Chapter 7

Matthew took a deep, bracing breath and opened his bedroom door. He tried to feel confident, but he was flashing back to all those days where he had seemed invisible, as if he were just a ghost in his own life.

His smart, stylish, handsome roommate, who was most definitely never overlooked, glanced up from a travel magazine he was perusing as he sat in the plush armchair.

"I'm glad you've come back. I was worried I might have upset you," Francis said. Maybe Matthew was imagining it, but Francis looked a little guilty almost. "I would hate for us to become like that silly pair down the hall, what with Prince Priss always locking out poor Alfred."

"N-no, I'd never lock you out. I was hoping we could talk a bit, though. I was v-very embarrassed earlier," Matthew confessed. He sat down on the edge of his bed, clutching a big, fluffy white teddy bear that his mother had given him as a birthday gift several years before. Francis had never teased him about his affinity for the stuffed animals, and so he'd finally unpacked a few and liked to cuddle with them when he was relaxing on his bed.

"It was not my intention to embarrass, but I see no reason to be bashful about such things. I am attracted to you, and I think you are attracted to me too, no?"

"Well, yes, but…I don't want you kissing whoever you please."

"I don't want you flirting with Alfred Jones, so it would seem we're at an impasse," Francis replied, though he smiled to soften his words.

"So…do you want to go out?" Matthew asked, nearly squeaking on the words.

"Would it make you feel better about kissing if I was your boyfriend?" Francis asked in reply. Matthew nodded, his pale eyes shining.

"I just…like being seen by you. I don't want you to ignore me. Everyone else can ignore me, but as long as you see me, I'll be happy."

Francis smiled, closing his magazine and setting it aside. He slowly crossed the room, sitting beside Matthew but not invading his personal space this time.

"Ignore you? I haven't been able to take my eyes off you since you got here. I never expected my roommate to be someone so pleasing. You speak French with such a cute accent, and you are not afraid to be who you are. You dress well, you have eyes like the stars back home, you are soft-spoken and alluring…not overbearing like so many here. Matthew, I am very fond of you. Surely you realize this?"

Somehow, the bear was pushed aside, forgotten, and Matthew leaned forward, pressing his lips gently against Francis's soft smile. His romantic roommate tilted his head to the side to improve the kiss, drawing Matthew in like a moth to a flame.

Feeling suddenly shy, Matthew pulled back and blushed under Francis's adoring gaze.

"Thank you for your first kiss. I will treasure it," Francis said sweetly, tucking Matthew's wayward curls behind his ears.

All Matthew's doubts about Francis vanished like smoke. Francis was suave and romantic and absolutely perfect. Matthew had never imagined himself with such an amazing boyfriend, but now he had him, and he was on top of the world.

USUK

Alfred was allowed to go visit the gym during second period, which unfortunately was not a period he shared with Arthur. Perhaps if Arthur had been there, he could have distracted his friend, or offered some much needed advice, but as it was, Alfred went to the gym alone that Monday morning.

Like an energetic puppy, he bounded from one table to the next, picking up fliers, magnets, T-shirts, and buttons. Some clubs promised vouchers for nice restaurants to freshmen that joined, while others offered funny things like an upperclassman as a slave for the day.

One table, however, needed to do no recruiting. The rugby/American football table hadn't bothered making posters or signs. Instead, they merely placed the biggest, shiniest trophy Alfred had ever seen next to their signup sheet. It was a championship trophy they had won the previous year against local competition in Moscow, and it was absolutely beautiful.

Of course, Alfred had seen bigger and shinier ones—in the personal office of his father, who had his college football trophies preserved forever in airtight glass cases while his Nobel Peace Prize dusted over in the bottom of some random box. Alfred knew this was the table he was destined to approach, and he knew this was the team he had to join, no matter what.

They snickered as he came up to the table, but Alfred was used to that. He summoned his best smile and tried to walk straighter. The jocks grinned like hyenas eyeing an approaching gazelle.

