Mom’s spaghetti

You weren’t the type to fall in love easily, but just one glance at him was all it took for you to lower your guard. Your cheeks flushed pink, and your mouth fell slightly agape, so stunned by his ethereal beauty, you let it escape your mind that you were in danger. It didn’t help with what he wore either. A tailored suit as white as snow, with a shawl of fur on his shoulders that shimmered in the breeze. And in his left hand, encased in a white leather glove, he clutched a rosewood walking cane with an eagle perched on the handle.

It looked like he fell out of a photo of the Russian imperial family, or a fairytale. But appearances were deceiving, because deep down, you knew this man was as dangerous as he was beautiful.

So why weren’t you running?

“I have a very bad habit, you see. Sometimes, I can be as quiet as a mouse,” He mused, reaching down for your hand. He did it so seamlessly, you hadn’t noticed until he was touching you. And just when you thought he’d be freezing, he wasn’t. “My name is Ivan. A tourist from St. Petersburg.”

His touch felt like the touch of any other man.

It was as though his gloves were made especially for him, because you didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary. And when he meant to kiss your hand, he stopped just before his lips touched you. A symbolic kiss, a more formal gesture than a literal one. Every little detail seemed to make for a perfect cover to hide what he was. It was as if he really was just a human, and with his irresistible charm, you couldn’t find it in you to pull away.

“(F/N),” Your cheeks flushed, letting your hand fall back at your side. “I’ve been here my whole life. What brings you to London though, may I ask?”

Ivan smiled again.

“Is it a bad time to be in London right now?”

A stark silence fell around you two. And to make way for something sinister, something even more sinister than this interaction. It was then did you realize it wasn’t him that made you so uneasy.

It was the whole of London itself.

And as if he’d just awoken her spirit, the empty windows that surrounded you came alive. They watched you from the corners of your eyes, filling you with a sense of dread. Something hungry lurked in the shadows, waiting for the sun to drop. It was only noon, and yet, you’d already begun to fear the dark that had yet to come. That was when you started to wonder. How grim had things in London become for you to feel that way, and what creatures, who were less forgiving than Ivan, were hiding out there, waiting for the chance to strike.

“No,” You said after only slight hesitation.

“That’s alright then,” The man closed his eyes for another relaxed expression. “I was actually hoping you could give me some directions, and it sounds like you’re the perfect person to ask.”

“Where were you headed?” You asked.

“Hampstead.” Ivan said.

The smile you didn’t know you had began to fade.

Hearing your neighborhood of all places was like a cold splash of water, a sudden and hard-hitting jolt back to reality—it didn’t matter how charming, how handsome, or how polite he’d been until now. He was still a vampire, and that truth rang louder than all those qualities. The more you lingered on that fact, the faster your heart pounded and the wider your eyes grew. Had he been putting an act to get you to trust him? It was highly likely.

All you knew was that you weren’t about to lead a vampire straight into the heart of operations.

“What’s the matter?” He asked, his brows coming down for a hard frown. He looked so genuine in his concern, it only made you more nervous, knowing you would’ve bought his masquerade if it weren’t for you coming to your senses. “You look tense.”

“It’s nothing, I just,” You forced out, looking to the side hurriedly. As if breaking away from his gaze would give you the resolve to pull away from this encounter. “I just have to get home before lunch.”

“I see.” Ivan softened his gaze, appearing to catch onto your concerns. “It isn’t safe to be wandering out alone around this close to the night.”

“But it’s only noon,” You said mindlessly, only the second you looked back at him again, you saw that it was indeed night. Darkness had swallowed up the world in the blink of an eye. And his face, which once was so pale under the glare of the sun, now dim under the moonlight. How was this even possible? You took a step back, face contorting with horror. You couldn’t believe it. Or could you?

Because there was no denying what he’d done.

He’d hypnotized you into standing here for hours.

“I hope you find your way.” You uttered out shakily. With that said, you left. Only the further you went, the faster you walked, all until you were running. Then, your face burned up until you could feel the heat wafting off your skin. You were just mortified. How could you have been so stupid? You felt ill, having crossed a boundary with yourself that you never thought you’d cross. Falling for a vampire’s charm, and as a result, putting yourself in such a vulnerable position, you easily could’ve died.

That only begged the question, however.

Why didn’t he kill you?

You didn’t stick around to find out. Instead, you rushed home as fast as your boots could clack.

While you ran, bile rose in your throat until you shed a few tears. You were so terrified of what just happened, or what could’ve happened, you could barely think. But even in your panic, you knew to do one thing: if he really was going to Hampstead, you had to warn everyone that he was coming.

But who was he?

And what was he doing in Hampstead?

Sprinting down your street, then up the porch to your house, you banged like mad at the front door. And you didn’t stop banging until someone finally answered. As the door creaked open, you held your breath for what you thought would be a grisly crime scene.

Only it was anything but.

“I’m not deaf, you know?” Arthur grumbled, only for his disgruntled expression to fall away for a concerned one. You were sweating like a sinner in church, and with how heavily you panted, it was like you’d run all the way home. But that wasn’t what shocked him most. The way you looked at him was as if you’d seen a ghost. Only it wasn’t far off the mark when you were just convinced that your uncle was dead. “What’s the matter? You look dreadful!”

Glancing at the living room behind him, you found yourself gawking at a scene you wouldn’t have anticipated in a million years. And to say it shocked you to your core would’ve been an understatement.

The vampire you had just met was in your home, having tea with Amy!

Here he was, sitting on your couch with a cup of earl grey in his hand, giggling like a schoolgirl with your closest friend as of late. Otherwise, he’d made himself perfectly at home, having draped his fur shawl over one of the arms like a throw.

“(F/N)! Come join us,” She waved you over, “We were wondering when you’d come home.”

“What is going on?” You blinked furiously, exchanging quick glances between the lot.

“Oh, silly me! I realized I never properly introduced him.” Your uncle slapped a hand over his forehead. Making a brisk walk to the vampire until he was standing behind him, he clapped both hands on his shoulders. Then, he smiled proudly at you with his teeth, as if he was the one who raised him. “This is Ivan. The man we’ve all been waiting for.”

That was when it all clicked.

And you were astonished you hadn’t connected the dots sooner. But in your defence, Arthur never mentioned a vampire being a part of the alliance! You wouldn’t have thought of it in a million years, but reality was more progressive than you were. The hints were all there for you to pick up on, if only you hadn’t let your nerves do the thinking for you. A vampire who was strangely kind, heading to Hampstead, and didn’t kill you the first chance he got? He couldn’t have been anyone except—

“My God,” You covered your mouth with a hand. “The other party from the treaty, it’s you?”

“It’s me.” Ivan nodded, as peachy as he could be.

“Oh, then why didn’t you tell me? You scared me half to death!” You exclaimed, marching up to him. He laughed nervously and backed up as you got close to him. It was almost comical how fast your dynamics switched up, but now that you knew he was practically harmless, you didn’t feel afraid of him in the least. But frustrated? Absolutely.

While you looked him up and down, your cheeks grew hot as you recalled your first encounter with him. That was right. Not only did he hypnotize you, he likely put a charm on you too. Whether that second part was true or not, you weren’t going to ask. But regardless of it happening, you had all the right in the world to be upset at him.

Grabbing him by the flaps of his suit, you yanked him down to your level with a frown. He let out a yelp, but that didn’t phase you. “What you did to me back there, you hypnotized me, didn’t you?”

“Ah, I’ve been discovered.” He closed his eyes for a sheepish smile, rubbing the nape of his neck.

“Why did you do that?” You huffed.

“I thought you wouldn’t have wanted to talk to me if I didn’t,” Ivan answered so sincerely, you almost forgave him right then and there. Almost being the key word.

“Now I don’t want to talk to you because you did.”

“Aw.”

“I’m just kidding,” You sighed, only to lunge at him with an index in his face. He shrunk into his neck like a turtle, eyes wide. “Just don’t do it again.”

“It won’t happen again.” He let out meekly.

Turning to your uncle, you mindlessly asked,

“So, has Mathias heard of his arrival yet?”

The question came out of your mouth like a reflex, but in your defense, it was bound to. He was that important. Nothing could be done without him involved, and that had never been a problem.

At least until now.

Because right after you raised the question, you realized you weren’t actually prepared to see Mathias after what happened between you both.

“Yes, in fact he’s coming over right now.”

Your heart sank, and you averted your gaze to hide how wary it became. That was right. Seeing each other was the last thing you two needed right now. With that last conversation fresh in his mind, he would’ve wanted to apologize to you again—but you had a feeling it would only make things worse.

Because the more he prodded at this subject, at you, the more emotional you two would be about each other.

“I see.” You muttered softly.

“You don’t look pleased,” Arthur furrowed his brows. Walking toward you in slow steps, he took a closer look at your expression with a concerned one. You didn’t need a second glance to know what he was thinking. Your uncle never would’ve thought that Mathias could leave you feeing this way, and you weren’t about to burst his bubble. “Did you two not get on well today?”

So you lied.

“We did, I’m just really overwhelmed from today,” You forced a smile. With that said, he visibly relaxed, much to your relief. But the fact that you had to lie about it made it all the more evident there was a problem, this problem being Mathias.

And to solve it, you turned to the one thing that could keep you away from him.

Allen.

Even the mere thought of him was comforting, like he’d just understand everything if you sat him down and told him about it.

Ironically enough, he’d isolated himself from the world with his lifestyle. He spent every day at home, receiving treatments from your uncle without doing much of anything else, let alone stepping a foot outside. But that was exactly what made him feel so safe.

Allen removed himself from the madness that was your lives, and stuck to what he knew as a human being. He of all people would’ve understood that someone like Mathias shouldn’t have been going after you.

You supposed Amy could too, but there was still something different about him somehow.

Maybe it was because he was a man, and he could be that equal and opposing force against Mathias.

He could be your emotional shield, protecting you from developing unduly feelings for someone you shouldn’t have feelings for. But that would imply you had feelings for Allen, which you didn’t.

So why were you so desperate to see him right now?

“So where’s Allen? Is he still asleep?” You asked, turning toward the staircase. You’d been so ready to take off then, but that was when Arthur’s eyes darted away from you, and to something behind you. Then, his face fell. You wondered what it was that frightened him so much, because he even began to back away slowly like a wild animal had somehow made their way into the living room.

Only a wild animal wasn’t far from it.

