a/N: This was my pinch hit for aias13aura on the LJ secret santa. Prompt was: a gory/christmas themed alice in wonderland.
USUK
Alfred could hear nothing but the rhythmic beeping of hospital machinery. Outside, doctors were talking; patients screaming and mothers crying. But, the American could not hear any of them. All he cared for was the sound of the machines, mimicking that of a heartbeat: life itself.
The life of the man who lay among pristine white sheets of a metal bed, his eyes unawakened for the past year. Arthur Kirkland. The person Alfred held closest to his life.
"Hey, Arthur. It's Christmas!" the blue eyed male smiled down at the unmoving body. Arthur was sleeping. For twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, he slept, with Alfred as his only visitor. "I'd open the window for you so we could listen to the caroller's outside but...the Doc said no! Something about it being cold!" The blue eyed male laughed. "You can handle it, can't you?"
The only response to the teenager's laughter was the steady alert. Alfred was used to the silence though; he knew that until Arthur opened his eyes, his words were the only ones to fill it.
"Christmas holidays end in a week! It's gonna be boring heading off to school without ya!" The American ran his hand over the sleeping teen's hair. It was a strange sight: a high school boy caressing the head of his best friend. But, no one was there to complain. Certainly not Alfred. And certainly not Arthur. "Last semester 'til we graduate too! I'm thinking of going to a college close to here so I can keep visiting you!"
Even with no one watching, Alfred's smile never ceased to fade as the words left his mouth. He wanted Arthur to wake up to a smile.
The American staggered upwards, flattening his hair as he shuffled towards the bathroom. A reflection of a frozen smile and tired eyes stared back at him. If Alfred had not been wearing casual clothing, one might've thought that he himself was a patient.
The doctors had said that the green eyed male -
He had -
Alfred scrunched his eyebrows as he splashed water over his face. He watched the water drip down into the porcelain sink, trying to keep his thoughts together. Lack of sleep was weighing down on him; his thoughts gone with his rest.
What had the man done?
The reason Arthur slept, never opening his eyes. What was it?
Alfred's thoughts drew blank. They refused to give even a single clue. It was frustrating. Alfred should know this. He should have been able to remember. He didn't.
"Hey, when are you going to wake up?" the blond haired man asked, forcing his feet to lead him back to Arthur's bedside. He knew there was no point in asking; the other teen could not answer. Still, it was one of those things that always eased the mind.
Alfred watched the snow fall outside the window; it was peaceful and quiet just as Arthur was. He couldn't decide whether that was a good thing: the silence. As long as it wasn't infinite...then maybe it was.
"FUCK THIS! I'M LATE! LUDDIE IS GOING TO BE PISSED!"
Alfred flinched at the sudden holler. He could feel the building shudder as a clatter grew violent beyond the hospital room.
"Damn it! If he hates the awesome me being late all the time why the hell does he make me wear crappy clothes that are so hard to move in?!"
Alfred shot up, heading towards the door where the silence seemed to end. Other than the one voice, he could hear no doctors shouting nor nurses rushing in to shush the noise. It wasn't as though he despised it; the American knew for sure that most days he was the one that the doctors told to shut up. But, Arthur was still sleeping.
And if he would just wake up, the Briton would surely get mad about the irritating commotion. He would chastise everyone involved; tell them to shut up and leave him be. If only Arthur would wake up.
"Hey! This is a hospital, know!" Alfred shouted as he swung the door open. He was not prepared for a shadow to slip by him and into the room. Especially in only a second's time.
"Yes! Found you, Hatter!"
Alfred frowned at the intruder – noting him to be an albino from his hair and eye colour. The man was staring at his best friend with unadulterated glee, searching through the pockets of his black waistcoat with excitement.
"Hey, what're you doing?" Alfred stepped over towards the man, forcefully grabbing his arm. This man was a stranger; he had no right to be here. Ultimately, Alfred wasn't going to let him disturb Arthur.
"Dude, look, I think you got the wrong room."
The intruder was untroubled by the teenager's words. He continued on with searching his pockets; his smile widening when he evidently found the object of his search.
A sharp silver entity that reflected the whiteness of the room as it cut through the air.
A knife.
Shock paralysed Alfred's limbs. Questions pricked at the teen's mind, keeping all movement frozen. Was this real? Or had the hospital staff finally decided to play a joke on him – just like all the games he had played with them?
"The Queen says he wants your head, Hatter! I gotta get it or else Luddie is gonna have mine!" The intruder swung his free arm downward, the knife aimed directly at the flesh of Arthur's neck. The metal flickered in the light; it was real. This man was trying to murder Arthur.
Like hell was Alfred going to let him.
The blue eyed male twitched, his limbs unfreezing as he shoved the intruder to the side. He could hear the chair that he had just been seated in moments before clatter as the man tumbled to the ground. Strangely, the Albino's face remained frozen in his expression of glee; the weapon still in hand.
Adrenaline quickened the blood in Alfred's veins, giving him the power to confront the unwelcome intruder. The man before him was a threat. To Arthur. To himself. He needed to be the hero.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"
Alfred bared his fists at the madman, shuddering when only a confused expression fell on the other's face. It was as though he couldn't understand the crime he was trying to commit.
"I'm late! The Queen wanted me to execute the Hatter; but I have to do it before I have tea time with the King. It's tea time already!"
The answer was straight forward and blunt, as if the albino was expecting his words to be the only explanation needed. They only served to confirm Alfred's suspicions that the man was insane.
"Get out!" Alfred ordered, keeping his guard up as the man began to strut towards him. The albino was now staring at Alfred's effort with a mix of amusement and annoyance. Both emotions were short lived though as he returned his attention back to the sleeping male. His knife raised once more.
"I said, get the fuck out!"
Alfred tackled the man a second time, forcing the two of them to fly into the machines. Alfred could feel the machinery dig into his side at the collision; all groans of pain muted by the transformation of the steady rhythm into a constant ear-ringing beep. Arthur's IV came loose, leaving a small trickle of blood to taint the once pure bed sheets.
"Stop getting in my way!"
