Alfred finally relaxed into his new relationship, no longer worrying, no longer thinking. He just accepted and enjoyed the ride. Days past, weeks went by and Winter Break faded. Spring began to creep its way in, thawing the snow Ivan hated so much.

Arthur, though, was still wary. There was this nagging feeling in the back of his head that just would not leave him. Ivan...Ivan meant trouble. No matter how happy Alfred seemed he just couldn't brush it away. Francis didn't share his views and warned him numerous times to "leave the two lovebirds alone". Perhaps he was just being over protective like his husband said. Still...

Matthew was happy for his brother. Alfred seemed to be as carefree as always and he always seemed happiest when dragging Ivan around on different dates. The younger twin was more concerned with his own boyfriend who had thankfully lightened up some. He had returned to his obnoxious loveable self though he still fiddled with his father's old stuff. At least it didn't consume him as much. And whenever he seemed to sadden, Matthew immediately took him out for ice cream, or to somewhere the albino was sure to enjoy himself.

It was a soft breezy morning in early March when Alfred and Ivan were walking about. "And we're gonna dress up as astronauts too! And we'll—" Ivan quieted his boyfriend with a quick kiss, smiling as he pouted up at him.

"Alfred, how will we ever procure astronaut clothing by Monday when the project is due?" Ivan insisted, ignoring how his American boy simply crossed his arms and glared at him.

"I'm just trying to make our Space Race project awesome. Stop being such a downer." He snapped, moving to walk faster without the Russian. Ivan sighed, a small smile tugging at his lips as he hurried after the other.

His arms looped around the slimmer waist when he did catch up, hugging him tightly. He even lifted him off the ground slightly, just to hear the cute little squeak of surprise and see that annoyed glare. He nuzzled into the back of Alfred's neck as he kicked wildly in the air.

"P-put me down! Ivan!" He shouted, squirming about in the grip. Ivan let out a soft giggle, setting him back on the ground after only a moment. He didn't remove his hold around him, though. Alfred turned around, facing the taller teen and sticking out his bottom lip.

"You know I hate it when you do that." He stated, glaring at his boyfriend's chest instead of his face.

"Ah, but you are so cute!" Ivan responded, leaning down so they could look at each other eye to eye. Alfred blushed shyly.

"I'm not cute! I'm handsome. I'm a man, for God's sakes." Alfred glowered, pouting further.

"Hmm? Why don't you prove it, little American." Oh how Ivan loved to ruffle his feathers.

Alfred looked up after a second, giving him a determined look. A playful little smirk tugged at his lips and Ivan knew he was up to something. Something bad, he was sure.

"A man is an athlete. And I can run helluva a lot faster then you." Alfred reminded, the smirk growing as he spoke.

And before Ivan could even reply, the American had bolted down the city sidewalk. Ivan blinked, hearing Alfred's laughs in the distance and frowned. Oh, his little sunflower was not getting away so easily. He started on a run, his scarf flowing freely behind him in the breeze.

"Toris?" Arthur blinked, opening the door for his friend to enter his home, "I wasn't expecting you. Ivan and Alfred went out.." My, the boy was pale! He did not look well at all, "Toris? Are you all right? Come sit on the couch. Francis! Make some tea! Toris seems to be ill." He called into the kitchen, hoping his husband would hear the tone of his voice and not argue.

"I-I'm fine! Really." Toris responded quickly, sitting down in the offered seat. "I'm just a little nervous."

"About what?" Arthur inquired, sitting down in his arm chair. He crossed his legs before giving his guest his full attention.

"I...I have a favor to ask you..." The brunette began, wringing his hands in his lap. He was fidgeting all over the place. His eyes darting around the room, and his feet twitching on the floor.

Francis came into the room, greeting the young man with a smile and placing the teacups on the table. Toris thanked him quickly, but didn't trust his shaky hands to pick up one of the delicate pieces.

"Well, tell us. I'm sure we can help." Arthur pressed, taking his tea and sipping at it. Francis wasn't getting a thank you from him for bringing it. Though, he didn't slap him away when he pecked his lips quickly before sitting down on the couch.

"I...I have an important business meeting. In Europe." He started, keeping his eyes on the carpeted floor, "And..I'm going to be gone for a week or more, I think." He flicked his gaze to the couple, "I was wondering if-if Ivan could stay here while I'm away. I don't know if I should leave him alone for so long..."

