Tiny fists flying and little feet kicking around on the schoolyard. His hand tugged at his enemy’s long perfect locks. The other kid laughed while he was filled with anger. His first memory was a fist fight with his future husband.
His brothers flashed up. He was running after the his elders as fast as he could with tiny legs. They had taken something of his, but he couldn’t remember what. The eldest held it up high above his head. His red hair glowed in the sun. But he knew that after their father came out and stopped his brothers, they would all ruffle his hair and say “sorry little brother. Love you.” That was his brothers in a nutshell.
Then he was in front of his childhood home, even younger. Maybe this was his first memory, not the fight. Mama and papa had been fighting. His mama kissed him on the nose and whispered goodbye in the language he thought only they knew. And then she was gone, never to return to their green cottage in the country.
The next event was years in the future. Detention. It was for one of the numerous fights with the boy from kindergarten. He remembered his feeling of raw hatred burning in his chest and shaking him as the boy talked to him and asked him on a date. And then he had given some snide remark and a sarcastic yes, which the boy took to be literal and had said, “great! See you on Saturday!”
The next moment he was kissing him under the mistletoe his brother had hung. It was still unclear to him why he loved his enemy so much, but he had never questioned that he did love him in the first place. It was a constant.
The next few memories were all with him. Kissing at graduation. Going to the same college. Moving to America together. His once enemy getting down on one knee and pulling a ring out.
His husband whispered to him at night in his native tongue. His husband didn’t know he knew it. But he did, for they were the words that his mother would sing him to sleep with so long ago, in the green cottage. As he remembered the heartbreak his mother had caused him he vowed to be a better parent than she was.
And then finally, his sister in-law handing him his son. His eyes were so blue and bright. His little hand had grasped his finger, it was the cutest thing; until he squeezed so hard his finger almost broke. He then knew that his baby boy had inherited his strength. The superpower that he had kept secret all his life. His son had it.
He had named him Alfred. Two years later Alfred’s brother Matthew had been born, and together with Francis they were a family.
Arthur’s last regret as he took his final breath was that his death would break up their family.
52 Lily Street basement
Alfred texted his dad back to ask what the fuck. No context, just a random address texted to him when his dad was at work.
He looked the address up on google; it was only a few blocks away. He needed to go for his daily run, why not run there?
U want me to go there?
Yes came the reply.
“Papa, I’m going out for a run! I’ll be back in 30 minutes!” he yelled.
“Okay, mon petit! I love you!”
“Love ya too papa!”
Alfred set off on his run. He let his feet fall hard on the pavement, for there was no rest for a hero!
He stopped in his tracks as he almost missed the place. His run had taken him into the bad part of town, why the fuck was his dad here?
Lewd words (though he’d unfortunately heard worse through thin walls) were spray painted on the dirty brick walls; which themselves were close to breaking down. The metal railings for the steps and fire escape were completely rusted. The door was half off its hinges only held back by a door stopper. Almost all the windows were broken or boarded up. There was no way that his classy Englishman father would come to this place.
If it was a prank, Alfred swore that he would not do his chores for a month. He grumbled as he removed the door stop and went inside. He wasn’t scared! There were places like that that people lived in! The roof wouldn’t cave in on him, and he wouldn’t step on a rusty nail...
Fuck. There was no way his father was here.
The inside was a cream colored lobby, with peeling walls, moldy wood floors, and an old wooden elevator on one side of an empty counter and a door labeled “staircase” on the other. The elevator could probably break any minute. Alfred opted for the stairs.
As he walked over, the floor gave way under his right foot and he fell. The little shock settled in after sending a shiver up his spine. He sat up slowly, and saw the floor under his body had been cracked. He pulled his foot (which was miraculously not broken) out of the hole. He scrambled away and on to his feet, and treaded carefully the rest of the way to the stairs.
He clutched the railing for dear life. Then the smell hit his nose, the stench of blood. His dad... wouldn’t come to some place like here. Any ideas about why his dad was here were erased, it was a trap. Someone had to have gotten ahold of his phone to play a prank or something. Or... human trafficking... murder... CIA experiments...
He had to see what was up. He could be the hero that caught the villain in his nefarious scheme! They thought they had the element of surprise, but Alfred was ready!
He pulled a broken board off of the floor and brandished it as his mighty weapon! Whoever stole his father’s phone would pay!
He dropped his board as soon as he reached the last step.
His father was there. It wasn’t a trick. His father laid dead on the ground, limp as a rag doll.
No, no, there wasn’t blood, he wasn’t limp, it didn’t smell like roadkill, he wasn’t dead! He couldn’t be fucking dead! HIS FATHER WASN’T FUCKING DEAD!
His body betrayed him and started walking towards the image that was definitely a hallucination or a dream. But if it was a dream then he could control it. So his father was gonna get up and laugh; clap him on the back and tell him it’s just a prank, son. C’mon dad, get up. Get up!
No. No. It wasn’t happening.
Since it wasn’t happening, he sat down in the blood. Criss-cross apple sauce; what they’d called it in kindergarten. There were lots of sayings he’d kept from kindergarten. Dad had always scoffed and say “say it like an adult Alfred.” His dad who was laying in front of him.
He dipped his fingers in his father’s blood. He let it run through his fingers and he laughed. A weird maniacal laugh; way different from his normal one. This was his dad’s blood! He was playing with his dad’s blood!
His dad was dead! Dead! D-E-A-D dead! Oh god, he was dead! He placed his fingers on his wrist though he knew it was true. Dead. He laughed louder and it echoed off the walls creating a cacophony.
And then he abruptly stopped. What the fuck was he doing? Why the fuck was he laughing?! WHY WAS HE LAUGHING?!?!
A life had ended. Not just any life, but his dad’s. What was wrong with him?
And then tears fell down his cheeks. His face dropped. Dad’s face was dull and lifeless. How could he laugh when his dad would never be able to? He wouldn’t be able to do anything anymore!
He slumped over and hugged the corpse. Instantly his clothes were soaked with blood, but he couldn’t care when it was the last time he would ever get to hug his father.
“No...” he murmured. “No.. no, no no no nononononononono...”
Blood was dripping down the wall. That was strange, how could it have gotten up there? His gaze shifted up the wall and saw a phrase written on it... in blood. It was dripping and the phrase was nearly illegible. Nearly.
I love you it wrote. His father’s right arm was stretched out right under it. And his phone was right next to his bloody fingertips.
Alfred touched the wall with one hand, like he was somehow closer to his father by touching the message. With the other hand he opened the phone. The password was 1066, for October 6th, 2006; his parents’ wedding night. It opened right up to messages, where his dad had sent I love you Alfred, tell Francis and Mattie that I love them too.
Ps, I’m sorry
Alfred must not had felt his phone vibrate. He opened it and there it was.
“I love you too,” he whispered into the silence.
He went back to hugging his father. He would call the police, but it could wait. He needed to hug him.
After seemingly hours he finally lifted himself off of his corpse of a father and dialed 911.
“Hello,” his voice almost broke down but he kept going. “This is Alfred F. Jones, my father’s been murdered.”
Translations: (most of these are pretty well-known, but there will sometimes be complicated phrases)
Mon petit: literally “my little” But means my dear.
I’ve never dealt with loosing a family member before (luckily) but I tried my best to research what it’s like. I wanted a very dramatic scene since Alfred is a very dramatic person. I hope I delivered!
I already have the next chapter written and an idea for the third, so look out for those soon if you enjoyed!
The longer he waited the weirder he felt. By the time he heard feet thundering down the stairs he had already gone through a million thoughts, a million feelings. But as a police officer pulled him up and put a hand on his shoulder, Alfred had settled on what exactly he was feeling.
“Don’t fucking touch me.”
The police officer snapped her hand down but stared darkly at him. Despite her eyes being green they looked as icy as blues.
“You’re a suspect for the case. Do you have an alibi? Or do you know who killed him?”
“I’m a suspect?” Alfred asked. “I’m a SUSPECT? I FUCKING REPORTED THE MURDER! I’M HIS SON!”
“People kill their family all the time. And you’d be surprised how many people report murders that they’ve committed. You could be trying to lead us off. I won’t fall for that.”
“Show some compassion Saunders!” A brown-haired police officer yelled. “Yes he’s a suspect, but odds are he’s just a kid who lost his dad. We’ll question him later.” The guy turned to Alfred. “Sorry kid.”
Saunders tisked and walked away, glaring at him.
The other officer turned towards him. His short stature was tense, but his face was the opposite. He was gently frowning and his moist brown eyes connected with Alfred’s.
“I’m sorry for your loss son.”
“Don’t call me your fucking son,” Alfred spat. He glared at the officer.
How many people has this guy given that same face to? Is he treating me just like a random kid who just lost my father? Fuck him. I’m not some random kid.
“I understand that you’re angry, that’s perfectly normal. But can I please ask a few simple questions? I need them for the record.” The guy held up his hands.
Fuck your questions.
“What’s your name?” he asked after silence. Alfred stared him down in lieu of responding.
The officer stepped back and gave a sad smile. He went to the stairs and climbed up, coming back down with a blanket.
“I can leave you alone, but I want you to come back up the stairs. We need to investigate the crime. And we need to search you first. We need to know if you had any kind of blade. That was the murder weapon. However you do have your rights, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in court. You have the right to talk to a lawyer for advice before we ask you any questions. You have the right to have a lawyer with you during questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you before any questioning if you wish. If you decide to answer questions now without a lawyer present, you have the right to stop answering at any time.”
They suspect me. Alfred thought. They think I fucking killed my father. But I didn’t. I’m clear. So go ahead, fucking search me.
“Go ahead. Search me. You won’t find anything.”
The cops searched him. All his pockets came out empty and the officers seemed satisfied that he didn’t have a knife. They also squeezed some of the blood from his pants into a tube. Alfred didn’t know what that was for.
Alfred snatched the blanket from a cop’s outstretched hand. He didn’t want to see the cops fucking up his dad’s body for evidence. He slammed his feet walking up the stairs and curled himself into ball. A grunting wet ball.
