Attention to all my readers: I've realized some people have been asking me when I will start updating my other stories. Of course, I myself would love to continue them. However, I've learned from experience that having multiple ongoing stories will certainly result in abandonment of the other stories, therefore I want to tell you that I am only capable of handling a maximum of three ongoing stories at a time. American Wife, Into the Herd, and Supreme Fascination are my main concern at the moment. Until I've finished one of them, the other stories are put on hold for now. I'm very sorry for the wait, but I need to do this so I can have some focus.

Chapter Five: the Sun on the Right Hand,

the Moon on the Left

"My name is Arthur Kirkland, I am a lawyer." Arthur introduced himself.

He sat on an empty white-painted chair which the color had faded over time. Across of him, Emily Jones was sitting on a round chair, clad in soft lavender knitted shawl, and she wore a cream-colored hospital outfit underneath it. Her long, thick dark locks were let loose and messy, touching her waist. Her complexion looked terribly sickly, even when she was already pale from the beginning, from the photo Arthur saw in her house. Her lips were chapped and tinted in light purplish blue hue.

Despite his attempt to talk to her, she remained silent, her green eyes were fixated at a bunch of children playing at the park outside the window. She acted as if she hadn't heard Arthur, or even realized the presence of another person in the room. But Arthur wasn't about to give up yet. Not yet. Not when he could finally meet her. He needed her to speak with him.

"Your son - Alfred is currently staying with me. He's in good health and he's eating properly." He told her with a warm smile on his face and a gentle tone of voice. But nothing came from the diseased woman.

Arthur, not giving up, was still attempting a conversation. "He's very helpful too. He helps me out in the house and he even cooks for us. And he's been taking care of my son - I have a son, you see. His name is Peter. They really get along well. Would you like to see his picture?"

Arthur put his hand into the inner pocket of his suit and fished out a black leather wallet. He opened it and the picture of his little boy and himself greeted him. Smiling fondly, he stood up and approached Emily, bending his back a little and taking out the photograph to show it to her. He did it meanwhile still keeping a safe distance from her.

"He's turning seven this month," Arthur told her. "He's in second grade right now. He loves playing soccer and his favorite food are pizza and waffles. He's very energetic, in fact, he has so much energy, I don't know how to keep up with him sometimes. But he's a good kid. I haven't seen him since yesterday, I wonder what he's doing right now."

Eliciting no reaction from Emily, Arthur pulled back and put the photo back into the wallet. Then he sat across her again, putting a leg over the other, while his twined fists on his lap. Emily was still quietly staring off into the space, completely undisturbed.

The British man observed her for a short moment in silence, many things came to his mind. Even though from the outside he seemed composed, in the inside he was puzzled. He was anxious and a tad bit nervous. How could he make Emily talk, or even react to him? He had no idea.

While his mind was preoccupied, a gentle breeze blew in and brushed against Emily's onyx locks and the lace binds of the window. Arthur turned to see the rustling leaves of the tree nearby the window. He felt it was very peaceful.

The hospital was located nearby the town's forest, far away from the corrupted air of the bustling city. It was more like a countryside, a perfect place for the sick and the troubled to recover in this tranquil isolation. Arthur found himself staring out at the park where a small playground was built. There were several children playing there, still clad in their pajamas.

They were about 6 - 12 years of age. He noticed there was one boy who looked like he was of Peter's age. The boy had short blonde hair too, reminding him how much he wanted to go home and see his little boy. He wondered whether Peter missed him too. He used to sulk whenever Arthur came home late. Then Arthur would try to apologize and promise him to go to the amusement together next time.

Speaking of which, he remembered they had plans to go to the Disneyland next month, Arthur had invited his ex-wife and her husband, they agreed to go as family and friends. It was a part of their commitment to raise their child together despite having separated. Even though… Arthur had to admit it would feel awkward to go with his ex and her new man. Every time he saw her, Arthur would remember a bit about their relationship in the past.

"…I heard that you had Alfred when you were very young." He uttered, his gaze was locked at the two children, playing seesaw.

"It must've been hard, to raise a child when you were so young. I understand that. I had Peter when I was in still college." He calmly said. Pieces of reminiscence came before his eyes, as he drowned into a pool of memory deep within his heart. He slowly closed his eyes.

"My girlfriend found out she was pregnant with Peter one day. She was older than me by two years, while I was 19, in my sophomore year. I couldn't even drink alcohol yet." He chuckled humorlessly, soon the chuckle died out.

"It was very difficult for me, I was still so young." He uttered softly, eyes downcast.

"She wanted to abort, but I stopped her. I didn't want her to kill a new life - a gift God gave us. But… it was hard. I was so confused, scared, and anxious. I didn't know what to do. She wasn't ready to be a mother, neither was I, to be a father. I still wanted to get my degree and build a career, I still wanted to do so many things. I was so afraid, but I convinced myself that I have to take responsibility over her and my unborn child. So, I took a risk.