The blond teen's eyes met with silver as the target of the man's malice was turned on him. He could see the irritation and insanity reflected in the albino's eyes as the man brought his weapon down on the younger male.
If Alfred had remained where he was, death would have been certain. But, the American wasn't the type to go down with a fight. The teenager slammed against the smaller man's body, pushing him against the window.
"Why are you trying to kill him?!"
Alfred took dominance over the fight, twisting the knife out of the Albino's grip. It was a fearful thing to see that there was no surprise nor fear in the man's gaze. Even with Alfred pinning him to the window with the threat of smashing his head in the glass.
"The Hatter is to be executed by order of the Royal Court."
That was the only answer the blue eyed male heard as he felt the window give way. The pane of glass fell through of the frame that had once kept it secure. Alfred could feel the wind pull him through into open air, into the sky that reflected the colour of his eyes. And into a greyness that overtook his world.
Then darkness.
Usuk
Alfred jerked awake, the memories of the hospital room rushing to his consciousness.
The man with the red eyes. The intruder with a knife aimed at Arthur.
Falling out the window.
"SHIT!" Alfred gave a yell, crawling quickly to his feet at the picture of the pavement closing in. He blinked, forcing the images out of his mind. Instead, he glanced around, noticing that the ground in which he lay was neither cement nor gravel. Just pure dust and dirt.
Alfred wasn't at the hospital anymore. Nor was it snowing.
There was no insane man with a knife. In fact, there wasn't anyone at all. Only him.
The blond was surrounded by an outreach of trees extending high above. His eyes could not reflect even a single flicker of sky. Yet despite the fact that no sun shone where he stood, there was an almost blinding amount of light blinking incessantly among the trees.
A forest. Alfred was in a forest – surrounded by the multitude of colours that only Christmas decorated trees ever exuded. Because that what they were.
A forest filled with nothing but Christmas trees.
Red. Blue. Yellow. Green.
Angels and stars reaching to the top; gifts, newly wrapped, resting underneath. Tinsel all around. Even mistletoe hanging on branches.
A brightly lit world that every child dreamt of.
"Where the hell am I?" the blue eyed male muttered, wide eyed. He fell from a hospital window. If not dead, Alfred should have been lying injured on the cement pavement. And that red eyed man should have been dying with him.
What if the man had gone after Arthur?
"Fuck!" Alfred swore, breaking into a sprint; he peeled his eyes for the grey-white building that housed the ill, the sleeping and the dying. If the man was going after the comatose male then Alfred had to be there to protect him...he was a hero after all.
The American continued to run, only pausing once or twice to catch his breath. His entire surroundings remained constant – unchanging no matter how much time passed in his pace. Alfred wiped his brow, scrunching his face at the amount of moisture that stuck to his hand. The sky was still unseen and with his phone left lying on Arthur's bedside, he had no way of knowing the time.
How many seconds, minutes, hours had he been running?
Alfred didn't know.
But, even within the unchanging sight of trees; Alfred could begin to hear a new sound in the distance.
"Jingle bells! Jingle bells! Jingle all the way, da!"
Off tune singing. Or yelling more like. A welcome change compared to the constant whistle of the wind. Alfred turned his head towards the sound's direction. He was graced with the sight of a giant man with violet eyes strutting among the trees, merrily. Dressed in a Santa suit complete with a bulging gift sack.
"Role play?" Alfred immediately voiced his opinion on the strange scene. He allowed his feet to subconsciously lead him towards the first living person seen since awakening.
"Hey!"
Alfred waved his arms, trying to win over the other man's attentions. It was an easy venture as the Santa dressed man turned his head towards the teen, silencing as their eyes met. The man's body followed his head, sack dropping to his side.
Only then, when the bag was in full view did Alfred notice the puddle of red pooling under it. And it was just when he noticed that, did a hand escape the opening of the bag, limp and stained crimson. The giant took notice, slipping an iron pipe from his sleeve and grinning a smile reminiscent to the previous white haired intruder.
"Ah! The bells stopped ringing!" the man sang, his voice a giggle tinged tone. He raised his arm, swinging down the pipe on the bag. A crunch echoed across the forest, the only sound as Alfred remained frozen under bated breath. Then the giant began to sing a song.
"Jingle Bells~"
Crunch.
"Jingle Bells~"
Crunch.
"Jingle all the way!"
Alfred could feel the bile rise in his throat at the sound of every crack. He could barely keep from vomiting as he watched the limb twitch with each strike of metal. This had to be a dream. Because there was no way he could have survived the fall outside the window. And the chances of him meeting someone like this. It was improbable – impossible.
The blue eyed male felt another episode of nausea overcome him. He was just at the hospital. He was visiting Arthur for Christmas – talking to the person who was most precious to him.
So why was he here? Why was this happening to him?
"Hello, da? Are you a new bell?"
Alfred's heart froze in his chest as he noticed the man approaching closer. The pipe was wielded high; a weapon of certain death in comparison to the fists the teenager bore. Alfred stood his ground despite his disadvantage, blue eyes dilated in fear.
Alfred F. Jones was simply an eighteen year old high school senior.
His fists that won dozens of brawls meant nothing with a madman as an enemy. All the training he had done in football fields could not help him with a pipe aimed for his head.
He was a goner.
Crunch.
"What...?"
Alfred's question was his last whisper, metal silencing his throat of words. They were replaced by pain filled screams as iron struck against flesh – rupturing bone and blood underneath.
Alfred was in agony. He could feel his very bones break. His flesh tear. And hear his own screams.
Pain pain pain.
Why?
The blond staggered backwards, unable to keep his eyes off the figure of his attacker. Violet eyes and silver hair; a cat-like grin permanently carved into his face. A monster.
Alfred could hear his heart beat against his ears as he clutched at the arm that laid limp against his side. It was broken; there wan't much blood but the teenager could feel the bone jutting out against his skin. The warmth of his life dripping from his arm.
He was going to die.
"Ring for me, da?"
And the iron pipe came down once more.
His eyes shut, nails digging into dirt, Alfred held his breath; waiting for the imminent blow.
