"Kiku, do you think Alfred likes me?" mumbled Ivan out of the blue, seriously, out of the blue, as he and Kiku sat in the back seats with one of Kiku's bosses' driving.

Kiku was giving a ride to Ivan later that day after what would be considered he and Alfred's first 'argument'.

"Do you think Alfred really loves vampires?" asks Kiku staring blankly outside the window.

"Of course he does. He loves vampires. There isn't a day that goes by he doesn't mention his favorite vampires," replies Ivan as he plays with his fingers. Ivan has recently started to question his closeness with Alfred, so it seemed to Kiku. What Kiku didn't understand was what made Ivan ask this out of the blue, especially since he believed Ivan had something against him.

"I've been wondering why he likes his vampires so much," adds in Kiku, "they are such odd creatures."

"Probably because they are very timid and unpredictable," says Ivan.

"Heh. Just like Alfred, huh?" Kiku laughed giving a small chuckle as he rested his head with his hand, the arm reclining against the car door.

"He's very off, isn't he?" asked Ivan. The nervous tone made Kiku raise an eyebrow. How unusual of Ivan.

"He's been very quite to me lately, have you noticed? Very distant," adds in Ivan still playing with his thumbs.

"Well, he is very odd. Lots of things are going thru his mind. You know how he is when he thinks about things too much. He tends to picture very outrageous scenarios. He can be quite self-conscious of what others think of him, mentally. He's very childish, despite how much he is aware of."

"He is quite sensitive," says Ivan in a negative tone.

"Things tend to make a big impact on him, whether it is a harmless compliment or hand gesture. It is neither a good or bad thing. It's what makes him struggle even more with things."

"I wonder if he hates me," says Ivan, "I've done quite a number on him."

Kiku sighs as he reclines his back on the leather seat, crossing his arms as he closes his eyes. Ivan attentively stares.

"It's a little late to make those statements. Whether you both hate each other will not separate you two. You've invested too much into each other. Besides, you cannot hate a person. There are reasons why somebody does not like someone as much as they'd like to," huffs Kiku as he takes in a deep breath.

"Have you ever asked him why he told you first?"

Ivan looked up at Kiku surprised. He understood what he was talking about immediately.

"About Arthur? Not really. I assumed he spoke to me about it because I was alright with hearing those kind of things and I wouldn't react so severely like the rest of you did," said Ivan.

"Right. He's been getting awfully . . . strangle lately," said Kiku a little concerned.

"How so?" asked Ivan, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't think he knows he's trying to rebound."

What's the point of having friends if they never want to hear everything you say?

Alfred sat on a pile of crimson, thick liquid, trickling down from the sidewalk step he sat at. The blood poured from his chest. He stared coldly at Arthur's dead body still lying about 5 meters away from him, face up. Whoever had shot at them and claimed to be madly in love with him was long gone.

Alfred continued making tiny shapes on the step in front of him with his blood that scurried from his arm all the way to his gloveless hand. He kept his eyes narrowed at it.

Nobody exists that wants to know everything about me. I'm important. Very important.

Arthur's body formed a thin pool of blood around itself, the blood seeing into the grass right under his body, feeding the shaded and deserted courtyard.

Why isn't there anybody I can tell all of my feelings and thoughts to?

Alfred stopped; small, bloody hearts stared back at him. Alfred's cold frown twisted into a wicked smile.

I hate all of this.

Alfred stretched at sat up from the stairs. He felt no more pain from his bloodied chest. He had found himself already sitting at the steps.

He walked a good circle around Arthur's dead body. His widen, green lifeless eyes stared back, horrified. He had died confused and scared.

Alfred stared at the dead man's face with an angry frown.

You never cared about me, did you Arthur? All you did was listen and listen and criticize me. You abandoned me when I most needed you. Maybe I was wrong thinking you were so dear to me, as I was to think I was dear to you. Well how do you like it now? Hurt, terrified, and dead. That's how I live every day. Except I'm dead inside. I might be a selfish brat, but you took advantage of my self-centeredness. You bastard!

Alfred kicked at Arthur's waist. He kicked and kicked and kicked until his left boot was filled with blood and clothing.

Panting, Alfred dried his face from sweat with his bloody hand. He smeared blood all over his cheeks as he did so.

Why did I love?

