Arthur was concerned, Francis worried. They talked between themselves about the other, letting their worry touch their tones. Neither had seen him or heard of him seeing anyone else. He would answer emails, and video chats were few and far between. Eventually Arthur mentioned their lunch that day and Francis grew more thoughtful, a frown marring his features. “Arthur… You do realize, it is very odd for him to dash off to the rest room right after eating?” He didn’t want to answer. He slowly nodded all the same, reluctant to think where this was going. “And skip dessert,” he added. This time Francis was the one to nod.
The two discussed it for a while longer, snapping at each other from time to time, but for the most part getting along. They needed to figure out what to do. It seemed farfetched, really, to think that such a confident and ‘Heroic’ man would fall to that… But then, as Francis reminded him, wasn’t it opinions like that that led men to hide these kinds of things? And wouldn’t Alfred be just the one to do that? He prided himself on being strong and this was a weakness. He wouldn’t want anyone to know. So Arthur set out to get to the bottom of it all. He made a call or two, setting things up before he called Alfred as well. “Hnn.. Hi?” he answered groggily, his voice a little rough from disuse overnight.
“Hello, Alfred. How’ve you been? Up all night playing games, I’ll assume.” A quick glance at his clock had told him it was around 4:30pm for Alfred. He shouldn’t be sleeping in so late.
“Fine. Hah, you’re funny. I was getting work done, believe it or not.” Why was Arthur even calling?
“Oh? Well, that’s good. I’ll assume you’ve finished a good bit of it if you’re sleeping this late.”
“Yeah… Um, Arthur, did you need something?” he asked confusedly. It was the first time he’d managed to sleep well in the last week or so and he wanted to take advantage of it.
“Yes, actually. I’ll be in the States tomorrow and I’m afraid something went wrong when they booked my room. I was hoping that you could be of service…?” He was rather proud of his plan. Get into Alfred’s home, glance around and tell himself it was all a misunderstanding, and go home. What more was there to it?
Alfred paused, freaking out for a second. He ignored the fact that if things were normal as he said then there wouldn’t be anything worth worrying about. “Uh- Yeah! No problem! I’ll have something situated by the time you get here.”
“Lovely. Well, I suppose you’ll want to be getting back to sleep. Thank you for your help.”
“Yup, later.” Another yawn and he hung up.
Arthur’s plan was a bust. When he landed things went as usual. Too usual. In the end he found himself in the suit of a locally owned, fancy-schmancy hotel. His expression was sour as he sipped on his complimentary champagne (champagne!) and called Francis. “I haven’t seen him,” he said simply, skipping formality.
“None? He hasn’t even said hello?”
“None.”
Next came into action their second plan. Arthur arrived in front of Alfred’s home the next afternoon, waving on the cab. He was going to talk to him one way or another. He knocked at the door but no one answered. Waiting, he knocked again. Eventually he called him.
“What? Aw, sorry about that. I’m out, probably won’t be back ‘til this evening,” he explained. He was sitting in his office chair. He hated lying, but it just sort of… spilled out. He wouldn’t let anyone know.
“Ah… Alright then. Well, I was just hoping to invite you to dinner. Francis will be there as well, and he mentioned that you hadn’t spoken for a time.”
Alfred squirmed, trying to figure a way out of this. “You know… I’m going to have to give you a rain check on that.”
Another plan failed. What to do next?
((And I’ll end here since I’m getting a little too tired to write. I’m not sure if this will have a paring, but I can say it’s more likely that it’ll be UKUS instead of FrUS. Much as I love them both I worry about my representation of Francis. So, ‘til tomorrow my lovely readers! :)
Is this really your first fanfic? I couldn't even tell, honestly. If you're this good already, then I do sincerely hope you stay in the fandom ;D
Poor Alfred... So hard on himself. But there is hope! I like how both Francis and Arthur are on his case. Your portrayal of what happens when a person is anorexic is pretty spot on.
This will certainly be interesting, can't wait to see where it goes =]
This is really good and I wouldn't have thought it's your first fanfic. You do great! :)
Alfred really knows how to hide, doesn't he? Oh poor boy, you need help. I hope Arthur and Francis will come up with another plan that eventually works.