But it failed to come. What arrived was a shadow, stepping over Alfred's fallen form. The pipe gripped tightly in a fist.
The man was still there but, so was another. A smaller male, clutching at the pipe that was only inches from Alfred's head. The surrounding Christmas lights blinded the teen from seeing the figure clearly.
"Cheshire cat. Good evening."
Even with his sight disabled, Alfred could still hear. Despite his mind hazed with pain and fear, he was still able to recognize that voice.
The deep tenor that had been absent from his life for exactly a year.
"Ah, Hatter! It is evening?"
The teenager watched as both males looked to the sky, silent for a single moment. It was as if they were contemplating the time of day, ignorant of the fact that he lay there – injured. Or the fact that the smaller of all three was clutching at the blood stained pipe that was in the giant's – Cheshire cat's - possession.
"Well, it's tea time, so I would assume so." The man who had saved Alfred's life spoke. His voice were strong and clear; confirming Alfred's hopes.
This was the voice of Arthur Kirkland.
Someone who had been lying in a hospital bed the last time Alfred had saw him.
It was impossible.
"Arthur?" the injured teen whispered, syllables rasp against his throat. He didn't know if it was the pain, fear, or shock suppressing his voice. In fact, it was a surprise Alfred was still able to speak. But, his one hope gave him strength. That maybe the man in front him was really the form of Arthur Kirkland allowed the blue eyed teen to express himself.
Alfred's whispering garnered both attentions of the other males. To the teenager's relief, the form of his friend did not reflect the glee that the men he had so far met exuded. His face was passive; eyes just as green as Alfred remembered them.
But still: his expression was not recognizable.
The character of Arthur Kirkland always had a frown on his face, one neutral in sleep. In the rare instances of a smile – one that the teenager had graced solely for the American – the corners of his eyes would always wrinkle in honesty.
This man's face beheld nothing... No emotion betrayed by his features. Yet, there was sliver recognition of the teenager in his eyes. And it was that sight that Alfred clung to. As if sleeping, even with eyes open.
"Hey, you're Arthur, right? You're Arthur."
Alfred tried to convince himself of the uncertain thought even as his mind started to reel – fatigue and confusion taking its toll.
He didn't know what was happening to him. He didn't know where he was.
People were trying to kill him. Familiar surroundings were gone.
Those that should be sleeping were now gazing at him with unreadable regard.
Alfred's entire world had cracked.
"Why are you here?"
The man that was and was not Arthur spoke to him directly. His voice was identical, his accent unchanged.
Everything about him belonged to Arthur.
"Here?" Alfred repeated the green eyed man's question; his confusion growing with every word spoken.
In response to teenager's answer, Arthur's face broke into an expression of irritation. This, Alfred recognized. His heart throbbed at the very sight of the man. Even in a crazed world, the green eyed male was his only constant.
Arthur released the pipe in his grip, throwing the Cheshire cat a silent warning with his gaze. His attention trained on the injured figure, the green eyed blond crouched down – staring at the other man at face level.
"Do you not know where you are?"
Arthur questioned him, his tone being that of a parent preparing to chastise a misbehaving child. As if to ask: 'Do you understand what you did wrong?'
Alfred shook his head head slightly. His tongue was caught between his lips, his eyes frozen on the living – awaken – eyes of his friend.
The smaller of the blonds did not seem pleased with the response, for he asked another question. "Don't you remember your crime?"
More than the first, and even the second, the third question left Alfred bewildered. He had no answers for the green eyed male.
Nor any for himself. Yet his questions, just like Arthur's were plenty.
"How did you come to Wonderland?"
Alfred did not answer.
At the teen's confusion, the green eyed man stepped backwards, spreading his arms wide as if to introduce the stage. He bowed down theatrically to the fallen male.
"This is world of the unwanted, the forgotten and the despised." Arthur met Alfred's gaze once more. He tilted his head to examine Alfred's entirety – broken arm, stained clothing. "If you are here, then surely you must have committed a crime. To be hated to the point of being cast here."
Arthur smoothed over the wrinkles of his sleeves; his clothes were that of suit ensemble. Forest green with a dark grey overcoat, reminiscent to that of Victorian era dress. He was sporting a black top hat, old and worn on his head. It was grand comparison to Alfred's faded jeans and short sleeves.
"What?" the blue eyed male's question was barely voiced above a whisper. He reached towards the familiar figure, pulling at the edge of the other teen's coat with his good arm. "Arthur? What are you talking about?"
The man instantly responded. "I am called the Hatter. The one who is both unwanted and despised."
He glanced in distaste at Alfred's grip on his clothing. Ultimately though, the green eyed male did nothing to brush it off. But, in the end it meant nothing. Because no matter how tight Alfred's clutch had been, there was no point if there was no one in front of him to hold.
And that was the case when Arthur went flying, tumbling to the ground with blood staining his temple.
"JINGLE~"
The Cheshire cat stepped in between the two blonds, swinging his pipe in circles beside him.
"I saw the bell first, da? So I get to play before you!"
Alfred's mouth gaped, his attentions alternating between the madman and his fallen friend. He tried to stand up, dragging his feet in Arthur's direction. Even with his arm broken, his feet weak with fatigue, the American made his way in front of the teen. A shield from the Cheshire cat.
"Ah! You want to play with me?" The giant giggled, expressing his delight in Alfred's efforts. He raised his weapon against the helpless male.
But, Alfred continued to dig his feet into the ground – unmoving. "I won't let you hurt Arthur!"
Crunch.
The blue eyed male felt the first blow to his shoulder. He expected it – knew it was coming – but still: there was nothing he could do but buckle under the pain. And when another blow slammed into his abdomen; there was nothing else that could be accomplished but the vomiting of blood mixed bile and spit on the ground.
"Really, are you bloody daft?"
The landscape in front of Alfred blurred. Pain contorting it into nothing but smudges of colour and light. He struggled to stay conscious, hardly able to keep track of the passing events. The American didn't even know if the question he heard was real or not. Delusions were not unfamiliar to him.
How many times had he woken up in the past, believing that Arthur would text him 'Good morning'? Then remember: Arthur had -
"This world is not like yours."
