Chapter 30
The water had long gone cold in the shower, but Arthur still sat in the tub, curled into a very small, tight ball as the liquid ice showered down on him. Memories were assaulting him like a battering ram. For once, his all-powerful, burning hatred for his attacker was overpowered by the hatred he felt for himself.
The stalker had hurt him, true, but he was the one ruining his own life. He was the one ripping apart his first love. Arthur remembered his freshman year, and how desperately he'd loved the confused boy. Back then, he would have given anything just for a chance with Alfred. He'd waited with nothing but hope that Alfred would love him like Arthur loved him, and when that day had come, when Alfred had fought Celio for his honor...even though Arthur felt like he had none...
He sobbed for a solid hour. The flood came out of him like a dam bursting. He cried for himself, he cried for Alfred, and he cried because all the guilt, and hurt, and anger and pain had to come out. He just couldn't keep it inside anymore.
There was a knock on his bathroom door. Then it opened, and Yao came in. Arthur should have been embarrassed to be nude and vulnerable, but he just didn't care.
"Come on, Arthur. Out of the tub," Yao said softly. Arthur let himself be led, like a little boy. It was obvious Yao had become accustomed to mothering. He quickly wrapped Arthur up in a towel and set about righting the mess of things Arthur had initially made in a fit of rage. Arthur sat on the toilet in the towel, his teeth chattering, his cheeks a little blue.
"I'm s-s-sorry," Arthur stuttered. He felt like a block of ice.
"I know. I even know it's not me you're apologizing to."
"I don't deserve him," Arthur said miserably. Yao crouched down in front of him, his slender hands landing on Arthur's shoulders. He forced the green-eyed boy to make eye contact with him.
"People are pretty terrible. We hurt each other. We break things. We're violent and cruel and mean. None of us deserve love, but it saves us all anyway."
"I've hurt him so much. He can't forgive me. He shouldn't forgive me!" Arthur said brokenly. Yao gave his cheek a gentle pat and stood, smiling.
"Maybe not. Maybe he'd be happier with someone else. Is that what you want Arthur?"
Arthur was silent except for his teeth chattering for a long moment. When he answered, it was with a heart-broken sob.
"Yes! I'm not good enough for him anymore! I don't think I ever was."
"You need to put on some clothes. Come on," Yao coaxed. Arthur couldn't shut up, though. It just kept spilling out of him, like pus from a wound.
"He's so good to me and so perfect and sweet and wholesome and I'm...I'm...this! Even before the rapist told me I was dirty, I wasn't good enough for him!"
"Arms through, please," Yao said as he gentle manhandled Arthur into a soft, long-sleeved shirt.
"He needs to have someone better. You know I'm right!"
"Arthur, listen to me. You are hysterical right now. You're going to dress, drink some tea, and go to sleep. If you can't do that, we're going to the nurse."
Arthur only then realized that he was hyperventilating. He forcibly calmed himself down.
"That's good. Here, drink your tea."
Arthur's hands were shaking so badly that the hot tea sloshed onto his hand. It was only then he realized how frozen he was.
"Easy," Yao said gently, and held the teacup for him until he could get a few sips down.
"I can't sleep. I need to talk to Alfred. I need to apologize," Arthur said. Yao pulled back his blankets.
"Just relax, Arthur. You need to rest and get warm. I will tell Alfred that you are sorry."
"I need to tell him. He has to know that I want better for him. I never meant to hurt him like I have. I'm so sorry."
"He knows. Lay down, Arthur."
The troubled teen accepted the inevitable and let Yao tuck him in.
"Are you leaving?" Arthur asked. His voice was very small and young sounding.
"I'll stay until your mother comes. She's on her way," Yao said. Arthur was too mentally exhausted to question why his mother was coming, and instead he surrendered to his entrapment. Yao would tell Alfred. Arthur could trust him.
Yao sighed quietly once Arthur finally passed out into a restless slumber. He took his phone out of his pocket and opened a new text message to Alfred.
Arthur is very upset. He's sorry. He wanted me to tell you that.
Yao sent the message and waited. He wondered if Alfred would respond. Francis had said he was down in the gym shooting baskets and working off some of his anger, but Tony had left to go find him just as Yao arrived to check on Arthur.
His phone buzzed. A new message.
Is he okay? I don't rly want to see him now.
Yao knew he had to handle the situation delicately. Alfred had to know Arthur was not just feeling a little regret, but rather he was having a mental breakdown.
He's not okay. He's trying to sleep now, but he's not okay. I know it's gotten messed up, but it might help if you came by.
