9:58

Arthur woke to the sensation of Gilbert shaking him.

"GET UP! WE'VE GOT TO GO!" the albino yelled. The Englishman was still very disoriented as the German proceeded to pick him up and drag him out his bedroom door.

"Put me down, you git!" he screamed as he began to realize what was going on. Gilbert obliged and dropped the grumpy Brit on the floor. Arthur jumped up and straightened himself out. "How did you even get in here?"

"I broke in," Gilbert shrugged as if it were obvious.

"How is that even possible?"

"We don't have time to play twenty questions. We've got to get to the hospital!"

"What? Why?"

"Well, you see, the thing is-" he began, but trailed off, as if he couldn't form the right words. Arthur crossed his arms and glared at the albino still pretty pissed to be awoken from his sleep.

"Just say it!"

"Francis is hurt," he admitted gently, worried that the Brit might freak out but Arthur didn't actually hear the whole sentence. After he heard the word Francis, his ears sort of went deaf. Francis...that bastard, what did he want? Probably wants to explain why he stood me up and sent his buddy over here to convince me to go meet him. I should go, just to see him try to beg for forgiveness and then see his face when I reject him. The Englishman liked to think this way but he knew all too well, that with a couple words from that Frog, he'd be weak in the knees was mad that the mere sound of his name was still able to elicit such emotions from within him. No. He didn't want to deal with this anymore. It hurt too much.

"I'm going to bed," the Brit murmured as he tried to go back to his room.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Francis is in the hospital!" Arthur took this information in. It worried him a bit, but he wouldn't put it past the Frenchman to try to manipulate his emotions to get him to forgive him. He wasn't falling for it this time.

"Don't lie to me. If he didn't want to come, he should have said so. He didn't have to send his buddy to lie for him," Arthur replied sternly. Gilbert looked at him in shock.

"Are you serious? I mean, I always thought you were a bit of a prick, but I just assumed it was because you needed to get laid!"

"You thought I was a prick?! You're one to talk! Breaking into people's houses and spouting lies," said Arthur dismissively. He really didn't want to deal with the German bastard's asinine comments tonight. He headed back to the room but the trip didn't last very long. Soon, he felt the sensation of being tackled to the ground. The albino sat on his stomach as he struggled to get free.

"Listen up, you hobo, I don't even want to be here. I should be by best friend's side while he's in the hospital but Ludwig said I had to I get you, so you're coming with me. Now, we can do this the easy way or we can do it my way. I'm good with either, but my way might put you in the hospital too."

"How can you think I'm homeless when you are literally standing in my house?"

"Why do you focus on the insignificant things? You're boyfriend's in the hospital!"

"He's not my boyfriend and he's not in the hospital!"

"None of those statements were true!"

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"I'm not calling you to dinner!"

"Get off me, you bullox!"

"Mein Gott, you are a stubborn one," noted Gilbert as he sat on the Englishman's abdomen. Arthur just stared at the albino, hoping he would burst into flames, but he just sat there. Eventually, he Brit simply sighed, defeated.

"Listen, I know you're trying to help your friend out but I really (something, I'll figure it out later)"

"Why don't you call Ludwig? Do you think he'd lie for Francis?" Arthur hadn't thought of that.

"Ok, I will," he sighed. Gilbert nodded. Arthur waited for the German to get up but he simply sat there as if the phone were going to magically call his brother itself. "Um, you have to get off me," he remarked condescendingly. "Unless you think the phone can magically fly into my hands."

"Oh, sorry," he apologized, getting up. "Your belly is so soft."

"We can't all live at the gym," the Brit snapped.

"You don't have to live there, but you could visit," he retorted. Arthur cursed under his breath as he went to retrieve his phone. After turning it on, an influx of missed calls and messages filled his phone. Gilbert had called him the most but there were also calls from Alfred, Matthew and Antonio. All the messages had exclamation points and were pervasive with capital letters, they ranged from "Where are you?" to "THIS IS SERIOUS! PICK UP YOUR PHONE!" Arthur started to get seriously worried as he dialed Ludwig's number. He held his breath as the phone rang.