Alfred forced his mind to process the words that flew into his ears. He could see Arthur rise up from the ground. Hear him speak. Feel the ground vibrate as the teen brushed himself off, striding easily towards the Cheshire cat.
"Here, everyone is a criminal. I, the worst of them all."
Alfred thoughts collapsed. His consciousness fell black.
USUK
The second time the blue eyed male woke up, he was comfortable. Unlike the dirt and rocks he had opened his eyes to at the arrival of wonderland, there was a cushion under his body. A blanket protecting him from the wind. No pain.
"If you're awake, then why not pour yourself a cup of tea?"
Alfred blinked, groping his face for his glasses. The world was nothing but a blur without them; the male was defenceless – blind. Luckily though, they were still on his face.
"What?" The blue eyed male wiped the sleep from his eyes. Had his mind been more alert, he would have noticed that the arm that he had used was his broken one.
"What, what, bloody what!" A mocking tone shot at Alfred's consciousness. "Is that the only thing you can say? What?"
The American's mind snapped into clarity at the words. He noted his surroundings. Alfred was seated at the end of long wooden table, capable of holding four seats on either side. And one at every end.
There was a cooked turkey at the table's centr. Surrounded by a multitude of dishes. Mashed potatoes. Stuffing. Ham.
The perfect Christmas dinner.
Alfred was at one end of the table. Arthur was at another.
If the world were kind, this very moment would have been a fulfilment of one of Alfred's greatest wishes. But, it was not.
There were three other people at the table, but the American failed to recognize any them. They all seemed to be resting; heads to their knees, arms limp beside them.
Dead or sleeping.
"Arthur?" The blue eyed male's gaze trailed along the table, meeting the sight of the man on the other side. Arthur was dressed as he had been; prim and proper without a trace of blood on him. He was alright. He was okay. He was awake.
"When did you wake up?!" Alfred jumped to his feet, staring at his friend with a pressing gaze. It was an expression tinged with desperation. And hope.
Arthur took a sip from the tea cup off his table. He peered at Alfred over the porcelain. A smile that failed to wrinkle the corner of his eyes graced his features.
"This is Wonderland, boy. The place of the unwanted." He took another sip off his teacup. "Things that the world no longer cares for are simply cast away here. Never sleeping."
"Huh?" Alfred's mouth gaped; his mind failing to follow the conversation. What was Arthur saying?
"Wonderland?" Alfred frowned. "As in, 'Alice in wonderland?'"
He pulled himself to the side of table, shuffling towards his seated friend. "Isn't that a book?" He reached his hand towards the green eyed male. "What are you talking about, Arthur?"
The smaller blond continued with his drink; he was following the other's pace with his eyes. Alfred kept with his reach, taking one of Arthur's hands in his. He clutched at the limb between his fingers tightly, acting as though he would never hold it again.
"You probably just woke up, huh?" The American started to talk. "Maybe you're still confused since it's been a year since you were last awake!"
Arthur took another sip. "Why are you treating me like a bloody child?" He twisted his head to meet Alfred's gaze. "Aren't you the ignorant one here?"
The green eyed male shoved the larger man away suddenly in a single violent motion. It was a strength that was unlike Arthur; the man had always been swift and sharp before his coma. But, muscles were Alfred's speciality. Even so, the teen had the power to force him to the ground – lifting his chair with his free hand as he stood up and pinning the American underneath. All while drinking tea.
"How many times do I have to say it? This is Wonderland." Arthur sat back down on his chair, Alfred still trapped beneath. He peered down at the man. "The UNWANTED. FORGOTTEN. DESPISED. They are all cast here."
With a sigh, the green eyed blond strode off the chair, heading towards the nearest figure resting at the table. Alfred was left ignored for the moment; he struggled against the chair yet it refused to budge. Its weight was beyond the American's strength.
"Blind obedience: The White Rabbit." Arthur tipped the chair over, it's passenger falling onto the ground beside the blue eyed male. Alfred had a clear view of who it was.
The intruder.
Bloody. Beaten. His neck twisted in way that was not anatomically correct. Eyes dull in his sockets, staring right at the blue eyed teen – just inches away.
Alfred could taste iron in his mouth as he choked on his breath. He could hear his heart beat his ears and his mind scream.
"He would kill a man just because someone asked him to. No will of his own: Unwanted."
Arthur went to the other side of the table, dragging the other two chairs that carried passengers. He dumped their contents beside Alfred once more.
"Murderous intent: the Cheshire cat"
The man who had attacked Alfred with an iron pipe. Skull cracked open; his head stained with blood to the point that the skin underneath was unseeable.
"Despised."
Alfred shut his eyes closed, suppressing a whimper as Arthur kicked the next figure towards him. He was sure that it was going to be another dead body.
"STOP IT, Arthur! What are you doing?! What the hell is happening?!" the blue eyed male shouted, blind. His breath erratic; his body trapped between corpses. But, Arthur didn't answer him. Just waited as the seconds passed into minutes: until Alfred was forced to open his eyes.
The man whose face was in front of him was not bloody. But, it was just as dead as all the others. Gaunt, pale and a reflection of Alfred's own face.
"Loneliness: The Dorm Mouse. Forgotten."
Alfred's breath stopped. His mouth opened as he tried to touch the corpse's face. But, the chair kept his reach short.
"Matthew. That's Matthew." Alfred struggled violently in his prison. But, his power was not enough. "WHY IS MATTHEW HERE?! ARTHUR!"
Alfred's twin. His brother. His blood.
Arthur only tilted his head impassively. "I don't remember."
The green eyed male sat back onto the seat that kept Alfred immobilized.
"We're missing another person. I wasn't able to invite the March Hare to the party. He was too busy fornicating with someone elsewhere to arrive." Arthur glanced at Alfred's terrified expression. "Bottomless lust. I despise him."
Arthur refilled his cup from the pot. "Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"
He returned to the make shift prison, standing above it and peering at the blue eyed teen. "For you to be here: WHAT WAS YOUR SIN?"
Alfred's breath was erratic; his mind confused. What was happening?
