(( Hi! Welcome to Chapter 2! Not quite sure how many chapters in total it will be yet…
Anyways, please don't forget to review! I need your input and critique. It drives me to work harder and actually update. I'm not expecting big, long messages, though. Don't worry. (though that would be nice, lol)
So, I hope you enjoy the next installment! Chapter 2, initiating now! ))
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"He needs plenty of bed rest in a comfortable environment. Make sure he gets plenty of liquids, like water and tea, to drink. Follow the instructions on the prescription bottle closely, as he needs to take all of the medication. And I would recommend a heating pad for chest pains, and a humidifier to keep the air from getting too dry," the doctor instructed, as Alfred listened closely.
Arthur sighed from his place on the edge of his bed. Why was he giving instructions to America? He finished buttoning up his light jacket, now back into the clothes he was wearing when brought to the hospital. It seemed like they had been cleaned since yesterday morning, though.
It was in the early afternoon of the next day, and England just wanted to go home to get some sleep. Without the blankets covering him, he felt so cold. The room was a normal temperature, but his fever made it feel like he was outside in snow with only a long-sleeved shirt on.
Suddenly, Alfred came to stand in front of him. "Ready to go?" he asked with a smile.
Arthur stood up, narrowing his eyes at the overly cheery man. "Yeah…" he let out, feeling a bit irritable.
"Do you need me to get a wheelchair?"
"No!"
Within a few minutes, they were heading out the front door. It was another chilly November day, with a bit of a breeze.
Out of nowhere, Arthur felt something heavy drop onto his shoulders. Confused, he looked around to see what the offending source was. Next to him was Alfred. Strangely, he was missing his coat. Did he forget it? No, he was wearing it when they left.
Then, Arthur pieced it together through his lack of coherency. He looked down to see Alfred's coat wrapped around himself.
"I don't need it," he complained, glaring at America.
"Nonsense! You're shivering. You need it more than I do," he said with his usual goofy smile.
Arthur hadn't noticed that fact. He didn't say anything else to protest, a bit surprised by his uncharacteristic perceptiveness and gesture. Alfred seemed a bit different right now. It was a bit… confusing.
Before he knew it, they were standing beside the car. It must have been a rental, judging by the license plate. Alfred opened the passenger side door for Arthur. Completely docile for the moment, he just got in without complaint. As Alfred closed the door and went to the driver's side, Arthur pulled the warm jacket tighter around him.
It smelled like fast food… Oddly enough, it was a bit of a comforting smell.
Now I'm delusional, Arthur thought to himself with a sigh. The car started to move out of the parking lot, America heading in the direction of England's house.
They were quiet for a little while, since Arthur was preoccupied with trying not to fall asleep with his forehead against the window.
"What would you like for dinner when you get home?" Alfred asked, breaking the silence.
"I'm not hungry…" Arthur quietly responded with a cough.
"You probably haven't eaten in two days now! That's no good," America persisted.
"Three days. I wasn't feeling well enough to make anything myself."
Alfred frowned at his worriedly. "Did you have any help?"
Arthur sighed, not really caring about what he told America. "My friends are no good with modern kitchenware. The unicorn and twin sprites tried to convince me to go to the doctor."
"Well, why didn't you listen to them?!" he asked, his voice full of concern.
Arthur's eyes widened at the man's response. He glanced at America, who still had his eyes on the road. Usually Alfred would poke fun at him or say that the mythical people weren't real. This reaction… was extremely unusual. Arthur felt himself blush a bit, actually ashamed that he had worried America that much.
After a while, they finally reached the beautifully built two-story house. Arthur had nodded off not too long ago.
Alfred lightly shook his shoulder to try and wake him up, though he felt bad for doing so. Well, the doctor did say that he would be better off resting in bed. America got out of the car and went to England's side, carefully opening the door so that he wouldn't fall out.
"Need any help getting inside?" he asked Arthur, who was still half-asleep.
"No…" he replied groggily. They took it slow getting inside, Arthur holding his friend's coat close to his body to protect himself from the cold. He made sure to hand it back when they got through the door.
"Maybe you should sleep in one of the downstairs guest rooms," Alfred suggested, knowing that his room was on the second floor.
"I want to be in my own bed," Arthur replied bitterly.
"Do you need help getting up the stairs?"
"No." He felt really woozy, but he would just have to be careful.