Arthur stiffened. Ivan staying at his home, for a week? Staying with Alfred...He didn't even like the two having sleepovers! He wanted none of-of that to start. Alfred was still his baby and he'd be—

"Of course he can stay, Toris." Francis answered with a reassuring smile before his husband could reject. He sent the blond a warning look, telling him to shut up. Arthur glared back but kept his mouth obediently shut. The frog was right, they couldn't just deny their friend aid.

"I-Thank you so much!" The Lithuanian blurted out, lifting his head from the ground. He looked so relieved, like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders, "Don't worry! I'm sure he'll behave and it won't be long!"

Francis let out a soft chuckle, "He is always welcome, Toris. When is the trip?"

"I leave Friday. Thank you, again." The brunette responded, smiling softly at the couple gratefully.

Alfred was out of breath. Not from the running, but from all the laughing he had been doing. His stomach hurt so much! And he was crying too! He wiped at his eyes, lifting his head up to see if Ivan was far away or if he'd lost him. He'd have to go back and hug him or something since the other would undoubtedly be pissed at him for making him run so much. Still, it was the easiest way to see the pale stoic face slightly flushed... He wished Ivan would blush more often, it always seemed like he himself was the only one ever getting embar—

He froze. He hadn't recognized it at first. It looked completely different. But now that he saw the address he recognized it immediately. It was well kept, fixed up, and others would find it a quaint little town home. Alfred saw none of that. All he saw was what it once was, and it terrified him.

Ivan turned the corner and spotted the American. He seemed to have stopped. Finally. Alfred was going to get it when he caught him. Perhaps he could get him to do some fun things again. Ivan smirked at the memories. Oh the they had progressed quite nicely over the past weeks in the bedroom department. Though, they hadn't had full on sex it was still quite nice. And Alfred was very talented with his mouth...

And then suddenly Alfred was running again. But not like before. Not a carefree run full of easy going laughter. No. It was a sudden desperate sprint, devoid of any humor.

Sudden concern flashed through Ivan's violet eyes before he started to run again, ignoring his tired legs. Something was horribly wrong. He'd never seen Alfred run like that.

Alfred wasn't really paying attention anymore. He just ran, staring at the ground beneath his feet. The last time he'd seen that house had been that night. That horrible, horrible night. The night Dad got hurt. Because of him. The night he was scared he'd never see his fathers again. The night he was certain he and his twin would be lost in the alleys forever.

He screamed when a hand grabbed his wrist, turning him around. He fell into the familiar strong chest, recognizing it to be Ivan. The minute he realized this, he clung to his boyfriend, burying his face into the clothed chest. He could feel himself start to cry but he didn't give a damn. Because at that moment he was the little first grader left behind, the little first grader lost in the alleyways, the little first grader pushed to safety while his Dad suffered, the little first grader who cried for his Daddy and Papa to come help him.

"Alfred. Alfred what is wrong?" Ivan asked. He was never good at comforting. He was much too stiff and awkward.

"I don't want to be here. I don't want to be here. I want to go home. I want my Daddy. I want my Daddy. Please don't hurt Daddy. Please stop it. Don't cut him, please." He murmured, his pleas muffled by Ivan's clothing.

"Alfred? Alfred, you are not making sense." Ivan insisted, pulling the American away from his chest to hear him better.

"I can't be here. I can't. Take me home." Alfred begged, wiping at his eyes. He hated this place. He never wanted to come back to this horrible place.

Ivan nodded, shifting the American so he would be easier to lead home. The boy clung to his arm desperately as they hurried back.

Arthur looked up from the book he was flipping through when the door slammed open. It was just Alfred and Ivan, didn't he know better than to damage the wood with his slamming? The boy didn't know his own stren—The Englishman stood up with a start, seeing his son's red tear riddled face.

"What happened!" Arthur shouted, running over to see Alfred's miserable face. He'd never seen him so stricken, well at least not for years! What did the monster do to his baby boy?

Alfred didn't answer, but hugged his Dad tightly. This only heightened Arthur's concern and worry. The boy was bent over practically so he could bury his face in his sweater vested chest. "Alfred. Alfred what's wrong? What did he do?" He asked, bringing his arms around his son, one of them moving run through his hair.

"I saw our house. I saw it. And-And I just started to remember. And I co-couldn't stop and I hated it there!" Alfred muttered, trying to shield his face with his father's body. Why was he getting so emotional! It happened years ago. He should be over this. He shouldn't be reacting like this.