"I'm dreaming." Alfred chuckled under unshed tears of fear. "This is a dream, isn't it!?" His laugh trembled in his chest. "I fell asleep by your bedside...! You're still in a coma! You...!"
The smaller blond's eyes narrowed, his face twisting vilely. He tore at Alfred's hair, forcing the male to stretch his neck bare to ease the pain from the pressure. "I assure you, Alfred, this is not a dream!" He gripped at Alfred's chin, brutally opening the man's mouth against the his will. He brought his tea cup above Alfred's face – threatening to pour its contents down.
"I, what?" Arthur asked, crouching beside the male. Alfred tilted his head to meet the man's gaze; his expression was shaky – unable to convey the extent of his fear. And his confusion He rasped out a single word. "Last Christmas you...!"
The smaller of the two blond's stared in disappointment at the man's lack of answer. Still, he pressed Alfred for another response. "What, Alfred? I, the Hatter. I, Arthur Kirkland. What was it that I did? You remember, don't you? YOU REMEMBER."
The cup tipped as Alfred shut his eyes once more in hope to keep scalding fluid out of his eyes. But, the liquid that Arthur had been drinking was hot. It wasn't even tea.
Cough syrup. It was cough syrup.
Alfred dry heaved, choking on the viscous, dark red fluid. The taste of bitterness was overpowering the medicine's false sweetness on his tongue. It's stickiness dripping down the teen's cheeks. He could do nothing as he felt his stomach try to force its empty contents up his throat.
"TELL ME, Alfred! Because you were the one of the two who requested I be brought here. To this world that humans themselves have forsaken."
Arthur reached into the pocket of his heavy overcoat, retrieving a piece of lined, loose-leaf paper. Alfred could see smudged pencil scribble written messily along the lines. He read it out loud.
"DeAr ArTHur kIRklanD,
YoU HaVE BeeN GraCIousLY InVITed tO WoNderLAND. It hAS BeEn NoTEd tHat you ArE NO LONGER WELCOME IN YOUR WORLD. As Per REquEST of AlFRED F. JONES AND Y-, yOU Will bE BrOUGhT To WoNDerland. We DO hope YOU enjoy YOUR StAy.
- The Queen of Hearts"
Arthur dropped the paper into Alfred's hand. The blue eyed male allowed the wind to carry it away. Then Hatter spoke once more.
"So, tell me. What did I do wrong, ALFRED F. JONES!?"
Alfred shook his head. "I don't know!" He was unable to meet Arthur's eyes. "I don't remember!"
The green eyed male scoffed, straightening up. He brought his foot down onto Alfred's wrist, relishing in the groan of pain that was ripped from the teen's lungs. Arthur laughed. "Really, you're so weak! Aren't you supposed to be the Hero? The invincible superhero that everyone loves?" He twisted his foot. "I fixed this arm for you out of goodness of my heart. I think I'll take back that kindness."
Alfred's breath shuddered as he felt the pain of his wrist cracking. But, even with the pain, the blue eyed male used the little strength he had to pull at the fabric of Arthur's pant leg.
"I never wanted you to go." Alfred whispered, his voice unable to go any louder. Cough syrup still stuck to his throat – clogging and burning down his larynx. "Everyday. Everyday, I visited you at the hospital. I promised to protect you even when you were sleeping. That'd I'd keep smiling so I could be you're hero." He let the tears that even pain nor the sight of corpses could obtain, flow out onto the dirt. "You're important to me. The most important person ever, Artie."
Arthur stared down at him, his laughter fading. "If you're such a saint then, why are you here? In this world where only the hated go?"
Alfred shook his head; he turned it more violently than usually. Almost like he was trying to force the tears to fly off his face and disappear. "I don't know."
The green eyed male stepped over Alfred's hand, kicking the chair that imprisoned the teenager away. Yet despite his confinement gone, Alfred stayed where he was. He didn't know what to do next. Nor if there was anything he could do.
"Where is your invite?"
Arthur stepped back to the end of the table, staring at the tea pot that graced the plain furniture. He made no movement to reach for it – only gaze at it blankly. As if the porcelain was more worthy of his attention than Alfred.
"Invite?" Alfred coughed as he forced himself to sit. The medicine was still clinging to the walls of his throat; he had no water to wash it down.
Arthur continued to stare at his tea pot. "To enter Wonderland, one must have an invitation from the Queen. I showed you mine." Alfred noticed the sheet of paper that he had left drift beside him. He plucked the letter from the ground, reading it over himself.
"...as per request of Alfred F. Jones." the blue eyed male read. He noticed that the next few words were smudged; the pencil faded with age. Alfred squinted it, hoping the action would allow him to read it. "Alfred F. Jones and...yourself."
As per request of himself. Did Arthur want to come here? Why would he?
"If you don't have an invitation you shouldn't be here." Arthur whispered, breaking his gaze with the inanimate object to turn his head to the American. He stared down at the man with dark eyes. "You don't belong here."
He stepped towards Alfred. And the bodies that surrounded him.
"I'll take you to the Queen," Arthur stated, dragging the body of the White Rabbit from the tangle of the other two. He stomped on the man's abdomen – abusing the corpse further as Alfred gaped in horror. "Get the bloody hell up, you stupid rabbit."
Blood splattered on Arthur's shoe but the man beheld no pity on the corpse. He even laughed when a bone cracked.
"Arthur, stop it!" Alfred shouted, concentrating his courage into a single action. He reached up, grabbing Arthur's leg – preventing him from bringing it down once more on the disabled body. "He's dead! He's not going to wake up!"
"The unwanted cannot die. They never disappear no matter how much people wish them to," was Arthur's reply. And it rang true, because the man blinked – rising up from the dead with a groan.
Of all the horror movies that Alfred have ever watched – with their undead zombies, decaying bodies bubbling with rotted liquid – what was in front of the American could not compare. The snap of bone, the splash of blood – film and fiction could not come close to its reality.
"Hatter..." the red eyed corpse rasped. "By order...of the Queen...you are to be executed."
