Chapter 24

"Did you hear? There's a Hero Club event happening in the boy's dormitory every night," a girl whispered to her friend. On the other side of the bookshelf, Arthur strained his ears to hear their gossip. Last night, the strange crying girl had stayed in his head all night. He knew he should just break and ask Alfred or Francis, since Francis seemed to be the mastermind behind whatever was going on, but he knew if he eavesdropped long enough, he'd be able to figure it out on his own. Then he could make his own judgment of the situation, without having to confront Alfred again. Despite his attendance in the hallway every evening, they had not spoken a single word to each other for eighteen days. Not that Arthur was counting.

"I thought that club didn't make it this year?" the girl's friend replied.

"Oh, it's still around, but the regular member list is really exclusive."

Arthur had to snort at that, remembering back to the first year of the Hero Club, when they'd waited in the gym for hours and nobody had ever come. Still, he should have known Alfred's foolish heroic ideals were tied up in all this somehow. At the root of all his troubles was always Alfred, cape tied around his shoulders and playing at being Superman. He should have known dumping the boy wouldn't end the headache.

It also made him feel better to realize it was something about the Hero Club, and likely had nothing to do with him at all. Arthur hadn't known the girl last night, so that proved it. He was just being self-centered, and thinking that every move Alfred made was always about him. Alfred had moved on and was doing some strange thing with his little club. That was all.

"Lila went last night. I'm really surprised. I mean, like, nobody knew," the girl continued.

'Ah,' Arthur thought. 'The crying girl has a name: Lila.'

"I heard that some boys were laughing at her. Bet they feel like dicks now that word is getting out. Alfred was really sweet though. He stayed by her the whole time. He was the first person she'd ever told. I guess it was easier for her to tell a stranger."

Now Arthur was interested despite himself. Just what in the bleeding hell was Alfred up to?

He could have just asked the girls. No doubt they would have happily explained every little detail, but Arthur was certain that would get back to Alfred somehow…or worse, Francis, and then they'd know that he had cracked. If they were trying to use his curiosity to get him engaged in school affairs again, they were fighting a losing battle. Arthur didn't care. He didn't care about World Academy, he didn't care about Alfred's silly Hero Club, and he didn't care about Lila…whoever she was.

That night, Michelle was back in the hallway with Alfred. It appeared like she was trying to convince him of something, but Arthur refused to linger outside his door eavesdropping. Was it just Arthur's brain playing tricks on him, or was Alfred a little bit closer down the hallway?

'That sort of thinking right there is proof that you're paying this far more attention than it deserves. Stop caring what he does! Whatever it is, it's not enough to fix what's wrong…if that's what he's even trying to do,' Arthur thought with irritation as he unlocked his door. Mike glanced up from his magazine.

"They're getting closer," he said casually. Arthur had the creepy feeling Mike had been reading his thoughts on his face.

"No they aren't. They're still at the end of the hall. They haven't disturbed me yet. Let them cry in the hallway all day if that's how they want to waste their time. I have homework to do." His words sounded callous, even to his own ears, but Arthur only regretted them a little bit. He was still angry for Alfred not just going away. He knew they shared the same campus, and a run-in every now and then was inevitable, but why did he have to do his weird Hero Club projects at the end of Arthur's hallway?

Arthur knew Alfred was trying to get at him, no matter what anyone said. Arthur dropped his books casually on the floor without the neatness he normally displayed. He jerked off his tie in a similarly annoyed fashion and stripped off his sweater vest and button-up just as fast. It was so very like Alfred to find a way to get under his skin. He kicked off his shoes and glared at the vent up in the corner of his room. Had it been left off today? His glorified storage closet felt particularly warm. He stripped off his trousers as well, and after a moment of hesitation, he slid off his pants. Alfred got under his bed sheet quickly after his customary check under the bed.

Even now, Alfred was sitting at the end of the hallway with Michelle, who could say whatever she pleased about turning over a new leaf but Arthur would always know she was a home-wrecker in the making. She was out there, right at that moment, trying to convince Alfred to…to…what? Date her? Sleep with her?

Possessiveness blossomed in his chest and made him clench his teeth. Gods, his room was stifling. He could barely breathe! Would Alfred cave to her advances? Would he let her see what he looked like with nothing but sweat on his skin? Arthur still remembered what it felt like to run his fingers through all that silky blond hair, to kiss his path across baby-soft skin.

