A/N: Mkay so this chapter is where I really try to do Alfred some justice with what's going on with him, so there's going to be some parts in here that might be difficult to understand what's happening or who's taking, but try to roll with it.

If I've truly messed up trying to do that, please let me know so that I can try to edit it, and do more research to try to better understand how to portray this.

Thanks.

"So, Ivan," Francis began, leaning over his desk and propping his chin up in his hands, "I've heard it through the grapevine that you and Alfred had that date that you'd been discussing." He looked up, "Or, well, not the one you bet on."

Ivan hummed from where he was laying against the couch, "Mm, that's true, we did. It was rather nice. And we changed the bet." He went quiet, lacing his hands together and resting them against his stomach as though he was comfortable with leaving it at that.

Raising an eyebrow, Francis made an inquisitive noise, "Uh-huh. Would you care to elaborate?"

Smiling as he closed his eyes and leaned back, Ivan pretended to debate it a moment, though he sounded proud and pleased when he spoke, "…Alright, I suppose I can. We went to a café after class, and at first it was mostly to get food for him, but…" He shrugged a shoulder, "I don't know. We talked a lot."

Francis scribbled something down on a notepad and smiled, "Well it's always good to see communication, especially from the two of you. What did you talk about?"

"Work, our education, ages and the like," Ivan waved a hand, "Basic things, really. Oh, and I met his brother."

"Matthew? Did you get on well?"

Ivan nodded, "Yes, actually. We've seen each other before at the café, I just didn't know he was related to Alfred. He seemed nice." He paused, "And Alfred seemed very happy to see him, apparently they hadn't seen each other in a while."

With a little noise of agreement, Francis adjusted his glasses, "Yes, Alfred's had quite a lot on his plate, and Matthew's juggling his own jobs from what I understand. They haven't had the time or occasion to really connect in a good while, from what I hear from Alfred." He shrugged and then brought a finger to his lips with a slightly surprised expression, "Ah, I wonder if I've said too much. I suppose you'll have to ask Alfred if you'd like to know more about that."

Opening his eyes and looking over at Francis, Ivan pursed his lips, "Hm. I'll have to do that, then."

Francis waved a hand, "Anyway, the date!"

"Oh, yes," Ivan said dazedly with a shake of his head, "Um. I think we… what's the word, connected? Something like that. I realized some things while we talked- oh, though I forgot to tell Alfred about that, drat." He frowned, and Francis raised an eyebrow, "What did you realize?"

Ivan smiled, "I figured out why you put me in Alfred's class, specifically."

Looking surprised, Francis leaned back and toyed with his pen, "Have you, now? I'd thought it was rather obvious."

"No, that's not what I mean. I could have gotten stress relief from any dance class, but Alfred's is something different, and he's different, and there's a reason you put me with him."

Francis blinked, "…Enlighten me."

With a breath, Ivan closed his eyes again, "Alfred… he's all about expression and movement and being yourself. He's an astoundingly free person, I think. While we were talking, he told me about some ways to relax, and it was essentially just doing what felt right, and I think he's the type of person to think that way a great deal- to go for things that make him happy and that feel right."

Ivan exhaled and looked up at the ceiling, "I've… never been that type of person. You know, I've told you, I come from a strict household, and certain things were expected of me, and I've lived to the rule and made the bar my entire life. I can't remember ever just doing something because I just wanted to do it. It was always, 'if I need this, I'll get it, or I'll do it; if I don't, then I won't'. But…" He shook his head, "I don't know. I just never thought of doing things because I wanted to, or whether or not I legitimately liked what I do. I always figured if you have to do something, go all the way, and I put that into my job, but... It doesn't make me happy."

He stopped speaking for a moment, eyes locked on the ceiling, and when he spoke again, he was quiet, "It doesn't make me happy." He got a little louder and put a hand over his face, "It doesn't make me happy, Francis. I've been doing this for what feels like forever and it doesn't make me happy."