It took seconds for him to grow dissatisfied with his fetal position. He snapped up and without thinking the next thing he was doing was punching the wall. God it hurt as he recoiled his hand, but it was worth it.
But then he was jumping out of the way as the wall caved in.
He had punched his fist through the wall, which splintered and cracked all the way up to the ceiling. A spiderweb of destruction. But Alfred had not ripped his fist back out cleanly. No, it had ripped out a huge chunk of the wall. He watched in horror as the ceiling above him fell, him barely dodging it. The rest of the ceiling quickly crumbled, and he was soon crushed under plaster. Furniture had apparently been on the floor above him too, as a bed and a dresser fell through the wooden floor to the basement.
The police officers
Alfred threw the rubble off himself, only groaning slightly and not acknowledging that if he were anyone else he would be dead. He rushed down the rickety steps. He breathed a sigh of relief, the officers were standing and his father’s body hadn’t been crushed. But then he saw who had been crushed by the rubble.
The officer who had talked to him earlier, and told Saunders to back off. His legs and part of his torso were crushed. He was unmoving. Alfred rushed to him, and so did the other officers. They started to heave the rubble up and Alfred gave it the push that it needed, giving room for one last officer to pull the injured one out. Blood ran down his dark skin. His eyes were closed and he was unmoving. Alfred held his breath as another officer checked his pulse. But after a silent moment his eyes fluttered open.
“Thank you...” he croaked before coughing up blood.
“Someone get the medics,” Saunders barked. The one who had pulled the man out got up and ran up the stairs. Saunders got up and backed away. He started scribbling on his pad. It was only Alfred and a fourth officer leaning over the injured man.
“You saved his life,” the guy said. “We couldn’t have lifted the rubble without a fourth man. You saved his life. Thank you.”
“Um, you’re welcome?” Alfred said. “What was his name?”
“Officer Stevens,” he replied.
“Well Stevens,” he said, leaning over the guy. “I’m Alfred F. Kirkland-Bonnefoy.”
“Bad time to tell me that kid,” Stevens laughed. Alfred joined in. He was fine.
Alfred stopped laughing. He didn’t deserve to. He had almost killed a guy. A person who had a family that would miss him just as much as Alfred missed his dad. He had a superpower, like Captain America and Superman in the movies. But Cap and Superman didn’t almost kill people out of misdirected rage.
You can’t just wish painful thoughts away, and he was imagining a funeral with short brown-haired kids and a beautiful mother all gathered around a casket bawling their eyes out. He almost caused that. He almost became a villain.
“I’m sorry,” Alfred said quietly. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault kid,” the other officer said.
But it is. However Alfred couldn’t let them know that. He’d kept his power of super strength a secret for his entire life. He couldn’t go spilling it.
Stevens got carried out on a stretcher. A few more policemen came. One of the officers from before, officer Muller as he said he was named, asked him questions that Alfred answered quickly. Then Muller went off talking to the others, and Alfred listened it.
“What the hell could that have been?” said one of them. “Definitely wasn’t a bomb. Would’ve made a sound. The marks look like the wall was damaged.”
“Maybe the killer was still lurking here,” said another.
“The murderer could have tried to bring the building down, but they couldn’t have any escape route that no one would see,” Muller added.
“That kid looks suspicious...”
“Oh come on, that’s the face of a scared grieving kid if I’ve ever seen one. Besides, we found blood that wasn’t the dead guy’s. The kid’s not injured. We swabbed his pants, the blood is from his father. Let’s just get back to the building damage.”
“Could’ve been seismic activity.”
“None of the other buildings are damaged,” the first one said. “Idiot...” they added quietly.
What if they find me out? Alfred wondered. I can’t let them know, I could go to jail. Can’t play my Nintendo in jail.
Alfred walked up and they seemed to remember he was there. One of them gave a look to the other two like we’ll finish this later.
Muller broke away and turned to Alfred. He crossed his hands behind his back.
“So Mr. Kirkland-Bonnefoy, at some point we’ll have to have you down at the station for further investigation. But we know that you’ll probably want to have time to grieve first. So we can take you back home but you’ll have to come to the station in two weeks or so,” Muller said.
Alfred looked back to his father. The tears came rushing back. With the crisis averted he now had nothing to dwell on but the fact that his dad was dead.
Alfred nodded and Muller put a reassuring hand on his back. Alfred’s feet dragged on the stairs and across the edge of the floor that hadn’t been broken and to the police car.
Muller opened the door for him and Alfred climbed in the backseat. He remembered a conversation he had with his friends so long ago... that one of his (many) dreams was to ride in a police car without being arrested. They had laughed but he wanted to see what it was like. However he didn’t imagine it would be because his dad was dead.
The ride was barely a few minutes long but he couldn’t even hold off his thoughts in that time. Don’t think about it he told himself. But what is “it”? It is dad, idiot. The cycle continued and the ingrained image of his dad in a pool of blood wouldn’t go away.
Soon the car pulled up to the brick townhouse that Alfred had grown up in. In front there was a garden that Alfred and Matthew had deemed as dumb years ago, so only Dad and Papa took care of it. Now it would be Papa alone. Near the door three small flag poles jutted out, for France, Great Britain, and America. But the only British-man was gone. The yard was perfect from upkeep. The house looked friendly. But the house that Alfred loved so dearly could never be the same without his father.
Muller opened the car door and led the way to the front door, but Alfred rung the bell. He heard bustling from inside before Matthew appeared. Matt cocked his head towards Muller.
“Um, did you get in trouble Al?”
Alfred shook his head. Matthew looked straight at him and his eyes widened. He must have seen the tears in his eyes. He pulled Alfred through the door and into a hug.
“Are you okay?”
“No,” Alfred moaned. He buried his head in his brother’s shoulder as he started to cry. He could feel Matthew stiffen but hug him harder.
“Are you his brother?” Muller asked. Alfred felt him nod. “Can you get your mother?”
“Uh, I- we have two fathers. One of them is at work but Papa’s home,” Matthew said, causing Alfred to sob at the mere mention of his dad.
“Can you get him?” asked Muller.
“Yeah, should I call my dad at work?”
Matt let go of him and Alfred stood there slumped over while Matt got their papa. Papa’s brows were furrowed and he was frowning. But just as Matthew had, Papa met his eyes and came rushing forward.
“Oh, mon petit, what happened?”
“I’m sorry to tell you this Mr.-” Muller started.
“Dad’s dead,” Alfred sobbed.
Everyone went silent. Alfred saw Matt freeze and his eyes widen. Papa’s grip on him loosened as he went limp.
“Alfred called us about an hour ago, and Arthur Kirkland-Bonnefoy was confirmed dead at 10:26 am. It was confirmed to be murder but we don’t know the killer. I am so sorry for your loss,” Muller said quietly.
Matthew stumbled over to the couch and sunk into the cushions. Papa’s breathing went quick and he started holding Alfred so tight that it was hard to breathe.
“Non,” Papa sobbed. “Non, non, Alfred, tell it isn’t true. Arthur can’t be dead Alfred. Tell me it isn’t true.”
“I was there Papa. I saw him. It’s true he’s dead,” Alfred whimpered. Papa let go of him and fell to his knees. He started crying. Matthew came over and feebly put a hand on Papa’s back.
“I’m so sorry,” Muller said.
“Go away,” Matthew snapped. “Please.”
“Ok,” Muller replied. He padded out the door and closed with without a sound.
Alfred sat on his knees and they formed a triangle. Illuminati Alfred thought but the thought went as soon as it came.
“He can’t be gone,” Papa said. “He can’t...”
“I’m sorry,” Alfred said. “He was already dead when I got there.”
“Where did you go Alfred?” Papa asked. “I thought you were going for a run?”
Alfred pulled out his phone and showed the texts.
“I was running there, I didn’t think it was a big deal,” Alfred said. “He loves you,” he said to both of them.
Papa cried harder and Mattie broke into tears. Papa buried his face in his hands.
“I think... I want to be alone now,” Papa said. He got up and practically ran up the stairs.
Matthew stared at him teary eyed. Alfred reluctantly broke his gaze.
“I think I need to too,” Alfred said. “I’m sorry little bro.”
He stood up and went up the stairs, glancing back and seeing Mattie in the same position, hunched over with his back turned to him. Alfred felt bad leaving him there, but he needed some time alone.
He collapsed into the superhero themed covers and hugged his Captain America pillow. He let his tears fall onto it. He realized that his clothes her caked with blood that would never wash out. He toed off his shoes and kicked off his pants. He slid into pajamas and went without a shirt. The summer heat hadn’t yet dissipated even though it was October.
As he sat there the anger returned with a vengeance. Someone was out there living life, knowing that they killed someone’s father.
Alfred screamed himself hoarse into a pillow, as he knew what punching a wall would do. Screamed until there was nothing left but hatred. Raw burning hatred for whoever was evil enough to kill someone.
He ripped his pillow to shreds. He barely cared that he ripped through Cap’s face. He could buy a new pillow case.
He had super strength. He knew that superpowers were real; for all he knew he could be the only one. He could become Captain America. Or be a vigilante in the night, taking down crime lords, stopping robberies, and even preventing murder. He could stop anyone in the city from feeling how he was. But even more appealing,
He could find the killer.
He could be a hero.
He could make them pay.
Mon petit: my dear
So this chapter is one huge suspension of disbelief. I know that the US police are not that nice. But I have a few points:
. Alfred’s white. Sadly, cops trust white kids more than black kids so Alfred has a major advantage.
. He acts childishly
. The only evidence is that he’s at the crime scene. They know that his dad asked him to be there because of his phone. So there is nothing illogical about Al being innocent.
. There is some evidence that Alfred was not the killer, like him not bleeding.
. This isn’t a specific city, it could be completely fictional. So that means that the procedures of the police could be very abnormal.
Also, I know almost nothing about the police. Plus the plot would have been really fucked up if Alfred got arrested. If you have to, imagine this is an alternate universe US that doesn’t have such a fucked up police system.
