He looked tired. Unbelievably so.

Who was once the description of pure sunshine now seemed to be the very embodiment of a cloudy day. All spring in his step had faded, and the man didn't even look up when he entered the building. Alfred kept his eyes down, as if on auto-pilot; he seemed torn about even doing that much. Arthur pushed those initial thoughts to the back of his mind though; they weren't important now. Alfred had come back, and now he had another chance; he could make everything right again.

Arthur was much less surprised than he should have been, when the first thing he wanted to do the moment he saw Alfred was call out to him across the shop. He didn't of course, but oh, how Arthur was tempted. He realised soon after Alfred walked off further into the shop that Arthur was smiling widely to himself. Whether it was in joy or relief, he wasn't entirely sure… Maybe a mixture of both. After all, this was his chance. Everything would be back to normal and Arthur could have back one of the few people he considered to be his friend. All he had to do was wait for Alfred to plod over in that awkward way he always had done every time Arthur had scolded him. Arthur could then smoothly ask how his holiday and birthday was; Alfred would know that Arthur wasn't angry and they could both move on and actually enjoy each other's company properly again.

At least, that had been the plan.

However, it puzzled Arthur why Alfred hadn't come over to him yet. The American must have known by now that Arthur wasn't stationed on the fitting rooms; though maybe he wanted to pick up something specific and see him on tills. Yes. That must have been it. Arthur tried to reassure himself of the situation. Everything would be fine; everything would go back to normal, there was no reason for Arthur to be worried. He just needed Alfred to come and see him so he could fix this mess! Where on earth was he?

It was an uncomfortably long time for Arthur before he saw Alfred emerge from the aisles and head over to the tills. Arthur looked up from the customer he was serving, it was busy that day, of course Alfred would choose that moment, wouldn't he? He felt his stomach do a strange flip, the suspense before having to make his apology practically killing him; but he wasn't going to give up now that Alfred was this close. He had to make things right again. He glanced up again and felt himself frown.

Alfred had joined right onto the end of the queue. Now, this wouldn't usually be at all out of the ordinary; after all, one had to join the queue to actually be able to buy their items. However, in the current situation, it was out of the norm. Because it was Alfred. Alfred hardly ever queued anymore; he always seemed to wait until it was quiet enough to sneak right to Arthur's till. Arthur had even become accustomed to always logging onto a till that was close to either end of the queue so that Alfred had an easier job reaching him without getting too many dirty looks. But now, Alfred didn't even look up from the floor; he would usually try to get Arthur's attention at least.

'Is he really that worried about speaking to me again?' Arthur thought to himself worriedly and tried to focus on his work. He found that he kept glancing up in Alfred's direction to see if he had lifted his head for even a moment. Arthur began to get a sinking feeling in his stomach but tried to push it away; tried to stay positive. If Alfred wasn't able to come to Arthur's till, then he would catch Arthur's eye as he passed, and give Arthur the same carefree grin he always did when his plan wouldn't work. Arthur would then actually smile at him for once and maybe the next time Alfred came in, he would get another chance. That was the backup plan. Arthur heard Francis' voice ring out in a cheerful tone.

"Alfred Jones! We haven't seen you in quite a while indeed! How is everything?" Arthur glanced up, looking down the line of tills as his customer left and he pressed the call button, seeing Alfred's small polite smile as he conversed with Francis, too quietly for Arthur to hear the American's words. This wasn't right; why was Alfred being so quiet and reserved? That wasn't like him at all, something was definitely wrong. He continued working even though his stomach was now twisted into so many knots, his insides were practically making a basket; he knew his voice was strained and forced whenever he had to make polite conversation with the customers, his nerves and worries clearly getting the best of him for the first time in a long while. He and Francis handed their customers their bags almost at the same time, wishing them a good rest of the day. Arthur glanced up once more, his heart beating abnormally hard against his ribcage. This was it, his chance; he could finally try to make up for hurting Alfred so badly. After all this time, he could finally make things right again.

Alfred passed by his till.

He didn't look up.

His eyes didn't even flicker.

Arthur was frozen in place, staring at the back wall of the shop until his next customer caught his attention and snapped him out of it.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, I was miles away." Arthur excused himself smoothly and carried on with his work.

Alfred hadn't even looked at him. Just what had Arthur done to him? And if it really was so serious that Alfred wouldn't even be able to look Arthur in the eye…

Why had he come back at all?

Arthur frowned in thought as he drove back to his flat after work. The American knew that Arthur had been there, and yet he said nothing. Why would Alfred go through all the trouble to go back to the shop when he wasn't even able to look at him, let alone talk to him? With his profession, the American could surely afford to shop somewhere else, so why go through the obvious pain of setting foot in there again? The truth finally dawned on Arthur as he flopped down onto his sofa after taking off his shoes and coat; he groaned and dragged a hand down his face. Arthur remembered the 'Boxing Day incident'.

