Alfred stared out the window. It rained, again. He couldn't tell the days apart - every morning, the sky was clouded and the world swept in grey. He would lose his mind if it wasn't for the clock on the wall. It reminded him that time did pass, even if nothing happened between the moment he stepped out of bed until he crawled beneath the duvet. It was dull. 'But I guess it's the same for everyone,' he thought and glanced back at Gilbert.

He was sat on the floor, controller in hand and his tongue stuck out in concentration as he raced a car around a track. He swayed to the right as the car did, but his concentration broke when he caught Alfred's eyes on him. "What?" he asked, his gaze flickering between him and the telly.

"Just watching the game."

"More like, just watching the gamer." Gilbert grinned, "Do you like me, or my skills?"

"Neither," Alfred grimaced and slipped down the sill. He sat next to Gilbert and leaned up against the bed. He feigned interest in the game, "You're good."

"Fuck off, I lost the last three rounds. You've been too busy stargazing to realise."

Alfred flustered, "I wasn't counting stars."

"What then, looking for a shooting one? Have a wish to come true?"

"If you don't watch the screen, you'll lose a fourth round."

"A little dream of Betty confessing her love?" Gilbert prodded, the smile on his face sinking deeper, "or a dream of... someone else?"

"No dreams whatsoever," Alfred said and, as GAME OVER popped up on the screen, grabbed the controller and started a new round.

Gilbert raised his brows and turned to face him better. "No dreams?" he repeated, and he leaned in to catch his eyes.

Alfred made sure not to look at him. "No dreams," he confirmed.

No dreams, no headaches, no nothing. The doctors warned of side-effects. They said, "You may feel dizzy and nauseated, and you could experience hallucinations," which was just great, because immediately Alfred imagined angels dancing around his bathroom as he clung on to the toilet seat, retching. But not even any of that came true. Since the night he almost jumped, everything had been normal. At least he thought so, he couldn't exactly pinpoint what normal was anymore. The doctors had an explanation for that as well.

"You've been under a lot of stress," the woman spoke as she wrote out the prescription. "Your body will need time to calm down and realise what it's like to feel at ease."

'It has been weeks,' Alfred thought, and he glared out the window again. The rain pecked the glass, then slipped down in streams. 'But I'm not at ease.'

His mom was happy. "It's good you're finally getting sleep," she said, although his eyelids always drooped as had he been up all night staring at the computer screen. Betty too rekindled her hope. She texted him quotes of encouragement, and kept calling to ask when he would be in school next. Alfred waved her off, the excuses were plentiful, like,

"I'm feeling sickly," or, "I need some space," or, "the doctor said-" which always worked because who could argue with a MD?

Alfred knew he had to face them eventually. He wasn't sick, not since they medicated him. He was just restless.

"Alfred." Gilbert spoke, and Alfred snapped his head back to look at his friend. "Are you okay?"

"Sure. Why?"

Gilbert pointed to the screen. It was turning itself off due to inactivity. The counter had dropped from five minutes to three.

Alfred put down the controller and shook his head. "Sorry, I-"

"Feel unwell? Can't be bothered?" Gilbert cocked his head. "I'm not Betty, you know, I do know you. I've known you for years. This isn't normal."

"They say the medicine will make me normal."

"Yeah, 'cause when I go home, I sit and stare out the window all day and say, wow, this is fucking great, there isn't a think I'd rather do!" His sarcasm was glaring.

Alfred gritted his teeth and threw out his arms, "Well, they say-!"

"They say!" Gilbert's laugh was humourless. There was a fight in his eyes as he got off the floor and started pacing around. His voice was a whine, "But Gilbert, they say I have to sit down and be a good boy and take my pills and count my blessings, and they know best." He swirled around and pointed a finger at him. "But what do you say, Al?"

Alfred wished he had the headaches. They would be easier to deal with than Gilbert. He rubbed the back of his head. "What do you mean, what do I say? What are you on about?"

"Were you ill? Are you ill?" he asked.

