Charlie's only been at university for a week but already he feels like Finn and he have exchanged more words than they did when Finn used to be friends with Matthew. Because this time Finn is making a conscious effort to seek Charlie out, he invites Charlie to sit with his friends and him, seems to be constantly offering Charlie tours of the campus (apparently the first one wasn't comprehensive enough) and inviting him for coffee when he's free.
It makes avoiding Finn rather difficult, means Charlie can't avoid his feelings with ease. But Charlie can't say he particularly minds it, in fact he constantly finds himself checking his phone, hoping that there's a text from Finn inviting him somewhere.
That was what happened last night. Apparently Finn and his friends have a tradition of spending Thursday evenings in the library. Someone brings food, someone brings caffeine and then they all do work.
It's possibly the most productive Charlie has been since he arrived.
Finn's sat opposite Charlie, a pile of books stacked alongside him, glasses sliding down his nose as he types away furiously on his laptop.
Finn looks up when he feels Charlie's gaze on him. For once Charlie doesn't blush.
"You okay?" Charlie mouths, not wanting to disturb the rest of the group.
"Tired," Finn says.
"Sorry for bothering you," Charlie whispers, "you look like you've got a lot to get through."
"It's fine, I like you bothering me. And this is pretty normal, one piece of advice Martin, never underestimate the workload of a medicine degree."
"Noted," Charlie replies.
The pair smile then fall into silence once again.
Charlie focuses on the text in front of him once again, forces himself to look past the words on the paper, to find the deeper meaning. Makes notes on paper, crosses and highlights and underlines.
"I need more coffee," Eliza says, interrupting Charlie's thought process, "anyone fancy coming with me."
Charlie's reached the end of the page, his legs are stiff and his eyes are beginning to drop shut. If there are two things he needs right now it's a walk and caffeine.
"I will."
Eliza nods to show that she's heard him and the two of them pull on their jackets, stepping out of the library. It's only a short walk to the coffee shop but the September air is biting, Charlie subconsciously tugs his coat tighter and shivers slightly.
"I needed a break," Charlie says.
He hadn't thought about how awkward the walk might be. He might be hanging out with Finn and his friends now but he still has no idea how any of them feel towards him, if they all secretly hate him. And yes he's spent time with them but Finn's always been there too, bringing Charlie into the conversation, now Charlie has to survive on his own.
"Same," Eliza replies with a light laugh, "I can only think about amino acids for so long before my brain begins to shut down."
Charlie smiles.
"Yeah I know what you mean," Charlie says, then backtracks slightly, "I mean not because of amino acids, but I know the whole brain shut down thing."
"I guessed that was what you meant."
There's a few beats of silence, Charlie gets the idea that if he speaks he'll be interrupting Eliza even though she's saying nothing.
"So do you like Finn?"
The question is blunt and it takes Charlie a few moments to realise that the question has been asked aloud, that it's not just his mind projecting the thought.
"I – I – do I what?" Charlie appears to be reduced to a stammering mess more often than he would like.
"Do you like Finn?" Eliza repeats.
She doesn't make it sound like she thinks Charlie is stupid, like he hasn't understood the question. She says it with patience, as if she already knows the answer and is just waiting for Charlie to admit it aloud.
"Of course not," Charlie imagines that if he was Pinocchio he would have impaled most of the world's population by now, "why would you think that?"
"Maybe because you're constantly looking at him like you want to jump his bones, and I don't know, the two of you act like something has happened between the two of you and I figured you might still be hung up on it or something."
"N – No," Charlie stammers once again, "that's not – it's not like that."
"What is it like then?"
"He was my brother's best friend back home; we hung out a couple of times back then."
"And there were no drunken accidental kisses?"
For a moment Charlie considers the idea that Finn might have told Eliza. Then he realises that there is a teasing lilt to Eliza's voice and that there's a small smile tugging at her features. She thinks she's proposing something entirely impossible; Charlie is going to let her carry on thinking that way.
"No drunken accidental kisses," Charlie repeats mirroring Eliza's easy smile.
"You know," she says, "I still think there's something going on between the two of you."
"And why's that?"
"You know Finn's outgoing and flirty and sociable, but he generally just flirts or just is friends with someone. He rarely does both, he's not that stupid."
