Archive of Our Own ^beta

Arthur had often heard it said that it was better to have loved and lost to have never loved at all. Fresh out of the worst breakup of his life, he was certain that the expression was horseshit. As he microwaved a box dinner for the first time in months, he regretted ever having loved at all. His kitchen was close to barren, now. His ex had brought most the cooking utensils with him and whisked them away again when he moved out. Arthur supposed he would have to run to the store soon to at least get some pots and pans- he’d had them before his ex had moved in, but they’d gone missing once he left and Arthur decided to just let it go.

It would be just like Francis, Arthur thought, to take all the cooking supplies as a final act of revenge. Francis, the fancy restaurant owner who insisted on making dinner each night when he was home and would make meals in advance when he wasn’t. Why, he was probably laughing it up in his new apartment, knowing that Arthur would be forced to resort to little more than Lunchables for at least a few days. Arthur just hoped his cooking wouldn’t be too rusty- he never claimed to be a great cook, but he just prayed that his own homemade meals wouldn’t be abysmal.

As his Kid Cuisine rotated in the microwave, the happy penguin mascot on the discarded box seeming to mock him, Arthur thought back to his breakup. He supposed it had been bubbling up for some time- still, it was hard to believe it was really over. They’d been together since they were fourteen, they moved to the States together, they even talked about getting married. However, over the past few months, Francis had been drifting further away, and Arthur hadn’t noticed until it was too late. Perhaps America itself had caused the change. Many aspects of life here moved so quickly, but only for Francis. Arthur’s own dreams were slow going, and the final straw had been when Francis suggested giving up on his writing. “Arthur would likely never write more than a mediocre success at best, so why bother when Francis could take care of him?” What, would Arthur be forced to live in his boyfriend’s shadow if they stayed together? Everything finally bubbled over then, and now Francis was gone. Arthur couldn’t even bring himself to be sad- he was sure he would be later, but for now, he was just angry.

His microwave beeped, and Arthur removed the little plastic lunch tray. Chicken nuggets with tiny sides of corn and mac and cheese. Delightful. As he picked up his plastic fork -yes, Francis had taken the cutlery as well, the silver was a housewarming gift from HIS parents, after all- he heard a faint knock on the door. Raising a brow, he walked over. Was it Francis, here to reconcile? He opened it.

Outside was a stranger. Tan skin and caramel brown hair, with bright blue eyes hidden behind red frames. The man was nearly a head taller than Arthur, and he gave him an awkward smile, holding out a large copper pot. “Uh, hey?”

“What do you want?” Arthur frowned, narrowing his eyes at him. He reached for the chain lock, unsure of whether he should just go ahead and shut the door.

“I um, uh, I live below you? My name’s Alfred! And I sorta heard your whole breakup, um, most people did? I’m sorry it didn’t work out. Your ex came by earlier and said something about taking all the kitchen stuff, I guess he was with someone- I just didn’t want you to go hungry!” The man- Arthur’s downstairs neighbor Alfred, he reminded himself- smiled again. “It’s chili! Lots of it, so you can have leftovers. My granddad’s recipe, too. You can just bring the pot back when it’s empty, no worries, okay?”

Arthur looked away, eyeing the pathetic box meal. Chili was far from his favorite, but, it was a hundred times better than his original plan. He looked back at Alfred, noticing his earnest, sincere smile. He truly did want to help.

“Do you…want to come in? And eat?” He asked, opening the door a bit wider. “I still have bowls and some plastic spoons that I think I got from a Wendy’s.”

Alfred smiled at that, nodding as he followed Arthur into the apartment. “Yeah, um, thanks!” He grinned, setting the pot down on the stove. He turned the burner on low, just to warm it up a little. “You know, I’ve always wanted to meet you. I wish it was on better terms.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh? And why is that?” Arthur asked, turning away from him as he got the bowls down out of the cabinet.

“I’ve read your books. I know that they haven’t like, taken off yet, but I loved them and I hate reading.” Alfred chuckled. “I guess I also felt kinda bad because you were always Francis’s boyfriend first, Arthur second, you know? Francis is like, famous around here because of his restaurant and that was all anyone ever talked about. I saw you guys on the local news, I felt bad that everyone kept asking you what it was like to be Francis’s boyfriend, like, hello? You’re a superstar author in the making and they’re asking you if Francis has ever named a dish after you? That’s dumb…” Alfred rambled, trailing off only once he’d noticed Arthur was still not looking at him. “Everything okay?”

Arthur set the bowls on the counter and rubbed his eyes. “Yes, everything is fine. You just happened to say the right thing at the right time. Thank you, Alfred.”

Alfred shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m..glad I could help.” After Alfred filled the bowls, Arthur led him over to his dining room table, sitting down across from him. He thanked him for the meal.

The chili wasn’t like anything Francis had ever made. It wasn’t fancy and it didn’t have some kind of gimmick to make it ‘high-end’ or anything like that. It was simple, good comfort food, and Arthur couldn’t have been happier with it. Alfred was pleasant company too, and wonderfully interesting. He was an archaeologist, and his ramblings about his discoveries and his theories on human history were something Arthur thought he could never get tired of. He answered every question Arthur had, no matter how stupid-sounding. Francis had never given him such a luxury- how dare Arthur not know what “sous vide” was- as the boyfriend of a restaurant owner, it was his duty to know everything about the culinary arts as to not embarrass Francis. Not that Francis knew anything about writing and publishing a book. Alfred, though- he seemed to love questions and answered each to the best of his ability.

The night passed quickly, and soon it was well past midnight. Alfred finally happened to look at a clock, and jolted up, apologizing for taking up so much of Arthur’s time.

“It was my pleasure,” Arthur replied, smiling as he opened the door for Alfred. “You are a very interesting person, Alfred, and it was wonderful to talk to you. I feel loads better.”

“Ha, um, I’m glad!” Alfred smiled, rubbing his neck. “It was really nice to finally meet you- you’re a really cool guy Arthur, so don’t let this get you down too much. Hey, when your books do take off, now you get to say “I told you so.” Alfred chuckled. “Don’t give up just ‘cause he said so. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” He stepped outside.

As Alfred began to walk away, Arthur called after him. “I uh, have to do quite a bit of shopping tomorrow- to replace all my cooking utensils, ha… I’d like some company, if you’re free?”

Alfred beamed. “Sure thing, Art! See you tomorrow!”

And with that, Alfred disappeared around the corner to take the stairs. Arthur leaned in his doorway and smiled a bit. Perhaps it was indeed better to love and lose, because that meant that, perhaps, he could love again.