Alfred stared back at Arthur's green eyes.

Why did I love you?

He felt his eyes burn and his throat clogged.

Why did I love you! ?

He began crying and sobbing openly likes a small useless child, covering his eyes with his bloodied hands.

'Stop crying,' said an unknown voice. Alfred looked around wieldy.

"I didn't do it! I didn't do it! I didn't kill him! It was the other ma-"

'You let it happen though. You let him get hurt.'

"What am I supposed to do? Let myself get hurt instead of him? ! I'm tired of suffering alone-!"

'Then tell him. Tell him what you feel,' said the ghostly, young woman's voice.

"But I-"

'Stop making excuses. Nobody else can speak for you, you know? Only you call tell him.'

"But, Ivan and Kiku and all of them know. Why can't they-!"

'It's because only Arthur will believe you. Tell him. You must.'

"I don't want to be sad and alone," said Alfred looking down at Arthur's face.

'You already are pal,' said the woman's voice. Alfred twitched at it.

" . . . I am?" found Alfred asking aloud as he woke up. He stared up at a car's ceiling. He sat up slowly from his dream to look out a foggy window. He then glanced at the cab woman, busy tapping her fingers to the beat of a song.

"Excuse me miss," said Alfred, "how far are we from my home?"

"Oh, I'd say a good hour left."

"WHAT?"

That couldn't be possible. Alfred had a dream; he couldn't be possibly so far off from home. His dreams and nightmares usually lasted a good four hours.

"Say that again Roderich, the annoying boy finally woke from his muttering," said the woman in her headset.

"Roderich?" Alfred asked stupidly.

"Yes, Roderich Edelstein, you got a problem?" asked the girl a little annoyed.

"Elizabethan? "Asked Alfred aloud.

"Don't you forget it either!" she squeaked proudly as she made a mad turn to the right. Everything in the car went to one side, but Alfred quietly sat in place.

"Gees you talk too much in your sleep, really now, stuff a sock in it! You can't even shut up in dreams," mumbled the woman. Alfred nervously sat back.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I've been . . . very confused lately. Yeah," he muttered meekly as he scratched the back of his neck.

"It's alright darling, just promise to stop asking me questions," she said.

"Asking questions? Wait, you were the angel answering me?" asked Alfred baffled.

"Angel? I don't know about that, but yeah, I answered the things you asked aloud. No harm done, right?" she asked.

"Um, Elizabethan, am I . . . hopeless?" asked Alfred. A very stupid question if he say so himself. Already he regretted asking it aloud.

"You're pretty stupid and rash. But you're also very cute and self-conscious. You're not a bad lad. I hope you find happiness in life," she smiled back as she made another mad turn to the left.

Another wish for happiness. How stupid.

"There's no such thing as happiness. Nobody can understand you. Nobody. Why bother with things?" asked Alfred aloud as he turned his attention to the window, sitting behind Elizabethan.

"Why don't you go kill yourself then, Mr. Pessimistic," she giggled. Alfred looked at her confused. She grinned, seeing his startled face reflected on her rear-view mirror.

"I will always live unhappy. No matter what," said Alfred in a loud voice obviously offended.

"Everyone does. Why not make the most of your life? If I told you you were going to be shot if you moved, would you still move and try to get away or stand there stupid and let it happen?"

At this, Alfred remembered his dream. Arthur had been staring terrified up at the sky. Alfred had let him be killed. Instead of one of them going down, he had left both of them go down. A relationship consisted of sharing things and feelings. But, it was unquestionable, that the other person be willing to sacrifice themselves in such a scenario as being shot at. Alfred wasn't angry because Arthur never got 'hurt' and depended on him to take all the 'damage'. He was angry because he never saw any protection in return. Not through his eyes anyway.

The car finally stopped.

"That'll be $80 princess," said Elizabethan sticking her hand out at Alfred.

"WHAT?"

"I'm charging you for advice too. You're pretty stupid, aren't you?" asked Elizabethan with a smiling face.

"Yeah, I guess," muttered Alfred as he shifted thru his pockets for money.

"?"

"What is it?" asked the girl.

"Um, I found ripped cloth," mumbled Alfred as he stared at his hand at the blue cloth.