I really like how this is progressing so far. When you started I didn't realize it was your first fill at all. It's going well. Keep up the good work. I look forward to the next part.
Wow, I'm sorry! I know I promised to post more often but school is taking everyhing out of me (So much writing!) and I'm feeling a little under the weather. I thought I'd let you all know I'm out here and I'm trying to get something typed up, but at the moment I've only managed three sentences... Again, sorry! And hopefully more will be on its way soon ^^'
((Well folks, this isn't as long as I'd hoped to make chapter four, but since I've not been able to type anything up for a few days I Was itching to get back at it since I finished a few things! School's getting more under control so let's all hope it stays that way and I can get more written up soon(tomorrow maybe!)Ugh. College. Anyway, here you go!))
"Alfred?!"
"Wha…?"
It was four am in the US. Hardly the time for any kind of call that wasn't an emergency. Pity for Alfred that Arthur thought this was one. Avoidance was bad enough, but he was going on four months of no one seeing the other nation, and that in and of itself was strange. Here was a man who so typically enjoyed traveling, visiting others, at the very least convincing them to get on the computer so that they could chat on webcam. And now he was flat our refusing, excuses at every corner. And that was why he decided on a call first thing in the morning. Worst of all, Alfred hardly sounded as if he'd been asleep ten minutes, though he also sounded exhausted.
Alfred hadn't been, and was just as tired as Arthur supposed. Everything yo-yoed between more difficult and easier. Sometimes the feelings of being hungry faded entirely, or were at least a dull gnawing, easy to ignore. Other times they were sharp and terrible. He'd found himself eating celery, supposedly having no calories and a high water content. It gave him vitamins, was healthy… What was the problem? He didn't have a problem, no siree. He was on a diet and doing damn well.
"Alfred?!" he heard again, blinking a few times.
"Will you quit yelling in my ear? Man, it's… It's four?! Why are you calling?"
'You keep falling asleep', Arthur though irritably but refrained from saying anything. "Oh, is it? Silly me, forgetting those time zones. Such a nuisance. Tell me Alfred, how've you been lately?"
He stared at the glow of his phone in the dim room for a few moments before holding it back to his ear. "Uh… I'm cool. Yup. Arthur… Dude, are you drunk or something?"
"Excuse me?! What are- Ahem. No.. Sorry, no. I'm not. It's far too early to be drinking anyway."
"Okaaay…" Alfred was officially weirder out. Arthur was acting nothing like himself. "Then what's wrong with you? Did something happen and you're calling for help or…" He trailed off in a loud, jaw cracking yawn that left Arthur feeling guilty.
If he's really that tired… No. "Me? Nothing's wrong with me. I just hadn't heard anything from you in a while and I thought I'd check up on you. Can't have any harm coming to a superpower, hm?"
"Yeah, exactly. I can't get hurt. Man, Arthur, you're acting really weird. I'm gonna go back to bed if you didn't just bash your head off the wall or something else dumb. I'll talk to you later." His tone was much snippier than usual, strange for someone so terribly (irritatingly) optimistic. And before Arthur knew it his phone was beeping to let him know the other caller had hung up before going silent. He sighed as he looked at the brick like phone Alfred had gifted him, the worry that continued to eat away at him only increasing. Something was most definitely wrong.
"Please, Egnland hush. You're going to burst my eardrum."
"Do you care at all?" he hissed, clearly on edge, about to snap at one wrong word or move.
"Of course I care! But one of us has to keep a- cool head? Calm? Whatever the term, or Alfred won't be getting any help." There. He'd admitted it. Francis had finally admitted the fact that even he thought the American needed help.
There was a long, almost painfully silent pause in which Arthur seemed as if he would retaliate before he heaved a sigh and slumped in his seat. "I never realize how good that boy was at hiding…" he mumbled.
"Arthur… He's not a boy. He's a young man and knowing him as I do I highly doubt he can see what he's doing to himself, whatever that may be."
"I know Francis, I know. Dammit.. That's exactly what I'm afraid of." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ They had every right to be afraid for Alfred's safety.
He woke up and rolled over, bleary eyed and tired, but unable to sleep. 6:16 glared back at him from the green glow of his clock.