Yao just didn't want Alfred to give up. It was certainly a horrible situation, but Yao liked to believe things were always darkest before the dawn.
The knock on the door came about ten minutes later. Arthur roused from his half-hearted sleep, still muttering apologies.
"Did he come? Is that Alfred?"
"I'll see," Yao replied. He opened the door and sure enough, Alfred was on the other side. He was sweaty and his face was carefully expressionless. His blue eyes were dull and flat—a sharp contrast to their typical sparkle.
"Alfred?" Arthur called out, struggling out from under the heap of blankets. His voice alone, weakened and utterly pathetic, cracked Alfred's mask. His eyes filled with concern and Yao knew all hope was not lost.
Alfred entered the room slowly, leaving Tony out in the hall to peer curiously inside. Yao thought it best to give them privacy. He stepped out.
"I'm s-s-sorry for what I did. I've just been hurting you and hurting you and I can't stop and I'm sorry. A thousand times I'm sorry."
"I believe you," Alfred said slowly. After standing awkwardly near the bed for a moment, he took a seat in the chair Yao had abandoned. Arthur wiped at his tears and sniffed rather pathetically. He was starting to feel silly now that Alfred had actually come. The realization hit him that no words could undo the damage he'd done to Alfred and their relationship in the past seven weeks.
"You can't forgive me. I mean...you would...but I can't ask for that. It's asking too much," Arthur said self-consciously. He was clenching the sheets tightly in his fists, unable to look Alfred in the eyes.
"Ask," Alfred said, after a long moment. Arthur shook his head, and fresh tears slipped down his cheeks.
"How can you forgive me if I can't forgive myself?" Arthur asked hollowly. Alfred nodded. He crossed to the bed and sat beside Arthur. He tilted Arthur's face up and wiped away the tears with the pads of his thumbs.
"Do you love me?" Alfred asked, with unusual softness. Arthur's tears came faster.
"Yes. Yes...I know I haven't shown it lately, but yes."
"Then ask me."
"Alfred...please forgive me. W-will you?" Arthur sobbed. Alfred could barely understand him.
"Listen to me, okay? I know most of the time I'm full of hot air or stupid ideas but I need you to really hear me right now. I'll fight for you. I'll do whatever it takes. But I have to know you want me to fight."
"I don't deserve that. Don't you get it? Why fight for someone who's dirty? Why do you still want me? You're too good for me. You've always been too good for me," Arthur replied in a rush.
Alfred let his cheeks go after pressing a quick kiss to the tip of Arthur's nose.
"Here. Look," Alfred said. He pulled his wallet out of his gym shorts pocket. From within the wallet he pulled out a photo, white along the places it had been folded, glossy everywhere else.
It was a simple photo, taken during their freshman year. Alfred was making a goofy face and Arthur was pressing a kiss to Alfred's cheek, his eyes closed sweetly in bliss. Arthur wished the photo was a portal that he could step through. He wanted to grab his past self by the shoulders and give him a good shake. How arrogant he'd been. How could he have ever thought that Alfred was the lucky one to have him? All that time he'd thought he'd been the one guiding Alfred...when really all along...Alfred was the one guiding him. Guiding him to be happy. Guiding him to loosen up. Guiding him to love with his heart instead of his head.
It physically hurt him to look at the photo.
"When I first came to this school, I was such a loser. I didn't have a single friend. I was always too loud or too shy, too awkward or too dumb. Nobody, not even my parents, believed I would ever amount to anything. But then you came. You thought I was handsome even when I couldn't bench press a wet noodle. You realized I needed glasses. How did I get through eight years of school without someone realizing I needed glasses? Nobody wanted to help me because I just rubbed everyone the wrong way. Until you. You believed I could make better grades and you helped me, all the time. When I wanted to start a club, you were right there with me. Sure, sometimes you got mad or frustrated with me, but for all the ups and downs...you never missed a game. Not once. You were the first person to really see me as something other than a screw up."
"You've never been a screw up. You're perfect. You've always been perfect," Arthur replied in a harsh whisper.
"Perfect for you...and you're perfect for me. Don't let all this mess people are talking about you and me make you forget the truth. You've made me happier than anyone else in the world. If you don't think I deserve that, then you have the power to take it away, but don't think you'll be doing what's best for me. I'll miss you till the day I die."
Arthur flung his arms around Alfred so tightly that the taller boy thought he might lose blood circulation. Arthur was crying against his chest and Alfred couldn't stop smiling.
"I won't ever take you for granted again. I don't want to hurt you," Arthur promised.
