Arthur Kirkland peered the corner of the gymnasium to check who was occupying it. He caught a glimpse of Alfred, kicking the shit out of a punching bag, wearing an infuriated expression. The greened eyed teen whipped back to his spot behind the entrance wall. He blew his bangs out of his eyes as he sighed.

He wondered if that was how Alfred handled his anger, through violence. It was frightening and downright childish, but then the boyfriend/parental abuse conspiracy would make more sense. God, he hated being right in this kind of situation. He pondered how he would even start the conversation.

"Gee, Alfred," Arthur whispered the quietest he could. "I'm sorry everyone thinks we're fuckin' perverts, and it totally looks like I caused the rumors. Can we kiss and make up?"

He sucked his teeth and tightened his fists. Drawing up enough courage, Arthur protruded from the doorway and guardedly made his way. He approached his partner and watched him throw a few more punches in the fitness equipment, trying not to seem intimidated by flinching.

When Alfred finally decided to look at him, he shot the most disgruntled glare Arthur had ever received from a person. He grabbed his t-shirt off the ground and wiped his glistening forehead with it. In all honesty, Arthur felt most uncomfortable around him like this. As the ocean eyed teenager stared at him, he felt his body turn to stone, unable to move under his observation.

"Whaddya come here for?" Al scoffed.

"I came to talk to you," he explained. His boyfriend rolled his eyes and turned his back, Arthur scolded, "Don't act like a child! Just hear me out!"

"What's left to hear? We already tried talking things out last night."

"More like you locked me out of your bedroom while I tried to reason with you," he corrected. Alfred wiped his sweaty palms on his gym shorts. "I want to know where we stand, or what you even think of me at this point."

He stopped his exercise. "Really?"

"Yes, really."

Alfred screwed his face and threw a fist at the punching equipment. "Eat shit and die, you bastard!"

Arthur relaxed his shoulders and let out a disgruntled howl. "There is no way to get to you! You're so immature!"

"I'm the immature one?" he kept his beautiful eyes on the bag. "I'm not the one who tattled to the whole school, starting rumors and stuff!"

"How many times must I tell you?" the Englishman hunched his back, hands in an over exaggerated gesture. "I didn't say a damn thing! So you're just going to have to believe me on this!"

"Yeah, I don't think so," Al's hands remained in fists guarding his face. Arthur cringed his nose in a not-so-threatening way, his finger curled by his sides.

"You're such a thick-headed jackass! Why don't you believe me! Do you not trust me, or something!"

He paused his boxing match and pointed to the tip of his nose, Arthur blew air into his reddening cheeks.

"Alright! I know when I'm not wanted!" he folded his arms, eyes dead locked on his partner.

"Then why don't you leave?" Alfred sarcastically suggested as he proceeded.

"Maybe I will!"

"Maybe you should!"

The Brit decided not to add to the preexisting drama, so he stormed out of the school gymnasium and to the boy's bathroom. He locked himself in the biggest stall and used the excess space to pace around. His fingers traced through his dusty locks as he pondered.

"God, way to fuck things up, Kirkland," he muttered to himself. "What the hell am I going to do with him? He probably hates me!"

After a much mulled over few minutes, Arthur exited the restroom. He pulled out his mobile the check the time. Only an hour until the last bell would ring. Pattering the hallways for extra time, Arthur glanced around the high school atrium ceilings. The situation played back in his head like a broken fucking record, and it was driving him to the point of insanity.

"Hey, Arthur!" a female's voice beckoned. He tilted his head back to see who it was, but could only wish he hadn't.

"Artie, wait up!" Michelle called again as she jogged over. Her hand brushed his upper arm, and Arthur caught a glimpse of her red ruby slipper fingernail polish. "What're you doing here! I thought you'd be in class! It's very unlike you to wander the halls!"

"Yes, I know that," Arthur agreed. "But I have a lot of things on my mind, and on my plate, not to mention."