With a harsh breath and wet eyes, he looked to Francis, whose expression was open and welcoming, "Francis, I don't like my job. I thought I did, I thought work was something I liked because it got me through life, but it doesn't mean anything to me. It's a way to make money and it's literally nothing else to me."

When he'd finished, he heard Francis let out a breath, then sit back, "…Now if that wasn't a break, I don't know what is." He smiled warmly, and it comforted Ivan a little.

"Ivan, this is a good thing. I'm glad you've realized this, because you know what? That feeling you have right now? That's always been there, you just hadn't realized it. You just determined that it wasn't just your over-working that was causing you undue stress, it was your job in general. You've been taking out your displeasure with your profession on yourself by forcing yourself to do more." Francis shook his head, "This is tremendous progress, Ivan. It's only been a little over a month and you've made such strides!"

Ivan ran a hand through his hair, "That's why you put me with him, right? So that this might happen?"

"I only put you two together because I thought your personalities might match," Francis admitted, leaning against the back of his hand and smiling as he took notes, "I never imagined it would have such a profound effect on you."

Quiet for a moment, Ivan put his hand over his eyes again, "…What do I do now?"

Francis hummed at him, and Ivan continued, "What do I do with my life? Do I quit? I don't even know what really makes me happy… I enjoy economics, but not the application of it, jobs like this wouldn't be good for me anymore…"

"Well, first, take some deep breaths, mon ami," Francis said softly, "You don't have to make any drastic decisions right now. You don't like your job, that's fine. Tomorrow, not tonight, do some research on different professions involving economics, and continue looking until you find something that interests you. Personally, I think you would make a good professor."

He shrugged, "But that's just me. For now, just relax, take your new knowledge and let it help you. Do those exercises to relax that Alfred taught you, dance, do whatever you like in your free time, and only when you are ready and have a plan for a new career should you think about turning in your resignation form, alright?"

Ivan breathed carefully and nodded, "…Alright. I feel like I've wasted most of my life."

Francis smiled wistfully, "You've not wasted it. You've had experiences to learn from. Build on those, and they will help you. Now," he said loudly, changing the subject, "don't think about your job for a bit. While we still have time in our session, tell me about Alfred. You said you made a connection?"

Running his hand over his face, Ivan made a noise to the affirmative, "We… I suppose he might say we clicked or something. We just talked and had food, and it was nice. We uh," he cleared his throat before continuing quietly, "…we held hands for a bit, I think. That was nice, too."

"I'm sure." Francis said, and Ivan could hear the smile in his voice.

With pink cheeks, Ivan waved him off, "Anyway, we talked for a while, and then I took him home- or, to his apartment- and…" He scoffed at himself, "I feel like a teenager again, wow. He kissed my cheek then bolted- he left his bag in my car, even." He chuckled a little, "I think he was embarrassed."

"Or unsure of how you'd react," Francis added with a hum. "I'm going to tell you a secret, and this is something I'm allowed to tell you, actually." He lowered his voice and leaned forward, "Alfred, confident though he may seem, is actually quite insecure. But, then," He sat back in his chair again and shrugged, "Aren't we all, from time to time?"

Ivan looked up at the ceiling for a moment, "Hm." He closed his eyes, "Well, I don't think scaring me away is something he needs to worry about."

Francis was quiet for a moment, then he exhaled and took his glasses off, "…personally, I agree with you. I think, for whatever might happen in this relationship between the two of you, you might be better equipped to accept Alfred wholly than someone else would, even if that is only in the friendship capacity." He rubbed a hand over his eyes, "Alfred would disagree. He has trouble seeing his own worth, I'm afraid, though I tell him often."

Tilting his head, Francis sighed, "…I'm fairly certain that's something I'm allowed to say. Ah, well."

"That's," Ivan began, blinking at Francis before furrowing his brow in thought, "…very surprising."

