Chapter 23

Alfred walked down the long hallway towards Arthur's new room slowly. It wasn't that he didn't want to fix things with Arthur—he desperately did—but everything had become so overwhelming that he'd had to take a break. Clearly, that feeling was mutual.

The hallway guard came into sight first and she glanced him up and down before turning and knocking on the door brusquely.

"Visitor," she barked. Alfred frowned. She almost made it sound like Arthur was in prison or something.

The door opened slowly, but all too soon, Arthur was peering out into the hallway at him. His green eyes were puffy from crying and his hair was a flyaway mess, and he still had snow flurries trapped in the creases of his clothes. Had he just been sitting in his room crying?

Alfred picked up his pace, did not pause to be asked in, and muscled his way inside the door and shut it firmly behind him. He then wrapped Arthur up in a fierce, strong hug. Arthur remained stiff in his arms, but he made a harsh, jagged little sound, like a surprise sob.

It was Arthur who gently pushed him away, quickly wrapped his arms around himself, and scooted to sit on the far side of the room. Alfred tried not to be hurt by the distance, but it stung. It really did.

"I'm sorry about what Tony said. He's got this disorder that makes it hard for him to do social stuff. We really get along despite that, and I guess he felt scared you coming back would make him lose me. He can't really control the outbursts, I don't think."

"Is he your next hero project?" Arthur asked with more bite than he intended. He winced even as he said it, and Alfred's big blue eyes filled with hurt.

"I'm not trying to change Tony. I like him how he is. I didn't…I didn't come here to talk about him, though," Alfred said.

"No?" Arthur replied, still snapping without meaning it. Alfred's hands balled up into fists and he stared fiery holes in his jeans.

"What do you want from me, Arthur? First you say you love me, and you want to be together after school, and you talk about kids, even…and now…it's like everything I say and do is wrong."

"I'm sorry," Arthur finally said, quietly. Alfred looked up with fear in his eyes.

"Sorry, let's get back together, or sorry, I'm ending this?"

It killed Arthur, but the tightness in his chest and the all-consuming fear in his heart gave him no choice.

"Sorry that I'm…ending it."

"Oh. You…you don't love me anymore?" Alfred asked, sounding for all the world like a six year old who'd just been told Santa was a lie. Arthur couldn't even look at him.

"The world isn't so black and white, Alfred. I will always love you."

"Then why? Why can't we be together? Is it because of the stalker? Because you can't let him ruin your whole life!" Alfred had become passionate, and he stood now, closing the distance between them. Arthur panicked.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" he snapped, loudly, with all the force of hurling knives. Alfred froze, and then staggered backwards until his back was against the door.

"Why? Please, Arthur, just tell me why. I love you so much. Seeing you like this is killing me," Alfred begged helplessly. He was crying now. Arthur saw his pain, and he wanted to make it all go away…but he couldn't.

"Alfred, look at me! I'm not the boy you fell in love with anymore. Who wants a boyfriend you can't ever touch again? Who wants to be shackled to someone who cries during sex and never wants to take their clothes off and is constantly afraid all the time?"

"If the stalker is caught…" Alfred trailed off weakly.

"The damage is still done! I'm broken now! I don't want you near me! I don't want you touching me! I don't want sex, I don't want a boyfriend—I just want to be alone where I'm safe!"

"If all that's true…then why come back, Arthur?" Alfred asked quietly. He was still crying, the tears slipping out over his high cheekbones and down the now slightly chubby cheeks.

"I had to tell you in person. More importantly, I'm here in case he comes back. I can't live the rest of my life knowing he's out there. They have to catch him. I'll go crazy if they don't."

"This isn't fair," Alfred finally whined, sounding more like a little boy than ever before. Arthur nearly cracked.

"Life isn't fair. Haven't you heard?" he replied waspishly. He kept a stiff upper lip. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done.

"So…I just go…and then what?"