"I know. It's okay to make mistakes. You're human...possibly part book worm," Alfred joked weakly.
"Yao said something strange...he said my mum was coming?" Arthur asked confusedly, as they pulled away from the hug. Alfred gave him a small smile.
"Yeah, she knows about the Hallway Project. Your family made a big donation. Your mom was going to sit with me Friday...well, today now," Alfred said after a glance at his watch. "That was the big surprise."
"I almost showed up...with Celio...my mum would have killed me," Arthur realized in horror. Alfred winced at the name.
"Did you...really sleep with him?"
Arthur miserably nodded his head. "I knew it was wrong. I kept screaming at myself to stop but I just...felt so helpless. Everything felt out of control and I couldn't just make it all stop. It didn't work. I still feel..." Arthur stopped, as if he couldn't physically say the words. It was hard for Alfred to keep an open mind, because his jealousy felt like a monster inside him that wanted to smash things, but he needed to hear what Arthur had to say.
"What? What made you do that? What made you want to do it with me?"
"I feel like a whore. I have all these awful nightmares but sometimes they become wet dreams and I...I've had fantasies about what happened, only it's you, and it's so wrong but I can't help it! I'm scared to sleep, scared to touch you. I keep watching the video and thinking about him watching it, and you watching it..."
Instead of talking, Alfred captured Arthur's mouth in a heated kiss. It wasn't sweet or chaste—rather it was a hot, open mouthed, hungry kiss that went straight to Arthur's cock. The clothes came off hurriedly, gym shorts kicked off, shirts stripped and thrown half way across the room. Alfred's mouth went everywhere, over Arthur's vulnerable throat and his aching nipples and his sweat-slicked ribs.
"Alfred—"
"Artie...enough talking. Stop thinking. Just feel me."
So Arthur did. The room fell silent, except for Arthur's quiet panting and the noises of Alfred's tongue and lips working over Arthur's hardened cock. Alfred comforted him by the way he grabbed Arthur's hand and laced their fingers together. Only Alfred did that. When he smiled up at Arthur, love shining in his eyes, Arthur could think of nothing but one word, over and over again, louder than all the guilt and shame.
Beautiful...beautiful...beautiful...
Arthur's hand tangled up in Alfred's silky, thick blond hair, still a little sweaty, heavy as it slipped through his fingers, and that adorable, persistent cowlick still standing proud, unwilling to bend to Arthur's petting. That was all Alfred, too.
Just the two of them together, and no room for any of Arthur's ghosts.
Yao gave them an hour and then he knocked softly. Tony had left, and truthfully, he wanted to leave, too. He figured they'd both fallen asleep, but shortly after his knock, Alfred opened the door fully dressed and still very serious looking. Behind him, Arthur was sleeping heavily—peaceful and unburdened of his guilt.
"Is everything okay?" Yao asked.
"You kids need to get to your rooms. This is against the rules, you know," Mike intoned dryly from behind his computer. Alfred glanced at him, but dismissed him just as quickly. Mike was too interested in his game of Minesweeper to actually enforce any curfew rules.
"He's better, I think. We talked some. I don't exactly know where we stand, but I finally got through...I think."
"I knew you would," Yao said with a relieved smile. "Are you okay?"
"I thought...I thought I'd lost him today. I thought he didn't want me. A lot has happened and a big part of me is still really hurt...but I don't want to lose him. He's my...well...my Arthur."
"I understand," Yao said. They were interrupted by the arrival of Franklin, who took his job of guarding the hallway and Arthur's sleep more seriously than Mike did. Both Alfred and Yao decided not to linger any longer.
"So, will you be in the hallway tomorrow with Arthur's mother?" Yao asked. Alfred gave Yao a sleepy smile and a thumbs up.
"Yeah. I think this time, Arthur will be waiting for me."
The two friends parted with smiles.
It didn't take much convincing for Ivan to talk Alfred into ditching school after second period.
As they sat in the darkened theater of an R-rated movie (they'd sneaked in after buying tickets to a kid film), Ivan provided friendly support in the only way he knew how.
"I hear rumors that you've turned into a little bitch."
"Shut up. Gimme the popcorn!"
"I bought it. My popcorn."
"Ugh, whatever."
"Is it true? You crying all the time like a little baby?" Ivan asked with a darkly amused grin. Alfred rolled his eyes.
"Yes. I'm a twelve-year-old girl. Is that what you want me to say?"
"Da," Ivan confirmed. Alfred pouted.
"I've been going through a lot. So what if I cried in the hallway?"
