Arthur was rudely woken by the violent rumbling of his phone against the wooden surface of his coffee table.

He emitted a pained groan as his broken emerald eyes slowly came to fix. The living room was dark and lonesome, and Arthur's heart immediately dropped as he slowly sat up. He had a putrid feeling deep in his gut that clawed at his stomach, and he felt hallow and alone as he peered around the dark room questioningly. A sharp pain in his head suddenly struck, and Arthur grasped his it and let out a groan.

He wasn't quite sure as to what had happened before he blacked out, although the empty glass, the pounding headache, and the bitter taste lingering in his swollen throat signified that he had drunk a bit. The Brit rubbed at his puffy eyes and attempted to remember what had caused the empty feeling that was tearing at him from the inside.

It came back to him almost instantly.

The yelling, the accusations, the dreaded silence, the harsh insults, the sobbing, the self loathing, the drinking…

He had fought with Alfred. Oh yes, he remembered clearly now.

"I need another drink," He blubbered. Before he could even pry himself off the floor, another rumble from his phone grabbed his attention.

[Alfred]

Meet me at our park at 1:40? If ur still up but I know u r

[Message received: 1:19AM]

Arthur's heart shot up into his burning throat, and he half expected himself to puke up all of the night's emotions and regrets. With shaking fingers, he slowly typed his reply as warm tears threatened his vision.

[Me]

Alright.

[Message sent: 1:26AM]

The pain was almost completely unbearable. To say that he felt like shit would be an understatement. He longed for an escape: alcohol, work, sleep, anything that didn't involve confronting Alfred face to face. Arthur wasn't weak, no; in fact, he was a strong, proud man who just happened to be unable to handle pain well.

The Britain breathed out a desperate sigh and stared blankly at his phone. He honestly didn't want to see Alfred. He feared the what if's and he didn't want to face whatever horrible situation could rear out of confronting what had happened. Hell, he didn't even want to remember the argument… But Alfred had asked to see him. Knowing the American awfully well, Arthur was sure that the git tried to look past their fight and continue on his day like it didn't bother him. It could've eaten Alfred from the inside, and he would pretend as though he couldn't even feel it! The older of the two had always despised that. There was nothing wrong with showing a little emotion; Alfred was just young and foolish. He was an immature brat who suffered from an equally immature hero complex and put himself in front of every god forsaken person. Alfred never paid attention to his own problems as long as there was someone else who he deemed had it worse than him.

"And that's why I have to be there for him," Arthur decided aloud. Arthur had to be a hero for his hero.

Despite the pain in his heart, the blond stood up. The action alone proved to be a chore, and he fell back onto the brown couch behind him. Arthur closed his eyes in aggravation and rubbed at his temples. His head swirled madly and he suddenly felt very ill.

"Maybe I'll take an Advil before I leave…"

Arthur had second guessed his decision twice. The first time was when he entered the bathroom to pop a pill and make himself look presentable. He gagged as soon as he caught sight of his reflection. He knew that seeing how broken he looked didn't trigger his gag reflex, although irony did play a cruel card with that one.

The second time was just as he was about to open the door and trek outside. Arthur had reached for the doorknob, but suddenly felt very dizzy and toppled over. As much as he would deny it, Arthur wanted to cry. He felt so weak and alone, and he was even beginning to ask himself if seeing Alfred would really be worth it. However, the Kirkland genes possess some sort of inner strength, and so, he managed to pull himself up off the floor and finally walk out into the cold night.

He desperately needed to see Alfred, no matter how badly his body fought it.

As Arthur pulled into the abandoned parking lot of his and Alfred's sentimental park, he felt the regret and guilt wash over him yet again. His heart shot up into his throat and his eyes burnt with pesky tears of fear and self pity.

"Come on, Arthur," He mumbled to himself as he massaged his temples gingerly, "you cannot back away from this now."