"I'd like to join," Alfred said, without pre-amble. "I know I'm pretty lightweight, but I'll work hard. I won't ever miss a practice," he promised. The burly, athletic boys laughed, and tossed a clipboard at him. Alfred fumbled to catch it, nearly losing his glasses in the process, but the clipboard slipped to the floor with a clatter. The team laughed. Blushing, Alfred picked up the clipboard and saw that it was a sign-up sheet for try-outs.

"We're pretty selective about who we invite to try-outs, but we always need a good towel boy. Besides, you're President Jone's kid, right? Once we rotate to the campus in the states next year, we expect all kinds of perks from you, got it?"

"Err…You mean I can sign up?" Alfred asked, too afraid to hope. The rugby team rolled their eyes collectively at him, and an older, mean-looking boy flicked a pen at Alfred's forehead. It bounced off harmlessly, but it certainly wasn't a very polite thing to do. Alfred scrambled to pick it up, as he'd done with the clipboard.

"Yeah, four-eyes. Sign your name, show up to try-outs, and we'll see how fast you can run with towels and water bottles. You'll have to get through next week, too. We won't make it easy on you," the Captain said. Alfred eyed their awesome looking leather bomber jackets with envy—each of them had a number on the back, as well as a rugby patch on the arm. Everything about them just looked awesome.

"Okay! I'll be there! And I'll run really fast, like the fastest you've ever seen!"

"Leave. Now," the Captain barked. "You're blocking future players."

"Oh, sorry! Sure thing, Captain. Thanks, guys! This is gonna be great!" Alfred turned to leave, but a harsh, mocking voice called him back.

"Hey, fucktard, bring back the clipboard!"

Alfred was shocked by the older boy's insult, but he thought of his father and bit his tongue. Maybe that was just how older boys joked. He could be like them if he tried hard enough, even if it didn't feel so great.

"Sure…err…dickface. Here ya go," he said unsurely. The other boy snatched it from his hand with such force that Alfred flinched, but the Captain put a bracing hand on his teammate's impressive fist.

"He's just a spaz, Mike. Wait till next week. We have our reasons for letting him join, remember?" the Captain half-whispered this, but Alfred was able to hear most of it. He frowned in confusion.

Mike smiled nastily and sat down.

"Right. You've got attitude, kid. I think you'll really fit in. Don't miss try-outs, alright?" the Captain said, addressing him directly. Alfred's hopeful smile returned, a little unsure, but present nonetheless.

"Yeah, sure thing! Bye guys!"

Once he had left, the rugby team members shared looks of malicious glee. Only one, a quiet though very tall Swedish boy remained blank-faced and collected, his blue-green eyes assessing Alfred as he left.

Alfred's next stop was at the French Club's table. After all, where better to meet cute French girls than at their club? Unsurprisingly, he bumped into Francis.

"Alfred, are you lost? These are all the cultural appreciation clubs," Francis said. Alfred grinned mischievously.

"I know! I'm here to join the French club…ya know…to meet girls," Alfred explained in a not-so-quiet whisper. In fact, the girl from his science lab that had rejected him so brutally was now picking up a brochure for the French club. She sneered at Alfred after overhearing his statement and abandoned the brochure, hastily moving away. Francis sighed.

"Hopeless," The blond muttered quietly before thinking of Matthew. His cute little boyfriend would not want him to treat Alfred unkindly. "Alfred, allow me to give you some advice." Alfred, however, was now leering at the girl behind the French Club's table.

"What's up, beautiful?" Alfred asked, smiling cheesily at the pretty brunette girl, ignoring Francis for the moment. The girl arched a thin, perfectly waxed eyebrow at Alfred, unwilling to play nice even if it meant recruiting another member.

"Alfred. Stop. Please…before you hurt yourself. You want to meet girls? Join that club, right over there," Francis pointed to the Student Council table, where he knew Arthur's name appeared on the sign-up sheet. Arthur visited the gym during first period, and Francis had looked for at least one club to share with his old childhood friend…if only for more opportunities to show him up. Arthur had only signed up for the Craft Club and the Student Council, and Francis wasn't about to sit in the library knitting doilies once a week just for the chance to tease the fussy Brit.

"The Student Council? But…that's for smart kids. Just 'cause my dad's a politician doesn't mean I know anything about all that stuff…" Alfred said doubtfully. Francis, however, confidently steered him closer.