It was another hour before he would roll out of bed, an hour of moments spent attempting to relax, and cursing his body for the never ending frustration of waking up hungry.
He shuffled out of bed, socks, sweatpants, a long sleeve shirt, and slippers in place of what used to be only boxers because he was so warm. Now he missed those days, always cold.
He glared at his reflection as he brushed his teeth under the harsh bathroom lighting. Gone was the smiles, however sleepy, the faint tan of time spend outside, or even the handsome sheen of healthy hair. He hated his reflection. Truly hated what stared back at him. Dull blue eyes. Sallow skin, pocked with acne. He poked his cheek after he'd spit and rinsed, pinching the fat on his jaw. It wasn't fat, only skin. He'd lost the youthful baby fat that had still resided on his face, now replaced with an ill looking man. He looked older than he had. He wouldn't glare at the rest of his body, that came later in the day before he showered. He spared himself that grievance in his morning routine.
Next came breakfast. He made his way downstairs, yawning again and wondering if he could go back to bed. (He never did. Couldn't sleep. Could only lay there and poke at pockets of fat or overthink everything he'd ever done. It was getting to him. He munched on his celery. Crunching. Crunching… And broke. This was nothing new. He 'broke' often enough. This lack of willpower was part of why he hated himself. The crunching was no longer of the celery, but a chocolate chip cookie. A test to his willpower which he'd failed.
Next came the exercise. To punish himself for his earlier slipup he forced himself into the pool. He used to dearly love swimming, but being so cold… Well, cold water was less than pleasant. And that was when he froze. Not from the water of course, but the unwelcome slam of his front door.
"Alfred? …Alfred?!"
Why was Arthur at his house? "Alfreeed?" And Francis?! He quickly scrambled form the pool, drying and getting dressed as he tried to decide what to do. Had his boss sent them? He hadn't been getting any work done… But it was impossible to focus lately. "Shit.." he muttered under his breath, pacing by the pool.
"Alfred?" His voice was softer but the man in question jumped all the same, turning to the door with wide eyes to see Francis. He offered a wide grin and a small wave, making no move to get any closer. And how strange he must've looked, hair wet and fully dressed, pacing by the pool. "Yes… It's too cold outside. Come in, Arthur and I came all this way to see you!" he said with false cheer, filling the silence caused by Alfred's lack of words, turning and calling inside to let Arthur know that he'd been found.
"We're staying for a few days," he continued on with the same cheer as he forcibly drug Alfred inside who was in no shape to fight it. Francis tried not to cringe at the boney wrist in his grip.
Well shit. "Oh… Yeah? That's..cool! I've not had anyone over in a while!" He slowly found his normal tone of voice, something he'd rarely had to use these last few months.
Arthur felt sick when he saw what Francis was dragging inside. Alfred. His poor, poor Alfred, was so… "Honestly now, what were you doing outside with your hair wet? You'll catch cold," he scolded gently, much to Alfred's bewilderment. "I was just… swimming?" he answered, clearly confused. "Yes, yes. Well, come on then. Need to get you dried off." And Arthur needed to do something mundane so that he and Francis had a chance to organize their thoughts. This was nothing like they expected. This was… Who was this? This wasn't the Alfred he knew. This imposter had none of his boisterous energy, potent charm and happiness. And Arthur missed that. He felt a twinge at the fact it was gone, sitting Alfred on the commode lid with no protest and gently, caringly rubbing his hair dry with a towel. No one knew what to say it seemed.
((Back from finals and a lack of creativity! But poor Al isn't doing so well... I hope to write a longer chapter soon, and beware of typos due to my phone!))
Francis left Alfred and Arthur to the upstairs bathroom as he rummaged through the kitchen. Sitting down over a small meal, that would surely help ease a bit of the awkwardness. (And it would give him something to do with his hands as he processed the oddly quiet, ill looking individual that had seemingly replaced the beloved superpower they'd been hoping to find.)
What he found in the kitchen left him feeling as ill as Arthur had looked at the sight of the American. The counters were scarily clean. Everything was. and the cabinets... Low fat this, carb free that. It made sense if he'd been dieting, but the issue was that packages were left unopened, crackers looked stale and untouched and where one would normally find typical daily items in the fridge, milk, eggs, some sort of meat or protein for meals; he found celery in bulk, bottled water, an ungodly amount of coffee grounds, and one half used onion that was well on its way to becoming sentient. Where Arthur had been struck by the state of his lack of personal grooming, Francis was hit by the full situation when he saw the true state of Alfred's kitchen.
