Okay, Guys, I know I put a poll on my page asking which pairing I should do next, but I only got two responses and I swear one of them is accidentally mine, so I'm just going to go ahead and post this and hope it goes nicely. Oh, yes, and this will be important: Arthur's writing in the second part of this is italic, while Alfred's second entry is bold. His second entry is AFTER the beginning of the story. You'll know when he writes it down later. I had originally made it two different fonts, but fonts don't work here. ): Also, Arthur wrote first. You'll understand what I mean. I hope you enjoy. This is intended to be AmeCan, but if you followed my other stories, you know how easily that can change (which is why I'm only putting this under Alfred for now)

"Hey, Papa?"

"Yes, Alfred?"

"Where do stars come from?"

"Stars?"

"Yeah. What are they made of?"

"Do you mean babies, Alfred?"

"Nuh-uh. I wanna know about the stars, Papa."

"Well, son, stars are very complicated. Are you sure you want to know about them?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Okay. Keep an open mind, okay?"

"What's that?"

"We'll get to that another day. For now, let me tell you about the stars."

"Okay."

"Stars are glorious and beautiful creatures in the sky who look down on us with a concerned and caring eye. They are always looking out for us."

"Do they die?"

"Hmm? Why do you ask?"

"Because stars fall, right? So that means they die, right? Where do they go when they die? How are they made?"

"Hold on, Alfred, one question at a time. Which do you want me to answer first?"

"Do stars die?"

"No, they live forever. They will live until the end of time. They never die."

"Then why do they fall?"

"They fall because they get lonely up there."

"But there are so many of them! How could they get lonely?"

"Well, look up at the sky. Tell me what you see."

"I see the moon… and some clouds… and a plane… and a lot of stars. A lot of them."

"Yes, but what else do you see?"

"Um… I don't know. I don't see anything else."

"Exactly. What we can't see is the expansive space above the Earth where all of those stars are waiting. Do you see how some stars are brighter than others?"

"Yeah…. Yeah I do. Does that mean they're closer?"

"Precisely."

"So, because of the great distance between the stars, they fall so they aren't alone?"

"Good job, Alfred, that's exactly it."

"Where do they fall to?"

"They come here. To Earth. That's how I met your Grandmother."

"But Grandmummy is dead…"

"No, Alfred. She's still very much alive. She's back where she belongs, up in the sky, watching over you."

"She's a star?"

"Yes, she is. She's the one closest to the moon, the brightest one on the left, do you see her?"

"Yeah, yeah I see her! I think she's waving!"

"Yeah, I bet she is. She misses you, Alfred."

"Why doesn't she come back, then?"

"Because if she does, then she'll die. You see, when stars come down from their homes, they begin growing old and they start losing their strength and colour. When they go back in the sky, though, they stop aging and continue to live forever."

"Oh…. Do you…. Do you think Mom is up there, too?"

"Alfred…"

"And… And Dad! They're both up there, right? They're those two right next to Grandmummy, and they're all together, right? They're all still alive, right?"

"…."

"Papa?"

"Yes, Alfred. They're all up there. They're happy to see you, and they love you."

"I bet it's really nice up there…."

"…. Was there anything else you wanted to know about stars, Alfred?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah! How are they made? Are they just taken up there like Grandmummy?"

"Ah, that's a complicated question, Alfred. My feet are tired, why don't we turn back and head home?"

"Oh, okay, Papa."

"Come, hold my hand. We'll stop by the ice cream parlor on the way. How does that sound?"

"Yay! That sounds yummy!"

"Good boy, Alfred."

"Papa?"

"Yes, Alfred?"

"Will they ever come back?"

"Who? The Ice cream man? He's just gone to get your toppings."

"No, not him. I mean… Mom and Dad. They didn't look old, not like Grandmummy."

"….."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"You did nothing wrong, Alfred."

"Then why did they leave me?"

"…. Alfred, you know that's a complicated question…"

"I want to know."

"You're just a boy…"

"I want to know!"

"Alright, alright… sit back down now."

"You'll tell me?"

"Yes, but you have to promise not to interrupt me or tell anyone else, okay? It's a closely guarded secret that only stars knew about, until your Grandmother told me."

"Okay, I promise!"

"Pinkies?"

"Pinkies!"

"Good. Listen closely, okay? The reason why your Mom and Dad left to the sky was because all of the stars that had come to Earth were being called back. You see… something big is happening up there, and the stars want to keep us humans safe."

"They're in danger?"

"No, Alfred. They're perfectly safe. They live forever, remember?"

"Oh, right."

"Anyway, each star has a source of energy within their bodies, and when that energy is combined with all of the other stars surrounding the Earth, they can create a large and unbreakable shield that will wrap around the Earth and protect all of us."

"All of us?"

"All of us."

"What are they protecting us from?"