Charlie is caught between denying that Finn is his friend and denying that Finn flirts with him. Deep down he knows that both statements are true, that Finn is his friend – he wouldn't be hanging out with them this evening else wise – and that Finn does flirt with him.
"Finn flirts with everyone," Charlie points out, "he thinks it's harmless."
"And it usually is, you know, as long as the other person doesn't have feelings for him."
"Are you suggesting that I have feelings for Finn?"
"You said that, not me."
"My feelings for Finn are purely platonic," Charlie says.
"Fine," Eliza replies, her tone calm, "but you should know that yes, Finn flirts with everyone but Finn also doesn't tend to walk people to classes, or to give them tours of campus or to look at them with heart eyes every time they say something."
"He doesn't look at me with heart eyes."
"He so does, you just don't notice. You're too busy blushing and staring at your shoes like a twelve year old."
"Hey!"
"The truth hurts Charlie."
"It's not true," Charlie tries to make it clear that he means every word, "we're just friends."
"And I'm just fucking Finn every other weekend."
"You are?" Charlie can't help the hurt that leaks into his tone, hell, he doesn't even know why it's there.
"No," Eliza says sounding exasperated and accompanying the comment with a roll of her eyes, "he's gay Charlie. And totally not my type. And totally in love with this guy called Charlie."
"Charlie?"
"You, dickface."
"Finn's not in love with me."
"God this conversation is just going round in circles," Eliza sighs, then louder, "look Martin, Finnegan likes you, I'm not sure how much, but it seems like a lot. You evidently like him even though I know you're about to deny it and so will the two of you just fuck already so the damn sexual tension will disappear."
"There's no sexual tension."
"I swear I am five seconds away from hitting you."
"Fine," Charlie says, "point taken, I disagree but I'll take what you have said into consideration."
"Thank you, you know you should just get accustomed to knowing that I'm always right."
"That's not what I said."
"But deep down you know it's true."
The unfortunate thing is that deep down Charlie does indeed know this. He knows that he likes Finn, that his body does stupid things whenever he's near the other boy, like blushing and stammering. But he also knows that Finn most likely does not feel the same way back. Finn said it himself, he flirts with everyone. He also said he moved on so whatever feelings he did have have evidently upped and disappeared.
They've reached the coffee shop by this point and stay quiet the entire time they're queuing. Charlie lets Eliza order and then they're on their way again, he searches for the right words to say, worried that the silence is becoming uncomfortable.
"Even if I did like Finn," Charlie says, "y'know hypothetically."
"Hypothetically of course," Eliza says, sounding like she believes it's anything but.
"I don't think he does like me back. I think you're reading too much into things, I mean he's just trying to be friendly."
"I'm sick of saying this but I'll say it one last time. Finn flirts with people yes, and Finn has been known to fuck around. But Finn generally does not combine that with friendship. So yes, Finn is friends with you, yes he's flirting with you. But I've been friends with him for long enough now to know that when he flirts with you he actually means it."
All Charlie can do in response is shrug.
---
It's a couple of hours later when Charlie looks up from his laptop and realises that everyone except for Finn and him have packed up and left.
Finn looks up and their gazes catch, Finn smirks mischievously, Charlie smiles bashfully.
"You don't have to stay if you want to go," Finn says, pulling his earphone out, "it's kinda late and I don't mind staying alone."
"Is that your way of telling me that you'd rather I wasn't here?"
"Not at all."
"Good. Cause I've still got some work to do so you can't kick me out just yet," Charlie tells Finn, his voice finally taking on a teasing tone.
"I wouldn't dream of it."
Finn offers another smile, then he's rifling through bits of paper once again, jotting down notes, chews on the end of his pen as he puzzles over something. Charlie would be lying if he said that Finn wasn't providing a distraction, if the sight of Finn in black rimmed glasses, tired but still somehow full of energy didn't make Charlie think about things he really shouldn't.
Including Eliza's words from earlier.
Charlie knows that there's no way Finn can feel the same way. That Charlie could wish on a thousand shooting stars and that statement would never be true. But it's nice to entertain the notion none the less, to think that if Finn did feel the same way Charlie might have the courage to act on his thoughts. That maybe his Dad and his fears all might just disappear and it would just be Finn and Charlie doing god knows what.
Charlie doesn't what to think about that.
Except he does. Even though he really shouldn't.
