Arthur woke up before Alfred. For a few minutes, he sat up in bed and watched Alfred sleep. It was the only time he shut-up for more than a few seconds, and, as much as it annoyed Arthur to be constantly badgered, he felt like waking Alfred up. He didn't. Alfred looked tired and stressed out and he had a small frown on his forehead as he slept. Arthur kissed the exact spot where it wrinkled, and then crept out of the room. He had no idea what time it was and had barely any concept of what day it was. His body ached, his head throbbed, and he felt queasy and wasn't sure why.

"You promised him you wouldn't leave." Francis said. He was up and dressed, his hair irritatingly shiny.

"I'm not leaving." Arthur said. "I was going for a piss."

"So vulgar." Francis said. "You're lucky to have him."

"I don't have him. He isn't mine."

"It does not seem that way."

"He's nice now. He wants to be with me now. He'll hate me eventually. Everybody does. In a day or a week or a year -"

"Arthur, would you shut your mouth and open your eyes?" Francis said. "I clearly do not hate you, neither does Alfred. Yes, your stepfather is an asshole and your mother...your mother has changed and not for the better, but Peter, and your other brothers, and your father -"

"I barely get any emails from them anymore. "

"Do you email them first? You can't pin everything on them." Francis said. "I know it's not easy for you and I should not lecture you, but I am beginning to lose my patience."

"Then lose it." Arthur said, "Because it'll only prove my point. And I can leave."

"You promised you wouldn't leave."

Alfred stood in the doorway, just behind Arthur.

"I thought you were asleep." Arthur said.

"It's hard to sleep when you two are going at it like wolverines." Alfred said.

"Arthur isn't going anywhere, Alfred." Francis said. "Are you?"

"No." Arthur said. "I was being an arse."

"Good!" Alfred said. "What time is it?"

"Six-thirty." Francis said.

"Why are you dressed at six-thirty on a Sunday?" Alfred says, rubbing his eyes. "I don't even know why you're awake at six-thirty on a Sunday."

"I really do need to piss." Arthur said, skirting around Francis and down the hall.

Alfred waited until the door slammed closed.

"What were you arguing about?"

"You." Francis said. "Do you want breakfast?"

"You were arguing about whether or not I wanted breakfast?"

Francis shook his head.

"Come downstairs," he said. "I'll tell you."

"Sure. Let me grab my glasses."

Alfred stood against the wall, watching Francis cook, and listening to any sign of Arthur trying to sneak out. He said he was just going to get dressed. Alfred wasn't sure whether or not he believed him.

"You love Arthur." Francis said. "And he loves you. Sadly, he does not believe you love him."

"Do you really think he loves me?"

"He would not be here if he didn't, Alfred." Francis said. "I need to know that you won't upset him."

"Why?" Alfred said. "You're not in love with him, are you?"

Francis laughed.

"Of course not, that is disgusting. He's like my younger brother, and he is my best friend." Francis said. "And you wouldn't like anyone to upset your brother, would you?"

"No." Alfred said. "I'm not gonna upset him. I like him."

"Are you talking about me again?" Arthur said, walking in.

"You're not that interesting." Francis said.

88

Alfred stood on the doorstep.

"I'll be back tomorrow after school." Alfred said. "You better be here."

"I will." Arthur said. "Unless Francis has bored me to death. He wants to watch some film tonight."

"That doesn't soon too bad."

"It's in French."

Alfred grinned. "That does sound bad."

Arthur kissed him.

"Promise you'll come tomorrow."

"I promise." Alfred said. "Pinky promise you'll be here."

Arthur held out his hand and Alfred wrapped his finger around Arthur's.

"There. Impossible to break." Alfred said. "Or you will be cursed for ever."

"Have a good day at school tomorrow, Alfred ."

"Thanks, but I probably won't."

"You like school."

"I accidentally started a rumour that we were dating."

"Are we?"

Alfred swallowed. "I...well, I want to."

"I do too." Arthur says. "Properly this time."

"No bets?"

"No bets ever." Arthur said. He kissed Alfred on the cheek. "You should get home."

88

Arthur did nothing all day. Well, that wasn't the entire truth. He spoke with Francis's parents at the breakfast table. Francis's mother said she'd have to call Arthur's mother, to let him know he wasn't lying dead by the side of a road somewhere, but he was welcome to stay for as long as he needed. Francis's father didn't seem to mind much either way. Arthur wasn't about to admit it but he enjoyed sitting at the table with Francis's family. Even if they had a habit of lapsing into French before remembering that Arthur's French consisted of a few textbook phrases and a handful of curse words. Arthur liked the sound of their voices, that he could eat a meal without arguing or whining or being berated. And if those things were going on he didn't understand it so he didn't mind all that much. Soon enough, they had all left.

"Make yourself at home," Marie said, kissing him on the cheek. "You live here now, too."

Arthur smiled and nodded, but when they had all left he had no idea what to do with himself. Well, he knew exactly what he wanted to do, and he felt nauseated when thinking about how he'd never doing it again. He wasn't going to smoke or drink or take drugs again. He decided. Well, maybe he'd smoke. And drink. Only on special occasions.

This was his last chance, and he wasn't going to mess it up. If not for himself, then for Alfred.

So, he led on the sofa and did nothing. He thought, briefly, about going upstairs and attempting to tune his guitar, but it had been a long time. He'd probably be crap at it.

He flicked through the television channels, before settling on something about rich housewives who argued with each-other all the time. Arthur told himself it was okay to watch junk-food television, he was doing it in the name of anthropology.

Plus, he really had to know what happened next.