That was bad enough in itself, but what he really remembered was the lengths Alfred had gone to so that they would both be able to set foot in the establishment, where their embarrassment took place, without a feeling of dread overcoming both of them.

And now, that was what Alfred was doing. He was forcing himself to face what happened; he was coming back for the lone reason that he didn't want to not be able to go back.

That thought damn near broke Arthur's heart.

"You went back?" His brother's voice was obviously worried as it cracked over the speakers of his computer. Alfred sat on the chair in front of the desk solemnly, looking away from the screen and down into his lap as he rubbed his arm.

"Yeah…"

"Alfred…" Matthew's soft tone still made Alfred flinch slightly.

"I had to." He said weakly.

"Alfred, I thought we agreed that you wouldn't go there anymore." Matthew told him gently and Alfred sighed.

"I know, Matt… But… I just-"

"You had to."

"I had to." Alfred shut his eyes tightly, hunching his shoulders like he was trying to shrink in on himself. Matthew watched him silently and sighed.

"I understand, Alfred." He said gently.

"You know how I work."

"I do. And I think that's pretty damn admirable of you." Matthew smiled kindly at his brother. "You're dealing with this in your own way and that's good." A short silence fell between them. Matthew was the one to break it, taking a breath a letting it out as a small sigh. "Well… What was his reaction when you went back there?" He asked and noticed how Alfred's brow furrowed and his body tensed.

The name 'Arthur' had become something like a poison for Alfred. Matthew had become so used to his brother telling him stories of his encounters with the Englishman that Matthew couldn't help but let the name slip every now and then. He quickly put a stop on that habit, though; every time that man's name was mentioned, Alfred would become distant, a distinctly depressed aura surrounding him. Even just the mention of the Englishman without saying his name seemed to cause Alfred a strange kind of pain.

"I dunno." Alfred shrugged, still not looking at the screen.

"You don't know?" Alfred nodded.

"I didn't look."

"You…" Matthew frowned slightly in confusion.

"I didn't look at him. I couldn't. I just went in, bought something and left." Alfred admitted quietly. "I got served by the French guy. Talked to him a little."

"So you just want to work on being able to go back there?"

"I guess. But…" Alfred trailed off, causing his brother to narrow his eyes.

"Alfred." Matthew said slowly, already sounding disapproving of what he was about to hear.

"I don't want to just…"

"Alfred, he really hurt you."

"But it wasn't that simple, Matt." Alfred defended quickly. "Something was wrong when it happened. I pushed him too far, and I think… if I can make it up to him-"

"He's the one that needs to make it up to you, Alfred." Matthew said firmly. "No matter what was wrong, he shouldn't have talked to you like that. It's obvious that you're not over it."

"Well…" Alfred frowned slightly; he finally lifted his head to look at his brother's face on the screen. "I'm never going to know for sure if I never seen him again." His voice was quiet but firmer than before. Matthew couldn't help but feel a little relieved at his brother's resolve; even through his worry. This seemed more like the Alfred he knew.

When Arthur saw Alfred next, he was far more prepared. Or at least, he certainly felt more prepared; he was more determined than anything else, but that was beside the point. He now had a plan to persuade Alfred to give their friendship another chance; such a cunning plan that Arthur would be lying if he said he wasn't positively chuffed for thinking it up all on his own. All he needed was for Alfred to come over to him so he could put the damn thing into action!

If Alfred wasn't going to make the first move and confront Arthur, then he had no choice but to do it himself.

Arthur still had reservations about the whole idea, even after coming up with the plan; after all, he had never been very fond of being the first to apologise –if he would apologise at all. Up until two years ago, Arthur would never have apologised, even if his life had depended on it; a few select times, it had depended on it, and still Arthur had refused to even admit his wrong doings. However, this was probably the first time where Arthur would gladly jump up and scream his apologies from the rooftops. It was the first time in years where Arthur truly felt as though he was in the wrong; the guilt was near unbearable and he knew that he would do practically anything to have the usually sunny American back to his old self again. To be able to have things the way they were before Arthur mucked it up. He wouldn't be frightened anymore. Arthur had decided that no matter what happened, he would apologise to Alfred, make everything right again, and not be so hesitant about being a little vulnerable for once. Arthur knew that Alfred wasn't the sort who would want to hurt him in any way, so why should Alfred be afraid of Arthur hurting him from now on? Arthur wouldn't let it happen. He was fixing this.

It seemed that Alfred had had the same sort of revelation –or at least that was what Arthur chose to believe, it made him feel better to think they were both on roughly the same ground- if the way he was hovering by the end of the queue was any indication. Was this finally Arthur's chance? He couldn't let it pass him by this time. The moment was ripe; the queue practically non-existent and the customers very few in number. The American took a hesitant step towards the tills -it seemed, as Arthur was watching him from the corner of his eye; he'd always had a much better grasp of subtlety compared to Alfred- before finally collecting his nerve and making his way over to Arthur. The Englishman could tell that it was only meant to be a short visit; Alfred was carrying only one item and that didn't give him nearly enough time, but at least Alfred was willingly seeing him again. Arthur had all his words prepared; he knew exactly what he wanted to say and how he was going to say it, or, if failing that, at least how to tell him that Arthur still wanted his friendship.

