Arthur spent the first few weeks after chucking the bottle into the ocean in a constant state of nervousness. He couldn't help feeling foolish for doing it, yet hopeful that something wonderful would come of it. Although he knew it was highly unlikely that anyone would have found the bottle yet, Arthur waited patiently every Thursday from 4pm to 5pm at the café he had decided upon for a meeting spot. It would have been absurd for him to have put his home address; if anyone had ever come calling for him there, they might have been scared away by Arthur's brothers, or worse yet, Arthur might not be living there any more.

Months passed. Arthur spent each Thursday afternoon inside the café, waiting and nursing the cheapest cup of tea he could get just to avoid being kicked out. Every week when no one showed up to see him, Arthur would get more and more discouraged, but still he couldn't bring himself to give up on his wish. Eventually the owner of the café started trying to talk to Arthur, asking why he came in at the same time every week and what he was waiting for, where he was from, was he in school? Arthur wasn't forthcoming with much personal information, but he took a gradual liking to the owner, enough that when he was offered a job at the café, he took it gladly, provided he got off by 4pm on Thursdays.

A year later Arthur was making decent money. The customers seemed to like him well enough that he made a good amount in tips and his skill for making art in the foam of lattes and hot chocolates earned him a raise. His boss had fast learned not to let Arthur anywhere near the ovens, but any other tasks that needed doing were quickly and skilfully done.

Arthur never stopped waiting for someone to come for him. Even years later, when he had long since quit his job at the café and begun working in the university library, when he had saved enough money to get his own flat and go back to school, when he had been accepted for a paid internship at an editing company, when he was finally living a life close to what he had always wanted, Arthur never stopped spending his Thursday afternoons in the café. Over time it became less about his wish, and more of a habit. In his heart of hearts, he was hopeful, but his life had changed enough since his sixteenth birthday that sometimes he thought that the magic had already happened.

Still, it was Thursday, and there was no sense giving up on tradition.

"Here's your tea, Mr. Kirkland."

Arthur spared the pretty young waitress a smile, and fished a generous tip out of his wallet. It was no secret that she was sweet on him, but Arthur wasn't really interested. Dating and romance did not appeal to him beyond the drivel he read in his adult novels. Still, it wouldn't hurt him too badly to be nice.

"Thank you, Jenny. And please, call me Arthur."

Jenny tittered and flipped a hand through her long brunette ponytail. "Oh right, sorry. Well, let me know if you need anything else, Arthur."

Arthur dismissed her with another polite smile, took a sip of his tea, and then bent to pull a manuscript he was editing from his bag. He read for a few minutes and was just about to circle an egregious grammatical error when a shadow fell across his table.

"Excuse me, uh, Arthur? Arthur Kirkland?"

Arthur looked up the tall form to a face he didn't recognize. It was a young man, probably not much younger than Arthur was; Arthur was completely taken aback by the intensity with which this stranger was looking at him. He had a life and death expression on face, as if knowing whether or not Arthur was in fact Arthur Kirkland was the most important thing in the world.

"Yes? I- I'm sorry, but have we met before?" Arthur already knew the answer would be no. He didn't know any tall, intense, good-looking men with American accents.

"No! I mean, not really. Shit, I mean- I found this."

It took Arthur several moments to process the fact that this stranger had just placed a worn bottle before him. Arthur's brain short-circuited and sheer electricity raced down the surface of his body. His heart-rate skyrocketed and he found himself panicking to take a breath, mouth gaping, eyes shooting back and forth between the bottle and the stranger's face.

"Christ, that's… I can't… Who are you?"

The stranger flashed him a smile that managed to seem both excited and pitying.

"My name is Alfred F. Jones and I'm here to make your wish come true. Happy belated birthday!"

Alfred was forced to strike quite a bargain to accomplish his quest. His senior year of high school he finally told his parents he was planning on taking a year off to go to Europe. He didn't give them any of the details concerning Arthur Kirkland, but he told them that he had all the money he needed and he would go once he was eighteen whether they liked it or not, and he would go alone.

Naturally there was some shouting after that, but seeing as he would be a legal adult with his own funds, his parents had no choice but to allow it in the end. But there was a catch: Alfred could have his year in Europe if he promised to go into the military when he got back. His father had been particularly adamant that if Alfred ever expected to get any sort of support from the family again, he had better come back from his trip completely focused and obedient.

