Author's Notes: Thank you all for all the support and reviews. I was actually surprised how many people responded to this in 24 hours. More attention than I ever hoped for. Here's its longer, angstier conclusion. Somebody call the wambulance.

Enjoy.

Wednesday, November 24

"You're still not gonna talk?"

Arthur didn't respond to Alfred's curious question. He simply folded his arms tightly to himself to withhold a shiver racking his spine from the colder afternoons now that winter was nearly upon them, and pursed his lips in a thin, tight line.

Alfred had one knee rested up on the cool plastic of the bench as he watched Arthur through his frozen glasses. The Briton had been like that for a few days now, not speaking, trying his hardest not to even acknowledge Alfred's presence, and wearing an overall brooding disposition that outrivaled his previous aggravations. The American sighed into his scarf, wondering what the big deal was.

So he'd fallen asleep; so what?

He needed sleep anyway. Granted, waking up four hours later, curled up against Alfred who was breathing softly into the crook of his neck while he caught some z's of his own, was not the best thing to wake up to. From all he understood, Alfred had awoken to a furious hiss and a hand pushing him over the side and onto the snow.

Arthur's face was beet red with eyes nearly bugging out of his head when he looked at his watch. That was way more than thirty minutes.

With a string of vibrant curses, most of which even made Alfred feel awkward, Arthur stormed away as quickly as possible to get back to work. Even to this very day, Alfred didn't know the repercussions of Arthur's actions. He didn't know how high a position the Englishman had, so he wasn't sure if he was chewed out or if he missed some super big deadline or meeting. All Alfred knew was that because of it, Arthur no longer wished to speak and/or associate himself with Alfred.

"I'll take that as a no then."

Alfred curled back against the bench with a despondent sigh. For a supposed responsible adult, Arthur sure seemed childish. Alfred wiggled his toes in his snow boots and peered at his cell phone. Arthur would be getting up any minute now.

Alfred licked at his chapped lips and glanced back at Arthur who was still looking ahead with a lethargic frown plastered to his lips.

"Is your job really that important? You know, to not sleep and stuff?"

Arthur didn't even bat an eyelash.

Alfred sank into his warm coat and hummed. "I don't know how anything could be that important that you would not sleep over it. Or eat. Or drink." Alfred paused and rubbed at his nose with his sleeve to stop an itch. "But I guess different people feel differently for things. I guess that's why you're mad for falling asleep. Although, I really will never understand why that could make someone mad."

Arthur inhaled a long breath before letting it out slowly. He felt like a human icicle. He wondered silently if this spot really meant enough to him to sit in the snow for it.

Then he thought back to his office when glancing over the trees to see the many tall buildings standing dauntingly. Yes, it certainly was.

Alfred shifted to his right making Arthur narrow his eyes at a dog being walked by a man across the pathway.

"I had this friend once. And he really liked school. Not for the sake of liking school, but because his parents fought a lot and he was always nervous and upset at home. School was the one place for him to get away from the broken beer bottles and screaming and crying. Even though my friend wasn't particularly good in school, he still loved it."

Alfred stuck his hand in his backpack and dug around until he pulled out a pack of gum. "But one day my friend ran into trouble. 'Cause my friend was good pals with another boy in his class named Toris, he was forced to see his buddy getting picked on by one of his larger classmates. My friend didn't like seeing Toris getting pushed around by his classmate who always smelled like vodka and was about as nice as a bulldog."

Arthur tried to ignore Alfred's stupid and most likely pointless story, but he couldn't quite zone him out. He wasn't sure if Alfred was aware that he was rambling.

The American easily popped a piece of gum in his mouth and began to chew. "Anyways, so my friend, being the hero that he was, stood up to the big, Russian brute and told him to stop messing with his friends. That was kinda stupid on his part, and it landed him a week in the hospital. But when he got back to school he still went at it again, sticking up for his friends, even though he knew that jackass was bigger and stronger than him. Pretty soon school wasn't his safe place anymore! I know, what an idiot, right? He totally destroyed the only place that wasn't chaotic."

Alfred turned to look at Arthur with animated features, waving his arms around wildly to the point that, even against his will, Arthur had to look over in curiosity.

"So he's miserable at home and backed into a corner at school. What a moron. I honestly don't know why I'm friends with someone so stupid. I think I pity him," Alfred laughed making Arthur furrow his brow. "But this friend of mine wasn't going to cry like a little baby for the rest of his life. He went out looking for another place to get away from the shit going on wherever he went. He nearly got lost a couple of times looking for this place and eventually had to take the subway for an hour every day just to get there."

Alfred leaned back and popped a bubble, stuffing his cold fingers into his pockets and looking out above the tree line. Arthur waited but Alfred didn't continue his story. He merely kept chewing at his gum, blowing bubbles here and there, and watched the people pass him by.

Arthur straightened up and frowned. That was it? That was all? Arthur wanted to scoff; of course the story would be pointless.

Checking down at his watch, Arthur sighed and stood up. He dusted the snow from his coat and aligned his collar. When he made to move, Alfred finally spoke up. Arthur looked down at the boy who didn't bother looking at Arthur, still lost in the mass of faces dancing around them.

"I know my story had no real point to it, but I thought I should tell you anyway because I think you and my friend have something in common. You guys both sacrifice a lot for something that you think you like. But even though you put in a lot of time and effort into it, you're still unhappy. School, work, who cares? You're both retards for treating it like it's the most important thing even though it kicks your ass from here to kingdom come and doesn't make you happy anymore."

Arthur stilled and flexed his fingers at his sides. He slowly let the words sink in as Alfred looked up at him with the tilt of his head. He smiled. "Just take a second to chill out. You shouldn't let your life revolve around something so stupid," he said, sticking his hand out.