When you turned around to see what it was, the realization struck you like a tonne of bricks.

Allen was standing in the doorframe to the living room, looking like Hell. His chest rose and fell in heavy breaths like a bull about to charge. But that wasn’t what scared everyone stiff. It was his eyes, wide and glowing. And they were trained on Ivan like he was about to rip into him—only after that night, you knew for a fact it wasn’t just for show.

He was going to kill him.

He stormed at him, raising his arms like he was about to throttle him. But before he could get close enough to do it, you did the unthinkable.

“Allen, stop!” You shoved your hands against his chest. But even that wasn’t enough to stop him from lurching forward—and you, almost getting knocked down. Fortunately, he came to a stop, and you suspected it was only because of you.

Not that that mattered right now.

He ended up standing mere hairs away from Ivan in an intense stare-off, but it was more one-sided than anything. While Allen glared fiercely at him, huffing and puffing in his face like he was about to lose all control, the other stayed perfectly calm.

Ivan didn’t move a muscle, as if he didn’t deserve even a shred of his concern. He just watched him with an unperturbed smile, feeling his hot breath jet into his face.

“He’s a friend.”

“What?” Allen muttered, like he didn’t hear you correctly. Then, he looked down at you, and so slowly, it was tantalizing. You’d never been afraid of him before, but to have him stare at you with the hatred he harboured for someone else—even you felt nervous. “You telling me this vampire here is our friend?”

“Yes, he’s one of our allies from the peace treaty. Mathias called him over,” You explained it as quickly as you could, hoping to deescalate the situation. Little did you know, what you just said only added more fuel to the fire.

“Oh, there’s a treaty now?” Allen’s brows went up in a scathing disbelief. He emphasized the word like it was his first time learning this information—and it was. Not once had he been included in the family plans, and seeing a vampire sitting with his sister was not how he wanted to find out about them.

“We can explain.” Amy frowned at the floor.

“You don’t have to,” He narrowed his eyes for a bitter look. “I know my place.”

And to think he came here to get treatment.

But that was starting to look secondary to a crazy political conspiracy he didn’t even know about.

He brushed past you and left the room. And the instant he knew he was alone, bile rose in his throat. Tears welled in his eyes, which he rubbed away roughly with the back of his arm. He’d never felt so humiliated. So alone. How long you all intended to keep this from him, he did not know, and he didn’t want to. The fact that he found out about it entirely by accident, and not until this bastard was standing in front of him, was very telling.

He swung open the back door and stormed out into the garden.

None of you thought to tell him about it before it happened—not even you.

Wading through the grass, he tried to let the cool evening breeze wash away his anger. But with the thoughts that raced in his mind, that was easier said than done. Maybe none of you ever intended to tell him. Maybe he’d always be the runt of the litter, kept away from the harsh realities of the world. Or was everybody else just out of their mind, accepting whatever life threw at them?

That had to be it, because there was no way he could accept a vampire as one his own.

You followed him into the garden, though it wasn’t long before you found him. He had his back turned to you, only you didn’t need to see his face to know that he was about to break.

“I don’t get it,” Allen laughed, combing his hands through his hair. Only there wasn’t a trace of mirth in his voice. It sounded like he was on the verge of tears, where it was only his desperate laugh that stopped him from crying. “Am I the only one who’s afraid of this world? Of the people and everything in it?”

You couldn’t say a word, staring wide-eyed at him.

“Of all the supernatural?”

After all, what he said was the truth, and nothing but the truth.

“Why am I the only one who’s stuck at home, hiding away from everything?” Allen whispered.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” You felt your face contort. There was so much you wanted to say then, like how he only lived like this because of his circumstances. And how he had too much of a heart to stomach everything around him, and he only shut it all out because he couldn’t bear it.

But that was exactly why he was so isolated, so you couldn’t bring yourself to finish the thought.

“Clearly, there is,” He looked back at you, his eyes burning in hurt. But as hot as his gaze was on you, he still had to look away to hide how they glossed over with tears. “I’m the only one who’s got a problem with reality, and I’m the only one who’s got a problem with a vampire being in our house.”

His voice cracked when he said that last sentence, and hearing it shattered the last bit of resolve you didn’t know you had. You thought you rationalized this decision, and you’d been so prepared to talk him down. But none of that mattered anymore.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, looking down.

“After everything they did to us, how can you accept that?” He wiped his eyes again.

“He’s different. He’s one of us.” You tried to say.

“How can he be different, (F/N)? He’s a vampire.” His face scrunched up in disgust, still keeping his back turned to you.

“He’s part of the peace treaty,” You continued, “He’s one of, if not, the only vampire on our side.”

“Couldn’t we have picked anybody else?”

“There is no-one else,” You exasperated at him. “We have no choice. This is just the nature of war.”

“I came here to escape war,” Allen hissed, turning back to you. His eyes went wide with anger as his whole life seems to flash before them. At that moment, he was reminded of everything he’d ever been through to get to where he was now, and it hurt him more than you could ever fathom. “I came here to get treated for this… Condition. I came here to escape all the people who burned our homes and killed us by the thousands. Don’t talk to me like I’ve never seen a war.”

Realizing your mistake, you felt bile rise in your throat, but you quickly swallowed it down, not wanting to make it about you. “I’m sorry,” You whispered, turning away to hide the tears that welled in your eyes. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

But before you could dwell on it a second longer, Allen pulled you into a hug. And he did it so fast, you didn’t even realize until you’d completely melted in his arms.

In his anger, he seemed to forget how much he wanted to see you. But seeing you cry, or should he say, making you cry, was the rudest awakening he’d ever received. He narrowed his eyes for an anguished look, and he found himself squeezing you as hard as he could without hurting you.

The way he wrapped his arms around you made you drop instantly—his body was coiled so tightly around you, you couldn’t have thought about anything else except him. Soon, you forgot what you were upset about. And eventually, you just let go. Everything you could’ve been afraid of was overshadowed by the feeling of his embrace, the comfort of him.

But he’d take it a step further with this.

Allen pressed a hand into your lower back, getting you to shudder and hang off of his neck. Then, he dug his hands deep into your hair, letting it glide between the crevices of his fingers.

It was a kind of intimacy that exceeded the bounds of friendship, but you didn’t question it.

And neither did he.

It was exactly what you two needed, to be so close to each other there would be no room left for doubt. Not that there had been any to begin with. There was a reason why you were the one who went out to check on him, not anyone else.

Not Amy, not Arthur, but you.

Surely, they cared, but not in the way he needed them to. You were unapologetic about it, getting in his face to do it. You went after him, just like the other night. You were the one who listened to him speak his truth, just like the morning after. You were the one who made him feel seen, treating him a certain way that nobody ever did for him.

And he’d be damned if he took that for granted.

“Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault,” He squeezed you again, “I’m sorry I spoke to you that way.”

“I’m sorry too.” You hugged him back.

“Don’t be, you didn’t know,” Allen replied, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I’m just scared, okay? Scared that I’ll never get better, and scared that everybody I care about will be in danger.”

“I’m scared too.” You whispered into his chest.

“Yeah.” He whispered back, eyes narrowing.

“Are you still angry at me?”

His eyes went wide with shame.

What you said couldn’t have been more further from the truth. If anything, you were one of the only things that made his life bearable. But he reaped what he sowed. Without pulling away from the embrace, his gaze softened with a gentleness he hadn’t shown anyone else—like you were the only exception to the pain that raged constantly inside him. “I could never be angry at you.”

Besides, if he had anybody to blame, it was God.

But since that wasn’t specific enough, he’d settle for someone that was close enough to him.

Someone whose influence was strong enough to uproot all your lives, changing them the instant he walked into them. Someone who sunk their claws into you, dragging you deep into the world of the supernatural. Someone who inadvertently got his sister into guns, someone who called on this treaty in the first place. And that someone was watching him in the garden right now, their blue eyes glowing a few feet away in the darkness, giving themselves away like the unwelcome intruder they were. They were a freak of nature, someone with too much power for their own good.

That was when Mathias stepped out of the shadows and into the light.

He wore an unreadable expression as he noted the way Allen looked at him—his bright scarlet eyes burned into him like he’d wronged him in every way he could have wronged him. This was their first proper meeting, and he already seemed to hate him.

Why, he did not know, but he had an inkling it had something to do with the way he held you.

It was only when you came out of the embrace did you notice that a third person had joined you two. Allen was glaring at something behind you, and you glanced back at it upon instinct.

“Mathias,” You let out, “I didn’t realize you were here.”

“You didn’t realize because he didn’t want you to,” Allen murmured under his breath, but it was loud enough for you to catch. You shot him a look, already sensing a palpable tension in the atmosphere. But he wasn’t looking at you. He was looking at him. Like a wolf protecting his mate, he didn’t take his eyes off Mathias as he moved in front of you. “He was spying on us.”

“I should’ve used the front door. My apologies,” The Dane said, brushing the other off like he wasn’t even there. Walking up to you, he addressed you with the redhead standing between you both like a wall. A wall that had no effect on his urgency to speak to you. “Your father sent for me.”

“I heard,” You replied curtly, averting your gaze. “And you’re right, you should’ve. He’s inside.”

Mathias felt his brows come together. He knew he’d made you uncomfortable back there, but he didn’t think you’d still be cross at him. Or did he simply not want you to be cross with him? The latter seemed more likely as a sense of unease weighed down on his chest. Because the longer he lingered on it, the more he realized that Allen’s aggression towards him was something he could ignore—while your coldness was not.

“(F/N), about what happened earlier. I’m sorry,” He sighed, closing his eyes for a defeated look. “I didn’t mean it.”

“It’s alright, let’s just not talk about it again.” You sighed.

Alarm bells went off in Allen’s head.

For that brief moment, he could ignore being snubbed, because if he heard that right, Mathias did something wrong. It only seemed to confirm every assumption he had of him, that he was guilty under his guise of a white knight. And to think he’d harmed you in any way, it riled him up until he couldn’t stand being on the sidelines anymore. His expression turned heated, and he held a hand in front of you as if to stop you from taking your thoughts home.

“No, let’s talk about it actually,” Allen inserted himself into the conversation, staring at you with an attentive look. “What did he do?”

“Nothing, Allen. He didn’t do anything,” You tried to say.

“Doesn’t sound like nothing,” He narrowed his eyes. “So tell me, what did he do?”

“Mathias, I think you should leave.” You shot the said man a firm look.

