Hey guys! This is where the 'depression related topics' come into play. So just a warning (I guess it's proper etiquette to warn readers before you write something that some may label as 'disturbing') this may be a cutter/depression trigger. Read on and enjoy!

As soon as Alfred opened the door, Arthur was all over him.

"Alfred F. Jones, where in God's name have you been all night?" He practically yelled.

The look on Alfred's face was enough to shut Arthur up.

"Alfred… I take it the interview didn't go as planned? Don't worry about it, though… I'm sure we can think of something. There's got to be another place to find a job! Why don't you sit down. I can make you some tea…" Arthur rushed into the kitchen, busying himself with the tea kettle.

"Don't worry about it…" Alfred sulked. "I don't even like tea." With that he mounted the stairs and locked himself in his room, leaving Arthur all alone.

Alfred locked his bedroom door behind him, sighing. Well, he thought, at least now I don't have to deal with all of Iggy's books...

The house they were currently residing in served two purposes; the down stairs was the book store that Arthur ran, obtaining most of the brother's income. The upstairs was where they lived, complete with two small bedrooms and a bathroom they had to share. Yes, the house was small, but it was all they could afford. But now that the book store wasn't paying like it used to, they could barely even do that.

That job interview was our last chance… Alfred sulked, sliding his back against the door and crossing his legs. And now we're both screwed… and it's all my fault.

Alfred buried his head in his hands. He just wanted to disappear. He wanted life to stop, he wanted to be anywhere but there.

A soft knocking on the door snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Alfred… Kiku called. Are you alright?" Arthur's concerned voice said from the other side.

"Yeah… I'm fine. I just want to be alone."

"Alright. But I'm here if you want to talk… or anything…" Arthur left, leaving the Alfred alone with his thoughts.

Kiku had learned about their little financial predicament and, being the friend he was, set Alfred up with the interview. He had known Ludwig Beilschmidt from some work they'd done together in the past, and Kiku bent over backwards to convince Mr. Beilschmidt to meet with Alfred. And after the display Alfred had put on, Mr. Beilschmidt had apparently called Kiku, concerned at the way he had acted out.

And now I've made Kiku look like an idiot… I wouldn't be surprised if he never wanted to see me again…

Alfred got to his feet and took off the suit. He breathed a sigh of relief when he threw the suffocating fabric onto his bed, then quickly put on a white T-shirt with the Captain America shield painted on the front and left on his boxers. He opened his computer screen and clicked on the internet icon. He went to the search bar to type in YouTube, but a little box on the corner of the screen caught his attention. The wifi wasn't working.

Just what I needed… Alfred internally ranted.

He closed the screen and looked up, seeing his old box of comic books on the top of his dresser. He moved his chair over and stood on top of it, preparing to grab the box. He hadn't looked at his comics since he first heard that they might lose the book shop, so he decided then was as good a time as any. He reached his hands over his head and pushed aside his action figures to grab the box, but his chair tipped over, sending him plummeting towards the floor.

He hit the ground with a thud, his his head exploding in pain as it hit the wooden base of his bed.

"Shit!" He yelled, clutching his head.

He heard Arthr run up the stairs and practically slam into the door. "Alfred?!" He shouted. "Are you okay?!" He rattled the door handle which stayed firmly locked.

"Yeah, Iggy, I'm alright!" Alfred called back. "I just fell."

"Damn twit!" Arthur growled, clearly relieved. "Don't scare me like that. I'm going down stairs to close up shop. Just… be more careful."

Alfred listened to the sound of Arthur's foot steps retreating down the stairs as he found his way back onto his feet. He was about to try for the box again when he looked down and saw a picture of him and Arthur that had fallen down along with him, the glass frame shattered everywhere. He stared in surprise at how a significantly large shard was covered in blood. The red liquid slipped off the slick surface and spilled onto the floor. He looked down at his arm as it began to sting intensely.

The glass had slid diagonally across his arm, leaving a river of blood in it's wake. Cursing, Alfred made his way into the bathroom, making sure to lock the door behind him. He turned on the sink and fliched in pain as the blood washed down the drain in a spiraling pattern. Turning off the water, he reached up into the cabinet and pulled out a roll of gauze. He wrapped it around his arm like Arthur had taught him when he was little and watched as the blood continued to seep through, flowering on the white surface like a poppy blooming in the spring.

He watched in morbid fascination, squeezing the sides of the cut and feeling his heart beat pick up. The pain distracted him from the thoughts that pestered his mind. He continued to watch the crimson fluid leak out of the bandage.

Red was such a pretty color.