With a final sigh of desperation, the nervous Brit tore his keys from the ignition, exited his car, and stepped out into the chilly darkness. He took long strides as the frosty air curled around him and attempted to nip on his gloves fingers and his freckled cheeks, but he paid no mind. His entire attention was on Alfred. He knew where Alfred would be: on a small hill to the far left of the park that was marked by a single, towering lamp post. That very spot was engraved into Arthur's memory; afterall, that was where they had their moment after Arthur's graduation years prior. That was where he had fallen in love with the younger man. That's where so many memories were born, flourished, and shared, and that was where Alfred would be.

Sure enough, Arthur could see the form of a man leaning casually against the lonely post. His footsteps felt lighter and lighter, and his heart felt heavier and heavier as he approached the meeting spot. The painful feeling of emptiness haunted his gut and tugged at his pitiful heartstrings, and Arthur wondered if that was how the lamp post felt. His mind swirled and he felt excruciatingly dizzy; nevertheless, Arthur ignored the ringing in his ears and attempted to maintain his composure as Alfred came into view.

It seemed as though sleeplessness struck Alfred over the head as well. Alfred's shoulders were slouched sorrowfully, his hair was an untidy rat's nest, and his eyes looked sleepy and dull. The appearance didn't seem like Alfred whatsoever, and seeing him like that made Arthur flinch.

"Hi…" Alfred breathed a greeting. Arthur stepped into the hauntingly dim, yellow blanket of light emitted from the desolate lamp post, and then, they were the only two in the world. Arthur could see Alfred clearly, and the world around them seemed to vanish as his sad green eyes casted over his tall friend. The Brit felt very self conscious within a moment, and he ran a gloved hand over his messy locks for comfort. Arthur's reply was silence.

"I um," Alfred spoke up after a moment of painfully awkward quietness, "I don't really know how to begin, actually…"

Arthur dared himself to meet the blue eyes that always made him feel appreciated. They weren't bright, lively blue skies on a summer afternoon as they usually were. The light was gone and replaced with dark, gloomy, rainy skies… It didn't suit Alfred. They weren't Alfred's eyes, they couldn't be. That was not who he was, he shouldn't be sporting such a heart wrenching expression, he shouldn't look so lost and upset, his thin cheeks shouldn't be pink with tear stains, he shouldn't be blaming himself for what had happened, he shouldn't even be going through this, he…

Arthur choked back a sob as he brain littered itself with clusters of thoughts. He tried to reply, he honestly did. A million phrases raced through his cluttered mind: "I'm sorry", "I was wrong", "Please don't beat yourself up", "You're my hero", "Don't leave me, please", "I love you so much"…

"I'm so foolish," The British man squeaked and rubbed at his wet eyes in shame, "I'm such an idiot."

Alfred's mouth gapped opened as he struggled to reply. He was sporting his "kicked puppy" expression, which only heightened Arthur's emotions.

"Arthur, you're not stupid…" He tried to reassure in a frail voice. The man in question shook his head and chuckled darkly.

"No, I am. I've been crying all fucking day, you know? I drank and sobbed to myself until I passed out on the floor. I am the bloody embodiment of self pity. If that isn't stupid, Alfred, then please enlighten me as to what is."

The following pause engulfed the men. The autumn air crept into their bubble of light and carried Arthur's hushed sniffles away into the dark night surrounding them. Minutes ticked by before either dared to crack the glass of silence.

"I'm sorry," Alfred's voice cracked. It wasn't nearly as obvious as Arthur, but the younger of the two was crying as well, "It was stupid, I know it was. We were both wrong, and of course I didn't mean any of those things that I said to you and I regret even thinking them. Arthur, I…"

Another pause ensued. Arthur's heart flipped and pulsed frantically. Tears dripped from his round cheeks as he peeked up at the taller blond in time to seem him scratch at his nose with an expression of uncertainty.