"Alfred, for god's-sake, people break up all the time! You'll find someone else. You'll go to your classes. You'll get over it, and years from now this'll just be some stupid thing you had as a teenager that seems incredibly juvenile in hindsight."

"That may be true for you…but it won't be true for me. I love you, Arthur. That isn't going to change. If you asked me again a thousand years from now, I'd still love you." Alfred's blue eyes bore into him across the room—even his gaze was heavy and far too intimate.

"Leave, Alfred. Just leave. I've given you all the explanation I owe. I don't want to see you anymore."

For a moment, Alfred stood helplessly in front of the door, and then, with no other option, he left through it.

"So he ended it," Alfred finished glumly. It was the following morning, and Matthew had come to physically drag Alfred out of bed. Tony, by comparison, had wanted to attempt growing some fungi cultures on Alfred if he truly was "not going to get out of bed again…ever."

Matthew, however, thought breakfast was a wiser course of action.

"I hate to say it, Alfred, but he's right. People do break up all the time. The world does keep spinning."

"Not for me it doesn't," Alfred insisted. He took a deep drink of his hot chocolate and then dropped his head onto the table rather dramatically.

"I mean…you kind of already knew, didn't you? He left for a month and didn't say a word to you, Alfred."

"Maybe I'm slow on the uptake," Alfred grumbled into his arms. Matthew had to hide a smile and Alfred's petulant tone.

"Well…if it makes you feel any better…I agree with you that you can't give up."

"I don't care if you don't agree with—wait. Huh?"

Matthew let his smile show then.

"Arthur's acting this way because of the attack. He said it himself that he loves you still, right? It sounds like he's just confused and scared and acting on instinct."

"Yeah! Exactly!" Alfred enthused.

"So…you can't stay in bed forever if you're going to convince him you're still his hero, right?"

"You're right! I've already wasted…" he glanced at his cell phone, "like four hours! I've gotta…I've gotta…"

"Talk to Francis," Matthew suggested.

"Yeah! I've gotta talk to Fra—wait a second. Why would he help me? Won't he be glad Arthur dumped me?" Alfred asked skeptically.

"Francis likes you, Alfred. He just won't ever admit it."

"Really?" Alfred asked a bit doubtfully. Matthew smiled over the lip of his coffee cup (extra maple syrup).

"Really. He's off first period, too. Room 312."

"Thanks, Mattie! You know I owe you big time, right?"

"I know. Oh, and you should probably hear it from me...Francis and I are back together."

Alfred groaned almost comically and dropped back into his seat.

"Matthew," he said sternly. Matthew hid behind his coffee cup.

"You said you owed me, right? Well, I'm cashing in. Trust me…just this once. I think he's changed."

"Mattheeewwwww," Alfred whined. "Why not stay friends a little longer? If he doesn't plow his way through all the girls in our year now that he's back, then you can believe he's changed."

"Alfred, how long does his probationary period have to be? He's been back at school a full month. He's dated nobody. He hasn't slept around. We've remembered how to be friends again. It's been…nice."

"And it can't stay that way because?"

"Because I love him…I think. I don't know. I'm seventeen. I don't have to figure it all out right now, but I know I want to be with Francis again. It may not be perfect…but it's better than pining over someone I can't have."

Alfred took Matthew's hands in his own, gently. His look was so earnest and sweet that Matthew almost blushed.

"You know I love Arthur. You'll always be my brother from another mother. I'm sorry that you can't have my heart, Matthew."

"I'm not in love with YOU… idiot!" Matthew snapped, swatting Alfred with a nearby folder. Alfred's boyish grin told him he'd known that the entire time. It faded, however, as he contemplated his friend.

"Does Alex know?" Alfred asked. Matthew shook his head, lips pursed tightly.

"That's…harsh. I'm sorry, Mattie. Figures you'd be the one to fall for the straight guy."

"Horrible taste in men…I know. Francis and I have already discussed that."

"Well, at least he admits it! You really think Francis can help me get Arthur back a second time?" Alfred asked, standing up once more. Matthew flashed him a smile.

