"You can't think like that, you know." Arthur says after a beat of silence. "You can't stumble through life never thinking you're good enough, because you are and just because you don't see it doesn't mean that other people don't, alright?"

"I appreciate the sentiment, but I don't think it really works that way." Vash sighs, running his fingers through the shorter hair at the back of his neck. "I thought you were supposed to love yourself before you loved others, but that hasn't worked out so well, has it?"

Arthur's formulating a response when the older of the two Constantinou brothers, Demitri, comes meandering into the hall to announce that he and his brother are leaving, and that they'll see him at work tomorrow. Arthur nods, and Garcia appears from the sitting room and stalks past his brother to the front door.

"They're a strange pair. Interesting to work with, but strange." Arthur muses before he turns back to the smaller man beside him. Vash is staring blankly and almost desperately into the room where Roderich is, as if looking longingly will make even an inch of difference. Arthur rolls his eyes at the small blonde next to him when he realizes he's not paying attention to him at all, and elbows him in his tiny ribs.

"What?" Vash suddenly snaps back to attention, turning to the Englishman with wide eyes. "Did I miss something?"

"Oh, never mind." Arthur rolls his eyes. "I was just talking about Demitri, but you probably have no idea who he is, so I see no point in repeating myself."

"I know of him, but I don't think I've ever actually met him." Vash replies thoughtfully, frowning at the wall opposite them. "Doesn't he work with you at the museum?"

"Yes –although I'm inclined to think he got that job purely on the basis that he's Heracles' cousin– but that's not the point, really." Arthur deadpans, drinking the last of his beer and setting the glass on the stair below. "If you love him like you say you do, then why don't you just say something?"

"What part of 'he's engaged to a pretty girl' didn't you understand? She liked him, he liked her, he asked her out. That's how it works. Early bird catches the worm or whatever that stupid saying is." Vash grumbles absently, twisting a long strand of his hair around his fingers.

"Oh, piss off, would you? You've probably been interested in him for longer than they've even known each other, going on what you're saying. If anyone was the proverbial 'early bird' in this situation, it's you. Bloody hell."

"It doesn't make a difference either way, though, does it? I don't see how it matters." Vash sighs, leaning back against the stair. "He'd never leave her for me if I said something, whether he felt the same or not. It's not in his nature to do something like that; I'd have thought you knew that by now."

"Hasn't it stopped being about him yet? Surely, if it's hurting you as much as it is, then it should be more about making you feel better. I'd have thought that was basic self-preservation."

"It will never stop being about him!" Vash snaps, turning to him quickly, his hair whipping around his face as he narrows his eyes at the older man. "You don't get it, do you? You've always been lucky enough to be interested in people who are interested back! It's always been him and he's always had someone else; whether it was Antonio when we were still kids, Gilbert when we were just leaving for college and Elizabeta now. And even if he didn't have someone, then what's to say he'd actually be interested in me? I'm just his nerdy best friend who talks in French when he gets mad and is still a good three inches shorter than everyone, and who doesn't really have all that many friends and-"

"Oi, shove off, would you?" Arthur reprimands him, hitting him around the shoulder with a flat hand. Vash frowns at him. "You're worth more than that. There is someone out there for you, you know."

"Oh god, not the soul mates thing again. Not you, too; I thought you were supposed to be smart!"

"I am smart, you shit. They don't let just anyone do Masters Degrees, you know. There's just a lot of folklore and old myths about soul mates that's compelling enough to instil at least some interest in me."

"Please stop talking."

"Heracles probably knows more about it than me, since he specialized in Ancient Greece and kind of is Greek, but there's a myth that was told by Aristophanes that explained that in the past, there were three genders; male, female and androgynous, and that each person was twice what they are now –they had four hands, four legs and two heads. These people were supposedly powerful enough to threaten the gods' power, but the gods wouldn't destroy them because they'd be forfeiting the sacrifices people made to them. So instead, they cut each person into two people –each with a head, two hands and two legs, and because people long for their original nature, they keep trying to find their so-called 'other half' to reunite with it." Arthur rambles on and on, and Vash sighs and rolls his eyes, leaning to a side to rest his head against the rails on the stairs.

"Don't you think it's fascinating?" Arthur turns to him with an almost dreamy look in his eyes, and notices the blank look on the Swiss man's face and sighs. "God, I have no idea why I bother with you sometimes. You can be such a tosser."

