The A-Z Club Chapter 8

Arthur stood outside the library, shielding his face and lit cigarette from the cold and biting wind. It had been unseasonably warm most of the day, but it was freezing now. Arthur felt it was a foreboding sign. His stomach hurt, it felt like acid was wearing him inside out. He wanted to throw up. He saw Alfred and Francis in the distance, and he felt like a trapped animal. He decided it was a stupid idea, in the first place, to ask for help. Especially from Francis. And bringing Alfred into it was even worse. He was a terrible person. He was weak. He should have just dealt with it and stayed at home until he could leave. His mother was right - he really was a burden. He couldn't do this. He couldn't ask for a favour like this. Francis had suggested it first, but it was just an idea. It couldn't mean anything real. He couldn't ask for his parents to suffer his presence. He dropped his cigarette and ran into the library. He grabbed his backpack, and sent Rose a quick and strained smile. She opened her mouth to say something, but she just smiled back warmly. He slipped out through the side door, and he ran.

"Well, he was definitely here." Francis said, stopping short. Alfred stood next to him. They'd met outside the school in silence, and spent the

"How do you know?"

"Cigarette." Francis said, pointing to it on the floor.

"Well done, Poirot."

"Poirot was Belgian."

"Whatever. How do you know it was his?"

"I just do."

"Yeah, but how?"

"I saw him." Francis said. "He went inside. I just thought it would be more dramatic this way."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Can we just go see him?"

"Are you worried about him?"

"Yes." Alfred said. Francis nodded his head, and looked around the library. It was almost completely empty, and it was clear Arthur wasn't there.

"I hope this isn't a stupid game." Francis said.

"It isn't." Alfred said. "He seemed really off this morning."

"Arthur is a good actor." Francis said. "When we were children we would put on plays and make our parents watch. He was a very good Little Red Riding Hood."

"He wouldn't lead us around like this."

"I know him better than you do." Francis said. Alfred wanted to argue, but he knew he didn't have much of a counter-argument. He didn't know Arthur at all.

"I'm gonna ask the librarian if she's seen him." He said, and walked away from Francis. He chose the kindest looking one, an older lady, who smiled brightly at him.

"Can I help you with anything, dear?" She said.

"Uh, yeah. I'm looking for my friend. He's blond and skinny with a lot of earrings."

"Arthur?"

"Uh, yeah, actually. Is he here?"

"He was here. He left five minutes ago." she said.

"Oh. Did he say -"

"No. But he's here often." The librarian said.

"Thanks." Alfred said. He went to tell Francis who rolled his eyes.

"He'll probably have got bored and gone to the club." Francis said.

"Then let's go." Alfred said.

88

He almost screamed, when he turned on his light to see someone sleeping in his bed. Instead, he closed the door slowly and quietly and took a couple of steps forward.

It only took him a few seconds to realise it wasn't a narcoleptic burglar, but Arthur.

Arthur was asleep on his bed.

He'd walked around for two and a half hours, searching every place that Francis could think off, and there he was, in his bed.

He watched him for a few seconds. His boots were placed nearly by Alfred's bedside table, but his coat was on, and he was rumpled and twisted in Alfred's bedcovers. How long had he been here? How had he gotten in?

"I let him in."

Alfred whipped around. "How long have you been stood there?"

He hadn't heard the door open. Or close again.

"A few seconds." Matthew said. He turned the light on.

"Why are you always so quiet?" Alfred said. "And when did you let him in?"

"After school. I came home and he was asleep on the doorstep."

"Really?" Alfred said. "I've been looking for him all evening."

"He's been here." Matthew says."I told you he wasn't so bad. You two seem close."

"I tutor him."

"Okay, Alfred." Matthew said. He had a disbelieving look in his eyes.

"Mattie. You can't tell mom or dad, ok?"

"I'm not an idiot, Alfred." Matthew said. "He looks like he could do with something to eat."

"I could, too." Alfred said.

"I'll make us all something." Matthew said.

Alfred went back to watching Arthur sleep.

He sat on his knees by the bed.

"Please stop staring at me." Arthur said. "It's bloody creepy."

"Oh. I thought you were asleep."

"That doesn't make it any less creepy." Arthur said. "Sorry I slept in your bed."

"It's ok." Alfred said. Arthur sat up, still yawning. He was still tired. "Why did you leave the library?"

"I changed my mind." Arthur says. "I know Francis will kill me if I...well, I'll tell you later. But first...I...I actually just wanted to talk to you."

"Just me?"

Arthur nodded. "You can't tell Francis, though."

"Why not?"

"Just don't. This isn't any of his business."