With the closest thing to a facial shrug that Ivan had ever seen, Francis tapped a hand against his desk, "Well, now when he tells you why he sees me for himself, you might not be as surprised. Here's another secret, Ivan," He smirked and made an 'all-encompassing' gesture, "Everyone's got something wrong with them, big or small. It's the ones that tell others about it that have any hope of bettering themselves. Even then, they don't always go away, but- now this is my favorite part," He leaned his cheek against his hand, "sometimes people are better for the problems they have."

Ivan gave him an odd look, then hummed and looked forward again, as if digesting that information.

"…I see."

"I hope you do," Francis nodded and checked his watch, "And with that, we're out of time, mon ami. But, as always, feel free to call if you need me."

Ivan nodded and sat up closely, gathering himself up in a kind of daze as information rolled around in his mind. He shook his head, then straightened himself out and offered Francis a short smile, "Yes, I'll talk to you later, then. Have a good week, Francis."

Francis put his glasses back on and jotted a few notes in Ivan's file, "Same to you, Ivan. Do look after Alfred for me." He smiled, and Ivan flushed a little at the implication as he walked out of the office.

There was initial silence in Francis's office when Alfred first arrived, and it was quiet for a few minutes while Alfred lay down on the couch and tried to get comfortable. It wasn't awkward, as they'd long ago determined that Alfred could be silent for as long as he wanted during his session, he would never be forced to speak. He could go the entire session without saying a word, but there was a reason he was paying Francis, so he tended to not do that.

They'd had meetings start like this before, and Francis had noticed the look Alfred gave him immediately when he entered. So, he'd given him a 'whenever you're ready' gesture and sat back to peruse his file and make some notes.

After a short time in which Francis thought Alfred might have fallen asleep (which would have been good for him, judging by the dark circles under his eyes), the blonde exhaled heavily.

"…Okay," he began quietly, "So I need to go back on medication, I think."

Francis looked at Alfred from over his glasses, "A different one, yes?"

Alfred nodded, "Is there… I don't know, an anti-depressant or something you can put me on?"

With a shake of his head, Francis exhaled, "I don't think that is what would work the best with you, unfortunately." He flipped a page in the file and traced a paragraph with his pen, "I had you on a prescription that was a low-level antipsychotic and contained the more important ingredients in anti-depressants, but you said it dulled more than your hallucinations, so my guess is that the mood inhibitors were too strong in that particular pill."

Sighing, Alfred ran a hand through his hair, "So, what, we do something without anti-depressants, then?"

"If you want a medication that will get rid of the hallucinations, then yes." Francis scribbled a note, and then removed his glasses to look over at Alfred, "I'm going to suggest a higher dosage antipsychotic- this particular type doesn't have mood inhibitors, so some of your previous reactions shouldn't occur this time, however your eating habits and mood will be unaffected entirely, I think."

He pursed his lips, "…I think the mix of the anti-depressant and the antipsychotic is what caused the last relapse. Things like that do occur with some patients, so, if you feel comfortable with it, we can either begin trying the higher dose antipsychotic to help you with the voice, or we can put you on a different mood inhibitor in order to help you with your depression and diet. Just not both."

Meeting Francis's eyes warily, Alfred bit his lip and debated it, "…Which do you think is the worst?"

Francis sighed and leaned back, resting his hand against his hand, "I wouldn't say the worst, but I am more worried about the hallucinations at this point. I think they play off your depression and worsen it, and that, in turn, causes you to revert to unfavorable eating habits. It's a vicious cycle that I believe is rooted in the hallucinations."

He hummed, "At this point, have you had more than one experience where you hear more than one voice, or they speak over each other? Are they ever non-coherent?"

Alfred looked uncomfortable, and he shifted where he lay, "…I've- Yeah. Other than the other day, there have been a few times where… Where there's a bunch of them. Mostly at night." He took a breath, "…and yeah, sometimes they just make noise. It's happening more often recently."