"They're protecting us from the evil invisible monster that eats everything in sight. This monster has had its sights set on Earth for so long, and now it's making its move. So your Mom and Dad didn't just leave you. They're protecting you, Alfred. Remember that, okay?"

"Okay, Papa."

"…. Hey, Papa?"

"Yes, Alfred?"

"In science class today…. We started learning about the universe…."

"Oh, Astrology? Did you learn a lot?"

"….. Well….."

"What is it, Alfred?"

"They said that there's no invisible monster in the sky. They called it a galaxy. They also told me that stars are just the product of a million tiny atomic reactions going on, which creates the light."

"Now, now, Alfred, what are you trying to say?"

"Were you lying to me?"

"What?"

"When you told me that Grandmummy and Mom and Dad were still alive. They're not alive, are they? They're dead. Just… dead."

"Alfred!"

"No! Don't touch me! They're dead, and you lied to me about it! Why would you do that, Papa? I trusted you! I believed you! I would sit at my window for hours, wishing that I would see Mom and Dad and Grandmummy come down to Earth again and tell me that everything was okay!"

"Don't believe in everything you hear, Alfred."

"Thanks for the life lesson, Papa!"

"No, I meant your teachers! Alfred, get back here! Alfred! Al…. Al… fred…"

"…. Papa?"

"….."

"Papa!"

"He looks peaceful now. Like he's sleeping."

"…."

"Alfred, are you even paying attention?"

"….."

"Alfred, you git, sit up straight."

"…"

"Don't give me that blank stare. Come on, boy, be respectful. It's your Grandfather for all you care."

"What do you know?"

"I'm his brother."

"Yeah right. You're way too young."

"I am his brother, whether you believe me or not."

"Whatever. Leave me alone."

"No. I've been told to take care of you, Alfred, and that's exactly what I'm planning to do."

"You can go jump off a cliff for all I care."

"….. Brat…"

"Ass."

"Can't you at least pay your Grandfather your last respects before he's put in the bloody ground?"

"Don't tell me what to do."

"What am I going to do with you, boy?"

"This is your house?"

"Yes. Your room on the first floor down the hall. Last door to your left."

"This is the laundry room, though."

"I said first floor."

"This is the first floor, dude."

"This is the ground floor, eejit, the first floor is the first floor. Upstairs?"

"That's the second floor."

"No, the second floor is the attic. Now hurry up or I'll kick you up those bloody stairs."

"I told you to stop telling me what to do."

"You're not the boss of me."

"Shut up!"

"Just get to your bloody room, wanker!"

"Fine! Whatever! Ass!"

"You'll start work tomorrow!"

"Work? What?"

"Well, you're not staying here for free, boy."

"I thought you were told to take care of me?"

"Doesn't mean I have to. I can easily kick you out. How would you like to live at a soup kitchen for the rest of your bloody life?"

"Damn it! What's my job, then? Cleaning up around the house?"

"No, tending to my corn."

"Corn? You're a farmer? Oh… oh this is just brilliant!"

"Don't take that tone of voice with me, young man!"

"I'm not a fucking kid!"

"Like hell you are! You're starting work tomorrow whether you like it or not, first thing in the morning!"

"Fuck you! I'll sleep in if I want!"

"Just go to your room, Yankee!"

"I'll be gone first thing in the morning! You'll wake up to find all my shit gone, and you'll feel fucking bad! You'll be guilty! I'll end up dead in an alleyway and it'll be your fault! Fucking eyebrows!"

"Your room!"

"Fuck you!"

0|0

It's been three months since Papa's funeral, and me and that Arthur guy still don't get along. I'm thirteen now, and I still feel like a fucking retard for believing everything Papa told me about stars. How could I have been so dense? Believing in crap like that was almost like believing in Santa Claus! Dammit….

To top it all off, I'm being homeschooled by Mr. Abnormally-Large-Eyebrows-Man, just so I could tend to his stupid corn field while he chills in his souped up and air conditioned living room watching some crappy re-runs of Doctor Who on BBC or something. It was mid-summer, so it was probably a gazillion degrees out there, but the thermometer only said ninety-eight. I want to punch that thermometer in the face. It deserves it for lying about the temperature.

I hate liars now. I hate them with a passion. I swear, if anyone else lies to me about anything ever again, I will beat the living shit out of them, then hang them from their toes off a flying plane, or drag them down the street while hooked to the back of Athur's pick-up truck. I don't know how to drive, but that doesn't mean I can't figure out which is gas and which is break. And let me tell you, once I find that gas pedal, that person would be road-burned for life.

Alfred F. Jones

Another month, and I'm still waiting for someone to burst through the door and take me away from this hell-hole. Arthur's trying to teach me all of this 'pre-college' crap that only geniuses would be able to learn, and he's expecting me to figure it all out in one day. One day! What does he think I am, Ghandi?