Deep down Charlie knows that his heart contains a thousand feelings he really should be confronting. Knows that Finn was right when he said that bottling everything up only results in an overflow or an explosion. Charlie knows all this, but he's not sure how not to do it all. Because who can he tell? He can't tell his Dad, his Mum's too wrapped up with her new life and Matthew can't know (how do you tell your older brother that you might have feelings for his childhood best friend?) and the only people left to tell are Finn and his friends. Neither of which seems like a particularly good option.
And so Charlie keeps his feelings locked inside, doesn't allow himself to examine them closely. There's no denying they're there but he is still clinging onto the foolish hope that maybe if he ignores them they'll just disappear.
They appear to be growing instead.
When Finn's foot brushes against Charlie's under the table, Charlie swears he feels an electric current passing through him. He knows it's stupid and he knows it's an overreaction. It's not like it means that much to Finn, and even if it does it shouldn't matter.
Charlie tries to repeat that to himself over and over again. It shouldn't matter. It shouldn't matter.
It somehow does though.
Trying to refocus his attention on his essay, he outlines his points, tries to figure out which ones he's already written, the ones he's still got left to go. Tries not to think about the way that their skin is touching and it's innocent and means nothing yet means everything at the same time. Charlie is tempted to pull his leg away but that seems far too close to admitting that he cares.
So Charlie types. Forces himself not to care. And when the essay is finally finished a half hour later their legs are still pressed together. Charlie wonders if Finn too is too scared to pull away.
"You done?"
The pair of them are the only two left in the library yet Charlie still has to look around to ensure that Finn isn't talking to someone else.
"Yeah."
"Wanna get out of here?"
"You done too?"
"There's only so long I can spend in here, it's like eleven."
"Already?"
"Yeah I guess we were both too in the zone to realise."
It's not it's even that late, but they have been here since three o'clock and Charlie has barely noticed the time pass by.
When the two of them step outside Charlie isn't entirely sure what is going to happen next. Are they going to part ways? He kind of wants to hang out for a bit longer but he isn't sure how to suggest it without sounding like he's fifteen years old all over again.
Luckily he doesn't have to.
"You wanna see something cool?" Finn asks.
"Do you even have to ask?"
Finn lets out a gentle laugh, wraps his fingers around Charlie's wrist and tugs him along after him.
"Follow me."
"It looks like I don't have much of a choice," Charlie replies lightly.
"Sorry," Finn drops Charlie's wrist and Charlie realises that he misses the contact.
"No – I – I wasn't," he doesn't know how to make it clear that that wasn't what he meant without it being awkward.
But Finn seemingly can read minds, or understand Charlie's constant stammering and blathering as he places his hand back on Charlie's arm prompting Charlie to inhale sharply, they're touching and it feels almost as intimate as kissing, this supposedly innocent gesture.
"You sure you don't mind."
"I'm sure."
And so Finn carries on leading the way, never letting go. And Charlie follows after. He doesn't even bother to try to figure out where they're going, just puts his trust in Finn, presumes they're going somewhere just as exciting as Finn promised.
It's not long before they arrive. Finn stares up at an aging sign hanging above a door with the paint peeling off and Charlie can't help but think that maybe cool was an overstatement.
Everything makes sense when they walk inside though.
It's a bookshop, but it's also so much more than that. Because yes there are shelves of books but they stretch into dark oblivion and some are so tall Charlie thinks you might need a ladder to reach the books at the very top. In one of the corners a band are playing, a soundtrack to the adventure that Charlie feels as if he is about to embark on.
"What is this place?" He asks. His voice a mixture of wonder and confusion.
"A bookshop."
Finn laughs at Charlie's unimpressed expression, that was the one bit of information Charlie had managed to work out.
"This isn't a normal bookshop."
"Do you not like it?" Finn asks, his tone suddenly nervous.
"I love it," Charlie replies, his voice just a little bit awed, "I love books and I love quirky bookshops and just – thank you."
"If I knew brining you here would get you this excited I would have brought you sooner."
"You should have done."
"Sorry," Charlie was teasing but Finn's apology is genuine.
"At least you brought me here now. Wait. Why the hell is this place open at this time?"
"Not only does this place have the best bands playing and serve the best coffee, it's also open twenty four hours."
Charlie's mouth drops open.
