Rehabilitation (12/?)
Title: Rehabilitation
Author: hetalialovesyou
Rating: PG
Warning: Alfred's potty mouth.
Summary: The aftermath of Arthur's departure. Take two.
Well, here's chapter Eleven. This time, in Alfred's point of view. Expect cursing. Haha. x)
It had been one week since Arthur left.
I found myself having to start everything over. Arthur told me it would be a fresh start. A clean slate. Clean slate, my ass. My life, my house, my heart-everything was empty.
Work was the only thing that kept me sane. Constant phone calls and meetings, I never really had time to think about anything else. This was a very good thing, trust me. Even when I had just a few minutes to myself I started to think. Thinking often led me to Arthur. This then ended up in me falling deeper into fucking insanity than I already was.
Every room in my house seems to remind me of him. The only place I think is a clear zone is Matthew’s room. I sleep in there sometimes. I’m too afraid to sleep in my own bed. Just the fact that Arthur had laid in it, especially on the night before he left-there were just some things I needed to try not to remember.
I’m a fucking mess.
I’m trying and trying to forget, but it’s impossible. Some hero I am. The word impossible isn’t even supposed to be in my dictionary.
I couldn’t even pretend to be normal. Matthew must be worried about me. I didn’t want that to happen. I never thought that losing Arthur would make me go this far off the edge.
The days were nothing like they used to be. I kept my back turned to the table as I cooked breakfast everyday, said goodbye to Mattie, and then turned around, expecting Arthur to be sitting there. Like he used to.
This morning I couldn’t even bear to walk into the goddamn kitchen. Now, what I normally do is sit on the living room floor. I can’t sit on the couch. That’s where Arthur and I used to sit all the time. It just seems like a sacred place that I’m not allowed to touch. Instead of breakfast I have a cup of coffee in my hands. I think it was my tenth cup, I’m not all that sure anymore. Even coffee doesn’t help me anymore. Shit.
As Mattie walked downstairs I felt a sudden guilt overcome me. He was still a little bit touchy about how I didn’t wake him up to see Arthur off. I just didn’t want to put him through it. Neither did Arthur. Damnit, I was thinking of him again. I really needed to stop doing that.
Today was my day off of work. That didn’t help that I was stuck at home. Well, I wasn’t stuck really; more like I was so friggin’ tired I didn’t even want to get off the floor. The car was too far away from me but I needed to go for a ride. Just to forget for awhile. But then again, Arthur had been in the car the day he left.
Fuck. Fuckity fuck, fuck.
“Have a good day at school, Mattie,” I managed to say after my downing the rest of whatever coffee I had in my cup. It was hard to talk to my own little brother. We used to be so close, but this…this feeling that was tearing about at my heart kept me away from other people. I closed myself away. But I didn’t want to do that to Mattie. I was all he had. I promised myself that I would make it up to him soon for being a wreck.
“’Kay,” I heard him say before shutting the door.
I hated being alone in this house. This day was definitely not going to be awesome.
----
A few hours later I realized that I had done nothing but stare at a blank television screen. I didn’t have the energy to get up, or eat, fuck; I barely had the energy to breathe.
I’m just pathetic.
With a groan I forced myself to get up off the floor. My shirt felt a little too loose on my body-which was weird seeing as how I had just bought it a few weeks ago. Then again, by barely eating and doing nothing but run around a ten story office building-losing weight is a given.
I was going to try and walk around the house. I needed to do something than just sit on the floor all day. I had to fucking do something.
Another cup of coffee seemed in order. I dragged myself over to the kitchen-which I still did not enjoy being in at all-and made myself make some coffee. At least I was being somewhat productive. I was honestly just glad that nobody had called me concerning work. Then again, if I wasn’t working I was utterly useless.
As I walked into the kitchen I felt as if I was going to fall over. My muscles ached, and this sudden headache caught me off guard. I remember feeling as if I was suffocating. The air in this room was so heavy-I was surprised I wasn’t gasping for air yet.
Alfred.
I swore I heard it. I wasn’t fucking dreaming. His voice was ringing in my ears, still fresh. Turning around I swear, he was there at the table. He was smiling.
What’s for breakfast, Alfred?
My angel. My beautiful green eyed angel. He had come back.
I scrambled over the table to hold him in my arms. But when I got to the chair, he was gone. A hallucination. Imaginary.
Fuck. I really was going out of my mind. This is why I didn’t like being in places Arthur always used to be-which was very hard seeing as how he had lived here for nearly a week. My memories screwed with my head.
Another hour had passed me by. I hadn’t even realized that I was on my second cup of coffee. I didn’t even bother to put the cups in the sink. They fell through my hands as I staggered back to the kitchen again. This time, to grab a beer.
I was being mentally tormented.
And I didn’t know if I could handle it.
---
I don’t remember what happened after that.
Only half way through the beer and I saw white flash before my eyes. There was this pain. Fucking terrible pain. It sort of caught me off guard.
Next thing I knew, Matthew was beside me. I could smell slightly burnt pizza. Goddamn. It smelled horrible. I tried to talk, but my head felt like it was going to burst into flames. I groaned instead.
I wanted to apologize. I was a fucking wreck, and no twelve year old should have to deal with their guardian acting this way. It was ridiculous. I wanted to apologize. To just hold him in my arms and tell him I was sorry for everything I was putting him through. I was supposed to protect him from everything.
I never thought I would have to protect him from myself.
After an hour or so of trying to get off the ground I heard the door open, and someone hauled me off the ground and put me on the couch.
Francis. Matthew had called Francis. Now, I knew I was definitely screwed.
“What happened, mon ami?”
My throat burned as I tried to speak. “Chest. Pain in my chest.”
He raised a brow and had me lay down on the couch. My eyelids grew heavier as he started to get after me. I think I heard him say something about hiding my coffee. When I tried argue Francis nearly waved his finger in my face and walked into the kitchen to answer a phone call.
I turned to Matthew who had just come back from stashing away my coffee, I guessed. “I’m sorry, Mattie. We’ll go to a movie or something fun tomorrow, okay? I promise.”
My voice sounded disgusting. I couldn’t help but wonder how I was able to speak in the first place. My throat was on fire. It felt raw.
He only smiled. And suddenly the guilt overcame me. I knew I would be in no condition to go anywhere but work tomorrow. Lying was wrong, but I had to at least put that sliver of hope back in Matthew’s eyes. But I think I needed that hope more than he did.
“Do you want pizza, or something? I had heated up a slice.”
If I had enough energy left in my body I would have held him. I would’ve said I was sorry for everything. But I couldn’t even sit up.
“Y-Yeah. That sounds great,” was all I could say before he walked back into the kitchen.
Once Matthew had gone off to bed, Francis sat beside me again. I opened my eyes, and I could see the stern look in his face. He wasn’t happy. I could tell. But I wouldn’t have been either if I was in his position.
“I’m sorr--”
He only held his hand up. I stayed quiet. It was probably better that way.
“The chaton left, so I see.”
I cringed just at the mention of Arthur. Hoping he didn’t notice I nodded, and avoided his stare.
Francis frowned. “And when did this pain in your chest start, mon ami?”
“After he left.”
After burning a fucking hole in my head Francis finally got off the couch and scribbled a phone number on a scrap sheet of paper he had in his pocket.
“I need you to call this number whenever you start to have chest pains, or any other kind of pain, yes? And if they do not answer, call me. You’re going to be just fine, do not fret.”
He left the piece of paper in my hand and smiled before heading for the door.
“You shall be yourself again in no time,” he assured me before opening the door to leave.
One could only hope.