"Oh, the boyfriend drama," Michelle immediately recognized. She waved a hand over either her heart or her left breast, Arthur couldn't tell. "I heard. It must be so awful for you and Alfred!"

"Yeah, especially since I have to figure out who started the rumor." He readjusted the flaps to his blazer to remain a formal atmosphere. "You wouldn't want to know what I'd do do whomever caused this."

"I wonder who could've started it," she theorized. She placed a sparkling red nail on her crimson bottom lip. "It must've been someone you have beef with."

"I'm not stupid," he snapped, "I've figured that much out already."

"Have you narrowed it down anyone in particular? Any one group?"

"I dunno. Maybe Yao and Ivan's lot. They don't particularly like me."

Michelle swatted her long black curls behind her back. "Maybe you're right. You should try talking to them to see if they're possible suspects."

"Yeah, I probably should," he kept walking, the tanned girl trying so hard to keep up she almost looked clingy.

As they pass a wing off the corridor, Michelle excuses herself with a flick of her wrist, "Oops! I have to get off here!"

Arthur halts to observe her departure, hands stuffed in his pants pockets. The girl waved, "See ya later, Artie!"

He returned the gesture with a chin bob, and waited until she was safely back in her own classroom. He checked the time again, and evaluated that he'd better go get his things, or that he had the energy to at least sit through the lecture for another forty-five minutes.

"Mr. Kirkland, why are you late?" the middle aged instructor interrogated, hands on her hips.

"I don't know. Why are you so obsessed with me?" Arthur regretfully quoted as the class roared. Although he was giggling under his breath, his teacher was less than enthused.

"Why don't you get your things and take a zero for the day?"

He smiled and took a big breath in, his heart pounding from rebellion. With his belongings collected and his bookbag slung on his back, Arthur left the scene of the crime. He wandered the hallways for the remaining time, Alfred being the only thing on his mind. He hid his eyes behind his forearm.

"Christ, why does he have to be so fucking cute!" Arthur mumbled to himself. "I'm going to go insane if I don't hear from him!"

"That's just how Alfred is, I guess," a random, soft spoken voice emerged from the background. The Englishman quickly adjusted himself and was face to face with a young blond boy.

"Erm," his emerald eyes scanned the other teen's frail body. "Pardon me for appearing so rude, but who are you?"

"Oh, I don't mind at all!" he beamed. He folded his delicate little hands into one another. "My name is Matthew Williams."

Arthur offered a handshake and Matthew gladly accepted it. "You're Arthur Kirkland, right? Alfred told me."

"How do you know Alfred?" he squinted his eyes. "How does he know you?"

"He's my brother."

A brother? Out of all the things Alfred could have told him, mentioning a brother wasn't one of them? How could he not? He was his boyfriend and best friend, he said so himself. Was he not a priority? And just when he thought things couldn't possibly get worse.

"H-He never mentioned he had a brother, before," Arthur fumbled for the correct terms. The last thing he wanted to do was to offend this "Matthew" character.

"I dunno. He's kinda overprotective and a little off his rocker when it comes to me," Williams explained with the same ditzy smile. "Technically, I shouldn't even be talking to you! But when I saw you walking around, I couldn't help but to say hi."

"How much do you know about me?" he dove right in. "What has Alfred told you?"

Taken aback, Matthew batted his pretty little eyelashes. "Oh, uh. That you're dating him. He talks a lot aboot you, actually." He placed a finger on his bottom lip, "But I don't think I was supposed to tell you that."

"It's fine, you're fine!" Arthur waved his hands. "It's just, I—"

He felt a sudden, stark grip on his shoulders and a chin resting on the top of his head. He soon recognized the stranger when he spoke.

"Hi, Mattie!" Alfred seemed more cheery than earlier. Odd. "Hey, Artie!"

"Hi Alfie!" the brother greeted. "I was just talking to Arthur. But it's totally my fault!" Matthew gently rapped the side of his head, "You know I'm such a ditz."

"No, it's cool!" he agreed. "And I'm sorry for being late! I was changing in the locker room, and I just got out."