"Hello?" answered a rough male voice.

"Ludwig? This is Arthur."

"Oh," his voice softened a little. "Did Gilbert tell you? Are you on your way?"

"So, he's really there?" he questioned softly.

"Yea..."

"How is he?" Arthur asked, realizing the reality of the situation.

"He's unconscious right now, they say he probably has a concussion."

"What happened?" he asked, biting down on the inside of his lip. It couldn't be that bad, he reasoned. Nothing bad ever happens to Francis.

"I'm not exactly sure, the doctor's say it was some kind of accident..." Accident?

"Ludwig, what happened?" The voice on the other line was completely silent.

"Ludwig?" Nothing.

"LUDWIG?" What the hell is going on? Still no response.

"Answer me, you bloody kraut!"

"Sorry, Arthur," the German finally replied. "The doctors were talking to me."

"What are they saying?"

"Well...um...it doesn't look good."

"What do you mean?"

"Francis may be-sorry, they say I've got to turn off my cell."

"Why?"

"Hospital rules. Just get here quickly."

"I'm on my way." Arthur hung up the phone and turned around. "Gilbert-" he began. The albino was sitting on his couch leafing through a photo album, every now and then he'd take a picture of a photo with his cell, at the sound of his name he looked up.

"Yea?"

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Looking at pictures?" he asked as though it was pretty obvious.

"Why?"

"Isn't that what pictures are for?"

"But why are you taking pictures of my pictures?"

"To have on my phone," the albino replied as if the Englishman was an idiot. "Why else would I do that?" Arthur shook his head; he didn't have time for this weirdness right now.

"We've got to get to the hospital. Let's go!" He grabbed his keys and headed for the door, but Gilbert stopped him.

"You're not going like that."

"What? Are you crazy?"

"I'm not the one leaving the house in a dress."

"This isn't a dress," Arthur snapped. "It's a night gown."

"Gown, dress, same difference," Gilbert shrugged. "Give me your keys, I'll pull the car around while you change."

"Wait, how did you get here?"

"I took a cab."

"But what about your-"

"Can we stop playing 20 questions? You have clothes to change, and I," he asserted, quickly grabbing the keys out of the Brit's hands. "Have a car to get." Arthur wanted to protest but the albino was already gone and decided it wasn't worth the time. He quickly changed into his favorite vest and pants, grabbed his cell and was out the door.

10:36

They rode in silence. Even though he was in a hurry, Gilbert was being unusually attentive to the road, slowing down at yellow lights and coming to a complete halt at stop signs. Arthur watched curiously as the red eyed man stared at the road with the most angry expression, but it was mixed with something else. Frustration? Sadness? Guilt? Arthur couldn't figure it out but it was definitely there.

10:42

It was taking way too long to get to the hospital. The wait was agonizing and Arthur was getting anxious.

"Can't you go any faster?"

"We're almost there," Gilbert assured.

"We'd be there if you drove faster," he retorted, crossing his arms.

"Listen, I know you're worried, but getting in a car accident won't make it any better." The Brit studied the German who was acting way too serious. It scared him.

"Since when do you care about speed limits?" he questioned. "You're the guy who got kicked out of Amsterdam for going too fast." Gilbert smiled slightly at this but kept quiet, only increasing Arthur's anxiety.

Soon they pulled in to the hospital parking lot and Arthur was out of the car before the driver could complete stop. He burst through the door and immediately located front desk.

"I'm looking for a Francis Bonnefoy," he told the woman typing away at her computer.

"Name?"

"I said Francis Bonnefoy," Arthur repeated, causing her to sigh.

"Your name."

"Arthur Kirkland," he said as Gilbert walked up behind him.

"What's your relation to the patient?"