Arthur blinked before taking the piece of gum offered to him.

"It's cinnamon."

Arthur stared at it before shaking his head and stuffing it into his pocket. As he walked away, shoes slushing uncomfortably against the wet snow, Arthur silently wondered if Alfred knew cinnamon relaxed him.

In the end, he didn't really care. He wasn't going to chew it anyway.

Thursday, November 25

"So where do you work exactly? It's walking distance right?" Alfred asked, kneeling down by the blue bench and patting at the snow. Arthur yawned into his hand and glanced over at the blonde who was looking way too amused to be making a snowman. Or judging by the knockers he was snickering at, snowwoman.

"As if I'd tell you that," Arthur scoffed. He wasn't sure why he had allowed himself to talk with Alfred once more, but chalked it up to not wanting to hear Alfred ramble on about every senseless thing known to man. At least when he was contributing a little to the conversation, he could shut the boy up for a while.

"What? Do you think I'm going to stalk you or something?" Alfred asked, looking up over his task to peer at Arthur. He grinned. "Don't flatter yourself."

Arthur glowered. "You misunderstand. As if I should be surprised by that now…" he faded off and rubbed at his temple. "Why are you so interested where I work?"

Alfred shrugged, sticking his tongue out in concentration as he poked his thumb into the face to make indents for the eyes. "I dunno. You seem to make such a big deal about it. It's only natural that I'd be curious," he explained, sticking two rocks onto the mound.

"I don't recall making a ruckus over my occupation."

"Oh, you make a ruckus all right," said Alfred, leaning up. "Hey, hand me that stick, will ya?"

Arthur followed Alfred's line of vision and leaned over to grab a twig by his shoe. He threw it towards the blonde, hitting him in the forehead. Alfred winced and rubbed at his face with a small frown before ignoring it and breaking the stick in half.

"What do you do at least? What could possibly make someone as worn down as you?"

Arthur exhaled through his nose and pursed his lips. He almost wanted to tell Alfred different things about himself. It wasn't like he was secretive or anything. But just the idea of getting to know Alfred on a more personal level then moderate strangers tickled Arthur the wrong way. He couldn't commit to something like that. That would mean Alfred was in the equation and Arthur wanted to just keep it himself, him, and only Arthur.

"I manufacture the little plastic tips on the end of shoelaces," drawled Arthur sarcastically. He flinched at how excited Alfred looked to hear that. It made something warm inside of his chest for some strange reason.

"Really?"

"No, not really."

Alfred's smile fell to a blank look once more. "Oh." He stuck the sticks into the woman and stood up to admire his handiwork. "So. What do you think?"

Arthur sighed and stood up as well, sore muscles and bones cracking and pulling in retaliation, before he took a few steps back and stared at a tiny snowman knee high with large breasts and two rocks for nipples. Alfred stood beside Arthur to hold out his thumbs and pointer fingers in a square and shut one eye, holding his hands out like a picture frame. "Get a gander at her." He finished with a clearly unnecessary wolf call.

"She's a dwarf," stated Arthur blandly, eyeing the longer left arm and short stature.

"She's vertically challenged," Alfred corrected.

Arthur blinked and rested his hands in his pockets. "Why does she not have any eyeballs?"

Alfred was too busy pretending to snap pictures of his hideous snowman thing. "Hm?"

"She has no eyes," repeated Arthur patiently.

"She has eye sockets," Alfred offered, glancing at Arthur with a smile and rosy cheeks. Arthur raised an impressive eyebrow.

"Yes, but there aren't any eyeballs in them."

Alfred bobbed his head to the side once in surrender. "Yeah. But I couldn't find any more rocks. Plus, it was either give her eyes or nipples."

Arthur nodded in understanding. "Ah. So naturally nipples are the necessity."

Alfred snorted and grinned at Arthur. "No contest."

Arthur turned away, his attention back onto the snowman as he looked it over carefully. After a long moment, Arthur spoke up. "Do you mind if I make one minor adjustment?"

Alfred stuck his hands in his sweater pockets and leaned back. "Knock yourself out."

Arthur walked forward upon hearing that and stood directly in front of the snow creature. He abruptly pulled his leg back and kicked, the eyeless, nipple friendly dwarf crumbling down to rest on the ground with the rest of the snow. Alfred gawked.

"Dude! What was that for?" he asked and briskly made his way forward to rest over his snowman as Arthur slid back to his spot on the bench and continued to watch the pedestrians.

"I fixed it for you. Don't you think it looks better that way?"

"Ha-ha. You so fuckin' funny," Alfred mocked, sighing and squishing his creation down with the rest of the uneven snow. He flopped himself down on the bench with a sigh and craned his head back to look up at the messy clouds. It looked like someone spilled their water color pallet all over the sky but just used, like, only grays and stuff.

"Were you always like this?" Alfred asked absentmindedly as he kicked his leg back and forth.

"Like what?"

"Like a total stick in the mud with no sense of humor?"

"I have a sense of humor. For example, I thought it was comical that you tripped over nothing the other week. And I thought it was comical when you burned your tongue on scalding coffee. And I thought it was comical that you believed that hideous Frankenstein of a monstrosity was worth more than a kick to the face."

Alfred winced and pretended to pull a knife out of his side. "Ouch. Harsh."

"Mm," Arthur hummed in response.

"You know what I find funny?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and yawned once more. "Let me guess; a monkey with a tambourine?"

Alfred laughed and shook his head. "That you think you're fooling anyone with your cynical persona."

Arthur scowled and cast Alfred a displeased glare. Alfred seemed to be enjoying himself, smiling as if the green eyes flashing in warning wasn't something to be reckoned with. He knew criticizing anything about Arthur's personal life was a bad choice, but didn't care much at the moment. They weren't strangers anymore, were they? They were more like acquaintances or something, right?

