He couldn't believe it. He just couldn't believe it.

He had spent 30 minutes on this quest, only to arrive at this conclusion, this horrific crime that now irritated him on such a deeply personal level, since he had no idea on how this person had even managed such a feat under the noses of those in the dorms who typically did their laundry on Sunday morning.

"All of the laundry machines are in use." He muttered to himself beneath his breath. His eye twitched a bit. "All 8 washers are in use."

And it looked as though one person, a single evil lord of the washing machine, had decided to use them all.

Arthur Kirkland was pissed, since schedules were of the utmost importance to him. The exchange student was outraged, simply because it was of the same caliber of insult as taking someone's unofficially assigned seat in the middle of the semester. It drew deep from his innards and disgusted him to his core. What sort of selfish prick would do that?

Normally, Arthur and about 5 other people washed on Sunday mornings. The soothing routine was especially important to Arthur, who would put his whites in at 8, and when the 30 minutes passed he'd add his colors to the wash and wait until they were done to dry both whites and colors as his sheets and linens went into the washer at 9. However, it was now 8:25 and none of his clothes were in the dryer, let alone his second load of clothing, and this would invariably through his schedule out of whack for the whole day, and everyone else's as well.

What a right arse.

Now, a small voice in the back of Arthur's head told him that while others might feel mild irritation at having their daily routine slightly inconvenienced (and certainly none would feel the crawling of pure wrongness down their backs that Arthur did), however Arthur was never one to be discouraged from feeling just about ready to blow with rage at whatever idiot had done this or have an anxiety attack because of the lack of order in having this chaotic neutral fool do what had to be weeks of laundry in 8 different machines while he suffered this slight.

"Man, is that really all of them!?" An unfamiliar voice pierced his quickly derailing train of thought, and caught Arthur's attention. American, his mind told him belatedly. Sounded like he was from the Midwest, with his lack of any specific accent from North or South, certainly none from the New York area. "NYU should totally be able to spare a few more bucks on us with how much we're paying them." The man muttered, breathtakingly handsome as they came, not wearing a shirt as he paraded around in pajama pants, holding a basket of laundry in them.

"8 machine's are normally fine." Arthur said after a moment, trying to quell his shaking hands as his body and mind shrieked against the lack of order, things were going to fall apart he was going to fall apart. "Some prick…just is using all of them at the moment."

"Oh." The American said after a moment, scratching his head before he squatted next to him. "You 'kay dude? You look like you're going to be sick."

"I'm…" He gritted out. "Fine."

The unknown student nodded, sitting next to him quietly despite how he looked 'sick'. "Mm, well, I'm Alfred. From the accent I take it you're English?"

Arthur glared a bit, but ultimately decided it wasn't worth it to be horrible to this person who was obviously trying to distract him or help him feel better.

"…Yes." Arthur responded belatedly. "I'm, I'm Arthur. I'm an exchange student, from, from Oxford." The words were slow to his mouth, his mind feeling like his voice was moving like molasses despite the fast pace of his thoughts.

"Arthur, huh? Nice to meet you, then, I need to wash, dry and press my uniforms before tonight, but, ehheh, looks like someone's got a monopoly on the washing machines."

When Arthur didn't response, Alfred didn't seem discouraged. "I'm an ROTC person, they require me to dress in uniform a lot…it's kinda annoying but I make the best of it, yanno?"

"…ROTC?" Arthur eventually asked, also trying to distract himself from his anxious thoughts and rebelling stomach. "That's…that means you're getting a scholarship from the US military, doesn't it?"

Alfred agreed quietly, interested in Arthur's quiet, uncertain voice as well. "I'm here for the Marines." He gestured to the machines in front of them as they counted down to 1 minute remaining.

"When the clothes finish, you should take out their stuff and put it on the countertop in a sopping wet heap." He grinned playfully. "Their punishment for being an ass, you know?"

"My-my routine is still…" Arthur fumbled, embarrassed by saying the panicked words aloud but also a tad too distressed to honestly care as Alfred got this knowing look in his eyes.

"What's the routine?" Alfred asked, voice calm still, standing up and reaching a hand down to Arthur, the exchange student getting pulled up with a strong, mildly calloused hand.

"Whites, than colors, than Linens. 8, then 8:30, then 9." Arthur recited from memory. "Then folding for 15 minutes, and cleaning. Taking out the trash at 9:50 right before the first load of dry clothes is done."

