part one, chapter two
The day after started off strange, to say the least. My life during high school, ignoring the point that I was the president of the student council, consisted of me being disregarded as a bystander, somebody who nobody should care about, in a that vast sea of strangers that infected the world. That morning didn't quite go that way, instead of blank glances, I got icy stares, pissed off grunts, and slightly violent shoves from passersby.
I've always been used to attention, no matter how little I got it, as I was more than happy to show up any snob and slap them with a reality check, no matter what the repercussions. Consequentially, the out casts, nerd, geeks and everybody in between all got a good laugh out of it. But that day was different; the monarchy was the ones looking at me. Down their noses, with their snooty glares and scowls, a few were looking at me like I had stood on.
It was rather worrying at first, before I actually noticed the reason. At the end of the corridor- which had seemed endless and suffocating with all the eyes on me- was Alfred. He was lent against one of the blank, shiney walls beside the door of my form room, I nearly ignored him and walked straight past him in attempt to beckon the eyes away from me, but he spoilt that plan by grabbing my shoulder and giving it a mild shake. At that point I was on edge, so at his touch I shot my head up to glare at him, a glare less merciful than the ones I had been receiving.
He blinks down at me, seemingly unaware of my situation "Hey! are we still on for after school?"
When he said that, I realised that I was part of the reason I was gaining all of this attention, or rather, that was the point it fully processed in my head. Even though I was previously friends with the boy, he was now popular, the monarchy owned him and put him up to sit on their red, velvet throne, ready to kick him off if he makes a wrong move. It wasn't my proudest moment, but I found myself regretting agreeing to the golden boys arrangement, or even sticking up for him. "yes, sure, why not?" I tilted my head with a mild scowl masking me.
I wouldn't say I feared the popular kids, but rather feared becoming one. yes, I am aware how utterly idiotic that sounds but it's true, just the thought of the eyes glazing me in plastic, selling me off to be the schools next source of merchandise, it knocked me sick. I told this once to Alfred after this all happened; he just tilted his head and laughed.
"Sounds like you're just socially awkward," and then he carried on playing his dumb video game, without another word, leaving me to huff and watch.
Back then, though, I was just pretty sure it was because I hated everybody around me, and so I tensed up whenever a stranger tried speaking to me, or if somebody I didn't know even glanced in my direction.
Thankfully, Alfred looked past my scowl and patted my head, making me want to punch his throat "I'll see you then, yeah?" and then he just breezed past me, like it was no big deal, leaving me in a puddle of anger that was not truly directed at anybody.
"Oi, Arthur!" A voice echoed from behind me, recognising on instant who it was, I ignored it and continued walking "Arthur, you fucking ignorant asshole,"
Until the footsteps behind me become audible and I feel a shadow, I do not acknowledge any being at all. Once I hear heavy breathing beside me, I say "Gilbert, what is it?"
The albino pants, out of breath in his terrible state of fitness, and leans on my arm lazily "really? That's how you treat your awesome friend?" Frustrated, I shrug him off me, and he almost falls onto the tiled floor of the hallway "hey! Who put a stick up your ass?"
Staring daggers at him, I growl "Nobody has, piss off would you?"
"Liar! you're worse than normal! is it something to do with that shit with the golden boy?" he asks, sounding genially worried for my wellbeing. I could see him from the corner of my eye, leaning forward to get a good look at my face with the curiosity of a puppy- A puppy who cursed a lot, mind you.
Me and Gilbert had been friends for a few years by that point, though it had been an odd friendship riddled with swearing and punching each other, but we were good friends none the less. We became friends one day, about a month after we had started high school, I had overworked myself, because my father -the biological one- had been forcing me to take two part time jobs, to raise money for the church (Aka, beer) and I had drifted into quite a deep asleep on my desk, drooling a little on the table.
Back then, Gilbert had been an enthusiastic child, who had wanted to show everybody how 'awesome' he was by doing his best at work and trying- and failing- to be nice to everybody around him. Over the years, probably with a little help from me, he had lost that goal and had morphed into someone happy with the people he had around him, and unique, to say the least.