"I'm sure he can. He's known Arthur since he was a kid, after all. They're best friends…strange, dark and twisted best friends…but best friends nevertheless."

"There's absolutely no way I can help you get him back," Francis said simply. He made to close his door, but Alfred pushed his foot in.

"Wait! No! You have to help me! Matthew promised you would! He said you secretly liked me and you'd know how to fix this because you've known Arthur his whole life and the serenade worked last time, so…you have to help. You just have to!"

Francis let out quite possibly the World's Biggest Sigh.

"Fine…come in. Merde, when did you last shower?" Francis asked prissily. Alfred sniffed at his pit area a bit embarrassedly and winced.

"Um…"

"You should not have to strain to remember the answer to that question! Into the shower with you. Quickly. I don't have all day."

Feeling caught up in the urgency of the moment, Alfred ignored the strangeness of showering in someone else's dorm room and took a hasty shower. Not hasty enough, however, because his clothes were gone in the time it took him to shampoo his hair and soap up under his arms.

"Francis, where are my clothes?" Alfred called out.

"Clothes? I don't know what you're talking about. I found some smelly rags in my bathroom. Odd…no idea where they came from."

"FRANCIS!" Alfred bellowed. Then, softer, "Do I at least get a towel?"

Smiling to himself, Francis tossed the towel in and Alfred emerged a few moments later, towel gripped securely around his waist. He looked very, very nervous.

"Sit," Francis ordered. "I only have about 45 minutes until my first class."

"What are you going to do with those tweasers?" Alfred asked nervously. Francis cackled with evil laughter.

"Magic, Alfred!"

"OW! STOP! I NEED THE HAIR ON MY FACE!"

"Just…hold…STILL!"

The tweasers moved in a blur of silver as Francis systematically plucked and ripped. Big, fat babyish tears began to roll down Alfred's cheeks.

"Okay…if it…OUCH! If this helps me get Arthur back…"

"Who said anything about Arthur? You smelled bad and your brows were offensive to me. I'll talk to you when you don't look and smell like a knuckle dragging monkey."

"Are you kidding me?"

Francis surveyed his work and smiled in satisfaction.

"That is such a relief. You have no idea. Now…tell Uncle Francis all about it."

"Fraaaaaancis! That was mean!"

"You'll live. Now talk. I'll be finding you something to wear, but I'm listening," Francis assured. So Alfred told the whole break-up story yet again, discovering that it was still just as painful to think about, and it was almost enough to make him start sniffling again.

When Alfred was dressed it some god awful skinny jeans (purple, of all colors) and a shirt depicting a metallic kitten in a beret on the front ("It's not my fault you are a fatass and this is the only big shirt I have!") Francis stared at him considering. Alfred felt utterly ridiculous, but he waited. He'd endure whatever torture or embarrassment Francis could dish out.

"At six every day, you take your homework into the hallway and you sit there to do it. You sit there for three hours, until he goes to sleep. At first, sit at the end of the hallway. If he opens his door, he'll be able to see you, but you aren't within hearing range. At first, he won't know what you're doing, and he'll be too proud to ask."

"So I just…sit there?"

"Simple enough, no? Then, the next week, you move one foot closer."

"Umm…I think I'm missing something."

"Each week, you'll move a foot closer."

"But Francis…that'll take me till the end of the year!"

"Exactly. Don't you see, Alfred? The answer you're looking for…it's patience. I know it's not a strength of yours, but it must be, if you're to get him back."

"So why the sitting in the hallway part?" Alfred asked confusedly. Francis smiled.

"One step closer at a time…it is very romantic. You will just have to trust me. He will understand what it means."

"Even if I don't understand it?"

"After a few weeks, you will understand it, too."

"Do I…do I have to dress like this while I do it?"

"If I said yes…would you?" Francis asked with a wide, shit-eating grin. Alfred almost started crying again.

"Fine. I'll do it. I'll do anything." Alfred's blue eyes shone with steely determination.