Arthur's eyes softened, "Shh, Alfred, we don't live there anymore. Everything's fine now." He soothed.

"You-You got hurt." Alfred continued, wiping at his eyes. He hated feeling like such a child. "Because of my stupidity you got hurt!"

"What? No! How could it be your fault? The school forced you to walk home! How could you not get lost?" The Englishman insisted. Alfred could not blame himself for what happened.

"But you got hurt looking for us!" The American continued, desperately.

"And I'd much rather have it be me who gets hurt and not you. I'm fine." Arthur assured.

"It scarred!"

"I'm fine." He repeated, wiping his son's face, "Now belt up. This isn't anyway a gentleman should act."

"R-right." Alfred muttered, pulling away and wiping at his own face. He could do it himself, he didn't need his dad doing it for him. "I don't know why it happened. I just...I just felt like shit all of a sudden."

"Language, Alfred." The Brit scolded automatically, "Well, there is news that you might enjoy." Alfred perked up, looking to his father with keen interest. A distraction would be awesome right about now.

"Toris is going away on a business trip for a week." The Englishman began, flicking his green eyes toward the Russian before returning his gaze to his son, "And, during that time, Ivan will be staying with us."

Alfred blinked before his face lit up with a grin, "Really? That's awesome!" He turned to his boyfriend excitedly. Oh this was going to be fun. They would be together for a whole week! The things they could do...

"But! There are rules!" Arthur snapped, getting the two teen's attention once more, "None of you know what! I want none of that in my home or ever!" And you better not have gone that far already.

"Dad-" The young blond tried to interject but was quickly stopped.

"I mean it." The green eyed man gave him a stern glare. Alfred let out a sigh before finally giving a nod. The Englishman proceeded with his own nod of approval.

"Can we go now?" Alfred asked, tugging at his boyfriend's hand. The Brit rolled his eyes before acquiescing, returning to the family room where he had come.

Ivan let himself be taken to the others bedroom, frowning in deep thought. Alfred had been hiding something from him. And he wanted to know what it was. Also, what was this promise that they would refrain from doing anything? He certainly didn't agree to that!

Once they reached the American's bedroom he was about to ask the two burning questions but was interrupted by a kiss. He blinked as he was pushed down onto the bed, Alfred coming down with him. He lay there, slightly confused (though still kissing back because he truly did love when Alfred kissed him) with the American on top of him.

"I thought you said we were not to do this?" Ivan asked between kisses. Not that he wanted to stop, far from it. He wanted to keep going forever and ever. He was always the happiest when Alfred was close to him, and doing this would bring him as close as possible.

"That was just so Dad would stop yelling." Alfred brushed off, sitting up slightly on top of the Russian. "Like I'm gonna pass up such an awesome opportunity." He ran his fingers down the others broader chest before leaning back down for another smoldering kiss.

"Alfred." Ivan said again, pushing his boyfriend away gently. Alfred pouted but obediently stopped and gave him a quizzical look. "What happened? Why did you so suddenly begin to cry?"

Alfred stiffened and frowned, so much for having a distraction, "I...I don't know...That was my old neighborhood... And I kept thinking of that night...And I don't know." He sighed, leaning his head down to rest on the Russian's chest. "I don't know anymore."

"Tell me."

It was a normal Tuesday in April with the chance of a stormy night. Alfred and Matthew's school day had been mostly uneventful but as the clock neared dismissal things got progressively worse.

The teacher sat at her desk, reading a magazine idly as the children worked on their color by numbers math packet. They had to solve the simple problem in order to find what color to use on the portion of the picture. She allowed them to work wherever they wanted and as such most of the students were sprawled on the floor, crayons littering the ground around them.

Matthew bit his lip as he realized he needed a red crayon, one he didn't have. He nudged his brother who lay beside him and asked if he had one. Alfred shook his head, returning to his packet to shade in one section in blue. He was too focused on the assignment to really help.

Matthew peered around the room, seeing that one of the other kids had a red crayon he wasn't using. He trembled slightly before glancing at the clock and seeing that class would end soon. If he didn't finish the assignment the teacher would no doubt yell at him. She would probably yell at him anyway but he still never wanted to incite the anger.

"Ex-excuse me?" He mumbled quietly, timidly. The boy glanced up, giving him a glare. Matthew, however, continued, "C-can I use your r-red crayon?" He asked nervously, pointing with shaky fingers toward the lone crayon. He didn't want to start another fight. The day had been so peaceful.

