Part 2-I recommend listening to 'Say Something' by A Great Big World accompanied by Christina Aguilera. I don't own anything. Enjoy ^-^

Arthur worsened over the coming days, sometimes remembering Alfred, sometimes forgetting his own name. Awake on good days, unresponsive and crying in his sleep on bad days. Arthur needed a medication pump now, not being able to take any of the tablets orally anymore. It hurt to watch the stubborn blonde deteriorate, unable to do anything but watch. Alfred didn't want to witness the destruction of his husband, but what else was there to do? What could he do?

The faculty and staff there pitied their relationship, that much was certain. Elizabeta, one of the main desk workers, was extremely compassionate to the situation having gone through it before with her husband Gilbert.

"Give him time. There's always a chance he'll make it Al," the chestnut-haired Hungarian said gently. "Arthur's a fighter, so don't give up on him yet!" There was only so much comfort Elizabeta's words could provide. She didn't know...she hadn't seen what had destroyed all his hope.

It had started as one of those better nights. Arthur was once again, his Arthur. Light banter was had, small teasing compliments were thrown back and forth. Smiles were shared, laughter chimed like twinkling bells.

Everything went to hell after that. Those beautiful emeralds, those precious gems Alfred so loved, became clouded as loud and violent coughs rang through the room. Blood. There was so much blood everywhere. The alabaster sheets that were always complained about had been dyed a deep crimson, some had sprayed the walls during Arthur's ordeal. Alfred had panicked, trying to just touch the other, but was denied.

"Ar-Arthur. Come on, let me help. Please." Arthur had shaken his head no.

"G-get out," he asked in a strained voice. The Brit's head tilted upward to plead to him. "Just do that for me...alright?"

Other staff members cleaned up the mess and administered drugs, all while Alfred had to watch from the sidelines. It hurt so much. It hurt so very very much. Not only did he fail at his profession as a doctor, but he failed the only one whose opinion mattered. He failed Arthur.

Did he have a right to give up now? The immediate doctors on call at the nursing home would surely do a better job. The whole event was three weeks ago, but Alfred just couldn't get over it.

Pulled out of the depths of depression by a call, the former doctor trudged over to the phone.

"Hello? Jones speaking." Secretly, he was glad the caller couldn't see his disgruntled state. Glasses askew, hair messier than usual, and only wearing an old grey shirt with black jogging pants? Not exactly what you would approach someone in.

The incoherent yells in the background almost made Alfred almost hang up, when the frantic voice of Elizabeta finally came through.

"Al? Alfred?! We need you, oh God. It's Arthur." That caught his attention. "He wasn't breathing well when I went to check on him, and then he just stopped. He's on a non-invasive ventilator right now. We need-no, he needs you." More sounds, some crashes, and a few curses.

Alfred swallowed the lump in his throat. "I'll be there."

One painstaking car-ride and fearful dash down the halls later, Alfred was at room 8785. Arthur's room. He didn't want to go in...there were just too many things that could be seen. Too many horrific tragedies could happen. But if he didn't? The overwhelming weight of guilt would surely be a worse fate. Gathering up his courage, Alfred pushed the door open.

It was so quiet. The sheets had returned to their natural colour, while the walls were still stained, giving out an eerie feel. Arthur was hooked up to an IV as well as the ventilator Elizabeta talked about. With each breath with the breathing mask on, a little puff of oxygen stained the plastic. The constant beeps from a heart monitor were even more reassuring. Taking a seat by the bed, Alfred wondered what could have caused this. Holding Arthur's hand, he absentmindedly started to rub little circles into it.

A soft voice interrupted that. "Hey now, stop that Alfred. Your hands are so bloody cold." Arthur was awake, attentive, but definitely looked worse for wear.

"I-sorry…" Alfred looked away. Sorry was never enough though, was it?

Arthur shook his head with the ghost of a smile on his lips. "Don't be. I brought this on myself. Carelessness. You shouldn't feel so bothered by this. This was all just me being a total and utter, " Al just had to interrupt.

"Stop it. All this? This is all my fault and you know it! I just...why? Why does it have to be you?" Only now did he realize he was crying. Alfred continued through the tears. "I wanted to be with you forever, as cliche as that sounds. Why does it all have to end?"

Arthur, not unfazed by the turn of the conversation, was trying to hold back his emotions and failing. "I don't know why alright? I don't want to be in this idiotic room when I could be with you. I don't want this to stop, I don't want to-" He didn't want to say it, saying it would mean it would happen… "I don't want to die." Arthur finished regretfully.

They were both a mess. Alfred was slowly losing himself, Arthur was slowly drifting away. Now they were hugging the life out of each other as if something as mortal as that could stop time and freeze the advances of death. There was so much they still wanted to say that words tumbled out like restless ocean waves, crashing upon each other's ears. Soon there was no more to be said as the warm salt of their tears were the only conversation.

Arthur stifled a sob momentarily to mutter three last words. "I love you."

The epilogue is coming. Will Artie live or die? o-o

That's for me to know, and you guys to cry over mwahahaha! I know, I'm evil. XD

Happy Valentine's Day.