Arthur's bout of possessiveness was going straight to his cock. He immediately felt disgusted, betrayed by his own body, and furious that he was fantasizing about his ex-boyfriend while said ex-boyfriend sat just down the bloody hall with the leggy homewrecker. Arthur wanted to show Alfred who he belonged to. He wanted to taste his tongue and stretch him and fuck him.

The words of his assailant popped into his head even though he was trying desperately to keep them out. He didn't even know if what he was remembering was accurate or not, all he knew was that he would never forget that voice, and the threats he'd whispered, and the way his prick had betrayed him then just as it was betraying him now. He gripped the sheets in a white knuckled grip, refusing to touch himself simply because the idea was too revolting. He hated his body for what it was doing to him, for the physical torture he felt every time Alfred flashed him that sweet, loving, heavy-lidded stare that promised to love him forever and a day.

With a grunt of pure frustration, Arthur caved and he grabbed himself roughly under the sheet. His grip was more painful than pleasurable, as much of a punishment as he could make it. He came ridiculously hard and fast, gasping Alfred's name only once, and angrily biting his fist after the name escaped him.

He didn't want Alfred. Not in that way. Not ever again.

Alfred was glad when Lila didn't come back during week three. He didn't think he could have survived another night of that. It had taken everything he had to not leave his spot. Her story was simple, predictable even. She was a Junior this year. She'd gone to a party, the same type Alfred had attended earlier in the year without a second thought. She'd had too much to drink, and she'd let a guy from the team convince her to make out with him. It quickly escalated and she'd told him no, but he simply hadn't listened. He'd raped her and she hadn't told anyone, because technically they were dating, and she'd been drinking when she shouldn't have, and she was afraid.

And there sat Alfred. What in the hell was he supposed to do with that? Firstly, just listening to her story was hard. What if Alfred knew the guy? What if they'd joked in the locker room or trained together on the field? And how messed up was it that she was afraid to tell anyone—afraid to be more punished than she already had been by her error in judgment? Without her saying so, Alfred knew he couldn't tell anyone. It was Lila's story to tell, and she had made him a part of her story without asking, without preparing him in anyway. He didn't even know her. She could have been any girl. Now Alfred would never forget her, and he'd never forget the burden of trust she'd placed on him. Trust that he would not run away from her, or blow her off. Trust that he would stay in the hallway like he said he would, for three hours, after she'd told everyone what she had about the hallway…after she'd told everyone it was a place for victims of rape to go to tell everyone that they wouldn't run away anymore, and they wouldn't let themselves be shamed.

They would sit. They would sit and wait for Arthur, because he had to know that being forced had not made him less worthy of love and support.

"This is amazing what you're doing. I'm scared. This is the hardest thing I've ever done…but I want…no, I need…to be a part of this. I needed to do my time."

And then Lila had sat, first across from him, then beside him, and cried. At some point, though Alfred had no idea of when, her rapist might have even passed them in the hallway. He might have stared at her a second too long. He might have almost asked, but then, like Lila, decided to hold his silence. It had been the longest, most miserable three hours of Alfred's life.

He didn't admit it to Michelle, but he almost hadn't been able to come back on Thursday. Everyone had such faith in him though, even when he was still confused. Everyone, all his friends, and now as it filtered through the gossip chain…everyone believed he was unshakeable in his faith that eventually, Arthur would come back to him. With enough patience, with enough support and love, he had to believe that Arthur could heal.

Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not even months later…but eventually, Alfred would have gotten as close as he possibly could. He would have stayed, giving up parties and other dates, sporting events and school functions, dinner in the cafeteria and extra time to just goof off and relax with friends. If Arthur couldn't have that and enjoy it, then neither would Alfred.

"I'm not here to help a cause. I'm here to make a sacrifice. I'm here because actions speak louder than words. I can't claim to understand what he's going through, or how it feels, but I can prove that I'll wait for as long as it takes, and that I won't try to fix things with words or sex. I'm going to help him with patience. I get it now," Alfred explained wearily to Michelle, as he dropped into his spot for the week. He'd started marking the steps at the end of the hallway with little bits of tape. Three marks of tape in the hall. Three weeks. Three tiny steps of hope, faith, love and patience.