Alfred shrugged. "I guess? Am I?" The question was ridiculous, so he posed it back at him. He felt he was being prosecuted, and it got his blood boiling. "I mean, you know me, man, I just love staying home all day, doing shit all, that's right, that's me, Alfred Jones, you've got me pinned right down there."

The mockery wasn't lost on Gilbert. His face scrounged up, and Alfred knew he was about to go off on him. Then he reached for the cigarettes on the nightstand, grabbed two out of the pack and lit them. He handed Alfred one.

He took it with hesitation and had a drag, his eyes never leaving Gilbert.

"Did you see him?" Gilbert's voice was calm. He smoked his cigarette and sat down on the edge of Alfred's bed.

Alfred lowered his smoke. He could lie, but what was the point. "I did," he said.

"Was he real?"

"He was to me."

"-or was it all in your head?"

Alfred started, "Well, they said-" but he stopped. He looked up at Gilbert. His friend was smiling, so he smiled, and soon they broke out in laughter. "I can't get used to thinking for myself!"

"Now you're starting to sound normal."

"It's all a mess in my head," Alfred said as they'd both stopped laughing. "It still seems so real. The conversations we had, and the things we did. But if he was real - he was evil, right? To get me to jump, that's evil."

Gilbert had a long, quiet drag of his smoke. "Are people evil, or misguided?" he asked. He walked to the window, opened it, and shook his ashes out into the wind. "I don't know," he replied himself. "I guess he was evil."

Alfred too stood up. He walked to the window and dropped his smoke out of it. "He's gone," he said, grabbed the hatch, and shut it closed.

Friday rolled around and so, inevitably, did his mom's question:

"Do you want to come along?"

Alfred jumped in the car and his mom turned the ignition on. She hummed, turned on the radio, and hummed louder. The music deafened him, but he could still hear the rain drum on the roof. Sounds surrounded him, and he pulled up his hood to soften the blow. He needed to concentrate and prepare. This was the first time in a while he would see Matthew.

The incident wasn't mentioned. His dad served them dinner and chatted about the weather. His mom commented on the new dining table in the living room. She didn't speak of the family portrait, but Alfred saw it, and he saw the new woman in the photo.

"We are all doing so much better, aren't we?" his dad said to no one in particular and handed Matthew the bowl of potatoes. He stared at Alfred, awaiting a response.

Alfred felt compelled to reply, "Oh, yeah, wonderful." He expected a reprisal, but his mom just laughed.

"Teenagers!" she chirped, and his dad laughed too.

Matthew seemed odd. Alfred thought he might've been thinking of the last time they met, in the streets, and he shouted about green eyes and evil intentions. But as he turned to face him, he smiled, "Potatoes?" and nothing else.

Alfred accepted the bowl. "How are you doing?" he asked.

"Better than you, it seems," Matthew replied and forked a slice of ham.

"How do you know?"

"You wouldn't spend time with me if you were well."

"Maybe I love my brother?"

Matthew smiled sweetly. "Maybe in your busy life, you forget I exist. I suspect you've got no projects on your hands?" Alfred couldn't reply something witty, so he chose not to reply at all. Matthew laughed, "I thought so."

Alfred didn't know what to do with his hands. He fumbled with the cutlery. "I thought you wanted me alive," he said. "Guess I was mistaken?"

"I wanted you alive," Matthew hissed, "but what's the point when you're dead inside?"

Alfred glanced around, but their parents didn't seem to take notice. They were engaged in a conversation about whatever, and his mom's eyes were completely focussed on his dad's as they shared, well, whatever.

Alfred looked back at his brother. "I'm not dead inside."

"Maybe he was right," Matthew pondered out loud. "Maybe you did already kill yourself, metaphorically as well."

Alfred felt cold. He didn't dare to ask, yet he somehow managed to. "Who's he?" He wanted to sound strong and deliver the question as a demand. His voice came out as a shiver.

"You know," Matthew said, "Arthur!"

