Chapter 11

"Francis! Francis!'

Arthur feels the body in his hands go limp, and Francis is can't see where Matthias, Lukas or Gilbert are, all he can think is that Arthur needs to get Francis out of there.

He grits his teeth and pulls Francis up and over his shoulder into an ironic fireman's lift, and stumbles down a corridor, begging nothing in particular for this to be the right way out. Arthur feels a little lightheaded, the smoke inescapable and heat
producing a sheen of sweat proving inefficient in cooling him down.

His eyes are streaming, so when he sees a white light shining towards him all of a sudden, he wonders for a moment if this is what death feels like. Is that the light at the end of the tunnel, or God, or-

A hand grabs his arm and Arthur jumps. People are shouting at him, pulling at him. He doesn't have the energy to resist and he stumbles after them, confused but relieved at the contact.

After being in the darkness of the smoke for so long, the bright burst of daylight attacking him once he steps out of the building is almost blinding. Arthur feels the soft, springy texture of grass under his feet and collapses to the ground in exhaustion.
Francis falls safely onto the ground in front of him, and Arthur spends several minutes simply crouching on the floor, coughing.

A face appears in his field of view.

"Sir? Sir? Are you okay?"

A firefighter presents an oxygen mask and Arthur takes it gratefully, holding it over his face and sighing with relief between gulps of breath. He looks around, seeing where he deposited Francis with two medics tending to him. Near another entrance half
way down the building, Arthur sees Matthias and Lukas in a pile on the floor. There are some paramedics trying to separate them from the Dane's protective hug; he still seems convinced Lukas is in some sort of danger. Lukas is unconscious and ragged-looking
but looks mostly okay apart from his broken ankle which is skewed at an odd angle. Matthias' hair is a little blackened and half of his jacket is burnt off but he too seems in a safe condition. A gagging noise brings Arthur's attention to Gilbert
being sick in some shrubs. He probably didn't do well in avoiding the smoke, and his eyes are wide, obviously still in shock at the experience.

Arthur lets himself feel some relief at seeing him friends made it out alive and relatively intact. But looking back to Francis, his stomach clenches in worry, thinking about the vast quantities of smoke his roommate had inhaled and the burns he saw form
on his skin. He panics, realising that people do die from these sort of things.

And all of it would be his fault.

He never should have phoned Francis, it has only caused the Frenchman trouble he never should have got into. They should have just jumped out of the window and they probably would have been fine. Because of Arthur's random desire to keep Francis informed
and be reassured by him, Francis has got himself hurt.

He calls out to to firefighter, "Will he be okay?" His voice comes out hoarse and sounds audibly distressed. One of the doctors tending to Francis turns to him.

"He'll live, kid. But he's had some severe smoke inhalation and a few pretty nasty burns, so he's going to have to be hospitalised for a while."

"And the same for you too, I'm sure." Another medic appears before Arthur and starts attending to him. "He may be a little worse but you've both just escaped a burning building."

He answers her questions and she makes sure he is stable enough, and he is then escorted to an ambulance along with Francis carried on a stretcher.

Arthur jumps as an extremely concerned looking Matthew rushes to him. He reaches to hold Arthur's shoulder but stops and whips his arm back, obviously remembering he doesn't want to hurt him.

"Arthur, oh my God, are you okay? I'm so sorry this happened but I'm so relieved you got out and you seem alright enough, I tried to call Alfred but I couldn't get through and I was really scared for you, I thought you're all going to die or something."

"Oh, Matthew it's so nice to see you. Try not to worry, I suppose. I'll be fine and I'm sure Francis," his voice cracks, "will be okay too."

Matthew looks down at the unconscious Francis and cringes at the state he's in. "Well done for getting him out, Art. He just ran in when he saw the building; he didn't even hesitate. I did try to stop him but I guess he was doing what he wanted."

Arthur keeps on looking to Francis, his beautiful face clenched and seared slightly in parts, and the hair he looks after so lovingly singed at the ends. Arthur's eyes water slightly at the sight, but he blinks away any potential tears. He shouldn't be
the one crying.

The ambulance starts up and they start the journey to the hospital. Matthew is instructed to stay behind but told he can visit later on. He says goodbye but his anxious expression doesn't change. Despite the situation, Arthur can't help but feel novelty
from the ride - seeing the inside of an ambulance properly for the first time in his life brings out the child in him slightly. He looks around the vehicle until his view is blocked by the same doctor who attended to him earlier. She makes sure he's
calm and begins some treatment on him.

Arthur doesn't even realise a patch of skin on his forehead is reddened and burnt until the doctor starts patching it up. He notices his feeling returning as the adrenaline wears off, and pain blossoms in several areas of his body that he had never even
realise were injured. He feels a vague throbbing in his hands that develops into a harsh stinging. He looks down and sees a multitude of wooden splinters and scattered glass shards piercing his palms and fingers.