Slowly he made his way upstairs, steps creaking under each footstep as he heard the gentle murmur of Arthur speaking with Alfred. There was no doubting he'd been hit with the severity, his normal sarcastic nature gone in favor of something almost maternal. He leaned against the doorway and just watched as Arthur coaxed, didn't force or demand but coaxed Alfred to turn this way and that as he washed his hair in the sink for some unfathomable reason.
"No- No, now stop that. Alfred, hush and relax, if you raise your head you'll hit the spigot." His tone was caring as he massaged the foam through Alfred's hair, glancing to Francis when he noticed him. "He wouldn't take a shower, but he reeked of chlorine," he explained, tutting as Alfred tried to shift again, though for the most part he seemed complacent if not overwhelming tired. It only served to worry Francis farther.
"Ah..." he said slowly, nodding. "Perhaps you should take a warm shower, Alfred?" he suggested, though he didn't move from the doorway. The grunt from the sink wasn't pleased, obviously a no. "Perhaps later. While you two finish up with this, I'm going to head out for a short while," he explained carefully.
At first Alfred noticed nothing amiss, though he didn't want to shower. That came later in the day, when he had enough strength (mentally) to deal with the flood of disgust that came with the sight of his unclothed body.
"Where to?" Arthur wondered, sending him a curious, if not irritated look.
"To do a little shopping. It seemed like you hadn't had a chance to do any this week, and if Arthur and I are to stay over we certainly can't go without food-"
"You- Fuck!" Alfred had jerked, hitting his head off the spigot as promised and causing Arthur to take a startled step back at the unexpected anger behind the curse. It only increased as he turned to look at Francis, his hair plastered to his head and dripping messily all over him and the floor. He held the back of his head with one hand, glaring accusingly at Francis. "You went through my kitchen! What the hell?!"
"Alfred, I've done it almost every time I come over-" Francis tried to speak gently, but it was to no avail. Alfred's mood had easily flipped, and he hardly seemed in control at the moment.
"You don't just go to a guy's house without warning and go through his kitchen! My house, not yours!"
Arthur had listened to enough and stepped forward, placing his hand on Alfred's shoulder in an iron grip. "Alfred," he snapped, earning himself a furious glare that wilted just a bit under the one he received in return. He wasn't afraid of Arthur, but the look he was getting- God, that man could terrorize a grizzly. "Alfred Jones, you have no right to be acting like this, and I expect you to calm yourself right now."
This had been the wrong thing to say. Alfred's momentary falter was quickly corrected, his anger turned on Arthur as he jerked away from him. "What? What's this? You wanna act like a parent?" he said, his tone as vehemently hateful as his words would become. "Get over it! You weren't any parent," he spat. "And you sure as hell aren't one now. Just a drunk, crazy pirate who's ego got too big so he went and fucked it all up and lost all of his precious 'treasure!'" His words were mocking and hateful, and in the moment there wasn't a single filter in place.
Arthur stared in wide eyed shock as Alfred stomped from the room, actually shoving Francis out of his way. He yelled for them to get out before his bedroom door slammed shut with strength enough to rattle pictures on the walls downstairs.
"He..." "Yes... Yes, he did."
Obviously neither knew what to say. Francis stepped into the room and turned off the water before he led Arthur downstairs to show him the kitchen, both of them missing the sound of faint sobs coming from Alfred's bedroom at the end of the hall.
He felt like shit. All of that that he'd said- They were hateful, cutting words and he'd had no reason for them. He'd let his temper get away from him, something he rarely did, and especially not like this... And not over something so small! "I can't even be nice to them..." he muttered into his pillow as he let out another choked sob, wanting a way to punish himself for his hateful words, cruel tone. Instead he let himself lay there and wallow in self pity that only increased self loathing. He hoped they'd be angry with him and leave. Leave him alone and not come back, because he deserved it. After talking like that? Why would he deserve anything even remotely kind?
