Chapter fourteen – Get this over with

Arthur was very slowly pacing around, bored out of his mind. Today was the 5th November; Bonfire Night, one of the best nights in the world in his opinion. It was always freezing cold, so you'd have an excuse to wear a huge, fluffy scarf and drink warm drinks. Not only that, but you'd get to set off fireworks all night and eat chocolate brownies! Of course, school rules dictated that no pupil was to set off any fireworks. But the day Gilbert Belischmidt listened to a school rule would be the day the army replaced tanks with unicorns. So, there'd been an 'unofficial agreement' that anyone who wanted to celebrate with fireworks, food, and most likely alcohol, had better make it to the back of the school for eight pm.

But, Arthur had another six hours to kill before then. And recently his method of killing time hadn't been so successful.

A while back, when everything was okay and he was with Alfred every second of the day, Arthur's mind had been alert and awake – he could concentrate on a number of topics at once, keep himself easily amused, and quite easily have a laugh and a joke with his friends. But recently, for some reason or another, Arthur had just been completely out of it. He couldn't concentrate on his lessons, never really kept up with the conversations he was supposedly involved in with Owain, and nothing seemed to make him feel content. Not even playing the piano amused him any more.

All he wanted to do, it seemed, was just mope. Not do anything. At first, he couldn't make sense of it – what on earth was desirable about doing nothing?

And then, one of the many times he was doing nothing but thinking, it clicked.

The reason for his constant subdued mood was that stupid American. After all, that's all he seemed to think about these days.

Arthur wasn't in denial. He was still in love with Alfred – he knew that. He didn't want to be, but he was. Then, he'd asked himself the question – what was stopping him from marching up to Alfred and apologising?

The answer had been quite simple. First, he had nothing to apologise for. It was Alfred in the wrong, and therefore Alfred's responsibility to apologise. Of course, that wasn't really what was stopping Arthur. That was an easily avoidable problem, really. The reason why he and Alfred weren't together right now was because Arthur was scared. He was scared of the possibility of Alfred saying that he no longer loved Arthur. Scared at risking knowing that he'd let Alfred slip through his grasp.

Cowardly, yes, but also the truth.

So Arthur, feeling all sentimental because of his new subdued mood, had decided to go to the last place he remembered pretty much the ultimate level of happy.

Padstow docks.

He knew just visiting that place wouldn't make him feel happy again. On the contrary, it'd probably bring a wave of melancholic nostalgia. But Arthur was stuck. He had two options – he could either move on and fall in love again, or he could go into reverse, and try and repair the damage he and Alfred had done, and fix their relationship. He couldn't stay in the meaningless limbo of nothing forever, after all.

That's why he was now standing ankle-deep in water. He'd removed his shoes and socks, just standing in the shallows of the icy water, getting weird glanced from sailors preparing their boats to sail. Arthur didn't blame them – if he saw someone randomly standing in water for no apparent reason, he'd give them a weird look.

But there was a reason for his spontaneous paddling.

He was looking for something he'd never find. It'd take all the luck in the world, fate and countless other none-existent good luck charms for him to find what he really, really wished he could fine.

Perhaps, though, maybe if he crossed his fingers really, really tightly, then maybe… maybe would he find it?

The object that Arthur was looking for was something that he and Alfred had tossed into the ocean together at the beginning of September.

A bottle, and inside it two little notes – two very precious notes.

Back at the beginning of September, when Alfred had rescued him from the horrendous atmosphere of Starbucks with Owain and Francis, the American had taken them out on a boat, and they'd written their feelings for one another and sealed them inside a bottle they'd found, throwing them into the harbour. The harbour it's self was protected from the sea by a huge wall, keeping the rough ocean out. That usually meant items thrown into the harbour stayed there until they were fished out and disposed of.

That was Arthur's one little strand of hope – the one thing he could hold on to. Maybe, just maybe a fisherman hadn't found it yet. Maybe it'd got caught on a little rock pool somewhere. Maybe.

"Oi, you!"

