The heat from the shower was suffocating. The hot, heavy air cascaded around their bodies like a second skin. The steam surrounded the bathroom like a foreboding fog, rising up to the ceiling and slipping out from under the crack of the door. Heavy drops of humidity ran down the mirror before dripping onto sparkling white porcelain only to collect on the floor.
Alfred wasn't aware of any of it, only his lips against the crook of Arthur's neck and the flexible body molding around his waist. The water dribbled down their bodies, movements shifting with wet friction. Arthur tightened his legs around his waist, letting out a desperate pant for air against the spray of the water.
The Brit's fingers curled into the wet locks, gently nudging Alfred's head toward his collar bone. Alfred seemed to get the hint and growled lowly in his throat, his lips fastened to the area, and dragged his teeth over it.
Arthur's toes curled; he was desperate, lost in the abyss of sexual frustration and desire. He had been needing this. He needed the closeness between them, he needed to feel alive. He needed to survive, to move on and get over the hurt from the past.
He knew that it was all a ruse, but Arthur couldn't help from wanting deep down for it to be real. At least on his part, because now there was no doubt in his mind that Alfred's intentions were true.
Alfred's fingers dug into the pale flesh of Arthur's backside, holding him up effortlessly against the wall and shielded his body from the cooling water. Even though the temperature in the shower had dropped, the heat inside his head rose.
The American's mind was racing. Should he stay and give in to his poisonous fantasy, or should he leave; go to Ludwig who was waiting for him patiently at a coffee shop down the street?
Everything was too confusing and Alfred couldn't help but grit his teeth and snarl in frustration. Arthur felt himself shiver with lust at the animal-like sound, lost in his desire. He wanted to whine, to beg for Alfred to do anything to relieve his aching vital regions, but he held his tongue.
The sound of the door opening and bags being dropped to the floor alerted the two of another's presence. "Alfred?" A voice called out, "Arthur, are you here?"
"Fuck, Mattie." Alfred hissed, he began to set the smaller man in his arms down, but Arthur latched on tightly and shook his head.
"Tell him to go away, this is our time." He couldn't let Alfred slip away from his grasp, not when he was pulling him in, not when he was so close.
"No, we can do this later, I... I'm not doing this with him in the next room, that's awkward, man."
"Feh, you want to know what's going to be awkward? Walking out of this bathroom with a giant hard on, that's what."
"Whatever, dude," Alfred didn't want to listen. He had to get out of that stuffy bathroom. He couldn't stand how dizzy the steam was making him; he needed air. "I'm getting out."
"Are you serious?" Arthur was putting off the shock, not wanting to believe that there was something Alfred wasn't going to do for him. That wasn't right, it couldn't be that way. He needed Alfred to be twisted around his finger, he needed that control. He needed control and stability.
In hindsight, Arthur really shouldn't have thought Alfred would be the best choice for predictability and stability. The boy was as wild and untamed as the wind. Nobody could hold him down… they had tried, but the boy would always get right back up and bend the bars trying to close him in.
Alfred set the other down gently, making sure he was standing firmly on the slippery floor before moving the curtain and peered back over his shoulder. "Yeah, I'm serious." Arthur watched with a bewildered, annoyed face as the man wrapped a towel around his waist and sauntered away, opening the door and disappearing out of it, fading with the escaping heat and mist.
APHAPHAPHAPHAPHAPHAPHAPH
Ludwig checked his watch once again. Time was ticking by slowly. He had made sure to get there early, like he always did. He knew from previous experience that Alfred was always fashionably late for meetings, dates, and the such, but really, what could be taking this long?
Had he changed his mind?
No, no he couldn't have.
He'd come. He would.
He had to.
Ludwig tapped his foot vigorously against the cement under his shoe, counting the seconds as they ticked by. People passing by gave him curious looks, but kept to themselves, not wanting to disrupt the miffed German from his stewing.
It was chilly out and he could see many people dressed in jackets and scarves. He had on gloves and a wind breaker himself, but he wasn't really fazed by the cold. The anxiousness heated his body like soup or a good cup of hot chocolate.
Even a good beer would warm his veins.
He was brought out of his musings when a horrid hacking noise came from beside him. A man coughed harshly into his hand, leaning over his small table as he clutched his chest trying to breathe for air. It seemed to be impossible to inhale any of it and Ludwig could swear he saw a speck of blood fly from the mans mouth. He tumbled to the ground and the table tipped with him, the large, closed umbrella fell out of its holder and rolled, resting near Ludwig's now still foot.
The German stood, his chair sliding back as he rushed over. He knelt near the man and made sure to tug the collar of his shirt over his nose to avoid any germs that could be coughed on his face. "Are you alright? Do you want any help?"
"H-sspi-lll."
"What?"
"Getmmmee t-ta hhhhoooossss-" more blood rolled down the mans stubbled chin as he rolled onto this back, chest heaving for air. "Hosspi-llll. I ne-hos-tall. Hospi-t-tal."
"Okay, alright, just hold on, okay?" Ludwig pulled out his phone and dialled the emergency number. He quickly hung up though, realizing the number for America's was different from the one at his home. His mind raced as he thought. Ludwig attempted to remember, fumbling through every memory of him and Alfred and he could not recall one telling him the emergency phone number.
Ludwig noticed a woman walking by quickly, trying to zoom past the scene and he grabbed the hem of her coat. "Please, ma'am, what is the number for medical emergencies?"
"911! Are you retarded?" The woman yanked her clothing from Germany's hand and practically ran away. "Creep!"
