Dear Alfred,

The days are never ending. I feel like I've been stuck in a constant loop that I cannot break out of no matter how hard I try; no matter how much force I put into the push. I never once even thought that I would miss your obnoxious laughter, or your little quirks, or the way that one damn piece of hair won't lay flat against your head…I miss everything about you. I never thought that a world could feel so empty without your presence, or that the Earth could stop spinning without you, but it's true. Nothing is the same without you. It's been almost three months now and I still can't tear the image of you lying bloody and broken on the hospital bed out of my mind.

God, do you know I thought the accident was a joke? I thought that Francis was just being an arse, do you know that? I refused to believe that something this fucking terrible could be true because I can't lose you. I just can't. I'm so bloody selfish, Alfred, but I refuse to be without you.

I wonder what thoughts plague your mind. I really hope you're thinking about positive things. I don't want you to remember your accident and how painful it was; I want you to remember the things that make you smile. Like my graduation. Do you remember that? You stood on the fucking chair as I walked across to get my diploma and you started screaming and cheering so loud and you cried out my name and ugh, I was so embarrassed because of you. You annoyed nearly everyone who attended, but you didn't even care. You looked like such a fool; you were always such a nuisance…

That moment is probably my favorite memory, honestly. I never felt more important than I did then. I miss you. I hope you wake up soon; I haven't felt this alone in ages. Don't leave me.

Please come back soon.

With dry, aching eyes, Arthur carefully closed the moleskin notebook, sat back on his desk chair, and emitted a deep sigh. He pawed at his eyes and ached to cry. It was a terrible feeling, not being able to cry. Arthur craved to feel something, anything. He wanted to cry again; he wanted to break down and curse at Alfred for being so stupid. The blond was a blank, untouched slate—tears hadn't been shed in weeks and glass hadn't been broken in almost a month. Arthur had become only a dead shell of a man and it killed him inside.

[Me]

How is he?

[Message sent: 7:22PM]

[Matthew Williams]

He hasn't woken up yet.

[Message received: 7:23PM]

[Me]

Can I see him?

[Message sent: 7:24PM]

[Matthew Williams]

You know the answer to that already, Arthur.

[Message received: 7:26PM]

Arthur grunted deeply in his throat and tossed his phone on the desk in front of him.

"It's not fair," he muttered bitterly, "it's not fucking fair. Why does Matthew always come first?"

The blond shot his dull eyes towards the brown, worn notebook and frowned deeply, almost scarring his face with crease lines.

"Don't I matter to you? I hope you know that he has always come before me. It's always 'Matthew this' and 'Matthew that'. I'm tired of Matthew. I'm tired of fighting over him."

Angry eyes lingered on the notebook as Arthur waited impatiently for a reply.

"He has to grow up, Alfred. I know that you had to be his rock for all of your lives but my God, he's almost twenty-two years old now! When are you going to let go and live your life, not his?"

The air was stiff with silence. Arthur's nostrils flared as his eyes grew hot, and he smiled grimly in satisfaction. He was finally feeling something again.

"Good thing you never had the chance to choose between him and me then, eh?" He countered darkly to the silence. Without waiting for any possible form of a reply, Arthur stood up and paced heavily out of the small office. His bare feet dragged against the carpet as he inched his way towards the kitchen. A pain began to surge from his head and he frowned in distaste. Headaches seemed to be one of the many symptoms of Alfred withdraw, as ironic as it was.

Arthur decided to trudge past his kitchen and change course to the bathroom to tend to the oncoming storm in his head. The bathroom lights flicked on with a small motion of his index finger, and Arthur made note not to look at himself in the mirror as he dug through the medicine cabinet; he didn't want to grimace at himself and think about how a single soul was ruining his life.

"Did I really not pick up some blasted…" he droned as he realized that the small container of Advil wasn't present. With a small grunt of annoyance, the Brit slammed the cabinet shut and turned on his heels.