"He's my-well, he's-we're," the Brit attempted. The German shook his head at the flustered gentleman.

"They're lovers," he explained to the receptionist.

"What?! No, that's no it!"

"Then, what is it?" the woman asked.

"Yea Artie, what is it?" the German smirked.

"I don't have time for these shenanigans! I need to see him."

"Yea, we both do," explained the albino. "Where is he now?"

"I'm sorry, I can't tell you."

"What? Why not?"

"You aren't allowed to know his room number at the moment."

"Okay, so why don't you tell me the number so I can be sure to avoid it. Wouldn't want me wandering in there by accident."

"Sorry, that's against hospital rules."

"It's against the rules to let people see their injured friends?" asked Arthur sarcastically. "I thought this was hospital, not a bloody prison!"

"Well, I'm sorry Mr. Kirkland, but when a patient is in critical condition only the immediate family can see him."

"Wait, critical condition?" demanded Gilbert. "No, I was here like an hour ago, I mean it was bad but the doctors said he should be fine."

"Unfortunately, Mr. Bonnefoy's condition has deteriorated over that time period."

"No, no," the German refused, shaking his head. "No, you must have the wrong guy. Check again."

"I have checked sir."

"I said, check, again," he growled, red eyes ablaze.

"Who exactly are you?" the receptionist asked.

"I'm that guy's best friend and I'm not going to let you sit there and lie to me," he claimed, jumping over the desk and attempting to take over the woman's computer. "You're obviously not going to check so I'll do it."

"Sir, get away from my desk or I'll be forced to call security!"

"Bring it on girlie, don't forget to call an ambulance for when I kick their asses," the German shrugged, typing angrily into the computer.

"Well, we're technically already in a hospital," Arthur remarked. "So we wouldn't need an ambulance to-"

"Not helping," Gilbert snapped. His vision remained steadfast on the computer screen as the receptionist tried to call for security. Arthur backed away from the scene and headed deeper into the hospital.

11:16

Arthur was lost. Why did this place have to be so bloody big? He thought an official place like this should have signs everywhere but every corner he turned greeted him with a new white wall. He tried to ask someone for directions but all the nurses and doctors were always rushing past him, taking care of someone, Arthur wanted to start entering random rooms, in hopes of luckily stumbling upon Francis but decided against it. He didn't need to interrupt someone's surgery or walk in on some woman giving birth. So he ended up walking around for a little while longer before he reached an elevator. The Englishman studied the buttons; all they had were their respective numbers by them, no information as to what was on the floors. He sighed and randomly chose 3. He rode in silence and got off on the floor. Once he stepped off the elevator, the strong scent of oatmeal hit his nose. Even though he didn't particularly like the dish, his stomach rumbled. I can't get distracted! I've got to find Francis! He tried to focus but his abdomen protested. Goddamnit, why I am I so bloody hungry? His scowl softened a little when he remembered why he had missed dinner. Francis...he sighed, but he shook his head. There was no time to waste. He moved through the floor, eventually finding the cafeteria. The gentleman searched around for someone who looked like they might be able to give him directions. Directions? To where? I don't even know where I'm going? What am I going to say? Yes, hi, I just need to know how to get to my boyfriend's room, he's-woah, no! Not my boyfriend. Why did I think that? Francis and I are-

"Ve~well do you have pasta? This oatmeal is terrible!" a voice whined and Arthur perked up. Feliciano?

"Sir, this is not a five star restaurant," the cafeteria lady deadpanned.

"Well, do you have something that's fucking edible? It's like you dipshits are trying to send us to the hospital by feeding us this fucking poison! No wonder no one ever comes out of this place!" Lovino spat.

"Sir, you don't have to eat here," the lady growled through gritted teeth.

"Like fuck I don't! No one can eat here, you don't fucking have food!"

"Lovi, you don't have to be mean. It's not fault their food's worse than Arthur's," Feliciano said.

"No one's food is worse than Arthur's."