When Alfred finally stood in front of him, Arthur's words lodged in his throat.

Even with Arthur standing right in front of him, Alfred still didn't look up; he couldn't. Arthur could see that much; it was written all over the American's face. It was obvious; Alfred was terrified. He was so scared that he was going to do or say something that would set Arthur off again, but Alfred didn't have to worry about anything; Arthur was going to set things right again.

So why couldn't Arthur say anything?

"Good morning." Arthur heard himself say. When Alfred's response was so mumbled that Arthur couldn't even hear it, he felt his chest tighten painfully. Arthur knew he had to say something; he had to make sure Alfred knew that it hadn't been his fault, that it was okay to just talk again, so why wouldn't he just say it? Arthur realised that even with such a strong feeling of regret, his mind just had a block which lay between his mind and his mouth. In that case, Arthur concluded that if he wasn't able to properly convey his apology to Alfred yet, then the least he could do was lift some of the weight from his mind. "The weather's fairly grotty today isn't it?" Arthur made pointless small talk as he purposely fumbled with the hanger of the shirt Alfred had placed in front of him. He had never really made small talk before; Alfred had always been the one to start the conversations, especially when they first met. Which was probably a reason as to why Alfred's reply was a rather hesitant and confused hum of acknowledgment rather than a coherent stream of actual words. Arthur was beginning to believe that all was lost after all, if the American didn't even engage in the conversations, until he heard familiar sheepish stuttering.

"U-um… 'G-grotty'?" Alfred mumbled, adjusting his glasses; the downward angle of his face threatening to make them slip right off the end of his nose. Arthur smiled to himself slightly; Alfred still wouldn't look at him, but it was progress nonetheless.

"Yes; grey, cloudy, dark." Arthur explained with a small chuckle. "Just, generally unpleasant. That will be seven pounds please." He smiled and Alfred jumped, never lifting his head as he rummaged through his bag to find his wallet. "It seems Summer is finally over after all. It will get cold and rainy soon enough." It was a shame that Alfred couldn't see Arthur's smile; it might have been able to reassure him a little more.

"Well it is England…" Alfred said absently without thinking and stiffened almost as soon as the words left his mouth, handing the money over with his slightly wide eyes fixed on the counter. Arthur noticed the reaction and tried to ease his fear of being reprimanded with a another small laugh.

"Well, if there's one thing we British pride ourselves on, it's our weather." He said sarcastically, his voice giving away the small smirk on his face. Alfred frowned slightly, seemingly confused about what was happening. Arthur put Alfred's receipt in his bag and held it out to him. "Have a nice day." It seemed that Alfred hadn't expected their exchange to be so short.

"O-oh." Alfred reached out for the bag with a small nod and Arthur took his chance.

To this day, Arthur still doesn't know why he did it. He doesn't know what he was thinking at that moment or what possessed him to actually go through with what he did. It may have been his desperation; his overwhelming desire to just get Alfred's attention no matter what so he could finally start to make it up to him. To just get Alfred to finally look him in the eye and see how sorry he was.

As Arthur handed over Alfred's carrier bag, he made sure that their fingers brushed; just the lightest touch of skin but the movement was very deliberate. He saw how Alfred's body twitched slightly, as though Arthur had just given him a small electric shock. Alfred himself was bewildered to say the least; he stared down at the counter and tried not to overthink anything again. It could have very easily been an accident, Arthur was never one for physical contact to begin with; however Arthur had also never really been one to start conversations or speak casually and that was what he was doing at that very moment. Alfred gripped the bag and felt another brush of skin as he pulled his hand back; that had felt like a much more deliberate action than before. Like he was trying to get his attention… But did Alfred dare even risk it? Risk trying to look at Arthur's face so soon after so much had happened? But what was Arthur trying to do? Alfred felt compelled to hope; he just had to hope, he had to find out, he had to see for himself.

Alfred hesitantly lifted his gaze upwards… And he saw the most genuinely sympathetic and caring expression on Arthur's face. His heart clenched painfully as he looked Arthur in the eye for the first time in far too long. God, Alfred had missed him so much; he had missed seeing Arthur so badly… And seeing the man's expression after spending so long convinced of his hatred; how could he not hope? Alfred's eyes darted back down and he bit his lip slightly, clearing his throat and giving Arthur a small nod in response.

"… You too." Were the only quiet words Arthur could hear before Alfred turned and left. The eye contact had barely lasted two seconds, Alfred hadn't even smiled; he had just looked lost and hurt. But if he had seen just the slightest ounce of Arthur's remorse, then that was good enough for him; that was all Arthur wanted. A second chance; a chance to make things right again. He hadn't fixed anything yet; not in the slightest.

