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Much like many of their past, present and future exploits, Alfred F Jones started it.
With all their papers given in for the semester and no inter-District vacations planned between the two of them, it was natural that university life would translate into long, heat-soaked afternoons in their shared bedrooms. Together.
Alfred’s half of the bedroom was chock full of his personality: posters for the chess society, comic book society, District 1 football association, archaeology club, anti-supernatural association, a photo of him in his District 1 football jersey, beaming with the big 50 on the back, a sight impossible to miss against the cork and the poorly made bed and the upside down shoe. A massive superhero themed bedspread and a pillow that remained bare for two weeks until Alfred finally remembered his pillowcase buried underneath a pile of crumpled clothes and slipped it on.
Arthur’s half of the bedroom, despite being forced to share the same beige wallpaper and unattractive gray carpet, was far more well maintained. A clip-on light on his much more bare corkboard shone onto his bed, hovering just above his glasses case. A neatly highlighted schedule, along with emergency phone numbers pinned underneath that Alfred always had to kneel onto the bed to call when some drunk guys started yelling outside their dorm at two in the morning. Laptop positioned to cushion his textbooks. A cup with tea marks covering the inside bearing the insignia of Arthur’s favourite football team - the normal variant, not the District 1 version. Different in every way.
And yet, inseparable.
For as long as Alfred had been in love with Arthur, and Arthur not in love with Alfred, Alfred had seen him struggle and fight for something that was so clearly his. But Arthur wouldn’t listen, as usual. If the smell of burning scones and the memory of bandaging his bruised knees when they were still children was anything to go by, that wouldn’t change.
Perhaps it was because of the fact that Alfred was getting more and more serious about his ascendancy to District 1’s Big Five chair one day, or he needed to make up an excuse to spend more meaningful time with Arthur. Or that he could tell Arthur was getting progressively more restless by the fact that District 44 had not appointed him to the role of Lord, and he needed to add something else to his repertoire to convince his seniors.
The current game was boring and unexciting. To Alfred, at least, when he was rewatching tapes of card games by the current district leaders. They used a simple pack of playing cards with no sort of complexity whatsoever. A few tricks, maybe, like how the young leader of District 86 was adept at shuffling cards or how the elderly District 33 was still good at calling bluffs despite her age, but other than that, nothing fun nor exciting. Nothing approaching the level of entertainment Alfred craved.
The seats of the Big Five had stayed stationary, unchanging in the past fifty years. Alfred wanted to become a new wind of change blowing into the expensive ballroom of Maplewood where all the games were hosted, and what better way to do that than to change the rules of the game entirely?
So he and Arthur had been studying the game for the last two months. The most time consuming part was not figuring out the card game the Big Five were currently playing, but more so what they weren’t. Alfred suggested flashy pictures of the various districts, Arthur figured out how to format the cards so they could handle information and said images, Alfred did all the naming. Arthur brought in the dice and by the time Alfred skipped outside of their dorm to buy them snacks and daydream about the green in Arthur’s eyes, he’d drafted up an entire game system, which had stung Alfred a little bit. After all, they’d been talking about the topic for a while, and Arthur hadn’t ever shown the game system to him until now…
“What is it?” Arthur looked up at Alfred, not like he understood how deeply those eyes spoke to him, peering at him underneath thick eyebrows and scruffy blond hair. “Isn’t this the game system you wanted?”
“Y-Yeah, I guess,” Alfred slung down the bag of snacks onto his bed, where they’d parked the makeshift table in front of. He ran his hands through his honey blond hair as he tried to search for a way to explain what he felt without giving away his feelings.
Because Alfred had been in love with Arthur, ever since they were kids. And Arthur did not feel the same way. Almost a decade of longing had taught him that. When they were still growing up, Alfred understood, but now he was sure it was something beyond a puppy crush, to have Arthur treat him as if he were a younger sibling or a mentee was…
Was it because Arthur didn’t think of himself as a successor like Alfred did? It didn’t matter to him if the collective leaders of District 44 had a brain aneurysm didn’t appoint Arthur and his hard work to the position. Arthur cared more about the district than the other three that were somehow in contention. Alfred didn’t get it.
“What is it?” Arthur scowled at him as he picked up the bag, rifling in it for the sour cream and onion pack before taking a crisp. “What are you staring at me for?”
“I…I don’t know. It’s nothing serious. I just thought we’d do it together.”
“Pardon? We are doing it together.” Arthur crunched loudly. “As you wanted.”
Alfred felt his jaw clench. “Not when you just happened to have a whole ass plan written up for when I dipped out for twenty minutes-”
“Who’s the one who procrastinates on all his written assignments and finishes them three hours before the due date while whining and keeping me up all night, and then gets near full marks?” Arthur crunched on another crisp. “Finally you’re taking a bite of your own medicine.”
“Shit like that isn’t important,” Alfred got to his feet, pacing around the makeshift table, blue eyes going over Arthur’s game system sheet. It had tables, diagrams, listed rules, even a mockup of a card that was suspiciously similar to the ones they’d talked about excitedly a couple days ago. “This stuff, with the Big Five and the leading of the districts, is. Won’t you say so?”
“As I told you, it would be best to focus on our studies when our successors are not ready to give us their chairs,” Arthur retorted. “This ‘shit’ as you so eloquently put it is not above you, young master.”
“Whatever, I can just, ugh. This is something I wanted us to do together! And you’ve put together a whole ass plan, as I said.”
