"Excuse me?" Alice was appalled, her voice quiet and soft. She gulped, her eyes widening in horror. Had Alfred… Had Alfred really just said that to her?

"Yeah, I said it!" He spat, almost as if he'd heard her thoughts. His blue eyes blazed angrily.

It was another argument. Only this time, the argument had been taken too far. Alfred was angry, and Alice had been too! But now… Now she was just kind of numb. Her chest ached, causing a horrible sickly feeling to bubble in her stomach. Hot tears welled in her eyes, threatening to fall down her porcelain face.

"You…" She started, hiccuping as angry tears spilled over the edge of her green eyes. "Y-You fuckhead! You arsehole! You bastard! You stupid pile of shite! You… You… I hate you!" She sobbed, gasping harshly. "G-Get out! Get out, get out!"

"Fine! I didn't want to be near you anyway!" Alfred howled, stomping towards the front door. He grabbed his keys, coat and phone along the way, slamming the door behind him loudly as he left.

Alice collapsed on the floor in a heap, rivers of tears streaming down her face. She sobbed grossly, freely, loudly, not even able to see through the haze of her tears. She was barely even able to breathe.

How dare he? How dare he!

Who was he to talk anyway? She was not unattractive in the least! At least, Alice hoped not…

She let out another violent wail, followed by a coughing fit and even more rough sobs.

And maybe he was right about that blasted flat-chested comment… B-But… But he didn't have to bloody say so!

And he said he didn't care anyway!

Alfred wasn't perfect either, so what right did he have to judge her for things she couldn't control?! He ate way too many hamburgers for what was good for him, and he was far too loud. He slept too late and he always reeked of coffee. He was also always rotting his brain playing those crummy video games that were so 'awesome'.

She choked on another sob, bringing her previously limp arms held had her sides to her mouth to muffle it. The action only made her sobs worse. She was dizzy and exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to climb into bed and wake the next morning to to find that everything was a dream. A horrible, horrible dream.

Alice hiccuped again, her sobs beginning to quiet. She'd cried all she could for right now. She slowly pulled herself from the wood floor, her muscles and bones groaning from exhaustion. She whimpered, dragging herself into the kitchen, intent on making herself something to help her calm down and sleep. Tea sounded nice.

After she made herself some white jasmine tea, she pulled the hot mug to her face. She blew the heat away, taking a slow sip. Her green eyes lidded, she hummed softly, sniffling, padding into the den. She sat on the couch, wrapping a blanket around herself in a cocoon like manner.

Allowing a few final tears to leak from the corners of her now red eyes, she fell into a fitful and exhausted sleep.

Alfred sat in his car, not sure on his final destination. He'd been driving for close to an hour, and he felt absolutely awful. Rightfully so, after what he had screamed at her. He had been lying, of course, although the flat chested comment had been sort of true. Everyone knew that Alice was anything but unattractive. She was beautiful. People had called her things all her life, bad things, and Alfred had promised himself he would never, ever hurt her like that. But he had. And he felt like a piece of shit.

He sighed, turning his signal on as pulled the car into the righthand lane, intending on getting off at the next exit and staying the night at some crappy motel. Pulling into the parking lot, he stopped the car, laying his head in his arms on the steering wheel.

"Fuck," he mumbled to himself. He was a horrible person. He'd seen the way Alice's eyes had filled up, not knowing how to react, before passing them off as angry tears. She'd screamed at him, told him to leave, and he'd done just that, screaming right back at her. God, he really hated himself right now. He should have stayed, tried to make things better. He shouldn't have even gotten mad in the first place.

He normally didn't scream or yell when they argued, that was her job. He would go and fume, ignoring her for a little while before one or the other of them went and apologized for their behavior. But no, he had screamed, he had gotten angry, and over something so utterly stupid, and he hated himself for it. How dare he, when Alice always only ever deserved the best. How dare he call her unattractive, and scrawny, when he often found himself getting lost in every part of her. Those beautiful green eyes that he loved oh so much. Her soft skin- her thighs and stomach were his favorites. The little sounds she made during sex. Her expressions. The cute things she did when she didn't think he was paying attention. Her blush when she was embarrassed or happy or angry. The way she would light up when he took an interest in something she liked.

The way she looked at children from afar, wishing for one of her own, even though she didn't think she would be a good mother.

It hurt him to know that she felt that way, and he always told her how amazing she would be. How amazing she was as a person, and she'd see that if she ever tried to look. But her self confidence in both her body and attitude were so low, that she needed constant reassurance that Alfred didn't hate her, that he thought she was beautiful and kind to him. Alfred knew that. But, he'd done something he told himself he would never do. He'd lowered that confidence, practically destroying it. The confidence he'd tried so hard to bring up.

