Life is a Beautiful Nightmare [4a/?]
anonymous
July 26 2011, 23:08:03 UTC
OTL I'm sorry if I strayed from the prompt in part 3. I'll try to keep in line.
Arthur rushed into school the next day with a few minutes to spare. His senses were still groggy, and he was still mentally swearing at his alarm clock, like he did every single morning where he was pulled from his blissful, yet horribly brief sleep by the annoying ring.
He ran into class just as the bell rang, announcing the start of school. Panting, he took a moment to catch his breath, trying to filter out the whispers and the eyes trained on him. This was not his ideal way of starting his day.
“What’s wrong, Artie, slept in? Are you sure you’re even awake?” some jock yelled from the back of the room, prompting the entire class into a fit of chuckles and whispers. Arthur blushed and just rushed to his seat, noting the annoyed glint in the teacher’s eyes as he passed by her with a nod of his head.
“Alright, class, calm down. Pull out your textbooks please, and Arthur... Make efforts to listen and try not to fall asleep.” She sighed, a simple comment which prompted more laughter from the class. Arthur felt like sinking into the seventh layer of hell and just staying there. Perhaps the devil would allow him to sleep, at least.
He knew just by the feel of the atmosphere that today was not gonna be a good day.
He resisted the tempting call of sleep throughout the first period and felt immensely proud when he managed to squeeze in some note-taking as well. It wasn’t like he needed to listen much since his grades were pretty high, but he had to study before exams like everyone else and sometimes found himself at loss the day before, having missed out on notes in a particular class.
When the bell rang, he quickly put his stuff in his bag, and, feeling a bit better than before, he strode out. Still, he allowed his eyes to momentarily droop as he walked, turning corridors towards the empty part of the building where the English courses took place.
He had momentarily closed his eyes, letting the chatter of his classmates filter through his ears, when he suddenly walked into someone. His eyes flew open and he immediately went to say something, whether to apologize or tell the person off, he wasn’t sure himself, before he noticed that it was the group of guys from the American football team who kept teasing him all the time.
“Wow, Artie, you should really look where you’re going!” one of them chuckled in mock concern. “Perhaps you’re not awake yet, huh?”
“I am, now leave me alone.” Arthur muttered, looking for a way out, but found himself surrounded. Well, wasn’t this just perfect?
“You don’t look awake.” Another one commented.
“Don’t worry, well help you wake up.” Another one laughed, and Arthur turned just in time to see the bucket held over him.
Well shit.
He gave a loud yelp as the freezing water (and hopefully nothing else) was dumped over his head, his knees buckling at the sudden pressure. He fell to the ground with a groan, immediately shrugging out of his backpack to keep it from getting wetter than it already was.
“Hope you’re awake now, Artie!” the footballs jocks laughed before heading off towards class. Whispers and laughter arose from the crowd present, and Arthur hung his head. He couldn’t even muster the energy he needed to push himself up and go to the bathroom. When had he become such a wreck?
Something the colour of skin suddenly obstructed his view, and he drew in a sharp breath, his hand flying up to wipe it. He paled upon seeing what it was.
Life is a Beautiful Nightmare [4b/?]
anonymous
July 26 2011, 23:10:00 UTC
Cover-up...
“Shit.” He swore, realizing that his makeup was running, and that soon, the horribly ugly bruises beneath his eyes would show.
“Hey, you okay?” a voice suddenly asked from next to him. Arthur turned just in time to see innocent sky blue eyes blink at him, a hand extended in his direction. “Do you need help?”
Alfred.
Always swooping in to be the hero.
“Sod off.” Arthur grumbled, turning away and helping himself up on his wobbly feet. He lightly slipped on the puddle of water beneath him as he made a move to grab his bag, but Alfred was by his side in a second, steadying him by the shoulders.
“H-Hey, be careful, Artie-”
Oh, why had Arthur hoped that Alfred would at least be different?
“My name’s not Artie! Now unhand me, you bloody twat!” he yelled, violently pushing out of Alfred’s grip and stalking towards the nearest bathroom, leaving behind a bewildered and slightly hurt American who watched him go with a frown.
Once inside the bathroom, Arthur violently chucked his backpack at the wall, frustrated tears welling up in his eyes. Why couldn’t anything ever go right for him?
“Fuck my life.” He sighed, grabbing some towel papers and lifting his long bangs out of the way to wipe the running makeup off his face. As the skin-coloured foundation slowly came off, the purplish skin slowly poked out from below. Arthur hated looking at himself like this. It made him feel so weak, exposed and ugly.
He wasn’t one for looks, but with dark circles as severe as his under his eyes, questions would arise, and he hated receiving pity. So he just settled for makeup. It did the trick and hid his bruise-like bags perfectly, as long as it didn’t come in contact with water.
After cleaning and rinsing his face, he dried it off and fumbled through his backpack, pulling out a pod of foundation makeup and a stick of cover-up. Noticing he didn’t have long before the bell rang for class, he quickly drew random lines with the stick below and above his right eye, then smudged the cover-up accordingly to cover the entirety of the dark patch. Then, he grabbed his powder foundation and used the brush to cover any spots left.
Once he deemed it good enough, he stopped and started working on his left eye.
So engrossed in his work, he didn’t notice the approaching voices of people. He noticed too late as the door swung open and in strode 4 guys from his class.
Life is a Beautiful Nightmare [4c/?]
anonymous
July 26 2011, 23:14:33 UTC
“So I told her that she was a stupid whore and she’s all like-” the guy who was talking turned his eyes in front of him, only to spot Arthur, who was awkwardly fumbling to put the makeup away. “Kirkland?”
Arthur swore, shoving the stick and foundation in his pocket but forgetting the brush in his hand. He clapped another hand over his left eye just in case the bags were still showing and shook his head.
“Was that makeup I just saw?”
“N-No, it was uhh...” completely taken by surprise, Arthur stuttered before laughter made him look away.
“No way. Arthur Kirkland, the angry Brit who always sleeps in class and happens to be student council president wears makeup ?” another one choked out through strings of laughter, making Arthur redden in the face in embarrassment. Coupled with his sopping wet hair and dripping clothes sticking to his thin, bony body, he looked like the exact definition of pitiful.
“Oh man, I gotta tell the guys!” the leader laughed, catching Arthur’s attention. His eyes (or his only visible eye) widened in horror, and he put a hand out to stop them as they turned around to leave.
“N-No, wait, this isn’t what it looks like!” he tried protesting, cut off by more laughter, steadily getting farther as the boys exited the bathroom.
“Oh my god, Kirkland, you’re such a fag.” Was the last jeer he heard before his brain shut him out. Slowly, he leaned against the wall and let himself slide down, his clothes making squelchy sounds as he sat on them.
His lips pursed into a thin line, conflicting emotions giving him a headache (though he attributed it to sleep deprivation again). He didn’t know whether he should be angry, or sad, or vengeful, or just nothing. Right now, he was just so... confused. So confused with what he should be feeling, and so tired of thinking about it.
So he just sat there, against the wall, in a small bundle, not knowing if he should burst out into tears or completely cut the football team’s budget for the next three years to come.
