There was nothing unusual about the room at first. Arthur was now sitting up, his head turned to stare out of the window, which had been left partially open. There was nothing odd about the way he watched the curtains flutter, and yet Alfred found something painfully sad about it. He stepped inside, using his body to shut the door behind him and carefully approached the bed.
Arthur kept his gaze fixed on the curtains, not noticing, or perhaps not acknowledging, Alfred’s presence. What made him look like that? Like a bird in a cage that was too tight.
Alfred shook his head of his troubling thoughts. “Arthur!” he spoke loudly and clearly, announcing his presence. “What’s this about you not eating? Don’t try to tell me that you’re not hungry, you must be starving!”
He placed the tray on his bedside table, pushing it forward as if tempting a stray cat to eat.
Arthur spared a glance at the tray, then one at Alfred, his expression remaining thoroughly neutral.
“I’m not hungry,” he spoke in a monotone.
“Bullshit!” Alfred swore on impulse before correcting himself, keeping his anger in check. “Please eat something. You need to eat something,” he gently begged, hoping that his concern would be enough to compel him to eat. Arthur was thin, he realised as he surveyed him. He had always been a little on the skinny side but never skeletal, which would be the way he would be going if he decided to keep on refusing food.
Arthur wrinkled his nose. The first expression Alfred had seen passed over his face; it was one of disgust.
“That woman brought that to me, didn’t she? I don’t want it. Not that disgusting food a human prepared,” he said. For all his blatant displeasure, his tone still remained coldly monotonous.
“What?” Alfred stared. Surely he could not have heard that right.
“Get rid of her. I don’t want to see a human.”
Alfred smiled. This was a joke, right? There was no way a day would ever come when Arthur could speak so coldly. “Arthur what are you saying? You’re a nation, you know? Yeah, people can get really annoying but you – we – we live for our people.”
His smile dropped when Arthur looked at him. No, this was not a joke. He was completely serious.
Alfred swallowed, trying to recover his voice. “If I get Francis – If France makes you something, will you eat it?” he asked. Right now, the most important thing was to make sure that Arthur’s body at least was healthy. “I’ll go tell him to cook you something. Don’t worry, there won’t be any snails in it,” he laughed uneasily
His exit could not have been any quicker and Arthur did not seem to mourn the loss of his company. He simply leaned against the pillows propped up behind him and stared through the window again.
Once out of the room Alfred finally let his shaky composure fall to pieces. He ran a hand through his hand as he wondered just how this had happened. He was at an utter loss as to what was going on or what would happen now.
“Master Jones, was he okay? I’m so scared that he’ll end up starving!” He looked up to see Marianne’s worried face peeking at him.
Alfred bit his lip. Marianne had no notion of who they really were and even if she had known he could not bring himself to tell her the truth; that the person she had been caring for while unconscious despised her.
“...No, don’t worry, he was just being stubborn.”
Marianne sighed and smiled. “That’s a relief! Well then, Master, I have corridors to clean.”
“Thanks for all your hard work,” he whispered and waved at her as she went.
As soon as she was gone he punched the wall, ignoring the sharp sting of pain that raced down his knuckles. Even a hero needed to punch something every now and then lest they exploded with frustration. Therefore, Alfred buried his fist into the unsympathetic wall and sorry for the pieces of plaster Marianne would have to sweep from the floor.
Re: If you find me...[8/?]
There was nothing unusual about the room at first. Arthur was now sitting up, his head turned to stare out of the window, which had been left partially open. There was nothing odd about the way he watched the curtains flutter, and yet Alfred found something painfully sad about it. He stepped inside, using his body to shut the door behind him and carefully approached the bed.
Arthur kept his gaze fixed on the curtains, not noticing, or perhaps not acknowledging, Alfred’s presence. What made him look like that? Like a bird in a cage that was too tight.
Alfred shook his head of his troubling thoughts. “Arthur!” he spoke loudly and clearly, announcing his presence. “What’s this about you not eating? Don’t try to tell me that you’re not hungry, you must be starving!”
He placed the tray on his bedside table, pushing it forward as if tempting a stray cat to eat.
Arthur spared a glance at the tray, then one at Alfred, his expression remaining thoroughly neutral.
“I’m not hungry,” he spoke in a monotone.
“Bullshit!” Alfred swore on impulse before correcting himself, keeping his anger in check. “Please eat something. You need to eat something,” he gently begged, hoping that his concern would be enough to compel him to eat. Arthur was thin, he realised as he surveyed him. He had always been a little on the skinny side but never skeletal, which would be the way he would be going if he decided to keep on refusing food.
Arthur wrinkled his nose. The first expression Alfred had seen passed over his face; it was one of disgust.
“That woman brought that to me, didn’t she? I don’t want it. Not that disgusting food a human prepared,” he said. For all his blatant displeasure, his tone still remained coldly monotonous.
“What?” Alfred stared. Surely he could not have heard that right.
“Get rid of her. I don’t want to see a human.”
Alfred smiled. This was a joke, right? There was no way a day would ever come when Arthur could speak so coldly. “Arthur what are you saying? You’re a nation, you know? Yeah, people can get really annoying but you – we – we live for our people.”
His smile dropped when Arthur looked at him. No, this was not a joke. He was completely serious.
Alfred swallowed, trying to recover his voice. “If I get Francis – If France makes you something, will you eat it?” he asked. Right now, the most important thing was to make sure that Arthur’s body at least was healthy. “I’ll go tell him to cook you something. Don’t worry, there won’t be any snails in it,” he laughed uneasily
His exit could not have been any quicker and Arthur did not seem to mourn the loss of his company. He simply leaned against the pillows propped up behind him and stared through the window again.
Once out of the room Alfred finally let his shaky composure fall to pieces. He ran a hand through his hand as he wondered just how this had happened. He was at an utter loss as to what was going on or what would happen now.
“Master Jones, was he okay? I’m so scared that he’ll end up starving!” He looked up to see Marianne’s worried face peeking at him.
Alfred bit his lip. Marianne had no notion of who they really were and even if she had known he could not bring himself to tell her the truth; that the person she had been caring for while unconscious despised her.
“...No, don’t worry, he was just being stubborn.”
Marianne sighed and smiled. “That’s a relief! Well then, Master, I have corridors to clean.”
“Thanks for all your hard work,” he whispered and waved at her as she went.
As soon as she was gone he punched the wall, ignoring the sharp sting of pain that raced down his knuckles. Even a hero needed to punch something every now and then lest they exploded with frustration. Therefore, Alfred buried his fist into the unsympathetic wall and sorry for the pieces of plaster Marianne would have to sweep from the floor.