Ghandi was that genius dude who made the bomb, right? Yeah, I'm pretty sure that was Ghandi. And I even writing his name right? Gone-d? Gaun-dee? Gan-dii? I dunno.

Anyway, Gone-d or no Gaun-dee, I'm still being treated like shit here. I hate this guy, I seriously do. I want to roundhouse kick him in the face. Just like Chuck Chan. Or Jackie Norris. Either one.

Alfred F. Jones

Who does this guy think he is? What an asshole! What a complete asshole! How the hell did he think he could do that? I'll kill him! That bitch! I hate him so much! I hate him I hate him I hate him! Dammit!

Alfred Fucking Jones

What the hell is up with Eyebrows now? He's being so fucking moody, it's throwing me off. Can he be any more of a fucking priss? I hate this guy so much, but he's really starting to creep me out. He's just acting weird, that's all.

It's not like I'm genuinely worried or anything. He's just being strange.

Alfred F. Jones

I don't get it, one day Arthur is yelling at me for useless crap and forcing me to pick up after myself and stupid shit like that, and the next, he's crying on my shoulder? What's up with him? Seriously, I'm really worried for my own safety here. What if his mood swings turn him violent next?

It was weird, though, what he said when he was crying. He said something like "He was such a great man. He shouldn't have died. He shouldn't have left me. He should've just gone back with the rest of us."

I think he was talking about Papa…

Alfred F. Jones

So… I asked him about it. Not that I was worried or anything. Far from it! I was just curious. I mean, wouldn't you be curious too? Well, this is what I can remember:

I went up to Arthur, who was sitting in this huge red lounge chair tucked into the corner of the living room with a cup of brandy in his hand and a cigar in the other, watching the fire or some boring shit like that, and I asked him, "Hey, dude, you know how you were crying the other day?"

He glared at me, it was kinda funny. I couldn't take him seriously anymore after watching him cry like a girl on my shoulder, but then he looked at his drink.

"What about it?" He definitely still sounded sad.

"Well, who were you talking about?" I asked

"Who do you think?"He asked

"I dunno, that's why I'm asking you." I said.

"Sit down." He said. I sat on the couch.

"I was talking about your Grandfather."

"You were saying weird things."

"I know. I'm sorry, but I don't want to explain it to you."

"Then why did you make me sit?"

"…. Go to your room, git."

"No, tell me."

"Dammit, I'm not in the mood."

"Just tell me!"

He was getting really worked up, and it was pretty funny, until he threw his cup at me and yelled at me to go to my room. I did as quickly as I could, and wrote everything down. At least I think that's everything.

Alfred F. Jones

That wasn't everything. Arthur had been

crying that day. I remember it clearly.

He really didn't want to talk

about my Papa, and now I understand why.

Alfred.

Man, I'm under room-arrest for a week just because I pissed Arthur off! What a fucking priss! I was just trying to be considerate or whatever! Ass.

Alfred F. Jones

Now, now, Alfred, you should really learn to control that anger of yours.

Dude, are you reading my friggin' journal? What the hell, man? This is private stuff! You ass, stop reading my journal! This is the only privacy I get!

Alfred F. Jones

Tsk, Tsk, Alfred, there's no such thing as

privacy in my house. What's yours is mine and what's

mine is mine. You'll understand one day,

I'm sure.

Actually, Arthur, I do understand you

now. It took a while, but I think I finally

get what you've been trying to teach

me. Thanks.

God dammit, I'll never understand you, eyebrows! Leave me alone! If you don't stop reading my journal, I'll sneak into your bedroom and shave off your damn brows! Then I'll read whatever journal you have and I'll be the last one laughing! Just you wait!

Alfred F Jones

Oh, to be young again…

I don't think I'll ever really understand this but… me and Arthur kind of had a moment. It was weird and awkward and he was crying and I was crying and then we hugged and he said to me "I knew you'd come around one day."

I don't really want to write down what happened though. I'll just keep it in my head…

Alfred F. Jones

I should've written it down. All I can remember now was that Arthur had told me he had to leave. He was going somewhere far away, and he told me we wouldn't see each other for a long while. Of course, as a boy of thirteen, I got scared and nervous. I didn't want him to leave. I still don't remember what it was that he told me, exactly… all I can really remember is that he wasn't as…. Bright as he usually was. If that makes sense. Well, I guess it'll only make sense if you knew my Papa well enough. Or me.

But I have a pretty good guess about where he ran off to…

Alfred.

I'll be alone from now on. I'm sure I'll have a lot of time on my hands to keep writing in my journal, but now I have to really start working. Was he training me for this? Did he know he was going to leave?

What an ass. The least he could do was giving me a heads-up a few weeks prior, instead of mentioning it over dinner the night before.

Well, I guess complaining won't do much about the situation. Maybe he'll be back soon? Don't tell him, and he better not read this, but I hope he does come back. I'm kind of… lonely.

Alfred F. Jones

…. I'm so, so sorry.

Me too.