“H-Hey, Arthur...?”
Oh. Oh, there was one left. Arthur couldn’t even find the energy to look up. He was sure he’d see the same worried blue eyes as last time.
“Go away.” He simply whispered. “Go laugh somewhere else.”
“I wasn’t gonna.” Alfred pouted, looking affronted. “I just wanted to know whether you needed help or not.”
“I don’t need your goddamn help.” Arthur muttered, staring at the tiles before pushing himself up and grabbing his backpack. “Tell the teacher I have urgent work to do in my office. I’m not going to class.” He simply informed him before pushing the door and exiting the bathroom.
Unfortunately for him, Alfred was by his side in a second.
“What’s wrong with your eye, though? Are you hurt?” he asked, eyes brimming with concern as he grasped Arthur’s frail (far too bony, were wrists even supposed to be that thin and pale?) wrist, trying to pry it away from his eye.
“I’m fine, just get to class, Jones.” The student council president snapped, slapping his hand away and stalking off. It seemed like his exhausted brain had decided on being angry after all.
Alfred could only watch in confusion and slight hurt as Arthur turned a corner and disappeared.
He just wanted to help... Why was Arthur pushing him away...?
And if Arthur were here and could hear those thoughts, he’d just let out an incredulous laugh and wonder how in hell he managed being so oblivious.
Phew, that's it for today! Author!anon loves your comments, but won't reply so she won't spam >_<" She still loves 'em, though~
You totally did not stray from the prompt. I love this. And I love you.
The scene between Arthur and his father was perfect -- I really do believe that emotional abuse and neglect are just as devastating as any form of physical abuse, so I'm glad you decided to take this route... I feel so sadistic. But anyway, you managed to inject real emotion into part four, and I had tears welling up and everything! As if his home life isn't bad enough, he gets bullied too?! I just want to give the poor boy a hug.
I do love how you've kept him so in character though-- being all angry and snarky even when he's crying on the inside. <3 I'm loving this fill and I can't wait for more!
Life is a Beautiful Nightmare [5a/?]
anonymous
July 27 2011, 18:18:55 UTC
Omg, your comments makes my life, you guys <3 I'll try not to disappoint~
“So apparently, Kirkland is gonna cut the funds for the football team.” One of the football players announced at their table during lunch.
“The fuck? He can’t do that.” Another rolled his eyes at the empty threat.
“Of course he can, he’s student council president! He decides pretty much everything!” the one next to Alfred contested.
Alfred simply looked at his friends innocently, munching on his fourth hamburger as he watched the arguments and objections fly.
“We could complain to the principal if he does.”
“No way. We’d just tell the coach and he’d give that little bitch his just desserts.”
“Why would you even wait for the coach to make a move? If he cuts our funds, all we gotta do is beat him up after school.” Another suggested, clamouring replies of agreement arising.
Alfred felt his throat lock up.
“Uhhh... guys?” he choked, putting his burger down. “Is the violence really that necessary?”
“If he takes our money to give it to some pussy-ass chess club, then yes, we’ll have to give that little asshole a piece of our mind.” Another one cracked his knuckles, eliciting a few laughs from around him.
“But, uhh... You started it by mocking him...” Alfred pointed out, drawing a few incredulous stares from his group of friends.
“No, we didn’t. You did, Jones. You started it by telling on him every single time he tried to snooze off in class. Not that that’s a bad thing, but point is, you’re the main reason he hates us.” Another one noted.
Alfred’s breath hitched. So... Not only Arthur, but his friends were angry at him too...? But... he was just trying to have fun. Arthur’s reaction was pretty hilarious the first time... And the second time.. . And the third time... And the- Oh damn it all, Alfred had done it because Arthur’s expression had been priceless all 23 times.
“Were you planning on going against us, man?”
He didn’t want this. Things were going too far. He hadn’t wished to upset so many people.
Especially not Arthur.
Annoy him, yes. He wanted to insert himself in Arthur’s life and get closer to him through whatever means necessary, but he didn’t want the student council president to flat-out hate him...
“The hell, Alfred? Answer us!”
“I, uhh...” he fumbled around with his words, a ball forming in his stomach. He didn’t feel so hungry anymore.
“Tell us, Jones. You with us, or against us?”
“If you’re gonna insult Artie like that and gang up on him and beat him up and throw him into an alley, then yes, yes I’m against you. I want to protect Artie, I want to be his hero, I won’t let you touch a single hair on his-”
“With you.” He simply replied, shoving his burger in his mouth to avoid having to say more.
He would get Arthur’s attention, and no one could stop him.
Life is a Beautiful Nightmare [5b/?]
anonymous
July 27 2011, 19:07:26 UTC
The next time Alfred saw Arthur was in chemistry. Everyone had slipped into their lab coats and glasses, going around collecting the material they needed for the titration test, when he spotted him. Arthur was at the front (and looking quite handsome in that lab coat of his), probably asking the teacher something.
Alfred was so busy looking at Arthur that he almost missed the teacher calling out the group names.
“Alright, so we’re gonna make teams of 2, alphabetical order to keep things simple.” He then started pairing the students together while Alfred tried to figure out who his partner would be.
Jones, J... H, I, J, K... The first name in K would belong to...
The two boys seemed to make the same conclusion at the same time as they immediately turned to face each other, gapes on both of their faces. Alfred, out of delight...
“Jones, Kirkland.”
... And Arthur, out of horror.
It took a while for the two to get settled at their table, seeing as Arthur was adamant on not communicating with him. Sure, Alfred was delighted that he was in a team with his high school crush (don’t tell anyone, though. He didn’t want anyone making fun of him), but he would’ve liked teamwork better.
Besides, he liked chemistry, and really wanted to ace the test, Arthur or no Arthur.
“Alright, so we should get started. Could you pour the mystery solution in the Erlenmeyer? I’ll fill this burette with acidic solution during the meantime.” Alfred decided, letting Arthur handle his stuff while he concentrated on filling the burette with exactly 50ml of the given solution.
The two worked in silence, halfway through switching roles so that Arthur could continue with the burette while Alfred wrote something down in the report.
Arthur gulped down and looked at the laboratory gear, remembering that the teacher warned them that burettes were very fragile. He’d have to do something about his trembling hands if he was to do this correctly.
“Go on.” Alfred prompted, still writing down the analysis of what had happened up to now.
Not wanting to disappoint any more than he had to, Arthur nodded and gulped down, opening the burette latch and waiting for a millilitre to drop into the solution. When it did, he jerkily closed the hatch and pulled the Erlenmeyer out from under it, mixing the two substances together and watching for a colour change. The base substance, though, remained fuchsia red. Looks like they’d need more.
His hands shook, helping the mixing process a bit, but when he turned around to set his Erlenmeyer on the table again, a sudden wave of dizziness overtook him, and he stumbled, falling to his knees with a surprised yelp. The Erlenmeyer smashed against the floor, ruby liquid flowing through the cracks in the tiles.