6 Weeks Later
Alfred left the police station an innocent man. Six long weeks he was under investigation. But it was his last time in the station. He was cleared of all charges. When Papa had heard that, he had run up and hugged Alfred. Hugged him for not killing his father.
Papa looked tired. Alfred couldn’t pinpoint a single feature about his face, but he just was. Papa didn’t know that Alfred and Mattie knew that he stayed up all night on some days. Matthew told him that when Papa did sleep, it was only five or so hours. But Alfred worried more about Mattie; if he knew that it meant he was awake.
They went out for pizza after leaving the station. Papa hated any food he didn’t make himself but it was for Alfred. What had it come to that they were celebrating Alfred not going to prison?
All of them were silent on the ride home. When they got home Mattie said that he wanted to go out anyway and went off on his bike. It wasn’t a surprise, Matthew was gone almost every day since Dad died. Papa looked at Alfred with a shaky smile.
“Want to watch the télé?” he asked. “We can watch Captain America if you want?”
“No thanks, I’m gonna go out too,” Alfred replied. Papa looked down towards his feet.
“Ok petit. Have fun.”
Alfred sadly smiled but went up to his room. He felt bad leaving Papa alone but he already had plans. Super plans.
He opened his drawer marked do not open Papa and Mattie!!! So far it had worked and they hadn’t discovered the questionable contents. He pulled his mask out; made of cardboard and fabric, and painted red white and blue. He mounted it onto his glasses and pulled it on. Then he put on his blue leggings (not tights) and white shirt. Finally his crowning jewel, a brilliant red cape with his superhero name on the back, The Real Superman. Yeah it was unoriginal, but he was like a real Superman, minus the flying.
He jumped out the window onto a mattress he had hidden in the bushes. He immediately rolled off spy style. His cape totally didn’t get tangled up in his limbs, making him take a solid minute to get it righted again.
He disappeared in the shrubs and sneaked into a park behind the house. He couldn’t just stroll into the bad part of town, super villains could see him. That was assuming that anyone had powers. There were no real people with superpowers ever recorded. Alfred could be the only one.
Alfred had gone out eight times before, but had only really done something twice. One time he stopped an old fat dude from robbing a lady in fancy clothes, but afterwards she asked “what the fuck are you wearing?” and walked away. No thank you or anything. And the other thing was helping an old man across the street.
Maybe 9th time’s the charm. He took a longer route though the park so he could get to an alley instead of his regular shady street. The more alleys he went through the higher chance of illegal activity.
The alley was devoid of life and so were the next few. He got to one where he kept a bunch of wooden planks and ropes. He strapped them to his back for safe keeping.
There was a place where the alleys and deserted roads became a little less deserted. That was where the rope and wood came in.
Attached to one end of the rope was a grappling hook. He threw it up and made sure it was secure, before hauling himself up the three story building. Super strength came in handy, his measly body was a breeze to lift up. It was surprising how agile he was just because he was strong.
He strutted atop the roofs and jumped from building to building. When they were too far apart he would set down the wood planks as a bridge.
He looked over and saw someone looking out their window on the other side of the street, jaw wide open. He smiled and saluted them.
After countless buildings and Alfred’s legs getting very tired, he reached his destination. A rooftop overlooking a junkyard. There wasn’t much there, but the past two times he went there, there were two people who disappeared when he got there. He was there earlier than he was the previous times, maybe they would stay.
He looked over the yard. No one. There were a few places to hide, but not a lot. Alfred moved across the roof, looking for a different angle. There was still nobody there. Then he felt a tap on his shoulder.
He spun around and saw two people, one of them being his brother. Mattie looked bored, he was leaning back with his hands in his hoodie. And his eyebrows were raised. The guy in front of him had an ear to ear grin. Alfred recognized him instantly. It was Gilbert Beilschmidt, the guy who was always in detention. He was famously known as the prankster, but also known as the albino kid.
“Hey, I’m more than just albino,” Gilbert laughed. Alfred furrowed his brows. how did he know that?
“He can read minds. It’s his superpower,” Matthew said.
“You seriously thought you were the only one with superpowers?” Gilbert asked. Alfred blushed.
“I never met anyone else with them...”
“Idiot, your own brother has them,” Gilbert said. “Oh by the way, this is your brother,” he said to Mattie. Matt held his face in his hand.
“Why am I not surprised Al?”
“What the fuck are you wearing?” Gilbert snorted.
“It’s a costume man,” Alfred sighed. “Wait, Mattie, you have powers?”
“Yeah,” Matthew said quietly. “Do you also have super strength?”
“Yep! It’s awesome!”
“It is cool, but what are you doing Al?”
“He’s trying to be a superhero, obviously,” Gilbert answered.
“Maybe don’t read my mind?” Alfred snapped.
“Don’t need to read your mind to know that one,” Gilbert replied. “But sure. I won’t.”
“Yeah, I don’t really believe that,” Alfred said.
“He actually means it,” Mattie spoke up. “Really, if you ask him he won’t. I’ve tested it.”
“Really? What color am I thinking of?”
“Knowing you its probably red white and blue,” Gilbert said.
“That was kind of easy Al,” Matthew said.
Alfred stood there pouting and Gilbert grinned. Matthew walked away towards an elevator shaft.
“Where ya going Mattie?” Gilbert asked.
“Wha bout us?”
“I thought you would follow me,” Mattie blushed. “Never mind...”
Gilbert ran up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”
Gilbert opened the door and Matthew followed him inside. Alfred went in after them.
Alfred had kind of expected the inside to be empty and falling apart based on the outside and it being outside of a junkyard; but it was actually furnished. He couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be a house or a bar or what, but it had a few brown futon couches, a blocky tv on a crate, and a mini fridge in the corner. There were also a few boxes and a deflated air mattress.
“What is this place Matt?” he asked.
“Um, me and Gil just hang out here sometimes. A few other people come here sometimes too,” Matthew replied.
“Yeah, this place was a dump then I came around and blessed it with my awesomeness! Now all the chaotic neutrals and true neutrals of the superpowered world come here if they’re in the city.”
“That’s... actually sort of what happened,” Matthew said. Gilbert grinned ear to ear and held up his hand for a high five that Matthew returned.
“That’s why I love you Matt!”
Matthew blushed and Alfred smirked. He shipped it. Not really of course, he would give Gilbert the shovel talk a million times if he was actually dating Mattie, but he still shipped it.
“Wanna watch tv or something? Matthew asked. Alfred shrugged and Gilbert nodded. He cracked open a coke he got from the mini fridge while Matt turned on Netflix. Alfred sat on a different couch still in view of the tv. Gilbert sat down with his arm around Matthew, who stiffened and quickly glanced at Alfred. He looked away as they met eyes.
“I don’t know what to watch...”
“I’ll pick!” Gilbert said, interrupting Matt. He put on some show and they all relaxed into the plot, though Alfred didn’t know what was happening; having not seen the beginning of the season.
Matthew kept looking at him. He looked away whenever Alfred saw, but Alfred knew he was watching him.
“Gil, can you pause it?” Alfred asked. Gilbert nodded and quickly paused the show. He looked between the two brothers.
“What’s up Matty? I see you glancing at me.”
“Uh, just, just thinking,” Matthew said.
Gilbert glared at Alfred, though he didn’t know what for. Gilbert tightened his grip on Matthew’s shoulder and Matthew shifted closer.
“Why are you dressed like this Al?” Matthew asked quietly. Alfred breathed a sigh of relief, it was just his ridiculous get-up.
“I’m a superhero now. What else am I supposed to wear.”
“Maybe something that doesn’t attract every mafia goon in the city,” Gilbert snickered. “What have you even done as a ‘superhero?’”
Gilbert froze before breaking into laughter.
“You call yourself a superhero and you don’t even know about the mafia? That’s priceless,” Gilbert laughed.
“Shut up,” Alfred said. “I’m new to this. Who are these mafia dudes?”
“It’s a regular mafia except a lot of people have superpowers,” Matthew said. “People with powers find out about these things, you can find information if you look far enough through the internet. Lots of people come here because of all the superhumans. A lot of them are good but a lot of them are greedy too. And their greed leads them to the mafia, unfortunately.”
Alfred nodded along, processing the information. These people had to be the bad guys, the mafia was always bad. So these were his enemy.
“Thanks for telling me bro! Now I know who to fight!”
Matthew was silent and so was Gilbert. But Alfred saw the roll of Gilbert’s eyes and got angry. Gilbert thought he was stupid. Alfred wasn’t stupid.
“Don’t do It Alfred. It’s dangerous. I don’t want you to get hurt,” Matthew said. Matthew wouldn’t meet his eyes. And suddenly Alfred felt like an asshole, because it was the first time he actually thought Matthew cares about me.
“I won’t get hurt. I’ve been careful,” Alfred said softly.
“Dad was being careful too,” Matthew responded.
Dad. How did Alfred forget about his father?
Then he realized, Dad must have been a hero too.
“That’s even more reason Mattie,” Alfred said. “I’ll avenge him.”
Matthew looked at him, red eyed. “I guess I can’t stop you,” he whispered. The whole time Gilbert had been looking between them. He finally put his attention solely on Matthew and wrapped his arms around him.
“Put the show back on,” Matthew murmured.
“You sure?” Gilbert asked.
They all went into silence and watched the show. The words droned on and on and Alfred was half paying attention. The other half... he didn’t know what he was doing.
Halfway into the episode Alfred heard the front door creak open. He looked at the door and saw a short black haired teen, probably not much older than himself, cautiously come through the door.
“Um, hello,” he said in a thick Japanese accent. “Are you here with them?” he asked, pointing at Gilbert and Matthew.
“Oh, Alfred this is Kiku. He comes here sometimes like we do. He also goes to our school. Kiku, this is my brother Alfred,” Matthew explained.
“I think we’re in the same math class,” Kiku said quietly.
“We are? Well pleased to properly meet you!” Alfred said, and smiled. Kiku bowed his head.