Anyway, being the good kid he was, the lad noticed me fast asleep and, according to him, snoring pretty loudly. Instead of throwing his hand up into the air and telling the teacher, like I probably would have done myself, he had recorded a second set of notes for me, and gave them to me at the end of the lesson.
It was a silly act of kindness, I was truly baffled as to how somebody would do this for someone who had already earned the title 'stuck up nerd', and so it got us talking. We were the strangest set of friends you could imagine. Well, except for me and Alfred I suppose, I do attract opposites, it seems.
We're still in contact today, me and Gilbert, but since I no longer live in England- I do miss it greatly, if you are wondering- we cannot talk as often as we did back then.
That's not what I'm supposed to be talking about though.
I blink in confusion "How the hell do you know anything about that?"
Beside me, he digs into the pocket of his jet black hoody- which had cat ears sewn onto the hood, god knows why- to take out his the slim tablet that was his phone. The school we went to, had a really popular forum page on the internet, anything was discussed there, from the newest sweethearts hooking up- and breaking up- to the horrors of the school menu, to even favourite colours. The most popular subject of talk was always at the absolute top of the page, and that day the subject was, well, me.
In big, block white obnoxious letters, read the words 'KING ALFRED HAS A NEW PET, LOL'. I still hit myself to this day for being most frustrated because of the 'Lol' at the end of the statement, rather being lowered to the status of a pet.
"What the bloody hell?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at the screen and reading some of the related posts. Apparently many people, mainly girls, were resentful of my new place as the 'kings pet'. Others were discussing what my relationship actually was with the lad; some even went to the extent of naming me Alfred's new boy toy. "Ugh, pricks," I comment, slightly discussed by the terms being used.
Gilbert laughs "I know right?" he looks at his phone himself and scrolls slightly "you talk to someone once, and suddenly you're fucking them... "
I sigh, continuing my walk, which was directed to the student council, before commenting, absent minded "I wonder what he's thinking about all this," aggravation was still lining my voice, so it gave off the impression that I was actually annoyed at Alfred; and I may have truly believed I was at the time, I don't actually remember.
"Probably loving the attention," the Prussian replied, sliding his phone back into its home. Gil knew in detail about what happened between me and Alfred, since we made friends just as I was losing the other, and he hated him for it. He often made jokes about him when I had felt down, like it was the Alfred's fault I wasn't having the best day. I always ended up laughing at them though, feeling guilty the moment my laughter dies down.
Shrugging, I reply "maybe, but wouldn't you get sick of being the schools 'king' after a while?" I spit the word 'king', as I always did, I hated how he had developed the status. To me, Alfred was a normal, down to earth person, and the people around him had forced him into this persona like he was nothing more than a puppet on a string. Then, after treating him like their star actor, they went ahead and rewarded him by making it so everybody thought of him as a perfect soul, who would never do anything socially unexpected. Such as getting a trade.
"No, cause I'm awesome! I deserve the attention more than that cock of a guy,"
"He's not actually that bad," I comment, feeling as if we had just been attacking the boy with no real reason "Just a little self-absorbed... much like you actually,"
"piss off," he laughs, hitting my arm slightly with the point of his elbow "what are you? one of his fan boys?"
"nah, I'm his pet, remember?" I say we both burst out in a flood of pointless laughter as we reach my destination.
The door to the student council room, was somehow intimidating, for an inanimate object. It was huge and made of oak, swirled in caramel and dark chocolate. The twin brass handles were painted golden, with a little hole for a key to slot in. I must say, every time I unlocked those doors I felt as if I was, rather than the king's pet, a prince to the school. Nobody knows that, because of how much of a cringe worthy thought it actually is, but it's true.
The room past those doors, on the other hand, was hardly classy. Just a long table scattered with scrap paper inked with doodles, with a terrible lighting which twitched and flicked, making it hard to read anything put in front of you. Still, all I had to do was walk in, print off some paper work so the general appearance of the room didn't bother me, plus, as president I got my own desk and computer, so I hardly had to deal with the problems of the scraggy room.