I convinced her we were going to be alright and that I would take care of both of them. I proposed to her and she accepted. We told our parents. They were surprised, but in the end they gave us their blessing and support. After that… we were struggling." Arthur tightened his fists, inhaling deeply as if he hadn't been breathing well.

"I didn't quit my education. We both continued our studies - I worked part time on multiple jobs on the side to pay for the medical bills and save up as much as I could. We were both working hard. Then, a year later, Peter was born." He suddenly went silent again.

"It was… strange. All my doubts and fear vanished the moment I held him in my arms. Like a miracle." Arthur brought a hand up and squeezed the bridge of his nose between his eyes, wiping away the tears that suddenly spilled out uncontrollably. He felt embarrassed for having lost control of his composure like that, but he quickly recovered and collected himself.

"I… want only the best for my family, so I started working harder, especially after I have gotten my degree. I got into a firm and worked day and night to make our lives better." He smiled bitterly. "…but because I was too busy, I didn't realize my marriage was in verge of destruction. I didn't know my wife was suffering because I was always at work, I was rarely at home. I tried my best to work things out, but in the end… we went on our separated ways."

Arthur was still smiling, but his eyes spoke otherwise, then he turned his head to watch the kids outside again. The lively sound of their laughter resounded into the room, at the same time, another breeze came to intrude, tenderly caressing Arthur's cheeks. His chest ached at the memory of his past, yet he felt calmer and peaceful. He shrugged, sweeping away the bad feelings clouding his mind. What was already in the past couldn't be helped, he mused, he was already over it.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, Arthur held up his right arm and noticed at his wristwatch. His thirty minutes was almost up. He sighed inwardly then he glanced up at Emily, who hadn't shown any sort of significant reaction, she was still sitting there in silence, staring absently at the green garden. Arthur realized he had wasted time without any result.

A knock on the door caused him to look up.

"Arthur?" Francis' voice came from the direction of the door. "Brenda is here. She said your time's up."

"I'll be out in a minute." Arthur replied back, getting on his knees.

Before he left the room, he turned to Emily. "I have to go, for now." He told her. "I'll come again next time. Until then, have a good day, Ms. Jones."

As soon as he shut the door behind him, he saw Francis and Brenda were there for him. Francis had a look of subtle curiosity hinted from his expression, while Brenda's face was unreadable.

"How is it?"

Arthur didn't answer. He cast his gaze downward and shook his head.

"Oh… that's too bad." Francis muttered, a sigh spilled out of his lips.

"She didn't respond to me at all. It's just as you said." The British man glanced at the nurse.

"I suspected it won't be easy, her mental health level is very low right now." The older woman nodded, patting the younger man's back soothingly.

Arthur smiled at her. "But I won't be giving up just yet. I'll come later and try to talk to her again." He declared solemnly. "Although for now it may be impossible. I'm sure in the future it'd become possible."

"So what's next? Are we going back?" The Frenchman asked, earning a turn of head from the British man.

"We can't prolong our stay anymore, so first we'll go back." Arthur replied. "And then after that… I have a plan. But we'll talk about it later."

Francis nodded. "I agree."

"You two boys are going back already? Take care now."

"Thank you for helping us out, Brenda." Arthur thrust his hand towards the nurse, who took it into hers.

"Don't worry, sweetie. Anytime you need me." They shook hand briefly. "Do you want me to see you off?"

"No, we're fine. We'll see you soon, Brenda. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Francis and Arthur waved good bye at the nurse, who stayed back to check up Emily, before they strolled down the sterile-scented hallways for the entrance to leave the hospital. It was already afternoon. Arthur walked in fast, long strides in silence, while Francis was closing in on him on his side. It seemed like the Brit had a lot in his mind as they made their exit, Francis decided not to ask him anything and wait until the Brit would talk to him.

"What's the 'plan' you were talking about?" Francis had asked Arthur as soon as they got into a cab they hailed in the street past the hospital gates.

Arthur took in his briefcase first before he went in and closed the door. "Take us to the airport, please." He told the driver, who nodded briefly. It was until they both had settled down comfortably, did Arthur finally answered.

"It's about Dave McGreggor," He said, green eyes fixated straight as he sat in casual, composed manner. "It's clear that he's the reason for Alfred and his mother's suffering, amongst other things. I want him out of the picture."

Francis turned his head to his side at the blatant confession that the usually collected Arthur spoke out, but what surprised him was that Arthur said those words with a straight face and casual tone of voice, unlike the resentful manner he displayed time to time again before.

"You're planning to get rid of him? But who would testify against him, now that Emily Jones is not psychologically healthy?"