Life is a Beautiful Nightmare [5c/?]
anonymous
July 27 2011, 19:10:33 UTC
Almost unconsciously, Arthur found himself apologizing. Over and over and over again. And he didn’t know why. Arthur Kirkland never apologized. Why was he apologizing now? It felt like it wasn’t even his voice speaking in a rushed, panicked tone. Like some other part of him that he’d kept locked up since forever.
Through his apologizing, he heard students laughing and clapping cynically around them, partly masked by the sound of Alfred’s worried voice in his ear. Alfred was speaking to him. What was he saying? It was hard to understand when it wasn’t even him inside his own body. He felt like he was drifting away.
“Arthur... something... Stop...nothing... say...”
Arthur slowly became aware of a warm pair of arms circling his shoulders, supporting him in his sitting position. One hand was grasping his right one, and his left one was burning for some reason. Slowly, he felt his conscience being tugged back into his body, and the world suddenly rushed back. He jerked in Alfred’s arms and took a shaky breath, looking up at him. Panicked green met worried blue, and the world froze for a second before Alfred’s words rushed back to his ears.
“Arthur, please say something... Stop apologizing, it’s nothing... Just please say something else...” the blond was whispering, every word breathed so close to Arthur’s ear driving him that much closer to the edge.
“Uhh...” Arthur finally stammered, his gaze straying to the failed experiment on the ground. “Bloody hell, this sucks.” He dumbly muttered.
Above him, Alfred chuckled, relieved, and slowly pulled him up from the ground.
“That’s my Artie alright.”
“My name’s Arthur, and I don’t belong to you, bloody git.” Arthur swore before sharp pain assailed his left hand. Gasping, he clutched it to his chest, swearing softly. Suddenly, his hand was pulled away by the teacher, who inspected the shard of glass in his hand and sighed.
“Alright, Arthur, come with me. We’ll bandage your hand while Alfred restarts the experiment. You can just stick to filling the analysis afterwards.” He decided, gently leading Arthur away.
Once at reasonable distance, he sat Arthur down and pulled the first aid kit out, frowning.
“Why did you collapse?”
“Like I chose to collapse in the middle of an experiment.” Arthur huffed, putting his hand out.
“Were you injured before today?”
“No, but I have been feeling sick for a few days now. I just got hit by a wave of dizziness, is all.” He muttered, not telling the truth, but not lying either.
After so many years of practice, he’d figured out that the best lie was on the very edge of truth.
“Go get some rest at the infirmary.”
“I can’t, sir, I don’t want to let Alfred work alone.”
Lie. He just didn’t want to miss out on any more lessons... Or was it a lie at all? Maybe he subconsciously liked spending time with Alfred.
“Then after detention, go straight home to bed.”
“I will, sir.”
Lie. The winter dance’s blueprints still hadn’t been started and it was in a month. Plus, his father’s bedroom probably needed cleaning, judging by all the awkward noises that were coming from it at around 2 in the morning last night.
“And tell your father. He should take you to a doctor if the sickness persists.”
“I’ll tell him that.”
Lie. Big bloody lie. Like the man would even give a flying fuck what his son did in school. He couldn’t care less about his accomplishments, so why would he care about the bad things that came with school?
“Good. Now there, you’re all set. Get back to work and take it easy.” The teacher smiled, patting Arthur’s bandaged hand comfortingly. If Arthur were a cat, his fur would have bristled at the motion. “And remember, Arthur. If you ever need to talk...”
“I know, sir, I know.” Arthur muttered, swiftly turning around and heading back to his workstation, ignoring the furtive glances and whispers destined for him and him only.
Life is a Beautiful Nightmare [5d/?]
anonymous
July 27 2011, 19:16:34 UTC
By the time Arthur was done with detention, it was already dark outside. His hand was numb from writing so much, he still felt humid and sticky, he was hungry and so tired . He’d almost fallen asleep three times while copying the dictionary, and had mostly spent his detention time trying to keep himself awake instead of actually copying.
Thankfully, the teacher hadn’t commented on the measly three and a half pages he’d accomplished and had let him off with a warning.
The cold winter chill ran through his body as the wind howled. Snow would start soon, and Arthur was not looking forward to it. He sneezed into his scarf and buried himself tighter in his winter clothing, shivering when the still-humid patches of his clothing came in contact with the cold wind.
The last thing he needed was to get sick.
Thankfully, his father worked late on Thursdays and went to a bar after that, so Arthur had the house to himself until up to midnight. The downside was that his father came home with a whore (or two, sometimes) 50% of the time, so after midnight, there would be really loud sex until the early morning hours.
Arthur did his best to ignore it and get work done. He hated Thursdays.
Unfortunately for him, there was a surprise waiting for him when he stepped inside their flat. A package, with a note on it, destined for him. A delivery.
“Well shit. It’s my only day off from you and you still make me work my arse off. Bloody hell.” Arthur grabbed the package, ripping the instructions left for him off of it and glaring daggers at the address written on the yellow post-it.
Sometimes, his father would leave packages for him to deliver places. He never told him what was inside, but frankly, Arthur didn’t care. Whatever it was, it was getting them money, and it was helping them live. So Arthur did it.
And even though he felt light headed and knew that with this delivery, he’d probably be back in two hours, if not more, he quickly changed into his street clothes and slipped back into the darkness of the streets.
Sounded like another sleepless night to him. He really shouldn’t have made it a habit of accumulating those one after the other.
All this is accumulation for the climax, if you couldn't tell~ Also, let me warn you that I'm used to writing fanfiction and not kink meme fills, so my updates can and will be lengthy at times. Part 6 goes up to 6f OTL
I'm still loving this like you wouldn't believe, and I don't think that anyone is complaining about update lengths, least of all me! This is so very well written and I loved how we got a peek at Alfred's thoughts this chapter :) how can you produce these pangs in my heart and tears in my eyes so easily?! I'm desperately looking forward to the climax, and I can't wait to read the next chapter! <3
Life is a Beautiful Nightmare [6a/?]
anonymous
July 28 2011, 22:20:28 UTC
Here we go for the seemingly endless string of divisions for part 6 OTL. Enjoy~
Saying Arthur felt like a zombie in the morning would be an understatement.
“I feel like a dead zombie that just rose up again, died, and rose up again. And died.” He groaned to himself (or to his fairy friend, which he curiously only seemed to see when he was extremely tired) as he crossed the street to school.
And if he were in a more rested state of mind that morning, he would have caught himself and kicked his own ass at how dumb he’d sounded with the previous sentence. But he didn’t, because his mind could barely register anything at all. His bag felt like lead, the books inside weighing heavily on his back like rocks.
Fortunately (or unfortunately, his tired mind argued with him), Arthur started the day with English, one of the rare classes he enjoyed and made genuine efforts not to fall asleep in, and then P.E, meaning he could take his time between the two classes.
Hopefully, the first period would wake him up. They were doing Shakespeare at the moment, a subject that reminded Arthur of England, his own home and friends, and of a better life. During English class, he couldn’t help but let a smile slip onto his face as he followed along the current reader as the students took turns narrating the play.
