QUIET

7

 Alfred stood in front of the sturdy oak doors that were the barrier between him and the rest of the personas. He had marched himself over here and was just about to walk in but he now found himself stalled, unwilling to move. He could hear the murmur of voices through the door. It wasn't as chaotic as usual, voices were low and calm. It was nice, but Alfred could hardly focus on what was going on behind those doors because the current dilemma was the searing pain in his right arm.

The initial shock had all but worn off leaving Alfred stranded with the horrible pain of a broken bone. He wanted to run away, go to the hospital, or even quickly off himself. And this time it's not just because he was depressed, if he did it carefully his body would heal as part of the reconstruction process and bone would mend itself. In fact, Alfred had heard stories of some Personas using suicide as a tactic in wars to heal themselves but those stories are old. Either way, it seemed like the easiest solution right now but there was one problem that kept Alfred stuck at this door. It was just one question, what would everyone think?

 Alfred didn't care too much about missing work, no work ever got done at these meetings anyway but appearances, that is what mattered to him. Would anyone notice and if they did would they care? Alfred didn't think so but then the worried face of his brother was conjured into his brain and he became nervous. He rarely missed meetings... well okay, that's a lie, but he usually gave a warning beforehand if he was going to miss one. Alfred also worried about how long it might take him to fully recover and what method he could use. He would need to do something clean and that he could recover from very quickly, that was a hard combo. Then where would he even do it? The hotel was out of the question, it brought back images of that poor housekeeping maid who found him the first time. But going off into the woods wasn't a good idea either, animals could get at him, and then who knows how long recovery would take. Alfred sighed his mind was racing with all the fears and things he didn't want to think about all while the pain was building. It was too much. Alfred felt stuck here on the verge of an indecisive breakdown. He didn't have the energy or ability to figure out what to do so he stood here at this impasse. He wished he could just die right here and not come back.

"I hope Alfred's doing okay, he's been gone for a while" it was a recognizable, soft voice that somehow slipped through the oak barrier and reached the American's ears.

"Ah the burger king's probably just got some indigestion he's fine, he'll be here any minute."

"I- I don't know, maybe someone should go check on him?"

Alfred grabbed the handle with his good arm and yanked open the doors, marching to his seat with a wide smile. Nobody really noticed except Mathew who had a relieved expression.

"Hey, ya missed me?" Alfred quipped jokingly.

Mathew just smiled and Arthur laughed.

"Nobody ever misses you bloody Yankee" he joked jabbing at Alfred with his elbow, hitting Alfred in what just so happened to be a broken arm.

Alfred took a sharp breath and pushed his seat out away from the Englishman which startled him and he looked confused but Alfred quickly and desperately tried to act natural, laughing at Arthur's joke "Good one dude." Arthur still looked a little confused but didn't say anything.

This meeting was going to be a long one.

Alfred managed through the rest of the day, his arm hurt like hell and he suspected he didn't set it right... honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if it was absolutely destroyed. But he sat there in silence with a smile on his face, By the end of the meeting he was nearly delirious with pain and unable to think of anything else. It's kinda weird, you'd think after dying in so many gruesome ways a broken arm would be the least of his troubles but apparently having to live through hours of pain is way worse than the quick deaths he's administered thus far. Who knew? Either way, when those sweet words of release "Alright, that wraps it up for today-" echoed through the meeting hall Alfred was already halfway out the door without looking back. He zoomed through the halls, putting his good ol' world superpower strength to use. And he was not stopping for any-

"Alfred, hold up you git!"

The words had the effect of nails on a chalkboard to his ears and Alfred internally screamed profanities but he politely turned around greeting the English-man.

"Heyyy bro-ho, what's up?"

Arthur shook his head in some disappointed cringe, "Alfred, well" Arthur paused gathering his words, "I thought it's been a while since we've seen each other outside of these meetings so I was just wondering if you'd like to join me, Francis and Mathew?"

No, no nope, nuh-uh, not happening, no way- "...sure" Alfred responded slowly.

Arthur raised a bushy brow at this, "You don't sound very sure?"

"I'll be there dude, count on it, I just have to go right now I have tons of paperwork and I don't want the boss to get mad ya' know?"

"Oh well, we were thinking of going right now, would that work for you?" Arthur asked awkwardly.

Alfred's heart sank, it made all the more logical sense to say no, to go deal with his broken arm before it got worse, to manage the pain, but... he couldn't. He had in all this time kept up this facade, this happy easygoing appearance. It didn't matter if he had hung himself the night before, he would still go to meetings, smile, and laugh. Why stop now? How could he stop now, was it even possible to ask for help at this point. No... he was a lost cause, and either way, he wasn't really worth helping. There were so many other bigger problems than a stupid immortal who's selfish enough to want to die.

"Oh, okay dude, what's the worst boss man's gonna do? Fire me? It's not like he can really find a replacement." They both chuckled, a dry, awkward laugh.

"Alright well, come on then Yankee!" The Brit called, leading the American away from his escape. Alfred considered for a split second turning and running right then, fixing his shattered arm or resetting... but his chance was gone. His decision was made and now he was stuck dealing with this throbbing pain for the rest of the night.

He followed his former colonizer to a shiny red car of which Francis had apparently claimed shotgun and Mattie was sitting quietly in the back. Alfred slid into the backseat with Mathew greeting them as he got in.

The car hummed to life and sped off to wherever the Englishman was taking them while arguing with the Frenchman. While it was loud and irritable, Alfred was a little thankful for the mask of noise rather than awkward silence. Alfred had settled into staring out the window when he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. He turned to see his brother's round eye and his mouth moved as he spoke but Alfred couldn't make out what he was saying over the death threats.

He leaned in, "What did you say?"

Mathew repeated and little louder and closer to Alfred's ear

"You seem a little off, are you okay, I'm sorry about making you do a flip earlier"

"WE'RE HERE"

Both Mathew and Alfred were torn from their conversation to Alfred's relief and Mathew's dismay as the Brits voice announced their arrival. Alfred looked out the window to see what fate awaited him, he was under the foolish impression his situation couldn't possibly get any worse. The bulky tall building wasn't immediately recognizable until one inspected the bold red label in the front the clearly read "pucks n' bucks" then in a finer font below that "hockey rink"

Alfred just stared almost in shock at how bad his luck was, how was he going to play hockey with a broken arm?