"Just let me in," Arthur muttered, pushing past his albino friend into the warmth of his apartment. He was so glad his apartment had central heating. He was bloody freezing. But that was to be expected; he did come here in pyjamas. He blushed at the recollection of that. He wore oversized cartoony spaceman pyjamas all the way here. Oh, Lord.
"Seriously," his friend said, frowning. "You really don't look awesome."
Arthur ignored him. "You got any larger, Gilbert?" he demanded wearily, already rifling through cabinets in Gilbert's kitchen.
"You know I do," the albino replied, leaning over Arthur to grab a six-pack of Stella Artois. He yanked a tin out and tossed it to the blond, who opened it instantly and downed it hastily. "Damn," Gilbert said, cracking his own beer open and taking a swig. "What happened, Artie? You haven't come to drink at my place for a few months now..." he murmured, regarding the other man with his crimson eyes, his scowl deepening when the tired man leaned against the wall. He would probably fall down if it weren't for the wall behind him.
"Lots of things have happened, Gilbert," the Englishman said with a heavy sigh, closing his eyes for a moment.
"I don't see you a lot anymore," the German mumbled, sipping his drink again. "You only come to me when you're depressed and... Shit." He ran a hand through his slick white hair and huffed. "I'm not really that articulate, you know. So... well, what I'm trying to say is--"
"Thank you."
Gilbert looked up, blinking in surprise when he saw a small smile on Arthur's face.
"You may think that I just rely on you for larger," the other man murmured quietly. "But... that isn't quite true." He turned away, embarrassed. "What I'm trying to say is--"
"Yeah. Yeah, I get you." Gilbert grinned. "Thanks."
Arthur smiled softly, but that soon disappeared as a sudden itch in his throat prompted him to cough, and he would have winced at how disgusting it sounded if he weren't too busy trying not to choke on his sharp intakes of air. He heard Gilbert talking but was too busy concentrating on trying to stop coughing. He hardly even realised being gently but urgently steered towards the sofa. He wasn't taking in enough air due to his wracking coughs, and he felt a sense of dread and panic pass through him as everything began fading to black.
Help... No... not again... not again...
O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O
It
was blur. His vision was blinded - by what? Tears? The speed? He
didn't know... it was just so foggy. Everything was blended together,
colours mixing and swirling in his vision. He couldn't see. He
couldn't see... Screaming... He heard screaming from the back
seats. Did someone say his name? That was the only thing he could
hear, and it wasn't even vivid. "Arthur!" was screamed more
than once, but it sounded so muffled. The tone was horrified,
panicked, and he heard sobbing, but it was... so blur... It
only got worse when he accelerated. Coldness washed in all around
him, and the crying and screaming seemed to stop and an odd echoing
sound resonated in his ears, and he saw murky brown... It was cold...
just like Before
everything turned black, he saw sunflowers in the snow... covered and
surrounded by blood. "You can't
escape."
O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O
He woke with a silent scream, mouth open but no sound coming out, and he thrashed violently. "Gedorff!" he slurred weakly but defiantly, gasping and squirming frantically.
"Arthur! Arthur, it is me. It's Francis. Calm down."
Recognising the voice, the thrashing died down slightly, and the blond man panted heavily, trying to breathe more, feeling as if he had been under water for a long time.
"Arthur?" came a nervous and concerned voice. "You all right, buddy?"
Slowly, the Englishman's emerald eyes flickered open and he saw two faces hovering over him. Instantly, he pushed himself up, face heating up. "I-I'm so sorry--" he spluttered.
"Don't be," Gilbert said awkwardly. "It wasn't your fault... Lay back down," he ordered, and Arthur found himself complying slowly. The albino turned away, swallowing. "I... I need a beer," he grumbled, rushing into the kitchen.
Arthur looked after him, brows drawn together in confusion, but he snapped back into reality when his chin was grabbed gently and he was forced to meet sapphire eyes. "Francis," he muttered darkly, looking at his forehead instead of his eyes. "Sor--"
"Don't," the French man interrupted softly. "Don't apologise." He sighed tiredly and shook his head. "'Ow can you be a therapist when you still blame yourself for the incident?" He grimaced when Arthur flinched so strongly he almost fell off of the sofa. "They survived, you know." He frowned deeply when Arthur's eyes filled with tears.
"I know," he whispered, shoulders shaking and body trembling. "But... it's the fact that I did it... It's the fact that I drove off that pier and into that fucking lake..." He choked on a sob, but the water in his eyes didn't fall. "I had two kids in the back, Francis." He finally met his ex-boyfriend's eyes. "Kids..."
Heart wrenching, Francis pulled Arthur into his chest, a solemn expression on his features. "But they are okay, Arthur. Tino and Berwald are looking after Peter, and Lillian(1) lives with Vash..."