Alfred jumped up. The table shook as he smacked his hands onto it. "Did you see him too?" he asked and leaned closer to Matthew. "He wasn't just in my head, in your head - you saw him?"

"Alfred, what's going on!" his mom pleaded.

"Did he tell you everything? What do you know?" Alfred asked, while Matthew just stared back at him. He hammered his hands to the table once more.

"Alfred!"

"Tell me! Am I mad, or not!"

"Look in my room," Matthew suggested.

Alfred swallowed. He looked at his parents - his mom now standing, his dad still seated in disbelief - and he looked at Matthew's innocent, blank face, and then he turned and ran up the stairs. He opened every door in the hall, not knowing which one would lead to his room, and right at the end he found it.

"I'll be damned..."

The room was full of feathers. Long, white, soft feathers which seemed to fall from nowhere, more and more of them, like snow. They were everywhere. On the bed. On the table. On lamps, carpet, bookshelves.

Alfred held out his hand, and one fell into the palm of it. He closed his fingers around it, careful not to damage it, and knew it was no fake. He closed his eyes. "Am I mad or not?" he whispered.

When he looked again, his mom stood beside him, gazing into the featherless room. "What's going on with you?" she asked and shook her head.

Alfred could see the pain in her eyes, and he had no words to sooth it. "I want to go home," was all he could say, and she nodded and led the way downstairs again. They passed Matthew who was on his way up, and for a moment their hands brushed. As Alfred looked, he saw a feather in his brother's grip.

At home, Alfred couldn't concentrate on anything but his memories. The feathers. The headaches. The dreams. How Arthur spoke with him, laughed with him, held his hand, kissed him.

He walked around his room and groaned, "I must be more mad than I thought!" He caught the look of his own reflection in the window. He hesitated, but an idea had already prodded its way into his mind, and he couldn't let go of it.

He hurried over, opened the window wide, and crawled up onto the sill. Then another thought caught him, 'Mom!', and he hurried over to his door and calmly opened it. He tip-toed across the landing, leaned over the bannister, and peered toward the living room. She was in the sofa, watching television rather loudly while sipping a glass of wine. She wouldn't pay much attention, he decided.

Closing the door, he walked back to the window and crawled onto the sill. He leaned out into the cool evening air and took in a deep breath. The light rain covered his skin, but it only made him more determined. He tried to recall how it was last time. He held tightly onto the sides of the window and swayed along with the breeze. He closed his eyes and cleared his throat.

"Arthur," he said, and nothing happened. He cleared his throat again. "Arthur, I'm here, I'm ready. Just tell me to do it!" Still nothing happened.

Alfred opened his eyes and looked over his shoulder. He half expected to see him standing there, or at least a feather or something, but everything was like before.

He reddened and raised his voice, "Arthur, show me I'm not mad! I'm here, in the window, so show yourself!" He let go with one of his hands and forced a tract at his lips. "Arthur Kirkland, it's Alfred Jones calling, earth to Arthur!"

The shout caused him off-guard and he almost fell, "You're crazy, dude!" A random drunk waved at him from across the street and laughed.

Alfred waved back at him, awkwardly, and then crawled back into his room. He shut the window and sat down on his bed.

"He doesn't exist," he said, as if his own voice could convince him. "He never existed. He was my imagination. Matthew's mad, of course he would've heard the story, he's just messing with me. We're both mad. Arthur doesn't exist."

Hearing the words out loud clicked something in Alfred. His nose dripped, then his eyes, and before he knew to stop it, his cheeks were wet with tears. "Stop crying!" he demanded, but it just agitated his eyes further. He grabbed his duvet and rolled himself up, pushed his face to the pillow, and waited for it to stop.

"Three days left."

Alfred lifted his head and blinked. His room was bright. As he sat up and looked at the clock, he realised it was barely six in the morning, but sun was shining through his window. "I never pulled the blinds," he realised.

