The light flicked on and Alfred instantly scrunched up his face against the pain in his still-closed eyes, mentally cursing at whoever thought it would be a good idea to do something so cruel. God, his head hurt. His mouth felt dry and sticky and there was a bitter taste stuck to the back of his throat, but there was a softer, more pleasant taste, as well. After a few moments, he recognized the taste for what it was and smiled in spite of everything else. He could still taste Arthur.

"Hey, you lazy American bastard, get out of bed. It's almost one."

Alfred recognized the voice as Lovino's and couldn't help but groan. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered, then froze; his eyes snapped open. Arthur was lying between him and the door. And the lights were on. And Arthur was naked.

Shit

Before another second could pass, he grabbed the blankets that were draped over his waist and yanked as hard as he could, pulling them up over his own torso as well as making sure that Arthur was covered from his neck down.

From his place in the doorway, Lovino rolled his eyes. "Just get up, bastardo." Turning, he yelled for someone to get his lazy brother off the couch and into the kitchen so they could have breakfast, and Al heard Antonio laugh from somewhere in the apartment. Next to appear in the doorway was Ludwig.

"Morning," the German muttered, looking rather embarrassed as he kept his eyes lowered, then he shut the door so Alfred and Arthur could get dressed in privacy.

Now able to relax, Alfred sat up and stretched, causing the blankets to fall back down to his waist. He felt a little stiff in addition to the headache and light sensitivity, but he knew all the symptoms of his hangover would be gone by the time he had to go to work. Still rolling his shoulders, he turned and looked down at the sleeping Angel beside him and a fond smile found its way onto his lips.

"Artie," he whispered, leaning close and placing a light kiss on the petite man's temple, "wake up."

Mumbled words escaped the Angel and he shifted but didn't wake. Alfred couldn't help but grin as an idea that he thought was absolutely genius occurred to him. Shifting even closer to the other man, he gently tilted Arthur's face upwards.

"Come one, my Angel, time to wake up," he cooed affectionately before pressing his lips against Arthur's in a soft good-morning-kiss as let his eyes fall closed. At first, the sleeping Angel didn't react at all, but after a few moments, Alfred felt pressure being returned against his own mouth and smiled as he continued kissing the smaller blond. Then suddenly the pressure was gone and he opened his eyes to find Arthur staring at him with wide green eyes.

"Alfred?"

"Yeah?"

Sitting up, Arthur scooted away from the American while making sure to keep the blankets over his lower half. "What are you doing?"

Worry settled in the pit of Alfred's stomach and he frowned slightly. "Uh…waking you up?"

"You kissed me."

Alfred paused, blinking. He didn't know what to do. Did Arthur not remember the things they'd said last night? The things they'd done? Pain struck his heart at the thought that the Angel had been too drunk and consequently had forgotten. If Arthur didn't remember kissing the way they had, and touching each other and the sounds they'd made…then…

"Alfred, why did you kiss me?"

Shit. If he had to ask that, then he definitely didn't remember any of last night's activities. Still, Alfred didn't want to accept it so easily.

"Do you, uh, remember anything about last night, Artie?"

The Angel frowned as he thought about it. "Your friends came over. Feliciano cooked dinner, and we played videogames and sang karaoke and danced, I think. And we were drinking."

"Anything else?" the American asked, unable to keep that hopeful tone out of his voice.

Several moments passed as Arthur attempted to remember something more. "No."

No.

It felt like his heart had shattered in his chest and now the sharp little pieces were digging into his insides. He couldn't breathe. He wanted to cry. He wanted to grab Arthur and kiss him, really kiss him, like he had last night, and not let go until the Angel remembered every single detail of what they'd done. But he couldn't move, and the longer he sat there, frozen, the more concerned Arthur became.

"Alfred, are you all right?" His brow furrowed, the Angel reached out to feel Alfred's forehead to see if he had a fever, then waved his hand in front of the staring blue eyes. "Alfred?"

"I'm…I'm fine, Artie." Finally, he managed to tear his gaze away and slowly turned to get out of bed. "I just have a hangover. I'll be back to normal in a few hours."

"Are you sure?"

He got up and went to the closet and began dressing, not paying even the slightest attention to what he was putting on. "Yeah."