"I was a terrible parent," Arthur whispered, vision blurring.
"You were young," Francis said sharply. "Elizabeth died shortly after giving birth to Peter, and her sister put Lillian in your care. You were only a teenager, not to mention a single parent and you were dealing with him." Here both men's faces darkened. "It wasn't your fault... I just... wish I was there for you during that," he mumbled, looking away with immeasurable guilt on his face.
Arthur swallowed and shook his head. "It's over now," he said quietly. He decided to divert the conversation. "Why did you come over here...?" he asked wearily.
"Gilbert called me," Francis explained, recognising the elusive act but not mentioning it. "Shortly after you began coughing..."
"Oh." Arthur's already-prominent flush from his temperature deepened due to embarrassment.
"He said you walked here... dressed as you are now." He glared. "Are you stupid?"
The Englishman heaved another sigh and leant back, closing his eyes. "Don't..." he murmured.
Francis shook his head, and then perked up. "Matthieu came around to my 'ouse," he said, and Arthur shot up again.
"Is he all right?"
"Well, yes," the blond man said, quirking a brow. "Half of his face is bruised, he was sobbing, but I made him feel better - not like that," he assurred the Brit when faced with a ferocious glower. Francis scowled back slightly. "I'm not the kind of person who takes advantage of another when they are that upset, in spite of what you may think," he snapped.
"Sorry," Arthur muttered after a moment.
"Non, non, je suis desolé." His dark features melted into a small smile. "Just rest now, Arthur. You need it."
The Englishman hesitated a bit at first, but soon gave in and let himself doze off. Francis covered him with a duvet and then quietly entered the kitchen.
"Gilbert?" he muttered quietly, regarding the albino man who was clutching a dented beer can, staring out the window with a hollow gaze.
"So many damn sunflowers... So damn many..."
O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O
"Ugh," a man groaned in annoyance, pushing himself up from his bed and grabbing his pink mobile phone. "Like, who calls at midnight? I mean, come on." Sighing, he flipped it open. "Hellooo?"
"Felix..."
The blond perked up instantly, eyes widening. "Toris!" he exclaimed. "Toris, like, what's up? What's happening? Are you okay?"
"I'm all right," the other man assured him, sounding exhausted.
"You sound, like... totally tired, Toris..." This never happened when I was taking care of you...
"Don't worry, Felix," Toris said softly, and Felix could almost hear his gentle smile. "I've been up for a long while taking care of Eduard... You remember him, don't you? Eduard Von Bock?"
"Yeah," Felix agreed quickly. "So, is, like, everything okay?"
"Well... Ivan... punished Eduard last night... He's not in very good shape right now. Poor Raivis is terrified..."
The Polish man gritted his teeth. Toris never thought about himself! "Like, what about you?" he demanded. "Are you, like, okay?"
"Me?" Toris sounded baffled. "Of course. Felix..." He swallowed. "I... I miss..."
"I, like, totally miss you too," the blond man said fondly, feeling his eyes sting. "But I'll see you soon." He wanted to be optimistic; it brightened Toris's spirits a little at least.
"Yes..." Toris agreed, sounding a bit happier. "Yes, I'll see you soon - I-I have to go. I hear footsteps. Good bye for now, Felix."
"Bye--"
The line went dead. Felix stared at his phone for a minute, preparing to throw it, and then slowly let his hand drop... and began to sob.
O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O
"Toris... did I hear you speaking to someone?"
"Y-yes, Mr. Braginski. I was just talking to Eduard. I know he's asleep, but... I thought it would help--"
A smack echoed throughout the room, and Toris fell off of his chair, grimacing when he hit his head against the wall, and gritting his teeth in pain when the Russian pinned him down.
"Lying is bad, Toris... Do I have to punish you, too?"
Toris didn't even try to scream anymore.
O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O Hetalia belongs to
Hidekaz Himaruya. (1) Liechtenstein. She doesn't have a human
name, so I looked up popular names in her country, and this was the
main one I found. I'll be doing the same for various other countries
later on. Ooh, the plot - it thickens! Also, I can't help
making Francis and Arthur friends. Their relationship is rocky, but
they're close. Oh, and tea and scones for those who can guess
why Gilbert was acting oddly. I made it rather obvious, but you know
how it is. Next time it'll brighten up a bit for a few
chapters, just for a break from the angst, and the rating will be
going up to 'M'. I feel so bad for poor Matthew. :'c Poor guy.
He needs more hugs. Whoever reviews gets to hug Mattie! ...For a
small fee of five dollars!/America (I'm so very British. I
wrote pounds first... twice. Oh my.) Now, if you'll excuse me,
I'm tired and only have a few minutes before I'll be heading to bed.
Thank you for reading.