But it was progress.

Arthur heard his colleague's approach more than he saw it; recognising the familiar shy shuffles of feet and nervous presence of the boy he worked with. It was almost funny how the lanky boy could seem so small when in fact, the redhead was so much taller than him, standing a good head taller than Arthur at least.

"Haven't seen you in a while Henry." Arthur said suddenly without looking up from the clothes rail, seemingly taking the freckled boy by surprise. Arthur chuckled to himself slightly despite the marginally sour mood he was in that morning.

"O-oh! Yeah, we've been put on a lot of different shifts, haven't we?" The cockney boy chuckled nervously, twiddling his thumbs. They both stood in silence again, Henry shuffling his feet in an awkward manner as Arthur carried on with his work, putting various clothes on hangers and putting them on the rails.

"Is there something on your mind, Henry?" Arthur sighed, finally looking up from his work to see the boy's sheepish expression. "It's fairly clear that you have something to say. Is something troubling you?" He asked with a smile, small but genuine. Henry looked down for a moment before shaking his head and turning his eyes back to Arthur worriedly.

"No… Is something troubling you?" The redhead asked hesitantly, causing Arthur to raise his eyebrows at him in surprise.

"I-… I'm sorry?" Arthur was a little puzzled by the question. Henry cleared his throat before speaking again.

"It's just… I know it's not my place to ask or anything. It-it's none of my business and feel free to not say anything cause I know that-" Henry cut himself off mid-sentence when he noticed Arthur's 'do-get-on-with-it-please' expression. Knowing that he was rambling, Henry cleared his throat again and looked Arthur in the eye. "Has something happened?" Arthur's eyebrows rose a little higher in near astonishment. "I know it's not my place to ask but you've been acting different recently. Y'know, in a bad way." Henry's brow was creased with worry and genuine concern for his colleague and friend; Arthur couldn't help but feel a little touched.

"Thank you for your concern Henry, I do appreciate it. But don't worry, I'm alright."

"Are you sure? I-I'm not the only one who's noticed. Francis said he saw it too and you've been really down recently."

"Francis exaggerates."

"I know you don't like to talk about stuff like this but you know I'll help out if you need… someone to talk to? Or something?" The redhead offered gracelessly; it was clear that he didn't say that sort of thing to people often. Arthur could practically feel the second-hand embarrassment coming off of Henry in waves as he cleared his own throat.

"Really Henry, it's fine."

"Is it something to do with that American guy?" Arthur froze and looked at Henry wide-eyed for a moment; as soon as Henry's face flashed with panic, worrying that he'd said something he shouldn't have, Arthur held up a hand.

"It's fine, Henry, it's fine." He assured him, calming the boy's nerves, though Arthur was still frowning. "Why do you think-?" Arthur began but closed his mouth when his voice refused to work and re-thought his words. "How do you even know that I've been talking to an American?"

"He's around a lot." Henry shrugged sheepishly. "We would say hi to each other, or smile or wave or somethin' when we caught each other's eye." He chuckled. "A kind of, 'Oh! It's you again, hello!' sort of thing, yeah?" He smiled slightly as Arthur looked back at his rail with a small smile of his own. As Arthur had thought, Alfred was just a friendly person in general, greeting everyone with a smile regardless of whether he knew them or not. It made him feel worse to realise that he was probably the reason that Alfred wasn't smiling anymore. "After a while," Henry continued. "We'd bump into each other in the shop and we just started havin' a chat, y'know? He's a pretty cool guy!" His smile slowly faded as he saw Arthur's expression and sighed. "He's not acting like himself either." Henry told him in a quiet voice and Arthur looked up worriedly. Were Arthur's thoughts right about Alfred's change in behaviour?

"What do you mean?" He asked a little too quickly but Henry didn't really notice, scratching the back of his head as he came to stand next to Arthur in front of the rail, trying to look busy as they spoke.

"He's just… Sad. I think. That's what it looks like anyway. I didn't ask, obviously." Henry told him and shrugged one shoulder. "You two seemed like really good friends. So… I wondered if you guys fell out or something y'know?" He looked over at Arthur in concern. "Is that what happened?" When Arthur was silent, Henry nudged him gently with his elbow. "You don't have to say anything. I just wanted to know that you were okay." He smiled. Arthur looked at him out the corner of his eye and sighed, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards despite himself.

"You're a right little git, you know that, lad?" Arthur chuckled fondly and sighed again. "I warn you. There are aspects to this story that you may not be comfortable with."

"Oh, no that's fine." The boy just smiled, shaking his head. "I already know you fancy the bloke."

"Oi!" Arthur prickled and raised his hand as though he was about to give Henry a clip round the ear. Henry flinched and covered his mouth, grinning.

