Re: Same Job, Different Time and Place [R-18] - Part 4

[Assistant Jones]

They truly had been together for a long time and it was hard to remember just how their relationship was at the very beginning. So much had happened in nearly those two years and just to think that they were going to start planning on their wedding.

Alfred knew that they wouldn't be planning just yet considering that they still had to settle out the problem with their distance and their jobs before that became an option.

Soon enough he finished eating and he glanced down, smiling fondly at the sight.

He didn't want Arthur to be tired but he did keep him up all night the night before so he was probably to blame for the fatigue.

"You still awake?"

[Mr. Kirkland]

"Just," Arthur said after a few seconds delay. "'M... tired." He was just so comfortable and Alfred and the sofa were so warm - he didn't feel like he could get up right then. He could've probably stayed in this position for days.

Arthur could literally feel himself drifting off but he didn't care to try to move himself or do anything. Though his stomach suddenly lurched, causing him to grimace and clutch his stomach as the pain began to throb and his heart sped up. He'd be fine. He was used to this. He just wanted to sleep.

[Assistant Jones]

Alfred soon became concerned when Arthur suddenly clutched his stomach and he sighed. Hopefully he was eating well enough and that wasn't the reason for his stomachaches.

"Let's get you to bed then," He soothed as he soon shifted around a bit so he could at least try scooping the other in his arms.

Managing to get him in his arms, he easily stood up before heading towards the bedroom so he could lay his lover down on the bed.

"At least take off these clothes. Don't wanna have you sleep in your nice suit." He reached down to start undressing the other man.

[Mr. Kirkland]

Normally, Arthur would have protested but he felt too tired (and pathetically weak) to even attempt to argue with him. Arthur wriggled as Alfred placed him on the bed and started undressing him. He pulled his belt off, pouting like a petulant child disturbed from their nap and kicked off his trousers, letting Alfred help him with his shirt.

"It would've only been wrinkles... could have ironed it," he rambled sleepily. He felt another wave of pain course through him but tried his hardest not to focus on it, not to show any external signs other than the way his body tensed.

[Assistant Jones]

Alfred looked at Arthur and he sighed, rolling his eyes somewhat playfully as he saw the other wriggle around. He was like a child sometimes, despite everything.

"And you would have fussed about it the moment you woke up," He teased with a small grin. "I'm making things easier for you."

He hesitated as he saw Arthur's body tense and he couldn't help but feel concerned.

"Maybe we should take you to the doctor about that pain. It's no good if you're not going to be eating." He was too lazy to dress his fiancé up again so he left him undressed, instead also taking off his own clothes so he could lay down in bed next to him.

[Mr. Kirkland]

Arthur scoffed at that, letting his eyes close again.

"Get stuffed," he insulted, not meaning it. At the mention of a doctor, his eyes shot open and he shook his head frantically. "No, that's okay... I... I'm fine, Alfred, really. It's just stress from work, I promise." Lying right through his teeth, but what was he supposed to do? It wasn't as though he could tell Alfred what was going on. That would be disastrous and detrimental to their relationship.

"Who said I was in pain anyway? It's only cramps. Nothing I haven't dealt with before. I bet Katyusha has it worse than me."

He realised that he should probably shut up, lest he sounded more suspicious.

[Assistant Jones]

Alfred bit back a dirty comeback to Arthur's words and he just looked at his lover with the slightest bit of suspicion. There really was no reason for him to be suspicious but the way that his lover reacted to it surprised him. Was there something wrong with the doctor's?

Though he probably didn't want to spend time away from work at the doctor's place. Arthur always seemed to be that kind of man.

"Well, alright. But just make sure you take a break every once in a while also." He smiled at him encouragingly.

He just frowned.

"The way you tensed is all seems like you were in pain." Alfred sighed and he wrapped his arms around Arthur.

"Love you, Arthur. Please tell me if I can do anything to help you."

[Mr. Kirkland]

Arthur let Alfred pull him into an embrace as he climbed beneath the covers and exhaled softly. He nuzzled against Alfred's chest, kissing the bare skin there.

"I'm fine, really. Stop worrying," he slid his arm around Alfred's waist, allowing his hand to slide from Alfred's side down across his buttocks and over his thigh, just enjoying the fact that he could touch him.

"I'm just happy that you're here, love," he told him, masking his expression. Alfred couldn't know. He couldn't find out.

