The sweltering summer of L.A. always took its toll on me. I had been living in California long enough to understand that it didn't always have seasons like that in England, or seasons at all really, but I hadn't adjusted to such dry and hot summers. Alfred told me that I was lucky I didn't have to deal with humidity, and I agreed.

Eight months we had been together. We celebrated this shortly after Alfred's birthday. We kept this birthday rather low-key with just a party at the station. One of the fireman's wife's had baked Alfred a cake and the rest of us made side dishes. I wasn't allowed in the kitchen, so I was put on decoration duty. I left an empty seat beside Alfred with the label Matthew Williams. Alfred choked up when he saw the chair and not a single person sat it in all night long.

It was hard to believe he was actually gone. Sometimes it would take me by surprise as I'd be doing something in the middle of the day or when I lie in bed just letting my mind wander. It was something I just didn't constantly think about. Alfred, however, still carried the burden on his shoulders almost as if he had personally killed Matthew, and to him, he had.

While I dealt with my therapy in December and into January I also dealt with the most emotional Alfred I'd ever seen. His moping had gotten to the point it affected his work performance. Captain Carrideo called to see me one day and asked if there was anything I could do. If going home to see his family didn't help, I didn't know what little else help I could be.

We fought. Oh did we ever fight. At times it seemed the end one day, and a whole new beginning the next. Many days and sleepless nights I couldn't handle everything that had fallen onto my lap. And yet we remained together. I loved him more and more each day, wishing to be in his arms the moment I was out, and crying if we parted after a nasty feud.

Both of us were happy to see winter leave. Alfred had his own personal guilt to tackle while I had my own physical problems. We were both there for each other as best we could be, but there were days I snapped at Alfred to leave me alone. I didn't want to hear him cry about how he was a terrible person for killing Matthew. And he, thinking I was insensitive, would yell at me to stop being such a "hard ass", as he put it.

And then, just as if we had met for the first time, Alfred arrived at my house with flowers and an "I love you" card. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him and he smiled that stupid and lovely grin of his. I told him I loved him and I'm sorry, and he did the same and all was forgiven.

It was a much needed reboot for our relationship.

After that our moods improved. I was over therapy completely and could walk just fine. Even cold days didn't bother me too much anymore. Alfred had dealt with the loss as best he could. He returned home for his mother's birthday in April, this time without me, and upon arriving back in L.A. he seemed much more his cheery self.

So I bought him flowers.

That night I had appeared at his doorstop with a rose arrangement Alfred had teared up. He took his glasses off and wiped at "something stuck in my eye" before telling me this was the best gift he'd ever been given. My chest warmed as he pulled me into a tight hug.

"You're such a child," I had said, kissing his cheek.

Now it was mid-July and I was pacing my flat waiting on good news. My mobile was in my hand as I mentally demanded it ring. In the background was my television with some show on low volume mumbling in the background to create noise in the quiet space.

My mobile rang and I answered before the first ring would finish. I hated sounding eager, but it wasn't as if I were waiting for someone to ask me out on a date. This was a matter of my job.

"Hello? Nancy?" I answered.

"…Arthur?"

That was not a woman's voice. It was Jamie's. Why was he calling me? There was no need for another firefighter to call me. I had only one firefighter in my life. And he was safe and sound.

Yes.

"…Jamie," I said slowly.

He hesitated and I found myself standing in one spot with the colors all around me blurring. I dropped the phone as I heard the words I didn't want to hear. No matter how many months since my last trip to the hospital had prepared me, I just didn't want to hear it. I couldn't hear it.

"You had better come to the hospital. There's been an accident."

If the hospital had been close I would have run, but as such I had to rely on my car. And traffic. California traffic was difficult enough, but Los Angeles traffic was downright disgusting. I managed to evade the worst of it by taking side streets that would normally add more time, but were relatively clutter free now.

Dashing into the hospital was a part of my memory that's filled with more a numbed anxiety and dulled senses more than an actual vivid image. I recall someone telling me to not run, but I obviously didn't pay them any mind. I reached the group of firemen standing in the waiting room. The captain tried to stop me, but I wouldn't hear it. He could tell me that Alfred was magically healed and I was overreacting for all I cared, but I had to see him for myself.

At first my mind flashed to Matthew lying in that bed and the heart monitor screaming his death, when in fact there was a steady rhythm and Alfred was popping ice cream in his mouth happily. He had his left foot up in a cast and his left hand in its own mini cast. Other than that he seemed perfectly fine.