Alfred watched him as he went up the staircase, just to make sure he didn't fall. Soon, all was quiet. He heard rough coughing a bit, but not much could be done about that. Alfred dug the medicine out of his coat's pocket to read the instructions. Two pills every day, one in the morning, one at night, okay to take with meals.
That didn't sound too hard. It was a good thing they could be taken with meals, since Alfred desperately needed to get some food into Arthur A.S.A.P.
He went straight to the kitchen to see what he had to work with. Alfred went rummaging through all the cabinets and the fridge. Judging by how little there was, it seemed that Arthur hadn't gone grocery shopping in a while. Probably not since before he contracted the flu.
America sighed, feeling a bit bad. He went back into the cabinet to retrieve a can of condensed chicken noodle soup.
…
Arthur was awakened by the sound of knocking on his door less than an hour after he had laid down. With a hint of annoyance in his voice, he answered, "Come in."
Sure enough, it was America. Balancing a tray on one hand so he could open the door, he came in with a confident expression on his face. "I made some soup for you, and brought some water with the medication," he said, setting the try down on the bedside table.
Arthur sat up to take a pill and a swig from the filled water bottle. Replacing the bottle on the table with a few coughs, he went back to lay down facing the other way.
"You didn't even touch your dinner," Alfred complained.
With a sigh, Arthur looked over his shoulder. He reached out and tapped the edge of the bowl, then made himself comfortable in his previous position. "There. I touched it," he grumbled.
Alfred narrowed his eyes at him like some child. "That's not what I meant. Wait… are you still in your regular clothes?"
Arthur groaned in resonse.
"That's no good! You can't get really comfortable like that," Alfred chastised him. He instantly went over to Arthur's armoire to look through all the drawers for pajamas.
"Hey! Don't go through my stuff!" Arthur sat up to complain, but broke out into a coughing fit. All of this was making his chest hurt. He looked up when he felt something drop on his legs.
Alfred had picked out some nightwear for him and put it at the foot of his bed. Now the man was grabbing the water bottle and unscrewing the cap. He quickly handed it to Arthur, who sat up to take it and gulp down some. He calmed down quite a bit, able to breathe now.
America felt England's forehead. He was still boiling up. "Change into your pj's and get some sleep. I'll leave the soup in case you get hungry. And make sure to drink the water."
Compliantly, Arthur nodded. Alfred ruffled his hair, then left the room, closing the door behind himself. Arthur put the water bottle back on the table and went to get dressed into more comfortable clothes. He could feel his heart beating a mile a minute. And had a sinking feeling that it wasn't from not being able to breathe.
…
The next morning, the house was completely quiet. Arthur lay in bed, not being able to hear a thing. Was America awake? Or…
"England! England! You're back!" he heard. All of his friends came through the door. All of his 'imaginary' friends (according to the other nations).
"We were so worried," the gnome said, looking concerned.
"It would be horrible if something bad happened," the fairy said, perching on his bedpost.
"I'll be fine, guys," Arthur replied with a smile. He spotted the brownie standing nearby the spirit. "Thank you for calling an ambulance."
The brownie blushed. "I'm sorry, they couldn't hear me like you can. But I thought they would be able to tell where the call was coming from."
"It was a good idea," Arthur praised him.
"It was my idea first!" a sprite added. She always liked to take credit for things, though managed to be cute anyways. "I convinced him to use the phone, since I'm too small for the buttons."
Arthur chuckled. "I owe my thanks to all of you." Though, something was bothering him.
"What's wrong?" the unicorn asked, noticing the expression on his face.
"Well…" England thought for a few seconds. "I-Is there anyone else here?"
They all looked at each other, confused. "No, only us," a few answered in unison.
"Are you talking about America?" the spirit asked. "He left hours ago."
Arthur sighed. Suddenly, he heard a growling noise. He jumped a bit, looking around. "What was that?"
"I think that was your stomach telling you that you're hungry," the fairy giggled.
Arthur became aware of a bit of gnawing pain. His appetite seemed to have returned. The soup on the side table had to be bad by now, though.
And America wasn't around anymore.
He sat up, wrapping his quilt tightly around him. "I'm going to make some lunch," he said, noticing that it was close to 11am.
"Should you be out of bed, though?" the twin sprites asked.
