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    As the bully stood in front of you, you could only stand with your apathetic expression painted across your face, though the fear in your blood fought hard to make it's presence known. They had called you names for years, it had happened since elementary school when you had accidentally pushed them down the stairs. No matter how many times you had cried and apologized throughout those younger years, cried and sobbed, even begged for their forgiveness, they still would not be lenient. They had not broken any bones, but you could understand that the memory haunted them, knowing that a growing period such as that was crucial in development,

~~~~~ Alfred P.O.V. ~~~~~ Alfred Jones was scared. It wasn't something he was often, it wasn't something he ever aspired to be, but he was, and no matter what he told himself the fear wouldn't go away. The poor child had no idea what to do. He was asked by his caretaker, lets call him that for now, if he liked anyone. He did, but he didn't think that his caretaker would apppreciate it if he told him so. "You," was all he said before a quieter, "I like you." His caretaker, Arthur Kirkland, gave him a confused look before what seemed like coming to a conclusion. "Alfred, I meant in a way such as 'I like that girl, she's cute.',not a 'I like