Sometime during the night, the rain stopped. As Alfred looked outside, he could see the puddles on the road dwindling away in the heat. It made him smile. For the first time in ages, he felt awake. His eyelids didn't droop, and his stomach growled. He took a quick shower and then walked downstairs for breakfast.

He was making scrambled egg as his mom peered into the kitchen, her eyes wide and confused and her hair a morning mess. "You're cooking?" she asked.

"Negative," he answered, "I'm just burning things."

"I guess you're feeling better?" She leaned up against the doorway and smiled.

Alfred smiled back at her as he served himself a plate of egg and bacon on toast. "I guess I am," he nodded. He wasn't sure why, but something in him made him say, "I'm going to school Monday." As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew it had to be so.

Her smile faltered. "Monday? Isn't that a bit soon?"

"Why? The doctors said I need to challenge myself. Going back to school seems right."

"Yeah, but..." She watched him eat his breakfast and then sighed. "I guess it can't be helped."

It was as if now he'd started, he couldn't stop. Something else popped to his head, "I'm going to Betty's today. I want to patch things up."

"Oh? That's awfully gallant of you."

"I'm a changed man," Alfred said and winked, and he felt it.

She laughed, "If you pull any more surprises on me, I may need to lay down!"

Alfred licked his plate clean and dropped it in the sink. "Well, better leave you the washing then, before you get a heart attack." He let her peck his cheek on his way out, popped on a pair of trainers and grabbed his jacket.

He wasn't sure if Betty was going to be home, but he wanted to give it a shot. If he was to get better, he had to start at the beginning. With no cash for a bus, he walked, and half an hour later he found himself on her street. The clock had barely turned half past seven when he pressed the doorbell and stepped back to wait.

Betty's dad opened the door. He was a skinny man with glasses which doubled the size of his eyes, and he couldn't hide the surprise in them when he saw Alfred. "Oh, Alfred, it's been a while," he said.

"I'm sorry if I woke you up," Alfred said, "I know it's early. I just really need to speak to Betty."

"Does she know you're coming over?" he asked, and when Alfred shook his head, he huffed. "Well, you better wait in the kitchen, I'll check if she's awake. Have a cup of coffee if you want to."

Alfred thanked him and sat down in the kitchen until he returned ten minutes later and gestured him in the direction of Betty's room. As Alfred entered, he found her flustered on a newly made bed. She was wearing jeans and a tee, and her makeup had been done quickly.

"If I knew you were coming, I would've made an effort," she said and ran her fingers through her unruly hair.

Alfred shook his head, "No matter, I just felt we needed to chat."

Either Betty knew the story, or she didn't want to know, because every time Alfred tried to brush upon the subject of his hallucinations, she changed the topic. He sat next to her on the bed, holding her hand while she told him of everything that had been going on in the past weeks. He learned of broken relationships and mended ones and completely new ones, of fights - of course, some of them included Gilbert - who got what grade on that one test. Just the important things.

He smiled and nodded along, feigning interest when needed, but inside, he felt annoyed. Why wouldn't she just listen to him and let him speak? Did she not care? He was chewing on his tongue when she finally turned and posed him a question,

"So where do you want to go?"

Alfred blinked, at loss. "Sorry?"

Betty rolled her eyes. "Are you listening? I said, we need to show them that nothing is different. Gilbert is in on it. Ivan is in on it. I can get some of the girls. Just, where do you want to go?"

Alfred still didn't know what to answer. "Wait, what do you mean when you say, nothing is different? Who do we need to show?"

Betty clucked her tongue. "You really weren't listening. Everyone's scared, Alfred, they think you're... I don't know." She shook her head, but Alfred had a feeling she knew exactly what everyone seemed to think. "They need to see you're just like before, normal, a great guy. Not some freak who sees things."

Alfred let go of her hand and looked away. 'It doesn't matter what I tell myself, they already deem me mad,' he thought.

"Oh don't be upset with me, I don't think you're a freak, it's their words," Betty blabbered, assured Alfred was irritated with her. He was, but for a different reason, and he swallowed his emotions and smiled at her.