"Oh, okay!" He blinked his purple eyes, if Arthur wasn't mistaken. "What do I tell mom and dad? That you're doing okay living with Artie?"

"Yeah, that'd be awesome!" he agreed, his brawny hands sliding down the Brit's petite frame. The last bell of the day rang, the clicking of door handles following. "Well, I'll call you later, okay?"

"Alrighty!" Matthew turned to the double glass doors. He waved, "Bye, bye, Alfie!"

Alfred returned the favor, "Later, Mattie!"

As soon as the daydream of a teen left the building, so did the American's sweet-as-Kool-Aid attitude. He took Arthur by the wrist and lead the couple out to the school's parking lot. When they situated themselves in the car, Alfred's gaze had turned ice cold.

"What did he tell you?" he asserted.

"N-Not much, really," Arthur tried to keep his hand steady enough to jam the key in the ignition.

Alfred reached over and his hand enveloped his smaller one. "I'm not shittin' around with you! What. Did he. Tell you?"

"Th-That his name's Matthew Williams, and he's your brother." He darted his eyes anywhere but Alfred's. "And that he knows about us, and he's not allowed to talk to me."

"You're damn straight," he took back his limb, and sat with his spine to the passenger seat. "But yeah, he's my brother."

"But how come you've never mentioned him?"

He knitted his brow, "You're pretty smart, you know that. I don't want him in a situation if people knew him like they know me."

"I see. You're only protecting him," he put two and two together.

"Yeah," Alfred huffed, his feet kicked on the dashboard and arms crossed. "He's also the only connection I have left with my family. And if you couldn't already tell, he has absolutely no filter."

"So you have to watch what you say around him," he stated the obvious. "So I have to watch what I say."

"Damn straight. And you're gonna stay as far away from him as possible. I don't him mixed in our drama or other people's shit."

"I guess I see where you're coming from," Arthur placed his hands on the steering wheel as the engine roared. He paused, and eventually turned off the vehicle. Alfred cocked his head.

"Why aren't we leaving?" he asked.

Arthur pressed a button and locked all of the car doors simultaneously. Alfred immediately tested the validity of the situation by yanking on the door handles.

"What the hell? C'mon, we gotta go home so I can call Mattie!" he said, wrenching on the doors. Arthur remained where he was.

"No, we're going to talk things out right here, right now. While I have you right where I want you."

"Dude! I just wanna go home!" he argued. "You're makin' a big deal outta this!"

Arthur sent a glare his way. "I'll make the situation even more embarrassing for you if I have to."

"There's nothing more embarrassing than what we already have! And I'm not talking about it now, so drop it!"

Arthur snatched the opportunity while it was still dangling in his face, literally. He leaned over and damn near slammed his arms around Alfred's neck, and stole a prolonged and steamy kiss. He looked around to make sure people were still in the parking lot and, sure enough, a group of jocks were watching through the windshield. Alfred pushed him off without much difficulty.

"What the hell's your problem! You're makin' me look really bad!"

Arthur batted his eyes up at him and puckered his lips, "And how do you think I look? Surely not as bad as you, right?"

He took a quick glance at the students watching them like performers in a freak show, and back at Arthur.

"Why are you doing this? It doesn't make sense."

"Just do as I say," Arthur commanded. "Do you really want for the person responsible for the rumor see us fighting?"

Alfred shrugged, "You make a good point."

The Brit started the car again and drove straight home, the ride silent with the exception of the car radio. Occasionally, Arthur glanced over at his American lover as the wind from the rolled window swept through his hair, partially blinded when the sun hit his eyes in the right place.

You thickheaded jackass. Don't you know how much you mean to me?

"Alright," Arthur paced as Alfred laid on his bed, reading a 'Captain America' comic book. Those damn books all look the same, the Englishman thought. "We need to find out who started shit about us."

"Well, I don't really talk to anyone else but you and Francis," Al confessed. "But it's not like anyone's going to talk to me now."

"I, on the other hand, have a lot of grudges," he revealed.