"A-A-Alfred?" I breathed.

He looked over and smiled. "Arthur! Hey babe!"

I stumbled over my feet as I dashed to be by his side. I all but flung myself across the bed, forgoing any sense of my normal composure. I had just thought for the past fifteen minutes that my Alfred was seriously injured. Had I known he was perfectly fine and slurping down melted ice cream I would have paused to at least turn off the telly or gotten him flowers. Instead I cried on his shoulder, complimenting and insulting him at once, and kissing his neck until I felt satisfied.

"I told you to wait," I heard from the doorway. The captain had come in, arms crossed and a smirk on his face. "I was going to tell you he's fine. Just minor burns and a broken foot and twisted wrist."

"The way Jamie said it on the phone sounded like he was seriously injured," I replied as I wiped at my face and straightened up. Still, I kept a hand on his, just to feel calm.

"Well, Jamie was shaken up," Antonio replied. "We all were. We lost one boy, we couldn't lose another."

Alfred looked at his lap bashfully. "I was unconscious and I had fallen like Matt had, so…"

I squeezed his hand, looking at the window to hide the threat of tears. "Yes, well you're an idiot…"

"At least I saved the little girl," he said happily. He resumed eating his ice cream.

"A little girl?" I turned around and smiled at him. "How noble of you…"

Antonio snuck out after a time. I was preoccupied watching over Alfred. My fingers stroked his hair, grateful the blonde locks hadn't been singed. There was still soot dusty his rosy cheeks and I brushed them affectionately.

Eventually Alfred placed his ice cream aside. I drew on his cast, as per his request, and bought him flowers. This time it was the same flowers he had first brought me while I was injured: blue and purple flowers. And I didn't forget the Get Well Card.

"C'mere," Alfred said in a low voice as he pulled me down to kiss him.

I shifted to sit on his bed, holding his hand. Kissing was lovely, as it always was, but right now I just wanted to be near Alfred. The adrenaline rush from earlier had drained me. Sitting in the chair next to his bed would've kept me content. Then again, kissing was even closer and more of an assurance that this wasn't some dream my mind had concocted and I wasn't out in the hallway a raging mess.

"Oh! Am I interrupting something?"

We hurriedly broke our kiss. I ducked my head as my ears heated up. Alfred allowed the man at the doorway to enter, and I heard him speak, this time really listening to his voice.

"Forgive me," he said.

I turned in horror. "No. It can't be."

A man with shoulder length blonde hair and light stubble smiled pleasantly at me. His blue eyes lit up in recognition. Of course it was my luck of the day.

"Francis Bonnefoy," I said flatly.

"Arthur Kirkland," he replied with a sly smile.

"Alfred Jones!" We both looked at Alfred as he smiled obliviously from his spot on the bed. "What? I didn't want to be left out!"

I returned my attention to Francis. "What are you doing here? I thought I'd seen the last of you."

"Yes well stranger things have happened," he started with a brush of his hair. Unfortunately he stepped further into the room. "Your boyfriend here has saved my life."

I chuckled with a smug look. "He said he saved a little girl."

"He did," Francis said, ignoring me. "My daughter."

"What?"

I wasn't sure what I was more surprised at; the hilarity of the situation that my past intermingled with my present, that Francis had a daughter, or that he had actually settled down enough to have a child in the first place.

Well, first I had to double check his ring finger. He might've adopted the girl with his gay lover. I knew Francis had been anything-sexual, but it was still astonishing to see he had chosen just one female in the entire population of the Earth. Sure enough, there was a ring. Homosexual marriages were still outlawed in this state.

"Wait, how do you two know each other?" Alfred asked before I could comment on Francis' marital status.

I sighed. Without looking at him I waved a hand out towards Francis. "He's my ex-boyfriend."

Alfred's eyes widened. Then he furrowed his brow. A hand moved out to take mine and pull me close protectively. "You mean the guy who threw you out…?"

Francis frowned. "I did not throw him out. I couldn't afford rent and I told him he had to move. He took it to mean…" He stopped and waved a hand in the air as if to disperse smoke. "What's past is past. I am a married man and it seems Arthur has found a replacement of his own."