"I've got a feeling I'm not going to be able to make you come out of here," Finn says.
"Probably not," Charlie admits, "I mean if I don't have to."
"You don't have to but your grades might not thank you for it. Come on," Finn urges, "you wanna buy a book?"
"Is Moby Dick a whale?"
Finn looks marginally confused, Charlie isn't sure whether he doesn't understand the reference or whether he just doesn't understand why Charlie is using it.
"Yes," Charlie quickly says, "I always want to buy books."
Charlie knows that he's never going to be able to cover the whole store tonight but he might as well make the most of the time he has, and so he begins browsing the shelves.
Finn watches him with a smile on his face that grows wider every time Charlie lets out a little gasp of excitement at the books he's found. There's something Finn quite likes about watching him browse, the way his brows knit together whilst he considers a book and the way his fingers trail along the spines, as if he's going to be able to feel a book drawing him closer. Charlie definitely seems to be in his element and Finn loves it, he's so used to Charlie being awkward, acting as if he doesn't think he belongs but there's no chance of that here. This place almost seems as if it could be Charlie's home, evidently Finn needs to start surrounding Charlie with books more often.
"I'm sorry," Charlie says after a few minutes of Finn silently trailing Charlie around the bookstore.
"What for?"
"We can leave and I can come back on my own," Charlie says, "you don't seem to be finding this very interesting."
Finn almost admits that he may not find the books interesting but he certainly thinks Charlie is. He bites his tongue then, offers Charlie an encouraging smile and resists the urge to reach out and take Charlie's hand in his. For whatever reason Charlie is denying himself the privilege of admitting what he wants. But Finn isn't going to rush him, things like this take time.
And Finn is pretty sure that he doesn't mind waiting.
Charlie's arms are full of books and wordlessly Finn offers to hold them. It appears Charlie's not quite done yet and the least Finn can do is help him carry them all.
It's not much longer though before Charlie is paying for his books (and telling Finn that he's not going to eat for the next few weeks because of this trip) and then he's looking at Finn expectedly.
"What now?"
"I've got one more thing in here to show you."
Finn wraps his fingers around Charlie's wrist once again and leads him to the back of the store and up a flight of rickety stairs.
"You can't tell anybody about this place okay," Finn whispers, "I'm friends with the owner and she made me promise not to tell anyone but I'm making an exception for you."
Charlie isn't entirely sure what the big deal is until Finn is opening a latch on the ceiling and pushing open a door or sorts. Finn hoists himself up and then offers Charlie a hand, pulling him up onto the rooftop beside him.
"Woah."
Finn watches as Charlie stares in wonder at the sky above them, the sky's clear, stars visible and it physically takes Charlie's breath away.
"Thought you might like it. It's kinda cliché but I love it."
"Do you know any of them?"
"Sure I do. My Mum and Dad used to drive me up to this hill nearby where we used to live and we'd stargaze all night long in the summer. They'd bring hot chocolate and we'd just sit there and talk," Finn is getting caught away, wrapped up in the memories and he has to force himself to stop talking.
"Sorry."
Charlie doesn't have to explain what he means by that singular word, Finn is used to people apologising by now. Is used to the sympathetic expressions and the worried gazes.
"Not your fault," Finn's tone is light but Charlie can tell he's breaking, "they've been gone seven years now, I guess I'm kinda used to missing them."
"I'm still sorry."
"And it's still not your fault."
They fall into a comfortable silence for a few moments until Charlie speaks up.
"Go on then," he urges, "tell me what some of them are."
Finn's voice falters and then he stretches his arm upwards and points at the sky.
"There's Ursa Major," he says, his voice quiet, "can you see it?" When Charlie nods Finn continues, "and then Cassiopeia and Draco and Hercules."
Charlie's eyes have strayed from the stars down to Finn and the party at age fifteen suddenly seems light years away. Charlie kind of wants to lean across and kiss the boy, but he hesitates, he's too shy, too nervous, too worried that that's not what he really wants.
It's almost as if Finn can ready Charlie's mind though. He clears his throats, their gazes suddenly locked, neither of them wanting to look away.
"You know," Finn says, his voice dropped to just above a whisper, "if I thought you'd reciprocate the gesture then I'd think about kissing you right now."
For once Charlie doesn't blush. Instead he thinks about their lips pressed together.
"Only think about it?"