"Well, no one bloody asked you did they, you pretentious prat!" the Brit snapped, walking over to the two Italians.

"Arthur, is that you?" grinned the younger brunette.

"About fucking time," Lovino glared. "We've been waiting."

"Ve~Luddy, was wondering where you were?" Feliciano asked before the smile disappeared from his lips. "Do you know about Francis?"

"Of course he does, you asshat! Why do you think he's here?"snapped his brother. "To eat the fucking delicious oatmeal? I mean, it is better than his food-"

"You've seen Francis?" Arthur asked Feliciano, deciding to deal with Lovino later.

"Only for a little while," the brunette responded, his bottom lip trembling before he started to cry. "Oh, it's terrible! I don't want him to die! He can be a little weird sometimes but he's still my friend! I'd miss him too much and I don't think he'd go to heaven. Wouldn't that be terrible? Did you know Francis could be a little perverted? At least that's what Ludwig tells me! I just thought he was being really nice and-" The rest of the Italians words seemed to fade into the background. Die? Who said anything about dying? Is that even possible? Francis can't die...he can't. No. I mean, people die, it happens but...he can't just leave. No, Feliciano's just being dramatic. That boy talks a mile a minute and probably has no control over the words that leave that mouth of his.

"Can you take me to Ludwig?" the Brit asked, interrupting the Italian's continuing monologue.

"Ve~of course! He's in the waiting room," Feliciano smiled.

"Why should we?" Lovino scowled.

"Why do you have to be so negative all the time?" his brother scolded. "Follow me, Arthur." They quickly left the cafeteria, both brothers tossing their oatmeal into the trash on their way out. Feliciano seemed to bounce as he led them back to the waiting room but after a couple of minutes of wondering in the halls, he appeared to slow down. Arthur watched anxiously as they turned another corner just to end up in another empty hallway.

"You're lost," Lovino snapped.

"No, we just-it's just-we have to-yea, we're lost," his brother admitted sheepishly.

"Are you serious?" the Brit asked incredulously.

11:31

So Francis could be dying and I'm stuck in this fucking maze with tweedle dum and tweedle dumber, Arthur thought angrily as they turned another corner.

"Why don't we just ask for directions?" asked Feliciano.

"What are you? Some fucking girl?" spat his brother. "Who the Hell gets lost in a hospital?"
"Do you have any better ideas?" asked the irritated Brit.

"Yes, I do," Lovino assured. "In fact, I know where to go." The Italian took off down the hallway and the others followed. The brunette managed to find the stairs and led them up a couple of flights.

"I remember the waiting room being on the same floor," remarked Feliciano.

"Yea, this is a short cut," his brother explained.

"But we're on the sixth floor," argued Arthur.

"Goddammit, you fucking limey! I said I knew where I was going so why don't you shut up, okay?"

"Don't tell me to shut up, you're the one who's bloody lost!"

"I'm not lost! I know where exactly where I am!"

"Where are we?"

"We're...we're," Lovino looked around. "We're obviously on the sixth floor!"

"For Pete's sake, I don't have time for this! I need to find Francis!"

"Well you're wasting your time," the older brother claimed. "We don't know where Francis is, they moved him to the critical wing over an hour ago."

"I know that," Arthur shot back. "I just wanted to ask Ludwig if he might have an idea where that wing is."

"Why do you care so much? I thought you hated that guy."

"What? Oh yea, I do, so much," he said, unconvincingly.

"Really?" asked Feliciano. "I thought you two were-"

"Do you know where Ludwig is or not?"

"What do you think we're doing now? Enjoying a lovely stroll through the sick wing of the hospital?" Lovino asked, sarcastically.

"Ludwig?" pondered the younger brother. "He's in the waiting room, I'll take you!" He began walking down the hall before realizing he was lost again. "Um, wait, which way is it?"


A/N: A huge thanks to everyone who favorited/followed/reviewed this story, you guys are the best! :)

Thanks for reading!