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Arthur Kirkland, who could count his previous boyfriends on one hand (using three fingers), yes, he would be the least likely to come into contact with a previous lover, and he was proud of that fact; that fact kept a swing in his step, a slight smile on his face as he pushed his shopping cart through the supermarket aisles.
You see, he’d never dated much in high school.
Yes, there was the odd alpha or two that would ask him to a dance event. There had been one in his math class who had just wanted his mother to stop nagging him as to why he had never brought an omega home. There had been the slightly more serious lover of a few months that had left him over what he claimed was Arthur’s annoying habit of correcting every small error of his, well pardon me for helping, Arthur remembered thinking.
And as these thoughts swam around in his head, he praised himself for his quick wit in the face of accidentally coming in contact with anyone from his high school. Hell, just last week he’d dodged his old friend from maths so expertly that he’d treated himself to a drink that night. Yes, Arthur Kirkland was well-versed in the art of not versing- that being conversing- and there was yet a challenge to befall him.
Let there be locusts; let there be plague; let there be anyone, anything, and Arthur would find some way to hide away, whether it be his chatty neighbor prowling in the next aisle, or his rather loud great aunt, or the man he’d dated for two years in high school, or the annoying mailman, the-
… the man he’d dated for two years in high school.
“Excuse me!” Alfred Jones had said with a laugh as Arthur turned into the next aisle, his cart clanging against Alfred’s comparatively more full one. Alfred had then blinked, pushing his glasses a tad bit higher up on the bridge of his nose. “Hey, do I-?”
Never before had Arthur walked backward as fast as he did then, maneuvering his cart into making a sharp turn into the next aisle, because yes, to add on to everything, to add on to all the embarrassment- because it’s not like Arthur had expected to see Alfred bloody Jones in the supermarket-
So naturally, Arthur had been out wearing the aviator jacket he’d stolen from the high school jock when they’d broken up years ago.
It had to be today of all days.
“Hey, hold on-”
In the years Arthur had worn the garment, its scent became unique to him. It had molded into Arthur’s sandalwood and petrichor, long abandoning whatever had come from Alfred, which if Arthur remembered correctly- well, seeing as he was well acquainted with the scent from using that infernal jacket to soothe his heats, ahem- was a fresh, tart, almost appley scent.
Perhaps that was why Alfred had paused in his words after he’d ditched his cart to come scrambling after Arthur, getting Arthur to turn and face him to simply just stare at him in awe. Alfred didn’t recognize the scent.
Apparently, after one last scan of Arthur’s features. “I can’t believe I hesitated for even a second. Arthur Kirkland!”
“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Arthur lied, and he never really was a good liar because Alfred laughed.
“I know you recognize me.”
“Ah, yes, Alfred Jones.”
That was it, Arthur hoped, but of course, Alfred’s blue eyes landed on Arthur’s jacket and he seemed to be having a field day.
“You’re wearing my jacket.” He didn’t even try to bite back his grin.
Arthur frowned, “Oh? Is- is, um, is this yours? I had no idea.”
Lies. Alfred likely detected this because his eyes sparkled with mirth. “I’d ask for it back but in your defense, it looks good on you.”
Alfred had said with a smirk as he leaned against a shelf, like he’d always done.
It was reminiscent of a younger Alfred clad in a football jersey, leaning against the side of Arthur’s locker to ask his boyfriend if he could come to the game. Arthur shivered and blamed it on the air conditioning.
Of course, the younger Alfred had been considerably suaver than the bumbling Alfred who stood before him now, leaning down to pick up the cans he’d toppled with his elbow stabbing into the canned foods formation.
“You’re not the jock you once were.” Arthur couldn’t help remarking with a snicker.
“Thanks, I peaked in high school.” Was Alfred’s snide response, and he smiled.
That smile.
Oh no, no no no. Arthur was not doing this again. “I’m afraid I’ve got some shopping to do, so, it was nice to see you again.”