I turned to pick a fight, my index finger ready to poke Francis in the chest, but I managed to catch myself upon seeing a young girl poke her head around the corner. She had long brown hair in braids and glasses that teetered on the edge of her nose. She seemed so meek and shy, quite the opposite of her father.

"Papa?" she asked quietly.

Francis turned and held his arms out. "Ah! Viens ici ma belle."

The small girl must have been no older than six as she ran happily into Francis' arms. He scooper her up, resting her against his chin. He pecked the top of her head. She smiled and closed her eyes.

"This is my daughter, Marie," Francis introduced. "Marie, Arthur and Alfred."

Marie opened her eyes. She focused on first me and then Alfred. She recognized Alfred as a smile lit up her face. She held up her hand, fingers closing in and then opening in a cute wave. Alfred mimicked her as he smiled widely.

"Hi there Marie," he said affectionately. "Are you okay?"

She nodded. Her voice was laced with a thick French accent. "Yes… Thank you…for saving me…Mister Alfred."

"Aw, it was nothing sweetie. And don't worry, I'm not that hurt. I'll be up in no time!" Alfred held up his good arm and flexed it.

Marie giggled, although I'm not sure how much of it she understood. She then reached out her arms to him. Francis lifted her over and set her down on Alfred's bed. He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her with his eyes closed.

Somehow, in that moment, Alfred's mourning period was over. Marie was not Marie, but a little Canadian that he had grown up with all of his life.

Francis took Marie back after a moment and told her to find her mother, all in French. She nodded and thanked Alfred again. Then she skipped out of the room. It was amazing she had no injuries, not even the slightest scrape. Alfred had thrown his entire body over her to protect her.

I placed my hand on his, and he looked at me. I whispered, "Such a hero…"

"Now then!" Francis exclaimed as he turned his attention back to us. "Alfred, is there anything I can do? I would love to do something to show my gratification."

Alfred held up a hand. The same smile was on his face. "No. Really. I'm just glad she's safe."

"There is something I'd like to know," I started. "What are you doing in America? L.A. for that matter?"

Francis reached into his inner suit pocket and pulled out a business card. He handed it over to me. "I work for the L.A. Times as a senior journalist."

My jaw dropped. "You?"

"Yes, yes, I know. It is hard to believe." He was smug, the bastard. "I recall you moved here to break out into the writing industry, yes?"

My face reddened. How dare he? He knew very well why I had moved here. Part of that was his fault.

"He's got a new book coming out!" Alfred exclaimed. He beamed proudly at me, taking my hand. "He's just waiting on the word from the printers that it's finished. It's coming out this month!"

Francis eyebrows rose. "Really? Well that's wonderful news. I am rooting for you. Is it child friendly? I shall buy it and read it to Marie."

"It has unicorns and princes!" I closed my eyes at Alfred's innocent declaration. He was so proud he forgot to keep himself reserved.

Francis would look for anything to tease me about. And he knew just how much I used to be involved in fairytales and mythological creatures when we dated. I couldn't bring myself to open my eyes and look at Francis for fear of that taunting expression to return.

Instead he said, "How exciting. I will have to buy it now."

I opened my eyes in surprise. Was Francis actually acting like a decent human being? I'll admit even as we dated he had a long streak of being downright cruel to me. The fights I had with Alfred were nothing in comparison to the ones I would get into with Francis. Somehow that was what drew me to him. He stood up to me and I to him. So when our feuds got out of hand, instead of apologizing and discussing the problems that sparked this incident, we would just have sex and all would be forgiven.

That was why Alfred was different. It's not that we didn't have sex often (because we did), it was that it wasn't a critical part of our relationship. It was balanced. We were balanced.

Also, my confidence was much higher than it had been when I was with Francis. At the time I was still hiding myself from my own family. Things at home were also rapidly deteriorating. I felt lost in the world, wandering to and from Francis' arms with never a clear explanation as to how come everything was being thrown out. Why my life was slipping between my fingers even as I grasped at the pieces that I thought I understood. Turns out, I didn't understand anything.

It struck me odd to see how much Francis and I had changed. When we broke up I could hardly stand to look at him, let alone be in the same room as him. Even thinking about him was painful enough to take my breath away. But here we stood, our lives so vastly different, and yet not all that different. He had become successful in journalism like he wanted, and he had a family.

Meanwhile I was finally making a name for myself in the writing industry. I didn't know, nor did I care, how big I would become, but the fact was I wasn't shying away from the difficulty. I was doing it. And I had a boyfriend. One that I loved dearly. My hero. My flower boy.