"Serves me right, I suppose," he breathed as the bathroom grew dark again. Arthur rubbed his throbbing head and squeezed his lifeless eyes closed as the pain began to build up and take effect. As silly as it seemed, the man refused to take the quick drive to the drug store at the end of the block; Arthur had grown accustomed to sheltering in his home when he wasn't at work. A mental list of other possible remedies flooded the Brit's swarming mind: he could sleep, although he wasn't exceptionally tired just yet; maybe he could just lie down for a while and try to relax it off, or maybe he could drink it to paralysis just as he done the evening prior to the accident?

Green eyes slowly peered through slits as Arthur debated with himself about whether or not he should drink. Liquor had been absent from Arthur's system for almost a month now, as he found that while the remedy was numbing, he would only feel worse in the morning. But the comforting taste of booze had always been there for Arthur in his time of need, and he deemed this an appropriate "time of need".

It didn't take the man long before he admitted himself to alcohol treatment.

"And another thing-! You never… you never listen to me! I told you not to buy that blasted fuckin' motorcycle, but you did it anyway, and look what happened! You always, always get hurt when you don't listen to me!"

Matthew bit his lip in concern and held his cell phone away from his ear as Arthur's drunk screams and accusations grew more and more incoherent and mindless. His long fingers jittered against a battered coffee table as his anxiety increased as Arthur droned on.

"Hey, hey, Arthur calm down. What if I… Stop by, eh? I'll come over and we can talk about Alfred, how does that sound?"

"Jus… Just don't die again, okay? My door's unlocked in case you ever decide to come back."

"Okay, Artie, okay, I'll be there in ten minutes," he quickly hung up before Arthur could protest any further. With a nervous sigh, Matthew quickly composed a text message to his boyfriend.

[Me]

Arthur is drunk. He called me thinking I was Alfred. I'm gonna drive over there and make sure he's ok and talk to him

[Message sent: 11:03PM]

The tall blond pocketed his cell phone into his beloved red sweater and made an attempt to calm his wild nerves. He and Arthur never necessarily got along well, and a drunken Arthur was generally even worse than a sober one. Despite how irritated Arthur sometimes made him, Matthew couldn't help but feel an ache in his heart for the older man. Sure, Arthur hardly ever spoke to him and he often flashed the younger blond glares in high school, but Matthew just held a natural compassion for people. Arthur could be an ass at times, but he made Alfred happy. Matthew could overlook the dirty stares and the awkward tension that veiled the two simply because Arthur was important to Alfred. His brother was a man who deserved to be happy; he did so much for the people he came in contact with that it wouldn't seem natural for Alfred to not be blessed with happiness and love in return, even if that happiness and love came from a short British man with unruly eyebrows.

A furious rumble grabbed Matthew's attention and he quickly fished out his phone.

[Francis ]

Be careful, you know how he is. Merci, je t'aime.

[Message received: 11:05PM]

[Me]

Je t'aime aussi : )

[Message sent: 11:11PM]

Thoughts of his dear French lover cleansed his mind as Matthew grabbed his car keys. Francis was far from perfect, that much was obvious, but he was perfect enough for Matthew. Besides his brother, Matthew never had any close relationships, and while he never complained about it, his heart was missing someone to cast its kindness upon. When he met Francis in community college, Matthew never thought that he would grow to love him as much as he did. Francis was flirty and elegant while Matthew was shy and could even be considered slightly feminine. The Frenchman often embarrassed the younger man and enjoyed teasing him and making him blush. They had a strong friendship, but there was always a bigger spark between them; Matthew always felt his heart race with every touch. It wasn't long before they became lovers, and Matthew finally saw how bright the world really is. Francis painted his dark, monochrome world and showed him a life of fun and happiness. Francis treated Matthew to dates, they shared stories with each other, and he made Matthew feel genuinely happy. Of course Alfred made him happy as well, but not in the sense that Francis made him. Francis opened his eyes and proved to him that the world wasn't nearly as dark as he initially assumed it was, he warmed his heart and shaped Matthew into a better man, and for that, the younger blond was eternally grateful. Francis was miles away from perfection, but every little gesture only made Matthew's heart blossom larger and larger with the love he possessed for his boyfriend.