Alfred cursed himself, punching the steering wheel angrily. He was such a jackass. He took the keys from the ignition, leaning back in his chair. He wiped the snot and tears from his face hastily, sighing shakily. He dragged himself from the car lazily, grabbing his phone and jacket before walking the thirty steps to the motel entrance. He stopped at the front desk, exhausted.

"Hello sir, how can I help you?" A girl, named 'Casey', who couldn't have been older than seventeen, spoke to him cheerily.

"Uh," he grunted. "Room for one tonight." The girl nodded, typing a few things into the computer.

"We can give you room 103. Check out time is at 10:30 tomorrow morning. Is that good for you, sir?" Alfred nodded his head, pulling his credit card from his wallet and handing it to the receptionist. She swiped it, typing a few things before giving him back the card.

"Thank you sir. Here are your keys. Your room is right down the hall. Third door on the left." She smiled brightly at him, and Alfred wished he could share the same happiness. He thanked her, heading towards his room. He unlocked the door easily, padding into his room. He only bothered kicking is shoes off and setting an alarm for nine the next morning before flopping down onto the bed and falling asleep.

The sun shone brightly through the windows of the den, waking Alice. She sat up slowly, groggily, muttering something about the glaring light. She rubbed her eyes like a child would their own, not caring about smudging any of the makeup she wore to bed. It was already ruined anyway from the night before, so it didn't really matter regardless.

She slammed the brakes on her train of thought, suddenly realizing why her makeup was already ruined. She had been crying. Alfred had made her cry. Alfred had hurt her. He called her ugly, scrawny, and hard to get along with. He told her that her hair was too long and got in the way, and that her breasts were too small. He told her that she was too tiny for anything. Told her that she never paid attention to him, and couldn't cook if her life depended on it. He told her that he hated her. That he never loved her. That he never wanted to see her, and that he was only with her because she was good at giving blowjobs.

Remembering this, Alice felt like crying again. No, she thought. Don't cry over him. The fucker isn't worth it.

But he was.

She loved him with everything she was and everything she would be. And that was something Alice couldn't deny, no matter how much she tried.

Her chest ached, causing her to curl back on to her side, wrapping herself in the large cream quilt. Tears spilled once again, although silent this time. Her phone buzzed, but she chose to ignore it, focusing more on how miserable she felt. She didn't want to talk to anyone, only lie there and hate herself.

She knew some of the things Alfred said were true, and she hated it. She hated how pathetically small her breasts were, and she knew how hard she was to get along with. When she was younger, people didn't get along, so you made friends with yourself, or no one. Even the friends you made weren't really your friends, they were just kind of there, ready to destroy you at the first sign of weakness. Alice never had friends.

Alice hated that he was right about the ugly comment. He'd told her countless times before that she was attractive, but it had obviously been a lie. She shouldn't have believed him in the first place. A sob tore through her thoughts, and she only burrowed deeper into the blankets in response to it.

Alice knew she wasn't the best cook, but there were plenty of things she could make that didn't get completely destroyed, most of them almost always perfect. Like tarts and scones and stew. She could bake wonderfully! She was even taking lessons! Alice had attention issues anyway, being as scatterbrained as she was, as well as Alfred himself did, so he really couldn't blame her for something like that. Almost everything, everything, he described was something she had absolutely no control over, like her breast size and her body size and her face.

She wiped at her eyes, hearing her phone buzz once again. She sat up, trying to collect herself. Reaching for the cell, she picked it up, sliding it open. On the screen were missed call notifications, all from Alfred. She frowned. Why would he be calling her? He couldn't be wanting to apologize, could he? Hope blossomed, and she squashed it.

No, she thought. Why would he apologize when what he said was true? He probably just wants to mention the things that he forgot to point out, or yell at me some more.

Tears filled her eyes again, and she let them fall. She grit her teeth, trying not to make any noise. She should call him back. Let him know that if he wanted it over, that they would end it.

She pressed his speed dial, putting the phone to her ear. Her voice shook when she sighed, scrubbing the tears from her eyes. The ringing stopped fairly quickly, Alfred's frantic voice coming through the speaker.

"Alice? Oh thank god! We need to talk!" Alice felt the tears welling back into her eyes, but she forced them to stay.

"I-If you want to l-leave me, y-you can." A shudder wracked her body as she choked back yet another sob. Tears spilled violently, and Alice doubled over in attempted to silence them.