Francis cleared his throat after a moment. "If you wouldn't mind, Alfred, I would love to do an article on you about this incident."

"An article?" he asked. "What do you mean? Like you write about how I saved your daughter?"

"Yes, yes, exactly." Francis nodded. He had produced a small notebook and pen from seemingly nowhere and already occupied the empty chair. He crossed his legs in expectation, pulling out reading glasses. "I'd talk of your company too, of course, but I'd like to talk about you. You are my hero."

Alfred straightened up. I rolled my eyes. Here we go.

"Well, I mean! Sure! Ask away!"

A few hours later and Alfred was released. His injuries were not serious. He was given crutches for his foot. His wrist was only sprained and would need a wrist guard for a few weeks. Even his burns were minimal to what they could have been if he hadn't stopped, dropped, and rolled. I called him heroic once more as I took him home and I think his head exploded with ego.

I arrived at my own apartment by night. Sitting on the doorstep was a package in brown wrapping and tied with twine. A white piece of paper was on top that said, "Heard you were at the hospital. Maybe this will cheer you up. Hope all is well." It was from Nancy.

I tore it open before even going inside. I knew that I would turn around and rush right back to Alfred's.

"Arthur?" Alfred asked, confused. He had just opened the door to me and furrowed his brow. "Is everything all right?"

I kissed Alfred and came inside. I clutched the package in my arms. "Everything is just perfect, my love."

"What's that?" Alfred took a seat on the couch, pointing at the brown paper. "Did you get something?"

"I got more than something." I held out the book to him. "I got my book!"

Alfred snatched the book and whooped in joy! He touched the cover, fingers tracing my name, and then smiled up at me. "This is the coolest thing I have ever seen!"

I was giddy with excitement, stress, relief, love, pride, I wasn't sure. So much in the past twelve hours, a mixture of good and bad. But this, this book, this 500 page book now sat on Alfred's lap.

Quickly I moved to get a pen and took the book in my arms. I opened to the first few pages where the dedication was and scribbled my name and a small note. Then I handed it back to him.

Alfred sat silently as he read my note and the dedication.

To Matthew Williams.

You will never be forgotten.

Then, underneath in my writing I had written,

And to my Alfred Jones. I love you.

Alfred pulled my down and hugged me. We laughed and I think he cried a little and just kept the book between us, talking about its contents. Alfred was sad to see I hadn't named the prince after him, as I told him months ago. None of the characters were named after anyone I knew and there were no events that connected to my life.

That's not what I wanted this story to be about.

My last story had been my desires. What I had hoped a man would mean to me and what he could do to me. That had come true with Alfred here beside me. This story was a fantasy. A world that I had escaped to when little and alone and feeling neglected in this world. Why would I want to connect anything to that world?

It was one I no longer had to escape to.

"Arthur?" Alfred asked after a time. He stroked my hair as he nuzzled against my cheek. "Babe… Would you… Would you like to move in with me?"

I pulled my face back and looked him in the eyes. They were clear and blue, his glasses off to the side as I had taken them off some time ago. He looked so young and beautiful and untouched when underneath I knew he had a scar and burns and a tattered heart. And I loved every bit of it because he had loved me back and done so much more than I ever thought possible.

I smiled, stroked his cheek, and then nodded without saying anything. My smile grew wider until I showed teeth. He laughed and hugged me. He hurriedly whispered his love for me. I kissed his cheek in return.

Come morning I had returned to my flat to begin boxing things up, but I returned to Alfred soon enough to help him around the house. He wasn't as incapacitated as I had been, but it was still something that made me feel good. He had helped me so much that it was only natural that I do the same for him in return. Alfred didn't mind. He just lay on the couch with a relaxed smile.

He would be out of work until his injuries had healed. Time off was a good thing for him.

Shortly after lunch our libidos had begun to get the better of us. Alfred pulled me down on top of him, an arm resting on the small of my back, and I kissed him into the pillow.

Then, the phone rang. My tongue was practically down his throat by now. I was not answering it. Alfred didn't move to answer either. Instead he tried to pull my shirt off, and I obliged him. My eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of his fingers on my skin. With one hand in a splint he couldn't be as adventurous as he normally was, but I didn't mind. I understood.

The answer machine picked up after it stopped ringing. Then, Francis voiced filled the apartment.

