Voices in his Head
"You're all...out to get me." He murmured, doing the thing with his hand that looked like he was playing little bunny foo foo, but was, unfortunately, freaking out about something. "Even you!" He was crying, and Alfred knew better than to touch him right now.
He bent down so that he could see him eye to eye, since he was in a chair, his favorite, since it was cushy and warm and you felt like you were getting a hug.
"Well, I don't agree." He said, placating him. "I'm certainly not out to get you." He smiled comfortingly at him.
He was pulling at his hair now, breathing hard. "They say so." He muttered.
"The voices?" And he nodded jerkily. "You don't have to listen to them, remember?" He reminded gently, being patient with him. "Everyone has the right to see things their own way."
Arthur nodded, looking wildly around him, seeing things only he could. "I'm going to get your medicine." Alfred told him, smiling. "It'll help, okay?"
"Mum...was out to get me...made me go..." He was muttering to himself now, and Alfred felt bad for the young man. He couldn't help himself.
He came back a few minutes later with his ambilify. "Here you are." Alfred smiled for him. He held out the pill for Arthur to take, and Arthur obediently took it, used to the action. He then drank from the water glass Alfred held up to his lips.
He had found Arthur roughly a week before, and now understood that his altruistic actions meant he had now a rather large burden on his shoulders. One so great, Arthur had been kicked out from his own family. At least, that was what Alfred could piece together from his disturbed mumblings. But unlike them, Alfred welcomed the man into his home, determined to get him back on track with his life. It was something he did, yanno? He was living comfortably, and wanted to help out those who weren't. He often took in families whose homes had foreclosed. He was a very successful consultant, and had more than enough money to help out those who didn't have enough.
Arthur was not the kind of person he usually took in, however. He was a very unique man, representing about 1% of the US population.
He remembered that night, and probably would for a long while.
Alfred was waiting for his carpool to show up with an umbrella over his head, trying to reduce his environmental footprint, and that was when he spotted him.
There was a man leaning against the wall by where he was waiting, mumbling to himself. He was handsome, in a different sort of manner. Unkempt, however. Shadows danced in his green eyes, and he looked utterly defeated. He was dressed in what looked to have once been nice clothes, but were now rags soaked with rainwater. He was missing one shoe.
Alfred decided it was okay to get wet, extending his umbrella to cover the man without getting too close. "Hello." He said, friendly. "You look like you could use this."
The man didn't respond to him, only continuing with his paranoid muttering. That was when Alfred guessed what was up with him. He was probably suffering from a mental illness. He got closer, covering him with the umbrella fully now.
The man looked up with dull eyes, ceasing his muttering. He watched Alfred apathetically. His face was flat as he spoke. "What." He said, in a monotone.
Alfred smiled a little wider. "Hey." He was still very friendly, gentle with this man. "Do you need me to call someone for you?" He asked.
The man almost nodded, before abruptly, and violently, shaking his head. "No, no no no. Gone. Arthur not welcome." He muttered, looking down again.
"Is your name Arthur?" He tried to draw the man's attention back to him, and Arthur jerked his hand.
"Yes..." He mumbled, looking back up with him.
"Arthur, you're welcome with me." He said, and Arthur looked down again.
"Really? No one wants me." He was paranoid now. "No one ever wants me. Everyone's out to get me." Arthur jerked more with his arms.
"Shhhh..." Alfred said, smiling. "I'm not. That counts for something, right?" And Arthur nodded after a minute. He reached out for Alfred, and Alfred was calm as Arthur grabbed him.
"I don't...like rain." He pondered, and Alfred felt sympathetic. He wanted out of the rain, but didn't have the ability to do something about it.
"How about you come with me." He offered, taking Arthur's hand and drawing him closer. Arthur agreed, thanking him after a few minutes of walking under the umbrella.
He'd call his ride later, he was walking with this one. He didn't want to ruin his friends interior.
And a week filled with doctors appointments, research, found person signs, and trying to find out more about Arthur later, and Alfred now knew that his new friend had a terrible case of schizophrenia. Doctors guessed that his family dumped him once the costs got too high for them to live with him. So now he was just alone, save for Alfred.
At least Arthur seemed to (mostly) like him.
Alfred was tucking Arthur into bed, having had some difficulty getting him there, Arthur weakly protesting this. But now he was in bed, sleeping peacefully. He was rather cute, now cleaned up and no longer making disturbed noises. Alfred propped his head up on a pillow, and then left him, closing the door behind him.
He sighed, relieved that Arthur was in bed and comfortable.
Alfred smiled softly, and then plopped into his own bed. He groaned. "God." He murmured, curling up. "What did I get myself into?"
He closed his eyes, and fell asleep.
XXXXX
When he met Arthur, he was in a flat phase. Now he wasn't nearly as calm. He was in his more positive symptoms. That was problematic, since Arthur, who didn't know Alfred very well, lashed out at him a lot. He went to work with a black eye one day, calling his friend to just watch Arthur through his baby cam.
That worked until Arthur broke it.
He was a hassle, unfortunately. Alfred was feeding him when he started to think Alfred was giving him poison, and threw it all up.
Alfred was nearly at his wits end then, cleaning up after Arthur once he had given him his pill, when he finally got some interesting information from Arthur.
"You're really...not like them..." He murmured, eyes dull, but interested.
Alfred smiled at him, trying to remain calm with him. "Yeah, you could say that. Who's they?" Arthur looked away.
"My...family." He whispered. "They kicked me out after I hurt Peter...I hurt you...you didn't make me go..."
Alfred got up, and looked empathetic. "I know you can't help yourself." He said, ruffling Arthur's hair. "Are you finally coming down from your high?" He asked, smiling softly.
"I think I am...they never really consistently medicated me..." Alfred hurt for the man. Arthur fiddled with his hands.
"Well, that's going to change. You're on a strict medication plan, and now that you're not freaking out on me all the time, we can arrange for a therapist to help you."
Arthur looked nervous then. "What if he's out to get me?"
Alfred prayed for The Lord to give him patience. He needed every bit of it he could get. "Well, he's only there to help you." He reminded gently. "And if you don't like him, we can go to another one." Arthur seemed soothed by that, and Alfred grinned. "Hey, how about we turn on some TV!"
Arthur looked really freaked out then. "B-But...they'll be broadcasting my thoughts if I do that."
God help him.
4
