As Arthur sat down in his chair, he sighed to himself. Sipping his tea, he thought. 'Stupid Alfred cares only about himself and his next meal. He doesn't even notice if the rest of the Allies are even talking to him!' He narrowed his eyes, looking down. 'Yet, I'm strangely attracted to him...' Arthur stared at his reflection in the rippling pool of brown, seeing only himself, embarrassed. He placed the ceramic cup gingerly onto the clear glass surface, looking up at the painting on the wall. A colourful array of colours were used to paint this picture of Arthur's dear Alfred. It was painted by a famous Italian artist, who finished it before the war. Alfred had it hung up in Arthur's house before then, deeming it a birthday present for his brother-like figure. Arthur remembered the first time little Alfred gave him the nickname "Iggy" and how he had called him that until the war...In the good times. Everybody, including Alfred, thought Arthur was over the whole Revolution and what not. But in truth, he wasn't. He never would be, nor could he. Still at night, Arthur cried quietly to himself about how much he really missed Alfred.
This night was one of those.
Arthur sat on the foot of the bed, letting out an irritated sigh. He rested his head on the goose feather pillow, frowning at the texture of the quilt his boss had given him. He touched his face, feeling trickling wet down his porcelain cheeks. He felt closer, recognizing the wetness as tears. Oh, how it was a close friend to him. He gasped sharply, rolling over on his back. Letting out an agonizing cry, he burst into a heavy session of cries. "Why did you have to leave me alone? Alfred, why?! I...I miss you s-so...so m-much..." Much to his misfortune, he fell off the edge of the bed, landing with a thud onto his knee. More tears were let out, because of pain, anguish, and sorrow. His smooth hands gripped the painful area, holding with a death grasp. He shivered lightly, laying his head down on the cozy carpet. His emerald eyes were puffy and red, diamond colored tears still flowing. He got up, his poor knee refusing to help him in any way, shape nor form. But suddenly, there was a knock at the door! Arthur's eyes widened at the familiar voice. "Iggy? Ya home dude? Bro...I need to show you this new game I got!" It was Alfred. Arthur struggled to get up, limping towards the door. As his hand went to open the door, he hesitated. "Why am I second-guessing this choice of mine?" He asked, clutching the door tightly. Arthur thought, but only for a moment, as the door was opened from the outside.