Arthur groaned, turning to see an old, Irish fisherman. He knew that this guy was probably going to lecture him on standing in the middle of a busy dock and tell him to get out.

"You looking for this?"

Arthur felt his jaw dropping at the object the man held up.

The man was holding the bottle! Their note in the bottle! How? What? What? What!?

Arthur didn't care about the questions, he nodded hurriedly, and, with a shaking hand, accepted the bottle off the man, feeling it in his hands over and over to make sure it was real. It definitely felt real, and smelt it too. It practically radiated a salty, fishy smell.

"How did you know that this was mine?" Arthur blinked a few times, rolling down his trousers and putting his socks and shoes back on.

The man ignored the question, "You're Arthur Kirkland, aren't you?"

Arthur nodded.

"Alfred told me about you. He was the one who rented that boat off me back in September. He wouldn't stop rambling on about you, he wouldn't! Drove me insane! Going on about Arthur this and Arthur that. You could tell he was in love. Then, whenever I was clearing up the docks the day after, I found that wee bottle. I was about to throw it away, when Alfred came running up behind me, demanding I put down the bottle, that cheeky kid. Nevertheless, I gave him the bottle, and he explained that inside it were… how did he phrase it, again…? 'All the feelings of my wonderful relationship!' or something cute like that."

Arthur chuckled a little. How Alfred-esque.

"So he read the note, grinning like an idiot, and then gave me back the bottle, telling me to take care of it. I agreed, and so I kept the bottle. He came back again at the beginning of October, asking to see the note. Crying his eyes out, he was. He gave me back the note, asking me to take good care of it again." The man shrugged again, "And I guess that's why I gave it to you."

"But how did you know I was Arthur?"

"'Cause of his endless descriptions of you! He even showed me a picture of you! I figured seeing as you're both sentimental queers, you'd stop by here soon looking for this wee bottle, so there you go. Thank me, the poor fisherman roped into repairing a teenage romance."

Arthur wasn't too sure if he liked this man or not. Though, whenever he smiled roughly in his very fisherman-like way, Arthur suddenly decided he did like him.

"Thank you," Arthur nodded, "Without you… God, I don't know what would've happened."

"'S'no problem, mate. Enjoy the fireworks tonight!" He waved, before heading off to his boat, just like that.

Arthur stared at the note in disbelief. Alfred, that sly bastard, he thought fondly! The day after their date he'd snuck off to go and see what Arthur had written. Well, now it was Arthur's chance for revenge. He could see what Alfred had been thinking on that night, and remember the happy times.

Smiling sadly, Arthur sat up on the wall, pulling off the cork sealing away the pair of notes.

What surprised Arthur was the pair of notes were no longer a pair.

… They were a triplet.

Now, Arthur was pretty convinced that two notes couldn't make little baby notes, and paper doesn't just spontaneously reproduce, so what on earth was this third piece of paper, and where had it come from?

Only one way to find out.

Arthur opened all three notes, flattening them out on his lap gently. He saw his note and his ramblings about how much he loved Alfred. With a jolt he saw Alfred's note, but resisted reading it for the time being, and, finally saw the weird third note.

On it were two simple sentences, both in Alfred's untidy scrawl.

The first read, 'Aww Artie! That's so cute what you wrote! Love you too!" and beneath it, he'd dated it the day after their date. The second note was a lot shorter, a lot more painful to read, and a lot more powerful. Three little words and a date, that was all.

'I miss this.'

Dated…

One week ago.

Arthur wanted to cry. With happiness, with sadness, with confusion, with every emotion that anyone could feel. Alfred missed their relationship? What, was he just too cowardly just to come and apologise? Arthur shook his head, before he got too deep in thought about it, he wanted to read what Alfred had written about him.

Though, after reading it, and reading it again, Arthur had wished he'd waited until he'd gotten back to school to read it, because now, for one of the first times in his life, he was publicly crying. He wasn't too bothered about humiliation right now though.