"Emily might not be able to do it for now. But there's Alfred. He's a victim of domestic abuse, multiple assaults, and possibly sexual harassment. He can testify against McGreggor." He told him.

"However, I don't want to force him to confess. He doesn't know I'm researching his backgrounds and meeting his mother. But in the mean time, until he decided to tell me what happened on his own will, I would like to gather up as much legal evidence as I could, even if I have to dig up the garbage for it. I'll also need witnesses to testify for McGreggor's violent behavior; I think the neighbors would be perfect for that." Arthur took his hand inside his trousers pocket, taking out his cell. Then he turned to Francis.

"I will need as much help as I could. Especially from you and Kiku." The Frenchman tensed when he saw those stern emerald orbs burned in steely determination. "I would like to use your abilities to its full potential. Is that understood, Bonnefoy?"

Francis swallowed, but then an amused smile tugged at the corners of his lips. It had been a while since he saw Arthur got so serious. This would be interesting, he thought gleefully. "Are you asking me to completely ruin the life of a criminal?" He licked his lips in the delicious anticipation. "Count me in."

"I know you're the best man for this," Arthur smiled, but it looked more like a smug smirk. Looking thoughtful, he held up his cell and started pressing the buttons quickly.

"What are we going to do first?" Francis stretched his arms, crackling his fists.

"I'm emailing the rest of the team." He answered. "I'll have my best men at the ready."

"What, like CSI?" the Frenchman joked, laughing amusedly.

"You watch crime dramas too much. But that is a secret." The Brit pulled a mischievous smile. "But I'll give you your first mission; I want you to investigate the Jones' estate."

Francis raised a blonde eyebrow. "That rundown house? Is there something about it?"

"There is. I want you to find the neighborhood's real estate agent, then give me the copies of the officially signed registration and estate ownership papers. I don't care what your method is, I want it in my possession as soon as possible." Arthur stated, never looking away from his cellphone monitor. He kept hitting away at the buttons.

"Also, I want to get a temporary guardianship over Alfred, but hopefully a full guardianship - seeing his mother is clearly not capable of taking care of her child presently. I want you to help me with the process. Find out whether Emily Jones has named someone as Alfred's guardian in her will, and if they are relatives or friends. I also want some personal documents on their profiles, backgrounds, crime records, and their addresses for the last five years."

For a moment, Francis was dumbfounded. "…demanding little bastard, aren't you."

Arthur turned to him, furrowing his eyebrows. "If it's easy to get, you'll slack off. Don't think I don't know."

"Haha! True, true." Francis chuckled. "Well, what Monsieur Angleterre wants, Monsieur Angleterre gets. If it's for you, I'll do it without charging a few extra hours." He winked.

"I told you not to call me that." Arthur irritatedly said, although he was smiling.

"Oh non, non. That I can not do!"

Arthur sighed. "Well, as long as you do your work..."

Francis laughed merrily. "Oui, Monsieur!" He blew a kiss at Arthur.

The British man brought two fingers to message his temples.

"…remind me why I brought this man along…"

By the time Arthur had parked his car in his apartment basement, it was already ten in the night. He had drove off Francis on the lobby of his apartment building before he drove to his own. After he slipped his security card into the card-holder of the elevator, the British man rested his back against the inner wall of the moving cube, taking a deep breath.

He felt worn out from the constant traveling and driving, and starving to top it. He hadn't eaten dinner yet. Arthur placed his palm over his tired eyes, shielding his sight from the annoyingly bright lamps above his head. Furrowing his eyebrows, he mentally swore at the stinging pain that seemed to drill into his temples. It might be migraine. He had to make sure he took an aspirin before bed.

He felt incredulously lazy to even walk out, when the elevator reached his floor with a ding. Nevertheless, Arthur bared with it and strided on his way along the seemingly tranquil hallway that was always smelt of flowery aromatherapy oil. It actually made him feel a little bit better.

The tired man sighed in relief when he finally reached his door, pushing the doorbell rather impatiently. He put down his heavy briefcase and waited until he heard footsteps and a familiar voice replying to the bell, and the door swung open for him. Before him, stood a young man, looking surprised but seemed glad as he greeted the older man.

"Hi, Mr. Kirkland. Welcome home!" Alfred exclaimed, smiling radiantly.

Arthur returned the smile with a tired one, letting the boy took his briefcase for him then proceeded to usher the Brit inside. Once he stepped inside his own home, Arthur breathed in the friendly, relaxing smell, finally realizing he was finally home. He felt the built-up stress was reduced significantly now that he was in the safe zone of his comfortable flat.

"Where is Peter? Is he asleep?" Arthur asked as he flopped down onto the sofa in the living room, tugging at the too-tight burgundy tie he was wearing, his neck had felt sweaty and itchy all day long, very uncomfortable. However, Arthur had to bare with it, for appearance's sake.