"Thank you Doctor Phil for your marvelous insight."

Alfred sniggered into his glove, his insides dancing at the look Arthur was bestowing him. "There it goes again."

"I'd much rather be cynical then have my head in the clouds all the time," Arthur countered rightly so. He did seem to hate Alfred's impossible ability to be jolly. Who did he think he was, Santa Claus?

"My head's not in the clouds."

Arthur lowered his eyelids in disbelief. "Really? What do you want to be when you grow up, hm?"

"An astronaut," Alfred replied without skipping a beat. He blinked and realized his mistake for blurting that out when Arthur shot him a smug expression.

"My point exactly. I'm sure the idea of being up where your mind always is is a touching thought, but unrealistic. I'm guessing you're barely passing your classes."

"I'm doing good enough," Alfred said, shoulders slumping at Arthur's negativity. Would it kill him to be supportive for once? Maybe that was why he was some high ranking businessman. He couldn't think out of the box.

"I'm sure you are, lad. My apologies. Do send me a line when you're admitted into NASA, won't you?" Arthur chuckled to himself. Alfred rolled his eyes and lolled his head away, looking down at his crumpled snowman.

"Yeah, yeah. Yuck it up. What goes around comes around, you know."

Arthur pretended to quiver, thin-lipped smile still gracing his face as his eyes danced with amusement. "Ooh, I'm shaking."

Alfred cupped his chin in his palm and regarded Arthur curiously, still managing to enjoy this malicious spectacle even if he was the butt of the joke.

It was always fascinating to see Arthur's rare smiles.

Tuesday, November 30

Alfred's eyebrows shot into his hairline as he approached the park bench, mouth opening slightly in awe.

Arthur seethed. "Don't say it."

Alfred's pace slackened as he looked over the little scrapes over the Briton's face, a large bandage sticking clear across his nose. He blinked, opening his mouth before shutting it. He opened it again only to have Arthur snap at him. "Don't say it," he warned.

Alfred slid his backpack off his shoulder and set it on the bench. "Say what?" he finally answered after a moment, feigning confusion. Inside he was fighting with the urge to worry or laugh.

"You know bloody well what. I swear to God if I get any lip from you, I'll storm away, I will," Arthur growled. Alfred sat down closely to Arthur and examined his face with a tilt of the head and hesitant smile. He looked rather wear and tear. Arthur felt his face heat up as Alfred ran a finger over the bandage. Blue eyes jumped up to green and Arthur grit his teeth, body tensing in pure, unadulterated anger. "Don't. Say. It."

Alfred's face nearly tore apart by his grin. "Say what? I told you so?"

Arthur was on his feet in a second, standing legs apart and fists shaking at his sides as Alfred buckled over with laughter. "It's not funny!" he shrieked indignantly. Arthur ignored the stares he received at the spectacle him and the boisterously chortling blonde were making.

"Th-that was why you weren't here yesterday?" Alfred choked out past his laughter.

"I don't see how this is amusing to you," Arthur spat, shoulders shaking in barely contained annoyance. "That idiotic cyclist didn't see where he was going! I was in the crosswalk!" Arthur growled when Alfred's laughter increased. "I could have died!" His face heated up in embarrassment when Alfred rolled off the bench upon hearing that. Arthur watched the blonde with a heaving chest before spinning on his heels and marching away, Alfred's laughter ringing in the back of his ears.

Karma, his ass.

Friday, December 3

Arthur didn't even open his eyes when he felt the familiar shift in the bench as Alfred sat down. It was a surprisingly calm day, the air still and snow ceasing its fall. He didn't want to ruin the tranquil atmosphere by getting Alfred going on some ridiculous conversation.

He crinkled his nose under his bandage when the minutes piled up and Alfred still hadn't made a peep. With a little curiosity, Arthur cracked open his eyes and glanced over at the American who was staring at his shoes with a very solemn look gracing his face.

Arthur continued to watch a moment before speaking. "What's with the long face, lad?"

Alfred didn't even move.

"Hm? Cat got your tongue? That would be a miracle," Arthur muttered. He ran a hand through his hair and cracked his neck. He swirled his tea in his Styrofoam cup and took a sip from the lid. Arthur let his eyes rest against Alfred again, his brow furrowing slightly, when he received no response or smart alec comment.

"What the devil is the matter with you?" he asked, sitting up and narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Alfred's dismal expression. Something pulled tightly in his gut when seeing the redness around Alfred's eyes. Had he been crying?

Arthur hadn't been in contact with many teenagers in his life so he didn't quite know the protocol or how to feel around them when something wasn't quite right, but deep down in his chest he felt something lick at him with a sense of defense. He was overcome with the feeling to comfort the boy.

Well, maybe not quite comfort; more along the lines of beating the living shit out of whatever was making Alfred's lip quiver in such a painful way.

He set his tea down and sat up, pursing his lips. "Is something bothering you?" he asked seriously.

Alfred let out a trembling breath and frowned, brow creasing and eyes glossing over dangerously with a sheen of water. Arthur learned just then that he didn't like that look anywhere near Alfred's face.

"Alfred, are you listening?" he asked firmer, reaching out to shake the boy's shoulder only to get his hand slapped away. He blinked in shock as Alfred curled in on himself, boxing Arthur out.

"I don't want to talk to you today," he said lowly. Arthur felt a jolt of nervousness shooting up his spine before it fluttered away.

"Are you alright?"

Alfred rubbed a hand over his face and craned his neck so that Arthur couldn't see his face contort in an attempt to keep his tears back. He didn't want to let anyone see him cry. He especially didn't want to let Arthur see him like this. So he turned away and hid his face behind his sweatshirt sleeve and spoke coldly.