"I'm just embarrassed for you, that's all. I guess it could be interesting though...having a vagina during sex. How is it?" Ivan asked. He generously allowed Alfred to take a handful of popcorn.
"Amazing. I think your mom had a good time last night—OW!" Alfred cried out as Ivan's fist impacted painfully with Alfred's shoulder.
"Keep talking. I'll make you really cry," Ivan threatened playfully...though his creepy smile would have scared the shit out of anyone but Alfred.
"Shut up. This is a good part," Alfred retorted. They watched the sex scene play out for a few moments before Ivan's voice grew thoughtful.
"If anyone gives you shit, just punch their fucking faces in," Ivan advised. Alfred rolled his eyes again.
"Alright, hold still and I'll do my best."
"Not me, you idiot. I get to make fun of you because we are brothers. If anyone else makes fun of you...then you punch their faces in. I will help."
"Thanks, Ivan, but it's whatever. So people make fun of me. What else is new? This time it'll be because I cried. Next time it'll be because I drop a pass. Or fail a test. Or say something stupid in class. When do people not have shit to talk about me?"
"Still. I'd hit them."
"It won't fix what's wrong with them. It'll just make them even uglier to look at."
They watched the movie almost till the end before Ivan gave most of the popcorn to Alfred and said, "I was thinking..."
"Don't hurt yourself."
"You're so funny with your American humor. One day I'll bury you in my backyard," Ivan said with a cheerful smile. Alfred smirked and swallowed a mouthful of popcorn without barely chewing.
"I was thinking...that you are a man I admire...despite being a twelve-year-old girl."
"Awww, careful, Ivan. Your gay is showing. You're getting sappy on me," Alfred teased with a smile. "Just admit it. You think I'm the shit. You'd probably have my babies or something if you could."
Another punch was all he got for his teasing. The credits began to roll.
"Come on. I gotta be in the hall soon. Arthur's mom is going to be there. Can you drop me off at the store?"
"Yeah, sure."
Ivan dropped him at the grocery store and Alfred started to load up his basket with the junk food he couldn't buy in the cafeteria, and some of Arthur's favorite cookies. They were the fancy little ones meant for old ladies to serve at their tea parties, but Arthur would eat a whole tin on his own and he'd even hide them from Alfred. Anything else he happily shared, so Alfred knew the bland little cookies were his favorites. What he'd really come for were some flowers. He took a long time to pick out ones he thought Mrs. Kirkland would like. Considering the money she was donating, and the way she was coming simply because he'd asked her, Alfred thought it was the least he could do.
"Um...excuse me, mam. Can I ask you something?" Alfred said to a nearby woman doing her shopping. She arched a brow and gave him a look as if she might recognize him.
"Yes?"
"These are flowers you could give to someone to say thanks, right? I mean, they're not like...flowers you give when someone's dead or something?"
"Uh...no. Those should be fine," she reassured. Alfred smiled hugely.
"Oh, good. Thanks!" With a bright smile, he took off for the checkout line, the crazy colored daisies tucked under his arm. They were died purple, blue, yellow, and green, and they were sprinkled with glitter. Alfred thought they were nice—girls liked glitter, right?
His phone vibrated in his pants pocket and he pulled it out while he waited his turn to check out. He had a text from Arthur.
Are you coming back to campus? Mum says she'll be in the hall. Says you invited her?
Alfred bit his lip, a little nervous that he had messed up somehow.
Are you mad?
Alfred sent the question and waited, but his turn came and so he had to finish checking out before he could check Arthur's reply.
It was sweet of you. I think we still need to talk, but I love you. So much.
Alfred smiled a goofy smile and shifted his bag of groceries to his other hand to reply, being careful with the flowers. It was a brief walk back to the school, and Alfred was glad Ivan hadn't waited for him. It was a good day for a walk, and Alfred felt like enjoying the spring sunshine. Winter had felt never-ending. He started to text Arthur back, completely absorbed in his phone, until his world exploded in pain.
Alfred hit the ground hard and felt the steel-toe boot bury into his ribs. Alfred knew the bones had broken as it was instantly painful to breathe. He saw the sun flash blindingly off a metal baseball bat as it came arching down towards him again. He curled up defensively even as his brain screamed at him—
It's HIM! I have to tell...have to tell...
Then Alfred blacked out.
Arthur took a deep breath. It shouldn't be as hard as it was to walk down a simple hall, but his mother had left to go join the crowd some time ago and Arthur was still in his room, just trying to prepare himself.