"He's sleeping in his room. I tucked him in just a while ago." Alfred answered, taking the suit Arthur had thrown randomly onto the couch, before he put it away inside the closet.

"Aah, is that so." Arthur yawned widely, drowsy tears gathered at the corner of his eyes.

He felt so sleepy and tired, but he hadn't eaten anything at all, at least he had to take a shower before he went to bed. Fighting the drowsiness, he dozed off a bit, lolling his head to the side. He saw Alfred had put away the dishes and was wiping the dining table with a rag. Arthur observed him, trying to fight off the sleepiness from forcing his eyes closed.

"So… how was your day?" He lazily asked, his vision began blurring.

"Umm, nothing out of ordinary." Alfred replied without looking at him. "I took Peter to the park after school and we played soccer for a while. We went home when it got dark, then we had dinner. How about you, Mr. Kirkland? How did the trip goes…?"

Alfred expected an answer, but it didn't come after a minute had passed. "Mr. Kirkland?" Curious he turned around and saw Arthur had fallen asleep on the sofa, his eyes were closed as his head lolled back, his breaths sounded steady as he slept quietly.

The teen boy abandoned the rag on the table and approached the sleeping man, staring down at him and making sure he was really asleep. He certainly looked very tired, he mused silently, wondering whether he should wake him up. But he didn't dare to because he felt bad for the man. He didn't want to wake him up.

"What should I do…" Alfred mumbled to himself, deciding to shake the Brit's shoulder gently and calling him again to see if he would wake up. But Arthur stayed asleep after he had shook him, it didn't look like he would wake up easily. But Alfred couldn't just leave the man sleep there, seeing he was still fully dressed in his work attire.

After pondering about it, Alfred decided it would be the best to try to carry Arthur to his bed without waking him up. He was a bit unsure of how to do it, though, as he attempted to scoop Arthur up by the arm, while using his hand to slip across the British man's back to support his weight, and another instinctively slid beneath his inner thighs.

It was an unsteady movement, but Alfred was surprised by how light the older man turned out to be. He could lift him up easily. He felt awkward and slightly nervous, calling out for Arthur again to see if he had woken up. "Umm, Mr. Kirkland? Are you awake?"

Arthur answered with a string of incorrigible mumbles, eyes half-lidded. Then he leaned his head against Alfred's collarbone and settled comfortably there. He went back to sleep. Now that he had gotten in this situation, Alfred had no choice but to carry him to his bed. Slowly and carefully, he walked across the room, meanwhile avoiding things he would bum into on his way, proceeding towards Arthur's bedroom across the hall.

The American boy had a little difficulty with the doorknob, since he had both of his hands full. He tried to reach for the knob, but Arthur was sliding off his arm when he tried to, as soon as it did, Alfred quickly backed away in fear of dropping the older man. Feeling vexed also because of his increasingly numbing grip, Alfred tried to think of another way, when he saw the door to a guest-room just next door, that Arthur lent to him to sleep in, was a bit opened.

A light went on in his head, Alfred thought of letting Arthur slept on his bed instead, then Alfred would sleep on the couch. He quickly went for it without further ado, widening the gap of the entrance with a soft kick of his foot. The room was dark, but it wasn't a problem. Alfred gently lowered the sleeping man on the bed. As soon as Arthur was settled on the clean sheets, he was slowly waking up.

"Hmm…" Arthur opened his emerald green eyes and furrowed his eyebrows. He woke up in a bad mood. He breathed in, yet to realize where he was. He turned his head, saw Alfred crouching by the bedside table, then he noticed he was in a bed. Alfred had turned on the bedside lamp.

"Did I… fall asleep?" Arthur groaned, squeezing his eyes shut from the sudden pain that stung his head. Headache, great... he mused in irritation.

Alfred chuckled softly. "You fell asleep on the couch, Mr. Kirkland." He told him.

"Crap… sorry for your trouble, Alfred." Arthur tried to get up, but Alfred stopped him with a hand on Arthur's shoulder.

"You're exhausted, don't push yourself too hard." He said. "I'll bring a change of clothes. I'll be back in a minute."

Leaving the older man, Alfred rushed out of the room then five minutes later returned with a set of Arthur's favorite pajamas and a pair of clean briefs. "Thank you, Alfred." Arthur uttered when the younger boy handed him the clothes. Alfred only nodded.

While he was unbuttoning his shirt, Arthur realized he wasn't in his own bedroom. "Is this your room?" He looked up at the boy.

"Uh, yeah. I couldn't open the door to your room, because I was helping you, and… oh don't worry, I'll sleep on the couch tonight. You can sleep in the bed." He quickly added, assuring the older man.