"Bonjour! It is Francis! Alfred, I sent the story to my editor and she wants me to change it. She wants me to write about you and Arthur!"

I broke the kiss to look over at the phone as if Francis was actually standing there. Alfred pushed me up and told me to answer it.

"What?" I asked as I picked up the phone, halting the recording.

"Oh ho! Am I interrupting something again?" Francis laughed.

"What do you mean you want to write about us?" I asked, ignoring him and my warm cheeks.

"The paper has been looking for a good story about a homosexual relationship to bring to the masses for ages. We had a few, but none really caught the readers' eyes. Too unusual or too bland or something. But my editor is convinced that your relationship is the perfect mixture of romance and normalcy that the people will connect with it!" Francis had talked faster the longer he explained. "We want to use you to bring a good light to the homosexual community, get people more used to the idea that two men in a relationship are just as normal as a man and a woman in one."

I was a private man, especially after the park back in November. I didn't exactly feel comfortable letting the Los Angeles area know that I was dating one of their firemen. My editor and publisher might not like the idea either. It was already rather risky when my first book had my sexuality mentioned in my biography, but since I hadn't made very many waves with the publication, no one seemed to care. But Alfred was a hero. He had appeared in the newspaper more than once and people respect and loved him.

That might change if they knew he batted for the other team.

Not only that but I was concerned about the fact Francis said we'd be a story for all of homosexuals. As if we were some headliner. What would that exactly entail? I didn't want to be pulled to do appearances for those in need of adjusting, such as Allied or LGBT meetings. I wasn't that kind of man, and Alfred was far too busy for such things. The few times he went with a crew mate to explain how to properly evacuate a fire in a building in front of school children was the extent of his talks.

"I…I don't know. I'll have to ask my publisher and editor and Alfred will have to give his consent as well. His captain might not like it."

"Of course! Of course!" Francis said casually. "You have my card. Call me when you have all the agreements in order!"

Then, he hung up. I looked at the phone, and then placed it back on the hanger. I walked over to Alfred. He was sitting up now.

"What was that all about?" he asked.

I sat down and tried to wrap my head around the situation. I wasn't sure how I could explain everything clearly. Instead, I looked at Alfred and said, "We need to make a few phone calls."

"Arthur! It's here!" Alfred exclaimed. He hobbled into the kitchen where I was making tea. He held out the newspaper excitedly. "It's finally here!"

I laughed as he flung the paper onto the table, acting like it was Christmas. Actually, he was more excited today than he had been Christmas morning.

"Alfred, it's nothing special. Really," I said, trying to reason. "You're in the paper multiple times."

"Yeah, but you aren't!" he said happily. I tried not to wince at his statement, but he was right. "Where is it? Come on, where's the local section? AHA! Here we go!"

I sputtered on my tea as I saw the front of the paper. It was a picture of me and Alfred sitting here in the kitchen. It had only been taken yesterday, but the entire interview seemed so long ago. Francis had come by around noon, a day after he called to change the article. My publisher and editor were all for the publicity, while Captain Carriedo didn't mind as it was up to Alfred to make his own decision.

"Read it, Artie!" Alfred told me. He thrust the paper to me. "Please? You sound so eloquent!"

I rolled my eyes, but took the paper. "You only say that because you like my accent."

"That's exactly what I mean. Now read."

I thought him a fool, but loved him all the same. I took a sip of tea as I read the article.

Love in the Hospital
Written by Francis Bonnefoy

Not many would think that a romance could begin when in a car accident and a fireman saved your life, but for Arthur Kirkland (ft. right, 25) that was exactly what had happened. Alfred Jones (ft. left, 22) is a local known hero firefighter that I recently came to meet by him saving my five-year old daughter, Marie, in a tragic fire this past Monday. Jones sustained minor injuries and was able to leave the hospital the same day as when he entered.

I sat down with the couple of eight months to ask about their relationship as it seems very unusual for a firefighter and a writer to meet and fall in love under the grave state of their initial meeting.

Kirkland had been in a harrowing four-car accident back in October of last year on the 5. It was then that Jones rushed to the car to free him before his car caught on fire. Kirkland had fractured both of his legs and was to be in a wheelchair for at least two months.

"I brought him flowers every day," Jones said of his early days of knowing Kirkland. "I think that was what attracted him to me."

Kirkland commented that he kept the flowers when he was released from the hospital. "When I had therapy in December he brought me more."