“No.” The blonde closed his eyes. He was so calm, it only seemed to add more insult to injury. To not respect your wishes was one thing, but to act like it was his God-given right to be here was another. “I came here to apologize, so that’s what I’m doing.”

“You’ll be apologizing for a lot more if you don’t read the room,” You whispered in an angry hush. Unfortunately, that only made Mathias crack after being so collected. He opened his mouth like he was about to defend himself, and his chest began to heave. “Now is not the time. Go inside now.”

“If you’re not gonna tell me, I’ll just ask him,” Allen decided, diverting his attention to the other man. Once he did, he felt his anger return in a hot rush. Maybe he was oversimplifying the situation by blaming him for all his problems, but he wasn’t in the mood to be forgiving. And from the sound of things, he had every reason to accuse him for this.“He looks like he’s dying to say it anyway. So tell me, Mathias, what are you apologizing for?”

Mathias finally turned his head to him, the first gesture he made to acknowledge him that night. He knew he recognized him when he first laid eyes on him. The werewolf gone rogue the night he and you were ambushed by vampires. He’d been of great help then, and he was grateful for it. But now that they’d met, they’d already gotten off the wrong foot. Maybe it was just bad luck, being caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Or was there something more, like the beginnings of irritation he felt when being questioned?

Because Allen was right about him dying to say it.

But now that he was the one demanding answers, he’d never felt so defiant. Looking away with a frown, he replied under his breath like it killed him to even talk to him. “It’s none of your business.”

“None of my business,” Allen licked his bottom lip and nodded like it was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. So he was holding his tongue to spite him. Not that he’d let that stop him from defending himself. “Everything that involves this house is my business. What makes you think you can decide what happens in our family?”

Mathias kept averting his gaze, but one didn’t need to look him in the eye to tell he was getting frustrated. Maybe he didn’t share your last name, or live under the same roof as you. But that didn’t change who he was, a respected leader and guardian. He was the White Wolf, and he couldn’t fulfill the responsibilities sitting on the sidelines.

But in the same breath, he also wasn’t meant to be so easily provoked by others. It was engrained in his character to be calm and fair, so why did his head spin with anger when Allen said this to him?

“You’re just an outsider.”

“For someone who doesn’t participate in the family business and keeps himself locked up at home, I could say the same to you.” He muttered under his breath. The second Mathias let that slip, his eyes went wide. And he just… Stopped. Even he couldn’t believe what he just said. It was like his mouth had a mind of its own, though that was probably just him coping with the fact that he just lost control of himself. For the first time in his life, Mathias couldn’t hold his tongue, and he let it slip with a poison he didn’t think he even had in him.

And the damage was done.

“You bastard,” Allen hissed, his pupils thinning to slits. He stormed at him before stopping inches from his face, his eyes glowing bright red. As they seared into Mathias, his heart pounded in his ears like he was about to explode. And it was a wonder why he didn’t. He thought he’d been angry before, but this was another level of emotion. A hatred that exceeded far beyond the physical flesh. Bearing his teeth at the man, he snarled this out from the bottom of his throat—and heart. “What do you understand about being an outsider?”

Mathias couldn’t say a word, because he simply couldn’t. He had no answer for him. So he looked away with a frown, unable to return the other’s piercing gaze. He didn’t understand what it was like to be an outsider, and even if he was one, he still had the respect of all the people around him.

At least until now.

He could feel it from him, and he could feel it from you. For that, all his anger melted into a puddle of shame. But even then, he couldn’t own up to it.

“That’s what I thought.” Allen narrowed his eyes one last time. Then, he left, but not without giving him a forceful shove. But Mathias was so strong, he didn’t even move an inch. That only seemed to prove his point even more, how he was a freak of nature. The man was so far removed from human fragility, he couldn’t begin to understand anything about the human experience—let alone a person who’d spent every minute of his life ostracized.

Just when Mathias thought that was the end of it, he turned to you. And when he saw the way you looked at him, his heart never sank so fast. Your scornful eyes burned him like a branding, searing into his mind as an image he’d never forget.

“You went too far, Mathias.” You whispered.

And to think you used to look up to him.

He was meant to be your safe person, someone you trusted wholeheartedly. But that illusion of him as this guardian who could do no wrong was shattered. What came out of his mouth was so cruel, and so targeted, you had to wonder how long he’d been listening in on you and Allen. And if not, everything before that in the house. But to eavesdrop wasn’t even half the offense he’d just committed; it was that he used it against him.

“Allen’s right,” You brushed past him in hurry, “There are some things you don’t understand.”

Him, not understanding things.

Him, making mistakes.

His eyes slowly widened, and his heart began to pound in his chest. Since when did he fall so far?

For the first time in his life, Mathias felt like he was losing control. From the storm of emotions that raged inside him, and from the realization that he’d slipped up. Not once, not twice, but several times. But that wasn’t all. The longer he stood here, the clearer it became that he had his priorities out of order. Meeting Ivan was no longer his priority, but instead, making up with you. If it had been the other way around, he would’ve been inside already. And yet, here he was, still pining away for your forgiveness like a dog who’d misbehaved.

What was he doing?

You left him by himself in the garden that night, but he couldn’t even blame you for it. So there he stood, turning your words over and over in his mind. Mulling over the storm of emotions inside him that couldn’t seem to calm.

If he wasn’t doing those things, he was tuning in on what was happening in the house. You would’ve crucified him for doing it, but he couldn’t help having a taste of what was right there before him. You just met Allen in his room, talking about how much of a disappointment he was. And when the man called him a dog, you didn’t even deny it.

He didn’t know what hurt him more.

The you didn’t defend him, or that he was right.

“I’m sorry about Allen,” You told Ivan back in the living room. He’d taken a seat on the couch again, and he was peering up at you with an unperturbed expression. It was almost impressive how relaxed he seemed to be about everything, even after having his life threatened. But you supposed it was because he had true power, and the strength to restrain himself. “He doesn’t mean it, at least not personally. London has been hard on him.”

Meanwhile, Amy and Arthur waited by the door, about to embark on their first nightly patrol.

“London tends to do that,” He nodded, giving you an assuring smile. “I don’t blame him. I would’ve done the same thing if I was in his shoes, really.”

“Right,” You smiled back, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. Moving to Amy and Arthur’s side, you turned back to the man with an expectant look. “We’re going to patrol the East End tonight. Would you care to join? We could use your help.”

“Go ahead without me. I’ll catch up,” Ivan gave a closed-eye smile. “I still need to talk to Mathias, after all.”

Only he knew he’d already left the premises.

Once the door closed behind you, his smile faded. And he opened his eyes, which were now glowing a bright purple. They were wide and alert like he’d just sensed something. Something was amiss in the neighborhood, and he would find out what.

Perched on the roof of a neighboring house was a shadowy figure in a cloak. It flapped silently in the wind like the wings of an owl, and was made from the darkest shade of black. He was so undetectable, he may as well have been nothing but the night.

But when the stars were blotted out by something unseen, it was him, skulking along the rooftop.

He’d been watching the Sinclair manor for the past hour, noting all the events as a secret voyeur. And he was so pleased by what he witnessed, it was sinful. His blood red eyes creased with a smug satisfaction as his lips went up in a leering smile. The White Wolf, getting worked up over that Sinclair woman.

He almost laughed at the thought of it.

This had to be the scandal of the century, the beginning of his fall from grace. It could quite literally make or break the natural order, which was what he wanted all along. To subdue the likes of a God, who, as of now, was no longer invincible.

He had a weakness like every other mortal, and he found it like a pot of gold sitting under a rainbow. The council would’ve been thrilled to hear that he’d been right, and he could gloat about it all he wanted.

But just when he thought he’d won the battle, a voice interrupted him only a few feet away.

“I have to say, it’s very bold of you to step foot in Hampstead,” Ivan mused with a closed-eye smile.

Jack whipped his head to them. He’d never been so startled, not having sensed their presence at all.

And that spoke volumes for someone with senses as sharp as his—whoever this white-haired stranger was, they managed to get close enough to kill him, and all without being detected. But how? He could sense anything coming at him miles away, but he didn’t even realize they were there until they spoke to him. They completely mask themselves, and he was only aware of him because they allowed for it.

Just who was this man?

They weren’t heavy-footed like a werewolf, whose advance could be heard miles away with how their paws pounded against the ground. But he wasn’t like other vampires either. Because as fast as he was, it couldn’t explain how he could seemingly phase in and out of existence. So he was strong.

And very likely stronger than him.

Now, that wouldn’t have been a problem if they were allies, which he knew for a fact they weren’t. He didn’t know him, which could only mean one thing—they weren’t on the same side. And if they weren’t on the same side, they were enemies.

“This place is infested with werewolves.”

“I could say the same to you,” Jack grinned wryly, doing his damndest to calm his nerves. He couldn’t understand what he meant from what he said—it was a warning, that was for sure. But whether it was given to him out of goodwill or not, he couldn’t tell.

“I was invited though.”

“Why the Hell would—”

“But you weren’t,” Ivan opened his eyes, revealing their deep purple glow. His kind expression instantly disappeared for a foreboding look, and he took a few steps toward him. “You aren’t welcome here.”

Just like that, the atmosphere shifted.

And so did his odds.

“What makes you think you can tell me what to do?” He laughed nervously, taking a few steps back. Every fiber of his body was preparing him to run away, and yet—“Do you even know who I am?”

“I’m afraid I don’t.” The other replied.

“Then that’s your mistake.” Jack grimaced.

“That’s my line, actually,” Ivan walked toward him along the roof, his footsteps as light as a feather.

But his words carried a weight that spoke for itself.

“If I don’t know who you are, then you’re not important. And if you’re not important—”

That was when Ivan grabbed his neck, and squeezed so hard, it shrank half in size. The sickening crack of bones was heard, the sound of him on the cusp of being decapitated. And the pain was so excruciating, he wished he’d really gone through with it. Only he never did, keeping him right on the edge of death.

“—you’re not a threat.”

Then, he was lifted inches off the ground, making it even worse. It hurt so much, he couldn’t even think. All he could do was choke and gurgle, his mouth frothing from everything he couldn’t swallow.

Slowly, Ivan leaned into his face, and got so close, he could feel him stare right into his soul. He didn’t know he had one until now, because the way his eyes burned into him could get even the most heartless to feel like they had something inside them. They were wide with menace, and glowed a cold, white purple of the likes he’d never seen.