"Why? This is your bed you can sleep here too. Besides, it's King-sized." Arthur took off his soiled shirt and was putting on the pajamas top, noticing the discomfort in Alfred's part. Then he winked slyly at the flustered boy. "What? I won't bite! Don't worry. I'll go to my own room and sleep there."

The boy flushed in embarrassment. "That wasn't very nice, Mr. Kirkland…"

Arthur only laughed. "Sorry, sorry. Just kidding, okay?" He jokingly said. "Anyway… just call me Arthur, will you? I am not used to being called 'Mr. something'."

"But…"

"It's alright. I'd much prefer you call me Arthur. 'Mr.' is just a cod bit too formal."

"… okay."

The Brit flung his legs to sit at the side of the bed, his shirt on one hand, while the clean clothes were hanging on his right arm. He hadn't put on the bottom half of his pajamas yet. He had the common decency not to change pants in front of people. That would be too casual.

"Well then, I will bother you no more. I'll return to my room now." He said with a smile, patting Alfred's shoulder. He wanted to reach for the boy's head, but couldn't, since the boy was about 5-inches taller than he was. Alfred looked a bit embarrassed by it. Arthur thought it was adorable of him.

"Tomorrow is Saturday. It's Peter's birthday, I'll have some people, family and a few close friends, to come over for a small dining party. I want you to join us." He told him.

Alfred was surprised at the invitation. "B-but I'm just a stranger."

"First of all, I never had strangers stay with us for days, especially leaving them alone in my house." Arthur said, "Second, Peter and I, we think of you as a part of our little family now. Peter would be thrilled to have you in his seventh birthday party. So I insist."

The teen was dumbfounded, yet he looked happy, a little nervous, and a bit confused. His clear blue eyes didn't meet with Arthur's and were staring at the carpeted floor when he muttered a 'yes'.

Arthur smiled in satisfaction. "Good. I'm glad you accept."

"Mr. Kirk - Arthur… you're too nice to me."

"You deserve it, Alfred. You've been helpful to me." Arthur uttered earnestly, remembering the hardships the boy had to go through in the past. But he kept his mouth shut, Alfred didn't need to know that Arthur had known of his past.

"Anyway, I'm going back to my room. Good night, Alfred." The Brit bade him before he walked past the boy towards the entrance.

"… good night, Arthur."

After he closed the door behind him, Arthur didn't immediately return to his room, instead he went to see Peter before going to bed. He gently opened the door and stepped in, then proceeded to sit on a chair next to Peter's bed. The boy was sound asleep and laid undisturbed as Arthur sat there, caressing the boy's hair and watching him in silence.

Fifteen minutes later, Arthur got up and left the room soundlessly, this time, he went back to his room, changed the rest of his clothes, then threw himself onto the bed. Within seconds, he fell asleep from the unbearable exhaustion. For a moment, he forgot about the things happened to him these past two days, his arrest, the lack of sleep, Emily Jones and Dave McGreggor…everything.

Throughout the night, he finally found a peaceful slumber.

When morning came, Arthur woke up feeling refreshed.

He sat up and stretched his arms, moaning in comfort. He yawned and scratched the back of his head, he noticed it was already seven in the morning, from the antique clock hanging in the wall of his room. He still felt drowsy and lazy, but forced himself to get out of the bed and take a shower in an attached bathroom.

After he had brushed his teeth and took a shower, Arthur slid into a pair of slacks and put on a black polo shirt over his head. He went out of his room with his hair still wet and a towel hanging around his neck as he walked towards the kitchen. On the way, he could smell a delicious scent wafted under his nose. He heard the morning news on TV and the sound of Peter's laughter.

"Hmm, I smell pancakes." Arthur emerged into the room, taking in the sight of Alfred cooking by the stove and Peter watching TV. They both turned their heads at the older man, Peter was as energetic as ever as he jumped off of the dining chair to greet his daddy with a huge hug.

"Daddy, daddy! When did you go home? Peter didn't see you!" Peter exclaimed, all grins, as he hugged his father's waist.

"I arrived home last night, you were already asleep. I told you I'll be back soon, didn't I?" Arthur replied, scooping up the little boy into his arms. "Good morning, Alfred. What are you cooking? Pancakes? Smells good!" The British man asked, inhaling the delicious smell that made his empty stomach growl impatiently.

"Mornin'. It's waffles, actually." Alfred replied, placing two plates of waffles topped with vanilla ice cream, blueberry sauce, and some colorful berries on the side. The table was already set with breakfast enough for three people. There were some slices of french bread, salad with olive oil, butter, a pint of orange juice, a glass of fresh milk for Peter, a pot of tea and the tea set, and other side dishes.

Arthur's jaw would've dropped if not for his conscience for self-appearance hadn't stopped him. On contrary, Peter was already gaping at the mouthwatering dishes.

"Wow," Arthur breathed, he could hear his stomach rumbling violently. "These look really… impressive!"