"Hey, as prez, don't you get access to school records?" Gilbert asks, trailing behind me as I approach the computer.
I fall onto the black swivel chair, twisting in the seat to face the monitor and keyboard to type my log in details, I reply in a distracted hum "yeah... why?"
He leans forward, propping his elbows onto my desk to get a look at what I was doing, though, it was likely he wasn't actually interested, but wanted something to occupy his eyes with. "Doesn't that include medical stuff? You could see if king dip shit did a trade or not,"
"... I'm not going to do something like that, it would be make me worse than the monarchy..." I grumble as I click the odd folder on my desktop, searching for the one I needed.
At that time, I wanted hear the truth from Alfred himself. It hadn't seemed like such a big deal, whether or not he had traded any of his sanity, but it was human nature to be curious.
At the end of the day, I wasn't too sure where I was supposed to go, since my last lesson wasn't with Alfred and we hadn't really scheduled a meeting spot. Wandering around the halls, surprisingly, helped quite a bit, as it seemed that he had been searching for me too.
"Arthur! Hey!" he had exclaimed as if we had not just walked into each other, as I rub my forehead while squinting up at him. His grin was wide and bright, and he held his arms out to punctuate his sentence as if he was going to pull me into a clumsy embrace in greeting. Mumbling something even I couldn't comprehend, I walk past him, silently ushering him to follow me. "bet you've been looking forward to hangin with me all day, huh?"
I look back from where I was, a few paces ahead of him, and give him a humoured glance "don't flatter yourself, Alfred." It was a playful warning, and my way of telling him that we were still on the same level, he may have become the 'king' of the school, but I wasn't about to treat him like the royalty he and the other populars a portrayed and pretended to be.
Alfred skips forward to join my pace as we begin our way down the schools staircase to get to the ground floor "so you don't want to hang?" he raises an eye brow "no free tea for you then, huh,"
"oh piss off," I laugh, and we begin our way to the cafe. I wish I could say our relationship maintained this playful air, that is was comfortable even beyond this point, but that would be a lie. I'm getting ahead of myself though.
Outside, the air was icy to our skin, and I hit myself for not bringing a thick coat in that day. So when we got into the little, compact cafe Alfred had swore by, the change in temperature was rather overwhelming. One minute my skin had felt like I had taken an ice bath, the next, a thick layer of sweat had appeared on my forehead. Alfred went to get our drinks as I sat down at a small, circular table. I have a small time to think about the situation I'm in, and why I agreed.
I'll be honest now, it was because I wanted to know if the rumour was true or not. It was hypercritical, I know, and that's why I refused to admit it to myself. Back then, though, when scanning my brain for excuses, the best I could find is that I wanted to support the boy in his situation. It was true, I did want to help him, but for my own little selfish reasons, but then again, when are we, as a race, not selfish?
Alfred walks over to the table, two polystyrene cups clasped in his hands. He places the one inked with the words 'earl gray' in front of me and pulls his seat out, the wood of the chair scraping the tiles to make a painful screech. I take the drink in front of me, letting its heat bleed between my fingers while taking a deep breath of the teas herbal fumes.
"so..." I hum contently "how have you been?"
He leans back in his chair, crossing his legs lazily "uh, Alright I suppose, you?"
"well, I have straight A's and I'm the student council president," I explain, mildly boasting that I had achieved the goals I set at the start of high school, wondering whether or not he remembered our childish discussions about our futures "so I'm pretty good,"
He takes a sip from the drink in his hand, nodding absent minded "sounds pretty boring really,"
"oh, do shut up," I scowl lightly "It's not like you're any better, surrounded by people who'd make a joke out of anything you bloody do,"
"You think so?" he smirks "sure you're not just jealous?"