Finn sighs, lets out a breath that could be a laugh.
"Fine. I wouldn't even have to think about it, if I thought, knew, you were going to reciprocate the gesture I'd grab you and kiss you and never let you go, no thought necessary."
Charlie's breath catches in his throat and the words stick to his tongue. Because Finn's expression is genuine and completely serious, no traces of humour, no sign that he's joking. He looks like he's waiting for an answer that Charlie's not sure he can provide because he just doesn't know what to say. The space between the two boys is widening and Charlie doesn't feel like any of the words circling in his mind are going to be able to bridge the gap.
"I – you don't – I mean."
And so he resorts to his usual stammering self, unable to string a sentence together, unable to form a coherent thought.
"It's just," Charlie continues, he knows he's probably making the situation worse but he just can't seem to stop, "you and me – you – just – it can't."
Finn does a good job of hiding his hurt, of locking away his emotions so that they're not displayed in his eyes. Charlie is desperate to know what the other boy is thinking but it seems that he's sliding on yet another mask, changing himself into a boy that isn't hurt, into a boy that doesn't care.
Charlie can only think of one way to ensure that the old Finn says.
It starts with him winding their fingers together, and even when Finn looks confused and like he might try to pull away, Charlie keeps a tight grip. He's not letting go, not that easily.
And then Charlie's shuffling ever so closer to Finn so that their hips are pressed together and if Charlie turns to the side even slightly their shoulders brush. For a few moments they sit like that, their hearts racing in synchronisation, their breaths both shallow.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
Perhaps, Charlie tells himself, perhaps everything between them might work out okay.
And Charlie decides right there and then that he's not going to think about what's going to happen in a few months or a few days, a few hours or a few minutes. He's going to think about what's happening right now, about the way it feels like Finn's touch is a flame that's burning through him.
And yes people warn you about playing with fire, about the burn that accompanies it, but Charlie can't help but think there's something quite enticing about the flame, especially when you're in the dark.
Charlie presses their lips together.
He instantly regrets it, especially when Finn doesn't respond, but then Finn's hands are in his hair and they're kissing each other like it's the last day on earth, like time is running out. Like if they don't do this now then they're never going to do it again.
And maybe that's true.
Maybe this is the golden chance that's never going to come around again, in which case Charlie is glad that he went for it. Is glad that his hands are looped around Finn's neck, glad that their bodies are pressed together and that neither one of them is pulling away. For a few moments Charlie feels like he's reliving that night from three years ago all over again, like this is going to be yet another kiss that he'll stay awake over for the next three years, that this is going to be another kiss that ruins him, destroys everything he knows and does a poor job of rebuilding it.
But then he begins to notice the differences. Like the fact that this time Finn seems just as nervous about the whole thing as Charlie is, like the fact that this kiss lingers somewhere between passion and tenderness. As if neither one of them is sure where they stand, is not sure how much they should be giving or how much they're going to be getting in return.
Charlie pulls away, lets his face hover just a few centimetres from Finn's, his hands drop to Finn's shoulder. He says nothing, casually brushes his fingers against Finn's cheek, allows his head to fall forward so that their foreheads are pressed together.
"Wow," Finn says.
His voice is almost hoarse and Charlie isn't sure how to reply without sounding much the same.
"You know I don't appreciate being pity kissed," Finn continues after a few beats of silence.
"Who said anything about that being a pity kiss?"
"I did, and it was kinda obvious anyway. How many times have you gone on about me not being your type, and how you don't have any feelings for me cause you don't swing that way. So come on, unless something's changed?"
The words are dancing on the tip of Charlie's tongue and he's so close to spitting them out.
And then he feels his phone begin to vibrate, hears the unmistakable sound of it ringing. It would be so easy for Charlie to just let it ring, but he can't do it, he knows who it is and there's no point in delaying the inevitable.
"Sorry," Charlie tells Finn whilst he fishes his phone out of his pocket, "I gotta answer this."
Finn nods, beginning to look indifferent once again. Charlie is so close to leaning over and placing a kiss to his lips, to assuring Finn that something has changed, that this kiss means as much as Finn thinks it does. He doesn't though.
"Hey dad," Charlie says as he answers the phone.
Finn's eyebrows quirk upwards and his brow furrows in understanding.
"So you finally picked up the phone when I called," Peter Martin sounds angry.