"Ok." Alfred sat on the bed beside him. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No. I have a plan." Arthur said. "I want to go home."

"You hate -"

"Real home."

"How are you gonna do that?"

"I have a plan, and that's all you need to know for now." Arthur said.

"Ok. You'll keep in touch though right? You can email and call and even write. If you want to." Alfred said.

"I will." Arthur said. He took his coat off. "Your brother is really nice." He said.

"Yeah, I know. I mean he's gotta be awesome if he's my brother."

Arthur smiled. He kissed Alfred, a bit suddenly and slightly too hard, so Alfred jolted away.

"Sorry," Arthur said.

"No, I want you to kiss me again." Alfred said. Arthur obliged, daring to slide his hand up Alfred's t-shirt. He flinched when Alfred did the same, and moved away.

"How come you can touch me but I can't touch you?"

"My ribs are sore." Arthur said. "I just don't like being touched."

"Why are they sore?" Alfred said.

"My stepfather. The other week."

"Let me see."

"No." Arthur said. "You're worse than bloody Francis."

"We're both concerned about you."

"Why? There's no point in being concerned about me. I'm just..." Arthur stood up.

"I'm not gonna stop caring about you just because you have a weird inferiority complex. Now take off your shirt." Alfred says. For a second, Arthur looked angry, but then he laughed.

"Now you really sound like Francis." He said, he pulled at the t-shirt. "Don't overreact."

"I won't." Alfred said. Arthur pulled the t-shirt over his head. Alfred stared at the deep purple pink bruises on his ribs. "Arthur they could be broken."

"They're not." Arthur said. "I've broken them before. I know what it feels like. I'm just sore."

"I read that you can not even know you broke them and then the broken bone impales an organ and you bleed to death inside out. It's a thing that happens." Alfred says. Arthur smiled and put his t-shirt back on.

"It won't happen." Arthur said. Matthew came back in the room, carrying a tray.

"You should do this more often." Alfred said.

"I cooked for Arthur, not you." Matthew said.

"Oh thanks. Real nice." Alfred said, taking the tray from Matthew.

88

"Wait. Wait, stop. Arthur." Alfred said, pushing him away. He wasn't going to deny that Arthur's mouth on his neck and his hands on his dick felt nice, but it didn't feel right.

"What?" Arthur said, rolling into back.

"I want my first time to be special." Alfred said.

"With someone else?"

"No. Just more of a romantic setting, that's all." Alfred said. "Like a cabin in the woods, with a fireplace with logs I cut myself..."

"That's a bit gay." Arthur said.

"And this isn't?" Alfred said, kissing Arthur again. Arthur rolled his eyes, and rubbed his hands across Alfred's abs. "I understand, Alfred. I was fourteen and in the backseat of a car when I had my first time."

"Really?" Alfred said. "Can we just cuddle."

Arthur nodded, Alfred led on his chest, reaching his arm out to the off the lamp, and plunging them both into darkness. Arthur stroked his Alfred's hair, which tickled his chin.

"Alfred?" He said. "Why were you in detention that first time?"

"I don't want to tell you." Alfred said. "You didn't tell me."

"I was smoking in the bathroom." Arthur said. "It can't be that bad. What did you do?"

"When I was changing for gym...some of the guys were picking on this kid. And I wanted to stop them. But I just joined in. I was the only one who was caught, when Coach Benson walked in. I was given detention for bullying." Alfred said. "And I feel really bad about it."

"Oh." Arthur said.

"He hasn't been in school since it happened. I can't even apologise." Alfred said. Arthur kissed Alfred's forehead. "Do you think I'm a terrible person?"

"No. Not at all, Alfred." Arthur said. He wrapped his arms tighter around Alfred wriggled down to be at the same height, nose to nose. He closed his eyes. "I'm tired." He suppressed a yawn.

"Artie?"

Arthur opened one eye. "Artie? Really?"

"Yep. It's a nickname." Alfred said.

"Hm." He closed his eye again.

"Artie?"

"What?"

"I think I love you."

Arthur missed a beat. "I love you, too."

Alfred didn't open his eyes when he woke up, but stretched out his arm to wrap around Arthur. His arm fell through thin air. He sat up like a bolt, and grasped for his glasses. Arthur was pulling a t-shirt on, half tucking it into skin tight jeans, and then he pulled a hoodie over it. Alfred watched him in silence. He put his coat on.

"Where are you going?" Alfred said, finally.

"I don't know. Away." Arthur said, putting his boots on. He swung his bag over his shoulder.

"You can't just leave." Alfred said. "Not after last night."

"Then come with me."

A/N: idk where I'm going with this. It got away from me. This fic has a life of it's ownnnnnnn.

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