I think I've finally solved my delema as far as a paring goes. But I thought I'd ask first, how do you feel about FrUKUS? Now, as far as anyone actually getting together goes that wont be for a little while more. But I thought I'd settle it all now so that I know what direction to take :) The story line will be the same for the most part either way, so it's entirely up to preference.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Re: Carb free isnt enough. 3a/?
(Anonymous) 2013-03-27 08:25 am (UTC)(link)The two discussed it for a while longer, snapping at each other from time to time, but for the most part getting along. They needed to figure out what to do. It seemed farfetched, really, to think that such a confident and ‘Heroic’ man would fall to that… But then, as Francis reminded him, wasn’t it opinions like that that led men to hide these kinds of things? And wouldn’t Alfred be just the one to do that? He prided himself on being strong and this was a weakness. He wouldn’t want anyone to know. So Arthur set out to get to the bottom of it all. He made a call or two, setting things up before he called Alfred as well.
“Hnn.. Hi?” he answered groggily, his voice a little rough from disuse overnight.
“Hello, Alfred. How’ve you been? Up all night playing games, I’ll assume.” A quick glance at his clock had told him it was around 4:30pm for Alfred. He shouldn’t be sleeping in so late.
“Fine. Hah, you’re funny. I was getting work done, believe it or not.” Why was Arthur even calling?
“Oh? Well, that’s good. I’ll assume you’ve finished a good bit of it if you’re sleeping this late.”
“Yeah… Um, Arthur, did you need something?” he asked confusedly. It was the first time he’d managed to sleep well in the last week or so and he wanted to take advantage of it.
“Yes, actually. I’ll be in the States tomorrow and I’m afraid something went wrong when they booked my room. I was hoping that you could be of service…?” He was rather proud of his plan. Get into Alfred’s home, glance around and tell himself it was all a misunderstanding, and go home. What more was there to it?
Alfred paused, freaking out for a second. He ignored the fact that if things were normal as he said then there wouldn’t be anything worth worrying about. “Uh- Yeah! No problem! I’ll have something situated by the time you get here.”
“Lovely. Well, I suppose you’ll want to be getting back to sleep. Thank you for your help.”
“Yup, later.” Another yawn and he hung up.
Arthur’s plan was a bust. When he landed things went as usual. Too usual. In the end he found himself in the suit of a locally owned, fancy-schmancy hotel. His expression was sour as he sipped on his complimentary champagne (champagne!) and called Francis. “I haven’t seen him,” he said simply, skipping formality.
“None? He hasn’t even said hello?”
“None.”
Next came into action their second plan. Arthur arrived in front of Alfred’s home the next afternoon, waving on the cab. He was going to talk to him one way or another. He knocked at the door but no one answered. Waiting, he knocked again. Eventually he called him.
“What? Aw, sorry about that. I’m out, probably won’t be back ‘til this evening,” he explained. He was sitting in his office chair. He hated lying, but it just sort of… spilled out. He wouldn’t let anyone know.
“Ah… Alright then. Well, I was just hoping to invite you to dinner. Francis will be there as well, and he mentioned that you hadn’t spoken for a time.”
Alfred squirmed, trying to figure a way out of this. “You know… I’m going to have to give you a rain check on that.”
Another plan failed. What to do next?
((And I’ll end here since I’m getting a little too tired to write. I’m not sure if this will have a paring, but I can say it’s more likely that it’ll be UKUS instead of FrUS. Much as I love them both I worry about my representation of Francis. So, ‘til tomorrow my lovely readers! :)
OP!
(Anonymous) 2013-03-27 10:24 am (UTC)(link)Poor Alfred... So hard on himself. But there is hope! I like how both Francis and Arthur are on his case. Your portrayal of what happens when a person is anorexic is pretty spot on.
This will certainly be interesting, can't wait to see where it goes =]
Re: Carb free isnt enough. 3a/?
(Anonymous) 2013-03-27 11:31 am (UTC)(link)Alfred really knows how to hide, doesn't he? Oh poor boy, you need help. I hope Arthur and Francis will come up with another plan that eventually works.
Re: Carb free isnt enough. 3a/?
(Anonymous) 2013-03-28 11:59 pm (UTC)(link)I'm sure he will, he's England, after all.