"The Student Council has nothing to do with politics, really. Sure, some of the members are elected to their posts, but it's really about planning school events. Girls love to plan events. You'll be in a club with all the girls that plan the dances and yet have no dates to ask them to attend. You will be ridiculously popular."

"Are you sure? I don't know…"

"I'm always surrounded by girls, no? Trust me, Alfred. The Student Council will be a good fit for someone as energetic as you. It will give you a chance to meet lots of students, and Arthur and myself have joined as well."

"Really? I can meet girls and hang out with Arthur? Sweet! Thanks, Francis! Man, this is awesome. I really didn't want to have to learn about France. You're a lifesaver!"

"You are…so very lucky to be such a dear friend of Matthew's. Run along now. The Student Council awaits!"

Alfred went bounding off, just as Francis had instructed, allowing the charming blond to share a look of exasperation with the brunette French girl back at the French Club's table.

"Merci for that. I really can't say that enough," she said. Francis smiled and leaned against the table.

"You are very, very welcome. I look forward to seeing you at the club meetings. Now that I'm closer, I can't help but notice…are you wearing L'Heure Bleu? You have the aroma of home. It is making me homesick for Charente."

"Oh! You are the freshman Marquis, are you not? I expected you to be handsome, but I did not expect you to have such refined taste. That's rare for someone so young," she flattered. Francis smirked, leaning in a little closer.

"Not so young as all that," he replied. Then, with a charming grin, "Unless you like freshmen. Then, I promise you, I'm the very youngest."

She giggled, admiring the very expensive clothing Francis wore and appreciating him for many of the same reasons Matthew did. Speaking of Matthew, as second period had officially ended five minutes prior, the students visiting during third period had found their way into the gym…Matthew among them.

From several tables away, he held on tightly to his bear book-bag and watched with hurt violet eyes at the boy he'd spent all the previous night kissing charmed the secretary of the French Club with heart-breaking ease.

USUK

Matthew fled the gym with tears in his eyes, and was running so hard he barely noticed when he barreled past Ivan and Alfred, who had met up as Alfred was leaving the gym and Ivan was entering.

"What the heck happened to Matthew? We gotta go check on him. He might need our help," Alfred said. Obviously in a curious mood, Ivan agreed to tag along. The two boys trailed Matthew to the courtyards, where a familiar scene was playing out.

"Oh, man! I forgot those guys were allowed back at school this week!" Alfred exclaimed. The boys who had previously threatened Matthew had circled around him like vultures in the grey, overcast courtyard, which apparently was the spot they hung out in when they were ditching class. Alfred started to advance, but Ivan stopped him easily with a huge hand.

"These are the guys who beat you up and threatened Matthew…merely because he is homosexual, da?"

"Yeah," Alfred confirmed, still straining a little against Ivan's hand. "And we really need to help Matthew. They'll hurt him!"

"Let me handle it," Ivan said, a down-right sinister look on his face. Surprised by how bloodthirsty the towering boy looked, Alfred finally ceased struggling against him.

"Err…this probably isn't the time or place, but I heard you were in the Russian mafia. It's not just a rumor, is it?"

Ivan flashed him a happy grin. "Not a rumor. I'm going to really enjoy this. Watch me crush them—you might learn something."

Alfred could only trail helplessly in Ivan's wake as he crossed the courtyard, making their presence known. The bullies instantly changed their attitude.

"We weren't giving him trouble! We don't want to be—" the boy was about to say 'suspended,' but he was unable to finish his sentence due to the massive fist that buried into his jaw. The kid fell like a sack of bricks, unresponsive and bleeding sluggishly on the ground.

"Holy crap!" Alfred squeaked. His voice cracked embarrassingly, but nobody noticed.

"My name is Ivan," the Russian boy got his hands on another one of the bullies, and he twisted his arm painfully around behind his back. "Is it not polite in your country to say hello to someone who introduces themselves?"

"H-hello! Hello! For fuck's sake hello!"

"Da! Much better. As I was saying," there was a harsh, cracking noise as the boy's arm gave way and snapped cleanly. He screamed. "My name is Ivan, and I fuck other boys. I've been told you have a problem with this."

