Realign
Chapter One – Now
Perhaps Arthur would never fully heal, at this moment; he knew for sure he was never sitting in the driver's seat of a car again. And perhaps Alfred would always be shaken by what had happened and his life was now tainted by an excess of caution. Maybe neither of them would recover. Mental scars were something Arthur could easily accept, car crashes were commonplace and often tragic, and no one could expect to walk away from them entirely unscathed. He should be happy he'd walked away alive.
But he wasn't happy, because there was something wrong with Alfred. Having woken up a few months ago in a hospital bed, blinking at the unsmiling, blue eyes of his partner, Arthur had thought nothing of Alfred's stoicism. He must have been worried, shocked, frightened, so many things, it was no surprise his smile wasn't present, like it usually was. Alfred, naturally, was unendingly good-natured person, meaning it was all the more obvious when he had phases of quiet or something was bothering him. The car crash had displaced both of their moods, all Alfred wanted was for Arthur to get better and Arthur wanted to get out of the hospital as fast as possible.
It took him all those weeks to notice that, ever since Arthur had regained consciousness, Alfred hadn't smiled once. There had been no jokes, nor displays of affection or general silliness that the American was prone to. It continued even when Arthur was released from care, and his physical health had improved massively, upon arriving at their apartment for the first time since the accident, the relief of being home and safe again never manifested.
Raindrops slid lazily down the window Arthur was gazing through. Outside, the metal and grey of skyscrapers glinted in the weather. The people wandering the streets of New York were circles of colour to Arthur, as they hid under their umbrellas. A longing to return to England blossomed in him and he couldn't seem to quash it while his thoughts had strayed from the book in his lap. He wasn't fond of the big cities of America but some of the more rural states could be breath-taking.
"Hey, Arthur, you want me to make you something to eat?" Matthew called from another room; Arthur assumed it would be the kitchen.
"No thank you, I'm perfectly capable of making my own meals," Arthur replied, somewhat waspishly but he was too tired to conjure any sort of real anger and none of this was Matthew's fault, it was unfair to take this out on him. Alfred's brother didn't say anything and carried on clanking around in the kitchen. Alfred would have scoffed or laughed at Arthur's answer, at one point, commenting that Arthur couldn't cook anything that wasn't lethal to humans. As it was, the Englishman was on paid sick-leave for the next fortnight so he could fully recuperate and Alfred was at work. Matthew, who was currently unemployed, had offered to pop by to check up on him which meant Alfred had persuaded his brother to play babysitter.
Arthur sighed.
One Friday morning, in June, Arthur had kissed Alfred on the forehead, took one last sip of his cold tea and bid his boyfriend goodbye before heading off to work. He was an English literature teacher at one of the private schools in the midst of the city. Leaving at precisely 7:45am was a common routine since he could reach the school for 8:30am. It had been a perfectly normal morning, nothing different about the day at all, except for colliding into a taxi at one of the crossroads. He'd suffered head trauma and a broken wrist, both of his legs had been twisted into abnormal, painful positions but he had survived without any serious damage other than the occasional nightmare and the legs of an eighty year old.
No one had expected there'd be permanent damage to Alfred, who had become a different person altogether since the event. He didn't see Arthur anymore, not like he used to, all he did was worry. He'd become paranoid and had started treating Arthur like his patient rather than his lover. With each day this carried on, the more difficult it became and it was evident to everyone except Alfred – for this reason, no one had said a word to him. Arthur could still remember Alfred's parents visiting him in hospital and the shock on their faces when Alfred clinically recited Arthur's injuries and his strict schedule towards getting better. He could only shake his head at them, knowing exactly what their eyes were asking.
What's wrong with Alfred?
It wasn't possible to bring anything up; everyone was riddled with guilt and was hoping it was a phase Alfred was going through from the residual shock. The hospital had called Alfred approximately an hour after Arthur was emitted, Matthew had been there when he answered the call and said Alfred was stunned into silence, leaving the phone to clatter on the floor.
"Thinking about Alfred again?" Matthew asked, interrupting the Englishman's thoughts.
"Hmm?" Arthur didn't pay attention as he sat down on the opposite side of the window seat. "Oh- thank you," the blonde man said, jumping when a hot cup of tea was presented to him and the Canadian nodded back, smiling sympathetically over the rim of the mug he was holding.
"He'll come back round," Matthew assured quietly, "he just needs more time. He can't help it, I don't think, it just really shook him up." Arthur threw his friend a despairing look. "You two have been inseparable since he was thirteen; nothing bad is going to happen, Arthur. I guess we just need to leave him to it until he gets over the fact that he nearly lost you."
"Matthew, it's December, he's been like this for over half a year," Arthur muttered, batting his eyelashes as the hot steam rising from his beverage blurred his vision. "And we're still walking on eggshells around him."
Matthew exhaled noisily through his nose and whispered, "I know."
"I'll talk to him soon." Arthur took a sip of his tea and gauged Matthew's expression. He seemed unsurprised really, but still a little hesitant.
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" he murmured after a few silent minutes.
