.:;World of Gray;:.
CHAPTER 2 - SILENCE
"Doctor… is he going to be okay?"
Grunt.
"Doubtful."
Pause.
"But there's hope, right?"
Sigh.
"There's always hope."
The voices were faint, but Alfred could just barely make out their words. What was going on? Where was he? Why was it so dark?
He tried to move, but presently found that he couldn't. Terrified, he desperately struggled to make some sort of a noise, hoping that the other people in the room would hear him and come to his rescue. Nothing came out – not even a squeak.
"I contacted Arthur," a new voice said. It was clear as a bell and slightly high pitched.
Wait… Arthur? As in his Arthur? Arthur Kirkland? What was going on?
"And?"
"I explained the… situation, to him. He barely responded, so… I told him he could come and visit, and then the line went dead."
The man sighed.
"I've definitely heard that before. He'll be here any second, I assume."
"Probably."
Silence.
Alfred tried again to make a noise, and again his attempt proved fruitless.
He was beginning to get frustrated. Didn't they know he was here? Why were they ignoring him?
"Do you think he's fully unconscious?"
"Most likely. Why?"
"Well, it's just that… I've heard… can't some people still hear things in a coma?"
Pause.
"You could say that. In past cases, minor reactions have been reported, such as a squeezing of the hand… but the patient never remembers anything, when and if they wake up."
"Oh."
A coma? Who were they talking about? Alfred hoped it wasn't somebody he knew. That would suck. Then again, if Arthur was coming to visit, it might be. They had plenty of mutual friends, after all.
Arthur was coming to visit… Alfred didn't know quite how to feel about that. He wasn't angry anymore, not really, but on the other hand, he wasn't exactly up for apologizing - especially since he couldn't even speak. If he kept remaining unnoticed, maybe Arthur wouldn't notice him, either. Yeah! That sounded like a good plan. He would just keep very still and very silent. Which wouldn't be difficult, considering he couldn't do much else.
But... why? Why couldn't he do anything? A horrifying thought struck him: maybe he was dead. Maybe this was what it was like to be dead! Alfred F. Jones! The hero! Dead!
Along with that notion came a reasonable amount of guilt. If he really was dead, he had never gotten to fix things with Arthur.
Oh, right. Arthur hated him. Nevermind.
A door slammed.
Alfred heard panting.
"Where… where is he?" a familiar English-accented voice asked shakily.
Pause.
"Over there, sir."
Heavy footsteps.
More panting.
The heavy breathing was coming from above him. It got a bit louder as the person got closer, probably kneeling down. Alfred smelled tea.
Arthur…?
Hiccup.
"A-Alfred…"
It was Arthur.
But if Arthur had come to visit him… did that mean… did that mean he was in a coma?
Silence.
Arthur was shaking, panting heavily. Beads of sweat had gathered on his hairline, and he reached up to wipe them away before slowly kneeling down beside Alfred's bed. A strand of familiar golden blonde hair peeked out from under the starched white sheets. It was stained with blood. Arthur knew what had happened, yet the unpleasant sight still managed to catch him off guard.
"A-Alfred…" he whispered, though he knew the younger man wouldn't respond. The whole way here he'd been thinking of exactly what to say, playing endless scenarios over in his mind… but now that the moment had arrived, he found that words refused to come to him.
He fumbled for Alfred's hand and when he found it held on tightly, as if he were holding onto the boy's life. He could have sworn he felt a squeeze in return. Hopefully that meant Alfred knew he was there.
And hopefully that was enough.
A/N: Sorry this is so short. I didn't want to rush anything; plus, it adds to the dramatic effect. 8D
After this, chapters will start getting a lot longer, and I'll try to update weekly.
Reviews = C:
-Socks