So engrossed in his perfect world of bliss and happiness, he didn’t notice when Alfred turned his gaze from next to him to check the page they were on, but noticed the small, almost shy smile on the Brit’s face instead.
The two boys spent the entire class with their stares frozen. Arthur drank in Shakespeare’s soothing, familiar words, to recall when he was feeling sad and lonely as Alfred worked on analysing, mapping and archiving the rarely serene expression on Arthur’s face, to remember when he was feeling rejected and lovesick.
Time seemed to pass too quickly for them, the shrill sound of the bell snapping them out of their trances simultaneously. Both packed up without another word and left with the crowd of students, towards the gym.
While Alfred was jumping up and down in glee at the prospect of P.E class, Arthur was mentally begging whatever god was willing to listen to him at that moment to spare him.
He barely had the energy to walk in a straight line (he actually had to use the walls to make sure his blurry vision didn’t fail him), much less run laps and play volleyball with a gang of football players.
The boys and girls separated at the changing rooms, each going their own way. A jeering cry of “Hey Artie, you’re in the wrong changing room!” reminded Arthur that he still needed to cut the football team’s funds, but asides that, he simply changed in relative silence, quickly slipping into his shirt and shorts and unknowingly blocking a pair of worried blue eyes from analysing his bony, too-pale body.
The simple action of stepping into the gym and smelling the heavy, sweaty air made another wave of dizziness rush to him, sending him grabbing for the nearest hold to keep him from falling. Once steadied, he took a deep breath and bravely ventured inside. At worst, he’d just take it light, to keep his blurry vision from taking him tumbling. Everyone knew P.E wasn’t his best subject, too, so he could get off easy if he acted it out right.
Life is a Beautiful Nightmare [6b/?]
anonymous
July 28 2011, 22:23:08 UTC
For the millionth time that day, Arthur swore that someone must have been angry at him as he ran a warm-up lap, horrible nausea making his head spin in scary circles. Perhaps god was mad at him for using his name so freely while swearing at his father the other night. It would make a lot of sense, and would explain why nothing was on his side today.
“Alright, that’s enough warm up!” the gym teacher called once he thought he’d prepared (more like tortured, in Arthur’s point of view) the class enough.
The students, most of whom had run around three laps (Arthur prided himself in running one while in his condition. And he would kill anyone who made fun of him for it. Honestly, he felt horrible, but he wasn’t about to tell anyone that), all gathered at the front, listening for further instructions.
“Alright, everyone, make teams of two, and grab a volleyball. I want everyone to practice their sets, so get in teams and pass the ball to each other using overhead passes or forearm passes. Don’t let the ball fall.” He barely finished the instructions before the students were already rushing to grab their volleyballs and make teams.
Arthur stood at the side, not knowing what to do next. A hand was suddenly set on his shoulder, and he jumped, biting back a scream. His nerves really were dead after last night. Sluggishly, he turned and glared at the biggest nightmare in his life (one of many, he should say), or the biggest pretend-nightmare in his life, since he didn’t consider the American as more than a simple nuisance.
Oh wow, his brain really must have been fried for him to think that of Alfred.
Speaking of whom, Arthur guessed that by the way his lips were moving, he was asking to be in a team with Arthur to practice. Arthur actually pitied the poor kid, who would be stuck with him during the entire practice session. As if Arthur would be making effort to actually practice.
Not with the funny black dots exploding in his vision, he wouldn’t.
“Huh. Guess I got those because I pushed myself too hard while running. Amusing.”
Oh, yes. A wire was most definitely loose in his brain.
Life is a Beautiful Nightmare [6c/?]
anonymous
July 28 2011, 22:30:21 UTC
“I’ll go get a ball.” Alfred informed him, noticing that his partner wasn’t moving. Arthur actually only heard half of that, the noise around him sounding sucked out, as if he were listening to the world through a glass wall. And he honestly didn’t know what to think of that.
Still, he convinced himself that -no, everything is NOT okay, Arthur, please get help before something bad happens, tell them everything, get some rest, you have to eat, you’re so small and frail and pale, this can’t be healthy for you, Arthur!- everything was okay and gave a slight nod to Alfred as he came back with the ball.
The first pass to him dropped right in front of him as Arthur realized he couldn’t even follow the ball’s movements correctly.
In an effort to participate and keep his facade up, Arthur clumsily chucked the ball at Alfred, who made a perfect pass back at him with his forearms, yelling at him to go get it and pass it back.
Putting all his energy into it (because deep inside, he found himself liking the pleased, hopeful expression on Alfred’s face as he encouraged him), Arthur made a move for the ball, half-stumbling, half-running for it and clumsily returning it to Alfred.
Even if it went completely askew, Alfred never gave up and kept cheering Arthur on as he ran for the ball, returning it right before it touched the ground.
“Run for it, Arthur!” he yelled enthusiastically, watching with slightly veiled worry as the student council president tripped over his own feet, stumbling towards the ball. He almost had it, he was so close... Alfred dropped into a receiving position, expecting Arthur to hit the ball, but...
Nothing came.
The ball just dropped in front of Arthur, bouncing and rolling away. The bushy-browed blond’s joint hands fell to his sides, and his eyes were closed by the time Alfred stomped to his side, disappointed.
“Arthur, seriously!? That was a perfect shot! You could’ve gotten that! Seriously, make some effort, because you’ve obviously got talent, but can’t use it! Maybe instead of sleeping during class, you could make some effort to study, and ask your friends to go play outside with you after school, because you have to practice to get better and show everyone that you actually can do something good!”
“J-Jones, I...” Arthur gulped down, unable to muster the strength to open his eyes and glare at the American. Who was he to berate him!? Who was he, to allow himself to scold Arthur like that!? Who was he to judge him like that!? “I-”
“Honestly, I’m doing my best, so please don’t push me away, I promise I’ll be better, Alfred, I promise I’ll get better, I promise I won’t make you mad, just please, please stop yelling at me, I don’t know how much I can take anymore and please, I just want you to accept me, I just want you to appreciate me, just please stop yelling and GOD, why don’t you respect me, Alfred? Why?”
Opening his mouth to say something, Arthur only managed a choked sob and a shocked sigh as his knees finally gave in, and he collapsed in the middle of the gym, unconscious.
Did that last thought sequence look familiar to you? Hmm... I tried to get this fic to radiate an aura of confusion and slight madness to reflect how hectic Arthur's life is getting, so extremely long and redundant thought sequences will be spotted throughout the fic. Just sayin' (:
Life is a Beautiful Nightmare [6d/?]
anonymous
July 28 2011, 22:32:50 UTC
“Arthur?” Alfred gulped down, slowly kneeling next to him and shaking him. What had just happened? “Arthur, you okay?”
What a dumb question, of course he wasn’t okay, and Alfred could see that.
The shock just wouldn’t ebb away, though.
Why had he collapsed so suddenly like that? No warnings, no prompts, no reasons, nada!
Common sense suddenly rushed back to him as he noticed a small ring of students around them, whispering as they commented on Arthur’s pained expression, even in unconsciousness, or prompting Alfred to do something.