"Sorry! Francis did tell me that one." He chuckled sheepishly as Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose.

"That bloody-… Oh, I am going to murder him." He muttered to himself and folded his arms. "Francis has a habit of stretching the truth, Henry. Don't forget that." Arthur told him sourly.

"So… You don't fancy him?"

"Ahh…" Arthur made a non-committal sound and a vague hand gesture, his face contorted in a strange, awkward expression. Henry nodded in understanding.

"It's complicated, isn't it?"

"Hm." Was all the redhead received as an answer; Arthur went back to his work and seemed incredibly focused on the clothes he was hanging.

Eventually, Henry was able to coax out the main points of Arthur's predicament, learning how Arthur had said all those horrible things and how he regretted each word as soon as it left his mouth. Arthur himself looked downright depressed after he had finished; his head hung low as he pinched the bridge of his nose or ran a hand through his hair. It would be clear to anyone how much Arthur regretted what had happened between them. Henry let a silence hang in the air for a while before humming in thought, thinking it all over.

"I don't think you should worry about it." Henry shrugged and Arthur gaped at him.

"Were you not listening to a word I just said, lad?" Arthur asked flatly. The redhead offered him a kind smile.

"You're not a bad guy, Arthur. You think you are, and maybe you used to be a bad guy, I dunno. But you're definitely not one now. Not in my opinion at least."

"Why are you…?"

"I bet that American bloke thinks the exact same thing. He's probably giving you some space or something, if he knows you well." Henry chuckled. "I mean, c'mon Arthur, don't think so low of yourself! You helped me out loads when I first got hired, and you're still the person I get along with the most. You are a good person. I mean, I like you." There was a second's pause before Henry frowned a little and quickly added, "No homo." Arthur couldn't help but laugh. "Besides, he came back, didn't he?" Henry leant on the clothes rail, his smile widening a little when Arthur looked down in thought. "I would have thought, if he wanted nothing more to do with you at all, he wouldn't go anywhere near this place, right?"

"Well, that's not exactly how it works-"

"But from what I can understand," Henry continued through Arthur's mumbled protests. "He hasn't been exactly avoiding you either."

"Well… I…"

"Whatever you seem to be doing right now, that seems to be working. Don't worry about it and try not to force it too much." The redhead shrugged one shoulder and stood up straight. "It seems to be getting better slowly on its own, so just keep at it, give it some time, and things will work out for the best. You'll see." Henry smiled gently and Arthur raised an eyebrow at him before chuckling, getting back to work properly.

"Oh, don't be such a girl, Henry." Arthur teased and offered a thankful smile. "Thank you though. I appreciate that." He took a breath and patted the boy's shoulder. "Go on, get back to work before Natalia catches you. I'm fine here."

"Aye aye." Henry grinned and gave Arthur a short wave as he left. "See you later Arthur, have a good day!"

Alfred looked around as he plodded along slowly down one aisle of the shop; he wasn't waiting for any clothes or items to catch his eye, but rather he was searching for a familiar face in the form of blond hair and impressively sized eyebrows. He had promised his brother as well as himself that he would try and distance himself from the man as much as he possibly could, but Alfred had never been the sort to follow his own advice with any real resolve. However, it seemed that the familiar head of blond hair was nowhere to be seen; what he found instead was a mop of bright orange hair and freckles.

"'Ello, you!" The young man's voice rang cheerfully when he noticed Alfred walking towards him. "Haven't seen you for a while!" Alfred couldn't help but smile; the ginger's accent always reminded him of something straight out of 'Oliver!'

"Did you miss me?" Alfred teased. The usual bounce in his voice wasn't there, but he would admit that he felt a little better at seeing a friendly face. The redhead laughed and put a hand over his heart.

"My life was empty." He grinned and Alfred chuckled.

"No homo?"

"No homo." He grinned and laughed again. Alfred smiled and came to stand beside him. "Your name's… Henry, right?" He asked and the young man nodded happily.

"Yep! That's me! Sorry mate, I can't remember your name at all if I'm honest." Henry told him sheepishly.

"What do you think it is?"

"… 'That American bloke'?" Henry grinned, drugging his shoulders.

"Close. It's Alfred." Alfred chuckled slightly; he felt a little better having spoken to someone cheerful. Henry snapped his fingers like he'd just had an epiphany.

"Alfred! That's the badger!" He chuckled and straightened out a jacket on its hanger. He looked at Alfred with a cheery smile. "Did you want to talk to Arthur? I think he just went upstairs, so you can wait around for him if you like." He offered. Alfred didn't have time to find Henry's Briticism endearing; he looked away and hunched his shoulders, shrinking in on himself a little as any happiness his face had previously held melted away. Henry studied him for a moment and sighed, turning his attention back to his work. "You two still haven't made up then." He assumed quietly.

"H-how did you even know?" Alfred looked up, surprised if not a little embarrassed that he could be read so easily.