Damn it, why? Why did it have to happen like this? He'd finally found someone he could be happy with, someone he loved and cared for more than he'd ever cared for anyone, something he hadn't thought he would ever be able to do. After Ivan, after the abuse that forced him to literally run away from home, the thought of falling in love with someone else had seemed like an impossible dream. And then he'd found Arthur in that alleyway, and they'd become friends, and the Angel was so sweet and kind and smart and funny and even a little bit sassy that Alfred couldn't help but fall in love with him. Even though he knew the petite man probably wouldn't be around much longer. His wing healed more and more every day—it hardly seemed to bother Arthur at all anymore—and Alfred knew that once he was better, he'd have to leave and go back to heaven. But that hadn't stopped him from loving the Brit.

In spite of everything, he loved him, and last night he'd finally been able to admit it without hesitating, without worrying that the Angel would reject him. And Arthur had said it back. The Angel actually loved him, and even though they hadn't had sex, it was still the best night of Alfred's life. Being with Arthur was, for lack of a better word, perfect. It was better than perfect, and he couldn't imagine ever being with anyone else. But the Angel didn't remember any of it, and Alfred had never felt so completely heartbroken. And worse, there wasn't much he could do about it.

"Alfred." A soft hand touched his own and the American looked up to find Arthur watching him with concern. "Are you sure you're all right?"

Unable to form words for fear that his voice would crack, Alfred simply nodded and lowered his gaze once more.

"You've been standing there for five minutes, Alfred. Come on, let's go have breakfast with your friends," the Angel urged gently, tugging on Alfred's hand to lead him out of the bedroom and to the kitchen.

Lovino, Antonio, Ludwig and Feliciano were already sitting around the table, talking quietly as they ate the pancakes someone had decided to make for breakfast. Alfred allowed himself to be guided into one of the two remaining chairs, though he didn't move to claim any of the pancakes for himself, and he didn't touch the mug of coffee that had been prepared for him. In his place next to Alfred and once more dressed in over-sized jeans and his favorite of the American's hoodies, Arthur watched the bespectacled man out of the corner of his eye as he served himself a portion of the food, though he opted not to partake of the coffee.

"Alfred, are you feeling well, mi amigo?" Obviously worried about the blond man's unusually quiet behavior, Antonio put down his fork and leaned forward slightly in an attempt to get a better look at Alfred's face.

"Fine," the blue-eyed man mumbled without looking up, "just not hungry."

"Eh? There's definitely something wrong with him. He's always hungry," Lovino interjected, earning a split-second glare from Antonio.

"Ve…are you sick, Alfred?" Feliciano spoke up for the first time since the American and Angel had joined them. "Did you drink too much last night?"

Seizing the excuse that had been presented to him, Alfred nodded and slowly reached for his coffee. "Yeah. I'll be fine." He took a long drink of the hot liquid to avoid having to answer any more questions and was relieved when his friends accepted that explanation for how quiet he was being. It wasn't like he could outright tell them that he was depressed because the Angel he was in love with didn't remember the almost-sex they'd had the night before whilst his friends were probably having sex in the next room.

Oh, god. The realization just about made him choke on his coffee and he set the mug down as casually as he could before taking a couple of pancakes and forcing himself to eat. As he chewed, he stole glances at the other males at the table.

Even though they were sitting next to each other, Lovino and Antonio weren't touching. For Lovino, that was normal, but Antonio rarely managed to keep his hands off the Italian if they were within arm's reach of each other. The fact that he was holding back his usual affections meant that Lovino was in a particularly sour mood. Having sex in Alfred's living room while drunk the night before was probably the safest assumption as to why.

As for Feliciano and Ludwig, the German's eyes were glued to his plate as if he were too embarrassed to look anyone in the face, something that only happened after he'd done something that he considered foolish and shameful. Like getting drunk and screwing his boyfriend on the couch. Sitting beside Ludwig, Feliciano was smiling and seemed to be his usual cheerful self. However, he kept shifting in his chair as if he was uncomfortable, which probably meant that Ludwig had been rougher than normal and left a bruise or two. No wonder the tall blond looked so embarrassed.

Oh, that's fucking gold. All my friends get their brains fucked out in my living room, less than ten feet away from each other, even, and I'm in the next room with a sexy little Angel and I don't even get laid. And let's add the cherry on top that Arthur doesn't remember any of it, so I can't kiss him or hold his hand or anything. Nothing about this is fair! Nothing!