“If I catch you here again, I’ll kill you.”

Later that night, Mathias found himself on the balcony of the Big Ben. The light of the clock face glowed behind him as so bright, he blended into it with his white fur. Every now and then, the breeze would blow by and get his majestic coat to ripple like a field of grass in the Scandinavian highlands.

He was in his wolf form, gazing out into London with wistful eyes, or however wistful an animal’s eye could be. From this high up, the city was a serene landscape depicting the pinnacle of human civilization. It was peaceful, where he saw nothing but the faint winking of cars street lamps. It was as if everything that happened down there was just a bad dream. There was no place for anything else, not the smog, nor the ghosts to haunt the city. And certainly not the vampires who tried to take this away. There was only mankind and her creations, which Mathias was born to defend.

There, he reflected on everything that conspired today, and everything that could’ve led up to it.

No matter how he looked at it, it was all because he cared about you. And more than he should’ve for an ally. He’d felt it back at the Elephant’s Head, and he’d felt it just then. This inexplicable sense of sensitivity and quickness to anger that could only be explained by the fickleness of human emotion.

But so what?

Was it truly wrong for him to feel these emotions, or to pursue them? And like humans, wouldn’t having a heart make him even stronger?

Mathias wasn’t sure.

But if he wanted to protect London, shouldn’t it mean something to him? And if he wanted to protect you, shouldn’t you mean something to him? Was it his neutrality that made him strong, allowing him to make fair judgements? Or did it make him weak, fighting for a cause without passion?

Whatever it was, he knew he didn’t have a choice in it anymore. He cared about you, and the way he felt wasn’t something he could shed as like he could his skin whenever he transformed. He just had to be careful not to let it develop further, but he had a feeling that would be out of his control.

The next morning, you made a trip to your local apothecary. Arthur had run out of ingredients for Allen’s preventative serum, so you left the house first thing to get some. And after last night’s fiasco, you were more than ready for a quiet and uneventful start to the day.

There was something wrong with Mathias, but you refused to let that bother you.

Little did you know, ‘quiet’ and ‘uneventful’ couldn’t be the furthest from what you were about to experience, even if there was no reason for it to be anything else. The apothecary in question was tucked away in a tight alley. And that alley was wedged between two quiet streets. And these two streets, lying in one of the quietest parts of London.

Nobody really came here, except for local residents, which weren’t that many to begin with. But all of these details weren’t there out of coincidence.

There were shops all over the city that went out of their way to stay under the radar, even to the point of disappearing. It sounded like a horrible business model, but funnily, they got all the business they needed. After all, they weren’t here to serve the general public—they were here to serve one group exclusively, one with the most discerning of tastes.

So usually, it was just you in the store.

But as you browsed through the items with a small basket hanging from your arm, you eventually came to notice another person in the room. They weren’t here when you walked in, so they must’ve come in not long after. And it wasn’t the owner, who just went to the back for some ingredients that were only available upon request—which you just requested. Perhaps it was another customer, who, by the slim, astronomical chance, happened to be shopping for otherworldly cures like you, and at the same time.

But that couldn’t be it either.

So you hatched a plan to weed them out.

After making a few loops around the store, you noticed them doing the same. It was as if they were trying to keep a distance, and as a result, stay out of sight. So they were hiding from you. But who could possibly have gall, the stupidity, or the reason to do such a thing? Nobody you knew of came to mind—unless they were someone you didn’t know.

Glancing back at him, you caught a brief glimpse of his face before he moved behind a spice rack.

Rectangular-framed glasses, sandy blonde hair, and blue eyes that still had light in them—you quickly recognized him as the yank from a few days ago. And to recognize him could only mean one thing.

He was following you.

Without a shred of hesitation, you burst at him like a storm. Seconds before you made contact with him, you saw his life flash in his eyes. And his mouth, slightly ajar in an awkward expression of fear.

Slamming him against the shelf behind, you pinned him against it with a loud bang. Apothecary bottles toppled forward before falling and shattering at his feet, which got him to screw his eyes shut. But you never faltered, keeping your fiery gaze on him.

Allen nodded before turning around to the coffee machine. With his back to you, you wouldn’t have seen the way his expression faltered. For a brief second, memories of you and him in this very kitchen flashed in his mind. You’d help him make veggie burgers for everyone so nobody would give him shit for cooking a vegetarian meal. And to return the favor, he’d prepare some chicken before roasting it in the oven no matter how much it made his stomach turn.

Sure, he always made enough for everyone, but thinking he was doing it for you made it so much easier.

He dropped a capsule into the hole at the top, shut the lid, then pressed the button to dispense it into a mug. The mechanial whir was so loud, he closed his eyes and sighed out of his nose. As if this interaction wasn’t awkward enough.

Once the machine finished dispensing the shot, he glanced at you over his shoulder.

“You want some milk?”

“Yes please.”

Not that he didn’t already know how you liked your coffee. But a part of him didn’t want to play it into it, because the more he entertained his history with you, well, that part was pretty self-explanatory. He poured some milk into the frother and pressed the button to get it going. It began to hum. If he could just act like you were a stranger, maybe this would all blow over like nothing. Like he never saw you again, like you never saw him again. Maybe he and Alfred could get to bottom of everything in weeks, and this would all be over before he realized he was losing sleep over the way you looked at him the day before.

But that would be easier said than done.

Eventually, the frother stopped humming. He picked it up and poured the foamed-up milk into your mug. Then, he turned around and handed it to you.

“Here.”

“Thanks.” You took it from him and gave it a slow sip, your eyes downcast.

“So…” Allen began. You kept your head down as you drank. “… You got any plans today?”

“Not really,” You replied curtly, not looking up at him. “Usually, I’d be at work, so.”

“Right,” He murmured, lips pursing. He hoped that conversation starter would lighten things up a bit, but he just made things harder for himself. You still weren’t looking at him, and your work. Your store. It made his chest tighten with guilt everytime he was reminded of it, not that he could ever forget. In a desperate attempt to move on from that subject, he let out something he didn’t exactly think through. “Well, Amy and I were gonna head out for lunch later. You’re more than welcome to join.”

“…”

“That’s only if you want to.” He practically lurched forward, eyes going wide. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Why did he have to be so damn polite? Before you could really shoot him down, he quickly added this. “Amy misses you, so.”

At the sound of that, you seemed to relax a little.

“I’ll think about it.” You murmured.

Thank God. Only the relief he felt wasn’t so much about getting lunch with you--he didn’t really care about lunch. It was that you didn’t completely reject him. It made him so excited, he couldn’t help blurting this out. “Great!”

You gave him a funny look.

“I mean, that’s cool.” He corrected himself, nodding. “Just let me know, alright? Or you could just tell Amy.”

“I will,” You smiled softly. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Anytime.”

Noon came faster than he’d expected, and before he knew it, he was walking behind you and his sister on the pavement.

You actually agreed. But as much as he wanted to feel good about it, he knew you only came for Amy.

Not that he could complain.

Ice crunched under his boots at a rhythmic constancy. His hands were buried deep in the pockets of his leather jacket, and his neck was snug in a burghundy scarf. Even then, he still felt the occasional chill run down his spine. But that was Michigan for you. Every inch of uncovered skin, and even the tiniest gap let the freezing air in. And Detroit? It was just like how he remembered it to be.

Now that it was the middle of the day, he could really see it for what it was. With all the vacant buildings, abandoned housing, and grafitti-covered walls, it was a ghost town. A neverending backalley of backalleys. Only people still lived here.

A passerby walked past him, and he met their eyes.

The look behind them was very telling, even if it may have just been him projecting. After all, how wrong could he be? There was a never-ending list of why he left this Godforsaken place, with the failed infrastructure barely just scratching the surface.

How you and Alfred, or any of his brothers managed to keep living in this Rust Belt City was beyond him.

Getting inside the restaurant was like a breath of fresh air; they revamped the place since he last came.

Allen scanned the interior as he followed you and Amy to your seats. He felt like an asshole for thinking it, that this was probably the first semblance of civilization he’d felt in a while around here. But that relief was short-lived. Shortly after getting shown to your seats, a booth, you and Allen scooted inwards on the bench. However, Amy stayed standing at the edge of the table like she had no intention to sit down. You glanced up at her, lips separating ajar. He did too, but he kept his mouth shut.

“I’m gonna head to the bathroom. Be right back.” She dropped her purse on the table in a clatter.

Fuck.

The second she left, silence fell around you both. And it had never been so loud.

Allen reached up to his neck and held it, his lips stretched into a flat line. He also turned his head to the side. He should’ve seen this coming. That he was going to end up alone with you at one point. But at this point, it wasn’t really the tension that bothered him.

It was everything else.

He didn’t forget how he acted this morning. He was still clinging to a slither of hope that you still cared about him, whether he liked it or not. And without Amy to keep you occupied, he had all the reigns to say anything he wanted. If he could just keep his trap shut and not say anything to you, even for only a few minutes, or however long it took for Amy to come back, he was as good as gold.

But he just couldn’t control himself.

“So, you seeing anybody?” He turned back to you, smiling wryly.

He held his breath in the short time it took you to answer, and even though the quiet lasted less than a second, it felt like an eternity.

“Not really,” You replied. “What about you?”

His eyes went round. But before you could notice the way he reacted, he wrinkled his nose.

“Nah. Don’t have the time for it.”

“That’s fair.”

But he couldn’t just take the win.

He found himself insatiable, spurred on by the crazy high he was riding.

“But, uh, you and Alfred seem close,” Allen brought up. He spoke slow enough so that he couldn’t seem too interested, but not to the point that it seemed forced. “What’s the story behind that?”

A smile immediately went across your face, and you laughed out of your nose. Hell, you smiled the widest you had that whole day, and he didn’t know how to feel about it.

To rub more salt in the wound, you glanced down at the table while you did.

So it obviously wasn’t for him.

“Well, like I said, he’s been looking out for me,” You said ever so tantalizingly. “He’s been a real sweetheart.”

“Huh.”

“What do you mean, huh?”

“Nothing,” Allen pursed his lips, leaning back. “He just doesn’t seem like the type.”

“He can be,” You sighed out of your nose and stared him dead in the eye. “He’s changed since the last time you last saw him. But then again, everything has.”

