"Yeah I tell myself, I like that

When you tie my hands behind my back

You're confident I'll give you that

But if you love yourself, you can fuck yourself

'Cause I'd rather be alone

But you've fermented in my bones"

Arthur stared down at his phone in disbelief as it buzzed in his hands. Francis, beautiful, horrible, "flirting" Francis was calling him for what appeared to be the hundredth time this morning. He waited for the call to voicemail and then quickly dialed in the number to get to it.

"Arthur please, I'm sorry. Mon dieu, you are making a big deal out of nothing. Pick up your phone!" Arthur stared at his phone and back at the man sitting across from him, completely unsure of what to do to deal with Francis.

"I'm guessing that that was the infamous Francis?" Alfred questioned.

"Yes…" Arthur paused. He had come to like Alfred from their conversation over breakfast. The lad was barely 21, seemed to have an annoyingly boundless amount of energy and positivity, and wanted to be an astrophysicist of all things. Looking at him, Arthur decided he could do worse for advice and decided to confide in him. "Yes, that was him. He think's I'm making a fuss out of nothing, but I don't think I am." Arthur groaned frustration. Of all the things that had happened between he and Francis, nothing had ever gone on to this extent.

"Well I suppose you should tell him how you feel? I don't know dude, I'm not real great at this stuff either. A lot of people think I'm annoying."

"You are annoying," Arthur sighed, "But I don't know if we could get through an honest conversation about our relationship without yelling.

"Welllll what's been going on lately?" Alfred said, getting up to wash his breakfast dishes. "Maybe if you can make it clear to me, you can make it clear to him!"

"He's been dafter than you are lately, Alfred. So I doubt that would help." Arthur followed him with his own dishes, handing them to Alfred when he stuck his arm out for them.

"I feel like I've been insulted." Alfred said, glaring at Arthur before turning on the sink and starting to scrub.

"That's because you have been, you twit. Anyways I'm not sure I can even describe it. It's just that something's been off these past few months." He groaned and rubbed his temples. Getting drunk had been a dumb thing to do and he was certainly regretting it now. Arthur couldn't even begin to imagine trying to deal with Francis with a hangover. He didn't think his poor head could handle the yelling.

"Oh. Burnt out?" Alfred said sympathetically. Arthur just looked at him. What the hell did that mean? Seeing Arthur's confused expression, Alfred quickly continued,

"Your relationship's burnt out dude. Oh don't look so indignant, it happens to the best of us. I'm guessing that you two started off young and in love, had a glorious few months of honeymoon period and now you're finding that it lacks that special 'spark' right?" Alfred spat out bitterly, as if he spoke from experience. "And now you want to fix things, but obviously this Francis guy's oblivious to whatever's wrong, or at least pretending to be, or getting a fix of romance somewhere so that he's satisfied when he's home," Alfred paused in his vigorous scrubbing and shook his head.

Arthur was hung over and exhausted and not prepared for the reality that his relationship was crumbling. He didn't want to let Francis go, and the same was true on Francis's side if last night's argument was anything to go off of. But the point wasn't that they weren't going to let each other go, or that they were once so passionately in love, or even the general douche bagginess of the two towards each other. The point was that Arthur loved the man still, and that the bastard was too self absorbed in his own little perfect Francis-world to even notice that anything was wrong. And Alfred, who seemed to be a new friend for better or for worse, was obviously caught up in some bad memories.

"What's with you?" Arthur asked, he'd doubted that Alfred could even swear at someone, and now he was seething about something whilst scrubbing the dishes to hell and back. "That poor plate's going to shatter." Arthur warned as Alfred started scrubbing even more harshly on the plate. The man just stared out the window as if he hadn't heard, and hell, maybe he was so caught up in what he was thinking about that he hadn't.

"Alfred." Arthur said, touching him on the arm, "What the devil is the matter?" Alfred yelled and jumped at the touch, dropping the plate and nearly falling at he slipped on some water that he spilled. Arthur couldn't stifle the laugh that rose up out of him as he watched the man swing around a wet dish rag in a panic and tried not to fall on his arse.

"JESUS CHRIST ARTHUR YOU SCARED THE TITS OUTA ME!" He screamed, which only made the Brit laugh harder.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Arthur said, trying to get his giggles in check. "That was hilarious, I'm sorry. Are you… Are you quite alright?" He wiped his eyes and looked at the younger man who was understandably glaring at him.

"Yeah, I guess. Just caught up in memories I suppose."

"Oh? About who?" Who could've done something bad enough to Alfred to make him disappear into his own mind so completely?

"Oh, uh. My mom. She cheated on my dad and their divorce was really messy."

"My condolences." Arthur had never been through a divorce, his parents were too dependent on each other to ever separate and Arthur himself had never been married. He guessed that it was horrible, especially on the children involved.

Alfred looked about to say something as Arthur's phone started buzzing again. Both men looked at the thing buzzing on the counter as if it were going to explode.

"You going to answer? Sounds like the dude's really frantic. That or he's super pissed." Alfred said, nodding sagely. Arthur figured he'd better get it over with. He reached out to the phone and tentatively pressed the answer call button.

"Francis?"

"Arthur! You finally answer me, where the hell are you? You said you'd call this morning and then you never did! I was worried you might have gone and gotten yourself killed! And what the hell was that about last night? Are you alright?" Francis shot off in rapid fire French. Arthur wasn't sure he was glad of Francis's worry about him, but he answered.

"I'm at a friends' house, he picked me up from the pub last night. I just woke up," Arthur decided that to spare Alfred the details and keep Francis from yelling, he should stick to French. It would just be simpler for all of them. "Why the hell are you so worried about me?"

"Because even though you are a thick-headed idiot whose eyebrows and personality are horrendous, we've been together this long and at least you should work through your issues." Arthur thought about getting mad over the insults, but he really didn't want the yelling to happen.

"You have issues too, Francis. We have issues, Francis. They are not just mine, we share them, idiot. I have a bad hangover at the moment, but if you'd like I can come over this evening and we can talk through this."

"Je t'aime, Arthur." Francis said hopefully.

Arthur couldn't bring himself to say it back. He ended the call and sighed. He really was being a prick to Francis, but the fact of the matter was; He just wasn't sure if it was true anymore.

Okay I know this was a short, lame chapter. And I'm sorry, but I swear I'll make it up to you guys in the next one.

EDIT: Okay so I know I promised to update every Monday, but this week has been more than a lil hectic because my family's been busy with preparations for my brother coming home. I'm sorry, I'm going to work on it as soon as I can, and it should be up in a few days.