“Someone call the teacher!” Alfred finally yelled, snapping out of his trance. Arthur was in trouble, and this was his chance to be his hero. And he would be his hero, and he would save him from whatever was plaguing him, and he would make Arthur fall in love with him.
Because, well, he was Alfred F Jones. It was in his blood to be a hero.
“Alright, everyone, disperse, give the kid some room.” A trained voice came from behind them, and a line immediately opened for the teacher, who kneeled next to Alfred and Arthur, immediately checking for a pulse and steady breathing.
“What’s wrong with him? Why’d he collapse?” Alfred worriedly asked, a ball forming in his throat as many different scenarios rushed through his mind.
“He’ll be alright. Probably just pushed himself too far. He just needs some rest and he’ll be back on his feet in no time.” The teacher diagnosed, looking at Alfred. “Well, Alfred, you are pretty strong, so I guess you’ll do...”
“Do what?”
“Take Arthur to the infirmary. Gently now, hold him by the back and his knees...” the teacher guided Alfred’s hands under Arthur’s body, helping him lift the boy up bridal style. Alfred’s heart jumped in his chest when his brain realized how light Arthur was. That couldn’t be healthy, right?
“Like this?” Alfred nervously asked as he got up and straightened, Arthur’s head lolling against his chest. His still-bandaged left hand was cradled against his chest, his right arm hanging. All in all, he felt like dead weight in Alfred’s arms.
“Yes, perfect. Now, don’t rush, use the elevators, and make sure his head doesn’t hang.” The teacher told him before pointing at the door. “Get going.”
Ignoring their classmates as they joked on how much of a married couple Alfred and Arthur looked like, Alfred rushed out of the gym and towards the infirmary as quickly as he could without disturbing his Arthur.
Arthur rushed into school the next day with a few minutes to spare. His senses were still groggy, and he was still mentally swearing at his alarm clock, like he did every single morning where he was pulled from his blissful, yet horribly brief sleep by the annoying ring.
He ran into class just as the bell rang, announcing the start of school. Panting, he took a moment to catch his breath, trying to filter out the whispers and the eyes trained on him. This was not his ideal way of starting his day.
“What’s wrong, Artie, slept in? Are you sure you’re even awake?” some jock yelled from the back of the room, prompting the entire class into a fit of chuckles and whispers. Arthur blushed and just rushed to his seat, noting the annoyed glint in the teacher’s eyes as he passed by her with a nod of his head.
“Alright, class, calm down. Pull out your textbooks please, and Arthur... Make efforts to listen and try not to fall asleep.” She sighed, a simple comment which prompted more laughter from the class. Arthur felt like sinking into the seventh layer of hell and just staying there. Perhaps the devil would allow him to sleep, at least.
He knew just by the feel of the atmosphere that today was not gonna be a good day.
He resisted the tempting call of sleep throughout the first period and felt immensely proud when he managed to squeeze in some note-taking as well. It wasn’t like he needed to listen much since his grades were pretty high, but he had to study before exams like everyone else and sometimes found himself at loss the day before, having missed out on notes in a particular class.
When the bell rang, he quickly put his stuff in his bag, and, feeling a bit better than before, he strode out. Still, he allowed his eyes to momentarily droop as he walked, turning corridors towards the empty part of the building where the English courses took place.
He had momentarily closed his eyes, letting the chatter of his classmates filter through his ears, when he suddenly walked into someone. His eyes flew open and he immediately went to say something, whether to apologize or tell the person off, he wasn’t sure himself, before he noticed that it was the group of guys from the American football team who kept teasing him all the time.
“Wow, Artie, you should really look where you’re going!” one of them chuckled in mock concern. “Perhaps you’re not awake yet, huh?”
“I am, now leave me alone.” Arthur muttered, looking for a way out, but found himself surrounded. Well, wasn’t this just perfect?
“You don’t look awake.” Another one commented.
“Don’t worry, well help you wake up.” Another one laughed, and Arthur turned just in time to see the bucket held over him.
Well shit.
He gave a loud yelp as the freezing water (and hopefully nothing else) was dumped over his head, his knees buckling at the sudden pressure. He fell to the ground with a groan, immediately shrugging out of his backpack to keep it from getting wetter than it already was.
“Hope you’re awake now, Artie!” the footballs jocks laughed before heading off towards class. Whispers and laughter arose from the crowd present, and Arthur hung his head. He couldn’t even muster the energy he needed to push himself up and go to the bathroom. When had he become such a wreck?
Something the colour of skin suddenly obstructed his view, and he drew in a sharp breath, his hand flying up to wipe it. He paled upon seeing what it was.
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“Shit.” He swore, realizing that his makeup was running, and that soon, the horribly ugly bruises beneath his eyes would show.
“Hey, you okay?” a voice suddenly asked from next to him. Arthur turned just in time to see innocent sky blue eyes blink at him, a hand extended in his direction. “Do you need help?”
Alfred.
Always swooping in to be the hero.
“Sod off.” Arthur grumbled, turning away and helping himself up on his wobbly feet. He lightly slipped on the puddle of water beneath him as he made a move to grab his bag, but Alfred was by his side in a second, steadying him by the shoulders.
“H-Hey, be careful, Artie-”
Oh, why had Arthur hoped that Alfred would at least be different?
“My name’s not Artie! Now unhand me, you bloody twat!” he yelled, violently pushing out of Alfred’s grip and stalking towards the nearest bathroom, leaving behind a bewildered and slightly hurt American who watched him go with a frown.
Once inside the bathroom, Arthur violently chucked his backpack at the wall, frustrated tears welling up in his eyes. Why couldn’t anything ever go right for him?
“Fuck my life.” He sighed, grabbing some towel papers and lifting his long bangs out of the way to wipe the running makeup off his face. As the skin-coloured foundation slowly came off, the purplish skin slowly poked out from below. Arthur hated looking at himself like this. It made him feel so weak, exposed and ugly.
He wasn’t one for looks, but with dark circles as severe as his under his eyes, questions would arise, and he hated receiving pity. So he just settled for makeup. It did the trick and hid his bruise-like bags perfectly, as long as it didn’t come in contact with water.
After cleaning and rinsing his face, he dried it off and fumbled through his backpack, pulling out a pod of foundation makeup and a stick of cover-up. Noticing he didn’t have long before the bell rang for class, he quickly drew random lines with the stick below and above his right eye, then smudged the cover-up accordingly to cover the entirety of the dark patch. Then, he grabbed his powder foundation and used the brush to cover any spots left.
Once he deemed it good enough, he stopped and started working on his left eye.
So engrossed in his work, he didn’t notice the approaching voices of people. He noticed too late as the door swung open and in strode 4 guys from his class.
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Arthur swore, shoving the stick and foundation in his pocket but forgetting the brush in his hand. He clapped another hand over his left eye just in case the bags were still showing and shook his head.
“Was that makeup I just saw?”
“N-No, it was uhh...” completely taken by surprise, Arthur stuttered before laughter made him look away.
“No way. Arthur Kirkland, the angry Brit who always sleeps in class and happens to be student council president wears makeup ?” another one choked out through strings of laughter, making Arthur redden in the face in embarrassment. Coupled with his sopping wet hair and dripping clothes sticking to his thin, bony body, he looked like the exact definition of pitiful.