As Matthew fought back the soft push of the chilly winter air and got into his car, he wondered if Arthur felt the same way about Alfred. Did his brother shape him into a better person? Did his magnificent blue eyes out-shine any star Arthur ever saw? Did he love Alfred the way a couple loves each other in the movies?

He knew Alfred loved Arthur. Alfred tried to conceal it and keep it a secret, but there are some things that a loving brother just knows. Alfred lived every single moment of his life for two people, one of them being Arthur. He talked about the short man as if he saved a million lives in one night; he always did. Arthur was like some sort of god to Alfred; Arthur was a goal that the younger man wanted to reach and claim as his own. Matthew was oblivious as to why Alfred never confessed to his best friend; all he knew was that every single crevice of his brother's mind was occupied with images of Arthur. Despite the ever present tension between Matthew and Arthur, he felt sorry for the pair. He wanted Alfred to be happy, of course, but he also wanted Arthur to be happy as well, no matter how often they sent each other glares from across the room. Matthew wanted both men to be happy, and it broke his fragile heart to think that maybe Alfred and Arthur just weren't meant to be; perhaps their love was doomed to be nothing more than a decently kept secret for all of eternity?

Arthur made Alfred happy. No matter how strong the waves were between Matthew and Arthur, he always wanted the Brit to stand by his brother's side because he lit up Alfred's world, and for that, Matthew was grateful. Alfred was too busy being everybody's hero to realize that he needed one as well.

"Maybe Arthur is Al's hero," Matthew concluded as he parked his car in front of Arthur's house. Hurriedly, the blond stepped out of his car and made his way through the freezing late December air and up to the door. Cautiously, he creaked the door open and popped his head in.

"Arthur…?"

"Oh, look who decided to finally join the party," Arthur replied in a slurred mess. Matthew took this as approval to enter, and so he quickly stepped inside the warm, cozy home and shivered. He caught sight of Arthur and frowned. His brother's best friend was spread out on an old, lumpy couch with an empty glass in his hand and a blissful smile across his face.

"Arthur, you need to drink some water," Matthew decided as he quickly paced past the man in question and headed into the kitchen.

"Oh Alfred, don't be silly now, love! Why'd you come back, huh? I thought you left," Arthur spat out the word 'left' as if it set fire to his throat and he plopped himself over the ratty couch cushions to observe Matthew. The younger blond decided to ignore the harsh words and rushed to Arthur's side with a tall glass of water in his grasp.

"Please drink this," he tried to hand the drunken man the cup, but Arthur only frowned in return. After a moment, Matthew tried again, "It will make it hurt less."

Another pause ensued. Arthur stared at Matthew with half-lidded eyes and a small frown. Matthew bit his lip and tried to nudge the glass towards Arthur, but he wasn't having it. With a sigh, Matthew decided to give up as he placed the forgotten glass on the coffee table behind him and crouched in front of Arthur, who continued to stare sadly at him.

The ice broke as Arthur's lip began to tremble, "I miss you. I miss you so much," he whispered as he peered into Matthew's soft eyes, "I want you to come back and I hate myself… I hate myself for depending on you the way I do."

Matthew felt a needle pierce his heart and he quickly climbed on the couch and sat next to Arthur, "He'll come back soon," he reassured as he rubbed tender circles into Arthur's back. As soon as the touch was initiated, Arthur's head snapped up and he glared at his guest.

"Matthew? What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be… guarding Alfred, or something?"

"No, I'm stuck here tending to your drunk ass," Matthew snapped, feeling slightly hurt by Arthur's sudden change of heart. Green eyes glared daggers at Matthew as anger began to bubble up inside of the British man.

"You're the reason… You're the reason he's gone," Arthur spat as he tried to grasp the words that spiraled in the blurry vortex of his thoughts, "Everythin' Alfred does is for you. Maybe he got fed up with it an' swerved into that truck to get away."

Matthew grimaced in utter disgust and disbelief and made no hesitation to stand up, "I think you're able to take care of yourself for the night; I'm going home."

"It's always you," Arthur slurred loudly as Matthew headed anxiously for the front door, "it's you and never me, and that's not fucking fair. I love him and you're the one who gets to be with him. Wha' makes that fair?"

