Chapter three
And so Alfred left the room, and though to Arthur he seemed like an oblivious, idiotic man he still took care to lock the door behind him, so he couldn't really be that stupid. Arthur got up, pulling off his hoodie, and walked around the room; the windows were small, too small for him to crawl through with his wings. Even if he had somehow managed to fit through, his newly acquired injuries prevented him from doing so. So instead of continuing to look for ways of an obviously impossible escape, Arthur pressed his ear gently up against the poster covered door and listened carefully. Not that he needed to listen very hard for the American, he was loud enough but the man who was supposedly his brother seemed a lot more soft-spoken.
"Hi Al, I'm sorry I'm late, I came straight from the-"
"Mattie!" Arthur heard through the door, and the sound of a breathless squeal. He frowned at the man's rude manners.
"A-Alfred, please don't hug so tight, I can't breathe." There was a quiet whisper and slight wheezing.
"Oops, sorry Matt, I forgot." A relieved sigh echoed through the door as he was released.
There was a click of the key twisting in the lock's guts before the door swung open and Matthew entered the brightly coloured room, a little smile coming to his face as he did so. It looked exactly the same as it had when they had been little boys. He wondered if Alfred would ever grow up, but found himself realising that he didn't want him to anyway.
The only thing that was out of place was the small drips of dried blood on the carpet and more on his brother's bed, along with the small man that was standing in the middle of the room, supposedly the guy who's blood was spattered around Alfred's room. Matthew's mouth dropped as his eyes scanned the battered figure, lingering on the wide wings that looked completely natural yet so awkward on the man's thin back. Suddenly, Matthew caught the man's gaze. Hard green eyes stared into his own, burning with something that Matthew recognised but couldn't place. They narrowed, blazing with hostility, almost daring him to take a step closer. Matthew quickly looked away and took a deep breath before looking back at the stranger, trying to act professional.
"Hey Arthur!" Alfred called, far too loudly for the size of the room and walked up with bouncing strides, like some sort of hyperactive puppy and slung an arm around him, not noticing the wince that resulted from it. Arthur muttered something, which Alfred frowned at before his face stretched into a smile.
"Artie, this is my brother, Mattie. Mattie, this is Arthur!"
Arthur looked up and his mouth dropped, green eyes widening with a mix of emotions that the Alfred's twin recognised but couldn't quite place. When Arthur remained in his place, seemingly frozen to the spot, Matthew smiled and stepped forward, extending a hand. The scruffy haired blonde sprang back, wrenching himself from beneath Alfred's arm and gasped quietly. He mouthed something and from what Matthew could see, it appeared to be 'white coat'. He frowned slightly because it made no sense before looking back up at Arthur. His green orbs once again met his, hard and flaming with anger, pain and...fear?
Alfred looked back at his brother, obviously confused and then back at Arthur.
"Artie, man, what's wrong?"
Alfred hadn't been expecting it, not again. A split second after the question was asked, Arthur had shoved past Mattie and was at the door, hand on the doorknob, about to twist and make his way to freedom.
"Arthur, stop!"
Alfred burst forward, grabbing Arthur by his hood and dragging him back with one sharp jerk of the arm. The man was hollering at the top of his lungs, eyes too wide and wild. They darted everywhere while he desperately fought to pull himself away, nails reaching back behind him and scratching at Alfred's hands.
Alfred stared in astonishment at the once calm man he was now holding by the fabric of his hoodie. What had sent this man –so calm about everything before, even accepting the fact that he was going to prison without so much a blink- into this feral frenzy? Arthur seemed nothing like the man he had conversed with, not now.
Suddenly there was a flurry of loose feathers that filled the entirety of the room, shook loose from his injured wing as he flapped both frantically, despite the pain this must have put him in. Both Alfred and Matthew's hair was whipped backwards by the sudden wind that resulted from the fast beating of those massive wings, and all the pieces of paper that were on the floor flew up and over the place. The winged man even managed to gain a small amount of lift, feet somewhat raising until the tips of his toes scraped the floor.
"Arthur!" Alfred shouted, above the noise of rushing wind. "Stop, you're only hurting yourself more!"
Arthur twisted again and one of his great wings hit Alfred, pushing him backwards and forcing him to let go for a moment. And a moment was enough for him. He was at the door in an instant, and he turned the doorknob, only for it to click and stop turning halfway.