"'You know, before I met you, I really was lonely. Not in the sense I had no friends – I had loads of them. But I didn't have an equal; no one treated me like you did. You're different, and I'm glad you are. I know that when you tell me you love me, you're not making things up to please me. You really mean it, and it takes an awful lot of effort to say that, because you're so adorable and easily-embarrassed. Even the smallest compliment off you makes me smile, and though it doesn't look it, my heart races when you look at me, smile at me, touch me. God I could explode at any moment.

"'Don't let me loose you, Arthur. If I do something stupid, then make me stop. Make me see sense. Even if I'm acting all arrogant, remember, I'm still there somewhere, and that means that I'll always want you back if I was stupid enough to give you away. I love you'"

Arthur read it aloud to himself over and over again, as if confirming the words were true. In comparison to his few words it made him look like an illiterate five-year-old. Alfred's grammar wasn't up to scratch, he'd made a few spelling mistakes here and there, but the general message was sent. And it was bloody romantic.

So, very quickly, Arthur scribbled a note in reply on the third note, underneath Alfred's commentaries.

'I miss this too'.

That was simple enough. He dated it November 5th, and slipped it back inside the bottle, and slipped the bottle inside his bag.

Now to find Alfred.

Luckily for Arthur, Alfred wasn't too hard to find. He was where he always was these days. Sulking in his room. Of course he didn't call it sulking – he claimed he was getting homework done, but Arthur knew that Alfred's sudden mass of detentions had a reason for coming his way.

Alfred frowned as he opened the door to Arthur's polite knock, "Wha'ddya want?"

Arthur curved a bushy eyebrow, "How pleasant. You coming to Gilbert's fireworks later?"

He shrugged, "If I feel like it."

"Jesus you're so organised."

"I hope there's a reason you're here other than to just piss me off."

"Actually there is," Arthur said, now taking a more serious approach to the situation. He reached inside his little messenger bag he'd slung quickly around his shoulders, and pulled out the bottle. Locking gazes with Alfred, he pressed it inside his hands, "Here."

Alfred was keeping a very convincing poker face, but Arthur knew that there must be some reaction from him. He wasn't that heartless, "Where did you get this from?" Alfred said in the same, unemotional voice that matched his face.

"A fisherman gave it to me," Arthur answered, matching the flat voice.

"And have you opened it?"

"You'll have to wait and see. But I'm going to the fireworks at the back of the school tonight. If you want to talk to me about it, then come and find me there," Arthur very nearly slipped into old habits and smiled at Alfred, luckily he managed to control his muscles, so they only twitched slightly, "Bye."

"Bye…" Alfred knitted his eyebrows together, obviously confused at what on earth was going on.

The door closed slowly, and Arthur turned around to face it. Half of him wanted to stay there and eavesdrop to see if Alfred was going to let his guard down with a reaction.

One thing Arthur did know though was that Alfred would have to turn up later. There's no way he wouldn't! He'd want an explanation for the notes inside the bottle, surely? If they both missed their relationship, then he wouldn't… he couldn't shy away from an opportunity to fix it.

After checking his watch, he decided he had about an hour to get ready.

Well, may as well try and be a bit gayer and care a little more about his appearance. He'd have to steal some shampoo off Francis, then.

Lars was pleased with himself. That was different for him, to be pleased with himself. Usually he was ashamed of himself, swearing at his stupidity, and then entering the old cycle of drinking and smoking. Well nope, that hadn't happened today. That was why he was so pleased with himself.

"I haven't had anything for twenty four hours!" he practically shouted when Kiku opened his dormitory door, and Lars flung his arms around the structure of the small boy, uncharacteristically happy, "No drugs, no drink, nothing."

Kiku's eyes widened a little, and a smile spread across his face, "Lars-san, that's brilliant!"

"Nope. You said that if I went clean for twenty four hours, you'd leave the '-san' off my name." Lars frowned.

"Was that really your motivation…?" Kiku laughed a little nervously, "Okay, a deal is a deal. Lars, that's brilliant." A crimson blush blossomed on his face.

Lars smiled, his grin only growing bigger, "I swear, I'm in such a good mood. I don't know, I just feel like a used to, absolutely ages ago… But better, because now I've got you."