Alfred put his hand up. "Mmm, well, just use these two machines to do your whites and colors!" He gestured, trying to resolve the issue for Arthur, sunny and bright and far, far nicer than Arthur deserved- a voice in the back of his mind screamed he was being incredibly irrational even as he struggled with his voice, the solution proposed not working either.

"But!" Arthur spluttered. "That's Kiku's machine, he washes his clothes at 8:45!" His fingers were splayed on his pants, and he was unsure of how to proceed as his mind ran around in dizzying circles with dizzying speed.

"Kiku?" Alfred's voice lit up with familiarity as his lips played with a smile. "He's on a trip with his friends. Gone until tonight. I know because I texted him last night about studying for our polysci class."

"With Kanner at 10AM on Mondays?" Arthur eventually asked for clarification, looking to Alfred for confirmation. He was also in that class with Kiku, and he was unsure if Kiku took more than one political science class.

"Yep! That's the one." Alfred agreed. "Now." He scooped out the laundry from the machines, and put them on the countertop adjacent to the machines. "It's 8:30, meaning you can catch up if you hurry. Someone who's not here won't mind not having a machine to use!"

"There are way too many negatives in that statement." Arthur muttered, rather off topic as he mindlessly went into the motions of putting in the colors in the right machine, and the whites in Kiku's usual machine.

Alfred beamed at him, shrugging nonchalantly as he moved his laundry bag of dirty uniforms onto his back by heaving it over his shoulder. "Eh. I'm gonna go clear out another machine."

"On which floor?" Arthur hesitantly prodded, unsure if he would be intruding, and feeling ever so slightly awkward for having taken up both of the washer machines in this room.

"…Oh, just the closest one, the one on third of this part of the building." Alfred set down his stuff for a moment, and pointed upwards with a rather carefree motion.

"…. Y-you mentioned being in Kanner's class." Arthur mumbled, unsure of himself as he blinked rapidly, avoiding Alfred's curious gaze out of embarrassment. "I'm also in it…if you would like to study with me at 4:30 tonight in the study room on second…"

Alfred grinned after a moment of surprise. "Alright." The taller student agreed readily. "I'll be there at 4:30."

XXXXX

Fingers tapped anxiously in the quiet of the study room. 4:30 was almost there. Where was the other student? Where was he? Did he decide not to come? Did he think Arthur was boring, did he decide not to bother with him? Did he think he was crazy for needing order?

It was 4:29 now and a pit was growing in Arthur's stomach, and it was hard to tell if it was anxiety or nausea- was it that sandwich he'd eaten at lunch or was it that he had been looking forward to Alfred-.

No. Arthur didn't need him. Green eyes stared down, hateful and angry and anxious and upset and the order was broken and he couldn't do anything about it. BUT. He didn't need anyone, he didn't! He hated people who would just leave him alone, people who didn't keep their commitments! Hated people who broke the order! Hated hated hated hated hated-

"Hey, sorry for keeping you waiting!" A voice broke through his thoughts, breaking the harmful chain of thoughts and he felt hands on his own, pulling at them-why were they close to his head he didn't understand he didn't understand. It was 4:31 and he was late and everything was wrong couldn't he see that couldn't he see that it wasn't right?

"R- A...Arth- Arthur!" The voice broke through his sudden mental fog, whoever it belonged to repeatedly calling his name, and Arthur found Alfred's face in front of his and one foreign hand on his temple and the other holding his hands against his chest by the wrists.

"Do you have medication, Arthur?" The voice was logical, calm, even as Arthur shook and things felt wrong wrong wrong he was out of control everything was awry and Arthur was to blame he was to blame and he was going to get in trouble for it he was he was in trouble because he wasn't in order. He struggled and fought and resisted the person's words.

At some point the person pulled Arthur into his chest, wrapping his arms tight around him, small circles being pressed into his back as Arthur was enveloped.

"Arthur, please, calm down." The voice was a bit shaken, but still in control. "No one's going to hurt you- you're not in trouble, you're not in trouble. Breathe, breathe…"

Arthur tried to do as it said, and then it started counting for him. He started to tap his hand on the man's shoulder, and was better able to focus on breathing, and with each familiar motion, he started to feel a bit less distressed. This he could control. He was in control.

And then his support picked him up, before sitting him back down in the chair.

"You okay, Arthur?" The voice asked, with a small, slightly worried smile on his face as he looked over Arthur. After a belated glance examining the man, Arthur realized that it was Alfred.