"I also made omelets if you don't feel like eating sweets." Alfred said, placing a plate of steaming, vegetable and bacon-filled omelets.

"No, we'll eat it all!" The two Kirklands answered in synch.

Both father and son looked at each other, and then they laughed aloud, Alfred could't hide his snickers either.

"Well, let's eat then!" Arthur declared.

"Yaaay! Waffles, waffles!" Peter thrust his fists up in the air.

They all sat together and had lively breakfast. The food was absolutely delicious, although a fuss came up when Arthur scolded Peter to eat more quietly and tidily. Peter only grinned widely with sauce smear around his mouth and dripped down chin. Arthur himself was filling his stomach with as many food as he could, as he hadn't eaten the night before, he was starving. In the end, the plates were all swept clean by them.

Alfred washed the dishes, while Peter helped by delivering the dirty dishes to the older boy. Arthur helped too, he wiped the wet dishes and placed them orderly in the rack. After the table and the kitchen were all cleaned up, Peter went to his room. Arthur and Alfred sat on the couch in the living room to watch the morning news.

"The food was great. Thanks for making us breakfast." Arthur said to Alfred, who smiled in return.

"It's no big. I like cooking."

Incidentally, Arthur noticed the bandages peeking out from underneath the sleeves of a brown sweater Alfred was wearing. "How is your injuries? Are you feeling alright?"

"Oh this?" Alfred pulled his sleeve a bit. "I feel okay, I can do things much easier now. I've been the doctor's orders. It doesn't hurt anymore. The doctor said I can remove the cast next week."

"I'm glad." Arthur gave the boy a warm smile. then he remembered something.

"By the way, you don't have to cook for lunch and dinner. Peter's dinner party is going to be in a local restaurant tonight, I actually forgot I had my secretary booked the tables a few days back." He laughed at his own forgetfulness. "Until then… Peter and I are going somewhere for the rest of the day, will you come with us? We'll eat out for lunch."

"Sure." The teen agreed. "Where are we going?"

"There's a children festival at the city square, Peter has been asking me to take him there. Some of his playmates and their parents will be there too. Coincidentally, it's on his birthday, I thought it's the perfect timing. So we arranged a playmate for them." He explained. "There is an open house in a next door gallery, I think we can go there while Peter plays with his friends."

"Cool. Peter is gonna be excited. I'd like to go." Alfred smiled.

While they were chatting, they heard hurried footsteps of someone running down the hall. Then Peter emerged into the living room, all dressed up and had even worn his shoes and jacket. "Daddy? When are we going? Let's go, let's go! Big brother too." He tugged at Alfred and Arthur's arms, pouting childishly.

"Daddy and big brother have to get ready first. You can wait for us while watching TV." Arthur got up and patted the boy's head, glancing meaningfully at the older boy over his shoulders. Alfred nodded, he got up too and went to his room, as did Arthur.

The three of them rode the elevator down to the lobby. The weather guy in the news said that it would be sunny all day long, so Arthur though they'd take the subway to get to the square. When they stepped out of the building, damn it was such a good day. After a few days of constant raining, today it looked like the streak had finally stopped, and the sun had shown its friendly face. The weather wasn't very hot, in fact it was a quite warm.

The streets were busy as always despite it being a weekend morning, though there weren't much pedestrians. They walked side by side down the avenue, Peter was in the middle, holding hands with Arthur and Alfred. The oldest of the three watched the other two as they talked and laughed, feeling his spirit soared high just at the sight of those children happily chatting, just being children. He gazed up at the warm sun and breathed in the fresh morning. He felt today was going to be a good day.

Early morning subways on weekend were less-crowded than usual. Arthur bought three tickets for them, while the other two waited for him by a pillar. It only took one train to get to their destination, so they didn't rush on their way. They rode on the bullet train going for the city square RMT just for a few minutes, and already they had to get off.

It only took five minutes by foot to get to the venue. Peter had ran ahead while he shouted for Arthur and Alfred to hurry it up, he sounded very enthusiastic and excited. When they arrived at the square, the tents, the stands and the stage were all set up but the festival hadn't officially opened yet. There were already some kids and parents waiting on the entrance, fidgeting impatiently on their toes.

"Aaah! Raivis! Raivis! Anthony! Jackie!" Peter pointed his finger when he spotted his best friend, who were among the waiting crowd, he was also with a few other boys. They were also Peter's friends. He immediately ran up to them and blended in instantly.

Arthur approached the parents and exchanged pleasantries with them, while Alfred stood a bit away. While they chatted, the festival spokesperson stepped up on a low podium right between the entrance gate and declared the festival had been opened. The kids were screaming in joy, dragging their parents or siblings into the venue in rush, while Arthur, Peter, his playmates, and their parents hadn't moved. They decided they wouldn't go straight away with the majority of the crowd, to prevent any of their children from getting lost.