"Why, that looks like-"

"ELIZABETHAN WHY HAVE YOU STOPPED SPEAKING TO ME?" yelled a loud voice from Elizabethan's head set.

"Oh, sorry Rodi. I'm busy speaking to Alfred here. That's all right, I'll put in on your tab," Elizabethan clicked on a switch that unlocked the door. As Alfred zipped up his jacket and braced himself for the mad dash to his front porch in the thick rain, he felt a hand grab at his shoulder.

"Be careful what you say," warned the girl looking straight at Alfred's eyes in a severe way.

"A-alright," muttered back Alfred nervously before jumping out of the vehicle and slamming it shut.

"Roderich, why don't you wanna tell him you and Yao were at his home? Don't tell me Vash . . ."

"Elizabethan . . . do you believe in true love?"

"Pff! NO," giggled Elizabethan.

"He does," replied Roderich solemnly on the other line. Elizabethan quieted down.

"He wants to find somebody who actually gives themselves completely to him, and vice versa."

"There's no such thing! It's stupid!" nervously answered the girl.

"Try telling that to him," answered Roderich quietly, "he won't hear of it."

"Alfred's ruining his life though, I thought Ludwig would at least try to stop him," said Elizabethan in a saddened tone.

"He has," said Roderich almost in a crying way, "everyone has."

"Someone has to slap sense into him, before he does something crazy like that Christmas episode," said Elizabethan as she started the car. From her window she saw Alfred turn back to the vehicle, under his roof on his porch, waiving back at her, smiling.

"There's no stopping the unavoidable," responded Roderich, "goodnight."

The tone went dead. Elizabethan sighed as she gripped the car's wheel. She honked back at Alfred.

"Poor bastard," she mumbled, smiling sadden as she drove off.

Alfred kicked his wet boots and drenched coat to one side of his living room as he dashed to his bathroom, completely forgotten the pictures he had left up there to dry.

"Shit shit shit!" he huffed as he took them down quickly. Some of them had become wrinkled with liquid.

As he desperately tried waving them dry, he recalled one of the images. He glanced at his left hand. There stared an image of he and Arthur, and the rest of their closest friends. It might have been the only image he had of them. He stared at it almost irritated.

"Maybe I'm meant to be alone. Not even give it a shot," he mumbled. As he sat the pictures on his kitchen table now for them to dry off a little more, Alfred shifted thru his pocket and took out the expired ticked at blue cloth.

He remembered Elizabethan's warning about what he says. What was that supposed to mean?

"Everything is so fucking complicated," he grumbled as he slumped into a kitchen chair and slammed his head on the table, completely tired.

-Ring ring-.

Now what?

-RING RING.-

Shut up.

-RING RING RING!-.

"ALRIGHT ALREADY!" yelled Alfred as he snatched the phone from his kitchen wall.

"Alfred?" answered a strange voice.

"Who is this? When I find out who this is I swear I'm going to-!"

"It's me. Arthur."

Alfred felt his heart stop. He dropped the phone. The cheap plastic clacked loudly on the floor. He felt his jaw drop a little.

"Alfred? Are you there? Answer me," demanded Arthur's voice quietly.

Alfred felt beads of sweat forming in his palms. His breathing kicked up a little.

"Alfred?" asked the voice once more. Alfred picked up the phone and held it to his ear.

"I'm listening," he mumbled trying to pretend to be uncaring and passive. It was working. He trembled as he sat back in his wooden chair.

"Matthew wants to meet up," he said softly, "would you be interested?"

"Tch," Alfred let escape from his mouth.

Is he using Matthew as some sort of reason to meet up with me?

Alfred shook his head.

No, I'm thinking too much. Arthur wouldn't bother to do anything out of his way for me.

"I'd have to check with my boss," said Alfred in a boastful way, "and if I'm not already busy."

"May my boss speak to yours then?" he asked.

Shit. Alfred hadn't thought about that. He recalled how Arthur's boss wasn't really fond of him in the first place.

I can't just tell him no because his boss hates me.

'You've got to stop being a scarety-cat and just do things!' Ludwig's voice pounded in his head.

Ludwig is right.

"Sure kid. When he gets back to his office. He's been away to-"

Don't tell him everything about yourself!

"Yeah, away," muttered Alfred.

"Oh. I see," mumbled Arthur.

"Well I have to go now. I want to sleep," replied Alfred as he yawned.