Nodding, Francis took some notes and slipped his glasses back on, "I see. Now, I know it must be difficult to sleep since we got you off of the other medication, how have you been handling that?"

With a quiet wince, Alfred rolled his shoulder in a shrug, "…Not well." He sighed, "It's… Okay, most of the time this thing is kind of like having a music player on the lowest volume setting- where you can't make out all the words but you know it's there, and you can just hear the really faint trace of it." He tapped his head, "It's happening right now, where I can't make it out all the way but know it's there. So when I try to sleep… I know it's not healthy, especially with my diet, but… if I don't exercise until I pass out from exhaustion, then, well…" He bit his lip and inhaled, closing his eyes as Francis looked over at him. "Some nights, if the exercise isn't enough, I just won't sleep. I'll take caffeine pills or aspirin, or just overload on coffee and find a way to distract myself. It sucks, I hate it, and sometimes they get worse during those times, and I have to drown them out with music or something. Other times… other times I just need to black out and not deal with it anymore and the need is so strong that if nothing else works I'll drink until I fall asleep from it."

He put his hands over his face as he heard Francis write down more notes and he exhaled shakily, "You told me not to, and I'm sorry but I needed to get away from it and I couldn't think of anything else that might work other than banging my head against the wall."

Francis waved a hand, though Alfred couldn't see it, "There are worse things you could be doing. As soon as you start taking this new prescription, the hallucinations should begin to go away. Seeing as the symptoms are coming back so strongly in such a short amount of time after taking you off of them, I can only think that the antipsychotic was doing its job." He looked over to Alfred as the blonde peered through his fingers at him, "If you don't see any improvement within two weeks, you need to tell me, because that either means that the dosage in that is too weak as well, or that we need to try a different type of antipsychotic."

He hummed, "If they don't lessen, at the very least, within a month, then I'll suggest we take you off of the prescription. For now, though," He tore a piece of paper off of his prescription pad, "This is the prescription we'll try, and I think it should do you some good."

Alfred closed his eyes behind his hands and exhaled, giving a little nod and muttering, "…Okay. Thanks."

With a smile, Francis took his glasses off and closed Alfred's file, "Of course, Alfred. Now then, let's get on to a happier topic." He crossed his arms against the desk, "Tell me about the date you and Ivan had. I heard it went well."

Wiping his eyes, Alfred sniffled and gave Francis a look, "…He said that?"

"He did," Francis nodded, "For all that I'm allowed to tell you, he enjoyed it quite a bit."

Alfred blushed and fiddled with the buttons on his shirt, "Oh. That's good."

"Mhm, I agree. But how did you enjoy it?"

Shrugging a shoulder, Alfred curled up a little on the couch, "It was nice. We talked a lot, I learned a bunch of stuff about him- he told me why he sees you, actually."

Francis raised an eyebrow, "Did he now?"

Alfred nodded, "Yeah, and it was kinda huge. Well, or something. I don't know." He ran a hand through his hair, "Like, I felt really great because he trusted me enough to tell me that, but then I felt nervous cause I thought he might want me to tell him why I see you, and I've just got so many issues…" He exhaled, "And I am totally not ready to let him in on just what a mess I am, but you know what was great?"

When Francis made an inquisitive noise, Alfred looked at him and smiled a little, "He didn't ask me to tell him. I don't know if he just kind of got that I didn't want to talk about it or whatever, but he just kinda… he took my hand and didn't say anything and we were able to be quiet for a while and it was…" He sighed and closed his eyes, "It was really nice. No pressure or anything, just relaxing. Man, Francis, I can't remember the last time I could just be with someone and not worry about anything, you know?"

With a short nod, Francis let out a breath and traced a finger along his desk, "I know what you mean. I'm glad you can have that."