I really like how this is progressing so far. When you started I didn't realize it was your first fill at all. It's going well. Keep up the good work. I look forward to the next part.
AA Apology
(Anonymous) 2013-04-07 06:51 am (UTC)(link)Carb free isnt enough 4
(Anonymous) 2013-04-08 08:37 am (UTC)(link)"Alfred?!"
"Wha…?"
It was four am in the US. Hardly the time for any kind of call that wasn't an emergency. Pity for Alfred that Arthur thought this was one. Avoidance was bad enough, but he was going on four months of no one seeing the other nation, and that in and of itself was strange. Here was a man who so typically enjoyed traveling, visiting others, at the very least convincing them to get on the computer so that they could chat on webcam. And now he was flat our refusing, excuses at every corner. And that was why he decided on a call first thing in the morning. Worst of all, Alfred hardly sounded as if he'd been asleep ten minutes, though he also sounded exhausted.
Alfred hadn't been, and was just as tired as Arthur supposed. Everything yo-yoed between more difficult and easier. Sometimes the feelings of being hungry faded entirely, or were at least a dull gnawing, easy to ignore. Other times they were sharp and terrible. He'd found himself eating celery, supposedly having no calories and a high water content. It gave him vitamins, was healthy… What was the problem? He didn't have a problem, no siree. He was on a diet and doing damn well.
"Alfred?!" he heard again, blinking a few times.
"Will you quit yelling in my ear? Man, it's… It's four?! Why are you calling?"
'You keep falling asleep', Arthur though irritably but refrained from saying anything. "Oh, is it? Silly me, forgetting those time zones. Such a nuisance. Tell me Alfred, how've you been lately?"
He stared at the glow of his phone in the dim room for a few moments before holding it back to his ear. "Uh… I'm cool. Yup. Arthur… Dude, are you drunk or something?"
"Excuse me?! What are- Ahem. No.. Sorry, no. I'm not. It's far too early to be drinking anyway."
"Okaaay…" Alfred was officially weirder out. Arthur was acting nothing like himself. "Then what's wrong with you? Did something happen and you're calling for help or…" He trailed off in a loud, jaw cracking yawn that left Arthur feeling guilty.
If he's really that tired… No. "Me? Nothing's wrong with me. I just hadn't heard anything from you in a while and I thought I'd check up on you. Can't have any harm coming to a superpower, hm?"
"Yeah, exactly. I can't get hurt. Man, Arthur, you're acting really weird. I'm gonna go back to bed if you didn't just bash your head off the wall or something else dumb. I'll talk to you later." His tone was much snippier than usual, strange for someone so terribly (irritatingly) optimistic. And before Arthur knew it his phone was beeping to let him know the other caller had hung up before going silent. He sighed as he looked at the brick like phone Alfred had gifted him, the worry that continued to eat away at him only increasing. Something was most definitely wrong.
Re: Carb free isnt enough 5a/?
(Anonymous) 2013-04-09 09:13 am (UTC)(link)"Please, Egnland hush. You're going to burst my eardrum."
"Do you care at all?" he hissed, clearly on edge, about to snap at one wrong word or move.
"Of course I care! But one of us has to keep a- cool head? Calm? Whatever the term, or Alfred won't be getting any help." There. He'd admitted it. Francis had finally admitted the fact that even he thought the American needed help.
There was a long, almost painfully silent pause in which Arthur seemed as if he would retaliate before he heaved a sigh and slumped in his seat. "I never realize how good that boy was at hiding…" he mumbled.
"Arthur… He's not a boy. He's a young man and knowing him as I do I highly doubt he can see what he's doing to himself, whatever that may be."
"I know Francis, I know. Dammit.. That's exactly what I'm afraid of."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
They had every right to be afraid for Alfred's safety.
He woke up and rolled over, bleary eyed and tired, but unable to sleep. 6:16 glared back at him from the green glow of his clock.
It was another hour before he would roll out of bed, an hour of moments spent attempting to relax, and cursing his body for the never ending frustration of waking up hungry.
He shuffled out of bed, socks, sweatpants, a long sleeve shirt, and slippers in place of what used to be only boxers because he was so warm. Now he missed those days, always cold.