[Assistant Jones]

Alfred couldn't help but smile when Arthur slid his hand across his bottom and over his thigh. In the end, they really couldn't help keep their hands off each other. Instead he cuddled even closer to his boyfriend, chuckling a bit.

"I'm happy that I'm here also. I wish I could just stay, y'anno?" He murmured somewhat sleepily, enjoying their bare skin being pressed together. It was a nice feeling to be able to sleep with his lover again.

It definitely beat sleeping in bed alone for countless nights, hoping that the day that they would meet again would just hurry up.

"You haven't been getting in trouble while I was gone, right?" He asked with a small teasing smile.

[Mr. Kirkland]

"What a load of tolly rot," Arthur smirked somewhat, eyes closing yet again. He was just so comfortable lying beside Alfred, in his arms.

"I wish you could stay, too," he admitted sadly, feeling his mood darkening fast. He sighed shakily and pulled Alfred closer, wrapping Alfred further around him. "Let's enjoy the time we have together, alright? No fighting this week. It's too hard without you to... ugh, I'm so tired, can I sleep?" he was talking against Alfred's skin, lips sort of mushed against one of Alfred's pecs.

"We'll have a nice evening tomorrow, I promise..."

[Assistant Jones]

"What the hell is tolly rot anyways? It doesn't sound pleasant," Alfred admitted with a small grimace.

He let himself be pulled closer to him and he just smiled.

"Yeah. Go to sleep. I won't keep you up any longer." He instead wrapped his arms around Arthur and pulled him closer to himself.

"I'm looking forward to it."

He soon closed his eyes, just enjoying the warmth of Arthur against him. He wished he could stay like this forever.

[Mr. Kirkland]

"I'm not sure, actually," Arthur mused and snuggled ever closer. "Mm... good night," he breathed out slowly, trying to put his mind at ease as he drifted off to sleep in the arms of the man he would marry.

[Assistant Jones]

It was a few hours later into the night that Alfred's phone rang, which quickly got the American to go scrambling for his phone.

He didn't want to pull away from the warmth and to be honest, he just wanted to sleep but he knew that ringtone was his brother.

Quickly answering it, he yawned and rubbed his eyes.

"Hello?" He whispered, trying to lay back in bed. Matthew sounded frantic and he soon jumped up.

"Wait! Really!? H-Holy fuck!" Alfred exclaimed, eyes wide and his heart thrumming, almost forgetting that his lover was right there trying to sleep.

[Mr. Kirkland]

Arthur had been having a pleasant dream about having a fix when Alfred jumped up out of the bed, suddenly removing himself from Arthur's grip. The Brit jolted upright, eyes wide as he looked around anxiously, checking for the intruder he'd always worried about getting in. He told Alfred they should have added more locks to the door! And made the windows more secure! Who fucking cared that they weren't on the first couple of floors, it was possible for someone to still bloody break in!

He was irritated upon the discovery that Alfred was just on the phone. He swore at the American groggily and dropped back on to the bed with a groan. He glanced at the clock by the bed and saw that it was two AM. And swore some more, rolling to bury his face into his pillow.

"Who the fuck is it?"

[Assistant Jones]

Alfred gave Arthur an apologetic smile, feeling bad for waking him up though he shifted around.

"It's Matt." He paused for a moment, listening to his brother talk and nearly freak out. It was odd, especially considering how calm his brother always seemed to be but to hear him so worried...it was actually rather endearing in an odd way.

"Katyusha is in the hospital right now. She's in labour."

He still felt bad that he woke up Arthur, especially considering how bad the older man was when it came to being woken up. But his excitement about getting possibly a nephew and niece overwhelmed his guilt.

[Mr. Kirkland]

Arthur muttered something incoherent (probably more curse words) and rolled on to his back again. He blinked up at Alfred in the darkness and arched an eyebrow.

Labour. What a lovely thought.

He made himself sit up and rubbed his eyes tiredly, leaning back against the headboard.

"Are they alright?"

[Assistant Jones]

Alfred soon leant over so he could casually run his hand through Arthur's hair, wanting to stay close to him.

He wished that they could have children together but he didn't know whether Arthur would even want that if that was ever possible. He didn't really want to worry himself too much about the thought. Right now Matthew needed the reassurance.

"Yeah they're alright. Kat will probably be out soon though hopefully. But it seems as if they're going to have twins."

