Author's Note: I promise the chapters get longer. Somewhat.
Alfred sat in the car for a little over half an hour, listening to the radio with the volume turned up to an almost ear-splitting level, and by the time Matthew exited the building – thankfully without Arthur Kirkland – Alfred still hadn't come to terms with the fact that any of that had actually happened.
Matthew turned the radio off the moment he got into the car, and while he buckled himself in, he didn't pull out of the parking lot. "Put the car in gear or I'll do it for you, busted shoulder or not." Alfred said scathingly, eyes darting back toward the rehabilitation center, somewhat worried that Arthur would come out after all. "Matt, what the hell are you doing?"
"You do realize what you just did, right?" Matthew said, turning his head to stare at Alfred incredulously. "What is wrong with you?"
"My shoulder hurts and I'm fucking tired, that's what. Now drive!"
His parents weren't happy. Matthew had always been King of the Narks and headed right for their dad's study when they got home, and while Alfred hadn't expected him to keep quiet, he was still fairly annoyed.
"Alfred, what possessed you to walk away from your soul mate?" His mom barked at him constantly while his dad and Matt stood at the sidelines. Even when Alfred was struggling to make a bowl of cereal with one arm, they kept their distance. "Your brother said he was a nice man!"
Alfred laughed humorlessly. "Tch, well, I guess my brother knows my supposed soul mate better than I do. I heard Matt say he was twenty-three or something. Aren't you concerned? I'm only seventeen. Any relationship between us wouldn't even be legal for another year."
"Al, that's not – "
"No way, you're not even concerned at all! See, this is why I hate the whole clock thing. Everyone falls into the arms of whoever they're looking at when the timer goes off without knowing a thing about them. Arthur could be a serial killer for all you know, and you wanted me to swoon over him, are you serious?"
"Honey, are you concerned about the age difference between the two of you? Is that what this is about? Or is it because you're both men?"
"Jesus Christ, Mom, no! I don't care about the age gap, but you should, as my parents."
"And it's not about Arthur being a guy, Mom. Al couldn't care less about that. You really should've seen his face when Arthur started talking. If the timers hadn't gone off, Al would've jumped him right there."
"Shut the fuck up, Matt!"
The next morning, Alfred was able to peel the clock from his skin, almost like a scab. The blue-eyed teenager was so relieved to be rid of the damn thing, but the skin beneath the clock was so much paler than the rest of his body, a glaringly obvious abnormality that would elicit congratulations from anyone who saw it before it tanned and faded away completely.
If he had his way, Alfred would have forgotten about the incident completely and moved on with his life – single, since the rest of the population believed in the timers and wouldn't settle for love of their own choosing. He was completely fine with that, but then his mom announced that he would be going back to rehab whether he liked it or not, and Alfred realized it wasn't going to be that easy.
No amount of protesting he did could deter her, and by lunchtime, he found himself face-to-face with the man he'd walked out on just the previous day. His mother apologized profusely on his behalf, which only served to frustrate Alfred and make Arthur uncomfortable.
"He's been stressed out ever since he was injured." She gushed, treating Arthur as if he were already her son-in-law. "Don't take anything he says too seriously."
"Mom, if you don't leave right now I'm gonna continue to be passive aggressive towards you for the rest of my life."
Arthur didn't seem to know what to do with him. Their sessions were quiet and tense, Alfred determined to do whatever he could to diminish what little interest Arthur might have had in him. He refused to let the man touch him and only marginally followed his advice where his shoulder was concerned. The teenager hoped Arthur and the rest of the staff at the rehabilitation center would eventually just get so frustrated with his behavior that they would either reassign Alfred or tell him to never come back.
But it didn't happen. No matter how hard Alfred pushed, Arthur didn't rise to the challenge. He did become frustrated with Alfred's behavior on numerous occasions, but he never brought up their situation and went out of his way to hide the lightened skin that had previously been covered by his clock. Alfred wasn't sure if Arthur was just waiting for him to drop his guard or if he'd given up on the soul mate idea after spending an hour alone with Alfred. His uncertainty only encouraged him to continue being as difficult as possible.
His family didn't understand. His friends didn't understand. No one seemed to grasp the concept that Alfred wasn't going to allow his life to be determined by some stupid numbers and a series of beeps. He was seventeen, for fuck's sake! He had mountains to climb, a world to discover, countless of mistakes to make; all that sentimental bullshit that came with adolescence.
Alfred refused to be tied down, least of all to some passive limey who couldn't even tell when his presence wasn't wanted.