He glared at his reflection as he brushed his teeth under the harsh bathroom lighting. Gone was the smiles, however sleepy, the faint tan of time spend outside, or even the handsome sheen of healthy hair. He hated his reflection. Truly hated what stared back at him. Dull blue eyes. Sallow skin, pocked with acne. He poked his cheek after he'd spit and rinsed, pinching the fat on his jaw. It wasn't fat, only skin. He'd lost the youthful baby fat that had still resided on his face, now replaced with an ill looking man. He looked older than he had. He wouldn't glare at the rest of his body, that came later in the day before he showered. He spared himself that grievance in his morning routine.
Next came breakfast. He made his way downstairs, yawning again and wondering if he could go back to bed. (He never did. Couldn't sleep. Could only lay there and poke at pockets of fat or overthink everything he'd ever done. It was getting to him. He munched on his celery. Crunching. Crunching… And broke. This was nothing new. He 'broke' often enough. This lack of willpower was part of why he hated himself. The crunching was no longer of the celery, but a chocolate chip cookie. A test to his willpower which he'd failed.
Re: Carb free isnt enough 5b/?
(Anonymous) 2013-04-09 09:13 am (UTC)(link)"Alfred? …Alfred?!"
Why was Arthur at his house? "Alfreeed?" And Francis?! He quickly scrambled form the pool, drying and getting dressed as he tried to decide what to do. Had his boss sent them? He hadn't been getting any work done… But it was impossible to focus lately. "Shit.." he muttered under his breath, pacing by the pool.
"Alfred?" His voice was softer but the man in question jumped all the same, turning to the door with wide eyes to see Francis. He offered a wide grin and a small wave, making no move to get any closer. And how strange he must've looked, hair wet and fully dressed, pacing by the pool. "Yes… It's too cold outside. Come in, Arthur and I came all this way to see you!" he said with false cheer, filling the silence caused by Alfred's lack of words, turning and calling inside to let Arthur know that he'd been found.
"We're staying for a few days," he continued on with the same cheer as he forcibly drug Alfred inside who was in no shape to fight it. Francis tried not to cringe at the boney wrist in his grip.
Well shit. "Oh… Yeah? That's..cool! I've not had anyone over in a while!" He slowly found his normal tone of voice, something he'd rarely had to use these last few months.
Arthur felt sick when he saw what Francis was dragging inside. Alfred. His poor, poor Alfred, was so… "Honestly now, what were you doing outside with your hair wet? You'll catch cold," he scolded gently, much to Alfred's bewilderment. "I was just… swimming?" he answered, clearly confused. "Yes, yes. Well, come on then. Need to get you dried off." And Arthur needed to do something mundane so that he and Francis had a chance to organize their thoughts. This was nothing like they expected. This was… Who was this? This wasn't the Alfred he knew. This imposter had none of his boisterous energy, potent charm and happiness. And Arthur missed that. He felt a twinge at the fact it was gone, sitting Alfred on the commode lid with no protest and gently, caringly rubbing his hair dry with a towel. No one knew what to say it seemed.
Re: Carb free isnt enough 5b/?
(Anonymous) 2013-04-10 02:04 am (UTC)(link)Re: Carb free isnt enough 5b/?
(Anonymous) 2013-04-15 01:54 am (UTC)(link)Re: Carb free isnt enough 5b/?
(Anonymous) 2013-05-03 05:47 am (UTC)(link)Re: Carb free isnt enough 6a/?
(Anonymous) 2013-05-19 07:45 am (UTC)(link)Francis left Alfred and Arthur to the upstairs bathroom as he rummaged through the kitchen. Sitting down over a small meal, that would surely help ease a bit of the awkwardness. (And it would give him something to do with his hands as he processed the oddly quiet, ill looking individual that had seemingly replaced the beloved superpower they'd been hoping to find.)
What he found in the kitchen left him feeling as ill as Arthur had looked at the sight of the American. The counters were scarily clean. Everything was. and the cabinets... Low fat this, carb free that. It made sense if he'd been dieting, but the issue was that packages were left unopened, crackers looked stale and untouched and where one would normally find typical daily items in the fridge, milk, eggs, some sort of meat or protein for meals; he found celery in bulk, bottled water, an ungodly amount of coffee grounds, and one half used onion that was well on its way to becoming sentient. Where Arthur had been struck by the state of his lack of personal grooming, Francis was hit by the full situation when he saw the true state of Alfred's kitchen.