He didn’t even know how to react then. It all came so quickly. You and Alfred, growing up together. You actually getting defensive of him. Then every other thing. That only left two questions on his mind--how much did he miss? And how much did your life get upended because of him? He couldn’t ask. All he could do was the same damn thing he always did.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered through a strained look.

You forced another smile. “For what?”

For what, you said.

Two words never killed himself so fast. He didn’t realize how much he’d staked on his apology until he felt it--being completely and utterly crushed. If you meant what you said, every memory he made with you, good or bad, may as well have never existed. The past just didn’t exist to you anymore. He was so unimportant, you couldn’t even do the least of hating him.

As he came to terms with that fact, a dull ache started in his chest.

And it grew and grew until he felt a lump in his throat.

Did he really mean nothing to you now?

His lips separated agape like he was about to say it, but the words got caught in his throat. And even if he did choose to speak up, he’d lost his chance. Amy came walking back from the bathoom, breath heavy from the quick strides she made. Scooting into the booth next to you, she exchanged unassuming looks between you both.

“What did I miss?” She piped.

You both looked at her, but neither of you could give her an answer.

When you three returned home, he excused himself to go to the back yard. He didn’t have to say it for you and Amy to know. He was going to smoke, which he hadn’t done in more than a year, apparently. You could only sigh and turn away. Amy was tempted to storm out there and put it out, but she stopped herself. After how that outing concluded, she couldn’t find it in herself to do it.

And besides, she couldn’t help thinking it had everything to do with the few minutes that she left for the bathroom.

What happened in that short period that it left things this bad?

As if Allen hadn’t already had his fill, Alfred happened to come home not long later. He’d been standing out in the yard, exhaling a long puff of smoke when he heard the commotion. He turned his head to the window. His brothers had just returned from work, and were all pouring into the kitchen to check on the progress of dinner like the food-focused people they were. You and Amy just pulled out some ingredients for dinner, talking about lasagna.

After a brief moment, Matt and Gilbert left.

But Alfred stayed.

Allen kept his gaze fixed on him as he took another deep inhale from his cigarette, which he had pinched between thumb and fore finger. The end glowed a bright neon orange. He knew how bad cigarettes were for him, but after today, he couldn’t help himself. And with what he was seeing, he may as well have gone through the whole pack. Alfred rolled back his sleeves, like he was about to help you with it. But that wasn’t what got his heart pounding. Nor was it when you reached up to hug him.

It was when he hugged you back, and in such a way that any man who witnessed it would know exactly how he felt about you.

He pressed his hand into the lower part of your back, then swayed you gently from side to side.

Alfred liked you. He liked you in the same way that he loved you. As he came to terms with that fact, his heart pounded so hard, he could hear it coming out of his ears. He’d never felt so angry. So humiliated. Because in that moment, he realized that everything his brother said to him yesterday hadn’t just been to provoke him. That his relationship with you was none of his business, that if he slept with you, he was in no place to say anything.

Alfred wasn’t just trying to piss him off--he was staking his claim on you.

And he was telling him to back off.

That night at around 3AM, Allen got out of bed. He threw on his clothes like he was about to walk out into the freezing cold--a long, skin-tight shirt, a sweater, and his bomber jacket. The things he would do for you was endless, it seemed. So why did it have to be this way? He stared at himself long and hard in the bathroom mirror like he’d find the answers. And he did. It was there in the black circles under his eyes, the chip in his tooth as he grimaced at himself.

It was because he was an idiot, that was why. He was afraid of the world, and so much that he could just vanish. But he never did. Not completely. He lived on in you, and you paid the ultimate price.

He had to fix this.

But even if he did fix this, he wouldn’t expect you to forgive him.

And even if you never found out about it, he wouldn’t tell you. This was his mess to clean up, and he couldn’t bear to have you push him away more than you already did. If he was going to leave you as a stranger, then so be it.

Without making so little as a creak, he trotted downstairs. Once he got to the first floor, he turned his head to the kitchen. A faint light glowed from a spot where he couldn’t see, just behind the wall. It was probably a lamp on the dining table. And it was just dim enough to work with, but not bright enough to alert anybody else in the house that someone was there.

He walked towards the kitchen in slow, cautious steps.

When he got to it, Alfred was staring at him like he’d anticipated his exact arrival. And he was standing by the dining table with a gun in his hand. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach. The way he held it, with his finger in the trigger guard, was like he was about to shoot him. But he stifled back any reaction whatsoever.

“Took you long enough.” Alfred murmured, placing the gun on the table with a light clink.

So he wasn’t going to put him on a shirt after all. But if he did, that would be the day.

He could take his girl and his life all in a span of twenty-four hours.

His gaze fell down to his gun, then to what lay next to it. An intimidating spread of even more guns. Shotguns. Semis. Even a fucking crowbar. It was the perfect collection of everything you needed to murder someone and get away with it. He knew he was going after a bunch of thugs, but this was one hell of a way to pitch a revenge killing.

“What’s this?” He murmured, trying to not let the emotions he felt earlier slip through his voice.

“Pick your blick. I’m only gonna do this once, or else Matt’s gonna notice his bed got moved.”

“Fine,” Allen sighed out of his nose, approaching the table with his head craned like he was window shopping at the farmer’s market. To this day, his older brother still kept the family jewels under his mattress. They were put there along with other necessities like birth certificates and emergency cash. He scanned the lot, then picked up a handgun. “So what’s the plan?”

“When Allen showed up the day after (F/N)’s store got shot up, I knew something was up,” Someone spoke up from the darkness.

Oh, shit.

He and Alfred whipped their heads to the source, eyes wide. Matt walked into the kitchen from the living room, his arms were crossed for the most unsurprised look ever. Oh, fuck. Speaking of family jewels, there couldn’t have been a better sibling to guard the stash than Matt, and that somehow only occurred to him just now.

“You two are gonna go after the shooters.” Their older brother continued, looking from Allen to Alfred. And he did it so slowly, it was tantalizing for the man who received the final word. “How the fuck are you two knuckleheads gonna do that?”

“We were working on that.” Alfred muttered, looking to the side. He’d been so confident, but he couldn’t even look Matt in the eye right now--probably because Matt directed that question at him more than at Allen. He was the mastermind behind it after all, only now that he was confronted for it, he didn’t feel half as smart about it than he did a second ago.

“Does (F/N) know?”

Silence.

“Are either of you gonna tell her?”

More silence. Alfred and Allen glanced at each other, and even though they didn’t say anything, it was written all over their faces. They weren’t going to tell you, and were just hoping for it to blow over by the time you, or anyone, for that matter, cared to ask.

“She has a right to know. It’s her store. If this is gonna come back to her, she should at least know who was responsible.”

“And how’s that gonna help? She’s stressed enough as it is.” Alfred argued.

“So fill her in. Let her know what you two idiots are doing.” Matt raised his brows.

“Hey, at least we’re doing something.” The other snapped, storming at him. Allen immediately followed on instinct, only ever stopping when Alfred did. Holy shit. Since when was Alfred so reactive? He almost thought he was about to swing on Matt for a second, and that he had to invervene.

However, Matt didn’t even budge. He just stared down at the blonde like he was nothing but an insect.

Now, that was the Matt Allen remembered. He took charge of the house with an iron fist, and he wasn’t afraid of anything.

But Alfred?

He was showing a new side he’d never seen before. He’d never known him to be so out of control--so bold that he may as well have been digging his own grave. The fact that he was standing up to Matt of all people was testament to it. Had all the years living in Detroit hardened him and made him this way? Or was it because you were in the equation?

“Unlike you, we aren’t scared to actually make a difference. Not just stand around and play house.”

“Stand around and play house?” Matt snorted. Then, he burst into full-on laughter. And it was the first time either of them had seen him laugh this hard, or laughed at all for the last how many years. Allen raised his brows until he couldn’t anymore, while Alfred’s face that was once contorted with anger began to falter. Once Matt calmed down some, he tried to get these words out through a low chuckle. “You think I’m a pussy just because I take care of everyone?”

“That’s not what I said.” Alfred whispered.

“It is though,” Matt stopped laughing entirely. Then, his eyes darkened into a glare. The change was quite subtle, but Alfred looked terrified. And even though Allen wasn’t the target right now, he still felt intimidated. “I’ve been taking care of this household ever since mom died, and now I’m just trying to make sure none of us get killed. But the problem is, we’re probably already on their list.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Doesn’t matter. If you two go after them, they’ll go after the rest of us.”

“Then what do you expect us to do? Just sit around and wait for that to happen?” Alfred exasperated.

“No,” Matt replied after a long pause. “Let me help.”

Alfred gawked at him, and so did Allen.

Warm, tan skin, striking red eyes, and dark maroon hair--you could recognize that handsome face a mile away. Even when he looked slightly different to how you remembered, taller, older, more mature, there was no other man on this planet that looked the way he did.

But the years had been incredibly kind to him. He’d grown a great deal of muscle, and his features were sharper than when he was a teenager. He was a grown man now, but seeing him seemed to sweep you all the way back to your highschool days.

“Allen.” You let out, letting your hand slip off the door handle. You darted your wide eyes over his face, and he seemed just as shocked to see you. His mouth slowly fell agape, and he leaned back slightly.

“(F/N),” He uttered.

But before any of you could say another word, someone else sprinted at you at a terrifying speed.

“Amy! Oh my God--” You caught her in a hug. Squeezing each other as tight as you could, you both managed to let out a high-pitched squeal at the same time. “It’s so good to see you. I missed you so much!”

“Gah, I missed you too.” She grinned. “The people in California are so soft, it’s crazy.”

“So what’re you two doing here?” You released her, keeping your eyes fixed on her.

“You’ll have to ask Allen that.”

It was only then did you turn to him, and your smile faded as you did.

“Well, we, uh…” The man replied. Before he could give you a proper answer, he laughed breathily--awkwardly. His eyes were glassy, but hid it with a growing smile. “I… I just can’t believe it’s you. How are you? How have you been?”

“I’ve been better,” You sighed, eyeing the floor. “I don’t think you’d know, but my store got shot up yesterday.”

Allen froze. That was right. Your store did get shot up. He knew that better than anybody. His chest tightened, and he began to feel this immense guilt crush him from the inside. But all he could give you was a wince. “I’m really sorry about your store.”

“It’s fine. It’s not like you did it.” You forced a smile.

“Yeah, well--” He took a deep breath before grinning tiredly. “I hope you’re okay. I know things didn’t end great between us, but I still care about you.”