"Please, just don't talk today, okay?" he pleaded.

Arthur reeled back slightly at the tone but didn't say anything. He leaned back and wrapped his hands in the warmth of his cup, not saying a word. Glancing over occasionally at Alfred, Arthur couldn't help but feel something rapidly burning hot with anger at every sniffle and hitch in Alfred's breath.

He felt like he did back when Alfred had showed up with a bruise on his face. And he felt just as defenseless now.

Arthur bit his tongue and willed himself to seem disinterested. After all, he couldn't impose himself into Alfred's personal life. That would cross the line into something more than strangers.

Tuesday, December 7

"How's that friend of yours doing lately?"

Alfred blinked in confusion, looking up from digging around the many papers in his backpack. "Huh?"

Arthur nursed his third cup of tea that day, blowing over the steam before taking a hardy sip. "Your friend; the one with the horrible life," he clarified, not taking his eyes off of a man and woman snuggling together under a tree, the man buttoning the woman's coat up. She kissed him on the nose sweetly making Arthur tilt his head with a lingering stare.

"Oh, him." Alfred resumed his digging indifferently. "Yeah, that guy's got problems. He's been alright I guess. Why do you ask?"

Arthur hadn't spoken of Alfred's little cry fest a few days ago. He simply went about his days as if he'd never witnessed it. He didn't know if Alfred was grateful for that or not, but he didn't care. Although, sometimes a thought would flutter into his mind when at his desk about Alfred's personal life. That had never happened before and it made Arthur uncomfortable. He wasn't sure if he was getting too heavily involved with this boy.

If worse came to worst, he would have to stop coming to his bench.

"That's great," Arthur responded. "No more fights or drunken arguments with his mother?"

"No, no. His old man's the drunk, not his ma. His ma's some whiny ex-beauty pageant nobody who's been off Vicodin for half a year now."

"Sounds like a lovely woman," Arthur muttered sardonically, taking another sip from his beverage.

Alfred pulled out a notebook and flipped through it quickly. "Yeah. Real charmer. My friend's actually going to miss her a little bit."

Arthur raised an eyebrow and picked up a spare paper that Alfred set on the bench. It was an English test with a big D branding the top of the page in a big red ink. Arthur put it down with a sense of boredom. "Is she going somewhere?"

"Yup. She's going somewhere far away where he'll never see her again."

Arthur pursed his lips, not quite liking the sound of that but not saying anything about it. He didn't know the whole story anyway. Alfred grumbled and rustled through his backpack. "Where the hell is it?"

"You need to organize yourself," said Arthur distastefully as he brushed garbage away from him. He blinked when seeing Alfred's wallet amongst the chaos of papers. Against his better judgment, Arthur reached out and grabbed it by one flap. He held it up until it opened, revealing a picture framed in plastic amongst an ungodly amount of gift cards.

Green eyes languidly skimmed over four faces; a large blonde man with a petite brunette woman. They each held one small boy, both wearing the same face but with different expressions. One boy grinned at the camera whereas the other being held by the woman shyly tucked his head down.

"There it is!" Alfred exclaimed, yanking his wallet from Arthur's hands who jumped in surprise. Alfred looked at the picture quickly before smiling. "That's my family," he announced almost proudly.

Arthur merely nodded and tried to appear impartial. Alfred let his eyes linger over the picture before turning it towards Arthur. "That's my twin brother, Mattie. He's always been pretty shy. Can't get him in front of a camera for anything nowadays."

"You don't look anything alike," Arthur admitted.

"We don't?" Alfred held the picture farther out and tilted his head. "We're twins though."

Arthur glanced away, eyes seeking out that couple under the trees. They already left. Of course Alfred and his twin brother looked the same. He just couldn't help but notice the enticing spark wasn't flaring in the other boy's eyes. There was no eagerness or liveliness like there was in Alfred.

Arthur silently wondered what a calmer Alfred would be like.

"It's only reasonable that you would be the homelier twin. Don't let it get you down too much," reassured Arthur. Alfred snorted and rolled his eyes, stuffing his wallet back into his backpack.

"Matt couldn't keep someone's attention to save his life. I don't know what you're talking about."

When Alfred began to stuff half completed homework and poor tests back sloppily into his bag, Arthur ran his tongue over his teeth. He opened his mouth, wanting to ask about Alfred's blatantly poor grades, but decided against it at the last minute. Instead, he finished off his tea and yawned.

That caught Alfred's attention.

"Speaking of homely people; how's your sleeping going?"

Arthur scowled. "Same as always. I'm fine as long as I have this," he motioned and shook his now empty cup. Alfred grimaced.

"Ugh. Tea is European urine, isn't it?"

"As long as coffee is America's."

"Hey, at least coffee gets the job done," Alfred argued.

"But leaves a dreadful aftertaste," Arthur argued with a cringe. Disgusting liquid, coffee was.

"Maybe you're just drinking it wrong?"

"Yes, that's probably it."

Alfred pulled out his phone and gasped, cursing. He quickly zipped up his backpack and threw it over his shoulder, stumbling to his feet. Arthur looked at him rather curiously as Alfred zipped up his jacket and tightened his scarf. "What's the matter with you?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I gotta be somewhere or I'll be in huge trouble. Shit, I'm gonna be late," Alfred grumbled and blew some hair out of his eye. Arthur narrowed his eyes.

"You have to be somewhere?"

"Yeah."

"Then what was the bloody point of sitting here for five minutes?" Arthur asked. All Alfred had done was show up, dig through his backpack, and prepare to leave. It actually irritated him quite a bit thinking that the boy even bothered to show up if he was just going to leave in the blink of an eye.