But it's not all roses with the couple. They reported that once they had been accosted while out on a date by a group of teenagers that assaulted Kirkland. Since then, they have kept their relationship a secret. However, Jones' company is very open to the couple and has welcomed Kirkland into the group as one of their own.

"They are very brave," Kirkland commented with a smile. "Every single one of them have put their lives on the line… They are dear friends."

One of their dearest friends, however, has…

I paused, gulping as I read the next line with great difficulty.

Has been killed in the line of duty. December of last year, Matthew Williams was killed. He was honored and then flown back to Boston where his widowed mother still lives. Williams was a childhood friend of Jones and they became firemen together here in L.A. upon moving four years ago.

I glanced up at Alfred, but he didn't seem to react as I thought he would. I continued reading aloud.

"It was a hard time for me," Jones said. He was sitting beside Kirkland during the interview and held his hand as he recalled the December tragedy. "Some days I didn't think I could get up, but Arthur was always there for me. He helped me stand up and get over the guilt."

Kirkland had his own problems to deal with. He had moved to America only two years ago after having been disowned by his own family for his sexuality. "Before I met Alfred I had a lot of self-esteem problems. I had moved to this country… and was still having a difficult time adjusting."

Kirkland is a…

Again I paused, but this time in surprise. My eyes read the line before I actually said anything aloud, just to make sure I wasn't hallucinating.

"What is it?" Alfred asked. "Is something wrong?"

I shook my head and said, "Kirkland is a…talented writer…whose abilities have yet to shine through… His first book was published early last year and didn't get much attention. His second book is set to debut this month."

Alfred smiled and patted my hand. "That was nice of him."

"It is…," I whispered. Francis had said he hadn't read my book, so how was he to know of my writing ability? He had actually complimented me. Right here in the L.A. Times. That bastard.

I smiled and finished reading the end of the article.

Currently the couple is happily living together. When asked about marriage, Kirkland said, "It's too early for that. We can't even think about it, especially as it is still illegal in the state."

Jones however said, "One day. I'd like that. Arthur means everything to me."

For now, Jones continues to bring Kirkland flowers and Kirkland visits the fire station when he can.

"I believe I will always love him," Kirkland said. Jones was out of the room at the time of this statement.

I choked. "He said he wouldn't print that!"

Alfred laughed. "Always, huh?"

"Sh-shut up!" I stuttered. "Let me finish."

"Alfred has brought back my confidence. He saved me. He'll always be my hero, even if he's no longer a fireman. I don't think of us as a man and a man, I think of us as a couple in love. We are together and I hope we always can be. I love him."

I put the paper down in silence. My face was an embarrassing shade of red, like the roses on the kitchen counter. How dare Francis write that? It was true, but I didn't want Alfred to hear such things. If I did it would be when the moment caught up with me and I had no idea what I was really saying. Now all of Los Angeles had seen my sappy declaration.

"I love you too," Alfred said. He smiled at me and pulled me over for a kiss. "I will always love you…"

We kissed and kissed and melted into each other's arms and oh how I loved him. He whispered if I meant what I said and I nodded. He kissed me again and said he loved me all the more. I returned the sentiments with more kisses.

Then, the phone rang again. I thought it was Francis again. I wasn't sure if I should thank him or not, even though I wasn't truly mad at him.

"Let me answer that," I said. I moved to the phone. "Hello?"

"Hello, may I speak to Arthur Kirkland?" a woman asked.

"Speaking," I replied. Had it begun? Was I to be called now and hassled by homophobic assholes or was I to be called in to make appearances?

"Hello, this is Betsy Fairfield with the San Francisco Chronicle. I saw the article in the L.A. Times about your relationship with your boyfriend. We would love to get a scoop about you two as well."

My face must have looked horrified rather than surprise for Alfred almost jumped out of the chair to reach me. I put a hand up to stop him. I heard a beep through the phone of a call waiting.

"Um, excuse me. May I put you on hold? Another call is coming in."

I beeped over to the other line. "Hello, is this Arthur Kirkland? I'm from the Seattle Times and we'd love to…"

My mobile vibrated on the table. Alfred moved to answer it. But shortly after he had answered, another phone call came in on his own cell phone.

Within an hour, we had received over twenty phone calls. Other newspapers, magazines, and television studios all asking to get an interview with us. Then, when we thought it was good and done, I had received a phone call from my editor, Nancy.