“Oh man, I gotta tell the guys!” the leader laughed, catching Arthur’s attention. His eyes (or his only visible eye) widened in horror, and he put a hand out to stop them as they turned around to leave.
“N-No, wait, this isn’t what it looks like!” he tried protesting, cut off by more laughter, steadily getting farther as the boys exited the bathroom.
“Oh my god, Kirkland, you’re such a fag.” Was the last jeer he heard before his brain shut him out. Slowly, he leaned against the wall and let himself slide down, his clothes making squelchy sounds as he sat on them.
His lips pursed into a thin line, conflicting emotions giving him a headache (though he attributed it to sleep deprivation again). He didn’t know whether he should be angry, or sad, or vengeful, or just nothing. Right now, he was just so... confused. So confused with what he should be feeling, and so tired of thinking about it.
So he just sat there, against the wall, in a small bundle, not knowing if he should burst out into tears or completely cut the football team’s budget for the next three years to come.
“H-Hey, Arthur...?”
Oh. Oh, there was one left. Arthur couldn’t even find the energy to look up. He was sure he’d see the same worried blue eyes as last time.
“Go away.” He simply whispered. “Go laugh somewhere else.”
“I wasn’t gonna.” Alfred pouted, looking affronted. “I just wanted to know whether you needed help or not.”
“I don’t need your goddamn help.” Arthur muttered, staring at the tiles before pushing himself up and grabbing his backpack. “Tell the teacher I have urgent work to do in my office. I’m not going to class.” He simply informed him before pushing the door and exiting the bathroom.
Unfortunately for him, Alfred was by his side in a second.
“What’s wrong with your eye, though? Are you hurt?” he asked, eyes brimming with concern as he grasped Arthur’s frail (far too bony, were wrists even supposed to be that thin and pale?) wrist, trying to pry it away from his eye.
“I’m fine, just get to class, Jones.” The student council president snapped, slapping his hand away and stalking off. It seemed like his exhausted brain had decided on being angry after all.
Alfred could only watch in confusion and slight hurt as Arthur turned a corner and disappeared.
He just wanted to help... Why was Arthur pushing him away...?
And if Arthur were here and could hear those thoughts, he’d just let out an incredulous laugh and wonder how in hell he managed being so oblivious.
Phew, that's it for today! Author!anon loves your comments, but won't reply so she won't spam >_<" She still loves 'em, though~
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The scene between Arthur and his father was perfect -- I really do believe that emotional abuse and neglect are just as devastating as any form of physical abuse, so I'm glad you decided to take this route... I feel so sadistic. But anyway, you managed to inject real emotion into part four, and I had tears welling up and everything! As if his home life isn't bad enough, he gets bullied too?! I just want to give the poor boy a hug.
I do love how you've kept him so in character though-- being all angry and snarky even when he's crying on the inside. <3 I'm loving this fill and I can't wait for more!
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“So apparently, Kirkland is gonna cut the funds for the football team.” One of the football players announced at their table during lunch.
“The fuck? He can’t do that.” Another rolled his eyes at the empty threat.
“Of course he can, he’s student council president! He decides pretty much everything!” the one next to Alfred contested.
Alfred simply looked at his friends innocently, munching on his fourth hamburger as he watched the arguments and objections fly.
“We could complain to the principal if he does.”
“No way. We’d just tell the coach and he’d give that little bitch his just desserts.”
“Why would you even wait for the coach to make a move? If he cuts our funds, all we gotta do is beat him up after school.” Another suggested, clamouring replies of agreement arising.
Alfred felt his throat lock up.
“Uhhh... guys?” he choked, putting his burger down. “Is the violence really that necessary?”
“If he takes our money to give it to some pussy-ass chess club, then yes, we’ll have to give that little asshole a piece of our mind.” Another one cracked his knuckles, eliciting a few laughs from around him.
“But, uhh... You started it by mocking him...” Alfred pointed out, drawing a few incredulous stares from his group of friends.
“No, we didn’t. You did, Jones. You started it by telling on him every single time he tried to snooze off in class. Not that that’s a bad thing, but point is, you’re the main reason he hates us.” Another one noted.
Alfred’s breath hitched. So... Not only Arthur, but his friends were angry at him too...? But... he was just trying to have fun. Arthur’s reaction was pretty hilarious the first time... And the second time.. . And the third time... And the- Oh damn it all, Alfred had done it because Arthur’s expression had been priceless all 23 times.
“Were you planning on going against us, man?”
He didn’t want this. Things were going too far. He hadn’t wished to upset so many people.
Especially not Arthur.
Annoy him, yes. He wanted to insert himself in Arthur’s life and get closer to him through whatever means necessary, but he didn’t want the student council president to flat-out hate him...
“The hell, Alfred? Answer us!”
“I, uhh...” he fumbled around with his words, a ball forming in his stomach. He didn’t feel so hungry anymore.
“Tell us, Jones. You with us, or against us?”
“If you’re gonna insult Artie like that and gang up on him and beat him up and throw him into an alley, then yes, yes I’m against you. I want to protect Artie, I want to be his hero, I won’t let you touch a single hair on his-”
“With you.” He simply replied, shoving his burger in his mouth to avoid having to say more.
He would get Arthur’s attention, and no one could stop him.
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Alfred was so busy looking at Arthur that he almost missed the teacher calling out the group names.
“Alright, so we’re gonna make teams of 2, alphabetical order to keep things simple.” He then started pairing the students together while Alfred tried to figure out who his partner would be.
Jones, J... H, I, J, K... The first name in K would belong to...
The two boys seemed to make the same conclusion at the same time as they immediately turned to face each other, gapes on both of their faces. Alfred, out of delight...
“Jones, Kirkland.”
... And Arthur, out of horror.
It took a while for the two to get settled at their table, seeing as Arthur was adamant on not communicating with him. Sure, Alfred was delighted that he was in a team with his high school crush (don’t tell anyone, though. He didn’t want anyone making fun of him), but he would’ve liked teamwork better.
Besides, he liked chemistry, and really wanted to ace the test, Arthur or no Arthur.
“Alright, so we should get started. Could you pour the mystery solution in the Erlenmeyer? I’ll fill this burette with acidic solution during the meantime.” Alfred decided, letting Arthur handle his stuff while he concentrated on filling the burette with exactly 50ml of the given solution.
The two worked in silence, halfway through switching roles so that Arthur could continue with the burette while Alfred wrote something down in the report.
Arthur gulped down and looked at the laboratory gear, remembering that the teacher warned them that burettes were very fragile. He’d have to do something about his trembling hands if he was to do this correctly.
“Go on.” Alfred prompted, still writing down the analysis of what had happened up to now.
Not wanting to disappoint any more than he had to, Arthur nodded and gulped down, opening the burette latch and waiting for a millilitre to drop into the solution. When it did, he jerkily closed the hatch and pulled the Erlenmeyer out from under it, mixing the two substances together and watching for a colour change. The base substance, though, remained fuchsia red. Looks like they’d need more.