"W-Wait, Alice! That's not-"

"Don't lie to me, Alfred!" She winced at the volume and emotion in her voice. Alfred was silent on the other line, unable to process words. "I know you meant what you said, and I know you quite obviously want to leave! You're tired of me, I get it! You don't need to lie to me and tell me that you love me when you clearly don't! I don't want you to do that! If you want out, I want you out!" It was almost entirely too hard to understand her, sobs coming both before and after each word, her gasps completely audible over everything.

"Alice… I d-didn't… I didn't mean anything that I said! I know it was bad, I know, and I'm so, so, so, sorry. But I love you so-"

"Bullshit! Do you think it's funny to make me feel like this? I-I just… I'm done. Good day, Alfred."

"Ali-" Hanging the phone up before he could speak, Alice threw it across the room, nearly breaking the screen. She shrieked, so many emotions leaving her at once. Grief, sadness, pain, anguish, fury. Every negative emotions she could name and more ripped through her like a tornado, both her body and soul aching at the feelings.

She continued to scream. She wanted to die. She wanted someone to be there for her. She wanted it to be a dream, for Alfred to wake her up and ask her what was wrong and make her tea so she would feel better. But that wasn't going to happen.

Crawling over to the corner of the room and picking up her phone, Alice called Matthew. It rung four times before he answered, sounding tired.

"Bonjour? This is Matthew?"

"Hello Matthew." Her voice was soft, Matthew barely able to hear it.

"Alice? What's wrong, is everything okay?" His concern made her feel better. At least someone cared for her.

"W-Well, I probably won't be coming to the Easter meal this year." She chuckled wobbly, tears still falling rapidly.

"Alice? Why, are you sick?"

"No. Your brother... Your brother and I aren't together anymore." There was a silence. Alice was afraid he was mad.

"W-Why not? What happened?" His voice was gentle, supplying much needed comfort to the British lady.

"H-He… H-He doesn't like me anymore…" She sobbed, the tears leaking yet gain. "H-He said I wasn't g-good enough… That everything about me was b-bad!" She wailed, curling further into a ball. She heard Matthew inhale very sharply, and she could feel the anger that he was suppressing.

"Well, he was wrong. And you're still very welcome to Easter meal. We knew you before you and Alfred were even together, so you will always be welcome." There was a mumbled, grouchy whine from his line, a question spoken and responded to in French. "Sorry, Alice. I have to go. But, please, come to Easter meal. We love you." She nodded, hanging up the phone. She was sure Matthew was going to call his brother and have a chat with him. Marianne as well.

"CE QUI LA BAISE AVEZ-VOUS FAIT?!"

Alfred winced from his end of the line.

"It wasn't on purpose!" He tried to defend himself, even as he knew it was a losing battle.

"Alice just called me, telling me that she wasn't coming to Easter dinner, fuckwad. And do you want to know why? Do you?" He didn't even give Alfred time to answer, too busy beginning to yell. "BECAUSE YOU JUST SUDDENLY DECIDED YOU DIDN'T FUCKING LOVE HER ANYMORE!" He snarled into the phone, causing Alfred to wince and shrink away. "VOUS ÊTES UN TAS DE MERDE ABSOLUE, ALFRED!"

Alfred could hear Marianne begging to Matthew in French- she sounded mad, and Alfred knew he was in big trouble.

"Matt! I didn't mean anything I said, I-"

"Then why did you say it?!" It was Marianne who spoke this time.

Alfred winced. "I don't know, Marianne, I really don't."

She scoffed, clearly not pleased with his weak defense. "How do you expect to fix what you've done?"

"I… I don't know…" He bit his lip harshly. "I fucked up, Marianne…"

"You did, Alfred. You really did."

He sighed, rubbing his temple with his other hand. God, he was such a fuck up.

"Well, how can I fix this? I feel awful, Fran. She doesn't deserve this shit."

Marianne snorted. "Non, of course she doesn't, Monsieur Pity-Party." She sighed. "Has she answered the phone today?"

"No…"

"Well, that was a smart move on her part." Alfred rolled her eyes, even though she was right, and he very well knew it. "Maybe try to give her some space for a while, let her think things through. We'll try talking to her." She sighed. "You really fucked up, Américain."

"Good luck, Al. You'll need it." Matthew spat, pulling the phone closer to him for a moment.

Alfred sighed. What the fuck was he going to do?

"Thanks guys. And Mattie - I really didn't mean to."

He could almost hear the eye roll. "I know. You're just a dumbass, and if she kills you, it's your fault."

"Yeah yeah, I know. I just - I just hope she can forgive me."

"I just hope she can trust you again, and I hope you learn to not fuck up like this." Marianne chimed in.

"Me too, Fran. Me too." He ended the call, putting his head in his hands.

What the fuck was he supposed to do?