"The phones are off the hook today!" she exclaimed. "We've had people asking about you all day!"

It was all good publicity and I was to come in to the office tomorrow to see Nancy personally. Alfred pulled me to his lap as we laughed happily. It was amazing. We were suddenly loved rather than hated as I feared. I was still hesitant in the sudden push into the limelight, but it would only be for a short amount of time. We'd fade into the background soon enough.

Later that night, Alfred and I had celebratory sex.

The next morning when I entered the publishing headquarters I could see everyone was still answering phone calls and rushing about in a panicked frenzy. Nancy called me into her office.

"We want you to do another book," she said. "Your last one has flown off the shelves!"

I nearly fainted. "B-but I just put it out yesterday!"

Nancy laughed with her arms up in the air. "I KNOW! It seems the article yesterday boosted your sales tenfold!"

"B-but, I don't know what I would write about. I don't have a sequel in mind and all of these past events have been a whirlwind. I'll have to…"

Nancy interrupted me. She sat before me on her desk. "That's the thing! You don't HAVE to think up anything! We want you to write about your relationship!"

"What?" I asked, deadpanned.

"Yes! That's what everyone wants right now! The air in L.A. and California is just BRIMMING with your names! Alfred and Arthur! A love like no other! It's wonderful!"

I blushed, but shook my head adamantly. "I don't want that. I agreed to interviews and one talk show, but I do not want this to be the highlight of my career."

Nancy rushed forward, face pressing into my personal space. I had never seen her so erratic before. "Arthur, we're talking made for T.V. movie, sponsors, recognition from all over the US! Do you know the New York Times called this morning?"

"The…The…The Times…?"

"Yes!" She nearly flung herself over her desk as she jumped backwards on it. "It's amazing! All we want is just a little book. Something sweet and romantic. Write it from your point of view! Tell us everything! The people want to know! Tell us how you met, how your love blossomed! Just something! But we want a book!"

I looked at my lap. It wasn't terrible to have another book out, but one of my relationship? It was mine and Alfred's. I didn't want others to know how we had come to fall in love. It wouldn't be special.

"I'll have to talk to Alfred about this," I said after a moment.

"I say you do it!" Alfred cried that night over dinner. "You have to! That's so awesome! Oh, my parents called. I told them about the article and I even mailed them a copy. They are so proud of you."

I shook my head, scrapping mashed potatoes onto my plate. "I don't know, love. It's our love. Letting others in would seem…so invasive."

"It's not invasive," he said, handing me the gravy bowl. "Babe, it's not like we're going to tell them every single detail. Just the highlights. Skip a few months. Like the bad ones, you know? But it's your book and you can put in as much or as little as you want. But I don't have a problem with it."

I eyed him ponderingly. "Really?"

He stared back at me, and his smile vanished. "Are you really uncomfortable with the idea, Artie?"

"You know me. I'm not one to tell everyone my secrets. I like to keep things…private."

Alfred stood and hobbled over to me. He took my hand and smiled down at me. "And it will be. Just write this, give the people what they want so they'll leave it at that, and then we'll go on about our happy lives. Okay? Just write up until this very moment if that's what you want."

I smiled up at Alfred, unable to comprehend that this had all come to a head. He was still my beloved. We were four months from our one year, and four months from my one year accident. Six months until Matthew's one year death. And one year from realizing that we were together and loved each other more and more with each passing day no matter how bloody ridiculous and infuriating and childish Alfred could be. How cynical and cold and childish I could be.

So the next morning I sat down at my computer. The whirring edging me on as the minutes ticked away. Alfred was watching a red Sox game in the background, screaming for the umpire to open his eyes and make an actual good call.

I smiled and stretched my fingers out over the keys. Finally, I wrote what came to my head first.

I had been driving. That's how this all got started. It wasn't raining, the sun didn't reflect off of another car, and my car was in tip top shape. It was simply an accident.

Hoshiko2's cents: That's all for this series. I really hope everyone enjoyed the four chapters. I have some good news. My friend, sanguinehero, has supplied me with fan art that I will soon share on my main page and asked that I possibly act on another sex scene for this universe. I agreed and will do a one shot off-shot of the story for the boys to have some fun time.

I will make an announcement about that in my Rainbow Veins.

I hope you come back for more of my work! Thank you for all the love and favorites and reviews and just everything.