“If you want to be a ‘superhero’ talk to Kiku. He’s actually doing good shit. Took out a few mafia guys selling poison,” Gilbert said.
“You did? Why were they selling poison?” Alfred asked.
“They were selling illegal drugs, but they were so contaminated that it was basically like poison,” Kiku said. The entire time Kiku hadn’t raised his voice to barely above a whisper.
“It was awesome. I saw the security footage before it was wiped, you were awesome Keeks.”
“Thank you, but it was nothing really. Just doing my part.”
“Anyway, so do you consider yourself a superhero?” Gilbert asked.
“Um... I don’t know how to answer,” Kiku said.
“Like do you actually do good stuff unlike me and Matty, just sitting on our asses?”
“Yeah I guess...”
“Perfect! Alfie here thinks he can be a superhero, as you can see by the getup. So can I pawn him off on you?”
Alfred glared at Gilbert, and Matthew rolled his eyes.
“Can you ask me first?” Alfred asked. Gilbert shrugged.
“I meant that he could take you out and you could fight mafia dudes and shit. That’s what you want to do right?”
Alfred gave in and nodded, he wanted to find out more. But Kiku backed up.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Kiku quickly said. He shook his head and shifted his eyes nervously.
“Why?” Gilbert persisted.
“I work best alone.”
“Bullshit, everyone says that,” Gilbert shrugged. “Just take him out and make sure he doesn’t hurt himself.”
Kiku shifted his weight from side to side. Alfred felt bad making him so nervous. Poor guy.
“Maybe... but I barely know you Alfred.”
“So we can hang out first! You can come over, I have lots of games and stuff we could play. Do you like video games?” Alfred eagerly asked. He had to admit that he was a huge extrovert. Kiku was a bit weird, but he was also kind of cute. Kiku nodded and Alfred grinned.
“God you’re like an excitable kindergartener,” Gilbert laughed. Mattie elbowed him.
“Don’t tease him, Alfie’s sensitive,” Matthew snickered. Alfred flipped him off, making them both laugh harder.
“Go off and ‘play video games’ you two. Matt and I came here to be alone in the first place,” Gilbert said.
“Why did you put ‘play video games’ in air quotes?” Kiku asked. Gilbert giggled.
“No reason,” he said. Alfred groaned. “Now go.”
This is my favorite chapter I’ve written so far. The previous two have had problems, but I think the only problem with this one is that the pacing is a bit off. But I really like it. My mom beta reads my fics and she had the best reaction at this one.
Hope you enjoyed!
Chapter 4: A Wonderful (ly Complicated) Feeling
Warning: The worst poetry you’ll ever read ahead.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Kiku drove them both to Alfred’s house. They didn’t talk but it was a nice silence. Kiku had quiet music playing and Alfred quite liked it. When Kiku would glance his way Alfred would smile, and he would shyly smile back. The way his lips quirked up was undeniably cute. Alfred was so caught up in Kiku that he barely remembered to text Papa that Kiku was coming over. They were literally walking up the steps when Papa texted him back.
Sure, is it one of your friends from school? I didn’t realize you went out. When are you going to be home with him?
Alfred pulled out his keys and opened the door. Papa was sitting in the living room near the door, and jumped when he heard them come in.
“Now,” Alfred said smugly.
Papa laughed came up to hug Alfred. Papa held his hand out to Kiku, who shook it and bowed.
“So are you a friend of Alfred’s?” Papa asked.
“Sort of,” Kiku responded.
“We met at school and decided to hang out,” Alfred lied. “I’m gonna show him my video game collection.”
“Well have fun,” Papa said.
Alfred led Kiku into his room, not giving a fuck about the messiness of it. He felt a twinge of guilt as Kiku almost tripped over a scarf, one that Alfred hadn’t used in six months.
“Sorry,” he said. Kiku waved it off.
Alfred had a pretty old tv in his room from when his parents upgraded. It wasn’t old enough to be a box, but they’d had it for awhile.
Awhile being that it was old enough to take a million years to load. While it booted up Kiku was looking around. Alfred had an impressive poster collection, and he was glad to see Kiku looking at it.
“What’s your favorite anime?” Kiku asked. Alfred smiled.
“I love Naruto! Also Pokemon, I watched as a kid. I like Attack on Titan but it’s too scary so I don’t watch it alone. What about you?”
“I don’t have a favorite. Too many good shows. I like almost all anime.”
The tv was finally on, and Alfred pulled out his box of games. He plopped it on the bed.
“You can choose what to play,” Alfred said.
After shuffling through, Kiku pulled out Mario Kart. Alfred immediately smirked.
“I am the master of this game,” Alfred warned.
“We’ll see,” Kiku replied.
Three games later they were neck and neck, and had each won once. Kiku was just ahead of him and the finish line was just in sight, but Alfred swerved and barely caught a mushroom without crashing, and he claimed the victory.
Kiku put his controller down in defeat, while Alfred did his victory dance. Two out of three games, and Alfred had won.
“Good game,” Kiku said.
“Awesome game!” Alfred responded. He caught Kiku smiling. “What do you want to do next?”
Kiku looked at his feet. Alfred’s brows furrowed as Kiku twiddled his thumbs. What was wrong.
“I actually should be going,” Kiku said.
“I think it would be for the best.”
Alfred’s face dropped. He had been having so much fun; he thought Kiku thought the same.
“Why? Aren’t you having fun?”
“I am, I just...” Kiku sighed. “I don’t think it would be good if we grew closer.”
Alfred didn’t know what to say, so they sat in silence, both looking at their feet.
“Why? I don’t see how this could end badly,” Alfred said, breaking the silence. He didn’t even like what he came up with to say. He was just so confused - he thought Kiku liked him.
Alfred could feel tears in his eyes. It was stupid, he’d known Kiku for an hour, but the tears were there.
“I don’t think you should want to be friends with me,” Kiku finally responded.
“I like hanging out with you Kiku. I felt the best I’ve felt in weeks playing that game with you. I know we don’t know each other that well, but I can tell that you make me happy and that I make you happy. All friendships can end badly. So why stop one from happening just because of some abstract possible bad ending. Take a chance with me.”
Alfred grinned and leaped over to hug Kiku. Kiku jumped back and fumbled around, his arms flailing.
“Sorry,” Alfred muttered, as he pulled away. Kiku’s face was bright red.
Kiku fidgeted for a bit, and then did an awkward little pat on Alfred’s shoulder. Alfred laughed, which made Kiku smile.
“I don’t really hug people often...” Kiku said.
“Sorry. Got carried away. But you’ll stay?”
“Yes. I’ll stay.”
“Yay!” Alfred fist bumped the air. Kiku laughed. And smiled. It made Alfred the happiest he’d been in a while. Even before his dad’s death it had been awhile since he’d felt like that. And it was amazing.
I’ve got a crush on him, he realized later, at night while he was lying on his superhero themed sheets. Fucking dammit.
The last time Alfred had a crush he was like a dumb high school movie protagonist, going as far as to buy the guy chocolates and a stuffed bear on Valentines Day. Only to be rejected and left to cry himself to sleep. So Alfred would be perfectly fine going the rest of high school without crushes. There were more important things to do. Like fighting the mafia that was apparently all around the city.
But he would be doing that with Kiku. They had even made plans to meet up next week. Maybe it would be okay.
He tried to go to sleep knowing that, but he was kept up. Every time he almost had drifted off, he told himself, Congrats me! You’re almost asleep! It just kept him up because as soon as he was thinking his mind was awake. And then every single time his mind drifted to Kiku.
Resigning himself to a sleepless night, he pulled out his phone. His lock screen said 1:16. School was the next day. Fuck it, if he was too tired he could skip.
His lock screen image was very old. It was from two years ago when he went to an aquarium on a school trip. The image was a selfie of him and a whale. Good memories, but Alfred had something to change it to.
He smiled in satisfaction as he opened his new lock screen pic, and saw Kiku’s beautiful eyes. They had taken a selfie together earlier, and now Alfred was going to use it everywhere.
His hatred of romance quickly went away as he did Kiku related activities. He made a playlist dedicated to him, and listened to it as he wrote a poem about Kiku’s beauty. He giggled every time the music sang a lyric that just fit Kiku so well, which was just about every lyric.
Ah, his poem was done!
His eyes make me dreamy
For they look oh so creamy
I like his taste in anime
And he likes mine in the same way
And though today we just met
Him being awesome is something I’m willing to bet
We’ll meet again tomorrow
Until then my heart’s full of sorrow
I know we have the same math class
With him there I don’t think I’ll pass
I hope we’ll be more than friends,
I hope that we’ll be boyfriends
Lov- wait no, that’s too strong...
Like ya Keeks!
It was perfect! Maybe, just maybe, if Kiku liked him back, he could show him the poem.
Ok, a plan. He would tell Kiku before Valentines Day, (which would be easy seeing as it was still a few months away,) and give him a print out of the poem along with some chocolates! It would be perfect.
But he had to take a step back. He put his phone on his bedside table and stared up, suddenly realizing his mistake.
Have I forgotten? Have I forgotten the boy who broke my heart?
4 Years Earlier
He loved him. Everything about him. Granted he didn’t know him... but everything he did know made him love him. His sandy hair, deep blue eyes that turned purple in just the right light, his hypnotic accent.
Ivan was in 10th grade. To freshman Alfred, that was old even though they were technically the same age. He could imagine what his friends would say if he managed to snag a sophomore. But it meant that Alfred had no classes with him. So he caught him in the field after school.
Ivan was reading under a tree. He had his cute little reading glasses on, and his scarf flapped in the wind. Alfred smiled. Butterflies flew in his stomach, and he clutched the gifts for Ivan tight behind his back.
“Hey Ivan,” he said as he got near the tree. Ivan looked up and squinted. He was even cuter when he was confused.
“It’s Valentines Day,” Alfred said, and Ivan remained confused. “And I was wondering, will you be my Valentine beautiful?”