His hands shook, helping the mixing process a bit, but when he turned around to set his Erlenmeyer on the table again, a sudden wave of dizziness overtook him, and he stumbled, falling to his knees with a surprised yelp. The Erlenmeyer smashed against the floor, ruby liquid flowing through the cracks in the tiles.
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Through his apologizing, he heard students laughing and clapping cynically around them, partly masked by the sound of Alfred’s worried voice in his ear. Alfred was speaking to him. What was he saying? It was hard to understand when it wasn’t even him inside his own body. He felt like he was drifting away.
“Arthur... something... Stop...nothing... say...”
Arthur slowly became aware of a warm pair of arms circling his shoulders, supporting him in his sitting position. One hand was grasping his right one, and his left one was burning for some reason. Slowly, he felt his conscience being tugged back into his body, and the world suddenly rushed back. He jerked in Alfred’s arms and took a shaky breath, looking up at him. Panicked green met worried blue, and the world froze for a second before Alfred’s words rushed back to his ears.
“Arthur, please say something... Stop apologizing, it’s nothing... Just please say something else...” the blond was whispering, every word breathed so close to Arthur’s ear driving him that much closer to the edge.
“Uhh...” Arthur finally stammered, his gaze straying to the failed experiment on the ground. “Bloody hell, this sucks.” He dumbly muttered.
Above him, Alfred chuckled, relieved, and slowly pulled him up from the ground.
“That’s my Artie alright.”
“My name’s Arthur, and I don’t belong to you, bloody git.” Arthur swore before sharp pain assailed his left hand. Gasping, he clutched it to his chest, swearing softly. Suddenly, his hand was pulled away by the teacher, who inspected the shard of glass in his hand and sighed.
“Alright, Arthur, come with me. We’ll bandage your hand while Alfred restarts the experiment. You can just stick to filling the analysis afterwards.” He decided, gently leading Arthur away.
Once at reasonable distance, he sat Arthur down and pulled the first aid kit out, frowning.
“Why did you collapse?”
“Like I chose to collapse in the middle of an experiment.” Arthur huffed, putting his hand out.
“Were you injured before today?”
“No, but I have been feeling sick for a few days now. I just got hit by a wave of dizziness, is all.” He muttered, not telling the truth, but not lying either.
After so many years of practice, he’d figured out that the best lie was on the very edge of truth.
“Go get some rest at the infirmary.”
“I can’t, sir, I don’t want to let Alfred work alone.”
Lie. He just didn’t want to miss out on any more lessons... Or was it a lie at all? Maybe he subconsciously liked spending time with Alfred.
“Then after detention, go straight home to bed.”
“I will, sir.”
Lie. The winter dance’s blueprints still hadn’t been started and it was in a month. Plus, his father’s bedroom probably needed cleaning, judging by all the awkward noises that were coming from it at around 2 in the morning last night.
“And tell your father. He should take you to a doctor if the sickness persists.”
“I’ll tell him that.”
Lie. Big bloody lie. Like the man would even give a flying fuck what his son did in school. He couldn’t care less about his accomplishments, so why would he care about the bad things that came with school?
“Good. Now there, you’re all set. Get back to work and take it easy.” The teacher smiled, patting Arthur’s bandaged hand comfortingly. If Arthur were a cat, his fur would have bristled at the motion. “And remember, Arthur. If you ever need to talk...”
“I know, sir, I know.” Arthur muttered, swiftly turning around and heading back to his workstation, ignoring the furtive glances and whispers destined for him and him only.
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Thankfully, the teacher hadn’t commented on the measly three and a half pages he’d accomplished and had let him off with a warning.
The cold winter chill ran through his body as the wind howled. Snow would start soon, and Arthur was not looking forward to it. He sneezed into his scarf and buried himself tighter in his winter clothing, shivering when the still-humid patches of his clothing came in contact with the cold wind.
The last thing he needed was to get sick.
Thankfully, his father worked late on Thursdays and went to a bar after that, so Arthur had the house to himself until up to midnight. The downside was that his father came home with a whore (or two, sometimes) 50% of the time, so after midnight, there would be really loud sex until the early morning hours.
Arthur did his best to ignore it and get work done. He hated Thursdays.
Unfortunately for him, there was a surprise waiting for him when he stepped inside their flat. A package, with a note on it, destined for him. A delivery.
“Well shit. It’s my only day off from you and you still make me work my arse off. Bloody hell.” Arthur grabbed the package, ripping the instructions left for him off of it and glaring daggers at the address written on the yellow post-it.
Sometimes, his father would leave packages for him to deliver places. He never told him what was inside, but frankly, Arthur didn’t care. Whatever it was, it was getting them money, and it was helping them live. So Arthur did it.
And even though he felt light headed and knew that with this delivery, he’d probably be back in two hours, if not more, he quickly changed into his street clothes and slipped back into the darkness of the streets.
Sounded like another sleepless night to him. He really shouldn’t have made it a habit of accumulating those one after the other.
All this is accumulation for the climax, if you couldn't tell~ Also, let me warn you that I'm used to writing fanfiction and not kink meme fills, so my updates can and will be lengthy at times. Part 6 goes up to 6f OTL
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Loving lenghty updates.
Awww Arthur I just want to give him a hug.
But seriously, I the emotions in this are so correct....
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Saying Arthur felt like a zombie in the morning would be an understatement.
“I feel like a dead zombie that just rose up again, died, and rose up again. And died.” He groaned to himself (or to his fairy friend, which he curiously only seemed to see when he was extremely tired) as he crossed the street to school.
And if he were in a more rested state of mind that morning, he would have caught himself and kicked his own ass at how dumb he’d sounded with the previous sentence. But he didn’t, because his mind could barely register anything at all. His bag felt like lead, the books inside weighing heavily on his back like rocks.
Fortunately (or unfortunately, his tired mind argued with him), Arthur started the day with English, one of the rare classes he enjoyed and made genuine efforts not to fall asleep in, and then P.E, meaning he could take his time between the two classes.
Hopefully, the first period would wake him up. They were doing Shakespeare at the moment, a subject that reminded Arthur of England, his own home and friends, and of a better life. During English class, he couldn’t help but let a smile slip onto his face as he followed along the current reader as the students took turns narrating the play.
So engrossed in his perfect world of bliss and happiness, he didn’t notice when Alfred turned his gaze from next to him to check the page they were on, but noticed the small, almost shy smile on the Brit’s face instead.
The two boys spent the entire class with their stares frozen. Arthur drank in Shakespeare’s soothing, familiar words, to recall when he was feeling sad and lonely as Alfred worked on analysing, mapping and archiving the rarely serene expression on Arthur’s face, to remember when he was feeling rejected and lovesick.
Time seemed to pass too quickly for them, the shrill sound of the bell snapping them out of their trances simultaneously. Both packed up without another word and left with the crowd of students, towards the gym.
While Alfred was jumping up and down in glee at the prospect of P.E class, Arthur was mentally begging whatever god was willing to listen to him at that moment to spare him.
