Chapter three

"Artie?" spheres blinked down at me, in complete confusion "what's that from?"

He pointed to the scabbed cut on my cheek, I shrugged, not wanting to talk about it "Daddy did it... b-but mummy said its okay, because he didn't mean to,"

"...but aren't daddies supposed to stop you from getting cuts and bruises?"

"it was an accident Al." I spat at the younger boy, pouting and looking away.

It was nothing but a memory, but as I sat in the staff room with my father it kept repeating in my head. That day I was slouched back on the couch, much like I was a child who was overflowing with boredom, staring up at the ceiling and watching as my mind projected my childhood before my eyes. "Father?"

"mh?"

"what stage of sanity would you be at if you got urges to self harm?" I as, flipping onto my stomach to face him.

This body language is not odd for those at my age, but for me it was. I normally sit with a straight back and the dullest expression you could ever imagine on anybody's faces, so I guess my dad was justified for almost jumping out of his seat and exclaiming "you are getting urges to self harm?"

I blinked at his worried expression, and furrowed my eyebrows "well, no, but... somebody I know is..."

He calms down and relaxes again. reaching for his coffee (I have lectured him many times how much better tea is but he just never listens) he sighs.

"is this your attempt to get me to tell you about Alfred?"

My reply to this was to groan extremely loudly so he knew for frustrated I was, before saying "of course bloody not! I don't care about that right now!"

"Don't use that tone with me young man!"

as much as I loved him, my dad was really hard to talk to sometimes. But, I guess you all know what it feels like to have somebody like that, so I don't really need to go into detail here. My point is, he was making it really hard for me to talk about what had just happened, and his opinion was the one I looked up to the most. So, not because I was angry with him or anything, I stood up and stormed out without saying goodbye, and headed for outside.

I was a wreck, really, I wasn't the best at dealing after all, and what had just happened drowned me in them. The thoughts running through my head also scared me slightly.

I was angry at Alfred for even thinking of doing something like that, I just wanted to shout at him until he realised how selfish he was being, how could he want to harm himself, when so many people loved him, looked up to him? The answer was obvious though, looking back, I wasn't supposed to walk in, I wasn't supposed to stop him or even see him. He would have carried on his perfect act and nobody would know how much he hated himself.

Would it have been better that way? I wasn't sure.

A stranger must had seen my frustration, because he held a cigarette out to me and said "hard day, huh?"

At that point I was crouched down outside the hospital, my shoulders hunched over my knees. At first I was ready to turn it away, but tears welled in my eyes slightly and somehow I convinced myself that taking it would make it all go away.

"Y-yeah," I replied, taking the tube of Tabaco-already lit- and looking up at the stranger thankfully.

This was my first, and last, time smoking. It wasn't very enjoyable, in truth, but the memory is glorified by the kindness of the stranger. the first drag clogged my airways and irritated them, making me cough stupidly. It was horrible, and slightly humiliating, but it gave me an excuse to let a tear or two fall and lable it 'watering eyes'.

"so, what is it?" he flicks his ash onto the floor beside him "maybe tellin ' a stranger will make ya feel better," his accent was heavy, but I'm not sure where he could have been from, his voice was also rough, but that was probably from all the smoking.

I blew out some smoke into the air and watched at it got lost in the sky "... I found out a friend was self harming," I had picked my words carefully, I didn't want this man thinking I was stupid for getting so worked up even though he wasn't really my friend any more, and the razor hadn't even cut his skin. Maybe I was seeking a little pity, who knows?

We both continued looking into the inky black sky, never bothering to take note on the others appearance "ouch," he commented with a slight, sadistic chuckle which honestly made me feel better "well, what can you do huh? I don't want to sound mean but, I really hate people who do that,"

My legs had began wavering slightly, so I stood up and leant onto the brick wall behind me and nodded "I wanted to slap him, honestly," pause "... though, he was trying to inflict pain on himself, so it would have been stupid for me to have done that,"

He laughs "yeah. would have been Kinda hypocritical if you had done that," he stays silent for a moment, I didn't speak as the way his words hung in the air made it seem like he was thinking, so I urged him on silently "Is he really important to you?"