"I don't want your fag germs on my crayons." The boy spat, earning him a few snickers from his classmates. Matthew's face fell and he bit his lip wondering what he should do. Alfred, though, had stopped working. He hated it when the other students treated them like that and he was sick of it. Absolutely sick of it. He was going to be his twin's hero.

"No." He said, anger slowly coursing through his small frame. "No. You're not using the crayon so let him use it. He'll give it right back." He stated defiantly, ignoring the nudges from his brother telling him it was okay. The other boy raised a brow at him.

"So? I'm gonna use it and I don't want to be infected by your gay germs."

Alfred gritted his teeth, "We don't have gay germs! My brother just wants to use your stupid crayon. Let him use it!" He defended, trying to calm himself before a fight evolved. The teacher wouldn't help him if one did break out and he was dangerously outnumbered. But he couldn't back down., now He just couldn't.

"Yeah, you do. You have two dads who are the devils pawns, and so you've been infected by them. That's what my dad says." The boy argued, standing up in order to intimidate him. Alfred stood up too, absolutely fuming. The boy was an inch taller than him but he held his ground.

"Then your dad's stupid! My dads aren't the 'devils whatevers' or anything!" He yelled back. The other boy shoved him, forcing him back.

"My dad's not stupid! You're just jealous because you have faggot parents!" He shouted.

Alfred shoved him right back in retaliation and soon the two were fighting each other angrily, kicking and screaming, punching and biting. Unfortunately, the other boys soon decided to join in and none of them were on Alfred's side. Well, other than Matthew who had quickly jumped in to aid his twin. The two brothers were horribly outnumbered and the fight soon became a game of "Who Could Kick the Bonnefoys the Hardest?"

To make the situation worse, the teacher simply ignored the scene happening in one corner of her classroom, flipping through her magazine idly. Alfred could have sworn he heard her mutter 'they deserve it'. He wanted to curl up and disappear and never have to deal with any of this every again. But he was more focused with trying to shield his face from the all the legs kicking at his bruising body to keep dwelling on the thought.

Salvation finally came in the form of the dismissal bell as the children abandoned their victims and quickly ran out of the classroom. Alfred sat up weakly with a moan of pain and Matthew followed close to tears. The elder twin quickly wrapped his brother in a comforting hug as the younger sobbed into their clothes. He didn't know how hurt his twin was, but he knew his own lip was bleeding down his chin. Alfred only wanted to stay on that floor with his younger brother forever and never deal with anything ever again. Unfortunately, they were forced to leave when the teacher yelled at them to get out.

Weakly, the pair helped each other up and limped toward the cubbie, grabbing their bags quickly. With difficulty they made it outside, just to see their bus depart without them. Matthew sat down on the steps in defeat, face in his hands as he shook in despair. He just wanted to go home and end this nightmare, but how were they going to return home without a ride?

"D-dont worry Mattie, I'll go ask them to call Dad." Alfred assured and limped as quickly as he could back into the building. He made his way toward the office and waited as the woman at the desk finished her phone call. She hung up and glared at him.

"What do you want, Bonnefoy?" She snapped and Alfred winced, wiping at his watery eyes and bloody lip.

"C-can y-you please call my Dad? We missed our b-bus.." He asked pathetically. The woman continued to glare at him as the phone rang once more.

"Whose fault is that? Look, I'm very busy. You and your sinful brother can just walk home." She spat picking up the phone and answering it sweetly. Alfred felt doom descending upon him. No. No, this couldn't be happening. They needed to be picked up!

"P-please! We d-dont know how to w-walk ho-" He was shushed as she continued listening to the phone call. She glared at him and mouthed a 'get out' while pointing to the door. Defeated, he stumbled out onto the front steps finding his brother where he had left him. Matthew looked up at him expectantly but Alfred only stared at the floor.

"They w-wont call" He hissed, feeling the tears fall down his face again. "They want us to walk." Matthew hugged him close as they sat dejectedly on the cold steps of their school. Everything just kept getting worse and worse.

"Let's wait here. Dad and Papa will come get us when they see were n-not home." The younger reasoned and Alfred nodded. They'd just have to wait it out.
Not even a half hour later they were being threatened once more and were forced to leave the steps. Hand in hand, eyes on the ground they limped and stumbled down the cold streets in no direction in particular. They had no idea where home was and it hurt to move. Alfred didn't know what else he could do.
To add insult to injury it began to rain and the two were soon soaked and miserable. Finally, exhaustion overwhelmed them and they sat down in a sheltered alleyway, huddled close together. Matthew fell asleep but Alfred stayed alert, watching people pass by with umbrellas oblivious to their plight. He wanted his Dad and Papa.