The blond squinted his perfect little face, "With who?"

He batted his eyes, "Erm, do you have the time?"

"Like, name someone in particular."

Arthur tried to think of somebody recent. "Well, my ex is a total bitch. And we didn't go out in the best of ways. But, I'm not sure if—"

"Wait," Alfred interrupted, his face out of his book. "Who are they?"

"Michelle?"

His face tinted pink and he panned his eyes on the floor. "Oh."

"Anyway," he began back on topic. "Francis said he saw it on Twitter first. Maybe it started there and made its way everywhere else."

He shrugged and flicked his wrists, "But if Michelle actually started it, it would make sense. She's such a Twitter whore, and can't help but to…why are you acting like that?" Arthur stopped talking to study Alfred's current flustered disposition. He raised his brow, "Are you jealous of her?"

He scrunched his nose, "No!"

"Like, actually jealous? Are you even capable of feeling that?"

"Well, that's a little rude, dontcha think?" he creased his brows, face reddening more and more by the second.

The pair crossed their arms and squinted at each other. Arthur scoffed, "How do you think you've been acting lately?"

"I'm being unreasonable? That's how you act," Alfred challenged. "It's amazing how I put up with it on a daily basis."

The English boy crinkled his nose and the corners of his eyes. "And you're a liar!"

Al put the comic book to the side and stood up. He got closer and sewed his brow, "Say that again."

Arthur leaned his head back and constricted his muscles, "You're a fucking liar."

He observed his partner tense up and go red in the face; it almost scared him, but he wasn't about to blow all of the time he spent building up tension. They stared at each other until Alfred smoothly insulted, "And you're crazy."

He started to leave the room, with Arthur trailing behind him. "What the hell does that mean?"

"You're so obsessive!" he yelled back. "You're a psycho path!"

"I don't need the likes of you telling me if I'm mental or not!"

Alfred seemed to seethe with rage for a moment before he calmed himself down. "Look, I don't like arguing with you. I care about you too much. But I'm not gonna be the first to apologize."

He folded his arms, "And neither am I!"

They glared daggers at each other for one hot minute before Alfred stalked off, and Arthur stormed to his bedroom. For the rest of the evening, the pair had strived to stay out of each other's way, for arguments' sake.

As Arthur realized that night in his cold, empty bed, he didn't like being alone as much as he thought he did. He estimated he could manage a night or two without Alfred, but it made him think of the night he almost slept with him. The way his breath clinged to each fiber of his thick, choppy locks. How he held him close, like he, the most ornery little bastard, was the most important thing on the world. And thinking about that night only made Arthur lonelier.

"Francis, please! I'm desperate! You have to help me!" Arthur whined. Francis sent a wary look his way. The English boy took both of the blond's hands and swayed them frantically. "I need you!"

"Look, I don't know how you're going to get past this fight with Alfred," Francis turned his head the other way. "I think it's just something you're going to have to figure out on your own."

"But you don't know him like I do!" he defended. "He's so fucking stubborn, I almost can't stand it!"

"Almost?" he balanced out his priorities.

Then it hit Arthur Kirkland like a fuck load of rocks: why was he wasting his time fighting? He had worked so hard, moved so meticulously, to have Alfred in his heart. What the hell was he doing hating his time with him?

"By George, you're right, Francis," he acknowledged. "I'm not going to let this rumor get the best of Alfred and me."

"Now you're on the right track!" the French boy praised.

"I guess I'm just going to have to apologize to him. But how?"

The other blond stroked his beard and suggested, "Perhaps you could take an interest in what he likes? What does Alfred even do?"

"Reads comics books," Arthur listed. "And… that's all I know."

His brows laid straight, "Really?"

"Really."

Francis huffed and gestured his hands in the gayest way possible, "You've left me with nothing to work with here! You're going to have to be more specific!"

"Um," he thought the hardest he could recall in the longest time. "I, er. I know he likes this 'Captain America' fellow. Do you even know who that is?"