Ivan laughed. And smiled. And clenched his fists. It was a tense moment before Ivan responded.
“Do I even know you?”
“Well, no,” Alfred stuttered. “But- I- I like y-”
“I don’t date people idiotic enough to think that it’s a good idea to approach someone they don’t even know and give them... squished chocolates and a bear.
Alfred looked down, and sure enough the chocolate box was squished from how tight Alfred had been holding it. He felt tears in his eyes.
“Fuck you,” he spat, before turning around and running away before Ivan could see his tears.
He wouldn’t love again. Not if there was any chance they would be a fucking asshat. No, he wouldn’t love again.
Looking back on it he realized he didn’t love Ivan, (looking back on it he was also an idiot,) you can’t love someone you don’t know. He wasn’t in love with Kiku. But maybe if he eventually did, maybe Kiku wouldn’t hurt him?
He banished all thoughts of Ivan; there was no way that Kiku would hurt him like that. Kiku was... Kiku was different. Beautiful wonderful Kiku.
I think that about Ivan, past him would say, but he didn’t think about past him.
He went to sleep thinking about Kiku.
It was hard to write this without laughing, especially the poem.
Chapter 5: Tell Me Something, Anything
Monday afternoon after school. Well, not just Monday. Kiku had to cancel going out due to being sick the entirety of the previous week, but Alfred went to his house to hang out every single day. With each day they grew closer and closer. It felt amazing. And now that Kiku was better, they could finally go out and be heroes!
Alfred didn’t think that Monday afternoon after school was prime time for superheroing, but it meant that he got to see Kiku sooner and that made it fine and dandy for him. He smiled and waved as he spotted his new friend coming out from the school. Kiku started walking towards him, and somehow the fifteen seconds it took Kiku to walk over to Alfred were unbearable. That was attraction he guessed. He put on his widest smile possible when Kiku was finally in front of him.
“I’m excited!” He said happily. He bounced on the balls of his feet. Kiku’s lips quirked up, just a tiny bit.
“I have to say I am too Alfred. It was quite pleasant hanging out with you yesterday. I think it will be nice to work with you instead of alone this time.”
“Thank you! It was also ‘quite pleasant’ for me too,” Alfred laughed. “So what are we gonna do first? What do you do when you’re being a superhero?”
Kiku blushed and looked away. “I wouldn’t really call myself a superhero... it just doesn’t fit me. And as for where we’re going, it depends. We’ll go in my car and I will maybe drive us to an area with some mafia activity, but we aren’t going to get involved.”
“It’s basically your first time Alfred. I know you’ve been out before but you didn’t even know about the mafia. I need to make sure you’ll be okay first. I don’t usually even intervene. I only do when it’s very dangerous. This is just for safety Alfred, okay?” Kiku explained. His voice was hushed and his tone quiet.
“Why are you whispering?” Alfred asked. Kiku furrowed his brows, and pointed around to all the people milling about the school yard. Oh.
Kiku led him over to his car and they got in. Kiku put on the same music from yesterday and Alfred started bobbing his head to the beat. Kiku started doing it a bit too, as Alfred noticed from the rhythmic tapping on the steering wheel as Kiku started the car and took them out of the school’s parking lot.
Kiku turned out of the lot, in the opposite direction from Alfred’s house. Alfred had completely forgotten to tell Kiku to take him home first. Because Alfred had left something crucial at home.
“Hey Keeks, I want to stop at my house so I can get my suit.
Kiku slowly turned to him and stared incredulously.
“You’re not wearing that.”
Alfred pouted and Kiku stared at him, eyebrows raised.
“But it’s cool.”
“It’s impractical. You can’t stand out that much. You’ll be shot before you can say ‘but it’s cool.’”
“You’re no fun,” Alfred whined, and Kiku rolled his eyes.
Alfred didn’t know where Kiku was taking him. They had been driving for almost an hour (thanks city traffic) and Alfred was sure he had seen the same street two times.
“Um, Keeks, where are we going?”
“I don’t know,” Kiku said, blushing. “I didn’t really think this through. Usually I go out for a specific reason, but today it’s just for you. So I don’t know what to do.
Alfred shook his head.
“So that’s why we’re going in circles.”
Kiku bit his lip and played with his hands in his lap while there was a red light. Alfred put his hand on his shoulder, in an attempt to reassure his friend. If he could have it his way his adorable Kiku would never feel embarrassed.
“Is there anything that you would like to do? Are you curious about anything?” Kiku asked tentatively.
Alfred thought, and he didn’t have any specific questions. He didn’t know enough to have a question. He was about to say no, but there actually was something that he wanted to know more about. Something he was so desperate to figure out. He needed answers, and it was worth bringing the painful memories to mind.
“I want to find out who killed my dad,” Alfred said softly.
The more he thought about Dad the more he wanted to throw up. He almost did at the funeral. Closed casket, but he didn’t need to see the body again to remember how his dad looked when he was bleeding out on the floor. God, if he kept thinking about it he would get a nightmare again. The first month after the death he woke up screaming each night after dreams about blood.
What made him even more sick was that there was someone out there who made that happen.
“I think we can do that,” Kiku said. Alfred sadly smiled.
He still wasn’t sure that Kiku was taking him somewhere specific, he made u-turns and backtracked. But eventually they pulled into a parking spot along a long line of shops and restaurants. Alfred blindly followed Kiku into a casual yet beautiful Italian restaurant.
It was strangely empty for a restaurant in the busy city, but the lunch rush had ended, so Alfred could understand it.
A waitress came up to them and started to greet them, but Kiku spoke before she could lead them to a table.
“We want to talk to Lovino,” Kiku said, and the waitress furrowed her brows.
“Uh, I guess so? I can get him.”
She went to the back room, and came out with a man that Alfred assumed was Lovino. Said man was glaring at them, with crossed arms and a tensed stance. He crossed the room with long strides. Kiku bowed to him, and Lovino clenched his jaw and tapped his foot.
“Why are you here?” Lovino spat, in a quick Italian accent. Kiku frowned.
“You know I’m not against you anymore,” Kiku said. Not against you anymore? What did that mean?
“Yes, but you interrupted my siesta. What do you want?”
“As you can see I’m not alone-”
“Yes I have eyes,” Lovino interrupted. Kiku sighed. Alfred glared at him, there was no reason to be so mean to Kiku.
“But anyway, this is Alfred. Alfred, this is Lovino Vargas, he’s the co-owner of the restaurant,” Kiku said.
“Full owner. My brother quit,” Lovino said, lowering his voice.
“Oh... well I know what your situation with the mafia is, and I was wondering if you knew enough to answer some questions that Alfred has?”
Lovino froze up, his eyes wide. His arm snapped out, and clutched Kiku’s wrist. He dragged Kiku into the back room, and Alfred followed them.
Kiku looked surprisingly calm for just being roughly dragged across a room. He stood relaxed and quiet once Lovino let go of his wrist. Lovino however, was slightly shaking. He looked ready to bolt. His hands clenched and unclenched. His green eyes shifted madly.
“Why would you bring up the mafia in front of him! Who even is he! You can’t just say that idiota!” Lovino yelled. The sheer volume of Lovino’s screaming shocked Alfred. Forget him knowing about Lovino’s apparent connection to the mafia, with Lovino’s screeching the whole block probably knew.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking... but Alfred already knows about the mafia. He’s one of us, you can trust him.”
“I can’t trust you, how can I trust him?!” Lovino said shakily.
“We have the same enemies Lovino,” Kiku said calmly. “And remember who I’m keeping safe.”
Who I’m keeping safe? What did that mean? What Kiku said didn’t add up, was Kiku hiding something?
Lovino went pale. He went limp, letting his shoulders fall. Like he’d been defeated. Was that what Lovino was feeling? Alfred was too confused to know.
“What do you want to know?” Lovino asked. His voice made a complete 180, from screaming his head off to a whisper.
“Well Alfred?” Kiku said, turning to him. He was suddenly put on the spot. Why was he choking up? He had never felt that way. Why couldn’t he speak?!”
“Did, um, did you hear of... no did you hear of... my father? Um, Arthur Kirkland? Bonnefoy? Arthur Kirkland-Bonnefoy?”
“He means The King,” Kiku said. Alfred knit his brows. “It was your father’s superhero name,” Kiku said to him.
“Of course I’ve heard of him,” Lovino snapped. His face went white and his eyes softened. He looked away from Alfred. What the fuck was up with this dude? Alfred couldn’t figure him out. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Oh. At least this guy had a bit of human empathy.
“I know what it’s like to lose a father. I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Lovino relented. “I don’t really know much. Really there’s a lot of people that would want to kill him. I’m sorry.”
That was the bluntest anyone had been to him. People were sorry but they didn’t really get it. And Mattie and Papa were too caught up in their own grief to ever help him.
Why did they want him dead? What did he ever do to them?! Alfred thought bitterly. His sweet father. His kind old man.
But Lovino was being honest, and his sudden turn to kindness was needed. Alfred didn’t know he needed it until then, but someone understanding him made the pain a little bit better.
“Thank you,” Alfred mumbled. He hoped Lovino could hear him.
Alfred wiped at his eyes with his sleeves. He needed to know more, he could be emotional later.
“Well, who are these people that want...” Alfred choked up. “Wanted him, d-dead.”
“The mafia,” Lovino answered. Then he rose to his usual tone. “I bet Kiku could tell you more about that. Well Kiku? Have you told him about your time in the mafia?”
Alfred’s jaw dropped. Kiku- Kiku was in the mafia? Were they talking about the same Kiku? The Kiku he knew was a nerdy hero who blushed when Alfred talked to him and made Alfred feel alive. His Kiku had been in the mafia?
“No...” Kiku said guiltily. Alfred then knew it was true from the way his voice dripped off. “I’ll tell you later.”
“So I knew you weren’t trustworthy. Never telling anyone everything. But yeah Alfred. The mafia are sickoes who think it’s okay to kill off anyone who tries to stop them from poisoning innocent people with their drugs, allowing rapists, and killing people. They’re sick. If I were you I would stay the hell away from them,” Lovino sneered. He gave a pointed glare at Kiku.