"I've given him long enough, I think, I need my Alfred back." Rising from the plump pillow he'd been sitting on, Arthur's legs gave a little tremble like they always did when he tried to use them – it was steadily getting less noticeable, however. He was much slower now but he couldn't complain, a lot of victims lost all feeling in their legs or lose them all together so for the most part, Arthur was actually quite thankful. "I'm going to get some biscuits," he informed Alfred with a forced smile then plodded away.
The kitchen smelt quite nice, sweet, since Matthew had a preference for sugary food. Arthur reached for the biscuit tin, this being the highlight of his day, which had become very uneventful. The sound of the front door clicking closed reached Arthur's ears and he knew Alfred had just arrived home; his footsteps were followed by the clunk of him dropping his briefcase wherever he pleased. Always making a bloody mess. Alfred worked as a nuclear scientist of some sort, a fancy, scientific occupation that Arthur didn't have the time for. He'd studied hard for the job, Arthur had been so proud when he'd been emailed an offer from a reputable establishment. It had made him smile so much, Arthur couldn't help but stupidly smile back, not to mention Alfred's ego had inflated considerably but Arthur had given him a clout over the head before he went too far.
Whilst the Englishman munched on a tea-dipped biscuit, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, he could hear Alfred and Matthew speaking about him.
"…he's just in the kitchen," Matthew was saying chirpily.
"I keep telling you that he can't do too much walking around, Mattie." Alfred didn't come across as stern, or angry, or even authoritative. In fact, he seemed slightly disappointed.
"He's been sat here reading his book for most of the day, I'm sure a little stroll to the kitchen won't make a difference," Matthew countered, his voice more equal, serious, now.
"That's not the point-"
Arthur picked this moment to intervene, not wanting Matthew to be Alfred's metaphorical punching bag yet again; he had been too kind and too accommodating for Alfred to treat him as such. Even if Arthur didn't exactly agree with the near-constant care, since he could take care of himself, Matthew had still done what he'd thought was best and Arthur really appreciated it.
"Alfred, honestly, I'm going back to work in little under two weeks – I can walk perfectly fine."
The tall man turned to face Arthur, it saddened him how Alfred's eyes could appear exactly as before yet entirely different. In his mind, he scolded himself, what had been expecting? This to be the day Alfred finally became himself again; for his partner to turn around and actually look at him. He hoped for that every day and it didn't happen. The skin between his brows creased when his expression flattened into a frown.
"I still don't think you're ready to go back to work," he argued.
"Perhaps not now, but I will be in two weeks, when it's time for me to go back," Arthur responded lightly, stepping further towards Alfred. Matthew looked distinctly uncomfortable but this was a relatively familiar sight for him so he could sit down and tune himself out easily. Alfred never greeted him as Arthur was accustomed to, with hugs and kisses and invasions of personal space, he hardly ever said the word 'hello' now.
"Just don't overdo it, Artie, I know what you're like," Alfred cautioned wearingly. Arthur's heart warmed a little at the habitual, albeit ridiculous, nickname that Arthur had always loathed yet Alfred insisted on calling him that. It reminded him that he wasn't living with a total stranger and this wasn't any of their faults, no matter how much it angered him, he couldn't blame Alfred for caring too much and being upset. He was lost underneath it all, but just wouldn't confide in Arthur anymore. "How are you feeling?" the American man questioned tentatively.
"I'm fine Alfred," Arthur said shortly, folding his arms over his chest. Alfred's eyes narrowed behind his glasses. Damn overprotective git.
"Well, guys, I'm going to head off," Matthew announced, obviously having sensed the tension, he collected the rucksack he'd left on the dining room table and moved towards the front door. "I'll see you tomorrow?"
"That isn't necessary; you don't have to stop by every day. Honestly Matthew, I don't want you to have to give up all your free time for me." The face, so similar to Alfred's, tilted inquisitively. "Please…" Arthur enforced in response to the expression. Matthew's eyes darted to Alfred who mumbled something about 'sorting it out' and the Canadian nodded then left with a barely-there farewell.
"Stop sending your brother round now, I'm not a child."
Alfred groaned, like he'd heard this a thousand times before. "I know you're not a child, I'm just-"
"Taking care of me, I know," Arthur said around a deep breath, meeting eyes with Alfred. Those bright blue eyes stared on, oblivious to Arthur's exhaustion, and the utter forlorn in his boyfriend's expression put Arthur off bringing up anything about his behaviour. Maybe another night but, for now, he'd been a coward yet again.
The rainstorm was heavier now, the droplets pounding against the windows and Arthur realised that Alfred's hair was drenched. He'd arrived home from a long day of working to Arthur, who was already being testy and a wave of guilt washed over the Englishman. "How was work, love?" Arthur asked, now more congenially, nearing Alfred and pecking him on the cheek.
"Uh, y'know, long. And I'm starving," Alfred groaned and his stomach did so as well in tandem, as if to prove his point. "I could eat the whole fridge, seriously." He bypassed Arthur, making a beeline for the fridge, evidently.
"I'd rather you wouldn't eat the fridge, we need that to store the food in," Arthur said, grinning towards Alfred's retreating back, the other man only grunted in agreement. The grin disappeared immediately as Arthur remembered Alfred insisting he got a kiss on the lips when Arthur only went in for his cheek. He didn't even register kisses anymore.
Eek, I don't know what to say ( ；´Д｀) *hides in corner*