and she glances at the letter again. "'I still love you, Alfred, and I have for a long time. Even when you were obsessed with Captain America and did nothing but irritate me, I loved you. I love you, Alfred Foster Jones.' I don't know about you, but to me, that doesn't sound like an angry drunk. I think he's sad and lonely just like you, and just knowing that you're out there living for him is what helps him get through every day. He may drink to try and forget about what happened, but it's not to forget you, Al; he wouldn't give up those memories for the world. Even though he's blasted, all he talks about is you, about loving you and remembering the things you used to do and say."
The Alpha looks at him again, her green gaze stern. "You don't have to worry about him. What you need to do is get rid of all this baggage you've been carrying so you can be the person he remembers when you see each other again. It won't do your relationship any good if the both of you are mentally unhealthy."
Alfred stares at her for a moment before he starts to laugh, and Sally, fed up with all the movement, squirms out of his arms and darts off toward the bedroom. "You sure you want to be an author? Because I think you should major in psychology."
Elizabeta deflates with a sigh, looking relieved. Alfred is by no means a sensitive person, but she worries about hurting his feelings sometimes, especially since she doesn't have much of a filter. "Maybe you're onto something there. I could totally do both. Be a psychologist but write on the side? I'd make me mum proud."
"Are you making fun of Arthur for being a Brit?"
"I had no idea they said 'mum' instead of 'mom.'" Elizabeta admits excitedly, and Alfred has to take the letter away from her in case she accidentally crumples it. "When you see Annie again, can I meet her? I wanna listen to her talk."
Alfred can't help but smile, reminded of the times when Arthur would sneak into his bedroom at night and talk Alfred to sleep once they started dating, few though those moments were. He's not sure if all the British have the charm – Alfred certainly never stopped to listen to the way Scott, Alasdair, or Annie talked – but Arthur definitely had it. "I think you guys would get along. You and Arthur, that is. But you probably shouldn't be there when we see each other again. Neither of us has gotten laid in nearly five years, after all."
"You poor souls." Elizabeta croons, leaning over to press a firm kiss to Alfred's cheek before she stands up again. "Come on, we've got a baby shower to plan."
"Can we do this when I'm not so brain dead?" Alfred groans, though he allows Elizabeta to pull him to his feet. She can't support his weight on her own, so he has to help her discreetly. Can't injure that Alpha pride. "I didn't sleep last night. Tino deserves my awesome party planning skills at their full capacity."
"Nuh-uh, we've been talking about this for weeks! We've got classes tomorrow, my parents are visiting Tuesday and they want to meet my best friend, being you, classes Wednesday and Thursday, then Friday is the shower! And now we have to incorporate Annie into all these plans. Dude! Get. Your shit. Together!"
Elizabeta makes a move for her purse and smiles toothily when Alfred glowers at her. "I'll be waiting in the car. Go feed Sally Bear and let's get a move on!"
As Elizabeta storms out of his apartment as quickly as she came, Alfred considers himself lucky that kids probably aren't in his future. Elizabeta is enough of a handful, and she's nearly twenty-two. Not that he doesn't think about it – having kids, that is – because he does. It's nearly impossible not to, considering every part of his biology is wired to make him think like a mother.
When Tino has the baby, Alfred's already agreed to babysit when he isn't working or going to class. They almost wouldn't let him, saying it was too much and "When would you have time for yourself, Alfred?" but honestly, outside of work, school, his small friend circle and Sally, he doesn't have much of a life. At this point in his education, he's focusing on that teaching degree, all of his remedial classwork over and done with, and Alfred has more free time on his hands than any of his friends. He hasn't had trouble getting his work done in nearly two years, so he may as well spend the time he would usually waste on drawing and do something useful, like help his friends out.
He knows it'll be a struggle for them, even with his help. Tino's and Berwald's parents think that if they're old enough to start a family, then they can pay for themselves. They'll help, but not a lot. It'll be tough for a while, but the mated pair have support on all sides. Their kid will be well looked after; Alfred will see to that.
But amidst all the party planning and excitement, Alfred can't help but feel as if he's drowning. Sometimes it hits him hard that he's alone out here; no family, no childhood friends, and no mate. Those are the days when Alfred misses some event and Elizabeta has to come make sure he's okay. It's why she has a key to his apartment. It's bound to get worse, what with this new development with Arthur, and it's enough to send Alfred back to his bedroom to look for Sally as he swallows past the anxious knot building in his throat.
What would Arthur think if he could see him now? When he wrote that letter, had he been talking to the Alfred he'd made love to on the floor of a barn, or the Alfred of the present, the one that sometimes struggles to keep his feet planted firmly on the ground? Alfred lied to Tino. He does hate his parents somewhat, because he wouldn't be like this if it wasn't for them. They took away everything that made him feel normal, made it so he had no other choice but to alienate himself to get through every day.
Alfred isn't crying – isn't even about to – but Sally scampers out of the bedroom before he reaches it, moving toward him, as if sensing his inner turmoil. He scoops her up and turns back around, walking to the kitchen area connected to the main room, and he's reminded of what Arthur wrote in his letter.
I love you, Alfred Foster Jones. Remember that God never gives us anything we cannot handle.
As he prepares Sally's breakfast, Alfred realizes that Arthur is right, just as he always is. He's struck with the same feeling he had in church on that last Sunday, that feeling of enlightenment when he had his epiphany about Arthur and God. To this day Alfred doesn't pray much unless he feels especially hopeless, but he doesn't feel guilty anymore. God always has been and always will be with him, holding his hand when he read Arthur's letter and standing idly by while he feeds Sally.
God loves him. Arthur loves him. Matthew, Lilli, and Feliciano, Elizabeta, Tino, and Berwald – they all love him and want him to succeed. They accept who he is even if his own parents won't, and that's enough for now. It has to be, or else Alfred can't get through his day. He lives for those people and for the moments he has with them, for Tino and Berwald's baby and Mattie and Lilli's wedding, whenever that may be.
Alfred's loved. He's significant. He was given this life because he was best suited to handle it.
The Omega has to smile, crouching down to stroke along Sally's spine as she eats for a few moments before grabbing his coat and billfold.
Arthur did always know just what to say to him.