"It's okay," he assured her and pulled out his mobile. "What about going to the aquarium? I haven't been for ages."

"Brilliant," Betty nodded and pulled out her phone as well. "Let's see, when do classes end..."

Alfred clicked on his own calendar and hesitated. His normal schedule was there - he'd put in all his classes, their start and end, and that was as always. Maths in the morning, biology in the afternoon. But a separate event had been created for the evening already. Movie.

"I'm going to the cinema?" Alfred mumbled.

Betty's head snapped up." Cinema? Even better! There's this new movie out-"

As she chatted, Alfred stared at the event. 'I don't remember making plans with anyone,' he thought. He tried to click and see details, but it wouldn't let him. Annoyed, he deleted the event and made a new one. He named it Date, and it made Betty smile when she saw it.

"I can't wait," she said, and Alfred pocketed his phone and smiled.

"Me neither."

"Two days left."

This time, Alfred was sure he heard a voice.

He sat up in bed and looked around, but there was no one in his room. He rubbed his forehead and groaned. "Do normal people wake up like this?" he asked. Of course, there was no answer his question.

The time was like the day before, barely six in the morning. He grabbed his mobile and walked downstairs to the kitchen, checking to see if Gilbert had replied about going out Monday. That's when he got an alert from his calendar, and a message popped up to remind him of his movie night. Alfred smiled and put the phone down to pour a glass of juice, but quickly retrieved the mobile when he realised what it had said.

"Movie night?" he mumbled.

Alfred checked, and surely the Date event was gone and had been replaced with Movie. He grimaced and flipped through the weeks to see if he'd set the date wrong, but the event was nowhere to be seen. Someone had been messing around with his phone.

"I said, no," he told the phone, deleting the event and setting up a new one. He locked his phone, opened it again, and made sure nothing had changed. It hadn't.

His mom came down the stairs, yawning. "Were you speaking to me?" she asked.

"No, it was nothing," Alfred replied and poured a glass of juice. "But I think I need a new phone."

"One day left."

"How sweet."

Alfred laughed as he approached school. By the gate, Betty, Gilbert, Ivan and Kiku stood, holding a banner between them. As they saw him, they stretched it out and started tooting. It read, Welcome Back. Other students passed by and some stopped and stared, and Alfred felt himself go red.

"He's blushing!" Gilbert shouted, and Ivan laughed.

"I hope I didn't embarrass you too much," Betty smiled and pecked his cheek as he joined them.

He put his arm around her shoulder and shook his head. "Nothing is more embarrassing that being friends with you guys."

"Thanks a lot."

Alfred smiled as they each walked to their classes. He should feel overjoyed. He had been looking forward to this moment all weekend. Coming back, seeing everyone, feeling like one of the guys again. Not just hanging around at home moping all day.

But his uneasiness had returned. The same dooming feeling which the doctors assured him would go away seemed settled in him like a permanent personality change. Everywhere he looked, he saw glimpses from his mad moments, and they intensified as they walked right past the bushes Arthur showed him that night. It replayed in his head, but he kept telling himself, 'It was not real, it was not real, it was not real.' Somehow, he made it past, and inside the building.

'I'm just put off because of my phone,' he assured himself as he settled behind Betty in class. Again this morning, he had awoken to the event Movie. The reminder wouldn't even turn off. It kept beeping, no matter how many times he tried deleting the event. In the end, he turned his phone off.

"Great to see you back, Alfred," the teacher spoke as she noticed him, and Alfred saluted her.

"I didn't want to miss any more of the excitement," he said, and the class snickered.

"Witty as always," she said, but she smiled. "Did you get time to brush up on your homework?"

"Doesn't matter if I did, I wouldn't have anyway."

"How refreshing to see you haven't changed." She turned to write on the blackboard, and Alfred leaned back in his chair, buzzing with satisfaction. He fitted right back in, and he thought that before long, these past weeks would be a long-gone memory.