"What?"

"Oh, never mind!" Arthur groans, pressing his hand over his face. "Look, if you want advice on what to do with Roderich, I'm probably not the best person to talk to. I mean, yeah, I could have a bash at it but I'm hardly the font of all relationship knowledge. You'd be better off talking to Antonio and Francis."

"I've spoken to both of them, but Francis is a bit too busy with the whole 'crying and sleeping and eating excessive amounts of ice cream' cycle between working that he barely has time for himself, let alone to talk to me. And Antonio, well... You know what he's like. I'm not sure he gets it either."

"It might be worth it anyway. His relationship with Lovino seems like one massive disaster, to be frank. He could probably use the conversation."

"I suppose. I'll go and try and talk to him now, I think." Vash stands up and straightens his jeans down his legs and rearranges the hem of his shirt until it sits level. "Thanks –you know, for this. I don't actually hate you, really."

"Well, that's good to know." Arthur laughs, relaxing back against the stairs. "Wait, hang on –is Francis really that bad? Honestly."

"Yes, honestly. I'm not just out to make you feel like shit, Arthur. Even I'm not that much of a prick. I got home after work and after seeing Roderich, and I couldn't find him, so I panicked. I thought he might've-" Vash cuts himself off and makes a strange, almost choking noise in his throat. "Well, I was half expecting the worst. I didn't know if he'd even be breathing or-"

He stops again, voice wetter than before as it catches in his throat.

"Really?" Arthur pulls himself to his feet and moves across to where Vash is standing in the middle of the hallway carpet. The shorter blonde hesitates for a second, reaches up to rearrange the beret on his head –Arthur thinks about that time Francis had made him wear one when they'd gone to France so his parents could meet him for the first time– before he nods quickly.

"Yeah." Vash reaffirms after a few moments with another small nod. "I wish I could say I was joking, or say that he's fine, but he's not. I know he's an overdramatic person anyway, but he's worse than I've ever seen him, whether all of its completely genuine or not. I'm worried about him."

"Would you-" Arthur starts, before he shakes his head and starts over. "Could you tell him I said hello? And that I hope he's okay."

"I don't think that's a good idea." Vash admits quietly, shaking his head slightly. "If you want to talk to him, go and do it yourself. If I say it, he'll think I'm just telling him what he wants to hear."

"Are you sure? I mean, that hardly sounds like a good idea."

"Trust me, for once. Alright?" Vash replies, digging in the pocket of his jeans for something. He produces his keys after a few minutes and detaches one to give to Arthur. "That's the apartment key. Bring me it back, I do need it to get home."

"Are you sure? I mean-"

"Yes, I'm sure. I know he won't let you in, so you'll need something to get in with, and it'll stop you from trying to break down our door."

"Right. Er, should I tell Alfred?"

"That you're going to see your ex-boyfriend who's definitely still in love with you? Yeah, like that's going to end well. Lie; tell him you're going to get more wine or something."

"I'm not sure I should lie to him like that."

"So you'd rather risk getting into an argument with him in front of everyone?"

"Fair enough, I suppose you're right." Arthur agrees, deflating slightly. "I'll go tell him."

He moves into the sitting room, where Alfred is sprawled over the sofa with a beer in his hand, engaged in a happy conversation about geography with Feliciano. Ludwig is sitting on the opposite sofa, surveying the huge bookcase beside him. Vash follows behind Arthur, taking a seat next to Ludwig and quickly engaging the German in a conversation about European literature. Arthur has to hold back a laugh.

"Hey, Alfie, I'm just going to go to the shop and get more drinks, yeah? I shouldn't be too long."

"Oh, okay." Alfred smiles up at him, blue eyes bright behind his glasses. "I'll see you soon, then?"

"Yeah." Arthur straightens himself up to leave, and Alfred pouts at him. "What?"

"Don't I get a goodbye kiss?"

Arthur sighs affectionately, bends back down to press a soft kiss to his lips, and Alfred grins.

"Be safe, okay?"

"Okay." Arthur turns to leave, but looks at Vash before he does and the younger man gives him a pointed look. Arthur nods sharply and leaves the room.

He fumbles his way through the cold and the wind across the three or four blocks to the apartment block where Francis and Vash live. He considers cursing the horrible weather, but then remembers hang on a second, I'm English, I've lived through summers that were colder than this and tugs his jacket closer over his chest.