"This is bigger than just you and Arthur now, Alfred! Somehow Lila found out, or figured it out, maybe because of all the coverage over Arthur's attack. Whether you and Francis meant to or not, you've set something huge in motion. As the acting president of the Hero Club, I can't let this opportunity go to waste. You told me to copy Matthew's example, didn't you? He cares about people in a way that I just don't bother with anymore. I've been numb for so long, but I can't be numb anymore. Not about Alex, and not about this."

"Too much attention will just make it worse on Arthur. I'm not going to hurt him more than I have to, Michelle," Alfred insisted stubbornly.

He stood up, stretching his legs, and awkwardly accepted handshakes from a couple of guys passing through that said things like, "Way to go, Jones," and "I respect this, man. We'll come keep you company later."

"See? Alfred, this is something we can do. I'm sick of feeling so damned helpless! I made some stupid decisions and yes, I fucked up, but I didn't deserve what happened to me!"

Alfred sighed. "I understand what you're saying, and I get it now. I really do. I want to help, too, Michelle…but Arthur has to come first. I just can't mess this up. I can't let it get too big. It has to be about him."

"Well that's fucking great for Arthur, isn't it? It's just great that he has boyfriend of the year to stick by him no matter what and fight when he's not strong enough to fight for himself, but what about Lila, Alfred? What about me? Who's going to sit in the hallway for us?"

Alfred guiltily dropped his gaze to the tiled floor. Michelle surprised him by leaning forward and catching his eye, offering a strong smile.

"Since your clueless as usual, I'll tell you who. I am. I'm going to use this for what it is—an opportunity to make sure what happened to me, and Lila, and Arthur…might not happen to anybody else at this school. You handle Arthur. I'll handle Hero Club business, right? I mean, after all…you did appoint me temporary president."

Feeling overwhelmed by her urgency and determination—a light he'd seen in his own eyes plenty enough times—he had to nod.

"I guess I did give you the job. I would have been disappointed if you didn't do the heroic thing."

"Great! Now I can tell you about Francis's next idea…"

It wasn't until Arthur saw Kiku wearing the shirt in the hallway, and offering him a horrible, pitying smile, that all the pieces clicked. Then there were more of them—anyone who'd ever been associated with the Hero Club was wearing one, and they had Francis written all over them. In a stylish, eye-catching design of printed text, the shirt read on the front:

If you won't stand for rape at our school

Then sit for love and understanding

And there, for everyone to see on the back of Kiku's T-shirt, was a stylized picture of his hallway, and the bright, white ink on the black T-shirt took the shape of a boy sitting in said hallway, just as Alfred had done now for an entire month. There was a website on the back too—clearly some sort of site for rape victim counseling.

Not one fucking word passed between them in all that time, but there was now an unmistakable reason for the boy sitting at the end of his hall. Arthur wanted to rip the shirt off Kiku's back. It almost felt like he was being forced all over again—forced to feel things he didn't want to feel, forced to confront things he didn't want to confront.

He skipped the rest of his classes because everyone was staring at him, and when he passed Michelle in the hallway, he didn't even hesitate. He punched her square in the eye and didn't even feel bad about it, because now he knew what she'd been convincing Alfred about the week before. It hadn't been about sex at all. It had been about a far worst betrayal than that.

Arthur sat on his bed in a pure rage for nearly five hours, just waiting…waiting for him to come. Daring him in his mind to just bloody well fucking try him.

The last day of school before winter break, the first day of Michelle and Francis's shirt campaign, Alfred was stupid enough to sit down again on that fourth piece of fucking tape. As if he hadn't humiliated Arthur all over again. As if he hadn't stirred everything back up. As if he wasn't betraying him to everyone who wore one of his stupid, fucking T-shirts.

It even dared to talk of love and, of all things, understanding. The rage was so hot and all consuming that Arthur was almost a little scared of himself. But it was Alfred that should be scared, because Arthur was going to make him pay.

There was a crowd this time in the hallway. Stupid, fucking teenagers that put on a goddamn T-shirt and thought they were doing something, who thought they were saving him—supporting him even! They didn't know a fucking thing! They smiled. They cracked jokes. They measured out steps and marked up the border of the hallway with cutesy printed tape.