Then his phone went off. At first, he didn't realise and looked around for the culprit, but soon everyone's eyes darted to his bag. The teacher turned back around and raised her brows. "Alfred?"

"Sorry, I was sure it was off," Alfred mumbled and stuck his hand into the bag. He pulled out his mobile and glared at the event. Movie.

'This is not right,' he thought, and Alfred felt sweat prickle at his skin. 'There is something going on.'

"I'm sure whatever's on that screen is very exciting, but unless you're going to read out loud, please turn it off."

Alfred switched off his phone and dropped it back into the bag. He turned around, red faced as everyone's eyes were once again on him, but he tried to play it off. "Sorry," he said, "just... another of my girls." The guys laughed, but Betty's eyes burned on him. He avoided her gaze and spent the rest of class focussed on the blackboard.

The water was cold on his face. Alfred dipped his whole head under the stream and breathed out.

"You look like shit."

Alfred had expected the voice, but he still jumped. He took his time make sure every inch of his face was soaking wet before pulling back out from under the tap. He glanced at Gilbert as he stood in the doorway to the loo, his face blank. "Funny, you said something similar to me not too long ago."

"Maybe you always look like shit?" he suggested and smiled.

Alfred grabbed some paper-towels and wiped himself off. He fumbled for his glasses, and Gilbert grabbed them off the sink and handed them to him. "Thanks."

"What's going on? I thought you came back because you felt better."

Alfred leaned up against the wall and looked at the crumbled paper in his hands. "I thought I was better. I woke up and was sure I was okay. I was so excited to just, you know, get back into routine. But here I am."

"Headaches?"

"No," Alfred shook his head and glanced toward the bathroom stall. He thought he heard a noise. 'Something worse than headaches.'

"If you need me to get the nurse-..." Gilbert let the offer hang in the air. He glanced in the direction Alfred was looking. "Someone in there?"

"I don't know," Alfred replied honestly. Bang. There it was again. He looked at Gilbert, but his friend didn't seem to have heard anything. Still, as he caught Alfred's gaze, he stepped in between the cubicles and started opening them, one by one.

As he came closer to the last, Alfred's heartbeat started picking up. The last stall, the bully stall, the one he found a feather in. 'Perhaps Gilbert will find one too,' he thought, and for a moment, he wasn't sure whether to hope that would be true so that maybe he could believe him, or if it was better to find nothing at all. As his hand rested on the handle, Alfred breathed, "Wait," but Gilbert had already pushed the door open.

From the angle he stood, Alfred couldn't see anything. Gilbert's body shadowed the toilet. As the seconds passed, his heart beat so fast he was sure it was going to break his ribs. But then his friend stepped aside to reveal an empty stall. "No one," he said. He too must have felt the tense mood, because he winked at Alfred as he closed the door again. "Your secret is safe with me, officer."

"Get lost," Alfred said, but there was laughter in his voice.

"Well, I'll see you later," Gilbert said and strolled out the bathroom. He heard his voice as he called back at him. "Remember, cinema tonight!"

"Right, movies," Alfred mumbled and immediately grimaced at that word. Bang. His head snapped back to the stall. He was certain he heard it this time. He peeked into the hallway, but Gilbert was already gone. It was just him.

'There's no one in there, you saw it yourself,' he thought, but he felt sick to his stomach. As he slowly approached the stall, he remembered the ninth feather. How it fell through the air. Just like the ones at Matthew's. 'It was all in my head,' he thought, then out loud, "It was all in my head." He grabbed the handle and pushed the stall open.

Arthur looked up at him. He stood in front of him, clear as day, with blood dripping from his lips and his left eye beat black. Alfred choked on his breath as he looked into his green eyes. Then he slammed the door shut with a scream.

In his haste to back away, he slipped on the floor and hammered onto his back. As he lifted himself back up, the door, due to his sheer force, bounced back off the metal frame and reopened, and revealed an empty stall.

For a second, Alfred just stared. Then he scrambled off the floor and ran.

