***Hi everyone! Thank you so much for your support so early on in this story! I am also going to try to change up the way that I write my paragraphs, and I will separate them when a different person is talking just so that it does not confuse anyone! I hope the new style makes sense, so please let me know if any of you are still confused and I will definitely try my hardest! Also, I can't promise a new chapter every day but I'll post as frequently as I can ; ) Peace!***
When Arthur returned home, he immediately felt safer, protected, and unjudged from the rest of the world outside his cozy apartment. It might have been comfortable, in his mind. The reality was that the place was a complete mess. Granted, Arthur never had visitors at his place so he never got a second opinion. The room was cold, the paint on the walls have faded long ago and the furniture had a worn out and dull appearance. Also, there was still no food in the fridge. The Englishman knew that he had to get off his ass and go to the grocery store eventually, but he had just returned home from work and did not feel like accomplishing any other tasks for the rest of the day.
"There is always tomorrow." This was a mantra that he always repeated to himself during times of stress, but even he knew that this was a lie.
Instead, he opted for a better alternative. He quickly made his way over to one of the top cabinets in the bathroom and retrieved his most trusted needle. "You care about me, don't you?" He asked the inanimate object. As he prepared the needle to insert into his skin, his mind immediately returned to the conversation he had with France earlier that day.
'No one cares about you.' Taunted Francis over and over again in Arthur's mind.
Arthur Kirkland took a deep breath and smiled at his reflection in the mirror. "He'll be gone soon."
It only took about ten minutes for the blond to feel more at ease. 'Is this what being normal feels like? Maybe if I'm normal, people will care about me. Just like Francis said… Wait – why am I thinking about him so much today?'
Suddenly, an imaginary image of the blue – eyed French nation appeared before him. "Out of all the better places I had too be tonight, why on earth am I in your bathroom?" Asked Francis.
"Y-you're not real… I imagined you. You're not real, and you can't hurt me!" Spat the green – eyed man.
The imaginary Francis shrugged and winked flirtatiously. "On contraire, if you can see me, then I exist in your mind. If something exists, whether three dimensional or simply a thought, must still be real."
"ENOUGH! I've had it with your riddles!" Out of anger, Arthur picked up one of the drinking glasses next to the sink and shattered it against the wall that Francis stood at. The other man mocked a painful expression, but simply laughed off the other's hatred.
"Hmm… that really hurt." Faked the curly – haired Frenchman with a pout.
Arthur rolled his eyes. "Bullocks. You know very well that I didn't hurt you."
"Well, we might not be able to physically hurt each other." The imaginary man pondered as he wandered around the bathroom. Arthur eyed him like a hawk. "But… there are other ways." He finished in a sing – song voice. Francis shook his head. "Just look at you. You honestly can't tell me that you enjoy living like this. Why are you cooped up in here all by yourself, when you can be chatting it up with the real me? Come on. Just admit it, mon Cher. I'm on your mind for a reason, you know." He said while blowing a kiss in Arthur's direction.
Arthur scoffed. "Why on earth would I want to 'chat it up' with the real you when all you do is insult me, humiliate me, and make me feel like nothing?! Get out of my house! Just get out of here!" Even though he would never realize it, Arthur repeated for the Frenchman to get out of his house over and over again for nearly half an hour. Fortunately, a savior came in the form of Alfred Jones.
"Hey, buddy. It's me. I told Francis to go away, so you're safe now."
Arthur wiped the tears flooding from his eyes. "A-Alfred? Is that really you?" He sniffed.
Alfred chuckled and ruffled Arthur's hair. "I guess I'm as real as you want me to be."
The man crouched down against the bathroom wall managed to crack a smile. "Well, at least you're better than the other guy." And, as soon as Alfred had come, he was gone again, disappearing in a puff of smoke right before Arthur's eyes. Not knowing what else to do with himself, the broken man began to sob again.
The following work day, Arthur quickly clocked in to work and hurried over to his desk. Last night really had him worried. He could not remember experiencing hallucinations that vividly before, but he supposed it was his own fault as he had thrown some alcohol and sleeping pills into the mix. Who knew what all of that shit put together could do to anyone's mind. He still didn't manage to eat dinner, or breakfast that morning, for that matter.
With a sigh, he accidentally kicked an object underneath his desk. As he did not remember leaving anything under it the night before, he took a peak to see if anyone else had lost something, perhaps. To his surprise, he found a packed lunch that appeared to be waiting for him. He opened up the contents and found a note that read 'To Arthur. From Alfred and a certain someone that chooses to remain anonymous. We hope that this does not embarrass you, but you look hungry. As always, if anything is going on, please come see me in my office.'
Alfred Jones might have been a hard ass at times, but he truly did care about the safety and comfort of every single employee in his office. Inside the lunch bag he found a turkey sandwich, an apply, and some orange juice. With a smile, he opened up the orange juice and began to munch on the apple. Although, he could not figure out who the other sender was, the one who chose to remain anonymous. With a shrug, he thought that perhaps he never would know and decided to just enjoy his early morning lunch, anyways.