"You know it's not me, Arthur," Matthew barked and turned around to face the shorter man as flames grew in his lavender eyes, "mom's the one who got her 'second chance' with her 'baby'. Don't blame me when I have my restrictions too."

Arthur stood up and glared his daggers at his guest, "Oh, do shut up! Who cares about your piss-poor mother? It's you; you're always the more important one to him. As long as you're around, he… I… He can't love me with you in the way."

The room grew ice cold as petrifying silence wrapped around both men. Matthew glared deep into the fiery eyes of a hurt and drunk Arthur and held his tongue, begging himself to not let anything rude slip; he didn't want to disappoint Alfred.

The silence chilled both parties down to their bones as neither dared to break the thick ice between them. Moments ticked on as the air grew heavier and heavier until one of them finally spoke.

"You're an asshole, Arthur. You need to stop letting your stupid jealousy consume you."

Without another word, Matthew swung the front door open and pulled himself out of the metaphorical cold and into the physical cold of the night. In a dangerous mixture of anger and hurt, Matthew stomped towards his car and decided that maybe Arthur didn't deserve to be happy afterall.

Dear Alfred,

I fucked up again. I hurt Matthew and I don't even know if I feel bad about it or not. I just… I miss you and I'm emotionally unstable. I don't know what's wrong with me or what has gotten into me.

"No, no," Arthur frowned down at the paper and crossed off the last sentence. He nibbled on his bottom lip as his hung over mind made an attempt to form thoughts into words.

I thought he was you. I called him by your name and I spoke to him as if I was talking to you. Well, until I realized that it wasn't you. God, I can only imagine how you'd feel about this. He was always the source of our arguments.

The Englishman briskly rubbed his temples in frustration and glared down at his words. Nothing sounded right. He wrote to Alfred every single day since the accident, but this was the first time he had complications regarding what to say. With a deep grunt, he quickly scrawled a large 'X' over the page and flipped to a fresh one.

Dear Alfred,

I'm stupid. I fucked up last night and you would hate me for it.

"Why do I even bother with this," Arthur muttered bitterly and squeezed his tired eyes shut. He flipped the small book closed and leaned back against his chair. He felt so small and so lost. He was aware that he messed up; what he said to Matthew the night prior was beyond wrong. Missing the one your heart belongs to is understandable, but hurting the ones they love? Arthur knew deep within his broken heart that Alfred would never approve of this kind of behavior, especially if it was directed towards Matthew, but he also knew that he would always mess up one way or another; it seemed to be his talent nowadays.

A loud grumble from his phone tore him away from the swirling mess of his mind. With squinted emerald eyes, he reached for his phone and silently prayed that it wasn't Matthew.

[Frog]

How are you feeling this afternoon, mon ami?

[Message received: 1:34PM]

Droopy eyes frowned down at the short message as Arthur hastily typed his delightful reply.

[Me]

Sod off.

[Message sent: 1:35PM]

Not feeling up to par with interacting with others, Arthur turned his phone off without waiting for Francis' reply and tossed it back on his desk.

"I should get out of the house today," Arthur sighed. Right as he said it, an idea popped into his mind; an idea that would either make him or break him. Before he had the chance to change his mind and regret the thought, Arthur reached for his coat and decided to make himself look at least half way presentable.

Snow was cascading silently down to the earth by the time Arthur pulled into the lot of the park. Even though it was not a popular destination during winter due to the weather, Arthur could make out figures playing near the swings and walking through the dying trees.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Arthur whispered nervously as his heart raced a mile a minute. The last time Arthur stepped foot in their park was the night before Alfred's accident when they redeemed their friendship. Even just the simple thought of their park was more than enough to cast shadows over Arthur's heart; alas, he felt as though being here was something that needed to be done. He hoped that being there alone for the first time would give him a sense of hope, a sense that Alfred would be all right in the end, a sense that everything would end up all right.

