Tired but happy to be home, Alfred quietly jingled his keys as he entered his apartment, the door shutting with a click. It hadn't been a bad or long shift—Lovino was still uncharacteristically happy due to his engagement to Antonio—but it was always nice to come home in the mornings and know that he had only a hot shower and cuddling with Arthur while he slept to take up the next eight-ish hours.

There was no sound coming from the bedroom, though that was normal. The Angel was probably asleep, or he was reading if he'd decided to wait up, neither of which was a noisy activity. Either way, he didn't want to disturb the petite blond, so he made sure to be quiet about putting away his work belt and coat in the closet and kicking off his boots. For once, he forwent grabbing clean clothes and headed straight for the bathroom. A hot shower left the mirror fogged over—there was no message, which was slightly disappointing but not surprising. They'd bathed together the day before, after all.

Moisture still clung to his hair and skin as Alfred left the bathroom with a towel around his waist. He tossed his dirty clothes towards the washing machine, noticing that a load had been run through and was ready to be switched to the dryer; he took a moment to do that before quietly entering the bedroom to get dressed.

At first, nothing seemed amiss. The bed was made though slightly rumpled. There was nothing lying on the floor or set out in an unusual place. Just like the rest of his apartment, Alfred's bedroom appeared to be in near-perfect condition. It wasn't until he'd finished drying off and was halfway through the process of pulling on his pajama pants that the blond American froze.

What.

Spinning around, Alfred stared at the empty bed, blue eyes wide.

"Arthur?"

There was no response and Alfred felt a tendril of panic worm its way between his ribs and wrap around his heart. Arthur wasn't in their bed.

"Arthur!"

Silence.

"Hey, this isn't funny!" he called, hoping desperately that the Angel was just hiding somewhere to play a trick on him. "Arthur!"

More silence greeted him, deafening and painful because if Arthur wasn't responding then that meant he couldn't hear Alfred calling for him and if he couldn't hear Alfred calling for him then that meant he wasn't in the apartment. Why the hell wasn't Arthur in the apartment?

"Shit—what if something happened to him while I was gone?"

All of his original fears about leaving the Angel alone in his apartment over night came flooding back. Someone could have broken in, could have found Arthur asleep in the bedroom and kidnapped him on the basis of his wings. They could take him to the police, turn him in as a genuine Angel or sell him to whoever wanted to own an Angel the most.

He could be tied up in some psycho's basement or locked in a car trunk or in a holding cell in some police station somewhere. Or, fuck! What if they call in scientists and they want to dissect him?! What if they torture him to figure out where he came from and how he became an Angel and if there are more Angels and why he's on earth and then he tells them about me?

Unbidden, images of Arthur, bound and gagged and terrified, appeared in Alfred's mind and he pressed his palms into his eyes until purple swirls appeared against the blackness of his eyelids. This was not okay. His Angel was missing and it was the complete opposite of okay.

The panic that had settled around his heart squeezed and Alfred ran out of the bedroom to turn on all the lights in the apartment. Blue eyes searched for any clues or signs of a break in or struggle. There was nothing. As he'd originally thought, the apartment was as close to pristine as it could get. It was even cleaner than when he'd left for work, which meant that Arthur had taken care of the few dishes from dinner some of the laundry before…vanishing.

"Did…he just…leave?" He barely managed to say it, to force those words out of his mouth because every fiber of his being railed against the thought, refused to accept the possibility.

No. No, no, no. That couldn't be it. It wasn't. Arthur wouldn't just leave without telling him goodbye. Would he? No, of course not. They'd just spent all of yesterday cuddling and sharing food off the same plate and, fuck, they'd gotten each other off in the bathtub! If Arthur had planned on leaving then he would have said something. He would have waited for Alfred to come home so he could at least say goodbye. Alfred had always known that Arthur would leave eventually. They had both known it and had talked about it more than once. But while he was gone? With no warning or note or anything?

"He left me."

Alfred couldn't believe it. He didn't want to. It felt like his stomach had dropped out, like all his organs had disappeared and there was a gaping hole in his torso where his heart and lungs were supposed to be. Was he breathing? He couldn't tell, and he didn't care. The pain in his chest betrayed that, even though he was pretty sure his heart was gone, it was still somehow beating.

Why would he just leave like that? Why not wait for me? I…I didn't get to tell him I love him or even say goodbye. He seemed perfectly fine yesterday. Did he plan it like this? Did he not want me to know when he was gonna leave?

