Alfred was a monster, and he felt he was as gruesome as he could get. He'd been created artificially, by sewing together the appendages and organs of other human beings. His life was the mutation of so many others, and the doctor who made him never gave any of it a second thought. He'd said Alfred was a wonder, a miracle of science. Life made from death. He had believed him, and was proud of himself simply for existing. He considered the doctor his father, and the two of them a family.
Alfred believed the two of them made a very nice family, even if the doctor was strange and would occasionally perform morally questionable experiments. It was fun, if anything. But, Alfred found that his content life in the lab wouldn't last long, for his father grew sick, and then passed away. And then, Alfred was alone.
He'd found himself wandering the countryside, limbs quite literally falling apart at the seams. He was carrying his forearm in a sack, now, and it looked like the other arm would give soon.
Alfred didn't often ask for help, as he had a tendency to cause others to run away or scream or attack him. Sometimes it was all three. But now- now he was desperate.
He was just on the outskirts of a humble town, heading towards a house that sat on a hill. He needed a needle and thread. He couldn't sew well, and limbs were even harder than normal fabrics. But, he'd have to manage. He looked through a few of the windows, and came to the conclusion that no one was home. He prayed he was right.
Alfred muscled his way through the door, nearly causing his shoulder to come undone. "Shit-" He whispered, pulling on one of the stitches to tighten them temporarily. He stumbled through the house. It was dark, and a little cold, but Alfred didn't see anybody so he continued to look around.
He walked into what seemed to be the bedroom, opening drawers with his good hand and sifting through them. Nothing. He looked in the closet and the dresser, when finally his gaze landed on a wooden box on top of a shelf.
He picked it up and opened the lid. There were a number of different colored threads, as well as needles and pins. It was near impossible to thread the needle with one hand, but he managed. He was about to reattach his arm, when he heard something shatter behind him.
The homeowner, Alfred assumed. Green eyes now wide with disbelief, and already fair skin paled by fear. There was a shattered teacup at his feet, which was the source of the noise. "Don't scream-" Alfred started, but it was already too late. The monster got to his feet, and approached the homeowner, arm raised in defense. "Hey, hey- I'm not gonna hurt you I just need-."
Apparently, when this particular person was threatened, they had a fight response rather than flight. Alfred stepped back as a book from a nearby shelf was swung at him, just missing his chest. "Stop that!" Alfred started again, though the homeowner swung, this time determined not to miss. He hit Alfred's remaining arm, and it came loose, falling to the ground. "Now look what you did!" Alfred could see the stranger's face turning a little green. He guessed he would feel sick, too, if he had knocked someone's limb across the room.
The stranger had stopped attacking but he still looked wary, book ready to go if necessary.
"Now are you going to let me talk?" Alfred asked, and the stranger narrowed his eyes. "Great. I /was/ just going to put myself back together with your little sewing kit, but thanks to you I've got a grand total of zero arms which means, Stranger, you're gonna have to do it for me." Alfred pouted, frowning and looking away.
"Well I don't see why I owe you anything, you're the creature that broke into my house- what happened to you?" The stranger's question seemed more like a demand, but Alfred still didn't answer it. The man shook his head. "It doesn't matter- get out! And take your arms and any other body parts you might have lying around!" He still looked pale in the face, but he refused to back down. He was stubborn.
Well, Alfred could be stubborn too. He sat in the middle of the stranger's bed, shaking his head. "I'm not going anywhere until you patch me up, Stranger."
He watched as the other's face went from white to boiling red. He looked like he was going to argue, but, he sighed and decided against it. "I patch you up...you leave. That's the deal?" Alfred nodded. The man began again. "Very well..." He turned away.
"Hey! Where are you going, Stranger?" Alfred asked, sitting up.
"You can't sew fucking body parts with thread. Your arms will fall off before you get out the door. I'll come back with the right tools. And I have a proper name. It's Arthur. Do refer to me by it." The stranger- no, Arthur- left the house, leaving Alfred alone in the bedroom. One arm in a sack, the other on the ground near the bed. Both utterly useless.
When Arthur came back, he was wearing a pair of gloves that went up to his elbows. He picked the arms up, blanching as he touched them. Arthur spent a moment determining which was left and which was right. He then began to reattach the left one, his stitches much tighter and neater than Alfred's or the doctor's had ever been.
"You're good a this.." Alfred observed, and Arthur shrugged.
"Lots of practice...I sew for a living." Moments later, Arthur spoke again. "What..are you, exactly..?"
Alfred mulled the question over before answering. "My...creator called me artificial life. He made me out of the body parts of others. I think they were already dead. I hope they were." Alfred bit his bottom lip. "He um..got sick. And then he died. I didn't want to be in the lab by myself, so I left. And here I am. I'm not going back, either."
"Well, what are you going to do now?" Arthur tightened his stitches as he came close to finishing one arm.
"I've been interested in these things called heroes. I read books about them sometimes, and I think I'd like to be one. I'm supposed to be pretty strong.."
Arthur chuckled, though there wasn't humor in it. "Well, I'm not sure the world is ready for a hero like you. But..best of luck."
After Arthur had finished up Alfred's arms, which both felt stronger than ever thanks to Arthur, Alfred was quickly pushed out the door. That was the deal, after all, a patch job and Alfred would leave. So, it came as no small surprise when Alfred returned in just a week, quite literally holding his head in his hands.
"I know I promised, but, this is kind of an emergency and you were awesome when you put my arms back. They haven't budged. So...please?" Arthur nearly fainted.
After that, Alfred would return again and again, for minor stitches that just took a minute, or major issues that required a lot of work. Arthur eventually grew friendlier towards him, and wouldn't even flinch when Alfred came with almost half of himself unattached. In return, Alfred grew much, much friendlier towards Arthur. Arthur always asked Alfred how he got so torn up all the time, and Alfred would never answer.
It wasn't until a few weeks later that Arthur confronted him. Alfred had come back with an arm to reattach, even though Arthur had just done it yesterday.
"Alright, Alfred, what's your game? I put that on yesterday. There isn't any way that it's already come off. My work isn't that flimsy."
Alfred looked embarrassed, and he gave a sheepish grin. "I dunno, Artie, I was doing a lot of..physical work..yesterday and I guess I just strained it too much. C'mon, can you just reattach it?"
Arthur shook his head. "That's bullshit and you know it. You could be lifting boulders all hours for all I care and that arm would still be attached after one day. I'm not putting it back on until you give me the truth."
"But Artie-!"
"Don't 'Artie' me! Tell me the truth. You're always in need of repair even though I know my work is better than that, and I've redone pretty much all of your original stitching."
"It was just work-"
"Alfred!"
"Fine! I've been pulling them out!" Alfred admitted, tightening his grip around his arm.
"For heaven's sake, why?!"
"Because- because then I have an excuse to come and see you!"
Arthur started to speak, though he stopped, stunned as he looked at Alfred. "To..see me." He repeated, blinking owlishly. "You've been doing it to see me."
Alfred nodded and looked down, shaking his head with embarrassment. "..Yeah. 'cause, I was afraid if I came without needing anything, you'd..tell me to go away." He chuckled quietly. "I'd give you my heart, but I feel like that'd really gross you out. But um, you know. That's kind of what I'm feeling. So..give me a chance?" Alfred could feel Arthur's gaze on him, and he shuffled his feet.
Arthur cleared his throat, and stepped back, holding the door open for Alfred. "I..First, I'm going to sew up your arm. Then...I suppose I'll give you a chance. Just remember that you can visit without bringing an unattached limb. And please, don't give me your heart. Now get inside."
Alfred beamed. "Sure thing."