"It certainly won't hurt to look nice," Francis mused dismissively. Alfred wasn't sure if that was a "yes—wear the awful cat shirt" or "no—not necessary" but the bell rang and Francis hastily grabbed his bag.

"Come along. You've already skipped first period, haven't you? Let's get going."

Today, it was purple skinny jeans standing between him and Arthur, but Alfred was a man on a mission. With a deep breath, he held his head high and went to second period, ignoring all the teasing and the laughter. Nobody would have looked twice at Francis or Matthew in such a combination, but it had not been too long ago that Alfred had been on top of the school. Oh how quickly the mighty had fallen.

Arthur returned from dinner with a book bag full of makeup work. He'd skipped Michelle's offer to join the defunct Hero Club. He was so preoccupied with the assignments floating around in his head, that he almost missed him. It was actually Mike that pointed him out.

"He's been down there for an hour already. Is he waiting for you?" Mike asked, sounding rather bored by it all. Arthur's eyes narrowed. No, Alfred was sitting at the end of the hallway, but it was the hall that connected to his own. He was playing some sort of card game with Matthew by the looks of it. Alfred happened to glance up, and he flashed him a sad smile for the briefest of moments before he went back to his game.

It was just coincidence that he was sitting there, though it was an inconvenient spot for a card game. Maybe their roommates needed their rooms for something. Arthur bit down on the pain of seeing Alfred so close, but yet so far away, and entered his room resolutely.

Once the door had closed, Matthew reached over and squeezed Alfred's shoulder.

"Patience, eh?"

"Yeah…patience. Got any twos?"

"Go fish."

On day two, he was still out there, in the exact same spot, and Arthur was naturally suspicious. This time, he was accompanied by his strange new friend, who screamed "FUCKING LIMEY" down the hallway as soon as Arthur peeked out the door at them. Alfred just laughed, and Arthur was terribly hurt thinking maybe Alfred was trying to get some sort of twisted revenge. The anger he felt was almost irrational, and he got absolutely no work done that night. He wanted to look out his door again, but he refused to give Alfred and his horrid little friend the satisfaction.

He stewed over it all night, though, and all the next day in classes. He almost confronted Alfred about it in science, but at the last moment he decided he was going to let Alfred be petty and immature if that's what he wished. It made Arthur feel justified in dumping him.

On day three, it was Francis out in the hall with Alfred, and Arthur felt betrayed. He refused to yell at Alfred…but he could most certainly yell at Francis. He stomped down the hallway with a carefully crafted mask of apathy. Francis smiled at him as he approached. He was perusing a fashion magazine, and occasionally helping Alfred with his English paper.

"If you're conducting a tutorial, don't you think a more appropriate place would be the library?"

Alfred glanced up at him, but then buried his eyes in his English paper and seemed to hunker down, as if he was physically bracing himself to stay right where he was no matter what. It was so childish! Arthur couldn't believe it. If Alfred thought he was getting to him—annoying him—well, he was succeeding completely, but damn if Arthur would admit it!

"Why? Does it bother you that we are sitting here? I admit, the view could be more pleasant. One day, Alfred, I'll get my hands on his eyebrows."

"Dream big, Francis," Alfred muttered in reply, not even bothering to hide his mocking smile. Arthur sneered at both of them. To think, he'd once considered Francis a friend! He felt completely foolish. He gave them both his most hate-filled glare and then stomped back down the hallway and slammed his door.

"I don't know if this is working, Francis. He seems really mad at me now," Alfred said immediately. Francis, however, just smiled placidly and flipped another page in his magazine.

"He hasn't figured it out yet. He will, eventually. Remember, what's our word?"

"Patience," Alfred answered, though he sounded quite tortured by the whole thing. It was only day three, and he was already getting quite bored with sitting for such long periods of time in the hallway. Sure, his friends had been great about coming to support him in his quest, but they'd get bored sooner rather than later, wouldn't they?