Alfred agreed. He wished that he didn't have to, but anything could happen in a year and he would need a place to fall back to if things didn't go the way he wanted with Arthur Kirkland.

He wasn't exactly sure what he wanted to happen. Well, optimally, he would find him and they would talk and then they would go on some crazy adventure and end up as best friends. Arthur would finally get his birthday wish and Alfred would feel good about himself for coming to his rescue. But there were a million other ways things could go. What if he never found Arthur? Or what if Arthur didn't trust him or even like him? Alfred laid awake in his bed for nights before his departure, rehearsing everything he could possibly say to Arthur Kirkland to make him understand why he was doing all of this.

The first week he was in London, Alfred couldn't muster up the courage to go to the address in the letter. When the designated time came, Alfred paced back and forth in his tiny hotel room, flinching as each minute passed and then it was 5pm and he'd missed his chance. He'd almost chickened out the second week as well, but the thought of Arthur Kirkland sitting alone and waiting as yet another day went by without rescue was enough to make Alfred come to his senses. He didn't want to make Arthur wait a second longer.

As Alfred sat nursing a cup of coffee in the corner of the café, he sized up the male patrons, trying to determine which of them, if any, was Arthur Kirkland. It was strange to think that the Arthur he was trying to find would be nearly twenty-three instead of the sixteen-year-old boy to whom Alfred had grown so inexplicably attached through the letter. There were a handful of men who fit the age range, but for whatever reason, Alfred didn't feel like they were the right person. They didn't give off the right vibe and Alfred felt like he would know instantly if he saw Arthur.

"Here's your tea, Mr. Kirkland."

Alfred's head shot up and he looked toward the direction of the voice.

"Thank you, Jenny. And please, call me Arthur."

Arthur? Could it be his Arthur? Alfred craned his neck to try to get a good look at the guy, but his back was towards him. In his preliminary screening of men in the room, Alfred had discounted this particular person because he seemed to be dressed like a middle-aged man, but as he examined him more closely he could see that he was wrong. The man was wearing a collared shirt and a sweater-vest, but his jeans were tight and trendy and it looked like he had several ear piercings. He bent over the table to get something out of his bag and his shirt rode up enough that Alfred could see a portion what looked like a tattoo of a guitar over his left hip. Alfred downed the rest of his coffee to steel his nerves, took a deep breath and walked over to the man's table.

"Excuse me, uh, Arthur? Arthur Kirkland?"

This had to be him. It had to be. Alfred didn't even need to hear a response; he just knew. A mature demeanour, but a young looking face, messy blonde hair, wide green eyes- if Alfred could have imagined anyone in the world to be Arthur before actually meeting him, he would have chosen this exact look. Well, maybe not the big eyebrows, but even those were so right that Alfred couldn't imagine Arthur looking any other way.

"Yes? I- I'm sorry, but have we met before?"

The stud of a tongue ring clicked gently in Arthur's mouth as he spoke. Alfred was mesmerized by his accent and found himself watching Arthur's mouth instead of saying all the charming, heroic introductory lines he had practised.

"No! I mean, not really. Shit, I mean- I found this."

Arthur's reaction to the bottle was almost instantaneous. His body tensed up and he braced his hands on the arms of his chair as if he might make a break for it at any second. Arthur's face drained of colour before flushing up to his ears and his breathing was coming in such fast little pants that Alfred was afraid he was having a panic attack. He resisted the urge to touch Arthur on the arm reassuringly, even if all he wanted to do was comfort the startled man.

"Christ, that's… I can't… Who are you?"

Alfred tried to sound as confident and friendly as he could, extending his hand.

"My name is Alfred F. Jones and I'm here to make your wish come true. Happy belated birthday!"

Arthur shook his hand timidly, shoulders hunched up in obvious discomfort.

"I, uh, well, thank you. Please, won't you, er, have a seat, yes?"

They sat in an awkward silence for several moments, Alfred fighting to stay smiling and brave and Arthur looking like he wanted to die.

"So, you're from America, then?"

"It's that obvious, huh?" Alfred was trying to sound casual and playful, but his voice kept cracking and he cleared his throat. "I'm from New York, so, yeah."

Arthur's mouth opened and closed a few times as if he were going to say something but didn't know how to phrase it.

"Is that where you found the, um…?" He indicated the bottle.

"No, actually, I found it in Florida about five years ago. Had to save up to come see you."