Alfred purposefully avoided that question and began to text something quickly on his phone. "I'll see you later, Arthur. Hope your tea works out for you."

Arthur started when Alfred ruffled his hair, not even getting enough time to smack the boy's hand away, before he was barreling down the pathway an out into the crowd. Arthur watched after him with a lump in his throat. What was the point?

He was annoyed that Alfred had even shown up to ruin five minutes of his quiet time.

But he found himself even more annoyed that he was upset with his abrupt disappearance.

Oh bother.

Monday, December 13

Arthur tapped his foot impatiently, checking his watch in what seemed like every thirty seconds. He didn't know why he felt so agitated, his body feeling restless. He blamed it on the coffee that he had tried to drink, much to Alfred's delight. After their brief disagreement on tea or coffee last Tuesday, Arthur had tried the vile substance in a bout of curiosity.

It did give him the zap of energy needed, but it also made his breath smell atrocious.

But Arthur secretly – though he really didn't want to admit it – knew that his agitation was from Alfred. Ever since the blonde had stormed off suddenly out of the blue, Arthur hadn't seen hide nor hair from the boy. The anxiety piling at the back of his mind was starting to affect his concentration at work, much to his chagrin. It was unacceptable and Arthur wanted to put a stop to it immediately.

Unfortunately, he couldn't, because Alfred hadn't shown up in the park for days.

And so Arthur did the only thing he could manage; he tapped his foot against the ground and scowled.

He pulled up his sleeve and looked at his watch once more, exasperated breath leaving his lips, when a flash of yellow caught his eye. He zipped his head up quickly and looked down the path to see Alfred slowly making his way towards the lone blue bench.

About fucking time.

Arthur folded his arms, hoping to look apathetic but knowing that he failed instantly, as he watched the downtrodden boy meander closer. Arthur felt himself tense, a searing sheet of red bubbling like lava deep within his belly when his eyes adjusted to Alfred's appearance the closer he got.

He wore a snow cap, something that Arthur had never seen the boy wear before, it covering his forehead, tufts of hair poking out. Alfred was also graced with a bigger scarf coiling around his neck like an anaconda, face a little paler making a bruise on his lip stand out more.

Again?

Alfred tested a smile but flinched at the hardened stare he received. "Hey," he muttered quickly and sat down, not even bothering to brush off the snow from the bench first. Arthur's eyes followed him but he didn't say anything. Alfred pretended like he didn't notice Arthur's intent stare and stretched his arms passively.

"It's colder today," he sniffed, rubbing his gloveless hands together. Arthur didn't blink, wondering where the boy's gloves were. He always wore gloves.

"I lost my wallet again and can't find it. It's really been bothering me. I can't really leave my house without it since it has my id and money and stuff," Alfred grumbled. Arthur's eyes were drawn to Alfred's tongue darting out to run over the cut on his lip, moving along it in a soothing motion. Alfred pursed his lips for a long while before testing a glance in Arthur's direction. He looked at him somewhat self-consciously seeing that Arthur had never moved, not even once. "What?" he asked cautiously.

Arthur exhaled a harsh breath, frown lines pulling at his face. Alfred looked uncertain. "I know what you're going to say," he admitted. Arthur didn't even bat an eyelash. "But it's really not a big problem. You'd understand if you were there. I was helping my friend out."

Arthur finally managed to find his voice. "Oh?"

Alfred twitched lightly at the incredulous and insensitive tone of Arthur's voice. Why did he have to be so unlike the other adults in his life and give him that look? Why couldn't he be like his teachers and neighbors and just silently pretend they didn't notice anything? Why did Arthur have to make this whole situation way more awkward than it needed to be?

"Yeah. He was – remember when I said his mom was going away?" Alfred paused, throat closing slightly as he tugged at his beanie. "Well she left."

Arthur frowned, taking in the insinuation. Alfred bit at his sore lip and winced, nose crinkling distastefully. "And she left with his brother. My friend was really upset since he and his brother were really close. But he wasn't as upset as his dad was when she sprung the news on him. My friend and I had to try and calm him down so he wouldn't do anything stupid. I got clocked by accident," Alfred said, voice cracking with quiet laughter.

Arthur continued to stare making Alfred nervous. "Can we just forget about it? My friends already gave me hell as it is," he joked, leaning back against the bench.

Arthur continued to stare for a long while before moving forward, close enough so that Alfred was surprised by the warmth near his body. Arthur carefully reached his hand out, not minding when Alfred flinched, as he placed his fingers against Alfred's bruised lip. The American's breath still and his posture slackened. Arthur gingerly ran his fingers down before his lips peeled back from his teeth in a sneer.

In a matter of seconds, he ripped Alfred's hat from his head and narrowed his eyes. "I knew it," he grit out, even as Alfred jumped and put his arm up to hide his forehead. It was too late, though, for Alfred's bangs weren't enough to hide the deep gash along the skin.

Arthur sprung to his feet. "Arthur, wait," Alfred panicked, standing up as well but stumbled over his foot ungracefully. The sandy-blonde felt himself shaking upon seeing this. He hadn't seen anyone look so beat up since the times where he'd practically gotten into a fight every night he went to a bar and got plastered. It seemed much different on Alfred's face though; youthful complexion marred by an act of violence.

He didn't even want to know what Alfred was hiding under the scarf.

"I suppose your friend was beaten on 'accident' as well?" Arthur implied derisively. Alfred peered at him with large eyes, unsure exactly of what to say. Arthur shook his head and scoffed. "What the hell is this?"

"It's nothing," Alfred said, quickly putting his hat back on and glancing at the people walking by in paranoia. "Just got in a small fight."

Arthur wanted to laugh but couldn't manage it. "That is not from a schoolmate, Alfred. You're in a situation that far supersedes anything a classmate could do."