The green eyed male scoffed, glowering down at the man. "Always the obedient little drone, aren't you?" He shook his leg out of Alfred's grip, aiming another kick at the White Rabbit. "He's a finicky little man, the Queen. Gives orders then takes them away the moment later." He leaned in to whisper into the albino's ear. "That order was rescinded a dozen tea times ago. Did he not tell you? What of your brother, the king?"
The reanimated corpse twisted his head to meet the eyes of his abuser. "They..." He began to make out another sentence, though his consciousness continued to waver. "...didn't..."
"Take me to the court, White Rabbit," Arthur interrupted. He reached into the flap of the man's waist coat, retrieving a silver pocket watch. "I have business with the Queen. And you can finally have that tea time you've always wished to be rewarded with."
Alfred watched Arthur drop the watch into the albino's hand. The man peered over at it with the little strength he had, clicking it open. With his fingers, he skillfully turned the hand of the clock. stopping it right at six pm.
Tea time.
The Hatter turned to the blue eyed teenager, taking a grip on his wrist. He forced Alfred to dtand.
"Let's go."
The ground collapsed.
USUK
"Hatter-san! I've noticed that you've dropped right under a mistletoe with your companion!"
Alfred blinked at the greeting, noting a red clad man sporting dark eyes that matched his background. The forest was gone. Its greenness glazed over into the smooth blackness of glass – reflecting all characters within the enclosed space.
The room was a simple square of empty glass. No furniture nor accessories to give it personality.
Alfred looked up only to find his reflection staring back at him. There was no mistletoe for him to stand under.
"Greetings, Queen of Hearts. Your delusional fantasies are just as clear as ever, I've noticed." Arthur bowed to the man, a courtesy returned by the Queen.
"Please refrain from rudeness, Hatter-san," the black eyed Queen requested. He was smiling, awaiting the explanation for Arthur's visit.
The White Rabbit though was the first to impose his thoughts. "Your Majesty! Where's my brother? Where's Ludwig?"
Alfred watched as the man staggered to his feet. His injuries were beginning to heal slowly – just enough for him to be able to walk. The man beseeched his superior with his head low.
"The King is in his room, White Rabbit." The black eyed male replied promptly. "You may visit him, if you'd like. His wrath is none of my concern."
The Albino's face broke into a joyous grin. He began running to the closest wall, slipping right through it with easy effort.
"Whoa." Alfred stared at the wall that had engulfed the man. His exclamation caught the attention of the other two.
The two males simply stared at the teenager even as the multitude of seconds went past. Neither spoke nor moved yet their expressions were expectant of the man their eyes reflected. Alfred felt the pressure of their gaze; he wondered what they wanted. If this world was truly a world that humans had forsaken, then what were the wishes of the abandoned?
His entire visit(he hoped to God it was only a visit) had been one drenched in fear. Madness. Reunions that he never imagined would be. Those who he had met had tried to kill him – wished him dead. If his were truly the world of 'Alice in Wonderland' in which Alfred remembered Arthur spoke of, then he was sure that he'd have his head lopped off.
The black eyed male would order: 'Off with his head!"
And Hatter would giggle madly: sipping his tea.
Alfred glanced at his green eyed friend – from the way the man acted, he was sure the friendship was one sided but still: he hoped. Arthur was unwavering in his gaze. He had brought Alfred here to discover his crime. Yet he wouldn't even reveal his. It was unfair.
Alfred had loved Arthur. There wasn't another person in the world to whom he was closest.
So how could he be in the world of the unwanted; claiming Alfred to be one who sent him here? Why was Alfred, himself, here – when in the real world he proclaimed himself a hero?
Alfred took a breath, facing the Queen of the insane world; he stated his business. "I want to go home. And I want to take Arthur with me."
The faces of both men remained unchanged; but from what Alfred could see, the green eyed male was clenching his hands into tight fists. As of yet, the American could not think of a reason why that was.
"Arthur said that you need an invitation be in Wonderland! I don't have an invitation." He stepped towards the Queen of hearts, pushing back his fear as a hero would. "That means I don't have to stay here! And if I was one of the people who said that Arthur should come here, then I take it back! That way he could come with me, can't he?!"
The black eyed Queen giggled, narrowing his eyes with glee. "It's impossible!" He met met Alfred half way, staring up at the taller male. "Because here, 'Arthur-san' does not exist. He is 'Hatter-san' here.
"He's Arthur." Alfred insisted, even under the insanity of a mad Queen.
"To you, maybe," was the reply.
The Royal covered his mouth with his hands, stifling another laugh. "I apologize," he said. "It's just find it funny how stupid you are."
The blue eyed male frowned, insulted. Yet, before he could rebuke the comment, the Queen began to speak once more.
"This place is not reality! It is wonderland! The place of the unwanted, the forgotten and despised -"
"Yes, I know! Arthur told me! What does that have to do with anything?!" Alfred interrupted. He could feel anger stir alongside his buried fear and anxiousness. The Queen let his interruption slide.
"-not the place where humans reside." The black haired Queen closed his eyes as he continued to explain. "Every person in reality holds something that they wish to cast away. An emotion. A memory. When that part of them is successfully buried, it comes here." He smiled. "And takes form of a 'character.'"
"White Rabbit: unquestioning obedience. Thrown away by the man called Gilbert Beilschimdt."
"Cheshire cat: Murderous intent. Cast from the man known as Ivan Braginski."
"Dormouse: Unbearable loneliness: Buried within the boy called Matthew Williams."
"The Queen of Hearts – accursed delusions: Held by the one called Kiku Honda."
The Queen leaned up to whisper in Alfred's ears. "Mad Hatter: Unrequited love: Carved out of the child called Arthur Kirkland."
"What?" Alfred's mouth gaped. He received a tsk from the smaller male at his question, but he didn't care. "Isn't love supposed to be a good thing? Why would Arthur throw that away?1"
The one to answer these round was not the Queen of Hearts: it was the green eye man in Question himself. He stepped up to Alfred, keeping his gaze on the taller man's as he leaned in closer than an inch.
"Because it's unrequited. Unwanted by the object of affection."