Alfred had the only key.
"No!" Arthur shouted. "Open, DAMN IT!" He rattled the doorknob, shaking it so hard that Alfred was afraid it would fall off until he resorted just to shouting incomprehensible curses and kicking the door as hard as he could, despite the fact that he was not wearing shoes.
Alfred, getting up slowly and slightly dizzy, having hit his head against a bedpost after falling back, blinked and readjusted his glasses. Then he saw Arthur assaulting the door with his feet and swore, rushing forward again.
Matthew waited on the sidelines, eyes wide and frightened as he watched his brother tackle Arthur to the ground. All his brother had told him before was that he had caught a criminal (he was very excited by this at this point) but he also needed a little treatment. When Matthew had asked his brother why he couldn't have treatment at the hospital, Alfred had told him that there were 'special circumstances'. He didn't think it would be like this.
This time, Alfred had his arms around the smaller man, pressing his huge wings to his sides. Arthur wriggled, squirming and biting, choked gasps forcing themselves up and out of his mouth as his breathing quickened to a worrying point. He was in hysterics, meaningless pleadings pouring from his lips in stream of almost-gibberish and the only things that Matthew could catch were 'Stop it!', 'Let me go' 'Don't, please' and endless repetitive 'no's, everything he said littered with them. Much of his sentences didn't make any sense.
Eventually, Arthur's scrabbling hands became weaker, his fingertips losing clutch on Alfred's arms and Matthew noted that his face was completely drained of colour, tinted with a little green, as if he was about to be sick. Quite suddenly, the small man's struggling stopped all together and he slumped forward in Alfred's arms, head lolling loosely, as if about to drop off.
After a long look of suspicion, Alfred loosened his arms. When Arthur didn't react, he let go completely, and the small body crumpled to the floor. His eyes widened and he quickly bent down and scooped up the man into his arms, turning him over and looking worriedly at his now calm face, serene and at peace after the previous events.
"Shit, Mattie, I didn't crush his lungs or anything, did I?"
When his brother didn't answer, Alfred started to panic himself and turned to his brother with fearful eyes. "Oh geez, Matt, I've killed him-"
"-Alfred." Matthew interrupted softly, walking to his brother and taking Arthur in his own arms. He had more difficulty carrying him, of course, but he was still surprised at how light he was. He turned and carried him over to Alfred's bed, laying him down as gently as he could. "You haven't crushed his lungs, and you haven't killed him. He just passed out because he was hyperventilating."
Matthew saw his brother's shoulders relax and heard a sigh of relief and when he looked back at Alfred, who had taken off his glasses, eyes closed and was pulling his fringe back as he wiped a hand over his forehead and back over his skull.
"I can see why you didn't want to take him to a hospital. He certainly didn't react well to seeing me, did he?" Matthew said, fingering his long white coat that he hadn't had time to remove since work. He guessed it was that that had sent Arthur into what seemed to be a panic attack.
Alfred held up his hands. "Hey, I had no idea, he was going to freak out like this, dude. I thought it would just be better if you came, 'cause, y'know, he has wings and stuff." He put his glasses back on his head and glanced at Arthur, biting his lip. "I guess he has a fear of doctors or something. He is gonna wake up, ain't he, Mattie?"
The doctor snorted and rolled his eyes at his brother, even though he knew Alfred could only see his back. "Of course he is, stupid. But he's actually gonna be easier to treat now that he's knocked out." Matthew examined his patient and tsked at Alfred's bandaging skills, looking at the clumsily wound strips of fabric before taking off Arthur's shirt and he started to peel them off.
"Mattie-"
"Shut up, Al, no questions 'till I'm done."
He fell silent.
Matthew continued to strip Arthur of his bandages. He tended to the injured wing first. The wound was bleeding even more profusely now, having been damaged in Arthur's panic, and blood was beginning to stain into the sheets of Alfred's bed, and spread even further around the wing, slicking the feathers with a new coating of the red liquid. The wing, compared to the other, was now missing many feathers which were currently strewn around the room, a few actually residing in Matthew's hair. Matthew quickly opened the med pack he had brought with him and started to staunch the flow of blood, applying pressure to the wound, but not too much, nervous that he might cause more harm to the delicate bones in the wing. He was no vet. Once the bleeding had almost stopped, he sterilised the wound, and began to wrap clean bandages around it, though not very well, as all those feathers got in the way. After that, Matthew examined the rest of the wounds, doing the same to the others, but a small frown appeared on his face.