Ludwig was astounded, how could somebody just walk by and ignore this poor man dying on the street? The reasons eluded him, but he quickly typed the number in and gave 911 dispatcher all the information he could give and hung up.
The man was shaking, the blood trickling out the corner of his mouth was becoming a frothy pink and Ludwig stepped back, knowing this man had some strange type of disease, rabies maybe. He couldn't catch it of course, but it would be unpleasant to be bitten, none the less.
Sirens rang down the street, growing louder as they approached. The stranger convulsed, his body jerking suddenly on the ground. The paper he had been reading earlier was stained red as he smeared his face over it.
And then, as quickly as it had started, it stopped. The man grew still. He didn't move at all. Not a twitch, not a shake, and not a breath.
The ambulance pulled up and the paramedics leapt out of the back, rushing to the homeless person laying on the street. With a few sad shakes of the head, fingers to a non-existent pulse, Ludwig's assumptions were confirmed. The man was dead.
Walking back slowly to the hotel he managed to see Alfred tear out of the building, trying to pull on his coat and gloves on at the same time. The American caught sight of him as well because he slowed to a stop and looked ashamed.
Ludwig continued to walk at the same pace to the still American until they stood face to face. "I'm sorry I'm late," he said, blue eyes studied him from behind Texas, and Ludwig merely sighed.
"It was to be expected." Alfred opened his mouth to say something but the words failed him. He stood on his toes as he tried to see over Ludwig's shoulder.
"What happened over there?"
Ludwig didn't have to turn to see what Alfred was talking about. Instead, he continued his trek back to the hotel. "A man died, that's all."
"What? How?" Alfred looked a little surprised. One of his citizens was now gone, and he was just around the corner. He could have done something, right?
"He was sick." Ludwig waited for Alfred to join him, but he found the boy was too entranced watching the gurney being lifted into the vehicle. "You wouldn't have been able to help, even if you were there."
"... I know..." The response was sad, Ludwig could hear the unsaid 'but I could have done SOMETHING'."
Feeling brave, he laced his frozen fingers with Alfred's, feeling their warmth through his gloves. Ludwig had thrown his out after they were tainted with the strangers blood. Alfred twitched, seeming uncomfortable with the contact, but he didn't pull away and Ludwig felt like that was a weak victory.
Together they walked back into the hotel lobby and made their way up the elevator. Alfred knew where they were going, and he was slightly afraid; but he didn't resist, and he didn't say no.
"Ivan's gone."
"Hm?" Alfred looked at Germany questionably.
"Ivan went back to his hell hole." Alfred let out a quiet 'ah' and nodded his head at Ludwig's harsh comment. The German had been furious when he found out what had happened when he left. But then again, he was grateful. Ivan ruining his chances meant there was one less person to compete with and made the odds even more in his favor.
Alfred seemed to grow more uncomfortable by the second, uncertainty obviously clouding his mind and darting behind his blue eyes. Ludwig traced his knuckles lightly with a padded thumb, the heated material of Alfred's gloves betrayed his sweating palms.
Ludwig looked down, kindness and concern laced his face. "What's wrong?"
"I don't know what I'm doing anymore."
"No?"
"I was so sure... I had everything planned out. I would go get that happily ever after. But... there isn't one is there?" He voice caught, the distraught words hung in the quiet box of the elevator. "There's no happy ending, no true love, its all fairy tales. We're just... fake."
"... Ja." The confirmation of Alfred's fears wasn't what he wanted to hear, Ludwig knew, but it was needed. Alfred needed to realize dreams were just that. Dreams. "Do you know the difference between goals and dreams?"
Alfred peered up, finally taking his sad eyes off the floor. "What?"
"Dreams are hopes, fantasies that people imagine, things people work towards, but the difference is that goals are met. Dreams aren't. If you ever get your 'dream', it never was one. Just another goal. A dream is something you want but can't have."
"The world is filled with too many dreams," Alfred sighed, leaning back against the wall.
"Ja, but there are a lot of goals to be reached too. You never know the difference until you succeed." Alfred thought about that for a moment. His blue eyes focused on his favorite speck on the elevator floor.
A small, hopeful smile lit up the small space they were trapped in and Ludwig felt he had made a huge success. "You know... you were my goal once, right?"
"And now...?"
Alfred's fingers entwined with the thick digits of Ludwig's hand. "I'm not sure what I want anymore."
"You never really do."
"Yeah, but I know what my options are. That's sorta helpful."
"So... I'm an option?" Ludwig suppressed the anger rising in his gut.
"The better one."
"I would hope so."
Alfred nodded, but it didn't feel honest. It felt dirty. The whole thing did, and Alfred couldn't find a way to wash it. The little room felt like a trap, like Arthur was watching him on some small camera hidden in the walls, observing his unfaithfulness.
The box lurched to a stop and Alfred left his stomach go with it. The doors slid open and Alfred rushed out. Ludwig, more collected, followed.
"Are you going to your room, or would you come back to mine?"
Alfred stood there before the closed elevator doors, the hallway stretching in two directions. One way led to Arthur and the other to Ludwig.
The German waited patiently for an answer, but the suspense was killing him.
What would Alfred chose?
Alfred thought about his options, but nothing helped. Arthur had said he wanted a relationship, Ludwig said so as well. But which could be trusted? Which one led to happiness? Which to heartbreak? Which was a goal and which was a dream?
Too many questions. Too many for Alfred's swimming head.
So when a cold, kind hand reached out from the shadows with a caring smile, Alfred took it and stepped even further into the darkness where the demons hide.