Frowning as his irritation at how things were turning out grew, Alfred stabbed his fork into the pancakes with more force than was necessary. This whole thing was pure bull shit. He just wanted to find someone he could actually love and be with, no worrying about being rejected, no having to hide an Angel's wings from his friends or worry that one day that Angel would tell him he had to leave and would never see him again. Still, he'd be willing to put up with hiding the wings if he could just keep Arthur.

It wasn't fair, and he hated that he couldn't do anything about it. Even if he waited for his friends to leave then tried to tell Arthur what they'd done last night, he didn't know if it would help anything. What if Arthur got mad? He could be embarrassed—it wasn't as if the Angel was exactly open with his feelings all the time—and while he was okay with cuddling a bit, and didn't seem to mind kisses on his forehead, what had happened last night was definitely beyond his comfort level. No, telling him probably wasn't the best idea. Maybe, if Al was patient, the green-eyed Angel would remember on his own.

Alfred hated the waiting game, but he was willing to put up with it for Arthur's sake.

X

This was going to kill him.

He was an awful person. He didn't deserve to be an Angel. He could feel how much pain Alfred was in and he could so easily make all that pain go away. Yet he sat there and ate his pancakes as if he hadn't a care in the world. All he wanted to do was grab the American and kiss him and tell him that he remembered everything and he was sorry for acting like he didn't but he didn't know what else to do because he shouldn't have done any of that but that didn't mean he didn't love him.

And then you do what, exactly, Arthur? Kiss him every day and tell him how much you love him, do what you did last night as many times as you want even though it'll never be enough? What happens when it's time to leave? It'll just hurt more, Arthur. You can't do that to him.

It was breaking his heart in half just to be this near to Alfred and feel the taller man's emotions coming off him in waves. Hurt, definite sorrow and loss and even a little bit of anger. The American was angry that Arthur supposedly didn't remember what had happened last night. That was the worst part, and he knew how much angrier it would make the blue-eyed man if Arthur admitted that he'd only been pretending. What else could he do, though? He had to leave in less than two weeks. It was easier this way.

"So, how long are you staying?" He turned green eyes on the Spaniard sitting on his left, asking just to ask because no one had been talking and if he didn't find something to focus on besides Alfred's emotions then he would go insane.

"Just long enough to clean up from breakfast." Antonio offered a friendly smile before taking another bite of his pancakes. "We don't usually drink as much as we did last night, so we all need to go home and recover a little before work tonight."

Arthur returned the smile as best he could even though he couldn't help but think that he was the reason the others had been drinking so much. At least he wasn't going to have to be alone with Alfred for as long if the others planned on staying for a little while. Thinking that way sent a tendril of guilt wrapping around his brain. He shouldn't be reluctant to spend time with the American just because he couldn't admit to remembering.

"It's kind of you to help." Standing, he took his now-empty plate to the sink and rinsed the syrup and crumbs off it before placing it in the automatic dishwasher, all too aware that his back was now to Alfred's friends and that there was a chance they'd seen his wings the night before.

You really wanted to cause yourself trouble, didn't you.

After drying his hands on a towel, he moved over to the cupboard by the fridge and retrieved one of the boxes of tea that Alfred had bought for him before finding a clean mug and filling it with hot water to steep the teabag in. Rather than return to the table and put himself back in range to sense Alfred, he leaned back against the counter and quietly watched the other men as they finished eating, sipping his tea now and then. By the time his pancakes were gone, Alfred seemed to have cheered up considerably and was even smiling a little, though Arthur suspected that the American was faking it to avoid any more questions from his friends.

Wordlessly, Antonio and Ludwig gathered the dirty plates, took them to the sink and began to rinse them for the dishwasher as Lovino and Feliciano put away the leftovers. It was clearly the same pattern they followed every time they had breakfast together, and as soon as the plates, silverware and cups had been taken care of, the two Italians brought the larger dishes over to the sink. Antonio had already prepared hot, soapy water and began to wash the dishes, handing each one to Ludwig as they were rinsed off, then the German dried them with a towel he'd found in the drawer before putting each item away in its proper place. Lovino and Feliciano worked together to wipe off the counters and table before retreating to the living room to pick up the mess from last night as their companions finished in the kitchen.

Still sipping his tea, Arthur watched them work with a small amount of admiration. In no time at all, it seemed, the apartment was back in order and the four men were getting ready to leave.