"… You're my best friend," Alfred continued, "We've been through hell and back. You've helped Mattie and me through so much. I've always been Mattie's rock throughout our entire lives. I have to be there to protect him because I love him. I would do anything for him, and you know that. I'm his hero, but… I've never had someone do the same for me, until I met you. I never thought I'd say this, Artie, but you've been my hero. Without you… Hell, I don't even know where I'd be. I don't want to lose you, not to something like this. You're one of the most important people in my life, okay? I want you to always remember that. If you forget anything, please don't let it be that."

Arthur choked back yet another sob and bit down harshly onto his lip. He scrubbed at his swollen eyes as tears cascaded down his cheeks one after another. Alfred frowned, but his tan face soon cracked into a weak smile. Without hesitation, he closed the gap between them and pulled his best friend into his chest and embraced him. The warmth of Alfred's body wrapped around the short Britain, and he clung to the back of Alfred's brown jacket desperately.

"I promise to never leave you, Alfred," He whispered against his shoulder, "I will always be your hero. I'm so sorry for being such a git…"

He felt Alfred's chest bounce with light laughter, and Arthur smiled and breathed in his friend's homely scent. The pair stayed silent for a moment in their embrace until they were pulled away from their sanctuary under the warmth of the yellow light and were back in their park all alone with nothing but the night as their witness. Finally, Alfred pulled away from Arthur and let his strong arms fall to his side.

"I guess we have to do movie night some other time then, huh?"

Arthur smiled.

A soft blanket of early morning sun peeked through old blinds and dropped itself neatly onto Arthur's sleeping form. With a grumble of disapproval, he slowly opened his tired emerald eyes and sat up with a quiet yawn.

Alfred and Arthur didn't return to their own homes the night before until twenty minutes after two in the morning. Alfred tried to push Arthur into taking off work the next day so that the pair could stay up until dawn wandering town together as they had often done in their adolescence. Alfred's persistence, however, was no use, and Arthur was the one to break off their time together and tell Alfred to go to bed.

A furious rumble from his phone snapped Arthur's eyes opened and tore him away from his thoughts.

"Who the bloody fuck is calling? It's seven-thirty in the morning…" He complained. Arthur reached for his phone, his wooly blanket slipping from his bare shoulders. The caller ID read Alfred, and the Brit rolled his eyes. Of course it was Alfred.

"Mornin', sunshine!" The American greeted joyfully from the other line. Arthur snorted in amusement.

"Yes, yes, what is it, Alfred? Why are you awake so early anyway; you don't have to be at work until four. Shouldn't you be sleeping until noon, per usual?"

"Nope," He laughed, "Well, yeah, I mean, I am scheduled to take four to midnight, but I thought I'd take a cruise around town on my bike! I just wanted to let you know in case you freak out again."

Arthur smiled weakly despite himself. It was honestly reassuring to have someone who thought of you like in a way like so; no matter if Alfred did that to virtually anyone he met.

"Thank you, Alfred. I'll call you after work, alright? Have fun, and be safe on that damn thing."

"Don't worry, Artie," He could practically hear Alfred's doofy grin, "I'll be fine, I promise! I'll talk to ya later!"

The green-eyed blond ended the call with a smile on his face.

"Twit…" He muttered playfully to himself. Arthur was ecstatic to be on good terms with Alfred again. That boy was a walking ray of sunshine, and without him in your life, everything was dark and gloomy. Alfred was the type of person who carried happiness in a bag and donned it to anyone he thought deserved it. Arthur figured that maybe that was why the stubborn American had tried so hard to befriend him back in high school; because he saw how sad and lonely he was and wished to grant him happiness?

Whatever the reason, Arthur Kirkland was truly happy.

Life seemed better that day.

The drive to work was quick and painless, with traffic being less of an issue than usual. The October air was cool and pleasant, and the sky was bright and blue without a cloud in sight. Arthur felt significantly brighter and happier, and he was sure that he had Alfred to thank for that. With just a glimpse of Alfred's contagious smile, the world was a better place.