"I could kinda tell." The redhead smiled and shrugged one shoulder. "Seeing as you only ever came here to see Arthur, I assumed you guys were good friends. Or were, at least."

"That's what I thought…" Alfred mumbled, looking at the floor with a small sigh.

"I think you're still friends." Henry said and Alfred looked up at him, not seeming at all convinced.

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, cause he looks just as miserable as you are!" Henry nudged Alfred gently with his elbow, trying to lift his spirits a little. Alfred seemed to perk up a little in interest.

"He does?"

"Oh, yeah! Saddest bloke this side of the Thames!" Henry sighed, shaking his head in despair. "Poor bloke. Feels completely heartbroken about what happened, he does. Bless him."

"Yeah, well he's not the only one." Alfred muttered quietly.

"Hm?" Henry hummed, thinking Alfred was talking to him; the American quickly backpedalled.

"Oh! Uh- n-nothing! So, he really feels bad?" Alfred asked hesitantly.

"So you did have a fall out, then." Henry nodded to himself and hummed in thought. "Well, that's all I can think of, seein' as he's been much happier than usual up until a few weeks ago. And now, he's downright depressed! At least, that's what I can gather."

"He's been happier before that?" Alfred asked, for some reason focusing on that part of the sentence.

"Yup. A right happy bunny, he was." Henry nodded. "Didn't like to admit it, mind; but we all noticed it. Francis –my manager- swears down, he does, that it's all to do with you. Caught him smiling to himself and acting like a right twit, he did. Francis said he's never seen Arthur work so hard!" The young man laughed and cleared his throat. "Sorry. I'm ramblin' ain't I? I tend to do that." He chuckled and Alfred shook his head.

"Nah, it's fine. It's just… I kinda think that's hard to believe y'know?"

"He really is a good guy!" Henry protested, trying to protect Arthur's honour.

"Why is he always so cold to everyone then?" Alfred looked away, letting out a small, defeated sigh.

"He's not! Well…" Henry frowned in thought; he didn't want Alfred to think badly of Arthur, but then again, how was one supposed to describe a person like Arthur Kirkland and do them proper justice? "It's more complicated than that. It's like, a defence mechanism." He explained. When Alfred just looked at him with an unimpressed, not to mention unconvinced, expression, an idea popped into Henry's head and he smiled. "Let me tell you somethin' that happened last year. If you got time of course." Alfred thought about it for a moment and shrugged.

"I don't have anywhere to be." He would have to admit, learning something new about Arthur did appeal to Alfred; and seeing as Henry appeared to think so highly of the Englishman, he thought he might as well hear him out. There was nothing wrong with that, right? It looked like Henry was very happy about his agreement.

"Fantastic! Right. So, it was around mid-October I think…"

Arthur had offered to take Henry home that day; it turned out that his parents had to work late and since the redhead had no real alternative of getting home other than taking an overpriced taxi, Arthur stepped in. They had both walked out of the staffroom to witness the end of Natalia reprimanding a young girl, most likely a Christmas temp worker, for not formally requesting to take a day off.

"Telling one of us is all fine and good, but unless you tell us in good time and fill in one of the forms then there's not much we can do." She scolded, sighing in frustration. "We'll have to just cancel your shift and get someone in to cover for you. Next time, don't just tell us a week in advance, fill in a form, alright? Good. Go on, go home." The manager dismissed her and went back to her office, leaving the girl in the corridor, hanging her head and looking at the floor. Henry and Arthur walked behind her as they all made their way down the stairs to leave. Arthur seemed worried about her, his brow creased with concern as he looked after her; when he voiced this concern, the young woman just nodded and hummed her acknowledgement, only proving to increase Arthur's unease. Henry was worried about her as well; and he was sure that he hadn't been the only one to hear the strain in her voice. The girl was the first to sign out and head to the door, but Arthur called out after her again, using a voice that was caring and soft.

"Are you sure you're alright, poppet?" He asked her gently. The girl turned to them with a nod and a smile, but tears were falling from her eyes. Arthur's expression instantly softened as he walked over to her and rummaged in his bag. "It's a good thing he gave me these after all…" He mumbled to himself as he pulled out a packet of pocket tissues, pulling one out and handing it to the poor girl, who accepted them gratefully. "Don't let them see you cry, love. It's just a crappy job." Arthur told her, putting a consoling hand on her shoulder. Henry could tell the poor thing was trying to hold back her sobs; she hiccupped as she told Arthur how she had already told them a week beforehand that she wouldn't have been able to work a certain day. No one had told her what to do in that case and she had only recently started working there; she was so scared of getting fired before her temp time was up, she didn't want to let anyone down because it was her first time working. Arthur listened to her until she finished and rubbed her shoulder gently in comfort, letting the young girl get everything off her chest.