I think about this for a moment, honestly not sure on the answer myself, everything I had been doing told be he was still important to me, but I still found myself saying "we're pretty distant. you know how it is..."

"yeah, I have a friend like that too. why's it eatin at you so much then?"

"I guess I feel responsible," I reply, honestly "...it doesn't matter, I have to go now, sorry,"

Remembering it now, I find myself wondering if he actually had a story of his own. He was stood outside of a hospital, after all, talking to an absolute stranger, maybe he wanted to talk about it too. Back then, I have to say, I was quite the brat, it never crossed my mind he wanted to speak too, and I had walked off without a care, feeling slightly better about my feelings having them reassured by a second party.

THE KINGS PET MAY HAVE UPGRADED TO... MORE?

That was the latest headline on our school website, as before Gil had been the one to show me. Slouched forward on my desk, nesting my head in my folded arms, I flinched when he thrust his phone in my face, before scanning over the titles listed as subcategories of the forum post. Then I made an uninterested grunt, turning my attention to the view out of the window, not really caring what people thought.

But Gilbert did care, and he groaned beside me as he let his arm drop "what did you do?" he asked in frustration.

"I did nothing," I answered, my breath misting up the glass I was facing.

"well apparently you were seen going inside golden boys house!"

I scowled "I was returning his jacket,"

"the hell did you have his jacket anyway?!"

I jerked my head up "He left it in McDonalds, so I thought I might do the half decent thing, look where that's gotten me! oh boy I'm now the kings little whore, woop-dee-fucking-doo!" I sing the last bit tilting my head from side to side with every syllable. when I'd finished, I lay my head back onto my arms lazily "we used to be friends anyway, whys this such a big deal?"

"well duh," his tone was now a lot more calm, I hear the chair behind me screech as he pulls it out to sit on "he's the king, your the student council president... heh, weird, since you're the British one shouldn't you be the king and he be the prez?" I look at him with the expression of 'are you kidding me?' before he carries on "anyhow, nobody looks at what was, they just like to know what is. ya know?"

"How bloody stupid," I complain.

At that moment Alfred walks in, his eyes search the room until they find me, he smiles upon his discovery. I remember feeling pretty un sure as the weather or not I should trust it, his smile I mean, but since it wasn't his usual perfect grin I figured it must have been real enough. He tilts his wrist to me, bragging slightly that he resisted the urge of the previous night without my help, I guessed.

I then proceeded to curse him as he made his way over to me and sit in the seat in front of me and said nonchalantly "hey Artie,"

my heart jumped slightly at that, the nick name, I had expected him to continue our acquaintance act, the one I suppose I had been relying on. I grunted in response, not wanting to spark any more rumours about us, and cautious of the tension Gilbert had created by going completely quiet.

"uh... Thanks for last night..." he looked at the albino beside me for a moment, then he gestures to the bomber jacket tied around his waist "this is my favourite jacket, after all,"

"yeah, sure."

"have you got a head ache or something? if you have I've got painkillers,"

I shake my head and sit up once again, my back cracking from the abnormal contortion it had been in "Just... tired." I answered, eyeing the others in the room, aware they may use anything we said in another context.

That's when Gilbert spoke up, I don't know till this day if he was just annoyed at the American, or if he was worried about me. I don't care really.

"Oi, golden boy," A few gasps sounded around the room, nobody had ever called the boy his nickname to his face, so nobody truly knew how to react. what most had done was scowled in Gilberts direction before looking at Alfred curiously for any sign of response, he did not deliver, though. I had just turned to him, just as curios as everybody else were of what he had to say, but not overthinking anything being said out of my sure exhaustion "do you mind not starting things with Arthur, here? you had your chance at being his friend, and all your doing now is creating shit for him."

And then I panicked slightly, wanting so much to punch my friend square in his face. I looked between the two, worried at what Alfred's reaction was going to be, but the clog in my throat not willing me to speak.