"Alfred, how did you say Arthur got all these injuries?"
"Uh, well, Artie had stolen some cash from a bunch of dudes that then started chasing him and throwing rocks and bottles and stuff at him while he was in the air, and then he just fell. And then I saved him, 'cause I'm just cool like that, y'know? Why'd ya ask?"
The frown remained on Matthew's face.
"Arthur does have lacerations, minor ones that could've come from thrown objects like that, but he also seems to have quite a lot of cuts. Ones obviously not from any thrown object, unless it was something such as a knife or similar. They're slightly older than the lacerations too."
"Huh?"
"Lots of bruises too. Aw, geez, Al, you didn't take the splinters of glass out of his feet. They're gonna take ages to get out now." Matthew complained, bending down so he could take a better look at the soles of Arthur's feet.
He took a pair of tweezers and started slowly and methodically picking the tiny shards out of his foot. Luckily, none seemed too deep. Normally, with something like this, Matthew would've applied a plaster but these tiny puncture wounds were all over his feet, so he just slapped on a couple more bandages. His toes on his right foot were fine, though extremely bruised from kicking the door so hard. It was a miracle that Arthur hadn't broken anything. Finally, he was done, having stuck down the last large plaster to the shallow cut on Arthur's forehead. Luckily, none of the wounds were too serious and none would need stitches.
Suddenly Matthew noticed something that made him frown even more.
"God, Alfred, I know you're not a doctor or anything, but even you should know not to use dirty bandages on someone's hands." He said, irritated. Honestly, he loved his brother but sometimes Alfred could be so stupid!
"What bandages? I didn't bandage his hands."
Matthew held the unconscious man's left hand, looking closely. They were not bloody, but the bandages were filthy, and obviously hadn't been removed or changed for weeks. The doctor tried to find where they started to he could take them off, but they were so coated in grime that he couldn't. In fact, when he looked, Arthur was very dirty. Though the dark colour of his hoodie and jeans hid the grunge, Matthew could tell just by the state of his bare feet and his hair, as well as the smell of the small man.
"Alfred, I think Arthur is homeless!"
"What? No way!"
"Have you seen the state of him? It looks like he hasn't washed his hair for weeks, he is extremely thin and he was stealing money. It seems really likely."
"I guess..."
Alfred squirmed, uncomfortable. Is that why Arthur didn't seem all that bothered about going to jail? 'Cause even prison was better than living on the streets?
Matthew picked up some scissors and cut the bandages straight off, having given up hope on ever finding the beginning of the bandage. What he saw underneath made Matthew gasp so loud that Alfred instantly came running over. Scars covered the entirety of Arthur's hands, from the beginning of his thin wrists to the tips of his slender fingers, the healed skin discoloured and patchy, considerably darker than the rest of the skin on his body. Horror filled Matthew, and Alfred's jaw practically dropped off his head. Matthew dropped the burnt hand instantly and drew his own back to his chest, tightly holding them together. Arthur stirred slightly in his sleep, his large brows furrowing slightly before he twisted over, snuggling his head deeper into Alfred's bloodstained duvet. The sight of Arthur's back brought a whole new wave of shock to the brothers; small circular burns, each only about a centimetre in diameter littered the pale skin on Arthur's thin back, except for the patch of skin that covered his shoulder blades, where his wings were attached to his body. These had occurred more recently, though both brothers could tell that some were older than others.
A tattoo was situated on the back of his neck, black ink as dark as pitch against the winged man's pale skin tone. It was a one line, standing alone, written in some foreign alphabet that Alfred didn't recognise.
Когда наступит тьма, даже ангелы будут падать.
"...Do you know what language that is, Mattie? 'Cause I sure don't."
"...No idea."
Matthew's eyes were still wide.
"God. I wonder what happened to him."
There was a long silence after that and Arthur turned again, hiding the scar and the tattoo on his neck.
"Mattie..." Alfred began, and he wrung his hands and looked down. "I want to help him."