He could do it. He would open the door and Alfred would be waiting for him. He would block everyone else and he would go to Alfred. No matter what the press said or what students asked, no matter how many people said "I'm sorry" or "It's going to be okay"...he was going to be fine because Alfred would be by his side. He could face what had happened to him and he could talk about it—stand up for himself—because Alfred would hold his hand and he knew the other boy wouldn't let him fall.
He opened the door. The hallway was so full. Had it always been so full? The flashes of light exploded as the cameras began going off, because everyone anticipated that today would be the day. It was early. Mike had not even come on duty yet. Surely Alfred would be early today, though, since everyone else was and he had invited his mum.
That thought made Arthur feel a little like melting inside. His parents were quiet people. They didn't pander to the paparazzi, though it was naturally a part of their public lives. It was rare that his mother supported a cause. If she had come to the Hallway Project, if she thought it was good for him, then Arthur could finally trust that it was. His mother wouldn't have come to support something that would make him worse off than he'd been before. Arthur still had lingering fears about taunting the stalker, fears that grew more solid by the day, but everything had been quiet since Christmas. No threats. No more videos. Just Alfred and all his friends sitting outside his door and waiting for him to come to terms with everything.
He was ready. He'd hurt everyone, himself included, enough for a lifetime.
He saw Francis first, talking quietly with his mother in that charming way she'd always loved. Matthew stood with them, and the three flashed him warm, encouraging smiles. The hallway was covered in posters of support, messages from people Arthur knew and from those who were total strangers. He'd sneered at them on principal before, but now he cautiously made his way over to the closest one.
Healing yourself is connected to healing others. You're story has helped me tell my boyfriend what happened to me. Thank you for being brave. Thank you for coming back.
Arthur swallowed thickly. The sign near that one was written for Alfred.
Stay strong, Alfie! You're a knight in shining armor!
'Truer words were never written,' Arthur thought with a fond smile. He looked down the hallway, seeing for the first time the massive show of support. People he didn't know. People he did know. Other victims, others who just cared, others who wanted him and Alfred to have a happy ending. They hadn't seen a very good side of him lately. They'd seen him at his absolute worst...yet they were all still there.
So much of the time it seemed like high school was just a place where young people learned how to most effectively tear each other apart and perfect the art of cruelty to each other, but filling up his hallway was something good. Rare, and special, and powerful.
But Alfred was not among them. Everyone was staring at him, waiting, and even if Alfred was not there, he had to say something. He cleared his throat.
"I guess now it's my turn to wait for Alfred. Err...he is coming today, right?" Arthur asked, only a little self-consciously. Everyone laughed. The idea that Alfred would not come was absurd. Their faith in him was unwavering, and Arthur was more than a little satisfied to see that now others saw Alfred as he saw him—a hero. No matter what else, Alfred could be trusted to do the right thing, and to come through on his promises.
Arthur continued, reaching deep into his heart for the words.
"I've seen everyone out here and, honestly, it didn't always make me feel good. I've been angry, and scared, and sometimes I feel like I've lost myself. I'm incredibly blessed to have friends who put all of this together, who have been there for me both in public and in private, as I've tried to make sense of all this." Arthur looked to Francis, who smiled at him softly, pride shining in his eyes. "Thank you for your patience with me, and your unwavering support. I would be honored if I could join you...that is, if you'll still have me."
His mum held out her arms and Arthur closed the few feet of distance to hug her tightly.
"I'm so proud of you, Arthur. You're so very, very brave."
In the midst of all this, Arthur felt his phone vibrate. He pulled away from his mother's embrace, smiling to see it was Alfred calling. He accepted the call with a shaky smile.
"Hullo?" he said.
"This was his most recent call. Look, I hate to tell you this, but whoever owned this phone was mugged. They're loading him up in the ambulance right now. He's not doing so good, so you should call his parents or something," the random voice on the line didn't register. Arthur stood, not moving, trying to accept what he'd just heard. Finally, his voice started working without help from his brain.
"What? Blond teen? Blue eyes? Alfred Jones?"
"Oh, Jesus, I don't know, man. He's really bloody. I can't even tell what color his hair is. There's some busted glasses on the sidewalk. He bought a ton of candy bars, and tinned cookies..."
At the random mention of his favorite cookies, realization hit Arthur like a punch to the gut. He pocketed the phone and took off at a dead run for the parking lot.
A/N: Couldn't make you wait till Sunday. You seemed to really feel for Alfred last chapter, and I'm really glad that he emotionally connected, but at the end of the day, Alfred isn't the sort of boy who'd settle for anyone other than his true love. For Alfred, it will only ever be Arthur. He's in far too deep to walk away unless that's what Arthur asked of him.