He barely had the energy to walk in a straight line (he actually had to use the walls to make sure his blurry vision didn’t fail him), much less run laps and play volleyball with a gang of football players.
The boys and girls separated at the changing rooms, each going their own way. A jeering cry of “Hey Artie, you’re in the wrong changing room!” reminded Arthur that he still needed to cut the football team’s funds, but asides that, he simply changed in relative silence, quickly slipping into his shirt and shorts and unknowingly blocking a pair of worried blue eyes from analysing his bony, too-pale body.
The simple action of stepping into the gym and smelling the heavy, sweaty air made another wave of dizziness rush to him, sending him grabbing for the nearest hold to keep him from falling. Once steadied, he took a deep breath and bravely ventured inside. At worst, he’d just take it light, to keep his blurry vision from taking him tumbling. Everyone knew P.E wasn’t his best subject, too, so he could get off easy if he acted it out right.
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“Alright, that’s enough warm up!” the gym teacher called once he thought he’d prepared (more like tortured, in Arthur’s point of view) the class enough.
The students, most of whom had run around three laps (Arthur prided himself in running one while in his condition. And he would kill anyone who made fun of him for it. Honestly, he felt horrible, but he wasn’t about to tell anyone that), all gathered at the front, listening for further instructions.
“Alright, everyone, make teams of two, and grab a volleyball. I want everyone to practice their sets, so get in teams and pass the ball to each other using overhead passes or forearm passes. Don’t let the ball fall.” He barely finished the instructions before the students were already rushing to grab their volleyballs and make teams.
Arthur stood at the side, not knowing what to do next. A hand was suddenly set on his shoulder, and he jumped, biting back a scream. His nerves really were dead after last night. Sluggishly, he turned and glared at the biggest nightmare in his life (one of many, he should say), or the biggest pretend-nightmare in his life, since he didn’t consider the American as more than a simple nuisance.
Oh wow, his brain really must have been fried for him to think that of Alfred.
Speaking of whom, Arthur guessed that by the way his lips were moving, he was asking to be in a team with Arthur to practice. Arthur actually pitied the poor kid, who would be stuck with him during the entire practice session. As if Arthur would be making effort to actually practice.
Not with the funny black dots exploding in his vision, he wouldn’t.
“Huh. Guess I got those because I pushed myself too hard while running. Amusing.”
Oh, yes. A wire was most definitely loose in his brain.
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Still, he convinced himself that -no, everything is NOT okay, Arthur, please get help before something bad happens, tell them everything, get some rest, you have to eat, you’re so small and frail and pale, this can’t be healthy for you, Arthur!- everything was okay and gave a slight nod to Alfred as he came back with the ball.
The first pass to him dropped right in front of him as Arthur realized he couldn’t even follow the ball’s movements correctly.
In an effort to participate and keep his facade up, Arthur clumsily chucked the ball at Alfred, who made a perfect pass back at him with his forearms, yelling at him to go get it and pass it back.
Putting all his energy into it (because deep inside, he found himself liking the pleased, hopeful expression on Alfred’s face as he encouraged him), Arthur made a move for the ball, half-stumbling, half-running for it and clumsily returning it to Alfred.
Even if it went completely askew, Alfred never gave up and kept cheering Arthur on as he ran for the ball, returning it right before it touched the ground.
“Run for it, Arthur!” he yelled enthusiastically, watching with slightly veiled worry as the student council president tripped over his own feet, stumbling towards the ball. He almost had it, he was so close... Alfred dropped into a receiving position, expecting Arthur to hit the ball, but...
Nothing came.
The ball just dropped in front of Arthur, bouncing and rolling away. The bushy-browed blond’s joint hands fell to his sides, and his eyes were closed by the time Alfred stomped to his side, disappointed.
“Arthur, seriously!? That was a perfect shot! You could’ve gotten that! Seriously, make some effort, because you’ve obviously got talent, but can’t use it! Maybe instead of sleeping during class, you could make some effort to study, and ask your friends to go play outside with you after school, because you have to practice to get better and show everyone that you actually can do something good!”
“J-Jones, I...” Arthur gulped down, unable to muster the strength to open his eyes and glare at the American. Who was he to berate him!? Who was he, to allow himself to scold Arthur like that!? Who was he to judge him like that!? “I-”
“Honestly, I’m doing my best, so please don’t push me away, I promise I’ll be better, Alfred, I promise I’ll get better, I promise I won’t make you mad, just please, please stop yelling at me, I don’t know how much I can take anymore and please, I just want you to accept me, I just want you to appreciate me, just please stop yelling and GOD, why don’t you respect me, Alfred? Why?”
Opening his mouth to say something, Arthur only managed a choked sob and a shocked sigh as his knees finally gave in, and he collapsed in the middle of the gym, unconscious.
Did that last thought sequence look familiar to you? Hmm... I tried to get this fic to radiate an aura of confusion and slight madness to reflect how hectic Arthur's life is getting, so extremely long and redundant thought sequences will be spotted throughout the fic. Just sayin' (:
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What a dumb question, of course he wasn’t okay, and Alfred could see that.
The shock just wouldn’t ebb away, though.
Why had he collapsed so suddenly like that? No warnings, no prompts, no reasons, nada!
Common sense suddenly rushed back to him as he noticed a small ring of students around them, whispering as they commented on Arthur’s pained expression, even in unconsciousness, or prompting Alfred to do something.
“Someone call the teacher!” Alfred finally yelled, snapping out of his trance. Arthur was in trouble, and this was his chance to be his hero. And he would be his hero, and he would save him from whatever was plaguing him, and he would make Arthur fall in love with him.
Because, well, he was Alfred F Jones. It was in his blood to be a hero.
“Alright, everyone, disperse, give the kid some room.” A trained voice came from behind them, and a line immediately opened for the teacher, who kneeled next to Alfred and Arthur, immediately checking for a pulse and steady breathing.
“What’s wrong with him? Why’d he collapse?” Alfred worriedly asked, a ball forming in his throat as many different scenarios rushed through his mind.
“He’ll be alright. Probably just pushed himself too far. He just needs some rest and he’ll be back on his feet in no time.” The teacher diagnosed, looking at Alfred. “Well, Alfred, you are pretty strong, so I guess you’ll do...”
“Do what?”
“Take Arthur to the infirmary. Gently now, hold him by the back and his knees...” the teacher guided Alfred’s hands under Arthur’s body, helping him lift the boy up bridal style. Alfred’s heart jumped in his chest when his brain realized how light Arthur was. That couldn’t be healthy, right?
“Like this?” Alfred nervously asked as he got up and straightened, Arthur’s head lolling against his chest. His still-bandaged left hand was cradled against his chest, his right arm hanging. All in all, he felt like dead weight in Alfred’s arms.
“Yes, perfect. Now, don’t rush, use the elevators, and make sure his head doesn’t hang.” The teacher told him before pointing at the door. “Get going.”
Ignoring their classmates as they joked on how much of a married couple Alfred and Arthur looked like, Alfred rushed out of the gym and towards the infirmary as quickly as he could without disturbing his Arthur.
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