Soon, it would just be him doing what he had to do all by himself, with little promise that it would even pay off.

On days four and five, Arthur ignored him completely. It almost crushed Alfred's resolution, but on day four, Michelle sat with him and whenever he got down about it, she kicked him, or pinched him, and told him to stop being a baby. On day five, it was Ivan, of all people, who dropped down onto the floor across from him and acted as if nothing were out of the ordinary. They talked about cars for awhile, had a few arm wrestling contests (Ivan won) and then they talked about where they might travel over the summer. Ivan invited him to come over that weekend before his, as Ivan called it, "three hours of I-fucked-up-again" time. Alfred protested that he wasn't even clear that he had fucked things up, nor was he entirely clear why he was waiting in the hallway day after day, but nevertheless, he came back on day six.

This time, it was Yao who met with him, without Alfred having said a word about the time or the purpose. He'd brought tea, and food that was much better than the crappy sandwiches Alfred had crammed in his book bag. Yao even spread out a pretty blanket and pretended they were having a picnic…as if it were a perfectly ordinary thing to do in the hallway.

Upon seeing Yao, perhaps the one friend Arthur thought he still had left, sitting in the hall with Alfred, Arthur crumbled. He was crying before he was even in his room, and it was only the gentle hand that Yao pressed against Alfred's shoulder that held him still.

"He has to realize it on his own. He has to realize we are not his enemies. It will just take time. Remember your word, Alfred—you promised you would do this for him."

"Patience. I remember. But this is really hard! You being here made him cry. Maybe you shouldn't come back again. I mean, I'm grateful, I really am…but I can do it alone. I don't want him hurting more than he has to hurt."

Yao gave him a very small, proud smile and then and passed him a teacup.

"Tomorrow you move a step closer, yes?"

"I guess," Alfred replied a bit glumly. Yao peered at him with a wise look over the rim of his elegant little tea cup. The cup looked natural in his hands, but the same cup looked silly in Alfred's large grasp.

"Am I out here to protect him? I mean, I'm all for that…but couldn't the stalker just come when I leave?"

Yao delicately sipped from his cup. "Drink your tea, Alfred. You'll understand when it's the right time."

"I feel like everybody's in on some big secret except me and Arthur," Alfred pouted. Yao just smiled and passed Alfred a dish of rice.

"There is no secret. It's just love, isn't it?"

"This is a weird way to love someone," Alfred replied, clearly not entirely convinced. Yao smiled that secretive little smile again and drank more tea.

"Mmm. Maybe. Drink your tea before it gets cold."

By day seven, Alfred never thought he'd be so excited to move a damn step in his entire life. It felt like he'd been in a week-long traffic jam, and the light had finally turned green. It was like the gun going off at the start of a marathon, and Alfred was bursting forwards…only to realize that one step further was not all that very far.

"He's not even going to realize I moved!" Alfred whined. Francis and Matthew shared a fond look and then sat opposite him, essentially in the same places they'd been the week prior.

"No, he probably won't," Francis agreed.

"But that's the whole point, right?" Matthew replied.

"WHAT point? I just don't get it! Please tell me. You guys know I'm not very smart. I'll be across campus if you wait for me to figure this out on my own," Alfred said miserably.

Any answer Francis and Matthew might have given was interrupted by Arthur returning from dinner. He glared frostily at them for a long, terrible moment, and then made small talk with Mike that they couldn't quite hear before going inside his room.

"He's not going to crack. He's too stubborn. I'll be blocking his door and he'll just step over me."

"Hmm…you think so?" Francis replied with a broad smile, as if the idea of such a scenario highly amused him.

"Whatever. You're not going to tell me what's going on, but I can be stubborn, too! I can be more stubborn than Arthur! I'll sit in front of his door all freaking summer if that's what I have to do—just you watch me!"

Alfred expected Francis and Matthew to laugh at him, or to try to calm him down, but instead, they just went about getting out their homework for the evening.

