Ex's to Lovers

Chapter 29

In Which The Author Realizes This Comedy Has Suddenly Gotten Dark And Alfred Has Enough

Alfred had never felt worse in his life. He didn't know what hurt worse:

A) The fact that Arthur even thought Alfred  would ever do anything of the kind, to anyone​​​​​​, but especially Ivan of all people, ​

B) The fact Ivan had seemingly guessed what was happening and let it happen, 

C) The fact that Arthur had brought Francis for back-up who was very seriously lecturing Alfred on the need for consent and the criminal action he had (not) done.

Alfred decided it was E) All of the above. 

He might not be the smartest person he knew (That was probably Kiku), but Alfred was always raised to be proper and respectful. He was smart enough to know how to follow basic human decency, and it hurt to think his brother didnt trust him enough to believe that. Arthur was taking turns lecturing with Francis, and Alfred felt hot and uncomfortable, and his eyes pickled. 

"Alfred!" Admonished Arthur, still quite mad, "you'd better listen to me! I can't believe you-" 

Alfred had enough, jumping to his feet and scowling at Arthur. 

"I didn't do that, okay? He hit me because he got embarrassed that I saw some underwear he had on the floor! I didn't touch Ivan!" 

Alfred felt angry and betrayed and hurt, and Arthur faltered, looking unconvinced, and Francis studied Alfred's face. Matthew chose that moment to rap on the door. His concern voice clearly audibly in the tense silence. 

"Arthur? I was speaking to Ivan, I think there's been a misunderstanding!" 

Arthur's cold mask slipped, and Arthur looked like he was still debating whether or not to trust Alfred, and Alfred had enough. He didn't say a word to Arthur, just grabbed the doorknob and slammed the door open, nearly slamming into his twin, who looked nervous and worried. Alfred didn't care, stalking angrily by Mathew, not even glancing at Ivan sitting awkwardly at the dinning room table where he'd been abandoned, and slamming the front door behind him when he left. 

Alfred felt like tears were pricking at his eyes, and he felt humiliated and frustrated and hurt, but he couldn't cry, no, he wouldn't cry. Alfred's feet picked up the pace in an attempt to outrun the threatening tears, but by the time he skidden his mad dash into a halt at the empty baseball park, the tears were already escaping. Alfred felt even more embarrassed and just generally felt worse all around. But no one was around, it was getting dark, and the park was empty. So Alfred sat on the lowest part of the stadium seats and his his face in his arms while he cried. 

Finally, Alfred l'a tears slowed, and he wiped his face with his sleeves, feeling disgusted with himself for his breakdown. He should have stayed home and guilt-tripped Arthur into buying him that new gaming keyboard he wanted but couldn't afford, or something. He should have been tough and cold instead of breaking down like a toddler. Alfred scowled, imagining the awkwardness waiting when he went back, and resolving not to do so. 

"Stupid Arthur," Alfred muttered petutlantly, meaning it every bit, "Stupid Francis, Stupid Mathew, Stupid Ivan!" 

With each name Alfred's voice got louder and by the time he got to Ivan, he'd snarled the name quite loudly. Thankfully, there was no one around to hear his voice. Or so he thought. 

"That's not fair," A familiar voice protested, sounding hurt, "I tried to warn you." 

Alfred froze, having a bad feeling as he reluctantly met Ivan's familiar face, with a small, insincere smile plastered on. 

"If anything," Ivan added on helpfully, "It would be 'Stupid Alfred', da?"