“I’m okay. Thanks for the concern,” You muttered and turned away from him, much to his dismay. That bid for connection he threw out there was left hopelessly in the dark; you didn’t say it back. That you still cared about him. But he couldn’t show it. Giving his lips a tight purse lest he frowned, he reached up to the back of his neck to play it off somehow. “Alfred has been helping me out a lot. Even before… This happened, he helped me run the store. Now he’s letting me crash his place. So… Yeah. He’s been taking care of me.”

“Has he now?” Allen raised his brows.

And speak of the devil.

“Yeah, I have.” Alfred appeared in the hall, his eyes trained on him like he had a bone to pick with him. “So, what’re you doing here?”

His tone sounded a little off when he said it, as if he was trying to goad a particular answer from the other man.

“Uh, just taking care of some business.” Allen replied hesitantly.

“Great. So you can just take your old room and stay away from us,” Alfred said quickly.

Hold on.

“Wait, what?” The redhead’s face contorted.

“Uh, so I’m just gonna go wait by the car.” Amy pointed behind her. Taking a few steps backwards, she eventually turned around and scampered off.

“You heard me. You’re not here to rekindle old relationships, and I’m sure (F/N) isn’t interested either.” Alfred took your hand and pulled you away before either of you could protest. Allen was left gaping at him while you came to terms with the fact that you just got thrown into the mix.

“Alfred wait--” You let out, pulling at his hand. “You didn’t even let me talk to him!”

“Oh, so I’m Alfred now?” He quirked a brow. “And you don’t need to talk to him.”

He pulled you all the way up the stairs and to his room. Then came the bang of his door closing. Allen witnessed the whole exchange with a look of unease, but he couldn’t bring himself to intervene. What the Hell? Since when was Alfred so controlling? He didn’t think he’d ever seen act that way, but to be fair, he probably would’ve beat the daylights out of him if he tried to treat you that way.

But that was then. This was now.

You weren’t his girlfriend anymore, and Alfred seemed to have sank his latches into you in his absence.

That only begged the question, though. You two couldn’t possibly be a couple, right? Judging from how bold he was, it wasn’t completely off the table. He furrowed his brows, turning that thought over and over in his mind. It made his heart race the longer he considered it--his brother, and someone he used to consider his best friend, dating his ex-girlfriend.

If that really were the case, he was no longer his brother--let alone his friend.

That was when Allen heard a door creak open upstairs, followed by the rapid footsteps of someone descending the stairs. Alfred was coming back down, and he didn’t even have to think twice to do what he did next.

He moved in front of the stairs, waiting for him at the bottom.

“You two stay in the same room?” He frowned.

“It was either that, the couch, or your room.” Alfred replied as-a-matter-of-factly, brushing past him.

“Right,” Allen narrowed his eyes on him as he walked back to the living room. “You two stay in the same bed though?”

“Sure.”

“What do you mean, sure?”

Alfred stopped in his tracks. He could admit that he’d been rude to him, and he almost regretted it. But any semblance of that so-called regret seemed to dissipate after these series of questions. Who did he think he was? Waltzing back into your life happened to be a privilege, not a right. And if Allen thought he could throw his weight around here, he was dead wrong.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to care,” He turned around so slowly, it was tantalizing. Then, he narrowed his eyes into a slight glare. “If we decide to sleep together, that’s none of your business.”

Allen hated how he worded that. In the context of this conversation, he knew Alfred just meant sleeping together in the literal sense. But he just made it sound like he was having sex with you. And judging from the obvious resentment he felt toward him, he wouldn’t put it past him to actually do it--love you, fuck you, and everything he used to do with you.

He was dead to him, but going after you? That was going one step too far. It was right then and there did it so conveniently occur to him that it wasn’t really just sleeping Alfred referred to as being none of his business.

“What the fuck, man? I leave town and you go after my girl?” Allen glared, a vein popping around his neck.

“She’s not your girl anymore, asshole,” Alfred shot back, not at all phased by his anger. In fact, it only seemed to add more fuel to his. Walking up to him until he was right in his face, his eyes darkened. “You left her, remember? You left us. In Detroit. And we’ve been taking care of each other ever since. What do you have to say to that?”

But Allen had nothing. All he could do was grit his teeth.

“That’s what I thought,” Alfred scoffed, turning away to return to the couch. But he couldn’t bring himself to take another step before he said this. With his back facing Allen, he glared at him over his shoulder. “If she still loves you, fine. But don’t think for a second that you deserve her.”

Everyone seemed to disperse after that. Allen went to his room, and Amy went to the neighborhood ice rink. She told him that she’d come back once the pots and pans stopped flying around. Very funny, Alfred thought. But a mere ten minutes later, footsteps thudded down the stairs again. It couldn’t have been Allen’s, considering his slower and much heavier gait.

That applied to the rest of his brothers, so that meant it could’ve only been one person.

“What was that?”

Alfred closed his eyes and sighed. He’d been so sure of himself a moment ago, but hearing your voice was like taking a bat and swinging at his resolve. “We were just talking,” He said without getting off the couch, nor looking away from the TV.

And it only seemed to irk you more.

“And you had to pull me away for it?” You folded your arms, raising your brows.

“I thought that would be the best for all of us.” He murmured, still staring at the screen.

“You don’t get to decide what’s best for me. I’m a grown woman.” You marched over to the coffee table, picked up the remote, and shut the TV off. It was only then did he face you, but with another sigh. He didn’t think you’d go so far as to do that, but you were angrier than he thought—not that your cold glare didn’t make that clear enough. “I think I have enough self-respect to not jump at the opportunity to reconnect with someone I shouldn’t be reconnecting with.”

And you couldn’t have been more right. And there was nothing that could possibly justify what he’d done except pure jealousy. But he couldn’t be caught dead revealing that fact.

So he decided that he’d apologize—only you never gave him the chance.

“If you do that again, we’re no longer friends.”

Alfred widened his eyes.

You’ve never said anything like that to him before. When you walked off, he watched you leave with a tightness in his chest that was alien to him. He’d never faced this kind of scorn from you, this complete and utter readiness to dump him. And over what? Pulling you away from someone he thought you hated?

Or was he wrong?

Dinner eventually came rolling around, and it was certainly a meal to remember.

The dining room hadn’t been this full since high school. With all four brothers present, plus you and Amy, there was never a dull moment. Just not in the way the expression implied. Because after the first few niceties and catch ups, the buzz of conversation plunged into a complete and utter silence—save for the clinking of cutlery, chewing, and smacking of lips.

Even Gilbert shut up.

But that didn’t mean nobody was talking, per se. 

Allen wouldn’t stop looking at you in between chews. While he did, there was this tiredness in his eyes that made him look depressed, but in a way like he was used to it. Alfred, on the other hand, didn’t even touch his food. He just stared at you, his eyes round and nostrils flaring. His lips were also tightly pursed--it just looked like he was about to explode. 

Meanwhile, you’ve never been so uncomfortable in your life.

Your chest tightened as you felt yourself crumble under their scrutiny. The only thing keeping you together was the quiet, and not looking back at them. So you kept yourself fixed on your plate, even if you just poked and prodded at your potatoes.

“I can’t watch this.” Amy whispered under her breath, her body and eyes completely still.

“Yeah.” Matt cleared his throat.

Gilbert glanced around the table with a look of unease. He’d never seen the group this tense before. He must have missed the memo, because he couldn’t understand why people were so quiet when they should’ve been rejoicing at seeing two old faces.

Whatever it was, it wouldn’t hurt to start the conversation again, right?

“So, um, how’s the food everybody?” He piped up through a nervous smile.

“Now’s not the time to talk about food,” Alfred replied, keeping his unwavering gaze on you. What he said must’ve struck a chord, because your breathing just got faster, all until he could see your chest rising and falling heavily.

“It’s dinner.” Matt forked a broccoli into his mouth.

“Yeah. What’s a better time to talk about dinner than at dinner?” The albino grinned wrly.

“I’ve got other things to worry about. Just be quiet, will you Gil? Read the room for Chrissake.” Alfred shot the man a heated look, getting them to shrink into their neck.

Right then and there, the last thread keeping you together seemed to snap.

“I’m full.” You stood up, scraping your chair back.

Everyone stopped and gawked at you, while Allen just sighed and looked back down at his plate.

“What?” Alfred’s face contorted.

“I’ll see you guys later. Matt, thank you for the food.” You smiled curtly at the man, who just nodded. Then, without picking up your plate, you tried to leave the room in a brisk walk.

“Come on,” Alfred stood up, scraping his chair back. His eyes were closed for a wince, the first time you’ve ever seen him make the expression. It used to be Allen making this face, but oh, how the times have changed. “You can’t still be mad at me.”

“Lord have mercy.” Amy closed her eyes.

“That’s not up to you to decide,” You muttered faintly, making quick strides out of the room.

“(F/N), please.” Alfred followed you just as quickly. Being that much taller than you, it didn’t take long for him to catch up. You two were in the living room when he grabbed your hand, bringing you to an abrupt halt. But he didn’t pull you toward him, and only just held you there. “I don’t wanna fight with you.”

“I don’t either.” You whispered, not turning to look at him. He would’ve asked why, but he heard the way your voice shook. You were crying. And just the sound of it was enough to cut through every shred of ego he had. His eyes went round, and he slowly released his grip until your hand slipped from his. You reached up to your eyes with both hands, and there, you did your best to wipe your tears--but to no avail. They kept streaming down as you uttered these words, “Why does it have to be today of all days that Allen had to come back? Have I not been punished enough?”

And just when he thought he’d feel a pang of jealousy, he didn’t.

He felt his heart break for you instead, but it wasn’t until you said this did he get crushed.

“I feel like my whole life is falling apart.”

His face began to change, all until it looked like he was about to cry himself. His brows furrowed together so hard, wrinkles formed between them. But before he could shed a tear, he pulled you in for a tight hug. He wasn’t one to feel remorse easily, let alone for someone else. His brothers always called him a selfish, stuck-up bastard, and they weren’t wrong. But in that moment, he seemed to let go of his sense of self, utterly and completely.

“Don’t cry. We can figure this out together, okay?” He whispered, giving you another squeeze.

You and Alfred were inseparable that night.

You slept in his arms against his chest, and he had your head nestled under his chin. His shirt was long forgotten on a nearby chair, and you’d taken off your bottoms for comfort. You’ve never been this close to him before, but you couldn’t question it. Not anymore.

