Alfred wanted to disappear. Well, really he didn't, but he was ashamed and had no clue what to do. He'd broken down crying like a baby when Francis had asked him how he was doing, smiling and making small talk over the dinner they'd sat down to. He just couldn't say 'good' with a false grin, again. Not to Francis.
"Cher, what's wrong? What is making you so sad?" The concern in Francis' eyes made Alfred cry harder, which only made him more angry at himself. He hated crying in front of other people.
Stop crying, he chanted in his head. Get it together. He took several deep breaths, not looking up at all, before answering him.
"I'm just so scared, Francis. No one likes me and I'm already becoming less important. I'm so young, I should still be in my prime! What if I fade into obscurity and end up just a faint memory to everyone, remembered only as that one annoying kid? I can't stand it and I'm so panicked about it that I can't even focus on my work, lately, which just gives everyone more reason to hate me." He paused, balling his hands up into fists. "And everyone else is so stressed out, I don't want to bother them with my breakdown. So I just smile and act like I always do, since it is my problem, after all. But now I've gone and burdened you, one of the only people who actually likes and cares about me. I'm sorry, don't worry."
Francis got up from his seat across the table and sat right beside Alfred. He pulled the American's hands to him and held them tightly in his own, eyes wide as he stared at his tear-stained cheeks.
"Not all art goes down in history, but you are undoubtedly the greatest masterpiece in existence— in my opinion." Alfred met Francis' eyes before he answered.
"Really?"
"Oui. Alfred, mon amour, you are the embodiment of hope and sunshine. Sure, some of the others might not always be happy with you, but it's usually because they are jealous of your strength and power, or want you to do something and will complain rather than do it themselves. That's what it is to be a superpower. And I think you're doing a wonderful job. Mistakes aside, you're doing your best. I'm proud of you."
And Alfred cried again, but without shame. This time happy, contented tears. With his face against Francis' shoulder, and his curls brushing his cheek.