"uh, well, I'm sorry, but I wasn't aware me an' Artie had stopped being friends."

he didn't sound offended or possessive like most people would have if they would have said anything like this. It was more like he was apologising, and reassuring both me and Gil that he would stop the rumours.

Although, I have to say, it hurt me, him claiming that we were still friends, even after all of the years of getting ignored. I hadn't held to him at all, I understood perfectly why a popular wouldn't be friends with me (since I was in the process of facing the repercussions), but that statement sounded like he was denying any of it ever happened.

I stayed silent, but everybody else did not. conversations sparked to life, gossip so loud that our conversation had been forgotten about.

And then Alfred carried on, in a more hushed tone "look, I'll sort it out, I'm sorry okay?" and then he stood up, and walked to where his other friends were.

"What the heck are you doing Artie?!" Gilbert asks as I type away on the computer in the student council office "I wasn't being serious when I said that yesterday, you cant just look at his medical history like that!"

Call me horrible, if I was in your position I would do, but the itch to know the truth had grown too much, and now it clawed at my brain every time I saw the lad. For a while, nothing had been happening considering Alfred and his trade, but the morning of the day I'm speaking about now, I had began hearing rumours about the boy, and how his popularity had been dropping dramatically. Apparently, as soon as it was clear that Alfred had actually gone through a trade, or had become 'insane', as they put it, he will be disguarded by his friends and followers, and kicked off the throne that was so high it had become little less than a sky scraper. For some reason, hearing this news made me uncomfortable not knowing whether or not he had given his sanity to his mother to use to live.

As a result, I had marched down the halls of my school in an aura of determination the moment break time began. Before realising it, I was at the computer for the student council president, and Gilbert had been stood at the doors in awe, something I didn't understand. He said "You're not doing what I think you're doing, right?"

This had surprised me, so I raised an eyebrow at him as, the hue off the computer radiating on my face. I was wondering something along the lines of, wasn't he the one who suggested this? "Why not? you shouldn't care, you hate him,"

"I don't hate him, I just don't like how he treats you dipshit,"

I hummed in response, finding no reason to reply or attempt to explain myself. And then I found his file, and clicked on it. The albino shuffled uncomfortably to a place behind me, muttering something I can't quite recall, probably something about how much of a moron I was.

And then, there it was, right under the personal records- things like age, full name, ect- in the same size and font as any of the other letters or numbers on the page. But to me, the words looked as if they had been highlighted.

'Type two reduction/trade- 50%'

I blinked. My fingers were hovering, stiff, above the key board, as if I was just about to continue typing furiously. A part of me, the part that wanted to know this so much, was mocking me, asking me 'what now?' and other pointless questions like that. After a few seconds I shook my head and sat back in my seat, muttering an 'oh god,' at a volume only I would be able to hear.

I feel as if, that was one of the most selfish things I have ever done, literally invading the lawfully private information of Alfred. Seen as, if you are younger that eighteen, nobody should be open to the information about your trade other than parents, school and anything medical. The information I had just learnt, it hadn't actually changed anything, really. Before then I had seen the boy close to self harm, so I was already happy to help him in any way he needed, wanted. Even if that hadn't of happened, did I really need that excuse to care for the boy? so, if you want to know what I felt as a reaction, it was guilt. Through and through.

I still feel it now, thinking how much I really shouldn't have done that, how instead I should have just resisted any questions I had because Alfred should have really come first.

But, we're like that, us humans. It's our nature to be selfish, to want to fit in, to prove ourselves right. We go on so much about how good of a race we are, what's humane and what isn't, and yet, we treat everybody like objects.

Around this time I had started having nightmares, or rather, memories. One I can remember vividly is of my brother, Allistor, looking down at me and explaining, in detail, how the trade had come around. That was around the time I was close to having a reverse trade, that's gaining sanity- rather than giving it- in exchange for another's life source, and so reducing the time they have to live in attempt to cure any mental taboos you have. I knew about this whole deal earlier than most, kids are usually taught about the trades at the ages of fourteen, around the time they are taught about sex ed.