[Mr. Kirkland]

Arthur continued to grumble, despite Alfred's hand in his hair. He, personally, hadn't even thought about kids. He'd just assumed that because he was gay, he wasn't going to have any children. But the world was a different place now, and he could have kids if he chose to.

"Twins...? The poor woman." Arthur grimaced, looking away into the darkness of the room. "If it's almost over, Alfred, he should be in the delivery room with her or he's going to miss the birth." He paused and frowned, "If it's almost over," he repeated, "then what the devil possessed him to phone us so early in the sodding morning? I have to be up for work in five hours."

[Assistant Jones]

Alfred just sighed and gave Arthur a withering look.

"Arthur, be a bit more sympathetic. It's my fault for waking you up."

He focused his attention back on the phone.

"Well, congrats Matt. Go be with Katyusha and call me later on how the babies are." He smiled.

"Love ya' too, bro. Night."

He sighed and turned off the phone. He wanted to hear more about Katyusha and how she was but Arthur was of course being grumpy considering he just woke up.

[Mr. Kirkland]

The withering look went a-miss in the dark and Arthur just grunted in response to Alfred. He lay back on the bed and closed his eyes, trying to reclaim sleep.

But he did feel a little bad when Alfred sighed. He pursed his lips, pulling the covers back over himself haughtily.

"If you'd like, we could always go and visit them this weekend, seeing as you're up here for a few days...?"

[Assistant Jones]

Alfred soon laid down on the bed next to Arthur again and he stretched out, sighing somewhat.

"Maybe we can. It'll be quite a drive though but I'll have to check with Matt later."

He soon wrapped his arms back around Arthur, cuddling close to him.

"Sorry for waking you up."

[Mr. Kirkland]

Arthur shrugged.

"You want to meet your potential nieces and nephews. We could book into a hotel for the weekend so that we're out of Matthew and Katyusha's way, considering that parenting is... um, difficult in the first few months." He was happy to shuffle backwards into Alfred's grip, spooning with him.

"It's alright... just let me sleep now, okay? I love you. Good night."

[Assistant Jones]

Alfred just nodded and he yawned tiredly, the exhaustion finally hitting him like a bag of bricks again.

"Love you too, babe. Good night," He mumbled as he pulled Arthur closer.

That would be nice. Even if he didn't get to meet them now, he could always try meeting them next time he was up in the north.

It just reminded him that he was just going to be away from everyone he loved again by the end of the week. He was going to miss Arthur, grumpiness and everything.

He soon tried to fall asleep.

[Mr. Kirkland]

The next few days were blissful for Arthur, being with Alfred every evening when he came back from a long day at work. The weekend was spent in Ottawa, Canada in a little hotel that Alfred had found on some sort of app, or the like. Arthur honestly had no idea. But it wasn’t too shabby. It had been nice to Alfred cradling the babies, Luke and Sofiya, in his arms. He would have made such a good father. He could tell by the look on Katyusha’s face that she agreed. It hurt a little to know that Arthur would never truly be able to give him that… but from the way that they made love the following night, it seemed that Alfred didn’t mind that much.

The farewell had been hard, but that was to be expected, honestly. Arthur hadn’t let himself cry in Alfred’s presence, again. He waited until Alfred was gone to break down. It took two hits of cocaine for him to calm his nerves, though it also made him order a God-awful amount of food, which made him throw up because there was just so much. In future, he promised himself that he would keep the takeaway menus somewhere other than the bookcases, just in case he was tempted to do this ever again.

But it got worse. Video calls really just weren’t enough anymore, nor were phone calls. It just made Arthur feel all the more empty and drug-dependant. It got to the point where there were some days that Arthur would have a smoke (combining crack and tobacco in his roll-up) before work until he was high, just so that he could cope with the hours he had to keep his mind on other things. He worked late, he rarely ate; when he got high, he tended to exercise a lot, which kept his new-found muscles intact. He really was getting skinny again. His wrists were incredibly slim, his Omega watch he’d gotten for Christmas from Ludwig barely fit his wrist anymore. He was not well and he knew it but he couldn’t stop. He was too deep to stop now, he just had to try to not let it control him. Though he wasn’t doing a particularly good job of that. It hurt too much to even go a day without it. And fuck, was it costing him a lot of money. Arthur had always been pretty good with his finances, so it wasn’t as though it was bleeding him dry but there were days that he would start considering selling some of his prized possessions just to get money for more. Though he never did.