"They wouldn't fire you over something like that." He told her reassuringly. "And you're not letting anyone down. You told them a week ago and they didn't do anything about it; no one told you what you were meant to do if you couldn't work a certain day. How were you supposed to know who you were meant to talk to if they didn't tell you?" Though the girl sniffled a little, she nodded and Arthur gave her a soft smile. "You're doing a wonderful job, and just remember that you're getting paid one way or another so just leave them to it." Arthur's smile widened a little and he leant in a little like he was telling the young woman a secret. "Listen, the managers here are a bunch of unorganised twits who never seem to be able to handle themselves; so always tell yourself that it's not your fault. Alright? Good girl; come on, let's get out of this place before they change their minds and lock us in." Arthur smiled when the girl chuckled and nodded again.

"He really did that?" Alfred asked, rather bewildered by the story. Henry nodded, smiling happily at the memory.

"I was surprised too, to be honest. But it really happened; you can ask him yourself if you don't believe me." Henry chuckled. "He walked with her to where she was getting picked up and made sure that she would be alright on her own and that she felt better before we finally left, and then he took me back to my house." Henry grinned as Alfred looked down in thought, trying to picture the events of the story. "That's the kinda thing I'm getting at, y'know? He acts like he'll beat you if you look at him funny, but really, Arthur's just a huge softie." Henry chuckled and looked past Alfred to see the Englishman closing the staff door wearing his coat and bag; Arthur's shift was over and it would be the perfect time for the two men to talk it out. However, Arthur seemed to be in his own world and didn't notice them, heading to the front of the shop so he could go home.

"You okay, dude?" Alfred's voice cut through Henry's daze and the young redhead jumped.

"Arthur's leaving, you should go after him!" He blurted out. Alfred stared at him for a moment before turning to see Arthur's back leaving them behind. Alfred didn't even have any time to make up an excuse; Henry was already nudging him in Arthur's direction. "He's an Englishman; he's awkward by nature. But trust me, he really wants to talk to you!" He didn't give Alfred time to argue, ushering him in Arthur's direction before scuttling back to his work as though nothing had ever happened.

Alfred looked back at Henry for a moment before he realised that he was already heading after Arthur, as though his feet were moving on their own. He thought over the story Henry had told him as he walked through the shop. It was strange, how the way Arthur acted in the story seemed so out of character for him, and yet –Alfred realised- he could imagine Arthur doing those things. He could imagine him caring about those who had been put down and looking after those who were having trouble. Alfred remembered how cold Arthur was to him when they first met, but then he also remembered how much of a mother hen Arthur could be, and how much he had fussed over Alfred at times. The Englishman was awkward about some things, no doubt about it, but he was also caring and considerate of others and looked after the people he cared about and trusted. He knew it wasn't entirely Arthur's fault for what happened. And he also knew that things certainly weren't going to get better if he didn't make an effort. If what Henry said was true…

Alfred thought back on Arthur's expression a few days prior; how genuine and concerned and caring that smile had seemed. Did Arthur really want to still be around him? He thought over the story again in his mind as he walked out of the shop. Alfred thought, if the Arthur he knew could act with such care and concern for the people around him, then the Arthur that most people knew, the Arthur that the Englishman himself sometimes hid behind, was surely just a front. A shield to protect him from whatever it was that he was hiding from. Alfred was sure that Arthur had been letting that wall between them down, albeit slowly; maybe that was why Arthur had exploded at him, maybe he hadn't been ready for that or something. Alfred looked around and found a familiar head of blonde hair sitting on the wall where they had always talked. 'Well…' Alfred thought to himself nervously. 'Looks like he's a little more ready now. Trouble is… Am I?' He steeled himself and started off down the pavement. If Arthur was putting in the effort to be friends again, then Alfred would be able to do the same.

Alfred paused as he came a little closer to Arthur. He looked tired. Incredibly tired. He felt a flurry of concern wash through him as he thought about whether the Englishman was eating properly or getting enough rest or if his was sick or working too hard. His thoughts came to an abrupt stop however, when he saw what was in Arthur's hands.

Arthur was pulling out a cigarette. Alfred frowned. He had never smoked around him before… Had he only just started? Or had he always smoked and Alfred just never saw?

Arthur looked up, having seen someone in the corner of his eye; his eyes lit up with surprise, his heartbeat increasing a little as his mind went blank on what to say.

"O-oh!" Was the only response Arthur could muster before he gathered his bearings a little; a small smile on his face. "Hello! I um- I didn't expect-" He cleared his throat, frowning slightly in annoyance that his words were failing him. "Anyway. How are you?"

"Um…" Alfred didn't look Arthur in the eye and remained standing; it made Arthur's elated heart sink a little lower. "Fine. I-I'm fine." Alfred said awkwardly, his eyes focusing on the cigarette. Arthur noticed Alfred's line of sight and blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"I don't smoke!" He said quickly. When Alfred looked at him with an sceptical expression, Arthur began to stammer. "I-I don't! Well-… I did. But- but I don't anymore. Technically…" Arthur facepalmed and sighed in defeat.