"I've been... busy," Charlie's voice is quiet, his words not clear.
"You promised you'd call, so you've been too busy for your own father?"
Charlie can almost picture his Dad on the other side of the phone. Face red, fists clenched and veins in his neck visible. Sub-consciously Charlie's fingers stray to his cheek, the memory of his father's anger clear in his mind.
"I'm sorry."
He can feel himself withdrawing back into the boy he used to be, Charlie didn't realise how much he changed over his few weeks at university until now. When he can feel the new him disappearing with just a simple interaction with his father.
"So what have you been up to?" For a moment Charlie thinks all the anger has disappeared. "I mean it must have been pretty important for you to ignore me."
"I've just had a lot of work dad, loads of essays and the like."
"Good, as long as it's work, I let you go to university so you could study, not so you could socialise. Don't make me regret my decision."
Charlie knows why his father is mentioning this, his father knows exactly how important going to university is for Charlie, how much he's been looking forward to it. And Charlie knows that his father can't make him leave, but even considering it makes Charlie's heart feel like breaking.
"Of course," he replies, "I won't make you regret it."
"Good. Cause I know what happens with 'socialising' at university, I've heard about people experimenting at parties and I don't want you getting involved in any of that."
Charlie looks over at Finn sitting next to him; head bowed trying to pretend that he's not listening in on the conversation.
"I wouldn't. You know that."
Charlie had thought the anger was gone, but now it seems to have returned with a flash.
"I don't know that. I don't know what you're up to, that's why I want you to call me. You think I don't remember that Finn boy, I know he's there too. I want you to stay away from him."
"I haven't even seen him," Charlie lies.
"I love you Charlie, but if I found out you were like him, if you'd tried something with someone like him, you know that's wrong don't you, you know I wouldn't be able to control my reaction don't you?"
"Yes. I know."
"Good Charlie, as long as you don't forget."
"Look Dad I've got to go," Charlie is holding back tears and he's not sure how much longer he can last, "it's late and I've got lectures early in the morning."
"Of course, I don't want to keep you up."
"Night – Dad."
"Night."
Charlie ends the call and stares straight ahead in silence for a few moments. Finn reaches out to brush his fingers against Charlie's cheek and Charlie can't help it, he automatically flinches away. He's too used to the after affects of his father's anger.
Hurt crosses Finn's face and Charlie wants to explain everything.
"It's okay," Finn promises.
"No it's not."
"It is."
Even Finn doesn't sound like he believes what he's saying.
"My Dad's a prick who'd probably kill me if he knew what I'd just done, I'm an idiot who's too fucking afraid to kiss you and you're here telling me that things are okay, they're not Finn."
"Okay so maybe things aren't okay. But you're not an idiot, you're scared."
"I just – I can't – I just think about everything he says whenever I'm near you."
"Everything he says is wrong."
"I keep on telling myself that," Charlie admits, "but it's like his words are stuck in my head and I just can't get rid of them."
"Tell me what it's like."
"What?"
"When you're with me what's it like? I don't understand it, I haven't been through this, so please try to explain it, maybe I can help."
"It's – it's not that important."
"Nothing has ever been more important to me," Finn says, "please Charlie."
"It's like every time I think about touching you, or when our hands or feet or whatever brush, I can just hear him in my head telling me I'm going to hell, that what I'm thinking is wrong. And I tell myself not to think about it, but then all I do is think about it more. And even when I do stuff that in the moment feels right I know his words are going to come back to haunt me later."
"Charlie..."
"I just hate not doing it, but I hate myself for doing it."
Finn places his hand in Charlie's.
"I honestly would love to give you a great talk right now about not hating yourself but I don't think it's going to help. But just so you know I like it a whole freaking lot when you do kiss me, but if you don't want to then that's okay too, whatever you want to do. I'm not going to try and make your mind up for you, cause then I'm just as bad as him."
"I don't know if I can do this," Charlie says gesturing between the two of them, "but just know that it's not cause I don't want to, it's cause I'm scared."
"That's fine," Finn replies with an encouraging smile, "we can take things slow. Like really slow. Like we don't even have to kiss we can just hold hands or something. Whatever you want."
"You sound like such a nerd," Charlie tells Finn with a teasing smile but the message is clear.
He's really saying thank you.
AlM^