In June, Arthur found himself being invited to a celebrity-filled party of Angélique’s. Apparently she had gotten his number from Feliciano. Arthur hadn’t been so sure at first – he wanted to go, but he was worried about what Alfred would say. That and Arthur hadn’t let Alfred see him on camera for around three weeks, because he knew that he was gaunt and the effects were showing on his face. No one had really questioned it at work, though Gilbert had started trying to organise more things for them to do, as he was able to see that Arthur was struggling without Alfred. Which was kind of sweet, Arthur supposed.

So, over the phone, he got Alfred’s reluctant consent to attend the party, on the condition that he text Alfred when he got home and that he let him know if anything happen.
Arthur hadn’t been overly excited about this damn party (other than seeing Angélique after so long) but… it would be rude not to attend, as Angélique personally sought him out to send him an invitation and she was such a lovely woman. He couldn’t possibly say no. Her home was a very lavish penthouse apartment at the top of a tall building; the type of thing Arthur had only ever thought existed in hip hop music videos. There were a lot of faces that Arthur recognised from magazines and films, though he couldn’t name any of them for the life of him. Alfred was the one that was good with popular culture, not him.

“Arthur!” he was greeted with a kiss on the cheek by the ever-beautiful Angélique, who looked a lot more casual than the last party they’d both attended at Christmas. Her t-shirt was tight and revealed a tasteful amount of cleavage – not that Arthur noticed, of course… “Come, let’s get drinks,” she lead him across and through to her kitchenette, where lots of people were gathered and trying to chat away from the speakers playing loud music in the other room. It reminded Arthur of his youth and the hours he spent at parties.

“Your home is incredible,” Arthur told her, barely audible in comparison to the thump, thump from next door. She grinned up at him, a little tipsy and handed him some drink Arthur didn’t know the name of, but it tasted nice so he couldn’t complain. It was green; Absinthe perhaps…? Or apple Sourz. He fucking hoped not.

“It’s not my home. My home is in the Seychelles… this is just where I live,” she went from laughing to appearing a little sad, mind clearly somewhat foggy from the alcohol. Arthur regretted mentioning anything immediately and downed the rest of his drink, setting it to the side. It burnt the back of his throat. He knew how it felt to be away from one’s home country and the dull pain at the mere mention of it.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked, somewhat unsure about it as Alfred was the only person he’d danced with for a long, long time. But before he could change his mind, Angélique had perked up and nodded enthusiastically.

“But no ballroom this time, okay?” she teased, putting down her drink.

“No, of course not,” he chuckled, a little nervous. She grabbed his hand and led him out to the small crowd in the middle of the main room. She was cheered and greeted by various individuals as they passed through and Arthur began to feel even more nervous, already craving a hit just so that he could calm his nerves. He was sure he’d be able to find a dealer out of the dozens of people at the party. He’d run out last night.

Angélique smiled devilishly at him and pulled him close, hands on his ribcage as she tried to encourage him to sway his hips from side to side like she was doing. Arthur didn’t really know what to do with his hands and ended up having to have her guide him to have his hands on her waist. She seemed not to be deterred by his hesitance though it was clear that she was deliberately making sure not to get too close to him lest he pulled away (because they both knew he would). But it was so warm in that room. Unbearably so. It was probably hotter than that club Alfred and he had gone to on their first ‘date’ that Arthur had so casually instructed him to remove his shirt, and like the idiot Alfred could be, he did. He hoped that the American wasn’t being that gullible down in Florida.

Arthur couldn’t help but question if the way she was dancing was what he looked like when he danced with Alfred on the rare occasion nowadays that they went out together (even rarer now with the separation). The way she flicked her hair off of her slender shoulders, rolled her hips flawlessly in time to the beat, sweat beading on her skin, all the while looking sexy as hell and making Arthur feel even hotter. He could feel her hands slipping down his sides and – Jesus, what had been in that drink? His head felt so light already – moving to hold his hips, hands holding tight enough to feel the bone there beneath his clothes and flesh. His eyes were half-lidded as he realised just how much she was staring at him and he pulled away a little, holding her hands in his own as he opted for a less sexual form of dancing, trying to enjoy the wordless dance music booming in the background.

Her expression fell somewhat though it was only for a moment before she reached up to kiss his cheek (again), missed and kissed his ear instead. He ignored the way he shuddered, putting it down to lack of human-on-human.