He knocks first, when he reaches the apartment door with 137: Bonnefoy / Zwingli written on the mailbox next it and frowns when no one answers him. He waits for a moment before he digs through his jacket pocket for the key. He unlocks the door and steps into their foyer, and if he didn't know who lived there already he'd be able to tell now. There's a dresser covered in framed photographs, of everything from a smiling blonde couple he assumes must be Vash's parents, to a bigger photograph of the two of them playing together in the snow when they were children, and even one of Lilli and Marianne together. He smiles weakly and steps towards the dresser when he spots the two photographs in a hinged frame. The first is of him and Francis outside Sacré-Cœur Basilica in Montmartre –Francis had made him go on one of their trips to Paris, and it had been snowing all day and the only good thing about it was Francis holding his hand as they walked up all the stairs to the top– and the other is of the both of them at the top of the Eiffel Tower. Arthur remembers that he hadn't really wanted to go, but Francis had insisted, and dragged him to the top anyway. He'd stopped him, grabbed him by the waist and pulled out his camera –Arthur had thought he was going to photograph the view, but he turned the camera on both of them and kissed him on the cheek as he took the photo. Arthur blushes and sighs at the memory, turning and spotting the flags on the wall to his left.

There's a few, overlapping each other and corners falling limply away from the wallpaper, but Arthur mainly notices the red and white cross of the Swiss flag hanging beside the horizontal stripes of the Austrian flag. He holds back a smile, because only Vash would attempt to show affection by hanging their flags together. The French tricolour hangs proudly beside the Union Jack, though, and Arthur wonders absently if Francis put it there for a reason. There are a few other flags that he doesn't really recognize, too, as if they're chronicling something with them, and Arthur's mouth quirks into a lazy smile.

"Vash, are you home already?" Francis shouts, accent thick –probably due to drinking a little too much, Arthur thinks.

The Frenchman stumbles around the corner into the hallway and is clearly confused to see Arthur there, blue eyes wide and fingers almost slipping from the stem of the wine glass he's holding.

"Arthur." Francis says curtly after they've stared at each other for a long few minutes. "What are you doing here?"

"Er, Vash gave me a key to get in. He said you weren't feeling too great."

"Did he?" Francis doesn't look even remotely shocked at this development, frowning at the wine glass in his hand before he turns back to the other man. "I can't imagine where he would have got that idea from."

"Francis," Arthur sighs, his shoulders dropping as their eyes lock, "don't be like this."

"Don't be like what?" Francis snaps, his eyes turning harsh. "Don't be myself, is that what you're saying? Don't act like seeing you hurts? What happened, did Alfred lose interest already?"

"Francis." Arthur stays sternly, squaring his shoulders and glowering at the other man; Francis leans against the doorframe and fixes him with a withering look. "Please, don't."

"Please don't what?" Francis spits, blue eyes narrowing as he leans forward slightly. "I'm not letting you do this to me. You have no right to be here."

"I'm not doing anything to you! I just wanted to see if you were okay."

"If you were that bothered about 'seeing if I was okay' then you wouldn't be parading your new boyfriend around in front of me, would you?" Francis is suddenly shouting, body straightening up as he steps towards the younger man. "You're not going to get a rise from me, Arthur. It's not even worth trying!"

"Francis, please."

"Don't you dare 'Francis, please' me, you bastard! Isn't it obvious that I am in no way over you? I'm not ready to speak to you and not want to punch you in the face!"

"Francis-"

"Shut up!" Francis snaps, staring at Arthur desperately with wet eyes and shaking hands. "I'd like you to leave."

"I'm not leaving you alone like this." Arthur replies defiantly, folding his arms over his chest.

"Get out!" Francis is crying now, tears finally falling down flushed cheeks as he bustles towards Arthur and pushes him out of the door. "Get out of my home and get out of my life!"

He finally gets both of Arthur's feet into the hallway and slams the door in his face. He's turned the key in the lock before Arthur can even reach for the handle.

Francis exhales heavily, leaning against the door and pinching his nose like it will help calm him down. He slumps, sliding down the door a little as he closes his eyes.

Arthur has just turned away from the door when he hears Francis finally start to sob.

The Constantinou brothers are: Demitri = Cyprus & Garcia = TRNC.
& also Marianne = Monaco.

The Aristophanes myth Arthur talks about is an actual thing -I don't know how well-known it is, though.