"Ah…" Arthur finally put two and two, and realized Alfred had arrived to his meltdown. "You were late." Arthur muttered, angry that this person had thrown him off his schedule like this.

"Your clock is a minute faster than mine." Alfred held his up to show, and Arthur checked his watch to see, that yes, his watch was faster than Alfred's. He didn't know what to do about that, and he'd wasted so much time already, he needed to study lest his routine got thrown off the next morning as well!

Alfred put his hand on top of his and Arthur was surprised.

"Let's get to work." Alfred said, again, calm and steady, though there was something under the surface. Arthur gathered his things, and opened his textbook while Alfred opened up his notes.

He let Alfred's soothing explanations of the political sphere wash over him, addressing the topics that Kanner was going to include on the test with ease. Arthur wrote down the words automatically, slipping into the easy repetition, even as the other student gave Arthur a look of subtle worry.

XXXXX

Arthur and Alfred finished quickly, and the other student asked what room Arthur lived in, helping him gather up study materials and carry his things. Arthur led him quietly, his hands still shaking from earlier, making him secretly glad that the ROTC student was carrying his things for him.

He made it to his room, and fumbled with the key for a moment, before holding it up to the door and waiting to hear the beeping noise that signaled he was able to open it. No sooner than he had though, then his fucking roommate shouted at him to close the door, and a shoe was tossed at him.

Alfred was bright red as Arthur slammed the door on Francis Bonnefoy and whatever man he had been about to have sex with and had gotten caught in the moment when Arthur had opened the door, tired and ready to recharge a bit from his hectic day.

And that was exactly when Arthur had had enough. One tear, then two tears, then he dropped his card to the floor, his hands going slack and shaking, and then he felt his breath hitch and he felt entirely undignified as he broke down in front of a person he barely knew for the 3rd time that day.

Alfred didn't seem to mind, worry sprouting on his face even as Arthur didn't notice it, caught up in the broken feeling of having a very, very bad day.

"C'mon, I live in a single." Alfred said quietly as he subtly guarded Arthur from being viewed by anyone who might walk by. "A big one, thankfully. I'm, uhm, an RA, I…don't know if you've seen me around, though. I'm a replacement and on a different floor than you, like in another wing…"

Arthur was too distraught by it all to do anything except nod and wipe his face off as best he could. Embarrassment and shame coursed through him, even as Alfred readjusted his grip on Arthur's things to wrap an arm around him and walk him to another part of the building, telling on looking students that he'd just had a bit too much to drink- it was no shocker to kids that of-age RAs could drink, so they let it slide. One of them wished that she could drink with the hot new RA, and Alfred snorted once the hall door had closed behind him.

"Freshmen are so into them, 'cause they think we'll bring them benefits! Like yeah, I'm nice, but I'm also gay, and 99% of the girls near my floor of who've seen me work the desk are flirting with me already…fuck it, to be honest." Alfred muttered and rolled his eyes as he rubbed Arthur's shoulder. "I won't try anything, honest, it's more just…you look like you need a moment somewhere where people aren't gonna poke their noses into your business."

Arthur wasn't much listening, but the voice was nice, and the hand guiding him was gentle. It was ample distraction from the all-consuming illness in his stomach, and the wrongness coming out of dealing with his prat of a roommate's refusal to adhere to his rules and regulations. Things would be perfect, bad things wouldn't happen if Francis would just listen to him! Why didn't people do as he said?

He heard a beeping, and then the clicking of lights as the hand guided him to a couch, sitting him down there and handing him a blanket and his things. "You can sleep here tonight." Alfred said quietly. "Do whatever it is you need to finish…I'm gonna order dinner."

And then Alfred walked around to grab his computer, sitting down and yawning at it. Arthur felt disoriented, and lay down quietly, dazed and nauseous and for the first time in his life, he really wondered what was wrong with him as he tapped the fabric of the couch he laid on in desperation to make things right again, to put things into order again, because he was bad and things would be bad if he didn't.

The RA smiled at him a bit from his desk chair, trying to be gentle as he rolled closer to him. "Hey, are you okay?" He asked, and Arthur had no answer for him, since he didn't know anymore. This feeling of wrongness was too strong to go against, and most of this was new. But he couldn't say anything about it, no. It wouldn't be right to burden this young man.

Yet Arthur didn't notice the look of worry growing on the younger man's face.