He leaned in closer, his lips ghosting over the American's. Alfred found his body and mind frozen; his eyes following Arthur's movements against his will. Even when he felt the softness of the smaller male's mouth on his. The wetness of a tongue trailing across his bottom lip...he could not move. Nor speak.
"This was my crime."
Arthur pulled away from the other male as he touched his own lips with his fingers. Alfred continued to stare wide eyed, though all he was able to do was get his mouth flapping with no sound.
Arthur chuckled at his response, albeit sadly. He looked up at Alfred and responded just as the Queen handed him a letter.
"The Knave of Hearts," the green eyed male started, as Alfred skimmed through the words.
Dear Alfred F. Jones,
You have been graciously invited to wonderland. It has been noted that you no longer wish to be welcome in your world. As per the request of yourself, you will be brought to wonderland. We do hope you enjoy your stay.
"Unforgivable Guilt: carried by the boy whose name is Alfred F. Jones."
The blue eyed male was silent – staring at the words that was his invitation to the world reminiscent to Hades. Why?
WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY
WHY?
...unforgivable guilt.
...as per request of yourself...
...no longer wish...to be welcome...
He didn't understand any of this. Alfred swallowed, dropping the paper on the reflective glass.
He glared at it, clutching at his head as the reflections under it began to change. To swirl into something that wasn't an insane world of blood and unwanted emotions.
And into something much worst.
USUK
Alfred stared at the phone in his hand, flipping through a series of photos. Each picture being one of him.
The blue eye male smiling.
In candid.
Sleeping.
"Kesesesese! Looks like stupid asswipe Arthur got the hots for you, Golden boy!"
An echo of chuckles resounded in the classroom. None of them belonging to Alfred. All of them filled with hidden sneers.
What the blue eyed male had wished for was to be a good friend. To retrieve the phone that he had noticed Arthur forgotten. That was it. That was all.
Why did this happen?
"Hon hon hon. Perhaps the feelings are mutual? It would explain why the two of you are always together! Lovers, hm?"
Alfred didn't speak, only continued to flip through the phone that belonged to his best friend. He didn't know what to say.
Everyone in the room surrounded him, expectant of answers. Yet he hand none. Anything he ever decided to say against the photos in his defence would condemn Arthur. If he pretended that they were nothing, he himself would be scorned.
Arthur was his best friend.
"Kol kol kol kol! It is funny that the school's infamous playboy would be gay, da?"
Arthur was just his best friend, right? An important part of his life. Someone who he talked to about his worries and accomplishments. Who laughed with him and cried with him.
Alfred's best friend.
The blue eyed male surveyed the expressions of each person around him. He remembered all their names.
Gilber Beilschimdt. Francis Bonnefoy. Ivan Braginski.
He had laughed with all of them. Fought with all of them.
Weren't these people also his friends?
Alfred could feel the blunt machine in his hand dig into his flesh, his grip tightening around it.
In truth, he did not mind Arthur's feelings. He loved the other man beyond compare.
But what kind of love was it?
If Alfred confessed his thoughts, the truth would scorn him. The hard work that he had put in to be well liked by the entirety of the student body would be meaningless. He would no longer be the Hero. People would judge him. They would look down on him if he simply allowed himself to say: 'So? I like him too."
Because he was a man. And Arthur was a man too.
"Alfred? Why are you taking so bloody long? I told you it was on my desk, wasn't it?"
The American froze, his head turning to the door in twitches. No.
Arthur couldn't come here. Not yet; Alfred still hadn't decided how to respond.
This wasn't something he could laugh off. It wasn't something that he could ignore and cast away. Why did Arthur have to arrive at such as moment?
When he, the hero, didn't know how save both he and himself?
'Just go away,' Alfred thought, watching the figure of his best friend appear at the door. 'Please, just go home.'
The crowd around the male went silent, waiting as an audience would just as a movie climax was just about to hit the screen. Arthur raised an eyebrow at them – nonchalant - until he spotted the device in Alfred's hold. His expression did not change. But, the colour left it.
"...I'd like my phone back, Alfred."
The blue eyed male alternated his gaze between Arthur and the phone. Then he glanced at the crowd, all of whom stared at him in earnest.
This was all just entertainment to them.
"Gross." Alfred heard his voice speak, but he didn't know just whom he directed the word to. The crowd or Arthur.
Alfred was a hero. Heroes never hurt the things that were precious to them. Arthur was important to Alfred.
But still, the green eyed male flinched back as if stabbed. An action that contradicted the fact that he had his arm outstretched to retrieve his phone. Alfred wanted to reach out to him, comfort the teenager who was always by his side. An unmoving pillar of support.
But, a hero was also someone who was beloved by the crowd. And they were expecting an answer that pleased them.
"You're disgusting."
USUK
Alfred pressed his palms against the glass, watching the scene unfold behind them. He teeth was clenched, his eyes trained obsessively at the moving pictures.
"Do you remember what happened after that?" the Hatter asked, peering behind Alfred's shoulder and at the memories. Alfred shook his head – his whole body denied the truth of the events. But, he was lying. And everyone knew it.
Arthur especially.
"You called me disgusting. A liar. Because I said I loved you."
Alfred shook his head. "No."
"You were so afraid of being hated by everyone so you threw away your best friend."
The blue eyed male continued to deny it. "No!"
"You refused to acknowledge me even when their taunts began to escalate. Then you started to laugh with them."
"I didn't!" Alfred pressed his hands against his ears.
"And when those 'accidents' began to happen. You didn't do a thing."
"STOP IT!" Alfred curled into himself on the floor. He didn't want to remember. He wanted to forget. Everything.
But, the reflections in the mirrors knew all that he did.
The image of Arthur being shoved down the stairs by a tall figure. Pushed onto a busy road by a crowd.
Taunted by the entirety of the student body. The ENTIRETY of it.
Alfred too.
The blue eyed male shut his eyes, trying to block out the images. But, sounds continued to slip through his fingers. He could not make them disappear.
"...What are you doing here?"
Alfred's own voice.
"It's Christmas, Alfred. Friends visit each other on Christmas.Arthur's voice. "See? Here's a present."