"I didn't know that you smoked." Alfred said quietly. Arthur sighed again.

"I don't." He sounded tired, Alfred noticed. Really tired. "I quit about… Three-ish years ago now? I give in once in a blue moon when I'm really stressed. A last resort, I suppose." Arthur ran a hand through his hair, letting out another sigh. Alfred opened his mouth to speak but quickly shut it. Something like that would usually prompt Alfred into asking if Arthur was okay, or if he needed to talk. But what if that wasn't what he wanted at that moment? The last thing Alfred wanted was to make Arthur hate him any more than he may have done already. There was an awkward silence that seemed to last forever.

"U-um-…" Alfred's voice croaked slightly in his nervousness. "Stressed?" Was all he was able to ask. He was suddenly so worried about how Arthur was doing and if his workplace was treating him properly; whether Arthur was looking after himself or not. It made him push through any worry of being scolded for prying. Arthur looked up at him and smiled at him a little sadly, Alfred noticed, but tried not to think too much about it.

"Yes. For example, with everything that-" Arthur cut himself off. He didn't want to make everything about him; not to mention that Alfred clearly wasn't comfortable. Arthur took a breath and looked down at his lap, fiddling with the small box in his hands. "You're right." He said quietly, as though he could hear Alfred's thoughts like they had been spoken aloud. "I really shouldn't give in to something like this." Arthur smiled at Alfred, determination glinted slightly in his eyes. "I've never been the sort to give up so easily." He chuckled. "I should just throw these away, really... Right. Anyway!" Arthur suddenly sounded much more cheerful. "How was your day? Is Aston Martin treating you properly?"

Alfred didn't speak. He stared at Arthur in silence, his brow furrowed upwards, a lost expression on his face. Arthur bit the inside of his lip slightly and looked at his lap again, knowing that it had been him who pushed too far that time around. Alfred wasn't ready to reopen that door in their friendship, and with good reason. Arthur couldn't blame him. He had to let their friendship heal at it's own pace. But he wasn't going to give up on it. The Englishman let out a breath and stood up, offering a small smile.

"Heh, well… I should really be getting home anyway. Thank God my shift is over." Arthur nodded to himself slowly and said a short goodbye before heading off in the direction of the car park. Alfred's chest was painfully tight as Arthur passed him; a part of him had wanted to say something so badly, but something stopped him, and the fact that had happened, just made Alfred feel heartbroken all over again. He didn't have much time to wallow; he moved almost on his own and called out to Arthur's back.

"You're not takin' the bus anymore?" He asked, turning to face him and noticed Arthur become a little sheepish.

"Hm? Oh, yes, I'm driving to work again." Arthur told him with a slight chuckle. Alfred smiled slightly despite himself.

"So your car finally works again?" He asked. "Or did you get a new one?" Arthur averted his gaze and ran a hand through his hair, scratching the back of his head.

"Still the old car. And um… Yes and no." Arthur said slowly, keeping his gaze pointedly off of Alfred. "It… Wasn't really that broken to begin with, if I'm honest... I just got used to taking the bus." Arthur admitted and cleared his throat, not daring to look at Alfred's reaction. It was a good thing too, considering how wide Alfred's eyes were. Arthur gathered his courage and cleared his throat again before looking at Alfred; keeping eye contact as he smiled softly. "You should come and talk to me on fitting rooms again sometime." He chuckled slightly, his embarrassment getting the better of him. "I've missed your visits." Arthur turned and left Alfred with those words. Alfred saw Arthur stop by the bin on his way back to his car, lightly tossing the box of cigarettes away.

Alfred stood alone for a while, letting the conversation –if it could have even been called that- sink in properly. Again, a small voice inside him told Alfred to not overthink anything; to not get his hopes up lest they all come crashing down again. But something else was telling him that he didn't have to hope, as such. Alfred just had to trust. And as frightening as the American found that idea, he knew that nothing was going to change if he didn't trust Arthur again at least a little. And so, Alfred decided.

He felt a little more prepared now. He was ready.

Hello chappy-choos! A nice big update for you because I've just started uni so, shock and horror, I may be updating even SLOWER! OTL but I still will continue this story so no worries! We're finishing this thing together! XD
I hope you guys don't mind me bringing in Henry again (If anyone remembers him XD), I felt he was right for the job and you just KNOW Francis convinced him to talk to Arthur XDDD Also I hope you understand why I put the smoking scene in there; I know it may have been a little random but I kinda wanted it to show something so I hope that came across properly. I'd love to hear your thoughts!
As always, thank you so much for all your feedback! Your reviews kept me going and gave the inspiration to write more for you guys.
Tell me your thoughts and I'll do my best to not keep you waiting for months on end X'D Thank you so much for supporting me and the boys! It means the absolute world! All my love, and I'll see you in the next chapter! -Lolo