November 12th

Arthur hates people. He really fucking hates people.

Like asshole people who park in the handicap spots, leaving him with nowhere to park his van. He's had to crawl out of the passenger's side of his van multiple times because of assholes like that. Or people who stand across the parking lot, clearly see him fall out of his chair, and don't come over to help him. He really really hates those people.

The guy's staring at him and smoking a cigarette while he's struggling in the slush, trying to pull himself into his tipped-over wheelchair.

If he weren't preoccupied with trying to get himself back into his chair, he'd flip the guy off. He probably will flip the guy off once he's seated again.

"Fucking winter. Fucking ramps. Fucking…"

"Dude, are you okay!?"

Arthur instantly recognises that voice and he feels his stomach sink down into the cold icy water that's currently freezing his fingers. Seriously, out of anybody who had to see him like this, why did it have to be him?

Alfred Jones, also known as the guy he's had a hopeless crush on since middle school, crouches down into sight. He has a worried expression on his too-handsome-to-be-legal face. "Are you hurt anywhere? Let me help you…" He stands and Arthur watches as he rights his chair and then seems to notice the asshole across the parking lot. For a moment, Alfred looks like he wants to go over and chew the guy out, but instead it looks like he takes a deep breath and then turns and flashes Arthur a smile that makes his heart flip like a dolphin performing tricks.

"You okay with me helping you up?"

Arthur could be totally suave right now; he could be witty and make a good impression on the guy that he'd been mooning over for forever.

Instead, he tosses his head and crosses his arms over his chest. "Won't be the first time somebody's helped me off my ass."

Alfred actually laughs, while Arthur internally beats himself over the head with a bat, and then moves behind him. "Okay, upsie-daisy!"

He slides his hands under Arthur's armpits and lifts and this is probably the closest Arthur will ever be to his crush, so he should savour every moment.

All he can think, though, is that this is probably the most embarrassing experience of his life and he really wishes that his chair would just sink into the ground with him in it.

Also, Alfred is surprisingly strong. He lifts him back into his chair without seeming to exert any extra energy and then walks to the front and settles his feet into their rests before charming him with another grin. "Your name's Arthur, right? I've seen you around before."

He really shouldn't feel any stupid chest butterflies right now; it's not surprising that Alfred would know his name. He's the only kid in their school in a wheelchair. Still, his traitorous heart ignores common sense and he feels his cheeks flush. "I…" He isn't sure what to say so he finally stammers out a "th—thanks," before he spins his chair back toward his van.

Alfred laughs his stupid obnoxious laugh that always carries down the hallways at school. "No problem! Any hero would help you out!"

Ah, yes, his little hero complex. It was well-known around school. Probably the only reason he'd stopped and helped him. Arthur can't help but feel a tint of bitterness seep into him, like the cold that had seeped through his clothing.

He might as well just go home now and change.

"Um," Except he's interrupted by a clearing throat. He turns his head and sees Alfred rubbing at the back of his head with one hand and—is he blushing? "I—My name's Alfred. I…are you doing anything later today?"

And for a moment, Arthur's pretty sure the cold has caused him to hallucinate. Maybe he's still lying in the middle of the parking lot and all of this is a dream.

He knows he's blushing now. "I—I don't have any specific plans." Besides working on homework, trying not to set the kitchen on fire again while making dinner, and maybe watching some Classic Doctor Who while his roommate was out with his girlfriend-of-the-week.

"Cause there's a basketball game tonight. My buddy's playing and I wondered if you might wanna go…"

The insane part of Arthur's brain unfortunately had control right now, as it blurted out, "Yes!" before he had a chance to actually think.

And Alfred beamed in response. "Great! Do you want me to pick you up at like five? We can go to McDonald's and then head over."

This is just too bizarre. Arthur's still half-convinced he's hallucinating. "That's fine. If my chair can fit in your car."

"My bro has a truck, no worries." Alfred grins again and then glances toward the ramp leading into his van. "You need help getting in?"

Definitely not. Although Arthur's half-panicked that he's going to fall again, just to add another helping of mortification. He shakes his head, though, and then rolls himself up the ramp and gets himself into the van, thankfully without incident, before turning his head. "I live at 1434 West Hickory Road. Bottom floor. If my roommate answers the door, tell him to piss off."

And he hurriedly closes the door at that, before he could say anything too stupid. For a moment, he just sits there and tries to calm his breathing. Then he turns and glances out the window.

To see Alfred turn and punch the air victoriously.

A/N: Based on a true story that my cousin(-ish) told me. Her old van was a bastard who liked just randomly deciding to not work, so one day she got thrown out of her wheelchair because of Mr. Van and some asshole just stood across the parking lot watching her while she tried to get herself back into it. I don't think she had anyone swoop in to save her tho... Just some prick watching her and being unhelpful.