Alfred opened his eyelids slowly, forcing himself to watch the Arthur hand his past self a parcel. The two of them were half a block away from Alfred's home; a party illuminating the windows of the house.
The green eyed male looked worst for wear, a dull grey coat over his shoulders. He held his head down, as if to avoid Alfred's gaze.
But, Alfred knew better. He could see the unhealed bruise on the side of the smaller man's temple. It was difficult to hide.
"You didn't need to come, y'know...I didn't think you were invited."
Alfred could barely hold himself from swearing at his younger self. To scream 'just hold him' or 'don't push him away'.
Just to stop the events that were going to occur. That already occurred.
Alfred watched Arthur chuckle weakly. "I wasn't. You didn't invite me." He shoved the parcel into his past self's hands.
"Here. It's a tin of peppermint flavoured coffee. I thought it would suit you since you're always drinking that crap...we should have drinks together sometime before holidays end... "
The blue eyed male bit his lips willing his memories to change. To believe that at the time he accepted that gift.
"I don't want it."
Alfred clenched his teeth at his own stupidity. He could hear Arthur's sharp intake of breath.
"Then...could you do me a favour? I won't bother you after this."
Silence followed the request. Alfred remembered it. He had contemplated it and agreed to it.
"Close your eyes for a bit."
Alfred had. Alfred did.
Arthur had kissed him then. A chaste kiss on his lips that was gone as soon as it came.
"...you should leave now."
Alfred should have never said that.
"...you're right. I should."
No. Arthur shouldn't have.
"Peter caught the flu... I should see if the stores are still open to but the medicine. He's coughing a lot so I'll have to get the cough syrup...he's always complaining at the taste though." Arthur laughed, the last sound of happiness Alfred ever heard from the male. "I bet it tastes a whole bloody than your bitter coffee.
Alfred opened his eyes, slumping as the images faded to black. They now reflected the bodies of he, the Hatter and the Queen.
"When school started...the teachers pulled me aside to talk about you."
Alfred swallowed, watching as his reflection's face distorted. Drips of water fell on his eyes and cheeks. "They said that you had taken a whole bottle of cough syrup then went to sleep."
The American's voice cracked. "Then you never woke up."
Alfred's whole body shuddered, the tears flowing freely now that he did nothing to stop them.
"I'm sorry. Arthur, I'm so sorry." Alfred turned to the green eyed man, clutching at the lapels of that grey overcoat that seemed to weigh the man down.
"It's all my fault. My fault. My fault."
Unbearable guilt. Forgotten memories.
Arthur laughed, returning the hug. "It looks like you really do belong here!"
Alfred wasn't listening as he held onto the green eyed male for dear life.
"I love you, Arthur. More than anything." He clung on tighter, like a child. Like a dying man. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I lied back then. I don't think you're disgusting. I did want that gift. I wanted to protect you. I'm sorry."
Alfred felt Arthur tighten his hug. "So sorry. I was scared of what they think if they knew I returned your feelings. I love you. Arthur, I love you."
"It's alright, Knave of Hearts." He brought Alfred to arms length, smiling widely. For once, his smile reached his eyes. "Because you just gave me the most magnificent present that I could ever ask for."
"What?" Alfred wiped the tears from his eyes, captivated by Arthur's smile. His eyes widened when he noticed the reflection behind the green eyed male on the other wall.
"I lied when I told the White Rabbit that the Queen no longer wanted me executed!" He smiled. "You see, I break a lot rules. And I broke one by bringing you here."
He giggled. "Really. When I loosened that window at the hospital, I didn't think it's go so bloody well!"
Alfred's stared at the Briton in disbelief. "Arthur?"
"To watch the one I loved the most die with me would be the greatest gift I could receive! Merry Christmas!" He hugged Alfred again, refusing to let go. Again, Alfred's world cracked. Crack by crack, Alfred's world was shattering.
Everything was unrecognizable now.
Alfred watched, returning the embrace even as he his eyes were wide in horror. Because in the reflection of the room, the Queen of hearts placing a sword above their necks.
"Now we can be together always. Alright?"
And it went down.
USUK
Alfred could hear the sound of machines flat lining as he was forced out of his chair with a violent shudder. He clutched at his neck, breath rapid in his chest.
Black reflections were gone. No where was there the Queen of Hearts.
Only a white hospital. Pristine with unbroken windows. The song of carollers outside muted by glass.
And Arthur. Sleeping.
That's right. Ever since he had swallowed that bottle of cough syrup, 365 days previously; Arthur had always been sleeping.
"A dream?" Alfred whispered. He stood up, noticing that the clip that read Arthur's heart beat had come loose. The blue eyed male placed it back on, waiting for the nurse to come in for the routine check.
That dream.
Wonderland. Mad Hatter.
It felt real. Painfully so.
He wanted to see Arthur awake again. He wanted to see those green eyes again.
And he wanted to tell Arthur he loved him. Apologize for all the mistakes that the American had made.
Not as a friend. But, as what Arthur had wanted them to be.
Alfred glanced up, rubbing at his ears. There was a constant ringing in his ears but, it didn't belong to him.
The hospital machine was still flat lining. Even with Arthur connected.
Alfred's breath began to quicken with panic as he opened his mouth to scream for help. Hospital employees were already rushing in, pushing him aside.
"He's going into cardiac arrest!"
No. Was Arthur going to die? He couldn't die. No.
"Get the cart!"
Alfred hadn't even apologized yet. He hadn't said 'I love you' yet.
The American felt himself shoved out the door as the doctor deemed their job inappropriate for his eyes.
No. Alfred had to be there. If Arthur was going to die, Alfred wanted to be there. If Arthur was going to live, he wanted to be there.
The door was closing. People were shouting.
Doctors screaming. Patients crying.
But, Alfred didn't care about any of that.
All he cared for was the flicker of colour that he caught before the white walls barred him from Arthur.
A colour impossible emerald green.
He didn't even notice when from his pocket fell two letters. Both beginning and with the same sentence.
You have been graciously invited to wonderland...we do hope you enjoy your stay.7
USUK
A/N: Have a good day!
Reviews are fun.