"N-no problem! Just let us go!" This was said by a junior who was now struggling to run, but couldn't because Ivan had a firm fistful of his jacket. Matthew and Alfred watched on in wide-eyed horror.

"I'm so glad this was all just a misunderstanding. You see, I thought you had a problem with me fucking my sweet little boyfriend," Ivan said with an innocent, child-like smile. The last remaining bully began to cry and the smell of urine assaulted their noses. Ivan lifted the boy, actually lifted, him off the ground and turned him mid-air, so he could see Ivan's grin.

"Tell me, if I don't break your neck right now, would you suck my cock?"

"Y-yes! A-anything! Just let me go!"

Ivan dropped him, a pitiful pile of shaking limbs and piss.

"When your friend wakes up, you tell him that you are all leaving this school. If you talk about what I did to you, my father will find you. He's not as nice as I am. Also, let your friend know you begged to suck my dick right after you pissed your pants, da?"

"Alfred, let's go," Matthew whispered, crying steady, silent tears. Alfred was shaken up, but he finally recovered his voice.

"Ivan…you can't just go around breaking people's arms, man! They're gonna kick you out of school! I know they're annoying and violent, dangerous even, but…"

"No buts, American. They are stupid, simple creatures. They've got rich mommies and daddies, but there's only one language they understand, and that language is pain. See? I said you might learn something, and now you have."

"You're wrong!" Alfred insisted. "Ivan, you're my friend, but I'm reporting this. You need help—counseling, or therapy or something! You just broke his arm!" Alfred insisted.

Ivan stared at Alfred as if he had just transformed into a unicorn. "After what you just saw, you threaten to report me?" Ivan clarified. Not backing down at all, even though Matthew was now sobbing quite loudly nearby, Alfred shakily took a step closer to Ivan, blue eyes shining.

"They need medical treatment now. We aren't leaving them here. They may be bullies, they may have even deserved that, but what you just did was as bad as them bullying Matthew—worse even!"

"We'll leave, and we won't talk. Shut up, kid! It's not a big deal!" the boy clutching his broken arm said. "You think we want to stay here after this? Fuck that!" The boy who had been punched had woken up, and his friends were encouraging him to stand up more quickly so they could get away.

Alfred wavered.

"See? They agree with me," Ivan said, looking almost confused by Alfred's insistent attitude.

"They're terrified. This is all wrong! This isn't what it means to be a member of the Hero Club!" Alfred finally said, his own blue eyes tearing up. A soft voice broke the ensuing silence.

"Did you do this, Ivan?" Toris asked gently. The tall Russian turned to see his shy, soft-spoken boyfriend observing the damage he'd done to the retreating bullies.

"This is who I am," Ivan said simply.

"It's over between us. I think deep down, you're a good person, Ivan. I think your father has done horrible things to you, and you've seen horrible things, and you're so different from everyone here that you don't know how to even begin to fit in, but I can't stay with you when you're proud of doing something like this. I'm changing rooms, and we're not a couple anymore." Toris gave Ivan one last, pained look before he left just as quietly as he'd come.

Ivan frowned darkly, his hands clenching into fists at his side. Alfred took the opportunity to tell Matthew to leave. Still crying, the scared boy fled, no doubt to get a teacher or to lock himself up in his room.

It was just Alfred and Ivan in the courtyard, and Alfred's heart hammered away in his chest, but he refused to back down.

"Ivan, this only happened because you followed me. Let me help make this right. I'm your friend, Ivan, but you need to get some help."

"What will you tell the Headmaster about all this?" Ivan asked. The fury was now gone from his face, and instead he was perfectly calm now. He disinterestedly wiped some blood off his fist with the hem of his jacket.

"I'll tell him the truth. Those guys were bullying Matthew again, and you got into a fight with them. They were scared off and said they were leaving the school. I'll also tell him that if he tries to kick you out, I'll go to the press about how those guys beat me up and harassed Matthew for being gay. I don't want you to get kicked out…I just want you to talk to someone that can help you learn how to handle your anger better. I just want to help you, Ivan," Alfred said.