Alfred slumped in his chair. Really he could have guessed that. But it was hard to hear it said aloud. That people that evil existed.
“I still want to find out who exactly did it,” Alfred said. “I want to bring them to justice.”
They were all silent.
“Do you want to kill them?” Lovino finally asked. Slowly, Alfred nodded. Kiku gulped. “Okay.”
Lovino sat down and drummed his fingers against the cherry wood table. Kiku silently sat down, while Alfred stayed standing with his arms crossed.
“If you really want a lead, there’s maybe someone who would want to kill him who’s not in the mafia.”
Alfred’s eyes snapped to Lovino.
“Ivan Braginsky. Mysterious motherfucker. Technically fights the mafia. But if your father got in his way, he would have stooped to the mafia’s level.”
Ivan. The first guy to break his heart. Figures he would shatter it again.
It was illogical. In hindsight Alfred knows that. But he had a name, a name he already didn’t trust. He latched onto it like it was the truth, because he didn’t know what else it could possibly be.
“Thank you,” Alfred said. “I mean it. Thank you so fucking much.”
“You’re welcome. But remember... don’t do anything brash,” Lovino said.
Kiku and Alfred left the building soon after. They got in the car and Alfred just told him to take him home.
“You were in the mafia?” He finally asked while stuck in traffic. Kiku sighed.
“Yes,” he admitted. “Look, it was a rough time in my life. I was lonely. I met this guy, Ludwig, and he offered me friendship. He ended up pulling me into his world; money, drugs, power. I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, my power is agility. You’d be surprised how far that got me. I was pretty well off, protection wise. Anyway, power was addicting. But I broke free. I broke free Alfred.” Kiku looked at him sadly, the most emotional Alfred had seen him. “It takes strength to do that. Please don’t hate me Alfred. Please,” he pleaded.
Minutes. Hours. Days. Years. Millenia. All of those seemed to pass in one single second while Alfred tried to process everything.
“You, you don’t seem like someone... who would be in the mafia.”
“I promise I’m not. I’ve changed. I’ve changed so much Alfred. You’ve got to believe me. Please.”
Alfred stared at him. God, was the light ever gonna turn green?
Finally, finally it did, and Kiku had to focus on driving.
They were at Alfred’s house soon enough, and he could have got out right then without saying a word to Kiku. But then he would be thinking about it for who knows how long, and he would see Kiku at school anyway. Alfred really didn’t know what to do.
“I need some time,” he settled on. Kiku nodded. “I... just... we’re still friends. But it feels weird. Just let me have some time.
“I understand, I need to regain your trust,” Kiku said. It made sense.
Kiku wiped a tear from Alfred’s cheek.
“Do you want a hug? Would it be okay if I hugged you?” Kiku asked. Alfred nodded.
They got out of the car and Kiku held him. Kiku was obviously kind of uncomfortable, but he had offered and Alfred needed it.
“Is... is this a fight?” Alfred asked. He began to cry into Kiku’s shoulder.
“I don’t think so,” he responded, carding his fingers through Alfred’s hair.
“Then- then why am I crying?”
“I just...” Kiku sighed. “I just shouldn’t have kept it a secret. I shouldn’t have betrayed your trust. I’m sorry. But I won’t do it again. I’ll be open with you.”
Alfred let go of him and held him at arms length, looking him in the eyes. “You promise?”
“Yes, things like this I’ll always tell you.”
“Just things like this?”
“There are things that... I can’t tell you right now. It isn’t the time. But I’ll tell you eventually.”
Kiku pulled him in for one last hug, and then they said goodbye.
He would see Kiku at school tomorrow. They would hash it all out then. But for right then, Kiku’s promise was enough for Alfred to rest easy.
Chapter 6: On My Mind
Kiku had the same lunch period as him. Alfred didn’t even realize it until Kiku plopped his lunch down the day after their... whatever it was.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Kiku asked.
“I don’t know,” Alfred replied.
They didn’t talk about the mafia, but that was probably for the best. They made mindless conversation, that seemed to do nothing important. But Alfred felt relaxed and happy at the end of lunch, so the conversation had done something to brighten his day.
The next day they did talk about it. But Alfred was happy that day, so maybe that was why it was okay.
“It was weird,” Kiku had started. “Almost cult-like. Ludwig, and his friend Feliciano, both seemed like normal teenagers. We were friends. I still have fond memories. I remember when we stayed up all night talking and playing games. It was amazing.”
Alfred nodded along to the surprisingly normal stories. Lunch ended too soon, but they sat in Kiku’s car after school and talked. It was so relaxing.
Kiku ventured into the bad parts of his story; drugs, killing, things he’d seen. But that was them, not Kiku. Kiku wasn’t like the horrible people that would kill someone’s father, fuck someone up forever. Kiku was just a good guy who was misled.
“Have you done... that?” He’d asked after Kiku mentioned the torture.
“No,” Kiku had said. “And I left the scene as soon as it started happening. I couldn’t go to the police because the guy would have known it was me. That’s why I still haven’t gone to them. Need to protect myself.”
Kiku had then looked him straight in the eyes. Alfred knew enough even from his short life to know that they were the eyes of someone who had been through hell. For Kiku to still be such a normal person, that took strength. Strength that Alfred could respect.
Hearing that Kiku had been in such an evil organization had violated Alfred’s morals. But from what Alfred knew, he had changed.
He hoped he was right, and Kiku was a different person.
Wednesday Kiku came to him at lunch with a stack of manga. He asked Alfred what he liked, and Alfred eagerly flipped through them all. There were a mere two out of 15 that Alfred didn’t care for.
“You know me so well!” He beamed at Kiku.
“I was just guessing Alfred,” Kiku said.
“Just guessing! Ha! Well that was an awesome guess!”
Kiku smiled. His smile was simply beautiful.
Wednesday night he had binge read about half the manga, and at Lunch on Thursday he bent over the rest with Kiku so that he knew Kiku was reading and laughing at the exact same words as him.
When they came across a character that looked so much like Ivan it was kinda funny, Alfred finally remembered what Lovino had told him, something he hadn’t thought about since that day.
He didn’t want to think about it. So he didn’t. He simply read the manga and went doey eyed when Kiku laughed.
Friday he and Kiku made plans to meet up on the weekend. Not to go out or anything, just to hang out in Alfred’s room.
And after they made their plans they talked and talked. Quoting anime and making references only they could understand.
They didn’t hear the bell, they were talking so much. Alfred didn’t know that just talking could be so fun. Alfred was late for his next class. He didn’t care; he spent it thinking about Kiku anyway.
Alfred had had friends. He had. But all of them he either outgrew or they moved away. And besides, none of them had made him feel the way Kiku did.
He thought about Kiku so much. Kiku had to be at least 1/2 of everything he thought about. And Alfred was fine with that. He would let himself have his little crush. It wouldn’t hurt anyone, and it felt so, so good.
Saturday he came down and saw Papa making breakfast. The smell was simply amazing.
Papa laid it out on the table, and Mattie groggily came out of his room. Papa had a satisfied smile, the first smile he had that wasn’t laced with sadness.
“Thanks Papa!” Alfred beamed. He sat down and dug in. The three of them sat there, in comfortable silence.
Alfred felt his phone buzz, and pulled it out to read a text from Kiku. He quickly replied, and then sheepishly had to wipe syrup off his screen.
He buried his nose in his phone for the rest of breakfast, ignoring Papa and Matthew in favor of his dear Kiku. After all, they weren’t talking anyway.
He liked Kiku so much.
Later he saw his papa’s tired eyes, once again devoid of light. It had been there at breakfast. Papa had been happy.
Alfred felt like his phone was burning a hole through his pants as he realized that he made it go away.
Papa walked away, and Alfred pulled out his phone; looking at his texts with Kiku. Time he should have devoted to his family.
I’m sorry, he thought hopelessly.
Maybe his little crush could do harm.
Time passed, and soon he had spent a month of his life with Kiku in it. It really put it into perspective. They’d met exactly a month ago.
To be honest it scared him. Kiku had taken over his life. He didn’t have time for anything else, anyone else.
Papa and Matthew. Alfred had to remember. He couldn’t let himself push them out. But not only them. He couldn’t let himself forget.
He told Kiku he was doing something after school. Luckily Kiku didn’t care, they hung out enough that one little night didn’t matter.
Alfred drove to the graveyard. Two and a half months. That was how long it had been since he’d last seen his dad’s face.
“I’m sorry,” he said to the grave. He stared at it for a minute, getting lost in the abyss of his mind. He shook his head and began what he needed to say.
“I... I wish I could say I think of you every day. But I don’t dad. I’m so sorry.”
He was a bad son. He thought about his crush, stupid crush he’d only had for a month, more than his dad.
“I don’t know what to say Dad. I was never as smart as you. I’ll never know enough.
I wish you were still around to teach me. If I knew... if I knew you’d be gone... God I would say so many things. I would do everything we could ever do together. I’d even let you read the poetry you like.”
Alfred sobbed, his salty tears falling on the grave. The the splashes his tears made blended in with raindrops that started coming down. Great. Now he would be wet and cold. He had to stay though, he wasn’t done.
“The world is ugly Dad. I bet you knew that but I didn’t. People never think it will happen to them. But I know better. I wish I didn’t know better dad.”
The guilt weighed down on him like a load of bricks. He felt like collapsing on the grave. He didn’t. But he wanted to.
“I guess I’ll spend more time with Papa,” he said. He wiped his tears away. “And Mattie. Well, I don’t even know if he’s home. But he needs to know I’m there for him. So I’ll spend some time with them, like it’s my last day with them. This has really put it in perspective Dad. A million people die in car accidents each year. Who’s to stop it being them?”
He got up. He wiped his tears away. He was still so fucking tired, scared, sad; so ready to cry. But fuck crying, he was wrong when he came there. It was so hard to grieve. To remember.