"Can we please go? Can we pleaseeeeee goooo?" The kids began to beg to their parents, including Peter, who was pulling at Arthur's jacket with pleading eyes.

The British man sighed, noticing the other parents shared his sentiment. "Please take care of Peter while I'm gone. I'm just next door at the gallery - Call me if something happens." He spoke to Raivis' father, a kind-looking man. His wife was next to him.

"It's okay. Leave it to us. We'll watch out for Peter." Raivis' mother assured him, smiling sweetly.

After the group went in, Arthur looked around for Alfred, finding the boy was sitting in a nearby bench. He cast him an apologetic smile as he approached him. "Sorry, I had to talk with the parents. They agree to watch out for Peter while we go to the open house."

" 'tis okay. Are you sure you're not going with them? I can wait."

"It's fine. Peter doesn't like it if I'm around when he's playing with his friends, he said I'm too overprotective - I'm not sure where he learnt that word though." Arthur laughed embarrassedly. "Anyway, shall we go?"

"Umm 'kay." The younger boy got up, then they went to a building next to the city square. It looked like it was an open house for a new kind of art gallery. Arthur took a pamphlet of it and showed it to Alfred so they could see it together.

"Let's see… they have the usual Fine Arts' paintings and sculptures… hmm? What's this? 'The Culinary Art - The Art of Gastronomical Proportion' … this sounds new." The Brit flipped the page and the sample photos of it were printed there as well.

"Wow, looks tasty." He muttered softly when he saw pictures of all kinds of artistically decorated cakes and desserts, but there were also some uniquely-constructed dishes as well.

Then he closed the pamphlet, turning to Alfred.

"Well, this might be interesting after all. Let's get in." The American boy nodded in agreement.

They stepped into the first chamber, where they displayed paintings and sculptures made by well-known artists. They lingered around and commented to some, before they went to the next chamber, where they displayed the culinary artworks. There were assorted pastries and cakes, built and decorated in unique, avant-garde ways. They were put behind a glass box with fixed temperature to prevent the cakes from melting and curious onlookers.

"This is really impressive. I should bring Peter here later." Arthur uttered, stunned, looking at a British Castle made of colorful creams, cookies, chocolate laces, giant candies and other sweets. There was a space-themed pastries in the shape of rocket and spaceship, Arthur felt it could fit an adult, if they crawled inside.

They looked around and went on, the pastries chamber ended and they arrived in a hall full of actual food architecturally arranged in such original sublimity and appetizing way, that it tickled Arthur's already full stomach. They stopped to look at one that was particularly expertly-handled that the vegetables and the sauce looked like it was gleaming. Arthur noticed a plank card attached to the glass box, he read from it that the dish displayed in front of them was made by the headmaster of a famous culinary school.

Zachary Bourdaire of Zachary Bourdaire's Specialized Academy of Culinary, he read.

He had heard of that name before, his big-time clients had spoken generously of him as a very talented chef. Bourdaire apparently had built a reputation by cooking for celebrities' parties, five-stars hotels ballroom venues, and other important events. Arthur was about to mention this to Alfred, when he saw the youngster was staring at the displayed dish with a solemn expression as such that Arthur had never seen before.

"Alfred?" Arthur called out. But Alfred looked so preoccupied, that he didn't hear Arthur.

He tried to call him again. "Alfred."

Alfred had flinched and looked surprised, but unlike before he immediately answered. "Yeah? What is it?"

He felt different than before. "No, nothing." Arthur shook his head.

"…? Okay."

They moved to the next display, each in which Arthur noticed Alfred had great interest in. They spent longer time within that particular area than with the others. The Brit was not sure whether the boy realized it himself, but he had been staring at each piece with the same intense feelings to him as before. He seemed really intrigued, questioning how they could make the dishes that way, what ingredients they used, and how they would taste like.

After that, there wasn't much to see, so they exited the gallery. Outside of the building, Arthur checked his watch and realized there was plenty of time before Peter's play date ended. He told this to Alfred, who then suggested they wait for Peter in a nearby coffee shop. Arthur agreed. The Starbucks was right across the streets, so they decided to go there and have some coffee before lunch.

Alfred chose a table in the terrace, while Arthur was in the shop and ordered for them. He returned to the table with a mug of searing hot expresso and a bagel for Alfred, while Arthur had a cup of Darjeeling tea and some lemon cookies. Arthur breathed in the scent before he sipped the hot tea slowly, tasting the natural sweetness in his mouth, before he swallowed in joy.

After he put down the cup onto the plate, he noticed Alfred was staring at him. "What is it?" Arthur asked.

"Nothing." Alfred shook his head. "I just thought you'd definitely order some coffee. But it looks like you like tea better."