This is because of innocence, the need parents have to maintain their child's naivety, to keep their babies from turning into adults. That light buried in a child that, now that you're older, you will see in any child scurrying around you. You can even pinpoint that light in your own childhood, no matter how horrible you were treated growing up we all have that memory of our, innocent, ignorant selves. After all ignorance is bliss.

Anyway, I have this memory I dreamt about sometimes, when I was about ten. It was the first time anyone had told me what a trade was, I was being told time and time again that I was going to get one, but nobody had bothered to explain it. And, well, it was on purpose.

Adults don't like thinking about death themselves. If you had to explain to a child, that they were practically taking away from somebody's life span, simply to change the way they thought, it wouldn't feel right. Allistor, however, hated everything the trade stood for, and resented my father for making me get one.

I often heard his arguments with him at night, but since the language was too advanced at that stage I cant really reference anything that was said. But it definitely was heartfelt, my brother was always calling me a brat, and such, but in this period of time he smiled at me, and answered all of my questions, including the 'Alli? what is a trade?' from my dream.

You might be wondering why I call this a nightmare, and, well this should explain most of it.

A couple of nights after discovering the truth, I was torn from one of those memory/nightmare type dreams, by my phone screeching and buzzing on the shelf above my head. I never switched my phone off before I went to bed, like most of the people I knew did, because if I got a call it was usually important, like my dad was going to stay at the hospital all night, or my mother may need my help doing something down at her lab (did I not mention? yeah, my foster mother was a scientist), so you can imagine the panic I was in. Fighting with my duvet, I struggled to extend my arm and twist it so that I could reach the buzzing device.

Thankfully, I got to it before it stopped ringing, and know sat up in my nest of bed covers, I answered, breathing heavily "h-hello?"

The response I got was surprisingly nonchalant, though after a few moments as if their words were thought through in detail "hey Artie,"

I blink, sleep outlining my eye and weaving my eyelashes "I'm sorry, who is this?" My voice was slightly scratchy, since I was still in that stage of waking up where everything around you was slightly more blue that usual, and your throat is so dry it feels like sand paper.

I hear the person click their tongue "is it not obvious?"

Pausing for a moment, I sigh before falling back onto my bed "Alfred, what's wrong?"

"I can't sleep, an' I felt like talking to you... um, that totally sounded weirder than I meant it to,"

If I heard that sentence now, I would probably feel really happy and flattered, and get this fluffy churn in my stomach that would make me want to laugh and throw up at the same time. Though, this is teenage Arthur we're talking about, the one who thought it would be a good idea to look through somebody's medical history and then avoid them for the following days because he felt so guilty. There for, I just glanced at the clock and replied "its three in the bloody morning, wanker, talk to me in the morning,"

There was a noise on the other end of the phone, which I presume to be an awkward shuffle, before I got the answer "but you told me I could call you anytime," he pauses "day or night..."

I start rubbing my eyes furiously, deciding I wasn't even that tired "oh... I did say that,"

"yup."

There was an awkward silence between us, which I took as time for me to get out of the warmth of my bed and stole, drowsily, towards my desk. I switch on my lamp, which fills the room with a slight amber hue, and put the call on loud speaker so I had no need of holding it to my ear.

"I suppose I woke you then." He comments, rather dully, lacking any of his usual enthusiasm.

"Well, yeah, I don't normally stay up a moment after ten," I reply, digging into my bag to find the homework that was due the next day "but, it's kind of a good thing you called, since I have homework to do..."

He laughs "you're such a nerd,"

"Psh, excuse me if I don't want to fail epically at my exams,"

I hear him hum in thought, along with another rustle "I'm passing most of my work, at least I think I am... on second thought, I'm probably not,"

In the process of scribbling ink onto my math homework, I reply, absent minded "ands whys that?"

"Cause' I'm stupid,"

It may not seem like an odd reply, but for Alfred, the boy who went round calling himself the 'hero', him claiming that he was stupid was rather shocking to me. That's when I remembered his trade, and why I had not been talking to him, and I felt the guilt fill my stomach once again. "you're not stupid, don't be silly," I reply, sitting back in my swivel chair, putting the end of my pen to my bottom lip "You just chose to focus on your social skills, that's an intelligence in its own way,"

"...right."