But I’ll do it, he thought. I’ll remember you Dad. And I’ll avenge you.
Papa was on the couch, staring at a blank tv screen when Alfred got home.
“You ok Papa?” He asked him. Papa’s head snapped up. He was obviously not ok.
“Yeah. I’m ok.”
Alfred came to sit next to him on the couch, then hugged him. Papa was surprised, but happily hugged Alfred back.
“I love you,” Alfred said, hoping it made up for the two and a half months that he barely said it.
“Je t’aime aussi,” Papa whispered back. I love you too.
“Can we maybe do something together?” Alfred asked.
“Of course. What do you want to do?”
Alfred tried to think of all the things Papa would do with him when he was a kid. So many that all went the same way; Alfred proclaimed it stupid while Mattie payed dutiful attention, Papa just laughing at his kids.
Alfred would pay attention this time.
“You could teach me how to bake?” He offered. Papa smiled, Alfred knew it was a good suggestion.
“Of course mon petit. I would love to.”
Alfred ended up getting muffin batter all over the kitchen and his half of the muffins didn’t turn out so good, but Papa was happy and that made him happy.
The next day Kiku asked to hang out with him. Alfred wanted to, he really did. But that could be time spent with his family, time that they might need with him.
Not wanting to turn Kiku down, he bid his papa goodbye with an ‘I love you’ tacked on. But for once Papa smiled and waved goodbye to him.
“Au revoir, mon petit! Have fun!” he smiled.
“I will,” Alfred replied. “And if you want we can do something together when I get back.
“I would love that.”
That time they hung out at Kiku’s place rather than Alfred’s messy bedroom. Alfred had seen it once, and it was a cozy apartment. All the furniture was traditional Japanese; when he first went to Kiku’s place Kiku explained all about how he had lived in Japan when he was a young child, and kinda went overboard with making a place that resembled his childhood home that he loved so much.
As he walked into Kiku’s abode, he thought of another question.
“Where are your parents?”
The apartment only had one bedroom, and Kiku’s bed was alone in it’s room. No sign of anyone else.
“They moved back to Japan a few years ago for business,” Kiku said. “I was 16 at the time, and we decided it was best if I got emancipated and stayed here. They’re paying for the apartment.”
“Why didn’t you go with them?” Alfred asked. Kiku had gone on and on about Japan last time, wouldn’t he go back there if he got the chance?
“They didn’t want me to. Really, it’s for the best that I live on my own.”
That brought up more questions, but Alfred couldn’t care less. It meant that he and Kiku had a whole apartment to themselves.
“Let’s play some games!” Alfred said. That was what he came there for anyway!
Kiku smiled, and they got to it.
Alfred ended up having his ass handed to him in Mario Kart. And pretty much everything else they played.
“How does it feel losing?” Kiku smirked. Alfred leaned back, feigning shock.
“Such bluntness, Mr. Politiepants.”
“Politie-san.” Kiku laughed. “You always make me loosen up a bit Alfred. I never act the way I do with you. You make me... silly.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call you silly Keeks. You’re one of the most serious people I know. However, you’re also one of the funnest people I know.”
“I’m glad then Alfred. I’m happy we’re friends.”
“Well I’m not happy, I’m super-ultra-mega- happy. You’re probably my closest friend right now.”
“Really?” Kiku looked at his lap. “I mean that much to you?”
“You do! You’re amazing Keeks!”
“I don’t think I’m amazing,” Kiku said quietly. Alfred’s heart melted. He reached his hand, hovered it around Kiku’s chin, silently asking for permission. Kiku didn’t move away, and Alfred gently guided Kiku to look at him.
“I think you’re amazing.”
Kiku smiled and blushed.
“Even if I’m an ex-mafia loner who barely wants to come out of my room?”
Alfred’s eyes widened, he didn’t know Kiku wanted to stay home. Did he even want to meet Alfred sometimes? No, that was ridiculous. Kiku had to like hanging out with him as much as Alfred did.
“You had to bring up the mafia?” Alfred said jokingly. “But yeah. You’re amazing. Even more than amazing.”
“What else am I Alfred?”
“Cute.” Alfred said. Wait, he said that? Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
Kiku was now blushing ten-fold, and hid his face in his arms.
“I’m- I’m cute?” Kiku stuttered.
“Um, yeah,” Alfred gulped.
“That’s not really things that just friends say Alfred,” Kiku said meekly. They met each other’s eyes. The fucking tropes were true, Kiku’s eyes told him everything. Kiku’s eyes gave him courage.
“Maybe I want to be more than friends.”
Kiku’s expression went blank. Alfred was about to panic, did he read Kiku wrong? God what had he done, was Kiku shocked?
Then Kiku took his hand. Still no smile, but Alfred had come to expect that from knowing Kiku for a month.
Kiku squeezed it, gently yet tightly. Alfred clutched his hand back.
“Do- do you want to be more too?” Alfred asked in a shaky voice.
Kiku was silent for a moment. He looked away, and seemed ready to drop Alfred’s hand. But slowly he turned back, and reaffirmed his grip.
“Yes. I do,” Kiku said firmly.
Alfred sighed in relief, and let out a little laugh.
“So... like... do you want to- to date?” Alfred stuttered. Then he laughed at his own nervousness.
“I would like that Alfred.” Kiku smiled. “I would.”
It had taken a month for Alfred’s life to get to a certain place. That place was very specific. In the place, he held grief and sorrowful acceptance of his dad’s death. In that place he had a healthy amount of pain. But he was also happy enough. He had Kiku, now his boyfriend, at his side. And most of all, he had the drive to be a hero.
In that place, he decided that he needed to follow the lead he got from Lovino a month ago. He still had the responsibility to bring his father to justice. So he had to find Ivan. Get him to admit to his crimes. Because who else could it be?
Alfred didn’t know where Ivan’s house was at first. He had no way of finding him. But a few good favors could get him places.
So after a deal with Feliks Łukasiewicz, Alfred and Kiku were standing in front of Ivan’s house, ready for trouble.
Chapter 7: Not His Problem
I know this came out way later than usual. Whenever I write fics I have an initial rush of writing where I’m really excited and can pump chapters out weekly. Unfortunately it might decrease to monthly like it did this time. I’m sorry. I know that’s normal for a lot of fics, but it is less often than I had been doing.
I also had a lot of anxiety showing this to my beta. I kept saying to myself “I’m gonna show her” but I never did because of problems facing criticism. I didn’t end up showing it to her, and I hope that didn’t decrease the quality. I still edited it though.
I need to think about my own mental health as I write this, and that’s why it came out so late.
I’ve also gotten a bit distracted with a new fandom, My Hero Academia! That’s also a reason it’s taken so long, oops.
Though I’ve lost my passion for this, I still have a drive to write it, and hopefully I’ll see it through to the end. So expect another chapter everybody! It might just take awhile.
And now, after the wait, enjoy another chapter.
After The Rejection
Alfred didn’t go to school the next few days after Valentines Day. Once he told Papa of his heartbreak he agreed to let him stay, as long as he emailed someone for the schoolwork. Somehow Papa got Dad to agree to it. But Alfred had to go eventually.
He steeled up and glared when he passed Ivan’s locker on the way to his own. Ivan happened to look up and gave a look that he supposed was supposed to be scary. It looked more like a teddy bear trying to look angry. Damn it, why did Ivan have to be fucking cute?
Steadily more and more of his love turned to hate. More and more Ivan seemed terrible. Now that Alfred wasn’t blinded by a fucking petty crush, he could see all the people that Ivan pushed their heads into lockers, poked with pencils until blood was drawn, and sent screaming away. What the fuck was up? What did the football team do to him?
When someone asked, Ivan replied “American football is stupid, they should know what concussion feels like so they will be more cautious!”
He was joking. A second of silence. Maybe joking? Another second. Probably joking... a long silence. He was completely serious.
How the fuck did Ivan not get suspended?
At that time Alfred actually had a friend. It was rare to have a friend that wasn’t after his cute little brother or did stuff like joke about his weight, even though Alfred wasn’t that fat.
So back to his friend. Tolys Laurinaitis. When he went to chat with him at the lockers, Tolys had a arm swung around his shoulders and a mysteriously bruised eye.
The arm over his shoulder belonged to one Ivan Braginsky.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Alfred spat, and Ivan laughed.
“Tolys is my new friend,” Ivan said in his annoying happy accent. Tolys’s eyes screamed “help me.”
“Um- um- y-yeah, he’s my friend,” Tolys quietly stuttered. He was terrified. Tolys was such a serious but happy person, Alfred didn’t even know that being scared was a thing that he could do.
“Now now Alfred. Don’t want to start a fight!”
Ivan had caused so many without getting punished that Alfred shouldn’t even get in trouble, but Ivan got good grades and that meant that the teachers were on his side. “Such a perfect student!” And the teachers would always get the administration to side with them. Alfred however, was a bit of a troublemaker because he got bored so often. So there was no way Alfred could get in a fight.
Instead, Alfred held his hand out.
“I was going to walk Tolys to class.”
“My class is really close by, I’ll take him,” Ivan countered. He clutched Tolys’s shoulder harder (making him stiffen up even more) and guided him away. Alfred couldn’t even talk back.
Alfred didn’t get to talk to Tolys for the rest of the year. He mysteriously got a new phone, one the same brand as Ivan’s. He saw Ivan draw more and more people in. Alfred started gathering his own people, people that realized that Ivan was a fucking psycho.
It continued for two more years. Ivan was fucking crazy. Eventually he did get in trouble for something or other, but that didn’t stop him. It made Alfred sick. If there were really people bad enough to go do things like rape and murder when they’re older, Ivan was how they started. It pushed Alfred to want to be the opposite; a hero. In a way Ivan was part of the reason Alfred was one of the good guys.
The last time Alfred had seen him was one of the last days of his junior year, Ivan’s senior. Alfred was so smug, he would finally be on the top, everyone respecting him as a veteran of the horrible high school experience. But most of all, he wouldn’t have to see Ivan’s ugly face again.