"Oh. Okay. Take care of yourself."

"Bye," said Alfred as he hung up.

He stared at the phone.

Either Arthur didn't care much for Alfred's replies or he was very good at hiding how he feels.

Does it matter? The bastard'll probably bail on us again. What nerve, not even apologizing to me for last time.

He recalled the mess of cake on his walls.

Alfred kicked at the chair in front of him from his seat and knocked it down. It hit the floor rather hard.

He really lost it bad that time. He couldn't stand it happening all over again.

He wouldn't be able to handle it. He knew that much.

Picking up the phone again, he dialed a number almost engraved at the back of his head.

"Yes? Who is this?" answered a delighted Ivan on the other end.

"Ivan, I need to ask you something. Please give me an honest opinion."

"Alright," he answered softly.

"Arthur just called me, asking Matthew would like to see us."

"Why hasn't Matthew done it before, knowing you really wanted to see Arthur?"

"Probably because I'm crazy. Anyway, he asked to speak to my boss. I really don't want to go."

"Why not?" asked Ivan.

"Because . . . his boss doesn't like me. Besides, he can go see Matthew himself," he said.

"They're at a concert, you know?" said Ivan.

"W-what?" asked Alfred, his voice shaking.

"They're at a concert. Maybe they wanted to see if they can drop by, or really, Matthew."

Alfred bit his lip; the thought of Arthur being with Matthew at a concert, the two . . somewhere . . . without him. He's being left out of the loop again. Left behind. He doesn't like being left behind.

"You knew?" is all Alfred could ask.

"Yes. Who cares. They didn't invite you obviously. He stood you up, remember?" reminded Ivan.

He was right.

"But, I've done it before. Remember? A little before we were separated. He invited me to go to that Rodeo. Something I'd really like. At the last minute, I canceled on him because of his boss. He was pretty pissed, avoiding me for 2 weeks."

"You didn't tell him you cried your eyes out when your boss forced you to cancel on him, did you?"

"N-no," mumbled Alfred, covering his bleeding lip now.

"I suggest you not going to meet them then. Don't do it. Stop being so desperate," advised Ivan.

Desperate. What a hurtful word.

" . . . okay. Seriously, thanks," mumbled Alfred as he hung up before hearing a response. He slowly made his way to the sofa, carrying the pictures in one arm. He dropped his body on the longest leather sofa and looked up at the pictures he held above his head.

He would really like to be with Arthur, no matter what. He'd let himself get shot at, no matter what. He just wished, at least once, Arthur showed a little remorse for him.

"That's never going to come, now is it? He's so popular now, with a kid like Peter wanting to be with him. I used to feel a little sad when he'd be all alone at world meetings, reading and drinking to himself. Now . . . who is the lonely one; the one that enjoys a good book and solitary, or the one who easily smiles at the people around him, wanting to hear only his jokes and mischief?"

He began to cry.

When did I let things turn so sour?

"Ivan, who was that?" asked Kiku.

"It was Alfred. Arthur contacted him. I told him he was at a concert."

"Why did you tell him? It would only make him more upset? !" yelped Kiku in his seat.

Ivan quietly sat in his seat, staring out the window.

"What did he say?" asked Matthew smilingly as he ate some popcorn. He and Arthur sat in a close-up row to the stage of the concert they were attending.

"He'd talk to his boss about it. I knew he wouldn't want to speak with me," said Arthur as he carelessly flipped his phone open and began texting a little.

"I'm sorry. I thought-"

"It's alright Matthew. I knew you meant well. He is just very sensitive. What you and I think as small and meaningless as a casual smile, he thinks of it as a cheap, dime-a-dozen grins we carelessly give away," grinned Arthur at the smaller boy. Matthew smiled back, relieved.

"He cares too much about things," said Arthur as he leaned back at his seat and turned his phone off, the show about to begin.

"Is that always a bad thing?" asked Matthew.

Arthur really didn't know.

'Don't you think caring a lot is wonderful? What I'd give to have a girlfriend who took everything I said to heart! I think that's pretty romantic, don't you?' He recalled Alfred once jokingly telling him.

'Sure, you weirdo,' Arthur had just laughed back at it.

He hadn't realized Alfred had been talking about himself back then.

A/N" Review~!