Shaking my head, I considered bringing up what happened the other day, but don't as of the light hearted atmosphere we were in. Instead, I just rolled my eyes and retorted "as if I'd be jealous you, twit,"
He looks at me for a moment, before shrugging lightly "well, I never see you talking with anyone,"
"I never see you not talking to anyone." I narrow my eyes "I'm pretty good friends with Gilbert, and I talk to Francis now and again,"
There's no reply, he just glances out the frosted window to our side, seemingly lost in thought. I give up expecting an answer, and follow his gaze, up in the sky had become dark and the clouds heavy. Not a surprise, seen as we lived in England, but I remember thinking how they ruined the view outside, and took away from the happy space me and Alfred had created as we got to know each other once more.
Needless to say, the 'catch up' didn't end up lasting too long. We just spoke about odd things, the majority of the time was consumed by silence as Alfred regularly got up to get more coffee and a heap of cakes and pastries. Now, growing up with the lad, I was more than used to his less-than-elegant eating habits, but I remember thinking 'that's a bit much... even for him' when watching as he ate, and ate, and ate. Our few conversations were spoken very vaguely, and I couldn't quite summon the heart to ask him about the trade business, all our encounter had achieved was to make me worry more.
As I had said, I never really believed it was any more than a rumour, there was just this stupid little nagging in the back of my head asking me, what if it was true? And what if he had nobody to help him through it?
stupid stuff I would have never, and still would never, admit had ever ran through my head. My pride is a massive factor in my life, and so caring for someone over an extended period of time of never speaking is something I never admit to anybody. Even Alfred himself is still unaware I was actually so bothered about it, even now.
We had said our goodbyes, I still sat down as I was finishing the last mouthful of tea that swamped the bottom of my cup, and he had walked off, harbouring a strangely serious aura. It had been around five minutes of me sitting alone in the cosy cafe before I noticed his jacket was still in a wrinkled bunch on the chair in front of me. Upon its discovery, I had said aloud "ah fuck," and got several annoyed glances from staff and others alike.
Having no reason for staying any longer, I grabbed his brown jacket and headed out. He must have got a taxi, because there was no sight of him anywhere. It was pretty lucky I knew where he lived, because I doubt I could have taken the strange looks from everyone the next day when I walked up to him and tossed the lump of fabric in his face, but I had to walk since I did not have the leisure of carrying around a load of cash, since my mother did not trust be with it for some reason, and therefore could not get a taxi.
The walk took me longer than twenty minutes, as I had been strolling casually, the boys coat stuffed into my satchel, before I actually made it to his house.
The residence of the Jones family was quite large, but that shouldn't surprise you since all of us at my school were well off, and living in, at the very least, decent houses. Though, this one in particular had always taken my breath away. It was truly fit for a king; towering over you in the grandest way possible, a combination of: stone, pillars, fountains and a garden painted with hundreds of flowers, and grass that seemed to always be freshly mowed.
I had stood outside the palace for a moment or two, looking up at the masterpiece in awe and nostalgia, before pushing open the huge iron gate and making my way to the entrance. It hadn't occurred to me how Alfred's dad would react to my sudden re-appearance in his life, as I knocked heavily on the front door.
"Hello... Arthur? Is that you?" The man had said to me upon seeing my face. The first thing that struck me, was the fact his once black slick head of hair he once possessed, had began turning silvery, and it kind of resembled thousands of tiny silver wires upon his head. At that point, I realised, he had been well into his fifties, and it was made obvious by the shadows of wrinkles starting to appear on his face, and the slouching of his back.
"Mr jones," I managed with a nod, masking my uncertainness "it's been a while,"
"Are you here to see Alfie? come in! come in!"
I went on to explain about the item I needed to return, telling him I couldn't stay long as I needed to be at the hospital for nine o'clock, my father's break time, it wasn't like I hadn't wanted to catch up with the man, I just needed to be somewhere. The look he gave me made me feel slightly guilty, his wife was in hospital with cancer, and his son was always locked up in his room playing video games, the other studying. I guess he was looking forward for someone to talk to, so I added at the end of my flustered explanation "I'll come tomorrow, if I'm not busy,"
Smiling, he nodded and gestured to the stairs as if he expected me to have forgotten where it was "first door you see is Al's, you could drop in to see Matthew for a moment too, if you have time,"
Then, I made my way up the marble staircase, and then without thinking, I let myself into his room like I had always done before. I wasn't really prepared to see what I did. The nostalgia, the huge house I had the hidden need to explore, the man I hadn't seen for years, it all made me feel like I was back in my child hood, back where stuff like this didn't exist, none of it did, in my blissful, childhood ignorance.