“Don’t think I’ll let you get away again, Kirkland.” And Arthur found his exhale frozen in his chest because Alfred had said again and he couldn’t possibly be referring to years ago, no, he could not.
Alfred affirmed this with a wide-eyed babble, after no-doubt registering what he’d said. “Uh- I meant with that, yanno, that little backward-running stunt you pulled a few minutes ago?”
Arthur replied with a polite smile. Nervous around the edges.
“God, I-” Alfred paused, gesturing for Arthur to stand still as he retrieved his cart, coming back to look at Arthur almost incredulously, “I didn’t see you at the informal-reunion thing, I was pretty sure you were sent an invitation.”
“I didn’t go.”
“Of course, well,” Alfred snickered, “I never knew you as one to willingly socialize.”
Arthur nodded an affirmative and Alfred continued, “You remember? Not even when we were dating, you’d never come to any of my games, and-”
Silence.
Alfred coughed, “Well, look at us now. Full-blown adults with our own shopping carts to prove it, eh?”
Arthur could argue that he’d been a full blown adult since high school, really.
He’d always been the most mature of their class. The seniors had told him so when he was a freshman, and he’d owed it to his upbringing. Always quiet, brooding, aware.
Alfred, on the other hand, there was a definite improvement in. Besides the fact that he was no longer dressed like the male personification of Axe Body Spray, donning instead a polo shirt-cargo shorts combo (that aged him rather finely, if Arthur did say so himself), he had also somehow become considerate enough to suggest that they catch up after they finished shopping, lest they clog up the aisles.
Arthur hadn’t seen this type of thought back in high school, no, not when Alfred would take to standing right smack in the middle of the hallway, intent on dragging kiss after kiss from Arthur’s lips, a sight that had to be noxious for the other school habitants to have to see every morning.
Arthur wondered if Alfred was still a sloppy kisser.
“So, mind telling me why you decided to rob me of my jacket?”
Alfred had offered to hold Arthur’s bags, and though they were few in number, Arthur could see the slight strain in those arms to carry them in addition to Alfred’s own. Yet, he had insisted and that was that. Arthur supposed he didn’t mind the resulting bulge of Alfred’s tanned bicep peeking out of his sleeve.
Arthur squirmed at Alfred’s question, “God, this is embarrassing, I’ll have you know I don’t wear it often, I saw it in my closet this morning, that’s all-”
Lies. Alfred’s nose twitched, likely recognizing the lack of his scent on the over-used jacket, and if he knew, he didn’t say anything about it.
“-I suppose I never gave it back.”
Arthur remembered just how much Alfred had liked his jacket.
It was funny really. The day he’d bought it, those eyes had nearly sparkled. “Arthur, ya like?” He’d asked with a laugh.
Arthur had looked up absentmindedly, finding his boyfriend leaning against the side of his locker.
It was a nice fit. Fabric zipped taut over that broad chest, making those shoulders look even more regal than they were. Arthur smiled, hand coming to stroke the material, “It looks handsome on you, love.”
Alfred had shrugged it off, “Why don’t you wear it for the day, babe?”
And Arthur had slipped it on, it had felt snugger than it did now. Now, it was rather worn. Arthur supposed it was better that way, more familiar.
Alfred had loved the way it hung loosely off Arthur’s shoulders. So much that he’d put it on his boyfriend every moment he could, pulling Arthur to his chest by the jacket collar, letting their lips linger against one another-
Arthur had remembered that the day he told Alfred it was over. He remembered the look on that face, watching a jacket-less Alfred walk away.
Arthur remembered burying his own face into the jacket he couldn’t bear to give back.
“Remember the day you hid it because I’d apparently worn it every day that week?” Alfred said with a laugh and Arthur blinked.
He remembered now. “I honestly don’t understand how anyone could wear the same thing more than once a week.”
“Hey, all you wore for the year were color-alternations of the same sweater.”
Arthur narrowed his eyes. “Minus the days you insisted on buying me new outfits and sent me to school looking like a miniature version of yourself.”
