Chapter 4

Happy V-Day again everybody.

The sky was a clear blue, large fluffy clouds across the sky. The grass under him pricked his skin and flowers swayed in the breeze. Alfred smiled softly, legs stretched out on the grass before him and leaning back on his arms, watching the clouds go by. It was peaceful, so very peaceful.

Somebody was calling his name. He looked around the field that seemed to stretch on forever, but there was nobody else there. "Alfred." The world blurred quickly into darkness and he cracked his eyes open. Instead of the bright, afternoon sky it was dark, early morning by the feel of it.

Alfred turned in the bed, hand moving up to rub his eye. His vision was blurry without his glasses on, he made a small humming sound as he woke up, familiar green eyes looked down at him. Alfred smiled, "Morning." The other wasn't dressed yet, that was a good sign, "You want me to make you breakfast?" Alfred asked, hand resting on Arthur's shoulder in a light pat and smiling sleepily.

He could tell Arthur smiled back at him, "If you're feeling up to it."

Alfred nodded, letting out a small, "Uh-huh." Before continuing, still a bit groggy. "Yeah, just give me a minute..." Arthur made some noise in agreement, but leaned forward until their lips met. Alfred let the other dominate it, and it wasn't a sweet, or slow kiss. It was hard and needy. Arthur wrapped his arm around Alfred's waist, fingers already moving to his entrance and something familiar and hard pressed against his leg.

So it was one of those mornings. Alfred reminded himself that it could be worse, a lot worse. He let himself moan and wrapped his arm loosely along the others back. Pleasure was better then the pain. He didn't even have to remind himself of that as much anymore.

Still, he wished he could go back to his dream. Alfred let his body react according to the situation, but his mind was elsewhere. It never took long anyway. But it also meant he had to share a shower with the other. It could be worse. He could be angry. Alfred reminded himself again. Fear always kept him compliant.

Alfred rubbed his eye again, letting out a small yawn. Arthur's omelette was already cooked and on a couple paper towels. The shower woke him up a little, but he still couldn't wait until he got some time in the day to nap. Arthur came over and hugged him from behind, Alfred smiled, turning towards him and crouching down a bit so the other could give him a kiss on the cheek before grabbing the food wrapped in the paper towels and the mug that had tea in it, earl gray.

"Have a good day." Alfred said, as he always did.

"You too, I'll see you after work."

Alfred nodded as Arthur left through the kitchen. Alfred turned off the stove, shoveling his food onto a plate, putting the skillet on a different, cool burner before taking the plate and sitting down, eating it. He didn't really taste it, he just wasn't focused on it as much. Once he was done, he cleaned all the dishes he had used.

He started toward the linen closet, going through the list of chores he'd have to do in his head, at the very least they kept him busy. Wash the sheets and blankets, make and iron the bed and pillow cases, sweep and scrub the floors, clean both bathrooms, scrub the bathtub on the second floor, lunch, nap if he had time, dishes, dust everything, clean the windows, scrub the walls and doors, vacuum and shampoo the carpet, straighten the furniture back out. Start making dinner, polish the cupboards, chairs and table, clean the counters, sweep again. Finish dinner. Then Arthur would be home. If he dallied in anything, he wouldn't get everything done in time.

Alfred stopped when he entered the living room, eyes instantly going to the spot Ivan had fallen when he was shot. Where he had laid unmoving with his eyes staring into nothing. The blond didn't move, tears pricking his eyes. He just couldn't go back to his mind drifting away from his body out of boredom or escape. Not when he entered the living room. If I don't start the chores they won't get done. Alfred couldn't bring himself to move even at the reminder. That had been the first time he had ever see anybody die in front of him, ever be murdered. It still chilled him down to the bone.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Alfred took a hesitant step forward, the living room was different now, new furniture, though much too similar to the ones that had been there before. Most things had been replaced. But one thing that had not been was the glass rose that used to rest on the mantle above the television. Apparently it was a collectors piece, something rare. Arthur was still trying to find one, promising Alfred he would. Alfred hoped that day would never come. Because then, it would be like that day never happened. The missing piece was the only proof Alfred had now that Ivan hadn't just been his imagination.

Swallowing thickly, Alfred walked up the stairs, his feet and heart feeling heavy. He felt sick too. It had been so long since he'd felt such powerful emotions. He had to watch himself around Arthur, what he said and even his body language, eventually he just felt like a living doll, eating and sleeping and talking, smiling even, but never really there. No, living doll sounded too much like a highschool student in school. A mindless sort of absent from the body, but that wasn't it.

His mind was there, so was his heart, cause he would feel things, though they were distant and subdued, it was there. No, after a while he guessed his soul, and that felt about right. Sounded stupid and cheesy, but that was how he felt, like it had left, but he knew souls didn't just get up and walk out of their body. He assumed it had just died. Felt like it had, though it didn't make much sense either. It must just have been buried deep within him or something, but it kindled when he met Ivan, and in that moment he felt alive again. It was small, could easily just return to being dead or where ever it was and everything go back to normal. He felt powerful emotional pain again, since Ivan stepped into the house. And as much as it hurt and made him cry, it was something. It was something he was feeling, and he never wanted to lose that again. Ever.

Having more than just physical pain or just having the hallowed memory of joy. Alfred had been with Arthur for years and he couldn't honestly remember what it felt like to be happy… Before Ivan came. But god, he wanted it back. He wanted his one day back with Ivan. He wanted to feel alive and happy and talking to somebody who wouldn't hurt or lock him up for days if he said something wrong, said something too loud, or just because it was a bad day at work.

It had felt so good, and Alfred hadn't wanted it to end. A sob escaped him and he moved his hand up to rub furiously at his eyes. He should have been done crying, it had been months now. Three months, two weeks and three days to be exact - since Ivan died. Taking a deep breath again, Alfred tried to calm his raging emotions, but gave up. He had lived too long learning to tame them. Letting go when Arthur couldn't see him made him feel just the tiniest bit free. He started on his chores.

It was after he had eaten lunch and cleaned his dishes he had used before he went and put some things away, took some things out. Then he went back to the kitchen, hesitating a moment before taking a deep breath and pulling out a drawer, taking one of the sharper knives out. He heard that if it was dull it would sting more, would be harder to use too. He wasn't sure about the first part. Arthur wasn't one for knives after all.

Taking a breath he hesitated before turning his arm up to look at the underside, seemed like the most logical place. He was more careful then most probably would have been when making the cut.