You must have had an experience like it; it's kind of like, when you're in a daze, walking down the street without a worry in the world, and then, because you weren't paying attention to anything ahead of you, you allow yourself to step into a puddle. The water explodes under the pressure of your foot and covers you, leaving you cold and shivering and feeling shameful for a reason you can't put your finger on.
Well, that's what it had felt like when I absentmindedly strolled into his room, and saw Alfred- staring down at his tanned wrist, where he held a rusty razor blade, barely touching his skin. All the happy, childish feelings I had were ripped from me, the air became thick and for the first time I saw Alfred as more than a happy, bubbly childhood friend, or the king held so highly he was almost not visible any more, but a human. I had stepped into a puddle.
I can't remember what exactly I was thinking, if I was thinking at all, but I know that the moment I lay my eyes on him, I ran short distance between us and shouted, with a the slightest sob hidden behind fake anger "what the bloody hell are you doing?"
Not fazed by my presence, he mumbled through his tense lips, which he had seemingly been biting, as they now seemed a bloody red, chapped and sore "Hello Arthur," He made no attempt to look at me, his eyes just stayed glued to where they were, focussed "here to bring me my coat? sorry for leaving it," he laughed slightly as if we were idly chatting, face to face "I didn't mean to be an inconvenience."
He then proceeded to grip the blade in the hand he held it, a little too tightly, and threw it to the other side of the room, before letting his limbs drop, like the flop of a puppet that had been cut from its strings.
His coat was now on the floor, much like the two of us, and the thought of it had completely fled from my mind. I gripped the arm he had the razor pressed against and searched it, thank god there was no cuts, just a little scratch where the blade had indented slightly. Forgive me, but I can't go into too much detail about what I was thinking or feeling, it's a very hazy memory I had tried to forget until now, but I think I was on the verge of tears.
"I didn't do it, don't worry," he shrugged me off, taking his arm from my grasp and unrolling his sleeve so it covered his wrist. He stares at the razor for a moment, before looking at me with a blank expression "have you ever heard of knocking by the way?"
"...I'm sorry?" I blinked, words escaping my mind, trying to grasp how he had gone from the joyful boy he was in the cafe, to the blank canvass he was now. Had it been my fault? "... Alfred, I-"
"shut up."
I don't retaliate; just study his face, and mumble "Okay."
I'm not sure how long I sat on his floor, pathetically; it could have been a few seconds, or even ten minutes. But I'm sure my limbs felt too heavy too move, even though I obviously wasn't wanted there. Finally, though, he began talking after a sad, quiver of a sigh "...I tried not to, Arthur... I swear I did... I just saw it- the razor- lying there, a-and I couldn't stop myself-"
I wrapped my arms around him, not knowing what else to do, hushing his voice. Awkward as it was, he shut up immediately, and stayed limp as I stroked his back reassuringly. It was strange, like a mother's instinct, as if there was nothing else I could do, and we stayed like that until he stopped shaking.
"Don't worry Alfred, I'm not going to question you," I stated, although the voice inside me was shouting at me to ask him about the trade "as long as you promise not to do it again,"
"I'm not sure I can promise that."
"... I'll give you my number, okay? Then, if you ever want to do it again, you can call me, day or night."
after a pause full of tension, he nodded into my shoulder.
I stayed a while longer, even said hello to Matthew, as if none of it had happened. I made sure to pick up the razor on my way out.
A/N:
Hello! So, I planned on waiting a few days before posting the next chapter
...
...
...
like that was ever going to happen.
Either way, I dont want you to think this was all written and edited in one day, because it wasn't. I have already pre-written five chapters, all of the first part of this story. There will be three parts in total... agh I better get writing!
thank you to pippy231 and madameppink for following this story, it means the world to me it really does. Okay, see you next time!