Alfred fidgeted and worried at his lip. Alfred's silence just added fuel to the fire. Arthur balked in disbelief. "I'm not even sure if you're aware of how serious this is. You probably treat it like a little game or something," Arthur said in disgust.

"You're wrong," Alfred defended. "I don't think it's a game. It's not fun. You're stupid if you think I think it's fun."

Arthur huffed, fingers curled into his palms as he watched Alfred shake his head. He knew it. He had gone too deep; he had become too accustomed to Alfred's presence. He had gone far farther than just strangers. He knew he was in uncharted waters when he started to actually care for Alfred.

"I'm calling the authorities."

He didn't know that it was possible for someone's eyes to widen that far, but Alfred managed to do it. The remaining color drained from his face as Alfred blanched, looking absolutely shocked. "What?"

Arthur looked away, rummaging through his coat to find his cell phone when two hands clung onto him with a painfully tight grip. Arthur recoiled and looked at Alfred in disbelief as the boy shook his head desperately. "No. You're not calling the cops, Arthur. Do you know what would happen if you called the cops? You don't honestly think that everything would get better from getting people like the police involved, do you?"

Arthur didn't even waver under Alfred's pleading eyes. Alfred took in a shuddering breath and straightened in horror. He didn't know what he saw exactly underneath the anger in Arthur's eyes, but at that very moment, Alfred knew what Arthur's career was. It was as plain as day; right as rain.

He let out a lone chuckle in disbelief. What were his odds that he befriended a lawyer?

"No matter what you say, lad, it won't help. You need legal help," Arthur reasoned harshly. Alfred quickly shook his head and clung onto the Briton with a bruising strength.

"Please, Arthur. Don't call anyone. Just leave it alone."

Arthur tried to wretch himself out of Alfred's hold but found himself unable to. He had severely underestimated how strong the boy was.

"I will not."

"Arthur–"

"Look at yourself!" Arthur shouted furiously. He reached to snatch Alfred's hat away again but Alfred ducked, clasping onto it quickly.

"Don't!" he protested with a frown. "Don't touch it."

Arthur let out a noise of disbelief before placing a hand to his forehead and looking away with an incredulous gawk. "I can't believe what I'm hearing," he muttered. Alfred frowned and clutched his hat carefully as he watched Arthur inwardly struggle.

"Please, Arthur," he tried again, softer, so people wouldn't be drawn to their little spat. "As a friend…"

Arthur's sharp eyes darted to Alfred in irritation. "I am not your friend," he denied. He almost felt guilty for the brief flash of hurt that zipped across Alfred's face in a wince.

"As someone who shares a bench with me," Alfred tried again. Arthur couldn't argue with that one. "Don't get involved."

Arthur remained silent a moment, hesitant fingers flexing over his cell phone. "Why do you even bother to come here?" he growled under his breath. "Why come here like that if you know that I would be angry. Any person in their right mind would be angry!"

Alfred shifted his feet and looked away shyly. "Nobody else I know."

This dawning singed Arthur almost painfully. He didn't know what was worse; Alfred's horrible life of abuse and detachment, or the fact that Alfred knew that only Arthur would react in such a way. Why was he reacting like this? Arthur wanted to vomit.

"If I ever see you again, I will not hesitate to inform the authorities," Arthur warned lowly. Alfred looked panicked once again, eyes seeking out Arthur's cold gaze in one quick movement. He understood exactly what Arthur was implying.

Their quiet getaway of peace and distance from reality was no longer there.

It was no longer their bench, but Arthur's once again.

Alfred seemed to hesitate, unhappy with that response, before nodding reluctantly. He awkwardly tugged at his navy blue beanie and wiped his nose against the sleeve of his jacket, before turning like a wounded animal and heading back the way he came. Arthur watched him go with great unwillingness, something inside of him urging for him to call out and reason with the blonde, but he resisted. It was that stupid urge that had gotten him into this mess in the first place.

No more. He would not allow himself to be involved with Alfred anymore.

He had already gotten his hands dirty thus far.

Arthur cursed loudly and kicked the bench with all his might.

It was no longer soothing and relaxing; the damned thing now only brought strain and anger.

Tuesday, December 21

The weather was terrible. Arthur frowned out the window of his office with his cheek in his palm, huffing. It matched his mood precisely.

He found his eyes dancing along the people below moving about on the sidewalk. They looked like ants from up here.

Arthur tapped his fingers restlessly against the wood of his desk, his neck feeling tighter than ever. He had a crick in his neck that wouldn't for the life of him go away. He considered hurling himself out the window. That would surely get rid of the crick, wouldn't it? And if he changed his mind at the last second, the soft snow would be there to catch him, right?

Snow was still soft after fifteen stories, wasn't it?

It had been a while since his little spat with Alfred, and Arthur was still impossibly upset. In any instance where he'd heard of any form of abuse, Arthur had never remembered reacting so strongly. That was proof enough that Alfred had wormed his way under his skin. He most certainly wasn't wanted there.

Arthur could barely manage thirty minutes a day for himself. If he and Alfred were to form any sort of relationship, it surely would end badly. He didn't have enough time.

No sleep.

No relaxing.

No talking.

It would be dreadful. Best to keep to himself and work himself into an early, lonely grave.

He silently wondered to himself about the blue bench in the park a few blocks away. Arthur had tried to sit there two days after he and Alfred parted, but found himself unable to relax. No gnomes or sweet magical creatures came to mind. Instead, he found his thoughts plagued with a distressed household, screaming parents, a beer bottle smashing into Alfred's forehead as he tried to keep his enraged father from killing his mother who was trying to sneak out with the quieter son.

The bench was ruined.