"Yes, I love tea. For me it's very relaxing." Arthur smiled. "I do drink coffee occasionally, only when I have a bad day, or I don't get much sleep but has to go to work."

"…I see." Alfred looked thoughtful for a moment. "We're running out of tea leaves at home, I should buy some more la - ah."

Arthur cocked his head to the side. Alfred averted his eyes while sipping his coffee quietly, but the older man noticed something was wrong.

"What's wrong? You're quiet all of a sudden." He asked him.

Alfred shifted his gaze at the man, he fidgeted in his seat and looked uncomfortable. "Nothing. I'm just - nothing." He insisted.

The Brit clearly didn't buy it. "You don't look like that and tell me it's nothing. Tell me what's bothering you."

It seemed that the younger boy had realized that he couldn't fool Arthur. Another silent moment emerged for the next few seconds.. "I… I feel embarrassed." Alfred admitted, his eyes looking away. Yet Arthur could see the boy's face was lightly flushed.

"Embarrassed? Embarrassed of what?"

"Because… I talked like… like I'm going to stay with you guys much longer."

Emerald eyes widened in surprise at Alfred's unexpected confession. The boy was now red to his ears as he looked down at his lap, hiding his face from the British man. He must've thought it was something awful to think of. Arthur was taken aback, of course, but he quickly recovered. They both were silent for a total of three seconds, before the Brit broke it.

"…do you want to stay with us, Alfred?" He suddenly asked.

Alfred's head was lifted up sharply, blue eyes widened. "I… I…" He seemed flustered and scared, gaping his mouth. Arthur was calm and serious as he waited for the boy's answer.

"I can't! I can't be a bother to you anymore… you've been so kind to me and," Alfred choked on the words. "And besides! Besides, the government guys will probably come to take me someplace, I heard it from my friend… they'll let me sleep and give me food there, so I won't be a trouble to anyone… I…"

"You're not answering me," Arthur stated firmly, coldly. "I asked, 'do you want to stay with us?' Tell me your true feelings, Alfred." Jade green eyes looked straight at azure sky ones.

"Do you or do you not want to remain living with Peter and me?"

Alfred was dumbfounded. His shoulders shook and his lips trembled, he looked afraid to speak out his mind. Staring down as if ashamed, a shadow overcame his features and hid his face. Meanwhile, Arthur was waiting patiently for the boy to finally crack his waning resolution.

" … ant to…" Alfred mumbled incoherently.

"I can't hear you." Arthur told him.

"I want… to…"

"…if you're a man, you have to state what you want loudly, Alfred. Say it louder!" Arthur barked, earning surprised gasps and stares from the other costumers. The Brit ignored them.

Alfred stood up until the chair he was sitting on fell backwards behind him and a bit of his coffee spilled out when the table clattered. He stared straight at the older man with forceful eyes. There was also fear, but another emotion overcame it. Arthur recognized it as childish selfishness, something the teenage boy should've displayed every once in a while, but chose to hide it out of consideration and fear of rejection.

"I… I want to stay!" He blurted out, panting hard after he had poured his feelings in that one statement. The other people around them, including a few pedestrian had stopped what they were doing to look at the source of the commotion.

Arthur's lips formed a proud, satisfied smirk.

"I'm glad you feel that way. I don't plan to let you go into that bloody rat's nest anyway." Arthur stated calmly, as he sipped his tea.

"Huh? Wh-what?" Alfred didn't seem to catch on what the older man was saying.

"First, sit down so people don't stare at you anymore."

Realizing the curious stares from random strangers all around them, Alfred flushed in embarrassment and quickly grab the fallen chair and sat on it, then he proceeded to drown his face in his hands, probably praying they would turn into a blackhole and suck him in. Arthur was considerate enough to stay cool. He waited until Alfred had calmed down before they started talking.

"Alfred, I want to tell you something."

"I wish you would continue to live with us as a part of our family. But… there are some problems we need to solve in order for you to be able to live with us properly, since you're still a minor. Despite that, I want you to be able to stay with us. I will do my best to provide you with anything necessary, including education."

He looked at the boy straight in the eyes. "So, if you let me… I would like to take the role of your guardian, Alfred."

Alfred was stunned and speechless. Arthur only smiled.

"… I suppose this might be too sudden for you. You don't have to answer right away, think about it carefully." Uttering calmly, the Brit sipped on his tea.

Arthur looked up at the soaring warm sun peeking through some cotton-like clouds in the midst of an extensive aquamarine canvas, while the rain clouds was swept away by the spring wind towards the silvery lines of the horizon. Arthur brought a hand to shade his eyes from its radiant rays, the weather was getting hotter.

He thought it was a good day indeed.

TBC

A/N: I feel like I haven't written enough despite the chapter's length. I guess that means more writing?(OwO)b++

Tell me what you think! :-)