"To stay in your club…I must talk to the school counselor?" Ivan asked. Alfred nodded, a little amazed that Ivan was still talking to him and hadn't punched him unconscious. "Well, since nobody was willing to let me join their club last year, I cannot afford to get kicked out of yours, now can I? I will talk to someone, if it is that important to you. My father once told me I would know a friend when I met a man with the courage to be my enemy."

"Uh…" Alfred said unsurely. Ivan gave him a small, genuine smile and extended his hand. Confused, Alfred reached to grab it but Ivan hauled him close, his smile serene.

"I could break your arm right now, but you aren't running away. You are afraid of me, I can see that, but you're standing your ground. Even Toris was frightened away, but you're still here."

"Arthur's probably not gonna like it, but I'm going to be your friend, Ivan, whether you like it or not," Alfred added with a hesitant, joking grin. Ivan grinned back, as he lowered Alfred back to the ground.

"Despite how unlikely it is, from now on you are my first friend. We will go tell the Headmaster about what happened together."

Unwilling to question such a strange turn of events (and feeling a little like pissing his own pants in relief) Alfred shook Ivan's hand meaningfully before the two made their way to the office.

USUK

"What the bloody hell were you thinking?" Arthur raged. Alfred collapsed onto his bed, feeling boneless. He tiredly put an arm over his eyes.

"Not tonight, please Arthur? I can't decide if the rugby team is going to humiliate me or just beat me brutally, I spent a solid two hours after getting out of the Headmaster's office comforting Matthew who would not stop crying about Francis, only to be ambushed by Toris, who was worried about Ivan even though he dumped him and demanded a new roommate. And let's not forget Ivan, who has now decided for some bizarre reason that I'm his best friend/enemy. I don't even know what that means, but he made one of Matthew's bullies say he'd suck his penis before he peed himself. The guy literally peed his own pants. I thought that only happened in the movies," Alfred said, clearly tired after such a day.

Arthur sighed. He crossed the room and perched on the edge of Alfred's bed, staring at the exhausted boy.

"Just tell me why you're so determined to be Ivan's friend, even at the risk of your life," Arthur asked.

Alfred peeked his eyes open and flashed Arthur a soft smile.

"I may not know much, but I know it really sucks when nobody understands you, and nobody cares to even try," Alfred said. "You've tried getting to know me, and you don't know how much that means to me. Ivan deserves that chance, too."

Arthur felt a flare of jealousy coil in his stomach at Alfred's words (the last thing he wanted was Alfred picturing his friendship with Ivan in the same way he pictured his friendship with himself), but he remembered his promise to Matthew and simply nodded.

"You know, technically the rules for forming a club state that one member must be at least sixteen. It doesn't say they have to be classified as a sophomore. With Ivan as a member, you could make your club official if you had a teacher sponsor."

"Really?" Alfred asked, his blue eyes shining up at Arthur in gratitude.

"But you owe me, because it's going to take a lot of time and cloth to make a superhero cape big enough for Ivan," Arthur's joke earned him a bright, happy smile. Alfred fondly ruffled his hair.

"Nah, I get to be the only hero with an Arthur-cape. It's a new rule I just made. Only the president of Hero Club gets to wear the cape."

"Ha! And you've just declared yourself president, have you? No election?"

"You'd vote for me, and your vote counts for the most. It's like the electoral college, and you're California."

"In American English, that's a compliment, right?"

"Well, yeah, but California's kind of fruity," Alfred teased. Arthur grabbed his pillow and whacked him with it, provoking a pillow fight that lasted a good ten minutes until Alfred managed to triumph by wrestling Arthur to the floor. He sat proudly atop his pillow-less roommate, smirking down at him.

"I win. That settles it. I get to be president forever!"

"Alright, alright, just get off me already, you big oaf!" Arthur replied. He firmly squashed the protesting, random little voice that whispered in his brain, 'It feels rather good, though, to be so close to him…'

Arthur wanted nothing to do with thoughts like those.

USUK

Alfred didn't tell Arthur when try-outs were, but somehow Arthur found out and showed up anyway. Alfred would have been touched by the gesture…if he hadn't been so embarrassed to be watched.