Arthur sighed to himself at the dark sky. It was really coming down out there. He silently glanced at the clock on his wall; it was time to take his refreshing thirty minutes.

Arthur begrudgingly got to his feet and slid his coat on. He blinked back his unfocussed eyes and stumbled a bit. Arthur grumbled to himself and pushed his way out the door, seeking out the elevator. He'd gotten less sleep than he ever had the past week, migraines abound.

As Arthur reached the bottom floor of his building, he ventured outside into the merciless onslaught of ice and slush. He trudged down the streets, gripping his coat tightly to his body as he winced at the bite of frost at his face. He pushed on, however, wanting nothing more than to eat up his free time and go back to work.

He slipped on a wet spot, catching himself on a woman in front of him with an apology. With a bit of embarrassment, Arthur crossed the street and walked down the familiar pathway he had taken for months. There were less people out due to the cold, but everything still looked familiar.

He rubbed his hands together and made his way towards that nostalgic dip to the side where a blue bench rested. He didn't know what possessed him to go back to the bench; he wasn't going to sit there. But Arthur soon realized that in that one random instance, he had made a smart choice.

Blinking curiously, trying to push the fuzz away from his tired eyes, Arthur looked up to see a figure huddled over on the snow piled bench, shivering like mad and rubbing their arms up and down to keep warm.

What were the odds?

Arthur's heart stuttered as he hesitantly made his way towards the bench, noticing that it was, in fact, Alfred as he approached. The boy didn't notice his presence at first. He was too lost in his own world to even recognize that someone was standing over him.

When Alfred finally looked up, blues eyes round with surprise, the American looked guilty. Arthur simply stared, wanting nothing more than to reach out and wipe away such a look from his face.

Alfred looked away, lips purple and nose and cheeks red, and faltered. "I-I know you said you didn't want to s-see me again…but," he paused, looking pained. "I don't have another spot. This is it for me. This – this is as good as it's going to get."

Arthur felt his teeth chattering from the cold as he watched Alfred shake. How long had he been sitting out here in the cold?

"I promise I'll leave. But can you just let me sit here for a little bit?" he requested.

Arthur frowned and shook his head. "No."

Alfred's face dropped and he curled down on himself, nodding. "O-okay," he said weakly. With quivering limbs, Alfred got to his feet and began to slip his backpack back on. But before he could turn to head back the usual direction he'd always come from, Arthur firmly clasped onto his wrist.

Alfred flinched, looking down to where an icy hand connected to even icier skin. "Arthur?" he asked, confused.

Arthur didn't bother saying anything as he shifted his body, turning to head back the way he came. Alfred stumbled but followed obediently. Extremely confused, but obediently.

"Where are you going?" Alfred asked when they drifted out of the park and back into the concrete jungle. Arthur just quickened his pace, already sick of the cold and Alfred's trembling voice. Alfred really needed his bench more than Arthur did, huh?

Pushing open the large doors, Arthur strolled into the lobby, walking into the elevator and dragging Alfred in. He didn't pay any attention to any curious eyes following him and his soaked body covered with snow, nor the fact that he hadn't let go of Alfred's wrist even all the while they were in the elevator.

The doors opened when he reached his floor and Arthur briskly stepped into the heated hallway and made for his office. Alfred looked around in wonder, never ever believing that Arthur would take him to his work. At least, he thought this was where Arthur worked.

When they finally made it into Arthur's office, the Briton shut the doors, spinning around to the stunned American and pressing his hands against Alfred's cheeks. Alfred winced, his face still sore from that night with his family, but let Arthur sternly examine his face.

He was nervous. Alfred still remembered Arthur's threat to call the police if he ever saw his face again.

Well he was examining his face now; that had to be worse. Alfred felt a pit of nerves bundle themselves in his stomach at the thought of Arthur making good use of his threat. He certainly seemed like he was the kind of person to follow through with things like that.

"Where's your gloves?" Arthur asked after a long while.

Alfred blinked stupidly. "Mattie has them."

Arthur hummed low in his throat before brushing Alfred's bangs aside to get a look at the ugly gash along his face. The Englishman scowled, still feeling that burning anger starting to nip at him. Arthur patted Alfred's cheek harshly and walked past him, ignoring Alfred's yelp.

"Sit down."

Alfred spun around to see Arthur peeling his wet coat from his shoulders and slinging it over the back of his chair. He then looked to see a chair on the other side of Arthur's desk. Not wanting to test the waters, Alfred sat down.

His skin burned from the warm air on his numb body. Hey, at least he wasn't cold anymore.

"You didn't bring me up here to trap me or something, did you?" Alfred asked suspiciously. He kept glancing towards the phone on the end of the desk. Arthur rolled his eyes and took a seat in his own chair.

"What is with kids and their constant paranoia with the police?"

"I blame the media."

Arthur rubbed at his eyes and resisted the urge to yawn. He needed some aspirin. Alfred craned his neck and sniffed when seeing Arthur's eye bags become more prominent.

"I see you're still not sleeping," mumbled Alfred. Arthur glared unappreciatively.

"I see you're still in an unfit home," he retaliated making Alfred hunker down into his shoulders. Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose before reaching in his bottom drawer and pulling out a bottle of scotch. He didn't care for Alfred's incredulous look when pouring himself a glass. He deserved one, damn it.

Wincing at the lovely burn down his throat, Arthur continued. "How long have you been going there?"

Alfred hesitated. "Couple days now."

"You went despite my warning?"

Alfred nodded. Arthur paused, resting his lips against his shot glass before setting it down. "That bad, huh?" Alfred didn't respond. He wasn't going to walk into that one. Arthur mentally applauded him stubbornness. Perhaps he would make a good attorney some day. He smiled to himself; no. The boy belonged in the clouds with the other astronauts.