And maybe, this was where you two were headed all along.

But if it weren’t for the fact that you two were meant to be friends, you and Alfred probably would’ve been doing things you couldn’t say out loud. Only you had a feeling he wouldn’t mind. You didn’t think you would’ve minded it either. Not as much as you found comfort in it, anyhow.

Alfred made you feel safe, and the last wall you had with him was beginning to come down.

Meanwhile, Allen kept himself up for hours, replaying today over and over in his mind.

He’d fucked up your life. There was no doubt about it. He was probably the worst thing that happened to you, and the irony was that you were the complete opposite of that to him.

You were the best thing that happened to him.

And this was how he repaid you, by ruining you. As he laid in bed, a single tear rolled down the side of his face and into his pillow. He was the scum of the Earth. There was nobody that could be more pathetic, or stoop lower than him. And you? You were too good for him.

It was better off that you two weren’t together anymore.

So why couldn’t he fall asleep?

Why couldn’t he just let go?

Little did he know, seeing you again would set off the relapse of a lifetime. Drugs, alcohol, sex—everybody had a vice. But this was the kind that never loosened its grip around his neck.

And tonight, he’d kill himself over the thought of you lying next to a man.

Even if this man was his brother.

The next morning, half the household vacated the home to go to work. Usually, you would’ve too, but whether your store would ever open again was up for speculation. Even then, old habits died hard, and you ended up getting up around seven am anyway. You put on one of your old T-shirts, Alfred’s red flannel pants, and a fuzzy robe before getting started with a day of doing nothing in particular.

While you trotted downstairs, it never occurred to you that anybody else was awake. 

Apart from you, it was only Allen and Amy left in the house. Having flown in from Los Angeles, which happened to run three hours behind Detroit, it was still 4 am for them. There was no reason for any one of them to be up so early.

And yet, when you walked into the kitchen, you were met with Allen’s back while he tried to figure out the coffee machine. Your heart stopped, and so did your whole body. You found yourself standing right behind him as he gave the thing a few slaps.

Eventually, it let out a loud whir, dispensing a fresh and steaming hot shot into his mug. 

“Finally.” He sighed.

Once it stopped dispensing, he took his mug in one hand and reached for the milk frother with the other. Pouring some milk into his coffee, he gave it a few stirs before putting the cup up to his mouth. While he took a few gulps, he turned around to leave the kitchen.

That was when he laid eyes on you. 

He pressed the accept button and held the device up to his ear.

“Custom clothing concepts, Allen speaking.”

“It’s me.”

It was only two words, and yet, he could recognize that voice anywhere.

His mouth fell agape, and he darted his eyes around for a bit.

“No way,” He furrowed his brows, turning his head quickly. “Alfred?”

“That’s right, asshole.”

Asshole, he called him. So he was still hung up on him leaving all those years ago. Not that he could blame him. His face fell, grinning nervously as he stayed on the phone. Because if that were the case, why could he have reached out after all these years? Because there was no way he called him just to catch up.

“I need your help.” Alfred breathed shakily into the phone.

He knew that sound. The unsteadiness of his voice, the faint chattering of his teeth. It was the sound of adrenaline, like he’d just witnessed something he shouldn’t have. That, or he was about to kill someone.

And he couldn’t have been closer to the truth.

“(F/N)’s store got shot up.”

Right when he processed those words, his ears began to ring and he just went white. Your store got shot up. It wasn’t unheard of in Detroit, and was almost common.

But this was no coincidence, let alone random.

As he convinced himself of that, he almost lurched over and vomited right then and there. This couldn’t be happening. And yet, it was. His worst nightmare was unfolding over the phone, with Alfred hashing over the details like a raving lunatic. And the more he spoke, the more his suspicions got confirmed.

By the time the call ended, he was so pale, it looked like he was about to pass out. When Amy finally came over to see what was going on, she saw the vacant look in his eyes--that thousand-yard stare she’d always heard about and never witnessed.

Until now.

“Woah.” Amy stopped, her face falling into a frown. “You look like shit.”

“I feel like shit,” Allen breathed, brushing past her to leave the kitchen. Whatever he was about to do next, he couldn’t let her in on more than what he’d given away. So he walked into the hallway--or more like, swayed.

Once he knew he was alone, he leaned against the wall with an arm folded over the top of his head. Did he feel sick because of what happened, what he’d done, or that he knew he’d already decided? To go back? If it was that last alternative, he was as guilty as the fuckers who shot up your store. He was a fugitive with a secret, and if he didn’t fix this now, he would be damned to Hell.

That was when Amy reappeared next to him, her arms crossed.

“You good?”

“I’m better than good,” Allen breathed, slowly turning his head to her.

Then, he narrowed his eyes for an intense expression.

“Pack your things.”

Alfred and his brothers had been kind enough to let you stay with them in the meantime. Living in a house with four bedrooms, there was certainly no shortage of space. Alfred didn’t hesitate to take you there, but first, he had to make a quick stop at your house so you could gather your things. And only the most neccessary things, considering you didn’t even feel safe there anymore.

Throwing it all in a duffle bag, you didn’t look back before running out the front door of your house and jumping back in his car. He sped off the second he heard the click of your seatbelt, jetting down the street and toward his.

Right after Alfred parked the car in his driveway, he whipped out his phone and shot you a quick look. “Just give me a minute.”

“Sure,” You nodded. It was a little odd that he would whisk himself away at a time like this, but you didn’t think much of it.

“Trunk is unlocked,” With that said, he opened the door and climbed out. He then began to punch away on his phone--texting someone, it looked like, and with his back turned to you. Before his face went out of view, however, you caught a brief glimpse of it.

His eyes were narrowed into a cold glare; he was furious.

Whatever it was, it likely had something to do with the events that conspired today. And knowing him, he was probably just trying to figure out what to do. So you let him do his thing, getting out of the car and making your way to the trunk.

Opening that, you hauled out your duffel bag.

Putting the strap over your shoulder, you turned to the porch and proceeded to the front door. Before you could even get close enough to knock, however, it creaked open, revealing a familiar face. An old friend, and he was looking at you like a puppy that got kicked.

To others, Matt would’ve appeared just a little under the weather. But you knew better. His lavender eyes watched you with a solemn, and dare you say, softer gaze. They didn’t have their usual sharpness like he had something smart to say.

“Hey,” Matt held the flyscreen open with one hand, then held out the other to take your bag.

You handed it to him, smiling weakly. Not quite the greeting you’d hoped for, but still an act of acknowledgement nonetheless.

He took your duffle by the strap, then turned around to take it inside the house. It wasn’t exactly light, nor small, but he made it look like it weighed nothing as he carried it with his hand.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” He asked, looking down at you.

“I’m fine, just a little shaken,” You murmured, averting your eyes for a strained expression.

“Had to be sure. Alfred doesn’t always tell me everything.” Matt murmured, and there wasn’t an ounce of mirth in his words. You didn’t question him, nor did you linger on the matter. You’d never say this to the others, but if there was one person who took charge around here, it was none other than Matt. “If you need anything, just let us know.”

Following him into the living room, your eyes went round when you saw Gilbert sitting on the couch.

“(F/N).” He shot up. His face was contorted with fear, and he somehow looked more distressed about this than you did. But he was, after all, the youngest out of all of you. “We heard about your store. I… I’m really sorry.”

“I’m just glad I get to stay here. Thanks for letting me crash.” You smiled assuringly.

“Of course! We’re not fucking monsters,” He grinned almost nervously, walking over. “What kinda friends would we be if we didn’t? We’ve got plenty of room.”

“Yeah, you can take my room. I can just take the couch.” Matt added.

“What? No way! I can’t do that,” You blurted at him.

“Yeah, you could just take Allen’s. It hasn’t been used in a while, so it’s probably cleaner.” Gilbert noted.

Matt raised a brow at him, but didn’t say anything.

However, it was too late--you grew tense all over, and you shrunk into yourself. It was only then did Matt open his mouth, but he didn’t manage a word before the front door opened.

Alfred walked in, tossing his carkeys into a dish. He seemed to have cooled down, his expression now more nonchalant than anything.

“Actually, I think I’ll stay with Alfred,” You decided on the spot.

“Huh?” His eyes flew open. “You wanna stay with me? Like, in my room, or…?”

“If that’s okay with you.” You smiled sheepishly.

“Pshh--sure!” Alfred lit up. Matt turned to the side and stifled an interjection coming up in his throat. He should’ve seen this coming, how his brother was neutral in your book. You were definitely not neutral in his, though. “I mean, why wouldn’t it be okay?”

“No reason,” You chuckled, “I’ll just put my stuff in there, then.”

With that said, you picked up your duffel bag Matt so kindly put on the coffee table and left the living room.

Your footsteps gradually faded as you went up the stairs, and the three brothers watched your feet all but disappear.

“Nice one.” Matt said.

“Shut up.” Alfred murmured.

Climbing up a flight of stairs, you didn’t even need to ask to know the layout of the house. You knew where Alfred’s room was. And you definitely knew where Allen’s was. You made sure to steer clear of it, even if the door was closed. As you walked briskly past the thing, you could see the nametag on it in the corner of your eyes with one missin ‘l’. Alen, it spelled.

It was so him.

Not that you let yourself linger on that.

Once you made it to Alfred’s bedroom, you felt yourself letting go of the breath you’d been holding. Setting down your bag at the foot of the bed, you put your hands on your hips to take it all in. The walls were painted space gray, just how he liked it, and the ceiling still had glow-in-the-dark stars stuck all over it from when he was a kid. They didn’t glow anymore, but it was still a cute touch.

His shelf was also spilling over the edges with all sorts of childhood paraphernalia. Toys he had when he was nine or younger. Books that taught him how to read. It would’ve been strange for a grown man to still have these things out on display, but not him.

Moments later, you heard footsteps in the hall.

Turning to the sound, you visibly relaxed when you saw who it was.

“How’s my girl?” Alfred raised his brows for a rosy grin.

He seemed a lot giddier than he was a moment ago. You didn’t know what he saw on his phone that got him so pissed, but you were glad to have him back. He came in and pulled you in for a big hug, and it felt like a breath of fresh air after interacting with his brothers. It wasn’t so much that you didn’t like them; you loved them.

You and Alfred just had something you couldn’t begin to describe.

