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Inspired by this post: imagineyourotp.tumblr.com/post…

It was all over a tiny stain on his shirtfront.

An inconspicuous little thing, somehow the offending red smear still caught Madeline's bespectacled eye.

Granted, it was on a shirt she had given him as a gift, which meant that it was a shirt she painstakingly sought out, hunting for the screen print that just screamed Alfred, the one she had ordered online and shipped to her house so she could wrap it herself with the paper she bought last year. That shirt, bound lovingly in silver ribbon that caught the glow of the string lights wound around the familiar-smelling evergreen. It coaxed that dazzling smile out so nicely and even though she knew it was coming, the songbird in her chest still beat its wings against its wiry cage when the smile turned, full force, on her.

Al probably hadn't even noticed that the stain was there.

She was sitting across from the soiled present and its recipient, cradling a mug of something hot and sweet. Rain tapped the windows of her house like a stranger wanting to come inside. As Maddie and Alfred grew closer, silences between them became more common, when the pressure to fill each empty space with words to cushion the intimacy let up. Al's eyes hid behind short lashes as they skimmed an article in the newspaper--he complained that news wasn't news anymore and Maddie would giggle at the old man he sounded like. He already looked at home here, and everything felt right for a while, save for that stain.

Maybe I'm expecting too much. Should I...no, it's silly. It's just a stain.

Madeline's fingers tightened around the handle of her mug.

But he remembers me giving him that shirt, he must remember...why wasn't he more careful? I wouldn't let anything he gave me get broken or lost. Anything.

The taste of lip balm mingled with hot chocolate on her burned tongue.

No. Why am I thinking so much about this? It was probably just an accident. A simple accident; you know how clumsy he can be. Still, he's a grown man, and--

"How long has that stain been there, anyway?"

Her gentle voice seemed too loud in the stillness of the breakfast nook. Alfred wasn't startled, though. He hadn't been reading very closely. Cocking his head slightly to the side (as always, when he was confused), his reply seemed even louder.

"What stain?"

"That one, by the collar."

"Oh. Uh, not sure, I didn't know that was there, actually." The halfhearted laughter confirmed it. Madeline sighed.

"That was a gift..."

"Looks like ketchup or tomato sauce," Al noted, scratching at it with his fingernail. He was not helping at all.

"At least pretend to be sorry," she grumbled, mostly to herself. But this was a small house, and Alfred could hear her voice better than most. He bristled a little at this.

"I am, Maddie. But there's not much I can do about it now; it looks like an old one."

He was right, and she knew it. That made it sting worse. He was just shrugging and accepting the mistake without a thought. The apology flew right through her ears, seemingly. Many things flew right over her when her apt brain was whirring away like it did when she started over-thinking like this. Emotion blurred cognition and the words came more quickly than the realization that she was saying them. How could he be so careless? He had no idea how much thought she put into that gift. And it's not like he gave Madeline anything in return. She showed up at that party when they were hardly friends and she was so thoroughly infatuated with him that she spared no expense and had labored for twenty minutes over her frizzy hair. That gift wasn't a Christmas present for him, that was what made her real. That's what sent that movie-perfect smile to her and only her for once. She spat that word, only. Spat at him to just admit that before she thrust the package into his arms, she was the wallflower who drifted around his group of friends. She was a girl the moment he looked up from that thrice-tied silver ribbon and saw the brightness of the hope in her nearly violet eyes through her thick glasses.

Face it, Alfred, without that shirt I never would have gone out with you.

Madeline, so quiet and sweet. Was she the one rising from her chair, almost spilling the lukewarm drink she'd fixed? It stunned Alfred to see this new face of hers, this somber face spewing such bitter things he never knew. That was one of his foils, ignorance. What he lacked in intuition was made up for with ambition, she's told him once. It sounded musical coming from her lightly glossed lips, their shine fading with each bite of dinner. That itchy blazer was worth hearing her say it, followed by that adorable little laugh so unlike his own booming one. She'd surprised him on that first date, everything about her muted but captivating. Now he saw how the rose of her cheeks was carefully engineered to look effortless, the tights checked for runners and loose threads. Nothing was overlooked. It all had to be just right because anything less wasn't worthy of the one she loved.

The callous replies he'd shot at her left a bitter aftertaste.

By the time Alfred sat back down, empty of anything left to say, she was out the door.

Fall was coming, and the rain wasn't as warm as the one that smattered Madeline's bare shoulders the night of that superhero movie wherein Al had brushed her hand gently with his thumb. She walked with purpose to go nowhere. Maddie drew her hood tighter around her face, tangled honey-blonde locks spilling around her neck. It didn't take too long for her to unwittingly step in a puddle and feel the torment known as wet socks, but she didn't care. Nothing would matter until she came to the glowing pool of the dim streetlight a ways down the road, when the gravity of what had just happened hit her. They had never fought like that before. A few of the things she said rang in her ears, but not as loudly as what he'd said back.

"Is it my fault that you're so scared to come out of your shell?! This wouldn't be a problem if you didn't take it personally that I dropped something on a shirt you gave me months ago! God, Maddie. It's nothing."

It's nothing. No big deal. Over nothing he was probably going to break it off with her. Because she obsessed over nothing.

Silly boy. He didn't know. He didn't know how much it hurt to love for so long and never have it returned as something beyond friendliness until two weeks and two days ago.

Alfred appeared umbrellaless. The rain made his hair seem darker, and even that stubborn cowlick lay flush against his forehead. He'd jogged over to that streetlamp; Maddie could hear splashes as he came. The look on his face jilted her, so serious and tight-lipped. Strung like a mandolin, tension stiffened his stance until she opened her mouth and a chorus of excuses tumbled onto the wet concrete. Madeline heard her voice getting higher like before, but this time she sounded weaker with every phrase. There was no talking her way out of this one without saying what's already been shouted at Alfred. Her voice reverted back to its usual flutey nervousness and then some.

"I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean to get so angry, but you just have no clue--I see you with me and refuse to believe that this is real--you have no clue how long...h-how long I was wishing for you to see me with your friends and trying to think of what to say but not knowing what--that's hard enough as it is! And you were so untouchable, so far away from where I was, a-and I wanted you so bad. So bad, Al..."

Numerous times she choked on the words fighting inside her mouth to get out before the tears did. She could not cry, not like this, not in front of him in the rain with the bitter taste of anger still on their palates. White noises rushed in their ears and Alfred's lips remained pressed together, angular jaw set tight. He almost looked pissed. Even so, there was something behind those rain-spotted lenses that said otherwise.

It happened quickly, but Maddie had enough time to see his lovely full lips loosen as he stepped towards her shivering form. A different tingle danced along her spine when a slightly calloused hand tipped her chin up to his half-lidded baby blues and she knew what he was going to do. Tenderly, he forgave her and said sorry and kissed her all at once. Though she'd wondered what sort of a kisser he was, if he ever would kiss her so she could find out, she hadn't anticipated one quite like this. It was upsetting how devastatingly softly his mouth greeted her own. She reciprocated unabatedly, fingers wound into that sopping stained shirt.