The A-Z Club
Chapter 12
"Looking for you. Duh." Alfred said. Arthur still stood there, staring at him. Alfred missed those angry, angry eyebrows.
"Why?" Arthur said. He adjusted the position of his bag.
"I was worried about you." Alfred said. Arthur's face didn't soften. "And I was right to worry, you look terrible."
It was true, Arthur's cheekbone was bruised and his lips were chapped and his eyes were bloodshot, his hair looked unwashed, and he looked thinner than ever.
"Why do you care?" Arthur said. "You're not supposed to care. You're not allowed to care. You're supposed to hate me."
"I don't hate you." Alfred said. "I hate what you said to me and did to me. But not you. Even if you are a jerk."
Arthur turned his back on him, and began to walk around to the back of the house.
"Where are you -" Alfred cut himself off and followed Arthur instead, who was already climbing through a small, high window.
"Arthur, will you let me in?" Alfred said. Arthur stood on the other side, staring.
"Please." Alfred said. Arthur rolled his eyes.
"Go back to the front door."
Alfred nodded and rushed around. Arthur opened the door.
The house looked worse on the inside, like someone had started to redecorate but given up after they'd ripped up the carpet and torn down the wallpaper. Arthur didn't say anything, but he could read the look in Alfred's eyes, see the faint pity, poor Arthur, living in a sad, empty, home, poor poor Arthur. He went upstairs wordlessly, not surprised to hear Alfred's heavy footsteps immediately behind him.
"Your little brother is cute." Alfred said, eventually. Arthur turned quickly.
"You've met my brother?" Arthur said.
"Yeah, I came here to -"
Arthur's fist had made contact with his face. He was more shocked than in actual pain, having to grip the handrail so as not to tumble backwards down the stairs. His nose tingled unpleasantly.
"Don't fucking come here and don't speak to my little brother about me. Don't drag him into this you stupid -"
"I'm not stupid." Alfred said. "I'm gonna let that one slide. You should consider anger management."
Arthur gritted his teeth. "I do not need anger management classes!"
"Clearly you do." Alfred said, gesturing to his slightly red nose. Arthur turned into a bedroom. Alfred followed. It was basic but surprisingly neat, and definitely Arthur's judging by the rock posters on the walk.
"Is that your guitar?"
"Yes." Arthur said. He got on his hands a knees and reached under the bed, pulling out a suitcase.
"Do you play?"
"I used to."
"Weren't you any good?"
"I'm not terrible at everything, you know. I was good." Arthur snapped. He threw the wardrobe open and pulled out a pile of t-shirts and dumped them unceremoniously in the suitcase.
"Why'd you quit?"
Arthur chewed on his already sore lips and started putting more clothes in the case. Jeans, underwear, socks, a sweater.
"My stepfather said it was a waste of money." He said. "I carried on practicing but it annoyed him. He grabbed by hand and bent my fingers until they cracked. Said it would be the guitar next time."
He looked at it mournfully, and then took it out of Alfred's hands, putting it with his clothes.
"Arthur?"
"What?"
"I'm sorry I said you were a pathetic drop-out junkie waster." Alfred said. "I really had to tell you that I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, I was angry because you hurt me."
Arthur turned his back to Alfred.
"Arthur?"
"What, Alfred?" Arthur said thickly.
"Are you crying?"
"It's stupid." Arthur said. Alfred walked over to him, and put his hand on his shoulder. Arthur thought about shoving him off, but didn't.
"It's not stupid to cry, like, ever." Alfred said.
"No-one ever says sorry to me." Arthur said. "And the not time someone does, the thing they were apologising for is completely true."
"It's not true at all Arthur." Alfred said. Arthur put his head on Alfred's shoulder and wrapped an arm around Alfred's waist. Alfred let him sink and then wrapped his arm around him. It was an awkward hug, and a physically uncomfortable one, but he enjoyed it.
"I'm sorry, too." Arthur said quietly. "For punching you. And for what I said."
He pulled the hug apart and wiped his eyes.
"If you tell Francis I cried I'll kill you." Arthur said, the corners of his mouth upturned.
"I swear on my life." Alfred said. Arthur zipped up his suitcase.
"Where are you going?"
Arthur shrugged. "I don't know, yet."
"You could go see Francis. Or come with me. My parents wouldn't care. Which reminds me, I gotta text Mattie." Alfred said, digging in his pockets. Arthur watched him text, a small, goofy grin on his face as he did. It made Arthur smile.
"I don't think Francis will want to see me. Or have anything to do with me." Arthur said. "He stopped trying to call me two weeks ago."
"He'll still be happy to see you, Arthur. Pissed off, definitely, but happy." Alfred said. He ran a hand through his hair. "Kind of like I am. I kinda want to punch you for making me so worried, but I want to kiss you too."
"You want to what?"
"Kiss you. On the mouth. With my mouth. Touching." Alfred said.
"You're a dork." Arthur said. He kissed Alfred, quickly, lightly, fleetingly.
"Properly." Alfred said.
"Later."
"So you'll hang around a bit? Like, not disappear?"
Arthur nodded. "I'll go speak to Francis." He says. He was staring at Alfred intensely, trying to figure him out.
"I'll walk you there." Alfred said, grinning. He grabbed the suitcase and straightened his back. "Let's go!"
"Don't you trust me?" Arthur said.
"Not really!" Alfred said cheerfully. Arthur sighed and then smiled.
"Okay. Let's go."
88
Francis pulled Arthur into a tight hug and then hit his chest, with a bit more force than he had intended.
"You look like you were hit by a bus." Francis said.
"You always look like that." Arthur said. He couldn't deny that he had missed Francis, as annoying as he was.
"You smell, too." Francis said. "Go shower. I want to talk about you to Alfred in secret."
"How sneaky." Arthur said. "I expect a hot meal by the time I get out."
"You cannot rush great cooking."
"Well, it's a good job it's but going to be great." Arthur said. He picked up his suitcase and took it upstairs.
Alfred watched him go, making sure he didn't run out the front door.
"Where was he?" Francis said.
"He'd been staying with that guy. And he'd gone home to get some stuff. So I went there."
"You really like him, don't you?" Francis said, an annoyingly worldly smile plastered on his face.
"Yeah." Alfred said.
"Well, I cannot imagine how you will put him with him."
"Do you think he likes me?"
"He doesn't let just anyone upset him." Francis said. He sighed. "He looks awful."
"It's not that bad -"
"Alfred." Francis says. "Lying won't do anyone any good. I don't believe for a second he stayed clean and sober over these past weeks."
Alfred frowned. "You think he -"
"Yes." Francis said.
"I thought..." Alfred shook his head. "He'll be fine, won't he?"
"Arthur is persistent and stubborn and he likes you very much. If this is going to work out, you will have to refrain from silly arguments for a couple of weeks, understand?" Francis said, taking out a saucepan. Alfred nodded.
"No arguments. I got it."
88
Alfred stayed at Francis's with Arthur that night, texting Matthew to cover for him. Arthur slept in Francis's room with Francis, and Alfred had the guest room, all to himself. It was lonely.
He lay awake staring at the ceiling, until the door creaked open, and Arthur slid into bed next to him.
"Hi." Arthur said. "I can't sleep."
"Neither can I."
"I said later."
"What?"
Arthur kissed him, properly this time. Alfred relaxed and kissed back.
"See? I can keep my promises."