He squeezed you hard, and you were pressed so tight against his body, you could feel the shape of his body through his clothes. The warmth of it. But it wasn’t as crude as it sounded. He’d always been a very physical person with you, and you never would’ve twisted his affection into anything it wasn’t. He was your best friend, and best bet that you’ve learnt to appreciate it.

“I’m okay. Thanks for letting me stay in your room, by the way,” You hummed, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek.

You couldn’t see his face then, but his cheeks just tinted the slightest shade of pink.

“Who else was it gonna be?” Alfred quirked a brow, pulling away.

“Exactly,” You chuckled. That was when your expression softened, and you took a step back to wander about the room. He followed you with his gaze, watching you pick something up from his shelf. “I know it seems a little weird and all, but I hope you don’t mind.”

He almost frowned, but he gave you a strange smile at the last minute. “Why would it be weird?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because we’re adults.” You shrugged.

“Are you really gonna say that with my solar system poster on the wall right now?” He laughed out of his nose, getting you look down at your feet with a growing smile. “But it doesn’t matter how old we are. We’re always gonna be best friends.”

You glanced back up at him, your eyes creasing for a tender look. “Yeah.”

“So don’t be a stranger. I don’t know how many times I’ve told you that,” Alfred murmured that last part.

“When have I ever been a stranger?” You stifled a laugh. It was quite the accusation alright, treating him like anything less than the soulmate you’ve found him to be.

But he didn’t budge.

“I can’t think of anything right now, but I remember the feeling,” He explained, pausing for a moment before continuing. His brows came together for a cross between a frown and something else--his eyes burned into yours, but at the same time, held such a deep sadness you almost couldn’t recognize him. “Just don’t, okay?”

“Okay, I promise,” You uttered, your chest tight with a feeling you couldn’t explain.

“Good. Because I feel like there’d be a bit of cognitive dissonance here when we used to take baths together.” He said it all in one breath, turning his head to the side for a dismissive look.

Now that was the Alfred you recognized.

“When we were six!” You exclaimed.

“Doesn’t matter. Still happened.”

“You jackass.”

You decided to hang out with Gilbert shortly after. That gave him the chance to go downstairs for a snack, and he remembered there being quite a few leftover ingredients for some sandwiches. Trotting downstairs, he made his way into the kitchen. There wasn’t a dining room so to speak, because the dining table was placed right there--in the kitchen. Fortunately, it was spacey enough so it didn’t look out of place.

When he walked inside, he almost flinched when he saw Matt sitting at the dining table.

He really was like a ghost, having not made a single sound the whole time he came down here. But he was just sitting there, and with a cup of tea in front of him, not doing much of anything else. Was he really just here to have some tea, or had he been waiting for him?

Alfred didn’t want to know. He thought he was used to this, but honestly, Matt was starting to creep him out with how omniscient he really was. In the end, getting jabbed at here and there didn’t bother him so much compared to this--he could never get anything pass this guy, and he’d already arrived at that conclusion before they even said anything to each other.

In his last ditch attempt to sweep everything under the rug, he went straight for the fridge without acknowledging him.

“Did you call the cops?” Matt questioned, not turning in his seat to face him.

Well, fuck. He slowed his movements, but he eventually opened the fridge door. But who was he kidding? It wasn’t like this wasn’t the first question you’d ask in a situation like this. He just wished Matt didn’t have to be so reasonable sometimes.

“No,” He said, pulling out a bag of bread along with a few other ingredients.

Matt’s brows furrowed, but he kept looking at his tea as he picked it up. No, huh? Giving it a long, thoughtful sip, he placed it back down on his coaster. He certainly didn’t see that coming. But he kept his composure, displaying no change in his expression whatsover.

He lifted his eyes to his brother, who carried on with his mission like he didn’t just say what he did. “Why?”

“They’re not gonna do anything. They never do,” Alfred’s eyes darkened, laying everything out on the table. He forced his hand into the bread bag and pulled out a slice. “This was an act of intimidation. Nobody got hurt, and I doubt we have a lot of evidence. And if there were witnesses, you really think they’re gonna say anything?”

Matt closed his eyes and gave a resigned sigh.

“Exactly. The po-po aren’t gonna pick their asses up to do an actual investigation without their work cut out for them.”

The other man looked off to the side disparagingly. “Detroit’s finest.”

“Besides, they’ve got them all in their pockets.” Alfred slapped a few slices of ham down on his bread, then proceeded with the cheese.

“So what’re we gonna do?” Matt frowned.

“I’ve got an idea.”

“And what’s that?”

Alfred stopped and gave him a wordless stare, pressing his tongue to his lower lip. Matt held him with an unwavering gaze, and it grew sharper the longer he looked at him, until it was practically piercing.

Neither of them had to say it out loud for it to be known.

He had a stupid idea brewing in his mind, and for the first time, Matt didn’t know what it could be. And Alfred was lucky this time. A pair of footsteps was heard outside the dining room. They both took a deep breath and looked away from each other when you and Gilbert poured in, talking about your latest fixations.

But when Matt noticed you two were too busy looking in the fridge to pay them any mind, he gave Alfred another look.

Only Alfred was already looking at him.

And his lips were pursed tightly together like he was trying to hold his tongue.

“Are you sure you don’t want the bed?” You asked him for the third time that night. The day went by in a flash, and before he knew it, he was trying to put you into bed--his bed.

He thought he’d made it plenty clear enough that he wanted you to stop being this way, but apparently not.

He took his glasses off, and when he did, he didn’t know whether he was squinting from his poor eyesight or something else. Heaving out a sigh, he put it in their case and clamped it shut.

“Yes, I’m sure. Now go to sleep and stop worrying about me,” He mumbled at you.

“Someone’s mad.”

“I’m only mad because you don’t listen,” Alfred replied, throwing a blanket over his inflatable mattress on the ground. Flattening it with a few sweeps with his foot, he trotted off to the side where he put his spare pillow. Then, he picked it up, fluffed it up, and tossed it on his bed. “Now if you don’t go to sleep, I’ll climb in there and Dutch oven you.”

“I’m not scared of you,” You hummed.

“You should be,” He licked his bottom lip, jumping on your bed on all fours. You gasped as your eyes flew open. Out of all the times he’d threatened you with it, he was actually serious this time. He contained you with his limbs on either side of your body, pinning you down under the blanket. You began to squirm, but you only squirmed harder the closer he leaned down to you.

With a dark, pleasureable grin, he got so close to your face that you could feel--and smell--his warm minty breath.

But judging from how much he seemed to get off to this, you were about to be in for something far less pleasant.

“I had a burrito today.”

“Okay, maybe a little,” You peeped, hearing him let out out a low, rumbling laugh. That was when he tore your blanket off, and you just began screaming. You tried to push him off as hard as you could, but he was an immoveable object. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, stop!”

Alfred didn’t stop, his grin widening as he got under the covers with you.

But just when you thought he’d let it rip, you heard nothing. And smelled nothing. He just stayed on top of you on all fours, hovering over you with his body. Then, he stared at you, and without letting his grin falter, he started lowering himself onto you.

“No, no, stop that right now--”

All until he put his entire body weight on top of you. And being a two-hundred pound man, it was the closest thing you’d ever get to being crushed to death. You could feel every inch of his frontside pressing down on you, his chest, stomach, and everything under that. But considering that you were being suffocated, you didn’t exactly care that you could feel his dick right now.

“Get your fat ass off me!” You slapped his back.

“You’ve seen my six-pack. I’m not fat.” He closed his eyes contently.

“Doesn’t feel like that right now,” You coughed, “I’m serious, Alfred. I can’t breathe.”

“Oh fuck, sorry.” He immediately shot off you, and you sucked in a deep breath of air. While you panted on the bed, he laid on his side and watched you with a wry smile. You looked kind of hot like this, but that was definitely an inside thought. “I’m guessing you want me to go back to my bed now.”

“Yeah, get off.”

“Alright, fine.”

Allen had to a catch a flight to get to Detroit. The whole four hours that he sat in his seat, he couldn’t loosen his grip on his armrests. He didn’t eat anything either. The churning in his stomach proved too nauseating for him to keep any food down. With the thoughts that raced through his mind, it was a wonder how he hadn’t thrown up already.

He really was going back. After working so hard to get away from Motown, he was going back to clean up the mess he’d left behind. Getting killed wasn’t entirely off the table, but that seemed to pale in comparison to everything else.

Seeing Alfred and his brothers again.

Seeing you.

He wondered what you looked like now. If you looked the same, or looked better. Because there was no chance in Hell that you could go the other way. How you felt about him, if you felt anything at all. It had been a few years since he’d left for Los Angeles, and you were probably completely indifferent to him now.

Maybe you even had a boyfriend.

No, scratch that. You definitely had a boyfriend. Whoever it was, he didn’t even have the right to mope about it. He left you, and this was just the consequences of his actions. What he’d see, what he’d find out--he wouldn’t be able to do jack shit about it.

Even if it killed him.

Once he touched down in Detroit in the afternoon, he rented a car to drive into his old neighborhood. Even while he was inside, he could feel the biting cold seep in through his clothes. He almost forgot how freezing Michigan was. And he didn’t exactly enjoy the reminder--he hated the cold. Sinking into his neck, he tensed up his whole body as he steered.

On the way there, he went past dozens of empty ice-encrusted buildings. Without any windows, they were nothing but hollow structures, howling with fierce winds. The sun also sat low in the sky, casting a dim blue haze over them and making them look ghostlier than usual. He’d always hated this about Detroit. How this city’s most defining traits were all the monuments of wasted potential and dead dreams.

“I fucking hate this place,” He muttered, scanning his surroundings for a brief second before returning his attention to the road ahead.

“It probably doesn’t love you either,” Amy replied.

He shot her a side-eye, but didn’t say anything otherwise. She couldn’t have been more right. Detroit was filled with people he’d done wrong, and he’d start with the people he once held the closest to him.

Not long later, he pulled into the driveway of his old house. The mere sight of it made him so nervous, he felt sick. His eyes were racing, yet somehow unfocused like he was lost in his head. He just looked so anxious, Amy had to stop and ask if he was okay.

But he couldn’t even hear her then.

Climbing out of his car, he made his way toward the porch.

And with every step he took toward the front door, every ounce of pride and confidence he built over the last few years seemed to disappear. By the time he was standing in front of it, he felt as small as the day he left.

And this was without knowing you were the first person he was going to see.