"What? Arthur? Alfred, he's a criminal, he stole money from people! Who knows what else he has done?" Matthew said, looking at Alfred as if he was off the rail. Yes, he felt sorry for Arthur, but if his brother wanted to be a hero he couldn't go around making friends with every common thief in the neighbourhood.
"Aw, don't be like that Mattie. Arthur may've stolen stuff, but he's not a bad person."
"How do you know that?" Inside, Matthew agreed, but his more rational side scolded himself. Arthur was a complete stranger, one who had broken the law at that...
"I just do. Look, Matt, I know him, you don't."
That comment almost made Matthew explode.
"You've known him for a day!" He blurted out.
Alfred pouted, sticking out his lip like a smaller child. "Mattie, at least give him a chance. That's all I'm asking. Let him recover a bit at least before you make me cart his ass off to jail."
Matthew sighed, wiping a hand down his face in frustration. "Fine. I don't care. Do whatever you want."
"Yay, Mattie!" Alfred beamed and flung his arms around Matthew's neck and squeezed. He let go abruptly when he heard an alarming cough and grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "Sorry Matt..."
"It's fine..." Matthew managed to choke out, rubbing his neck and smiling a little, to reassure his older brother.
Suddenly there was a rustle of sheets, and a thick ground emerged from Arthur's slightly parted lips. His eyelids opened, already feeling crusty and looked around. He was in that room, that git, Alfred's room. What had happened? He remembered seeing that man...Alfred's brother and his breath hitched. Arthur looked around, and there he was, sitting on the edge of his bed.
Arthur backed away with a cry, falling off the bed in the process and landing painfully on his shoulder. His vision was still spinning slowly as he hit the ground but he scrambled up, one hand clutching the bed, the other his head, trying to stop his world from rotating.
Alfred was the first of the two to notice.
"Arthur!" He exclaimed. "You're awake!"
He jumped up and headed for him, but the smaller man flinched away, leaning back against the wall. "You get away from me." He ordered weakly, voice quavering and unsteady. His yes screwed up as he clutched his head.
Matthew went closer, slowly. He didn't make any sudden movements, realising that now, Arthur was like a trapped animal. Wary, frightened and ready to lash out.
"Arthur," He said, hands raised to show his empty palms. He took a step closer. "Don't be scared. I'm not going to hurt you." Another step.
"I'm not frightened!" Arthur snapped, green eyes scorching, wide, fearful. "Don't come closer!"
"Please, Arthur, I'm only trying to help-"
"That's what they all say!" Matthew took another step. "I told you not to come closer!" Arthur screeched and he shook visibly, the tips of his wings quivering. But there was nothing that he could do about it, not really. He was so close now...
"Arthur, look at yourself. Who do you think bandaged you? The fairies?" Matthew raised an eyebrow and gave a small smile, hoping that Arthur would return with one of his own. He didn't, but he didn't say anything either.
Arthur's breathing was jutted, shaking with his trembling body. He closed his eyes slowly, before stepping forward. When he opened them again, his body had stilled and the pained look was gone, but flickers of fear still sparked in his eyes. He began to fiddle with a feather that he had picked out of his hair, twisting it in his burnt fingers.
"I want to help you, Arthur." Alfred declared. Matthew retreated and let his brother take over. Arthur looked up, confusion evident in his expression.
"You what?"
"I'm not gonna take you to prison. I don't think you're a bad guy, you've just got problems."
Arthur chuckled, dispelling the tension in both his and Alfred's shoulders. "Well, that is certainly true. I have many problems." His green eyes softened, though they still flickered nervously. "Well...thank you, I suppose." He said, then looked over to where Matthew stood. He had taken off his coat and put it away, folded in his backpack and Arthur visibly relaxed. "And you too. I'm sorry...that wasn't a very good first impression. I haven't had many...good experiences with white coats, you see."
Almost reluctantly, Arthur walked up to Matthew, though obviously fighting the urge to flee. He extended a hand, which Matthew gladly accepted, but something squirmed in his stomach as he touched the scarred flesh. "I'm Arthur Kirkland. It's a pleasure to meet you, Matthew...?"
"Williams." He said smiling. "Matthew Williams."
They broke apart, both smiling though Arthur's seemed slightly forced. The tips of his fingers were trembling again.