"It can't be helped," Arthur sighed. He slowly made his way out of the room, feeling a bit chilly now. His friends stayed close behind to keep an eye on him. He shuffled to the kitchen, and went straight to the cabinets with canned soup. Starting to feel a bit dizzy, he grabbed the counter for support. The quilt slipped off a bit.
"Isn't there anything we can do?" the spirit asked.
"It's okay. I don't want you guys to hurt yourselves," he said with a hesitant smile. Arthur continued his business after pulling the quilt back up. He noticed that Alfred had left a bit of a mess on the stove and counter. Heaving a sigh, he grabbed a clean pot.
He continued getting things ready. Though, he didn't know how much longer he would make it. Everything was swaying back and forth as he felt colder and colder. Which wasn't helping his cough.
Finally, Arthur was able to get the pot with soup on the stove. It would probably be a good idea to slice up an apple to eat. He went to the fridge to retrieve a Golden Delicious apple from the fruit drawer, then a knife from the drawer nearby. On the open counter, he started to carve it up. His hand shaky, it was really hard to cut it in half. Not to mention, the quilt was falling again.
The knife went straight through the center of the apple after a bit of applied effort. Arthur felt a small sense of accomplishment. But that was soon washed away by a harsh, stinging feeling.
Arthur noticed a cut on the end of his index finger. He just stared as the blood swelled out of the deep incision. He knew he should do something, but couldn't think straight. He was frozen in place as the red liquid spilled onto the counter.
Suddenly, someone grabbed his shoulders and pushed him to the sink. His hand was pulled under the faucet and cold water was run over his bleeding finger. Arthur was vaguely aware of someone rushing around behind him. Quickly, his finger was pulled out of the water and dried off. Before it could start gushing again, a large band-aid was wrapped around it.
Gently, Arthur was guided away from the kitchen. He spotted several bags of groceries and a few boxes dropped on the floor in the doorway of the kitchen. He was brought over to sit down on the living room couch as the quilt was wrapped around him fully.
Arthur now found himself right at Alfred, who had his hands on his friend's shoulders. Arthur became aware that he was trying to talk to him, looking a bit panicked.
"-you okay? Arthur, are you alright?" he asked.
"Eh? … You're back," England said distantly.
"Of course! You think I'd leave you when you were like this?" Alfred responded, with a reassuring smile.
Arthur looked away, a bit ashamed.
"Hold on a second," Alfred said, patting him on the shoulder. He left Arthur alone, bringing the bags into the kitchen.
He sat there, warming up, as Alfred seemed to be making himself busy in the kitchen. Not too long after, America came back with a mini foldable table, and opened it in front of Arthur.
He left again, then came back with a steaming bowl of soup, a glass of water, and the medication. Also, he had a new, evenly cut apple. "Be careful," Alfred warned. "The soup is still a bit hot."
Arthur absentmindedly nodded in acknowledgement. Alfred smiled and retreated back to the kitchen. England started eating slowly. It was good to finally eat again. The soup was cool by the time that he finished half of the apple.
Alfred came back with a blanket. "I got one of those heated blankets," he said, proudly. "I think it's supposed to help with your chest. But you can't use it overnight."
"… Alright," Arthur quietly said.
They sat together as Alfred switched on the tv. He channel-surfed for a bit until Arthur glared at him to make him pick a channel and stay on it. When he was finished eating, Alfred set up the blanket for Arthur, laying it on his chest as he relaxed backwards a bit and switched it on.
Alfred brought the dirty dishes back to the kitchen.
He came back not too long after, and sat back beside Arthur. They watched tv in silence for an hour or two. It didn't take much time for Arthur to fall asleep, though.
He winced in his sleep as Alfred went to feel his forehead again. Fortunately, his temperature seemed to go down a bit since he last checked. Debating on whether he should leave him be for a while or take him back to his room, Alfred decided on the latter.
He silently and gingerly switched off the blanket and rolled it up to the side. He then wrapped the quilt around Arthur a bit tighter. He was practically dead to the world at this point.
With a tender smile, America slipped one arm under England's shoulder and another beneath the underside of his knees. "Up we go," he quietly grunted, lifting up Arthur. He stirred a bit, cuddling up to Alfred's body warmth, but stayed asleep.
As slowly and as gingerly as he could, Alfred carried Arthur back up to his room.
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(( That's the conclusion of chapter 2! Thanks for reading. Again, please drop me a comment. I want to know what you think! (shameless pestering) ))