Snorting, Arthur turned away from him. “Now, if only you’d-”
Alfred threw up his hands. “You’re always telling me this and that, when you’re not even elected Lord in your district. Can’t you just hear me out a little more?”
He knew it would sting the young master where it would hurt the most. Other than the fact that Alfred was due to become Hero eventually and he’d return to District 1 when the current Hero summoned him to her seat in the future, the two of them were matched in almost every way. Alfred had found out through his…contacts that Arthur was due to attend Oxbridge in the heart of District 44. The most prestigious institution in a district already well renowned for their universities. Practically every district leader who conducted their business worth a damn would attend Oxbridge at some point in their lives, preferably now. Arthur was twenty two to Alfred’s nineteen now, but the Lord of District 44 had not budged in the slightest in appointing a solid successor, leaving his future in limbo.
But Alfred knew that Arthur would become the leader of his district eventually. It was only a matter of time. Arthur was too cynical and jaded from years of infighting that even Alfred didn’t know about, and he wouldn’t accept it, no matter how much Alfred annoyed him about it. Maybe he’d continue to alienate Arthur, but without being able to tell Arthur that he’d enrolled in Oxbridge and lobbied to room with him despite him being perfectly able to get an ensuite, Alfred was stuck. How could he tell Arthur that he’d enrolled here, speeding up his studies just to be with him, without making the other boy disgusted?
Maybe it was too late already, given how Arthur flinched, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his freckled nose. He was never very good at letting down his guard, choosing to cover himself up with harsh barbs and snipes that wouldn’t let anyone see if they had gotten to him.
Except Alfred. And the two of them knew it.
“Good night,” Arthur gathered up his dice and threw them into his backpack, grabbing his leather jacket. “Phone me when you’re ready to admit you were wrong.”
Alfred stiffened from where he was standing. “Hey, wait a sec, where are you-”
“I’m going to the library. They’re open twenty four hours, which you would know if you needed to study instead of being a know-it-all genius that understands everything without a lick of effort,” Arthur’s snarl was full of venom even as he stopped to wipe spit from his lip. “Who can bother to spend his time reinventing the age-old card game that’s governed the chairs of the Big Five for fun. Who drags me around like some sick mule because he holds such power over me.”
“Power?” Alfred exclaimed incredulously, then almost had to bite his tongue to stop himself from revealing the truth. Arthur wouldn’t know how much power he held over Alfred, Lord of District 44 or not. It hurt because Arthur didn’t know that Alfred was planning to rig the revised card game rules to be easier to play if two people were intimately planning each move together.
It hurt because Alfred was planning to rig the new card game for Arthur.
“You strut around, preening like some bird, with all your clubs and activities as the big man on campus,” Arthur hissed. “Which you are. Everyone and their mother knows you are destined to become the Hero of District 1, which you’ve made pretty bloody clear. And who are you rooming with? Someone who is not yet confirmed to be the leader of his district. I would have been very pleased with an ensuite of my own, but you badgered and badgered me until I agreed to room with you. And what do I get for going along with that, amongst the several of your schemes that just so happen to involve me? I try to come up with something original and I get chastised like a little boy for it. Despite me being the eldest between the two of us. Doesn’t it get dull, Alfred? To constantly be better and more beautiful than anyone else? Don’t you feel alone?”
Arthur always got to him before everyone else. The first person on Alfred’s contacts list. The emergency contact on his student card. The only person pinned to the top of Alfred’s text messages.
He barely heard himself as he spoke. “What if I am?”
Arthur’s thick eyebrows raised, but then his gaze narrowed. Easy to read when he wanted to be, doubly more so for Alfred. “Oh, dear. The young master has learned to harness empathy against his best friend, hasn’t he? Jolly good. Do you want a dummy to suck on? A little headpat from mummy? A cuddle from your twin where he’s currently working in Maplewood? What - heavens, what do you want from me?”
Alfred’s heart pounded in his ears. Leaving the makeshift table and Arthur’s game plan along with the five cards they’d been working on perfecting, he crossed the dingy dorm room in three unbroken strides, right palm slamming into the white door frame next to Arthur’s left ear. Like this, he could watch the planes of Arthur’s thin face contort in contempt, the green in his eyes blazing.
“I’ll repeat the question,” Arthur said slowly, his District 44 accent stewing over each threadbare word. “What do you-”
Alfred clenched his stomach muscles, and surged forward, pushing his spare hand into Arthur’s blond hair and bringing his lips to his. He could feel Arthur’s jaw clench as he kissed him, Alfred’s hand tilting back his head, thumb serrating the cartilage of his freckled ear. Arthur was all bones and sinew through his leather jacket and thin shirt, all sharp angles and harshness, but as Alfred’s hand and body pressed him further against the frame of the door, he could see the softness of the other boy’s neck, made even more vulnerable by the bare, stark lighting of the dorm room. He couldn’t feel Arthur kiss back, his shoe sliding in between Alfred’s, his nails digging into the back of his sports jersey, all sensations numbed with panic: his secret was out.
Arthur knew. Arthur knew Alfred loved him, saw him like a lover, wanted him. His last card, revealing him to someone who would use that information against him the moment he sat on the chair of his district and played him to ruin.
Before Alfred could open his mouth and ruin the mood between them even further, Arthur pushed the two of them apart, panting for breath. With an unreadable fire in his gaze, he slammed the door in Alfred’s face, leaving him alone with papers strewn all over their table and bitterness coating his dry mouth, the ghost of Arthur’s lips on his.