"Isn't he a superhero?" he shied away from the confrontation.

"Are you serious! He's the first Avenger, founded in 1963! Not to mention his first appearance, in 1941, where he punched Hitler clean in the face!"

The promiscuous blond folded his arms with a smirk wearing thin, Arthur covered his mouth with his fingers.

"Holy shit, how do I know that?" he cursed, astonished by his unknowing talent.

"Maybe that's Alfred talking for you." Francis slid his hands down his friend's shoulders sympathetically. "Please, for the love of God, apologize to him."

"I know, but…" he darted his hazel eyes away, "I don't know what to begin to say."

"Look," he took his limbs back. "Alfred is very different from the others you've seen; you both have a special connection. Maybe you thought that he was going to be something fun and exciting, but you've got to understand your situation. You can't just turn him away, you dived too deep."

Francis obtained a serious expression he had never seen him wear. "You need to be serious, now. You're really in for it this time, Kirkland."

Arthur blinked a few times, taking time to let it all sink in. Francis was right: he bit off more than he could chew. Alfred was indeed someone special, that when he first laid eyes on him was a deathwish.

With an arm around his now ex-lover, Michelle, he caught his first glimpse of the beauty that was Alfred F. Jones a few months ago now. Staring at the boy left him empty and fulfilled somehow, which was like nothing he had ever felt before. And if anyone knew anything about him, it was that Arthur Kirkland loved disaster. Though, he did not what Alfred to become one of the devastating accidents he always encountered.

When Arthur got home from school, he ran through the house in pursuit of his boyfriend. He didn't have a plan and didn't know what he was going to say, his exact fear, but he was going to apologize to him in some way.

"Oui, Alfred!" he called out. No answer. Arthur ran to his bedroom and ransacked it, superhero merchandise scattered everywhere now. "Alfred, I need to talk to you!"

"About what?" the cutie's unexpected voice spoke. Arthur spun around and smiled.

"How in the hell did you get home? You took off before I got to the car."

He shrugged, hands stowed in his carpenter jean pockets, "I went home with Matthew today."

Arthur raised his eyebrows, "Home? But I thought you lived here."

"But Mattie still lives with my parents. I don't want him to, but he agreed to let me ride his bus home every now and again to check up on him."

The English boy hung his head low as he muttered a soft, "oh". He held his hands in front of his hips and twiddled his thumbs. Alfred asked, "So, what was it you wanted to say?"

"Er, that I," his apology was starting to crumble from beneath his feet. He was going to slip up in some impossible way and make a complete fool of himself. And how much less was Alfred going to think of him then?

"Well," Alfred interrupted, and Arthur silently thanked God. "I just got some news from my parents about Matthew."

"What is it?"

"He's sick again," he sighed, his breaths jagged. "It's nothing as serious as before, thankfully."

"What do you mean he's sick?" Arthur took a brave step ahead.

"Mattie has a really shitty immune system, so he gets sick easily. Then, he doesn't go to school a lot."

"Oh," Kirkland mentally pushed himself over a cliff. He thought that the Williams boy was just a new student, not considering he was related to his boyfriend. "Right."

"Right."

"So," he coughs. "What was it you wanted to tell me?"

"Oh." Arthur twiddled his thumbs, "Look, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. Sorry for the way I'm behaving, sorry for how I'm treating you, sorry for everything. I may not show it, but I really like you, and I don't want to lose you. I just… don't think I know how to convey my emotions."

Alfred's face melted into a smile as he responded, "That means a lot to me, Arthur."

The American reached his arms out and tangled them in his thick blond hair, pulling the shorter boy into an amorous hug. Surprised but still elated, Arthur hugs him back, inhaling his wonderful scent. Alfred speaks up, "I'm sorry, too. But you're not gonna lose me, I promise."

Arthur moved his face into Alfred's shoulder and grabbed him just a little tighter. He exhaled deeply, "We're in this together."

AN: I'm sorry I've left this story for so long, but I finally got my motivation back. So expect more updates coming soon!