It was almost painful to watch Alfred play sports. If he was flat out terrible, then it wouldn't have been quite so bad, Arthur decided, after a half-hour of watching. What made it so horrible was that Alfred did show potential…just enough to worsen his inevitable embarrassment. For example, he'd manage to outrun all the other boys down the field, but then he'd trip up when it came time to catch the ball. Or, he'd manage to catch the ball and score, but it would be in the wrong goal. It was utterly frustrating to watch him come so close, only to fail each and every time in such an awkward fashion.

Furthermore, the club was rough. Though the boys primarily played rugby, they practiced American football as well, since many of the team members were Americans and they wanted to compete against local teams when they were in the states the following year. While only the ball carrier was tackled during rugby, when they switched to American football, any player was fair game.

Arthur winced in the stands as Alfred disappeared under a pile of massive upperclassmen and freshman hopefuls. The ball, he noted, was a good fifteen feet away and had been nowhere near Alfred when he was flattened to the ground. It seemed like they were trying to prove something to Alfred—to punish him for even daring to sign up. Maybe they were even trying to intimidate him into giving up and leaving the field as a limping, bruised loser.

"But if that's what they're after, they're underestimating Alfred," Arthur muttered to himself. At least, he thought he was alone.

"I should have known you'd come to watch. I bet Alfred actually asked you to come, though," Matthew said, sitting gracefully on the bleacher next to Arthur.

"No, I overheard another boy in history mention when the try-outs were. Alfred didn't tell me not to come, but he certainly didn't ask me to be here."

"Same for me. How's he doing?" Matthew asked.

"Terribly. If they keep smearing him into the grass much more, there won't be anything left of him. I wish his father and mother could be here to see how much pain the other boys are inflicting on him. I blame all of this on them."

"Why?" Matthew asked. Arthur was a bit surprised.

"Alfred hasn't told you? They put incredible pressure on him—not that he realizes it. He thinks the world of their opinion."

"Oh," Matthew gave him a small smile, "Alfred never talks about his parents with me. He seems to open up more to you, though. I guess he really trusts you."

"Why wouldn't he trust you?" Arthur asked.

"He sees me as someone he's got to look out for—someone to protect. He doesn't tell me things that might worry me or make me sad. I've noticed that about him. I'm glad he can talk to you, though. Nobody can be happy and cheerful all the time, not even Alfred."

"Well, he's not going to be happy and cheerful after this." Arthur winced as a huge boy slammed into Alfred's thin frame, burying him into the grass.

"I could help you patch him up this afternoon. I'm avoiding Francis anyway."

"Flirting again?" Arthur guessed.

"He can't help it. I really shouldn't be so sensitive about it, but it hurts me every time. Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't be better to date someone like Alfred—someone that nobody else notices."

"Matthew…" Arthur said warningly. Matthew grinned, a bit mischievously.

"I said like Alfred. Besides, Alfred seems taken with that snotty red-head girl in science."

"She's awful. I can't stand her," Arthur practically growled. Matthew just shook his head fondly.

"Sometimes it's cute how possessive of him you are…a little creepy, but kind of cute, too."

"Belt up, Matthew," Arthur replied. Then he added, for good measure, "I'm not possessive of Alfred…at least not anymore. I gave you my word, and a gentleman takes his word seriously."

"But you can't stand her?"

"Ugh, God no. I don't know what he possibly sees in her. She's rude, for starters, and she doesn't give him the time of day, and as his lab partner she constantly nags him to do better work. He's tried to befriend her, but she's so high and mighty she doesn't notice how hard he tries to impress her," Arthur fretted. Ducking his face into the soft fur of his teddy bear backpack, Matthew had to chuckle. Arthur glared. "What on earth are you snickering for? I don't see anything funny about Alfred's horrible taste in girls."

"Oh, nothing really…except I was just thinking she sounds a lot like you, back when the school year first started. That's all."

Whatever Arthur might have replied (probably nothing but indignant spluttering) a loud whistle from the Captain indicated try-outs were over.

"He'll be embarrassed if he realizes we both watched him do so poorly. I'll head out now, but let him know I wish him luck!" Matthew said. Arthur waved him off, too distracted by the limping, staggering form of his roommate down on the field to care whether Matthew hung around longer or left.