Arthur and Francis were extremely worried. They had come home to an empty house. Usually, Arthur arrived home ten minutes after the twin's did but he had run late and ended up being a half hour. Francis had gotten off work earlier and had come home moments before Arthur. The pair looked around the house, calling the twins' names but still received no answer. Arthur quickly dialed the number of the school only to be told to burn in hell. Furious, he dialed again and was hung up on.

The two jumped into their car in order to drive to the school, it was almost a half hour away and the traffic certainly didn't help. When they reached the school building it was beginning to drizzle. Arthur quickly ran inside, demanding to know where his children were. Finally, after much arguing, the woman at the desk revealed that they had missed the bus and had decided to walk home. Arthur gritted his teeth, he wanted to beat the woman to a pulp but he needed to find his boys first.

He ran back outside to find the weather worsening. He grabbed an umbrella from the car and relaid Francis the new found information. The pair agreed that the Frenchman would drive around to look for the twins while the Englishman searched the area on foot. They couldn't have gone far...right?

Arthur searched the city desperately, calling out his sons' names as the rain hammered down on him. People bumped into him on the streets, some told him to shut up. Those who recognized him sent him disgusted looks; he ignored them all. He needed to find his boys. He need to make sure they were ok. He continued along determinedly, yelling the two names into the increasing darkness. He had almost given up, ready to turn around and try another direction when he heard a faint 'Dad?'.

"Alfred! Matthew!" He called again with renewed vigor and again he heard the weak cry. He looked around wildly until he spotted the ragged looking boy peeking from an alleyway. He rushed toward him, enveloping him in a hug. He dropped he umbrella but he couldn't care less. Matthew was beside his brother and he embraced them both tightly, whispering comforting words as they sobbed into his shoulder. Arthur pulled back reluctantly, anger surging inside him at the state of his precious little boys. He took a deep breath, pulling out his cell phone in order to tell his husband he'd found their sons and to tell him where to pick them up.

"D-dad. Can we please go h-home? I want to go h-home" Alfred pleaded desperately, Matthew nodded in agreement beside him. They were clinging his legs, never wanting to let go. Arthur hung up, pocketing the device before crouching down.

"Don't worry. Everything's fine now. Papa's coming to get us and we'll go home and have some hot chocolate and get you two clean and warm." Arthur soothed, running his fingers through each boys soaking hair. If only the ordeal had ended there.

"Well if it isn't the gayest faggot this town has had the displeasure to meet." A voice sneered from the entrance of the alley. The British man tensed and stood up, turning around to face the owner of the voice. There were three of them in actuality; Arthur recognized them as his neighbors. The scent of alcohol flooded the air. The Brit could sense things were going to only get worse.

"Boys, stay behind me." Arthur ordered, standing in front of them protectively as he glared at the men.

"What's this? You after little boys too, now?" One of them accused, pointing a grimy finger at the twins huddled at his feet. Arthur looked at them with pure disgust.

"How dare you! I would never touch them!" He defended angrily, God was he sick of dealing with this shit. He never wanted to deal with it again. And he especially didn't want his children dragged into this Hell.

"Yeah, but that doesn't stop you from fucking that faggot of a Frenchman." Another pointed out and Arthur was boiling. Absolutely boiling at this point. He was done. He was done suffering.

"I swear if you make fun of my husband again I will make you bloody pay." The British man threatened coldly though he was only met with laughter. He grit his teeth. He clenched his fists.

"Your husband's a sinful piece of shit who deserves to rot in hell along with you!" One man egged on and Arthur lost it. He was tired of being treated this way, to hell with being a gentlemen. He reverted to his teenage years filled with rebellious fistfights and punched the first man square in the jaw. The victim stumbled backward, holding his jaw in shock. The Brit wasted no time in moving forward to punch the next man until the third one kicked him in the shin making him slip to the ground. He stood up quickly and glared at the man, kicking him straight in the groin. The other two had recovered by then and were throwing their own punches. He dodged many but a few landed on him with quite lot of force. A harsh one hitting him in the gut made him double over.