The hallways seemed endless. He didn't know where to go. Everywhere was empty. One class had ended and another just begun. Alfred tried to remember his schedule, but in his shock, found himself unable to. He fumbled in his pocket for his phone, withdrew it, and was welcomed by a pop-up event. Movie.

"Fuck you!" he shouted and smashed the phone to the floor. The pieces flew across the carpet, and he leaned up against the wall, gasping for air. That's when he heard talking.

"The break is over."

"No, no, let's pretend it's not."

With laughter, "Arthur..."

"That's my voice," Alfred mumbled and his eyes widened. He glanced around for the source of the chatting, and he saw a door standing ajar. As he approached it, the voices grew louder.

"Still up for movies tonight, right? It'll be fucking great!"

"Don't say fucking. Yeah, movies."

'Movies,' Alfred thought and looked at the mobile pieces.

"Cool. Watch out for yourself, right? Take the bus home. There's lots of people."

"Off you go. Don't worry. Go to class."

Alfred heard someone move across the classroom floor. He was right next to the door now and saw it move slightly as someone grabbed the handle from the inside. He knew who it was. He knew what he was going to see if he looked around the edge of the door, if he dared to peer into the classroom. But he kept telling himself, 'This is a dream, this is a dream, this is a dream.'

"Al!" the voice called, and Alfred pressed his chin to the wall and closed his eyes.

"Yea?" his voice replied, but from inside the room.

"I am not scared. Because in the end... it's just going to be you and me, right?"

The door opened. "Of course," the voice replied, and Alfred whispered along it, from out here just like he spoke from in there,

"Just you and me."

Then he saw himself. He saw himself walk out of the classroom and past him. His other self seemed to glance at him, but he made no move, and there was no sign of recognition in his face. He walked on - further, past the toilets and toward the stairs. And Alfred, despite his legs shaking and his eyes filling with tears, followed, confused and scared and upset all at once. He stumbled alongside the wall and just reached the stairs in time to see two guys turn the corner and walk past the other Alfred.

They were grinning, "Al! Hey. Have you seen Arthur around?"

"Leave him alone."

"He's gay, you know?"

"I don't know," the other Alfred insisted, "Just leave him alone."

"I think he's up here."

The guys brushed past him, and Alfred watched them enter the classroom and shut the door. As he turned back, he saw the other Alfred looking in the same direction. 'Why aren't you following them?' he wanted to shout. 'Why aren't you doing anything!'

"Mr Jones, you're not skipping class again!" Alfred took a step down the stairs and saw his biology teacher standing at the end. For a moment, he was sure she was talking to the other Alfred - she was just another figment of his imagination. "To class, now," she demanded. And then Betty showed up behind her.

"Alfred, are you coming?" she asked, and the other Alfred walked down the stairs, past the teacher, past Betty, and straight into the classroom. But they still stood looking at him.

"You're talking to me?" Alfred said, surprised.

"I don't see anyone else," the teacher said and crossed her arms.

Betty wrinkled her brows. "Are you okay?" she asked, and he could read the concern in her eyes.

He took one more step down the stairs.

"Have you been crying?" she asked, and now even the teacher looked doubtful.

Alfred raised his hand to his cheek and felt the tears. "I..." he mumbled, unsure. "I..."

"Oh, Alfred," Betty moaned and moved to walk the stairs, but Alfred shook his head at her and backed away.

He climbed the steps backwards. "I'm sorry," he said, and stumbled on the last step. He turned in time to catch himself on his hands, and stood back up. For some reason, his legs didn't shake anymore. His vision wasn't blurred. For some reason, he thought clearly for the first time in weeks. For the first time since Arthur disappeared.

"I'm sorry," he spoke, his voice strong this time, "but I have to do something I should've done..." he laughed in disbelief, "I should've done three lifetimes ago."

Just like that, he turned and ran down the hallway. He heard Betty shout for him, but he kept running. The pieces of his mobile crunched under his shoes. His glasses started slipping off his nose. As he reached the door, he found it locked, but he didn't take a second to think. He stepped back, then hammered into it with his shoulder, breaking the lock and making it swing open.