"My God, Florida? I don't… What are the odds of that even…?"

Alfred laughed good-naturedly at Arthur's fumbling. "Yeah, like a gazillion to one, probably. But hey, here I am!"

Arthur stared at him in amazement for a moment before jolting back to his senses. "And Christ! I mean, you came here! You saved money and did this. I never actually thought anyone was going to find that thing, but you've had it for five years? This is just…"

"Amazing?"

"Completely fucking mad."

"Oh. Well that, too. I just, I don't know. I read it and I felt like I had to do this. I couldn't leave you hanging, I guess. I understood, like, I got what you were going through, kinda, and I just felt like I had to do something about it, y'know?"

Arthur didn't respond for a long time, looking at the bottle and refusing to meet Alfred's gaze.

"C'mon, man, you gotta say something. You're making me feel like a crazy stalker or something."

Shaking his head, Arthur looked up. "You are crazy. I mean, that is, you're very kind and brave for coming here, but you're absolutely mental."

"So, are you not glad I came?"

"No, that's just it, I'm ecstatic! But you have to understand how awkward this is for me. You know everything about me. You know what wreck I am and what my deepest wishes are and you're a complete stranger from an ocean away! I'm mortified and I have no idea how to thank you."

"Hey! Don't be embarrassed! I think it's awesome that you took a chance like that. You just put it all out there and let the universe or karma or whatever take care of it. It inspired me. I had to get away, too, and you're right: it's no good if you can't share it with someone."

Arthur ducked his head down sheepishly. "So, Alfred F. Jones. What do we do now? "

Alfred cleared his throat and sat back in his chair, lacing his hands behind his head comfortably.

"Okay. Here's the deal. I have a load of cash saved up and ready to blow and one year to go anywhere and I want to do it with you. You waited seven years for someone to come save you, so the least I can do is give you one in return. I mean it. If you ask, we'll go anywhere and do anything and it will be amazing, I promise."

"But we're strangers! That's completely absurd, Jones! We can't just take off for a year when we barely know each other and I certainly can't ask you to spend your money on me!"

"We aren't strangers. I know everything about you, remember? And anything you want to know about me, you just have to ask. What do you really have tying you down that you can't let your own wish come true? Take another chance, Arthur. I swear it will be worth it."

"What do I have tying me down? My job, for one! I can't just walk away from my life here, however much I may have wanted to back then. I was sixteen years old, Alfred. As much as I appreciate you doing all of this, it was just something stupid I did when I was still a child!"

"Fuck your job! You can get another when we get back." Alfred leaned forward and grabbed Arthur's hands. "I don't care how old you were, or who you are now. Your wishes aren't stupid, Arthur!"

Arthur flinched, but didn't pull his hands away. He stared Alfred down, and Alfred shivered at the clarity and intensity of his gaze. He didn't think he could ever lie to Arthur even if wanted to; there was no way those eyes wouldn't see right through him. Slowly the tension in Arthur's shoulders released and his expression warmed. Alfred could have sworn there were the beginnings of tears in Arthur's eyes, but any signs of sadness were obliterated as Arthur smiled for the first time in their conversation. It was completely unguarded and genuine and Alfred felt a burst of something akin to butterflies erupt in his stomach.

"Alright, you glorious fool. I'll go with you. But don't think for a second I'm not helping pay for everything. I'm already indebted to you as it is."

"Don't worry about it. I'm doing this just as much for myself as I am for you. I'm a little too selfish to be a total hero."

Arthur laughed and pulled a hand away to rub his eyes. He almost went to join hands with Alfred again, but caught himself. Alfred wasn't sure why that disappointed him, but he was grinning from ear to ear anyway.

"So. I have a very important question for you, Arthur Kirkland. Where would you like to go?"

Alfred followed Arthur's gaze as the latter turned to look out the window of the café. It had started to drizzle and pavement was rapidly becoming a jewelled mirror beneath the cars that flew past. Alfred watched as Arthur's eyes tracked the progress of a single drop of water against the window pane, long black lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks when it reached the bottom. Arthur seemed to smile to himself, as if remembering a funny joke he had heard a long time ago, and then he turned back to Alfred.

"Everywhere."

A/N: So, I wonder how many people are going to be mad at me for ending it there? Ooops... Well, actually, I do know where all this would go from here if I was going to keep writing it, but I like the open-ish ending. Maybe.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!