"Are you going to do it?" Alfred asked after a moment.

Arthur knew what he was referring to, his eyes flickering over to his telephone. "Should I?"

Alfred quickly shook his head with a frown.

"Why not?" Arthur inquired, taking another sip from the bottle. Ah, the good stuff. "What do you have that's worth clinging onto? You said it yourself, your mother left and took your brother. You won't be seeing them again. All that's left is your boozer father. I can imagine he has a mighty impressive right hook."

Alfred pursed his lips and clicked his shoes together against the carpet.

Arthur paused. "Well? Go on, lad. I'm not going to bite. What are you so desperately wanting to keep?"

Alfred frowned indignantly up at Arthur. The Brit raised his eyebrow. "Well?"

Alfred chewed his bruised lip. "The bench," he reluctantly admitted, surprising Arthur.

"Pardon?"

Alfred sighed overdramatically. "The bench. I want the bench."

For once, Arthur wasn't sure what to think of this. Alfred was willing to endure such a terrible home life and horrible school life all for a lousy bench? Arthur scoffed. Yes, the bench was a lovely place, but only for a measly thirty minutes. After that, in comparison to not getting slapped in the face, a bench was nothing.

"Be serious," Arthur warned sternly.

"I am serious." Alfred glared, not liking the doubting gaze he was receiving.

"Why do you want that bench so badly? It's a stupid piece of frozen plastic."

"Because."

Arthur leaned across the desk with a frown, fingers curling over the telephone in a silent threat that made Alfred stiffen. "I'm not here to play games with you, Alfred."

With great disdain and an awful amount of fidgeting, Alfred finally blurted out with red cheeks, "It's the only thing I look forward to, okay!"

Arthur stilled. "What?"

A sigh. "It's the only thing I look forward to in the week. I hate everything else. If I got my own place or something then I wouldn't have an excuse to come back and see…" he couldn't finish his sentence, tongue feeling heavy. Arthur stared at the boy in disbelief at his admittance.

He wanted the bench as an excuse to see…him? Was that what he was implying?

Arthur Kirkland, known recluse and workaholic, was actually the highlight of someone's day and reason to live in a less than comfortable environment?

When had that happened?

Arthur fell back in his seat in shock, feeling just as awkward as the squirming male across from him did. What was he to say to that? He glanced towards the phone, then to Alfred, not sure how to respond. Despite the warmth flooding his chest and making his fingers and toes tingle, Arthur still didn't want Alfred to use that as an excuse.

He didn't want to be Alfred's excuse to deal with that nonsense.

Drat.

Wednesday, January 19

"So you're completely out now?"

Alfred sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Yes."

"You're not lying, are you?" Arthur asked, narrowing his eyes as he took a sip of his tea. Alfred groaned and ran his hands over his face.

"Dude, quit asking me. I'm out. All the boxes are gone. Presto chango; I'm no longer a two hour subway trip away. Happy now?"

Arthur simply looked away blankly, not willing himself to vocally voice his relief. It had taken a lot of persuasion, something he was quite good at, to talk Alfred into moving out of his father's house. Since Alfred was nineteen and a legal adult, he was legally allowed to find his own place; a place where he didn't have to duck when someone got too angry.

Alfred was still unhappy about Arthur paying his rent, but he assured the American that it would all stop once Alfred found himself a job. At least this way, the boy was forced to take initiative and school seriously. If it was the last thing he did, Arthur would make the boy the best astronaut in the history of mankind.

"Did you seriously have to mention to my dad that you were my legal counsel? I'm pretty sure he woulda still let me go without you saying that. He got kinda freaked out," Alfred grumbled into his coffee cup. He watched two women walk by with slight interest as they laughed with each other.

"Serves him right," Arthur muttered into the edge of his cup.

Alfred kicked at a pile of snow, revealing the grass that patiently waited to bloom once more below the frosted ice. Arthur glanced over at Alfred and regarded him with subdued interest.

"Whatever happened to your friend?" he asked after a moment.

Alfred blinked and looked up from over his warm cup. "Who?"

"Your friend with the horrible life. How is he doing now?" Arthur asked, placing his cold hand against the blue plastic beneath him. Alfred paused, glancing down at Arthur's hand before grinning and placing his own above it. Arthur curled his fingers at the feeling of the glove warming his skin.

"He's never been better."

Arthur let his eyes linger, feeling as though he was drowning in the two pools of warm blue. He looked away coolly with a slight tinge to his cheeks, seeming satisfied with that answer.

"That's good to hear."

Alfred laughed and leaned back into the bench, taking a large gulp of his coffee and finishing it off. A muffled beeping reached his ears as he glanced over to see Arthur look at his watch. He sighed and stood up, Alfred watching him curiously.

"Gotta go already?"

Arthur frowned. "Two hours is long enough, Alfred. I don't have all day to dawdle like you do." He paused. "Which you shouldn't be doing. Get off your arse and look for a job already. What am I, made of money?"

Alfred sighed and got to his feet as well, reaching in his pocket and popping a piece of cinnamon gum into his mouth. "Yeah, yeah. Shut up already."

Arthur scowled and turned to head back towards his building when he stopped. "You coming?"

Alfred hesitated before waving Arthur away. "I'll be with you in a minute."

Arthur shrugged indifferently and continued down the pathway back towards the buildings. When he was a good distance away, Alfred turned his attention back to the bench and took out a black pen. Leaning over, he scrawled his name right next to Arthur's label, the sticker with Arthur's name on it still stuck to the bench like glue.

Alfred leaned back to admire his work, grinning sheepishly to himself before capping the pen and following after Arthur.

It may have been stupid, but it was more than just a park bench to him.

It was his favorite spot in the world.