"Hell, maybe I'll even confess to him today," He meant it as a joke, but as he parked his car near the front of the steamy restaurant he called work, it felt so right. The words flowed smoothly off of his tongue and didn't even catch in his throat. Arthur was beginning to think that he was dreaming; everything felt too good to be true. He felt so disconnected from the world, and nothing seemed real.

He attempted to dispose of the thoughts as he stepped out of his car and patted his black button down. Arthur took proud, blissful steps, but as he neared the front of his work, a frown fell into place.

"Oh bloody fuck," He breathed as he caught sight of Francis. The second bane of his existence was pacing back and forth across the outside waiting area. As Arthur grew closer, he sensed a strange aura. The tall French man was tugging at his wavy hair and mumbling frantic, silent words to himself as he walked a line in front of the doors with his phone locked tightly in his grasp.

"Francis," Arthur began uncertainly. He held his tongue in wait for the witty remark his old friend would place upon him, however, it never came. At the sound of his name, Francis snapped his head in Arthur's direction and raced down the ramp to greet him.

"Arthur," He called for the shorter man and grasped his shoulders with sweaty palms, "Oh, Dieu merci! I thought you were avec lui! You know, Arthur, I… j'avais peur. I can't believe it, I really can't. I thought you were there; I was about ready to drive over there no matter what Matthew said. Je suis desole, je suis desole, je suis desole…"

Francis droned on as his words became more and more jumbled each time he switched languages. Something wasn't right, Arthur was sure of it. He knew Francis long enough to know how frantic he becomes when he is upset or afraid. Arthur frowned and tried to push the older man off of him as Francis shook and mumbled insanely.

"Francis," He snapped, "Get a hold of yourself and get off me! Why are you crying? What happened?"

The broken, stuttering French ceased and he pierced his gaze into Arthur's eyes. His cheeks were red and wet with tears, and his flirtatious blue eyes were blood shot and fearful. A shiver crept down Arthur's spine and he broke the uncomfortable gaze.

"You… You don't know?" He barely whispered.

"No, I obviously don't," Arthur replied sternly. He swallowed hard as the uncomfortableness of the situation increased with each passing second, "What happened? Was it Matthew? Is he alright, should I call Alfred?"

The taller blond gasped and shook his head as tears bean to weld in his eyes yet again. He chuckled sadly, muttered a few words in his native language, and met Arthur's worried orbs yet again.

"Arthur… Alfred got into an accident this morning. He collided with a truck, and he is in the hospital right now. Matthew said that it looks very, very bad… I'm sorry Arthur, I am so, so sorry."

Oh man, updated in a little over a month. I tried to update faster, but I had a hard time writing the first draft for this chapter since I've been suffering from writers block for some time. I do have to say, though, that I like the final much more than the draft (even though it's supposed to be that way)!

Anyway, Alfred is not dead. I feel like I should note that. I don't want people thinking that he is, especially since I don't know when the next update will be (hopefully sooner than later, though!).

... I also feel as though I should mention that, from here on out, it's downhill. The angst category for this is not to be taken lightly, it's pretty heart wrenching. This chapter alone made me tear up constantly and made my girlfriend sob so aha, I hope you guys know what you're in for!

As for the parallels to the true story, as stated in the previous chapter, my mom and her best friend never fought. He fought with his girlfriend, and he met my mom at a park late at night to talk about it, and their friendship grew stronger. My mom found out about his accident at work (they both worked at Olive Garden at the time) thanks to a mutual friend of theirs. Unlike Artie and Alfred, my mom and her best friend didn't have a sentimental park- I just included that as a theme for the story.

Anyway, that's all for now! I'm super excited to update this! Let me know what you guys think, yeah? Feedback encourages me greatly and makes me crave writing more! See you all soon!

... I should make a cover for this soon.

Translation Notes:

Dieu merci - French: "Thank God"

avec lui - French: "with him"

j'avais peur - French: "I was afraid"

je suis desole - French: "I'm sorry"