"You…you aren't going to argue with me?"

Matthew smiled at him in a fond, though slightly exasperated way.

"I believe you'd wait a thousand years, if you had to. That's why I'm here. That's why we all come."

Alfred didn't know what to make of that, so he stayed quiet for the rest of his time in the hallway, and finished day seven from the new vantage point of being one step closer to Arthur.

It took an entire week for Arthur to convince himself that it couldn't possibly be some sort of strange revenge game. For starters, Alfred was really the only one among their friends (Tony excluded) who was immature enough to come up with some sort of petty, get-even scheme, and furthermore, while he might fantasize about it, Alfred was too sweet-hearted to actually try to hurt him.

So Arthur was forced to realize his friends had not betrayed him, and though it was possible…it didn't seem like they were showing their support of Alfred by sitting with him in the hallway every day. Something else was going on.

"I don't care if they make the hallway their new hangout spot. I'm actually at school to learn. I don't have time for their childishness!" Arthur said to himself in the solitude of his room. He renewed his determination to ignore them for as long as possible, and to speak to the school authorities if they threatened him in any way.

Week two of the strange hall game continued with strange regularity. Arthur was only comforted by the small fact that Mike seemed just as perturbed over it as he was.

"Want me to tell them to clear out of the hallway? I don't think they're breaking any rules, but it's sure as fuck weird."

"I know, but I won't give him the satisfaction. Let them play in the hallway. I have better things to do."

And so life became kind of normal again, but something was happening…the hallway club, as Arthur had mockingly titled it, continued to grow. It was never a large crowd at a time, but it almost became interesting to Arthur to see who would be waiting in the hallway each day. Somewhere in the middle of week three, just a week until Christmas vacation, there was a student keeping Alfred company that Arthur had never seen before, and he was almost positive Alfred didn't know her either.

She didn't talk to Alfred, of if she had, she spoke to him before Arthur returned to his dorm. She actually cried for almost the entire three hours. Arthur knew, because he stood in the hallway with Mike just watching them. Alfred didn't do homework or play card games like he usually did. At first, he just sat across from the girl unsurely, as all the boys of the dorm walked by between them. Then, he crossed the hallway and sat beside her. He offered her his hand, and she clutched it so tightly her knuckles went white.

"Alright, this has gone on long enough. What the hell is going on here?" Arthur asked loudly enough to be heard down the hallway.

"Go ask. I'm curious," Mike encouraged.

Arthur started to march down the hall just as he'd done when he saw Francis, but at the last possible moment, he stopped. He couldn't do it. He knew it didn't make sense…it was just a silly hallway…but he knew that the girl was crying because of something horrible, just as he knew she was fighting with everything she had to stay exactly where she was sitting, tears or no. Something about her struggle was magnetizing to watch…and Arthur felt like he couldn't intrude. He wasn't ready. It didn't feel safe. He didn't know what was going on at the end of the hallway, but he was simply not ready to face it.

So he stood by his door and he watched, and at the three hour mark, just like every other night, the girl hastily stood, threw her arms around Alfred's shoulders, and left with a strange aura of calmness surrounding her. She held her head high, and she walked with her shoulders squared, and even though she'd just been crying in the hallway for three hours while all the guys of the dorm walked by and stared and even cracked jokes about her. Despite all that, she seemed incredibly strong to Arthur, as she walked away.

Arthur went to bed after the girl and Alfred left, but he tossed and turned, and he couldn't find sleep no matter how hard he tried.

A/N: First of all, for the full effect, you need to listen to Christina Perri's song "A Thousand Years" as you read this chapter. Well, I guess you don't have to, but I listened to it for five plus hours as I wrote it…on repeat. Just the one song. I tried to capture the same essence of the music, but hearing it is always better.

Some of you may get where I'm going with this, and some of you may not. I hope you do stick around for the next few chapters, though, because I'm excited to tell this part of the story. It means a lot to me. I hope that comes across in my writing of it. As always, thanks for the reviews!