A/N: I'm sorry this took me so long. :'( I just have a lot going on at the moment. Art projects, softball games, and now trying to record a single for my band. Guh, I'm sorry guys. Hope you enjoy!

Things weren't exactly going awesome, Alfred had decided.

Work seemed to keep piling and piling up on his desk. He had only been off one day. And is if that wasn't enough to get on his nerves, the clacking of the keyboards, the smell of coffee, the birds chirping, cars passing by outside, the annoying voices of his co-workers; it all made Alfred want to strangle himself.

He couldn't concentrate even if he wanted to. It was like being an ADD child in a toy store.

The American squirmed in his seat for hours trying to get his work done. Time felt like it was staggering along. Alfred found himself gazing outside the window every now and then.

It was getting dark already. But, it wasn't because it was late—much to Alfred's disappointment. Gray seemed to take over whatever blue hue of the sky was left over. His mind wandered to Arthur. Again. For the third time in an hour.

That was his sign to get back to work.

There were days at work where he was restless, finishing everything way ahead of scheduled time. Then, there were days like today. He was indecisive, weary, and unable to concentrate because the writing on the paperwork kept fading in and out of his vision.

He was often asked if there was something wrong on these days. Alfred, who didn't want to jeopardize his new job, would simply plaster on a smile and say, "M'fine!" then go back to work.

That is, until his migraines kicked in. They always seemed to hit him here at work. In a sense, it was better that way. Matthew wouldn't have to be around him while he was in pain.

Alfred was interrupted in whatever work he was finally getting done when the phone in his pocket vibrated. Francis, again. Since last night the Frenchman hadn't stopped calling or texting him. It was precautionary.

He peered down at the screen, inconspicuously, of course.

From: Francis

-------------------

Are you okay, mon ami? Are you home yet? The little bien-aimé wanted to know how you were.

The curly blond's constant check ups were annoying the fuck out of Alfred.

To: Francis

-------------------

Again? M'fine Francis. Just a headache. Tell Mattie I'll be home a lil late. Stop texting me. At work.

With that, the blue eyed man returned to his work. He had already forgotten what he was supposed to be doing. Now, frustrated and irritable, Alfred shoved his phone in his pocket and decided that this was the perfect time for a break. Chance to clear his mind.

Unfortunately for him, it did the exact opposite.

Alfred took a seat on a chair in the reception room of the building. There were two large windows on each side of him. He had been avoiding windows since Arthur left. Windows let you see outside. Outside was where the sky was. And well, Arthur was in the sky now. Somewhere.

The blond slumped against the padded back of the chair, eyes fixated on the dark clouds swallowing the sky. Rain. Of course. It always seemed to rain now.

He wanted coffee. Correction, he needed coffee. Even if it burned his throat and made it even more raw than it was before.

Alfred rubbed his temple and squeezed his eyes shut. Thunder. How wonderful. Just the noise had sent tremors of pain shooting up to his head. Ever single sound made his head pulsate. And Alfred was pretty sure that wasn't a good thing.

You should be working.

His eyes shot open as he frantically searched around him. It was his voice again. So close. Yet he couldn't see him.

Matthew is worried about you. Look at yourself, Alfred. You're falling apart.

It was all in his head. Of course. It was just all in his head. He hadn't slept well for a few days, so he was just imagining that perfect voice. He wouldn't be here. Alfred glanced around. All that he saw was the empty reception area.

I can't stand to see you this way. Why would you do this to yourself? To Matthew? To Francis?

"W-Where are you?" He felt surrounded. The voice was so close, yet he had no idea where it was coming from. It was driving him mad. If it wasn't enough that he was torturing himself with this phony voice, his chest was hurting. It felt as if he was being stabbed repeatedly in the heart.

"Arthur, where are you?" Alfred questioned, his heart heavy as he hysterically searched around him for the angel.

Of course he was no where to be seen.

Alfred, please, don't look for me anymore. You have a bloody life. Don't do this to yourself.

He jolted up from his chair, his eyes searching every nook and crevice of the room. The pain in his chest was becoming unbearable. The phone number on the scrap sheet of paper was burning a hole in his pocket.

Nothing was safe anymore. There was no place he could go to get away from his memories. Arthur had never even been here. Arthur had never set foot in this building. Yet, he felt the green eyed angel's presence beside him.

It was just cruel.

Alfred, I'm sorry.

Upon standing, the blond man felt weak. His limbs were trembling. He had to grab onto the chair for support.

"Alfred? Are you alright?"

Said man turned from where he stood to see one of his co-workers, a worried look on their face as they hesitated to get closer.

The blond man stood still for a moment. Waiting. Just waiting to hear the voice. But it was gone now.

"M'fine!" Alfred smiled, and stretched his arms. "Jus' fell asleep and I got up too fast."

The other nodded and walked back into the work area. Alfred trailed behind.

He found himself back at his desk. The papers were still piled up, a big stack just as he had left it unfortunately. Alfred held his face in his hands and stared at the desk. Arthur's voice was so close. Yet, it was nowhere close enough.

That had been happening to him quite often now. That voice would always play in his mind. Of course, he knew Arthur wasn't there.

Just the thought that Arthur could've been there was what made Alfred's stomach twist. Every time he heard Arthur's voice, or saw Arthur, his heart broke. Over and over again. It was almost like losing him repeatedly.

It just never hurt as much as it did the first time.

----

Each day seemed to last a little longer than before. When it was finally nine o' clock, Alfred literally jumped out of his seat and clocked out. He didn't want Matthew to worry. He didn't even have the chance to call and tell the boy he was going to be awhile.

Rushing to his car he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. Ten missed calls and five text messages from Francis. The blond rolled his eyes and sped off towards his house.

Alfred knew he shouldn't worry about Matthew. After all, Matthew knew how to take care of himself. But he couldn't help it.

He drove down the streets, ignoring the speed limits until he finally found himself in the drive way. The American quickly got out of the car, slamming the door and locking it before running up to the door. He was about to unlock it when the door swung open. He was greeted by two, obviously worried, amethyst eyes.

"I-I'm so sorry, Mattie. I'm sorry," Alfred apologized as he caught his breath and pulled his brother into a hug. The younger led him inside and shook his head.

"It's alright, Alfred. You hungry? I made hamburgers."

Still holding tightly onto his younger brother he gave a weak smile.

"That sounds great."