He frowns at his hands. Arthur feels like he should be more repulsed but he just feels passive. The remainder of the ambulance journey passes uneventfully and it is only when Arthur loses sight of Francis being wheeled around a corner and into a separate
room that he is active again. He requests, or rather demands the hospital staff to take him back to Francis and he chews his already bloodied nail in worry. Anything could happen to Francis while he isn't there and there would be nothing he could
do about it; he wouldn't even know!

The nurses and doctor urge him into calmness but Arthur can't help but to be fidgety and impatient in his hospital room. The treatment they give him is just irritating, though he knows he should be thanking them really. His injuries aren't severe, but
they aren't mild either.

"Mr Kirkland, sir, I'm afraid we'll have to be keeping you here for tonight." One of the nurses politely informs Arthur. "You've inhaled a lot of smoke and your injuries have decent chances of infection. You should be able to visit your
friend tomorrow after you're discharged but for the moment you both must be treated separately."

Arthur sighs, but accidentally starts a coughing fit that leaves his throat singing and painful. He lays back in his hospital bed as the nurses leave, and tries to sleep. He tries to move his mind from worrying about Francis, but it only leads him to
fret about his other problems. He's going to be missing lectures and behind where he needs to be, especially with upcoming exams. His house keys are in his guitar case which is currently lying battered up under some window of the student's union,
god knows where Francis' are, and so he just hopes that Matthew has his pair. Alfred will probably be worrying out of his mind, knowing him, and depreciated that he couldn't be the one to play hero.

Arthur is kept wide away for a long while, until he eventually succumbs to his exhaustion.

~o0O0o~

Arthur squints his eyes open slightly, detecting the natural morning light even from his position with his face buried in the bed covers. He grunts and squeezes his eyes closed again, repelled by the brightness. He must have slept for a long time.

"Bro, is it normal to be frowning and groaning in his sleep? Is he gonna die?"

Arthur's eyes snap open this time. He can't even believe that obnoxious voice. He sits straight up and looks to the annoying American who had somehow found his way into his room.

"Alfred! What are you doi-" Arthur lets out a yelp, off-guard and feeling the pain from forgetting his injuries. He had sat up far too quickly.

"Arthur! What're you doing bro? Oh my god are you okay?"

"Ugh Alfred I'm fine. It's nothing major, just some stings and aches I had forgot about. More importantly, how did you-" he sees the occupied chair on the other side of the room, "-and Matthew find my room? Isn't this a little bit
of an invasion of privacy?"

"The receptionists literally just told us. This is a hospital, we're allowed. And that's not more important; we were really worried about you, bro."

"He's right, this could've been really serious, you know. You looked like death after you made it out of that building, not to mention Francis."

Francis. Oh yeah.

"Ah! Francis, is he okay? You must have seen him, right?"

"Don't worry Artie, he's alright. The smoke and flames messed him up a bit but he'll be fine once he heals up." Alfred reassures. "I think the doctors said he has to stay another night or two, but then he'll be all good to go home."

Arthur breathes out a quiet sigh of relief, but still feels a twinge of guilt.

He showers and gets himself dressed, already eager to get out of the bleak hospital room. He collects his few possessions and heads out with the twins who are waiting for him. They're eager to get Arthur home, but he absolutely insists on visiting Francis
beforehand. Alfred and Matthew are forced to almost jog behind Arthur, who is speeding down the corridor despite his minor injuries that have now be bandaged up.

They find the correct door, and knock briefly before walking in. The room holds no staff, and is peaceful, calm. Francis is lying in the bed, his eyes closed and sleeping silently, looking content. His hair is singed, dirty, messy, but is still the same
familiar buttercup blonde. Arthur walks straight over and sits down next to the bed.

"Francis…"

He is surprised as he actually opens his eyes in response to him, and Francis smiles upon seeking Arthur.

"Arthur. I am so glad you are okay."

His voice is weak and his accent is more noticeable. Arthur finds himself almost tearing up but pushes it away. Francis is so unlike his normal, perfect looks and charm, but it is still him. He is alive and okay and here with him. Arthur can't help but
to lean close to Francis to give a desperate but gentle embrace, needing to feel his the comforting warmth of his body.

"I'm sorry." Arthur whispers into his shoulder. Francis plants a kiss on his head, burying his face into Arthur damp hair.

He says something, something muffled. Three words. The first one was "I". The third one was "you". The second one may or may not have began with an L.


Hello, I'm back! I'm so so sorry I didn't upload last weeek. I'm back I'm school and a whooole bunch of work caught up with me last week especially, and so I physically didn't have time to upload and I was freaking out slightly about everything a tiny bit but it's perfectly fine now, I've got work under control mostly. But I'm still gonna have a load of work and controlled assessments and exams and stuff over this entire year so I really apologise for times I may be unable to upload. But don't worry, I'll never leave this fic without finishing it. Sorry for leaving you on a bit of a cliffhanger, I hope this chapter made up for it okay. (;▽;)ノ ╰(*´`*)╯