“Going to greet guests, see you later,” and she was gone. Arthur was pretty sure that he was at least half-mast at the moment. Hopefully no one else would see. What if someone knew Alfred, told him and Alfred got the wrong idea? Fuck, that’d be bad… and now he definitely needed a hit. Weed would do. He was confident that there would be someone, somewhere doing it.

It didn’t take him long, with a bit of exploring of Angélique’s house, to find some people smoking cannabis. He joined them for a spliff or two… or three and paid them enough to stop them from moaning about it. Though, God, was he high. So high he couldn’t really concentrate. He got talking to some kid going on about being a model. But it’s then that Arthur’s memory went black.

Next thing he knew, it was three in the morning. Arthur felt really cold, for some reason. He stared blearily up at the ceiling, he could still hear music playing but it was much quieter than it had been earlier. A lot of people must’ve left or something. With a groan, he shifted and was pleasantly surprised to find he was on a bed. So why was he so cold? He looked down at his body, trying to see where his clothes had been dishevelled. To his horror, Arthur found out that he was totally naked; his dick was all tingly. He sat up and regretted moving so quickly as his stomach lurked a little, mostly from the alcohol. He had a tendency to take off all his clothes when he’d been drinking, that wasn’t abnormal but… Angélique was lying beside him, fast asleep. Arthur assumed that she wasn’t dressed, judging from the fact that he could see most of one of her breasts.

Arthur stopped and stared at her, though not out of lust. Had he…? Did they…? Alfred. Fuck. It certainly explained the tingly feeling he felt but… no. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Sure, he found Angélique arousing but that didn’t mean anything, did it? Fuck. Fuck.

“Fuck,” he leapt from the bed, stumbling over a body on the ground of another man. There was a used condom beside him, which he seemed to have failed to tie up. It was dripping on to the floor. Arthur cringed, his stomach churning.

So, he might have not only cheated, but he’d had a threesome? It wasn’t the first time but… Alfred. Oh God. Arthur felt as though he was going to throw up. He was disgusted, ashamed, hurt. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, as though it was going to burst out of his chest. He had to stay calm. Had to. Couldn’t lose it. Couldn’t. It wasn’t actually as though he would have done something like this. He’d been loyal even to Francis when the other hadn’t been loyal to him. When in love, Arthur was stubborn.

But it didn’t explain why he was nude on a bed with Angélique. That was when he spotted a white powder on the wardrobe by the door, ready for someone to come and snort. Arthur was pretty sure it was cocaine. In reality, he didn’t really care what it was, he just needed something to calm his nerves. He felt so fucking anxious, it was awful. This was awful. Everything was just so fucked.

He pulled on his clothes haphazardly, unable to find his boxers (though he didn’t look that hard, the room was too dark to see). He checked the door to see if anyone was coming and then did the line set out on the tin foil. His nostrils burnt afterwards and he choked a little, but that was natural. His heart hammered in his chest as he stumbled out of the bedroom (still drunk from earlier; he couldn’t remember how much he’d had to drink but Jesus was it coming back for round two), returning to the main room where he spotted a very familiar face.

“Francis?” he slurred, eyebrows arched as he approached the other man, wobbly on his feet. Francis was leaning close to some young brunette woman, undoubtedly whispering dirty words to her in French. He’d used to do that to Arthur, even before Arthur learnt what he was saying. At the time, he’d always liked how incredibly respectful Francis was in the sense that he would not be overtly sexual in public, he preferred the intimacy of privacy… but yes, then Arthur learnt that Francis was telling him naughty things which to this day made him blush.

“Arthur,” the Frenchman greeted with a pleasant smile, clearly a little intoxicated. He was holding cup (not his usual glass; Francis had probably complained that he had not been provided a wine glass, actually) of white wine in one hand, turning away from the girl he’d been chatting to, who seemed to lose interest somewhat at the sight of Arthur. Francis’ smile disappeared as he noticed that there was a light dusting of white on Arthur’s nose, that his pupils were dilated and his hands were shaking.

“Why are you here?” Arthur asked, trying to keep his voice steady despite the way his heart was racing in his chest.

“You phoned me an hour ago and asked me to come. You said you wanted to see me for whatever reason but then I met the lovely Maria,” the Frenchman glanced at the woman stood next to him.