"so, what do you want to talk about?" I ask, anxious to switch the subject.

"I dunno... ur, oh yeah, you never told me why go got fostered,"

I usually would have refused a topic like this right away, it was personal information and I hadn't told anyone about it before that point. But, I felt I owed a bit of my personal information to him, to make up for the invasion of his privacy I had committed a few days earlier, and I think, now, if I hadn't of told him anything that day, we wouldn't of trusted each other as much as we did later on, when it actually mattered. That being said, I wasn't that confident about it, he may had of been my childhood friend, but I still thought he must have been different now. In my eyes, Alfie from my childhood, and Alfred the golden boy, were two completely different people.

Regaining the confidence you once had in a person is, in a way, even harder than trusting a complete stranger. There's this slight fear I had, which I hadn't noticed at the time, that if I actually talked to him, it would solidify for me that the person I had known, had gone forever. It's scary, so I would have rather watched him from a far, and kept him the same in my eyes.

Though, I suppose, seeing him with that razor had completely killed the air of innocence I had seen in him. It's stupid really. I was always joking with Gilbert, sometimes even Francis, about how high his little fans held him on their pedestal, and yet I was the same. No, I hadn't seen him as this boy who was amazing at everything, but I did try to convince myself that he was the same silly child I loved when we were little.

Talking about this now actually reminds me of an incident about a year previous to when all this had been happening. I had been sat in my usual seat, watching the sky and its clouds move at a turtle like speed, when I heard the popular kids- that includes golden boy, although he hadn't quite gained that title back then- talking about relationships and such. It was idle banter, and I wasn't too interested in who was dating who, and if this person was a virgin where as that one lost it when they were twelve. None of it was really that true anyway.

Then they all turned on Alfred, and I guess this made me a little bit more interested. One boy, if I remember correctly he was one of the lads who were asking Alfred if he had a trade that time at dinner, was accusing him of 'shagging' – as he put it- Elizaveta in the girls toilets. Obviously, the American was denying it, even if he was laughing along with the others.

At that point I had scowled at then and stood up, raising my voice in a harsh tone to say "Elizaveta would do no such thing, she is not a whore, unlike most of you," and stormed out in a rush of anger.

I had talked to the girl at that point, since she was a friend of Gilbert, so it would be completely normal for me to stick up for her. That said, I remember that my stomach did a little flip as soon as Alfred was mentioned, and although I was friends, as such, with the girl, I believed she could both stick up for herself and do whatever she wanted. Alfred, on the other hand, in my mind, was not. For me, that would have been like a seven year old had come up to me and began to brag of their sexual partners. Quite horrible, really.

My point is, though I did not relies it- or rather, I didn't want to admit it- I had always regarded Alfred as a child, or maybe I thought he wasn't allowed to grow up if he wasn't in my presence.

But that's not what I want to talk about at the moment, I guess I should apologise for going off on a tangent there. What I really want to talk about was how I dealt with the subject he had brought up that night, while I was on the phone to him. For some reason I felt a burden would be lifted if I poured my heart out to the lad, with my little sob story. Of course that didn't end up being the case, because like I said earlier, I still feel guilty for looking at his medical records.

Either way, I took a deep breath and asked "do you really want to know?" as if I was about to tell the greatest secret ever.

"If you don't mind telling me..." he didn't sound so sure of himself, but I had already made up my mind that I was going to tell him.

I smirked- like I said, I was a brat when I was a teenager- and made him promise not to tell anybody else, because even if I was willing to tell him to get rid of my guilt, it was still something I would have never told anyone but him, and maybe Gilbert. When he promised, I began "well, you know how my real dads a priest?"

"uh-huh,"

"okay, so he's really against sinning,"

"obviously, he's a man of god,"

I scowl slightly, subconsciously "A man of god would abuse his children and get pissed out of his head," I'm not sure if he heard that or not, but he did stay silent until I carried on "...whatever, well, urm..."