Kiku nodded, "Yes, you do have me. And I have you."

"Listen, I'm sure you heard about Gilbert's unofficial firework show-thing going on at the back of the school in an hour? How 'bout you come with me? I won't drink a thing. Probably."

Kiku smiled, "I'd love to Lars, but you see I've got plans…"

"Oh? What're you doing?" Lars made sure to keep his tone perky, though his mood had sunk a little. He was really looking forward to a cliché, romantic night with Kiku.

"Ehh… well… ehh…" Kiku blinked nervously. Lars knew lying wasn't Kiku's strong point. He avoided it as much as possible, so there must be a good reason why he wasn't telling him where he was going.

"Don't worry, I shouldn't be so nosy, anyway," Lars smiled, trying not to let his good mood disappear, "But what time d'ya think you'll be done?"

Kiku smiled, glad for escaping the excuse, "I might be done around nine ish? I'm not sure, though, so I'll text you when we can meet, yeah? But don't come find me."

"Why?"

"I wouldn't want you to be standing around waiting for me when you could be with the others having fun…" Kiku tried -his lie more obvious than a huge pink elephant. Lars let it slide. He trusted Kiku – he must have a good reason for the lies.

"Well, I'll catch up with you later then, Kiku!" Lars smiled, waving as he walked.

As soon as he was gone, Kiku growled at himself with frustration. He felt terrible. He knew for weeks Lars had been trying his best to quit because he knew that Kiku felt uncomfortable about the whole drugs issue. Kiku was over the moon for Lars' clean twenty four hours. Maybe now he might actually have a chance of quitting. With a bit of rehab and new-found motivation from Kiku's little promises, then maybe he'd get out of the very deep hole he'd flung himself into.

But no. Just when Kiku could've joined him on a little celebration already had plans. Plans that he was feeling very guilty about. Plans that he never really wanted to make in the first place.

"Kiku, are you ready to go?"

Kiku frowned a little, feeling guilty at who was speaking to him, "You've got until half eight, okay? No more. I shouldn't be doing this for more than one reason, Heracles-san."

Heracles smiled, "You agreed one date with me."

"I know I did, but I shouldn't have," Kiku sighed. The other day, Heracles had pretty much demanded to take him out on a date this weekend. He wouldn't leave until Kiku said yes. At the time he thought 'oh what harm could it do?' after all, he could just reject Heracles after the date. The deal was that, after this one date, if it was Kiku's wish, Heracles had to leave him alone. In the long run, that was definitely a benefit for his and Lars' relationship. Then there'd be no awkward tension when Heracles happened to come up in a conversation.

"Don't be like that," Heracles smiled, "Please, just for tonight, be honest with yourself. Just come out with me, and let your heart rule your head, okay? Don't put a time limit on us just so you can see Lars. The only thing he's good for is giving you second-hand smoke."

"Don't be like that. He's trying to quite, Heracles-san, please, just if we're going to do this, I won't think about Lars if you don't talk about him."

"You dropped the '-san' on his name then?" Heracles raised an eyebrow, "I never thought anyone would get that privilege. He must be pretty special."

"He is which is why I regret giving into you. And I hope that if somehow he finds out about this then he forgives me. He's too good for me as it is."

"Never say that," Heracles frowned, "No one's too good for you, Kiku, no one."

"Please, let's just get this over with."

A/N

Hey X'D remember me? X'D Jeeze I need to update more X'D
Poor Heracles:'( poor Lars :'( poor Kiku :'( POOR EVERYONE! Is it bad that I'm starting to want Lars to win in that little triangle? X'D don't worry, it'll – probably – end up as GiriPan as the winning pair X'D
I'll try and include a little more Spamano, Nordis, RoChu and other little popular pairings in the side a bit more X'D
And Arthur and Alfred aren't made up just yet ;3 don't worry. Think happy endings~

Love you if you reviewed! Last chapter I got some utterly LOVELY reviews :') seriously, I was practically in tears! Thank you, you guys :')
Love you!