Well Alfred was wrong. Now he was standing on his biggest enemy’s doorstep, to accuse him of murder.
Alfred from six months ago would never believe he would think that sentence.
Alfred looked around for a doorbell, before realizing there was none. Looking at the place, he wasn’t surprised. Even more run down that the building his father had d... that Alfred had destroyed. It was a tiny shack at the edge of the city, not even a shitty apartment. The roof above the doorstep was broken in half and barely staying above the door with some tape. The siding was entirely cracked. However... there was a nice smell of incense, beautiful curtains hanging in the window, and Chinese lanterns hanging from a few strings attached to the building. It was at least a home, but why did Ivan have Chinese lanterns?
Kiku came up beside him, and poised to knock on the door. He glanced at Alfred and he gave a short nod. Kiku sharply knocked four times.
Echoing footsteps sounded, and then the creak of the door. It opened just a crack, and it definitely was not Ivan who answered the door.
The man was at least a foot, if not more, shorter than Ivan. He had long black hair in a low ponytail, and his eyebrows were knit, like he was more annoyed than confused.
“Are you one of the Jehovah’s Witnesses or something or other?” The man asked harshly in a thick Chinese accent. “I already told the last ones, go away.”
“Um, we aren’t Jehovah’s Witnesses or anything, I uh, think we have the wrong house?” Alfred replied. Shit, now he was embarrassed.
Kiku stepped closer to Alfred, and the man must have been able to see him then because his eyes laser-focused on Kiku in a way that Alfred hadn’t seen outside of anime. The man clenched his jaw and growled, staring daggers into Kiku.
Alfred and Kiku happened to be at a part of their relationship where Alfred was ready to punch anyone who didn’t agree with how amazing Kiku was. So his own jaw set, and he clenched his fists. Kiku put a gentle hand on his fist, trying to calm him down.
“What are you doing here?” The man snapped.
Kiku was silent, and the man apparently didn’t like that. He glanced between the outside and the inside, before seemingly grabbing something from the inside before zooming out and shutting the door with a swish of wind.
Looking down at his hands, Alfred realized the man had grabbed a knife. Alfred jumped back, just a tiny bit. He’d never had a knife pulled on him, well near him, before. He tried to hide his trembling as he imagined what the knife could do.
You have super strength, remember? You could knock him out if he tried to use it, Alfred reminded himself.
“I’m sorry this is a misunderstanding Yao. We thought Ivan Braginsky lived here. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.”
“What do you want with Ivan?!” The man, Yao, screeched. That was the best way to describe the sound he made. The little man was shaking like an angry chihuahua. Alfred stepped back, clutching Kiku’s hand, trying to pull him back as well. Kiku pulled his hand away and raised his arms up.
Alfred had gone from wanting to punch Yao to running away from him.
Looking over, Kiku was an entirely different story. Wide eyes, backing away, and raising his hands in surrender all indicated fear. But Alfred felt like it was surprise rather than fear. There was no tremble or fight. The way that Kiku had talked to Yao told Alfred that they knew each other.
“I didn’t even know you were here,” Kiku replied calmly, in a slightly raised voice.
“That’s not an answer. Why do you want Ivan?”
“It’s a long story, I don’t want to drag you into this,” Kiku said quickly. “This doesn’t concern you.”
Before Alfred had the chance to even think, the door opened and there he was. Ivan Braginsky, in all his shitty glory. Braginsky had a tiny pink panda apron on, (it looked like it was Yao’s size) and the fucking smile on his face matched. That was why Braginsky was a creepy ass motherfucker, his damn “I’m gonna murder you with a smile” face.
“What’s going on here?” Ivan asked cheerily. “I could hear this commotion from all the way across the house.”
Ivan turned his gaze on Alfred and Alfred gave his best death glare.
“Why are you here? I thought I was done with you after high school!” Ivan laughed, the sicko.
Yao looked at Alfred for the first time since Yao had seen Kiku. “You know him Vanya?”
“Yes, we went to high school together. It was... unpleasant. And who’s-” Ivan stopped himself, staring at Kiku. “Wait, is he..”
“Yes. He is,” Yao snapped. “Apparently he wants to talk to you.”
“Well what do you have to say? Now I’m curious,” Ivan sneered. The cute facade was dropped in favor of clenched fists and jaw, twitching hands, pulsing veins. Ivan was angry.
This surprised and chilled Alfred to the core. Ivan didn’t hate; he taunted. He thought he was above hate. The only exception was Alfred himself; Ivan definitely hated him. So Ivan kept hatred for his worst enemies. What could Kiku have done to make him angry?
“Ivan, wait, don’t talk to him. He’s dangerous. Just go back inside,” Yao said.
Maybe Yao knew him while he was in the mafia? Alfred thought.
He was still frozen in place. He told himself he wasn’t in danger, the knife wouldn’t hurt him, why was he afraid of one man with a knife not even aimed at him? That wasn’t heroic! His body was betraying him!
“I’ve changed. I’m not dangerous anymore,” Kiku said.
“Fuck that. You can never change. What you did was unforgivable.”
Ivan came up behind Yao and put a hand on his shoulder. He started whispering into his ear, but it was loud enough for Alfred to know he definitely wasn’t speaking in English. It was Russian.
“Fine. But he’s an asshole, remember that,” Yao said in English when Ivan stopped. Yao slipped his knife into his pocket and went back inside. His eyes were glued to Kiku until the door completely shut.
Somehow Alfred got his limbs to move. He let himself relax and stand tall. He forced a smile onto his face. Like a hero, he would smile in the face of fear! Even if this fear was only an asshole teenager.
Ivan stepped forward, face to face with Kiku.
“So you’re the one who hurt my love?” Ivan said. He curled his lip and snarled. “I kinda feel like punching you right now.”
Kiku was looking the much taller man straight in the eyes. He was standing tall. In that moment Alfred felt love admiration and a hint of jealousy all at the same time.
“What the hell did he do?!” Alfred yelled, coming up and pushing Ivan back. Ivan glared at him. After a moment however, he laughed.
“Well, I don’t think I’ll tell you. It’s always been fun to keep secrets from you.”
That was the last fucking straw.
All the times Ivan laughed at him.
Alfred clenched his fist.
All the times Ivan looked so tall.
He drew it back.
All the times Ivan hurt someone defenseless.
He got his body in position.
All the times Ivan made his blood boil.
He let it all drop.
“You’re not worth it,” Alfred said calmly. “I don’t want an entire fight. I’ll wait to see if I really should.”
“So you’re finally maturing,” Ivan said smugly.
“Guess I am, but you sure haven’t yet.”
Ivan’s lip curled.
“I was wrong. You know nothing of maturity,” Ivan growled. Alfred rolled his eyes in lieu of responding.
“Why are you here?” Ivan asked, after a minute of silence. “I thought I was done with you after graduation.”
“Well... how do I say this...” Alfred tapped his finger against his chin, feigning thought. In reality, he knew exactly how to say it. This was just the way he was doing it. “Guess I’ll be blunt. My father’s dead.”
Ivan stared at him and narrowed his eyes.
“Are you sure he didn’t just ‘go to the store?’ They tend to do that and never come back, you know.”
Alfred flipped him off. He ignored how the words hurt.
“So I was wondering, do you have superpowers?” Alfred asked, nonchalantly. Like asking a friend if they liked a movie. After all, this part was planned as well. Down to Ivan’s reactions. People liked to say that Alfred was dumb, but they didn’t know just how well a strategist he was.
Alfred’s eyes caught Ivan clutching his scarf. The scarf was weird; he hadn’t ever seen Ivan without it. Maybe it was connected to Ivan’s power, if he had one.
“Да... I think I can tell what you’re getting at Alfred,” Ivan said, taking a few steps forward. “I do in fact have a superpower. But I did not kill your father. That’s what you were thinking, right?”
“Yes, that was what I was thinking,” Alfred replied sharply.
“You are an idiot as always. I was on his side, we were both fighting the mafia. Crimes must have motivation Fredka.”
Alfred laughed bitterly. Ivan fighting the mafia? Please. And everything that came out of Ivan’s mouth was bullshit. Like hell would he drop it just because he said “I didn’t kill him.”
“Why should I believe you?” Alfred snarked. “If you were the killer of course you wouldn’t say you did it. I’m not an idiot.”
“Then come back when you have a truth potion,” Ivan said dryly.
“Those are a thing?”
Ivan laughed, taunting him.
“You have a lot to learn. Yes, they are one. Now get off my lawn until you have one. Goodbye.”
Ivan turned on his heel and went inside. That was the end of it. That was... abrupt.
“I know where we can get one,” Kiku said, before turning back to the car. But Kiku gave a sad glance over his shoulder. “I hope we find whoever did it Alfred.”
It all ended that quickly? That had barely taken five minutes. And Kiku was just ready to leave?
Ivan’s not ruled out yet, he thought. But why then would Ivan be so willing to take a truth potion?
Alfred didn’t even know anymore.
After aimlessly staring at the wall, he was going to head back to the car which Kiku was already in. But the door creaked open once more. Yao stepped out. Alfred stopped and turned towards him. Apparently it wasn’t over yet.
“What is your relation to Kiku?” Yao asked sharply. Alfred gulped.
“He’s my boyfriend,” he said slowly. For such a short man, Yao was really intimidating.
“Don’t.” Yao spat. “Don’t date him.”
“Why?” Alfred asked. He glared at the man. He didn’t care how intimidating he was, Alfred was fucking done. All he wanted to do was go home and curl up in his new boyfriend’s arms. Now Yao was just pissing him off.
“Kiku is a terrible man. Stay away if you know what’s good for you.”
Alfred stalked up to him and flipped him off.
“Leave us the fuck alone. I don’t care whatever bullshit happened in your past, but we’re fucking happy.”
Alfred spun towards the car and stomped off, letting the sight of his adorable boyfriend bob his head to whatever was playing in the car make his anger ebb away.
The last thing he heard before getting in the passenger side door was “don’t say I didn’t warn you.”