Arthur clung desperately to that shred of hope as he swiftly paced through the small layer of snow and towards the park entrance. The park had a peaceful and serene feeling: there was a cool breeze and white powder covered the crumpled brown grass like a soft blanket. The further Arthur pressed on, the calmer he felt. He strolled past a group of children playing tag near the swings and caught himself smiling.

"Do you remember when we were fifteen," he whispered against the call of the breeze, "and you took me, Matthew, and… Oh what was his name…? Kiku, I believe it was, here in the dead of night of all times, and you tried to get us all to play tag? You made such a fool of yourself trying to convince us to play that silly game with you, but you actually managed to persuade us and we played in the end, do you remember? And your brother fell and sprained his arm and you were on him like a bloody vulture… You both went home after that, and I remember complaining to Kiku about how upset I was, but hell, I can't even remember why exactly I was so furious at you…"

Arthur's words trickled into the cold wind as he passed a couple snuggling together on a wooden bench. They were two girls who looked as if they were roughly seventeen years old. They were huddled together in a mass of jackets and scarves and they seemed to be whispering to each other. Despite the pain surging through Arthur's heart, he managed to give them a gentle smile as he strode away from them.

"There were so many time when I wanted to do something silly like that with you," he went on, "We would be sitting on my couch watching a movie and I would ache to wrap my arms around you, or we'd be walking to some cheap fast food joint and I'd stare at your hand and debate with myself about whether or not I should reach for it. I wanted so badly to get close to you just as you wanted with me before we met. I never did it though; I was too afraid of how you'd react. I didn't want to lose you because of something as insignificant as that, but when I look our current situation, it makes me wonder if I should've just said 'to hell with it' and reached for your hand or put my arms around you anyway."

Arthur's words slipped away as he realized where he was standing. He was under the light post. A sting rippled through his heart; a sting that was hard and forceful, but it left an aftertaste that was oddly bittersweet. Arthur felt as though Alfred was with him, listening to him drone on just as he used to, and that thought was enough to cast away the chill of the winter air.

"I taught you how to drive," Arthur recalled with a light chuckle, "you were downright dreadful at it and I was pretty sure that I was stepping into my own grave every time I entered your car. You were so damn persistent too! 'But Artie, why do I have to stop here? Nobody ever does; the stop sign basically means nothing!' You're lucky you had me as your teacher or else you would've killed—"

The warmth of Alfred faded away as quickly as it appeared as Arthur stopped himself from saying something he'd regret. He was alone as the light post frowned down at his lonely figure. The wind picked up and engulfed Arthur in its mad rush, and the man felt colder than he was when he first arrived. Upon observing his surroundings, Arthur soon realized that he was the only soul left in the park. The children were gone, the couple was gone, and Alfred was gone. The only things left in existence were the ferocity of the cold and the sad light post casting its lonely shadow over him.

He was alone.

Oh gosh first, let me apologize for not updating in so long! I usually take a while to update anyway, but I'm pretty sure this has been the longest time yet, so I'm sorry for that! I hope the length of this chapter makes up for that because this is the longest one as of yet.

I also changed the summary. I like it a lot better and I hope you guys agree! Oh, and if you guys are interested, I actually have a playlist for this fic, and I can put it on 8tracks if you guys really want it?

Anyway, wow, this chapter... It's not too exciting, I guess? It hits a lot of key areas like how Matthew sees Artie as Alfred's world, while Artie sees that as Matthew. The only difference is that Arthur gets upset because he's stubborn and jealous and it ruins his "relationship" with Matthew, and it's the cause of most of the arguments between Artie and Al, as seen in chapter... Two, I believe it was? Arthur is trying to improve himself, but he's so fixed on Alfred that it's only ruining him and breaking him further. Poor thing. I guess this could be considered somewhat of a filler chapter, a little? Maybe? The next chapter is going to be more exciting, I promise! I also feel like I should note that we're almost to the halfway mark of the story, so yay! I promised I'd finish it, and I intend to keep that promise!

Anyway, there are no connections to the true story in this chapter; that won't occur until we get word on Alfred.

Let's hope I don't take extremely long to update next time around. I hope you guys enjoy; lemme know what you think!

Translation Notes:

Merci, je t'aime - French: "Thank you, I love you"