And Alfred just sat, three markers down, head bowed against his crossed arms. He knew, at least. He knew what he'd done.

As Arthur approached, everyone fell silent. Amongst the crowd, he spotted Francis and Matthew, and Kiku and Heracles. The brainless Feliciano was there, clinging to Ludwig, who looked uncomfortable.

Arthur came to a stop in front of Alfred. Alfred looked up at him slowly. He flinched, and then dropped his head down again.

"So…won't fucking move, will you? Tell them to leave," Arthur said in a very calm voice.

When Alfred didn't immediately reply, Arthur snarled.

"Haven't you hurt me enough already? Do they get to have this part of me, too? Will I get not even a scrap of respect from you?"

"Go," Alfred croaked out, already sounding pathetic. Arthur sneered. He didn't know pathetic. When Arthur was done with him, he'd have a whole new definition of pathetic when he looked in the mirror.

A few people, namely Francis and Matthew, lingered too long. The other attention-seekers cleared out pretty fast at Arthur's tone.

"Arthur…it was my idea," Francis said quietly.

"You think I don't know that? You think I don't know he's too bloody stupid to pull a stunt like this on his own? Now are you deaf, or did you just not hear me when I said to leave us the fuck alone?"

"Just GO, Francis!" Alfred shouted, startling everyone but Arthur with his loud outburst. With Matthew nearly in tears, Francis grit his teeth and turned the corner, fists clenched so hard he was likely drawing blood.

When it was just the two of them, Arthur stood for a long moment just feeling the rage course through him. He kicked Alfred in the shin. Hard.

"Get up. Look me in the eye if you're going to call me a fucking victim. If I'm some fucking sniveling victim, then you should be man enough to look at me."

Wincing at the pain in his shin, Arthur stood on shaky legs, still firmly planted over his fourth little tape mark. With his lower lip trembling, he looked down at Arthur's furious, completely flat green-eyed stare.

"Would a victim have come back, Alfred? Would a victim walk these halls every goddamned day knowing—knowing!—that he's still here? That's he's watching me? Would I face that fear every fucking day if I was some weak, sniveling, helpless rape victim?"

"Not every victim could…but you would. You've always been the strongest person I know," Alfred said quietly.

SLAP!

"You don't get to talk about me anymore, Alfred Jones. Don't you think you've done quite enough of that already? Did you truly think this was a good idea?"

"No."

"Then why the FUCK are you here?" Arthur roared, grabbing Alfred by the shirt and swinging him by the fistfuls down to the ground. He stood over the fallen teen with his chest heaving. He kicked at Alfred again, this time connecting solidly with the other boy's thigh.

"I'm here…to be patient. No matter what."

"FUCK YOU AND YOUR FUCKING SLOGANS!" Arthur roared. That seemed to be all he could stand. Arthur flung himself on top of Alfred, punching and scratching, aiming to hurt, aiming to humiliate, aiming to put all the pain he'd inflicted right back on its sender.

And Alfred didn't lift a single finger in his own defense. That made Arthur even angrier.

"Don't you—fucking—act so damn—self-righteous! You're not a hero! You're a moron! A stupid moron that can't see the truth when it's given to you on a fucking platter! We're done! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"

"Arthur, that's enough," Mike's strong, steady voice said as he bodily restrained the violent teen.

He held Arthur in restraint until Alfred managed to scrape himself off the floor.

"You need to go, kid. Get out of the hallway," Mike said gruffly.

But Alfred dragged himself back to the general vicinity of his tape marker and dropped down heavily, like a sack of rocks.

"I'm not moving. He can hate me, but I'm not moving a fucking inch for…" Alfred glanced with a rapidly swelling eye at his watch, "two hours, forty-nine minutes."

"LET HIM, then! Let the idiot sit out here till he ROTS for all I care! Oh, and that last line? Real fucking catchy. You should put it on a fucking car magnet!" Arthur shouted, jerking himself roughly out of Mike's hold and storming off down the hallway. For the second time, his door slammed, and Alfred was sure the hallway stretching between them was infinite.

A/N: Short chapter, but I wanted to wrap up the first month or so of the hallway arc before the next part of the story unravels. I've gotten some great reviews, with lots of constructive criticism, and I want to sincerely thank anyone who takes the time to share their thoughts. Getting people's emotional feedback helps me tremendously as a writer.