His throat tightened as tears began to form under his eyes; angrily, he wiped at them with the back of his hand. He was not going to cry. This shouldn't have been a surprise at all. Of course Arthur had gone back to heaven. He was an Angel and he belonged in heaven with other Angels. Alfred had no right to be upset that the petite man was gone.

But I love him. I don't want to be without him.

Shit. The tears had escaped and spilled over onto his cheeks, and this time he did nothing to stop them. He was crying and his heart hurt because Arthur was gone and he was never going to see him again.

"No," Alfred whispered, arms hanging limp at his sides. His eyes fell closed as more tears formed and fell—it barely registered that this was the first time he'd cried in he didn't know how long. Since before he'd left Ivan, probably. Crying wasn't something he'd missed in the slightest, yet he couldn't help it now. "Arthur…"

What was he supposed to do? He'd just finally found happiness again, and Lovino was engaged to Antonio, and Ivan was getting better. Life was starting to look up for the first time in years. But now Arthur was gone and Alfred didn't know what to do about it. He was alone in this shitty little apartment. Again.

"Do I just go back to the way I was? Am I supposed to act like he never existed?" His voice cracked slightly as he spoke.

There was no answer to his questions and Alfred let out a heavy sigh. Wiping the tears from his face once more, he forced himself to turn off the lights again and go back into the bedroom. Blue eyes on the carpet, he dropped onto the edge of the bed and tried desperately to make sense of the lonely world he'd so suddenly become part of. Yeah, he could go back to the way he'd been. Sleeping and eating and spending his days alone.

God, that sounded pathetic and just thinking about how lonely he'd been before Arthur made him want to start crying all over again. He managed to hold back this time, however, by lying back on the bed and putting his hands over his face. A low groan escaped him.

"Pathetic, Al. Your Angel lover goes back to heaven and you fucking lose it. Crying in the middle of your living room. Geez."

The words were meant to snap him out of whatever this was. Unfortunately, it didn't work and he sighed before shoving the blankets down and actually getting in bed. To hell with it. He was tired and upset and he all he wanted was to go to sleep so that he could deal with this in the morning. But as he lay there with only the sound of his own breathing to listen to, he realized the bed felt larger than it had before, and it was cold, and he couldn't figure out what to do with his arms.

"Damn it," the American growled, shoving his face into his pillow with his arms folded under his body. He had turned onto his stomach and pulled the blankets tight around in him an attempt to warm himself up, though it wasn't doing him any good. This wasn't working.

"I can't even fall asleep without him." Admitting it only served to irritate him further and Alfred swore multiple times before twisting onto his back and staring at the ceiling. It was useless. As tired as he was, he couldn't get comfortable. His arms were aching, he wanted to hold the Angel so badly.

Slowly, his irritation faded. He couldn't be angry at himself for missing Arthur already, and he couldn't be angry at Arthur for leaving. He was just…sad.

With a sigh, Alfred turned onto his side and grabbed his spare pillow, pulling it to his chest and wrapping his arms around it. A deep breath revealed that it actually smelled liked Arthur because it was the pillow the Angel had been using for the last several weeks. The faint scent of tea and rain was soothing and he finally, finally managed to close his eyes and relax. It wasn't Arthur, not even close, but at least he might manage to get some sleep.

"I love you, Artie," the American mumbled into the pillow, hoping that, in heaven or wherever he was, that Arthur was thinking about him and missing him just as much as he missed the Angel.

"Arthur, wait!" Desperate, Alfred chased after the distant figure that he just knew was the Angel he missed so much. No matter how fast he ran, the winged man stayed just out of his reach. "Arthur!"

The Angel laughed, glancing back so Alfred saw the flash of green eyes. "Come on, Alfred!" He was still ahead, sandaled feet barely touching the ground as he ran, wings spread so that the feathers ruffled slightly with his movements.

They were running through what Alfred at first thought was a forest of white trees, though the shapes he could make out quickly grew larger and he recognized them as buildings. Glowing white buildings that were almost too bright for him to look at, though he only took his gaze off Arthur for a few seconds as they ran.

"Arthur, where are we?" he asked, breathless but not yet tired.

Wings flapped and the Angel was airborne, flying backwards as he grinned at the blue-eyed American following him. "Heaven, of course. Where else would we be? You know I can't stay on earth, Alfred."

Yes, he knew that, but it had never occurred to him that Arthur might actually take him to heaven. Humans couldn't be in heaven, could they?

"Is that okay?"

Arthur gave him a slightly confused look. "What do you mean?"

"Can I be here? In heaven? Am I allowed?"