When Alfred finally reached him, he slumped against Arthur's shoulder gratefully.

"Even my blood hurts," he said. Arthur struggled a bit with the confining helmet, but managed to tug it off his hurt best friend. Alfred's hair was flattened against his head, a sweaty mess.

"Where are your glasses?" Arthur asked.

"Didn't wear 'em—didn't want…them to get broken," Alfred said.

"Probably for the best, but it couldn't have done much to improve your game, not being able to see, and all," Arthur said.

"Nah…I would have sucked…even if I could see the ball better. But I'm not trying out to be a player…I just had to survive try-outs with the players. They just…want me as a…towel boy." Alfred was panting, pausing between phrases to fill his lungs with desperately needed air.

"Oh…err…I'm terribly sorry you didn't make the cut, Alfred," Arthur said, hating that all his friend's pain had been for nothing.

"Wha? Nothin' to be…sorry 'bout! I'm…I'm on the…team…even if I'm…jus' a towel…boy." Alfred ended this long, drawn out sentence by promptly slipping towards the ground, no longer able to stand. He'd been leaning very heavily on Arthur, and now it seemed all the damage he'd taken was catching up to him.

"Alfred!" Arthur said worriedly, no longer able to hold the heavier boy up. Instead, Arthur sunk to the ground with him, hoping the other boy didn't lose consciousness.

"Mind…if we…rest here…a bit? My legs feel…like jelly," Alfred said. Struggling to both prop up the taller boy while holding his helmet, Arthur tossed the helmet aside and hooked his hands under Alfred's shoulder pads.

"Alright there?" he demanded. Alfred blinked at him woozily, as if he were intoxicated.

"You have…really pretty eyes," Alfred said, before his own blue eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped forward into Arthur's arms.

"We need to get him out of those pads," a deep voice grunted from nearby. Arthur glanced up desperately, relieved to see one of the rugby players had doubled back and was going to help him. In an impressive show of strength, the large teen flipped Alfred over and began to unlace his heavy football pads.

"They did him up too tightly—he can't breathe," the upperclassman explained. Finally, he pulled the large garment off and Arthur winced at the damage. Alfred's arms were already purpling up with bruises, as well as what Arthur could see of the taller boy's chest and stomach.

"What do we do? Do I go get the nurse?" Arthur was feeling almost frantic with worry, and as nice as the taciturn rugby player was being, Arthur didn't trust him alone with his vulnerable friend. He was desperately wishing Matthew hadn't left early.

"I'll just carry him. Step back a bit," the Swedish boy said before easily hefting Alfred into his arms.

"Why are you helping him?" Arthur asked, his distrust manifesting. The tall, heavy-set boy simply shrugged, and didn't reply. This didn't set Arthur to ease, and so he stuck right by the boy's side, and watched him like a hawk until he safely laid Alfred down on a bed in the hospital wing. The nurse bustled out with an annoyed look on her face.

"Not this one again!" she said. Arthur couldn't agree with her agitation more. He turned around to further question the big rugby player, but as if he'd never been there, the older boy was simply gone.

USUK

A/N: Yay for Berwald/Sweden! He's got a bigger part coming up soon. But just so you realize how bad all the kids ostracize Ivan, even the rugby team wouldn't let him come to tryouts the previous year. That's why he's not on the rugby team, despite being super tall and built like Berwald. And yes, Toris finally had a bit too much of Ivan. While I enjoy them as a pairing, I want the Hero Club to consist of the original allies primarily, and while Toris was friends with Alfred briefly, and in some sort of relationship with Ivan in the series, he's not a main allied power. Trying to keep it somewhat cannon, his new roommate will be Poland.

Oh! And one reviewer was super helpful and pointed out an issue with one of the French phrases I used in an earlier chapter. She/he seemed worried I'd take offense, but I'm really very grateful. Please don't hesitate to point out mistakes you spot, as I don't have a beta. Also, I wanted to thank everyone who's been reviewing. I read what you guys say and it immediately makes me start the next chapter. It's a huge motivational boost, so thanks!