Slowly he made his way upstairs, steps creaking under each footstep as he heard the gentle murmur of Arthur speaking with Alfred. There was no doubting he'd been hit with the severity, his normal sarcastic nature gone in favor of something almost maternal. He leaned against the doorway and just watched as Arthur coaxed, didn't force or demand but coaxed Alfred to turn this way and that as he washed his hair in the sink for some unfathomable reason.
"No- No, now stop that. Alfred, hush and relax, if you raise your head you'll hit the spigot." His tone was caring as he massaged the foam through Alfred's hair, glancing to Francis when he noticed him. "He wouldn't take a shower, but he reeked of chlorine," he explained, tutting as Alfred tried to shift again, though for the most part he seemed complacent if not overwhelming tired. It only served to worry Francis farther.
"Ah..." he said slowly, nodding. "Perhaps you should take a warm shower, Alfred?" he suggested, though he didn't move from the doorway. The grunt from the sink wasn't pleased, obviously a no. "Perhaps later. While you two finish up with this, I'm going to head out for a short while," he explained carefully.
Re: Carb free isnt enough 6b/?
(Anonymous) 2013-05-19 07:48 am (UTC)(link)"Where to?" Arthur wondered, sending him a curious, if not irritated look.
"To do a little shopping. It seemed like you hadn't had a chance to do any this week, and if Arthur and I are to stay over we certainly can't go without food-"
"You- Fuck!" Alfred had jerked, hitting his head off the spigot as promised and causing Arthur to take a startled step back at the unexpected anger behind the curse. It only increased as he turned to look at Francis, his hair plastered to his head and dripping messily all over him and the floor. He held the back of his head with one hand, glaring accusingly at Francis. "You went through my kitchen! What the hell?!"
"Alfred, I've done it almost every time I come over-" Francis tried to speak gently, but it was to no avail. Alfred's mood had easily flipped, and he hardly seemed in control at the moment.
"You don't just go to a guy's house without warning and go through his kitchen! My house, not yours!"
Arthur had listened to enough and stepped forward, placing his hand on Alfred's shoulder in an iron grip. "Alfred," he snapped, earning himself a furious glare that wilted just a bit under the one he received in return. He wasn't afraid of Arthur, but the look he was getting- God, that man could terrorize a grizzly. "Alfred Jones, you have no right to be acting like this, and I expect you to calm yourself right now."
This had been the wrong thing to say. Alfred's momentary falter was quickly corrected, his anger turned on Arthur as he jerked away from him. "What? What's this? You wanna act like a parent?" he said, his tone as vehemently hateful as his words would become. "Get over it! You weren't any parent," he spat. "And you sure as hell aren't one now. Just a drunk, crazy pirate who's ego got too big so he went and fucked it all up and lost all of his precious 'treasure!'" His words were mocking and hateful, and in the moment there wasn't a single filter in place.
Arthur stared in wide eyed shock as Alfred stomped from the room, actually shoving Francis out of his way. He yelled for them to get out before his bedroom door slammed shut with strength enough to rattle pictures on the walls downstairs.
"He..."
"Yes... Yes, he did."
Obviously neither knew what to say. Francis stepped into the room and turned off the water before he led Arthur downstairs to show him the kitchen, both of them missing the sound of faint sobs coming from Alfred's bedroom at the end of the hall.
He felt like shit. All of that that he'd said- They were hateful, cutting words and he'd had no reason for them. He'd let his temper get away from him, something he rarely did, and especially not like this... And not over something so small! "I can't even be nice to them..." he muttered into his pillow as he let out another choked sob, wanting a way to punish himself for his hateful words, cruel tone. Instead he let himself lay there and wallow in self pity that only increased self loathing. He hoped they'd be angry with him and leave. Leave him alone and not come back, because he deserved it. After talking like that? Why would he deserve anything even remotely kind?
Another question for OP
(Anonymous) 2013-05-19 08:47 am (UTC)(link)Re: Carb free isnt enough 6b/?
(Anonymous) 2014-12-14 07:43 am (UTC)(link)