To his surprise, Arthur started laughing and even stopped running so that Alfred finally managed to catch up to him. Unable to stop himself, the American pulled the shorter blond into a hug and buried his face in the Angel's hair, breathing in deeply to capture his scent, committing it to memory.

"Of course you're allowed, Alfred. Heaven is where Angels belong."

Angels? Confusion replaced Alfred's relief at being able to hold the green-eyed blond and he pulled away far enough to look Arthur in the eye. "What are you talking about?"

Lips curved in a smile, the petite Angel reached around Alfred as if to touch something and the American turned his head to see what his companion was doing. To his astonishment, he saw a pair of wings identical to Arthur's protruding from his back, though his were larger than Arthur's in proportion to his size.

"What the hell?"he stammered, eyes wide, and Arthur laughed again.

"Did you forget already, Alfred? I told you what it takes to become an Angel."

Alfred frowned. "Yeah, you gotta die by…" he trailed off, realization dawning on him. If he was an Angel, that meant he'd given his life in order to save someone else, that he'd died.

"Am…am I dead?" he asked quietly, and Arthur nodded.

"Yes, but now that you're an Angel, we can be together, Alfie." Obviously happy about this, Arthur wrapped his arms around the American's waist in a hug. "I'm glad I don't have to give you up."

Unsure what to do, Alfred slowly returned the hug. "Yeah, me, too." For some reason, he wasn't as happy as he should have been about the fact that he was going to spend the rest of eternity with Arthur. But, he supposed, that was because he was still shocked by the fact that he'd apparently died and didn't even remember it happening.

"Arthur?"

"Yes, Alfred?" The Angel looked up at him and smiled.

"Why did you leave without saying goodbye?"

His smile faltered and Arthur looked down again. "Do you really want to know?"

"Yeah."

Green eyes met blue.

"Because I didn't want to see you die."

Bzzz…bzzz…bzzz…

Grumbling, Alfred lifted his head off the pillow and peered at his phone on the nightstand. He'd forgotten to take his glasses off and they sat crookedly on his face, one lens smeared and dirty to the point where it was useless. And all the while, his phone continued to buzz his afternoon alarm to let him know that it was time to get up and eat something. Despite having been asleep for several hours, he didn't feel very well-rested and could easily recall the unsettling dream he'd had.

It didn't take long for the buzzing to become annoying enough for him to reach over and shut it off. As soon as the buzzing ceased, Alfred flopped back onto the bed and found himself staring at the place where Arthur should have been. Where he wanted Arthur to be.

He'd dreamed about being an Angel and living in heaven with Arthur. He'd dreamed about being dead and that unnerved him a lot more now that he was awake than it had during his dream. Did he really miss Arthur so much already that he was willing to give up his life as a human to be with the golden blond.

Yeah, Alfred admitted to himself, sitting up and running a hand through his bedhead, I do.

Once again, his gaze drifted to the empty space beside him and he chewed on his lip, trying to pretend that Arthur was lying there, still asleep because he'd waited up for Alfred so they could fall asleep together when the American got home from work. It didn't work nearly as well as Alfred wanted it to.

"I miss you," he murmured softly to the otherwise silent bedroom, and let out a sigh. There was no use in wishing Arthur would somehow appear and stay with him forever. The Angel was gone and the sooner he accepted that and got used to it, the better it would be for everyone. Unless he decided to use his dream as advice and searched for an opportunity to sacrifice himself in order to save someone else, though he didn't know how he'd manage that any time soon. He was just a night guard at a laboratory, after all, and that wasn't a particularly dangerous job. Besides, he doubted it would count as a selfless act if he only wanted to do it so that he could be with Arthur.

Ugh, this was too serious of a topic to think about first thing in the afternoon.

Breakfast first, then depressing thoughts about death.

As lonely as he knew it was going to be, Alfred forced himself out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen, cleaning his glasses on the fabric of his pajama pants as he did so.

Breakfast for one. Great.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Okay, so it's not as long as my usual chapters but the last one was super long, therefore it evens out. Sort of. And this is a few hours late but no one can deny that I've been a lot better about updating on time this week than I was previous to now. Huzzah, cookies for everyone.

As I said in my AN on this week's chapter of Visible to Me, my birthday was today (October 8) so that was fun and is also the reason this is late—I went out with friends rather than work on this chapter during the evening. I'm still proud of how close to being on time I am, though.

So I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I'm sorry if Alfred's reaction wasn't quite what you wanted or expected but I promise it happens this way for a reason. Now, I'm extremely tired and going to bed. See you next Tuesday!