"Yeah," Alfred said dazedly, "You know, I kissed him when he dropped me off." He blushed, "Or, well, his cheek anyway. And god, I was so nervous for no reason, I freaking sprinted to my apartment and- oh man." He laughed and put his hands on his head, "I think I left my dance bag in his car geez way to go, me."

Francis chuckled, "You did, he still has it."

"Oh, well, that's good," Alfred ran his hands through his hair and mussed it up, "I'll text him about it later or something. Uh, yeah. As soon as I got in my apartment, that's when I called you." He frowned, then shook his head, "I hope that doesn't happen again."

"Me too," Francis agreed, "Dates are typically better when you don't have to worry about third party commentary."

Alfred nodded, and Francis checked his watch before giving a little gasp, "Oh, dear. It seems we've gone a bit over our time, actually. I'm afraid we'll have to cut it off for today."

Looking at Francis in surprise, Alfred sat up and checked his phone, "Oh, man, dang. Sorry about that."

Francis waved him off, "Don't worry about it, I just hope you won't be late to work." He held Alfred's prescription out to him, "Be sure to get these as soon as possible, okay?"

Alfred smiled a little at him and took the slip, "Yeah, I will. I think I'll have time before my shift, so." He headed toward the door and gave Francis a salute.

"See ya later, Francis."

"Not this time," Alfred grit out into the receiver of his phone as he waited for Francis to pick up.

He's going to leave. They always do.

You're always going to be alone.

When he finally got through, he spoke before Francis could get a word in, "Francis, what can I do to get it to shut up?"

Nothing.

You'll always be fucked up.

No one wants you-

everyone actually hates-

it's only a matter of time before you-

it's all going to come dow-

even he will leave you

There was a beat before Francis said, "Ah. Well first, I want you to take some deep breaths-"

"Francis I can't calm down right now, I was so happy and now this is happening and-"

"Alfred, please, just breathe," Francis said firmly, and, shaking, Alfred leaned his head back against his door and closed his eyes.

Weakweakweakweak

He took a slow breath and curled a hand in his hair, and he heard Francis do the same on the other line, "Good, Alfred, keep breathing, deep breaths."

Won't help

Nothingwillwe'restill

Nothingwillnothingwill

Alonealonenothingwillwe'restill

Allaloneweakhatesit'sonlyyou'regoingtoalonealonealonenothingwill

Alfred shook his head, "Not working, not- Francis, can't think…"

He heard a muffled curse, then the flutter of papers before Francis's voice came back over, clear and calm, "Alfred, try to hear me. If you still have any of your prescription, use it right now. Just take one dose, you need the antipsychotic. The antipsychotic, if you can hear me, the antipsychotic."

As he repeated them, Alfred caught the words he needed to catch, and he pushed himself away from the door and towards his bathroom with the phone pressed against his ear.

Nothingwillstillalonehatehehategoingsyoutosoleave

"Christ, there's…" He took a deep breath and to think straight, "More than one… shit, fuck can't think, Francis…" He held the phone between his ear and shoulder as he reached for the almost empty bottle of the prescription Francis had him on before, and Francis's steady voice slipped between the others in his head.

"Alfred, you cancan'tnevercouldwillnotdo this, it's alright. Take everythingyoucan'tnothingwillalonealonethe dose, then I want you to try and sleep, okay? Sleepforeverwillneveralonehateleavegonejust go to sleepnownevermorehatealoneallhegone after you take that, goleavehealonenothingever to sleep, alright?"

"Fuck," Alfred groaned, knocking back two of the pills dry and leaving the bottle on the edge of the sink. He walked back to his bedroom, phone in hand, and fell face down onto his bed, pulling a pillow over his head and mumbling to the phone, "Took 'em, still- how long?"

"Half anlifetimeforeverneversleepnothingcouldhour, at the maximum."

"Fuck," he said again, and decided to squeeze his eyes shut and try as hard as he could to block sound out, "Call again if can't sleep bye." He managed, then closed his phone and tried to breathe deeply. It was going to be a long night.