“Miniature for sure, my neck hurts looking down at you.”
Alfred struggled with his keys, to which Arthur jumped straight to reaching into Alfred’s pocket to fetch them, like they were some sort of old married couple, with Arthur wearing his mate’s jacket like a trophy. Like they hadn’t met after years only a few minutes ago.
Alfred’s cheeks flushed red. “Jeez, Artie, bold as ever, I see.”
Arthur stammered, “I- I was just helping, you dolt!”
Click, click. Alfred dumped his bags into the opened trunk of his car. “Just helping, yeah, remember when you just helped me fix my English assignment and ended up getting me an F because you read the prompt wrong?”
Arthur retrieved his bags from Alfred’s hands, “Remember when I singlehandedly just helped you raise your maths grade ten points to an A?”
Alfred paused and Arthur found himself gazing inquisitively at the change in expression in those, now cloudy with mischief, blue eyes. “Remember when you just helped me get off when my parents were in the next room-”
“Alfred Jones!” Arthur screeched and the laugh that followed from that idiot alpha was loud enough to send a flock of birds scattering from the trees. Arthur buried his face in his hands, recoiling as Alfred reached to grab him reassuringly by the shoulders. “Shut up!”
“I’ll stop, I’ll stop!”
He did stop. Arthur waited until his laughter subsided to look him square in the eye, jaw set in mock annoyance. He waited as Alfred’s expression of idiotic amusement melted into a rueful one. Pained eyes. His grip tightened on Arthur’s shoulders.
“Why did you break up with me?”
Arthur found that he couldn’t respond.
He wouldn’t respond. It was at the risk of having to repeat the same words he’d said years ago, “Alfred, I’m sorry, I don’t need a distraction, not now.”
It was bullshit and Alfred had known it, even then. Hell, Alfred had to have known he was more than a distraction, especially to his boyfriend of two bloody years, he’d dated Arthur for two years and it was an insult for Arthur to say those words, and Arthur knew it.
But what else would he have said? That he had gotten tired of Alfred’s wandering attention, of catching him laughing near the lockers of every cheerleader in their grade. He had gotten tired of racking his brain, thinking of how it would work between two different people planning to go to university in two very different places- how Arthur had foolishly, stupidly, mindlessly, wrongly believed he was falling out of love, when no. No, no, no, on the contrary, it had taken him far too late to realize.
Far too many nights huddled by the aviator jacket he’d stolen from the high school jock when they’d broken up years ago.
And he figured he would tell Alfred one day. He’d wondered what exactly he would say, and then he’d decided he would say nothing at all, because he would spend the rest of his life hiding from him. Yes, that was what he’d hoped would happen.
That resolution didn’t make things much easier now. “I can’t answer that right now, I’m so sorry.”
Alfred nodded like he understood.
He was not the Alfred Arthur had known long ago.
This man didn’t smell of Axe Body Spray. He wouldn’t laugh near the lockers of every cheerleader in their grade, he wouldn’t stand smack in the middle of the hallway kissing Arthur’s lips raw while the freshmen watched and groaned.
“I do have to go now, though, but-” If there was anything about him that was the same, it was the brow that quirked up almost sheepishly, abashedly, like he’d done years ago in Physics. It was the hands shoved in his pockets as he shuffled his feet, stepping back and forth, pacing on a small scale. “Hey, Arthur, would you- would you ever consider, then, maybe… a movie?”
Arthur had said yes then. Yes to the first date, and to the second, third, fourth.
Arthur said yes now. In the form of a slight laugh, a slight nod, and Alfred grinned like it was Christmas morning.
(Arthur would later make fun of him because dear God, Alfred was a sap for having remembered verbatim how he’d asked Arthur out for the first time.)
(He would also make fun of him later having found that despite the fact that Alfred teased Arthur for keeping the jacket, Arthur’s beloved old sweater was later found lodged under Alfred’s pillow.)