“Francis…” Arthur’s voice wavered. “I need to go. Please. Can I stay at yours? I can’t…” he felt his eyes beginning to water. “I can’t go home tonight. Not tonight. Please, Francis? Please? I can’t. I –”

There was a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, effectively silencing him. He saw Francis give the girl his phone number on a small card and bid her farewell. As the two made their way to exit the building, Francis phoned a taxi company and helped Arthur down the stairs.

“Are you okay?” Francis’ voice was quieter as they headed down the stairs, away from the loud music. Arthur chose not to answer, however, just grunting in response. He was slung into the taxi and Francis got in beside him. Arthur leaned his head against the window as he tried not to concentrate on the way that Francis’ knee was lightly touching his in the small space, his head spinning and chest aching. He wanted to be sick.

He sighed a shuddering breath just as his stomach rumbled, loudly. Francis looked vaguely amused as he looked across to Arthur.

“Do not say that you pulled me away from une femme because you’re hungry and want some of my delicious cooking, uh?” he looked smug and Arthur scoffed, shaking his head.

“Actually, I haven’t eaten for three days.”

That brought the conversation to a halt. Arthur could predict the expression Francis had; he probably looked quite sad. He swallowed thickly, hating the feeling of Francis’ gaze. Arthur couldn’t stop twitching and moving, jigging his leg for most of the journey. The man mumbled something Arthur couldn’t quite make out, in French and paid the taxi driver when they arrived some twenty minutes later.

Arthur tumbled out of the car and followed Francis up to his apartment. It was then that Arthur began to realise that this wasn’t Antonio’s place. Anyway, he didn’t care. Couldn’t care. He was too hot and felt like he was going to suffocate. He stripped himself of his shirt and tie.

“I’m fucking boiling,” he complained, allowing his shirt to fall to the ground. He caught Francis staring at him for a moment, probably comparing his body to how Arthur used to look. “Where’s Antonio?” Arthur asked and Francis visibly drooped, sighing.

“We… we’re taking a break.”

“A break?”

“Oui.”

“What are you, fucking Rachel and Ross?” Arthur snorted, folding his shirt and putting it down on the sofa. His heart was still beating really fast, his chest was hurting.

“Con,” Francis scowled and went to the kitchen area.

“Sorry.”

“De rien. Now, you must be hungry.” Francis went to the fridge and Arthur found himself watching him carefully. Francis… he was so like he used to be, just a little older-looking and mature. Francis was still beautiful. Arthur really wasn’t what he had been in his youth, and certainly wasn’t what he had been in December. He looked like the ghost of the man he was before Alfred left. Alfred was still beautiful, too. So beautiful that every time Arthur saw a picture of him in the flat, it made him want to weep. He was so perfect, dimples and all. God, he missed him. He missed him so much.

Francis couldn’t see a lot inside of the fridge that would be fast to make. He wasn’t very keen on ‘fast food’, preferring to make an effort with his meals to sustain a healthy diet. He wouldn’t stay so sexy-thin if he ate like a pig. He could feel Arthur approaching him, hearing his heavy, drunken steps approaching him. He closed the fridge door in case Arthur tried to push him inside.

“Arthur?” he asked, a little concerned before he was suddenly seized by his shoulders and whipped around so his back slammed against the refrigerator and he was facing Arthur, allowing himself to lose his calm expression. Arthur reached forward forcefully and groped him through his trousers. It was too gruff to be pleasant. This would only end badly, whether Arthur dropped to his knees or tried to tear it off – both concepts made the Frenchman incredibly nervous. “Arthur,” he repeated, trying to smooth out his expression, unmoving, “what are you doing?”

Arthur’s eyes were distant and sad as he leaned in, lips ghosting Francis’ as he foggily looked at Francis. He didn’t answer.

“You’re drunk, Arthur,” Francis told him gently. “And… you’ve taken something haven’t you?” they were looking into each other’s eyes, tense as the air grew thick around them. “What did you take, Arthur?”

The Brit’s resolve seemed to break down.

“Weed earlier… I think I had cocaine. I don’t know what it was, if I’m honest. I can’t… I can’t remember. My chest really hurts…” Arthur swallowed thickly, not moving away. Francis was beginning to feel very uncomfortable, trapped; though his eyes softened as he looked at his old friend.

“You miss him, don’t you?” Francis asked softly, though they both knew the answer. That seemed to do it for Arthur. The Brit bit his lip as his expression crumbled. Before he could really cry, he hid his face in Francis’ neck, hand falling away from the other’s crotch (much to Francis’ relief).