"Hey, don't I get a handshake, Artie?" Alfred asked, forcing his way in-between the two. Both males on the other side of him rolled their eyes. "It's not fair if Mattie gets one and I don't!"
Sighing heavily, Arthur extended a hand which Alfred began to shake furiously before it was quickly snatched away by Arthur. His hands were at his chest and he looked down at them, eyes shocked but wincing.
"Still hurts..." Arthur whispered to himself. Before looking up slightly, going slightly red. "Do you-" He began, before clearing his throat and speaking up, realising that his voice was still a hoarse whisper. "Do you mind if...if I borrow some gloves, perhaps?"
He hated asking for things and went redder, hiding his ruined hands behind his back, embarrassed and angry at them for taking the bandages away and angry at himself for letting them be taken away.
Matthew realised and nodded. "I-I'll go get them." He stammered and left quickly.
Alfred knew people thought he was stupid, that he couldn't read the atmosphere. And he couldn't, not really, not most of the time, but you really had to be an idiot if you couldn't tell that Arthur was upset. He came closer to the small man, touching his shoulder lightly.
"Why don't you have a shower, ok?" Alfred said, softly. Arthur looked up. Then the hero grinned. "You really stink!"
Arthur scowled and walked away, but it was true and he knew it. He walked to the door and was about to walk through when,
"It's over there Artie!"
"It's not Artie!" Arthur cried before storming over to the other door and walking in, before slamming it shut and clicking the lock. The sound of artificial rain arrived quickly, accompanied by sighs of relief.
Alfred leaned against the door briefly and shouted through the wood, "I'll get you some clothes. I'm burning your old ones!"
"Fuck you!" Came the reply and Alfred left quickly before bursting into laughter.
Oh, this was going to be fun.
Author's note: I AM SO SORRY! To anyone who actually reads this or any other of my stories. I can't believe I went so long without updating T^T I am such a bad person, especially when I got all these lovely reviews! The only excuse I can give is family troubles, not even school, 'cause I'm on holiday. It's not a proper excuse really, so feel free to complain as much as you like to me. And concerning future updates, there probably won't be one for a while as I STILL have to update my other stories, and I'm going to be visiting Romano on Friday for a week, to go see Pompeii, Herculaneum and other Roman bits and bobs on my school Latin trip. I'll also be walking up his giant ZIT (i.e. Mt. Vesuvius) and I am very excited about it all. HOWEVER, this also means I will not be able to write a thing while I'm there.
Anyone recognise that alphabet which Artie's tattoo is written in? It's pretty easy actually, you'll probably all know it. Oh an I'll reveal the meaning later, not sure when but yeh. Unless you just look it up on GoogleTranslate but...THAT'S CHEATING .
I had difficulty writing this. It all seemed all unrealistic and just bleh, but now I'm pleased with it :) But, Christ, Canada was dull to write. I don't know, I just don't like writing him, even though I quite like him. Sorry Canada fan :
And gosh, so many brilliant reviews! The artist formerly known as, Miniflip999, Skadiyoko, MelodyOfStarshine, Alphine, Sam and princesspug, I love you all. I also love anyone who read & liked or anyone who favourited me or the story. But I love the reviewers especially. I'm glad that you guys though that my Alfred sounded American.
Skadiyoko, I will try to incorporate one of those pairings into the story if I can find somewhere to introduce the characters. I'm kinda making this up as I go along, so I'm not sure which characters will actually appear and where (apart from a certain Frenchman and Russian). I like Blue Star because, as you said, patriotic names get boring -_- I hope you recover from your shank wound *glares at England*
The artist formerly known as, Angel thingy Arthur is awesome sauce.
Thanks again, for reading and reviewing, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
Oh yeah, I'm also still accepting Alfred superhero name suggestions, and also pairing suggestions. For the superhero names, I'll probably make a poll or something on my account and the people who actually read this can vote between the ones people have submitted and a few of my own :3 I might also do that with a few pairings, but later, when I actually figure out where this story is going.
And I almost forgot the disclaimer. Arthur Kirkland, Alfred F. Jones and Matthew Williams all belong to Himaruya Hidekaz, sadly. Not to me. *sobs*
(Christ, those Author's Notes were long...)