Arthur - one eye black and his lips caked with blood - was being forced through the open window by the guys. They didn't see him. Perhaps he didn't even exist in their world. But Arthur saw him, and their eyes locked as he let go of the window and fell.

Alfred ran. He pushed through the tables and turned over chairs, and he had to jump not to stumble between the metal legs poking up everywhere in the mess he was creating. His knee got bruised, and something smacked onto his right arm. But in the moment, all he could focus on was Arthur's disappearing body. Like in slowmotion, the two guys stepped aside, one on each side of the window, and Alfred plunged right through the opening, one arm stretched, one hand secured around the frame.

His fingers closed around Arthur's wrist, and his body stopped dropping. He hung in the air, held by Alfred, and he looked up at him, reached up to close both hands around his arm, and he smiled,

"You finally saved me."

It took every bit of strength in him, but Alfred pulled him inside. Arthur stumbled onto the floor, but no sooner had he found his balance before he threw himself at Alfred. His arms wrapped around him, and he pressed his nose into his hair and laughed and cried at once.

Alfred held him, his eyes staring at nothing, as he tried to comprehend what was going on.

"How..." he asked. "How could you save me? How are we alive?" Arthur asked through his wailing.

"I don't-" Alfred started to speak, but as he hugged Arthur and smelt him, felt him, he somehow knew. He closed his eyes and smiled. "Are people evil, or misguided?" he mumbled.

Arthur pulled back to look him in the eyes. "What?"

Alfred wiped off his own tears before wiping Arthur's cheeks. "I didn't have to die," he said, "as long as you didn't."

"So is it true? Are we alive? Am... am I alive?" Arthur asked.

"I think so?" Alfred slid his hands down Arthur's cheeks, his shoulders, his arms, to his hands. Their fingers intertwined. "You seem real."

"I've seemed real before," Arthur reminded him.

"Only one way to find out."

Everything was the same, and everything was different. As they walked out into the hallway, there were no mobile pieces on the floor, and as they walked down the hallway, they met no one - no guys, no teacher, no Betty. Rather, they heard lively chatter from the biology classroom.

They stopped outside the door, and Alfred touched the handle. He looked back at Arthur who nodded. The door slipped open. The chatter stopped.

The teacher turned toward them. "Ah, Mr Jones, how nice of you to finally join." Alfred stepped inside, and Arthur followed slightly behind, his hand still in his. The teacher looked away but as no one sat down, she looked back at them. And she spoke, "Will you be joining us too, Mr Kirkland?"

Alfred didn't have to look to know his excitement. His fingers squeezed his so much it hurt. It was a good kind of pain, he decided.

"If I may," he said, his voice quiet.

"See if you can detangle yourself and have a seat. There appears to be an empty chair."

Alfred looked across the class and there, where Betty should be sitting, was an empty table and an empty chair. There were no signs of her - no bag, no jacket, nothing.

They slowly walked down the aisle of tables and sat down, Arthur in front, Alfred in back, and he was so bewildered, looking at how Arthur blushed and sat straight, eyed by everyone, that it took him a while to notice his mobile on the table.

An event popped up. Alfred checked. Movie. He looked at the back of Arthur's head and smiled, 'Just you and me.'

Author note: Does "Sorry for the wait!" mean anything when it's been five years? Anyway, I couldn't leave it unfinished. Every year, I would try to make this last chapter, and every year, I would give up. After a while, nothing suffices. It was difficult, my style has changed a lot, but I tried to reread the story and stay somewhat true to who I used to be. The storyline is unchanged as well - this was what I planned, so it's what I wrote. I know things won't be perfect, rather far from it, so forgive me. This is just as much for my own peace of mind.

If you used to read this and returned for the ending, thank you! If you're new - apologies for the mess, this sudden change in writing style was hopefully not too off putting! As always, I'm Buttermyfish on Tumblr - and definitely more active there than here.