"I'll see you guys at work tonight," Alfred said almost cheerfully as he held the door open for his friends.

They moved past him one by one, waving and calling their own good-byes before the wind could carry their voices off. It was snowing again and didn't look like it was going to stop anytime soon—the wind was so strong that Arthur had to help Alfred push the door shut again once Antonio, Lovino, Feliciano and Ludwig had made their way outside. Immediately, Alfred flopped down onto the couch and picked up the remote to the TV.

"I'm going to shower," Arthur announced quietly, and waited for the bespectacled man to nod before went into the bathroom and locked the door behind himself. Slowly, he stripped, dropping his discarded clothes into a pile, then turned on the shower. He set the water to an even hotter temperature than normal, shivering a little as it heated up and steam filled the room. It reminded him of the time he'd written on the mirror.

An urge gripped him and he couldn't help it. Silently, the Angel went to the counter and reached up, his finger tracing out just two words.

I'm sorry.

The condensation was cool under his fingertip, and as he stepped back to look at what he'd written, he felt tears beginning to form. Before any of them could fall, he stepped into the shower and shut the door, letting the uncomfortably hot water pour down on him. It burned his skin, turning the pale flesh an agitated red color, but he didn't care. He liked that it hurt a little.

"Alfred," he whispered, letting his eyes fall shut as he tilted his head back so the water soaked his hair and dripped down his face, "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." Cold on his cheeks alerted him to the fact that he'd started to cry, but he didn't care about that, either. This was something that he wanted to hurt over, wanted to cry over.

"I'm not brave enough, Alfred. I want to be with you, to stay here and live with you and be your lover, but I can't." Each word was quieter than the last as he struggled not to start sobbing. "If we make love, and you're not the one, I…I'd lose my wings…and I'd lose y-you…and I c-can't do that."

The tears fell faster now, mixing with the heat of the shower water that he was already starting to go numb to. He could feel his wings quivering and wrapped them around himself in seek of comfort, nuzzling against the soft feathers as a shuddering sigh escaped him.

It was terrifying, this business of being in love. Even though he knew Alfred returned his feelings, it was terrifying. Because Angels weren't supposed to fall in love with humans. Oh, it happened, but most Angels ignored the feelings until the human they'd fallen for died, and then they moved on. But the Angels that gave in, the ones that formed relationships with their humans and eventually had sex with them…they weren't Angels anymore after that, but they didn't get to stay with their humans, either. As much as Arthur loved Alfred and wanted to be with him, he was too afraid of what might happen to him afterwards.

"Coward," he accused himself, reaching out to brace a hand against the cold shower wall. "Tell him. Tell him why you can't love him. Just do it. He'll understand." But telling a human about Angels, divulging secrets about them, might cost him his wings, as well. Breaking the rules had consequences.

At this point, Arthur wasn't sure if those consequences would be worse than the pain he felt at lying to Alfred. The tall human had done so much for him and now Arthur was lying to him, hurting him. He'd never felt so guilty, never hated himself as much as he did then. That was why he'd made the water so hot, why he couldn't help the tears that overflowed onto his cheeks. Because he, an Angel, had fallen in love with a human and had gotten so very close to giving in that he almost expected to lose his wings even though they hadn't had sex.

Without bothering to catch himself or be careful, Arthur dropped to his knees and buried his face in his hands as he began to sob and rock back and forth. He couldn't do this. Not for two weeks. He couldn't lie to Alfred for all that time just to leave him. But he didn't have a choice, and he hated that the most.

His wings hanging limp as the water poured down on him, Arthur struggled to choke out the words he so desperately needed to say, even if the man they were meant for couldn't hear them. "I-I'm sorry, Alf-fred. I'm s-sorry. I'm s-s-sorry for e-everything."

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Well. Yeah. So, you're all allowed to be mad at me for having Arthur pretend that he forgot, but if you just have a little patience (or a lot of patience because I mean really it's me) then I promise you it will explain why he lies about it later in the story. Poor, poor Alfred. Give him hugs, guys. He needs them and he's going to need a lot of them before this story is over. There's still a ton of stuff that has to happen. Oh, before I go, I'd like to say how sorry I am for making you wait an extra couple of days for this chapter. I was sick for the last few days and that means I was absolutely useless when it came to writing. I give you my word that next week's chapter will be on time. Thanks for reading!