I was starting to regret starting the story, a little flush had risen to my cheeks and my stomach was begging me not to go on "Jesus, right, I know that I made you promise before but this is... really secret. I mean it. Only my biological parents know this."

"okay, my lips are sealed Artie, you can trust me,"

"Okay..." I take a deep breath "well... when I was twelve, I started... liking males, as more than friends. a-and-"

"Wait. wait. wait. one, why the hell did you not tell me!? and two, who was it?" I could hear a grin in his voice, it was like a bug spray to the butterflies swarming my stomach.

"Wanker, we had stopped talking when I was twelve, and that bit is... way too embarrassing, I don't like him anymore anyway, so it doesn't matter," I laughed slightly, I think I was truly happy at his reaction, since this part of me had never really given me anything but trouble.

He mumbles something I couldn't quite hear- when I asked about it later he told me he had been kicking his cat, tony, out of his room- before clearing his throat and replying "you should of told me anyways," it was a sort of whine, but only a playful one.

"what, come up to you while you were surrounded with your popular friends and just go ahead and say 'hello Alfred, I'm gay' and then walk off?"

He laughs "yes, yes, you really should have, their faces would have been amazing, oh my god," I remember imagining him holding his stomach because he was laughing so hard, it was a nice feeling being able to make him laugh "okay, carry on,"

I nodded, even though he couldn't see me "right. well, having this little realisation at such a young age was... unusual, and I went to my dad, because this website I found told me I should tell my family first,"

He groans, in a way that made it sound like he was saying 'you dumb idiot' without actually articulating it "never, and I mean never, trust what you read on the internet Artie,"

I laugh, sadly "yeah, I learnt that the hard way, if I knew I probably would have told you first, anyway, my dad, as you can guess, wasn't so happy about this information, and he started going mad at me, saying I was one of Lucifer's sons, and a disgrace," I leave out the part about him hitting me several times, since I felt like that would be too much information "and he convinced my mum I needed a reverse trade, because homosexuality is apparently a mental defect,"

"... That's... horrible..." He sounded completely lost for words, so I carried on.

"Well, the problem was, I couldn't get a reverse trade if there was nobody willing to dentate their life to me, so it was unlikely I would have been able to go through with it, but..."

"but?"

"I suppose it was my fault," I sat back, by eyes had started to well slightly at the memory "Nobody was supposed to tell me what a trade was, that was before we got all the lessons about it at school, and out of frustration I asked my brother,"

I had almost forgotten I was talking to anybody, it felt like I was reading over one of my old diaries out loud.

"You mean Allistor?" he asks. Being my friend, he knew everyone in my family. So be it, at that moment he didn't know the one I preferred to belong to, but he knew my blood relatives. Near our last years of primary school, when we started to feel a bit older and fooled ourselves into thinking we were mature, he started saying how he hated everybody in my family except for me. Keeping in mind, the boy had been there when my father had lost his temper with me time, and time again, it was a reasonable thing to say too.

"yeah, him," my voice breaks slightly "he didn't like how my father was treating me, so when I asked him he went against the rules and told me... in detail, everything about the trades, you know, the stuff teachers don't teach you.

"he was found out, of course, and my farther punishment to him was to make him trade his life for my, well, heterosexuality... the weird thing is, he didn't fight back... anyway, so we did the trade, Allistor basically traded 70% of his life willingly, just to make a point. Then, two years later, he died." my heart sunk at the words, and my voice broke. Stubbornness started to puppet my body, telling me I didn't want to tell anymore, and so I stayed silent until Alfred spoke again.

"I'm sorry. I should have been there for you..."

I shook my head, furiously, as tears started to taint my face "No, don't apologise, just... give me a minute."

and he did, so I carried on once again, with a sigh to clear the darkness building up in my chest "He blamed me for it, my farther, and said he didn't want scum like me in his house any longer. I found my self shrugging and walking out, giving up trying to please him, and I spent the next few days sleeping on a bench in the grave yard, begging Allistor for forgiveness. That's when my new mother found me.

"she was the wife of the man who conducted my trade. I found out later they had been trying for a baby for a long time, and I offered, stupidly, to be their new son, and they... took me in,"