“I miss him so much. I can’t… I can’t do this anymore, Francis. I just can’t. I love him too much. It – it hurts.”

Francis felt teardrops on his neck and slowly wound his arms around Arthur, embracing him in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

“Pauvre petit,” he sighed, nuzzling the side of Arthur’s head. That little sigh made Arthur think of all of the times those same arms had been wrapped around him as Francis had sighed “je t’aime, je t’aime” into his ear as they made love; fingernails digging into Arthur’s back to mark him and claim him as his own. And it made him feel all the more guilty.

“I think I had sex with someone,” Arthur choked out and Francis hesitated, though only for a moment as he continued to pet Arthur reassuringly.

“Why do you think that? Can you remember it?”

“No,” Arthur shook his head.

“Then how do you know?”

“I… I woke up next to her in –“

“Her?!” Francis gawked.

“Yeah,” Arthur mumbled, ashamed. “I’ve been really missing Alfred lately and I haven’t… we haven’t had sex for months now.”

“I don’t think you had sex with her,” Francis assured with a small chuckle, Arthur backed away and made a sour face.

“Do you think I’m incapable, you horrid, French-“

“Do you remember when we were together, you were very… excited to see me turned on whilst reading some dirty magazine? Your, uh, ‘Big Ben’, went straight down at the sight of breasts, mon ami. I don’t think you could physically do it. And you are disgusted by the idea, ouais? Une vagin?”

Arthur grimaced at first then slowly began to nod, his head was starting to feel weird.

“I do not think you had sex. Alors, go and have a shower whilst I make you food, okay? You need to come down from the drugs and the alcohol,” he gently nudged Arthur in the direction of the bathroom. “There are towels on the rack. I will have a meal ready for you when you are done.”

Francis patted Arthur on the bum jokingly and Arthur swatted his hand away aggressively before heading to go and have a shower, mumbling about perverted Frenchmen on the way. Francis smirked as he held Arthur’s phone (which he had just stolen from Arthur’s back pocket) in his hand and scrolled through the contacts until he found Alfred.

“Salut, Alfred?”

[Assistant Jones]

Alfred definitely enjoyed his time with Arthur in April and he just wished that he could continue on staying with him. It broke his heart to have to leave his lover again. He wished he could just drop his job and forget everything and just return to his fiancé. Wouldn't that be the best? He missed him so much? Who cared about his dream job or anything like that? He wasn't happy.

Of course he was taking it a lot better than Arthur in the end of everything. He never turned to drugs or alcohol.

Of course there were many lonely nights and he had hoped that his visit to New York City would have actually improved their relationship. And it did for a bit but then again they were back onto that stage where Arthur didn't want to talk nearly as much. He always tried to be optimistic and get from work early so he could contact his lover. But it was seeming to work less and less each time they went on.

Then soon enough Arthur wouldn't even show himself on the video camera.

That was when Alfred truly became concerned for his lover's wellbeing. He trusted him enough to not do anything silly but there was somewhat of a suspicion. He hadn't heard anything from his friends though except of Kiku who told him a few times here and there that Arthur looked more and more tired and thin each time he saw him next.

But it wasn't as if he could just drop his whole job and go to Arthur just to check if he was actually alright.

But Arthur was becoming less and less of the man he grew to know and love. He still loved him with all of his heart though but it was starting to wear him down somewhat. He wanted to hold strong for him but it was just becoming so hard considering how much more secretive his lover was being. Everything would be better though when Arthur came down to Florida.

Right?

Of course it would be. He was certain of it.

Unfortunately it didn't seem as if they could wait even that long. The night before, Arthur called him and told him that he was going to a party. Truthfully, Alfred was happy that his lover was going out to party, even if it was Angelique's party. He wasn't all that fond of her still, even knowing that Arthur was as straight as a bendy straw. He never appreciated her advances towards Arthur but he trusted him enough not to do anything. After all, they were going to get married and he loved this man and trusted him with all of his heart.

Of course he set up the conditions that he would have to be messaged after it.

He still hadn't received that message though and his worries were starting to bubble up within him. Hearing the phone and seeing Arthur's name, Alfred's eyes widened and he quickly answered it.

"Arthur?" He asked quickly but soon he hesitated hearing the French accent. He knew that voice.

"...Francis? Is Arthur okay?"

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