"Dad!" Came an alarmed cry and Arthur whirled around to see the two boys huddled there, watching with wide frightened eyes. He had forgotten they were there. In the moment of distraction he was punched in the gut again and his arms were grabbed tightly. He thrashed angrily in the strong grip glaring at the first man who was holding a dirty shard of glass. He could his bloodshot eyes and his swaying steps proved that he indeed was intoxicated.

"Maybe you need to be reminded of the sin you are." The weapon wielding on snapped, wiping at his bloody nose, "I bet your dear 'husband' wont find you very attracted with Fag carved into your back?" He continued to sneer. Arthur's eyes widened as he thrashed with renewed vigor. They wouldn't! Shit, they would. He wouldn't put it past these assholes.

"Stop it!" He yelled angrily as his shirt was lifted, feeling the piece of glass stab into his skin. He clenched his teeth as they carved a straight line before pulling the shard out. The Brit could feel the blood flowing from the new wound and he yelled again much more desperately for them to stop.

The men ignored him and were about to carve the other two lines that make up the letter 'F" when a light illuminated them suddenly. An angry loud car horn sounded and they dropped the bleeding Englishman before running off. Arthur sat up weakly, clutching his side. He could hear French curses streaming into the air as the culprits escaped. Francis was soon by his side looking at him with fear, anxiety and concern swimming in his blue eyes. He had never seen him so terrified than at that moment. The Brit let his husband help him up and the both of them got the boys safely into the car. Soon they were driving down the road.

At first there was only silence, Arthur clutching the wound on his side, wrapped in Francis scarf. The Frenchman gripped the steering wheel tightly, his other hand holding Arthur's just as desperately. He'd grabbed it and hadn't let go since they got in the car. Arthur made no move to stop him, either. Alfred was the one to break the silence, like usual.

"D-dad. P-please don't make us go back to that school. Please. I don't want to go. It's horrible there and I don't want to go. Please don't make us go!" Alfred begged, new tears flooding his eyes. Arthur could feel the anger boiling within him that he wanted to unleash on that damn school. How dare they hurt his precious twin boys.

"Don't worry Alfred. You'll never see that bloody school again." He spat. Francis looked over at him. Though he did agree that there was no way they could let their children go back to that hell hole after all this. Still, what alternative did they have? The twins relaxed visibly at the news, a weight lifting from their tiny shoulders and they slumped down. Exhausted from the horrid day, they found themselves slipping into a restful sleep.

"Arthur, what are we going to do?" Francis asked quietly, now that the twins were asleep.

"I don't know." Arthur sighed, scowling out the window as his husband drove.

"The house will not be finished for another week or two."

"I know. But I don't want them in our damn house here. It's not safe. Nothings safe here anymore. I can't live like this, even for just another 14 days. I can't." Arthur stated, tightening his grip on his husband's hand. Francis frowned and looked at the road as he thought.

"We could stay in a hotel for the next two weeks... One near our new neighborhood..." Francis said, trailing off as he continued to think about the new prospect.

"Can we afford that?" Arthur asked, frankly anything was better then where they lived now. He had the bruises to prove it.

"I think so... As long as its not too expensive." Francis mused, glancing over to see his husband smirking. He hadn't seen that smirk in a long time. He had missed it.

"Then lets do it. We'll stop by the house, pick up some stuff and go!" Arthur exclaimed with renewed life glimmering in his emerald eyes.

"D'accord." Francis agreed with a small smile.

"So we stayed in a hotel for a while before moving into the new house. And everything was ok after th-that." Alfred finished, unsteadily. "We did go to the hospital for Dad though, even though he insisted he was fine." He was tense and angry at himself for getting so emotional again. He'd done enough of that already.

"I was such an idiot" He hissed. "I could have done something. I could have made the woman call Dad. I could have made sure we didn't wander far from the school. I could have helped Dad against those assholes! But I didn't! Fuck! Now I'm crying" He cursed, wiping at his red eyes angrily.

Ivan kissed him, silencing his protests easily. "You are not at fault." He assured, kissing him again. "It is over. Now kiss me."

And Alfred decided not to argue with that.

I hate this chapter. I just...I just hate it. Orz

At least its long...Unlike the past few chapters...

Hopefully, you guys will like it! Anyways, we're getting into the last legs of the story. And by that I mean like 10 more chapters... I think. And get ready for a curve ball soon.

Anyways, next chapter includes smexy times~

And, I watched HetaOni recently...Is it normal to get so emotional over it? /orz

Review my darlings! Review!

Ihgdfihglfhgihg 950+. Holy shit.