A Million Voices [UsUk]

Worry

Alfred soon reached his small apartment, and approaching the door he looked for the keys in his back pocket. Soon finding the keys, in his still drunken state he tried to hit the lock correctly with them. And that was quite the difficult process to do.

After finally unlocking, he sighed in relief and stepped inside the apartment, closing the door behind himself.

"Alright, time to check on Arthur..." He said in a half - whisper to himself, not wanting to wake up the Brit by any chance. Alfred now felt a tiny bit more sober, though he definitely still wasn't himself.

Stepping silently into his (well, now Arthur's) room, he found himself worried since Arthur was not there. "Arthur...?" He stuttered under his breath and stepped out of the room with a sigh, looking for him next in the living room.

"Arthur? 'Ya there?" Alfred's thick American accent was visible as he approached the slightly bigger living room just to find out that the one who he was looking for, wasn't there.

Now that got him much more worried than usual.

"Arthur!" He shouted through the room and gave a quick glance to the kitchen just to be sure, but since the kitchen was visible from the living room, that was of no use.
Running to the last room he hadn't checked - the bathroom, he felt a knot tie in his stomach of the possible outcomes of Arthur being in the bathroom all this time while Alfred was gone.

Very cautiously, Alfred opened the door and found Arthur on the floor, unconscious, wet of the sweat and tears which were over his entire face and hair - his beloved one looked in an even worse condition than he was in a week ago, when the hospital incident happened.

"Oh my goodness, Arthur..." Alfred whispered and knelt down next to the poor collapsed Brit, taking a rag and pouring some cold water from the washbasin on it, placing it on Arthur's face as he took his hand gently to make him feel any better.

Then a thought struck him unbelievably quickly and he checked Arthur's pulse in a matter of seconds after the mournful thought hit him.

Thank the gods, he's alive.

Now came the difficult part, what does he do with an unconscious Brit, what does he do in his still kind of tipsy state? He picked Arthur up slowly and carefully, letting out a small troubled sigh - but also a look of concern. Arthur was really light to carry, and that was definitely not a good thing. He could definitely use to eat more... And Alfred didn't know when he was going to  be able to let Arthur live on his own again, and do his work, because right now it didn't seem like he was capable of doing anything by himself yet.

"Alright, let's get you to bed." He whispered to himself as he carried Arthur to his room, trying his best not to stumble or fall and bring Arthur to the floor with him as well.

After setting Arthur on the bed, he checked if he had any new bruises or even worse, any new scars like they had found them at the hospital last week.
He thoroughly lifted Arthur's shirt and investigated for anything that could cause danger to his health... But thankfully he found nothing like that.  Arthur didn't do anything to himself, or earned scars by falling.

Since his lover was wearing a short sleeved shirt, he had no reason to check his arms... Not that he had ever done anything there, but Alfred wanted to be sure anyway.

So it was one of his... "casual" breakdowns.

He wondered what caused him to have a breakdown now, when Alfred tried his hardest to keep him in a good state. Maybe Arthur couldn't be healed?

No! Alfred shook his head and tried to chase away that distressing contemplation of his.
He sighed, covering Arthur with a blanket and sitting on the edge of the bed, not able to do anything than just wait for two things - his insobriety and headache to end, and Arthur to regain his conscience.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

A few hours have passed since the situation Alfred had caught Arthur in when he got home.

Arthur had made a few signs that he was awake - a couple of mutters, mumbles and body movements, stirring to sleep on the side and clutching to his blanket. And that made Alfred smile for more than one reason.

He's adorable when he's sleeping, Alfred caught himself thinking.

"Hmph..." A weak mumble - like sound could be heard from the Brit who was, well, asleep, but now gradually waking up.
And Alfred had to hold in a small chuckle at how Arthur's face looked so adorable when he was dreaming.

"I hope you'll be alright now, Artie." Alfred gave a quiet hum as he whispered out the words, realizing that he had began holding Arthur's hand.

Arthur's eyes slowly opened, with a couple of quick blinks, before he covered his face with one hand. "W-where am I?" He murmured in a half - scared and half - tired voice.
"Shh, you're in your room. It's all okay." Alfred smiled and clasped Arthur's hand a little bit tighter, but still very gently, in reassurance.

As a response, Arthur let out a small whimper and buried his face in his pillow. "Why?"

Now, that response confused the hell out of the American. "W-what do you mean, why?"
He stood up from the bed and knelt next to it, tucking a few blonde curls behind the Brit's ear, and making him turn his face towards him, so two dull, sorrowful green eyes met his distressed and sleepy blue eyes.

"A-alfred..."
"Arthur, dear, are you alright...? What happened?" Alfred worriedly asked.
"I... Why are you here?"

Alfred's eyes widened at the response, before he tried to keep his composure and just made a slight chuckle at the strange question.

"I live here, silly." He halfheartedly smiled.

"W-why are you home...? Why did you help me?"

Could this get any more concerning?! Alfred panicked in his head, being careful not to blurt anything out.

"Arthur, that's what lovers do. They help each other in their hardest times. I love you, of course I would help you. A-and I'm home every day because of you... You're my reason to live."

Arthur looked perplexed. "Me...?" He blurted out.
"Yes, you. No one else." The American responded.

"I love you, Alfred.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

A/N

:,) I know.

If you're wondering what will happen to Arthur, and will he get better, ever, well, you will, have to keep reading to find that one out. ;) There are so many directions this story can take, but I'm pretty sure I have a nice plan for it.

And yes, Arthur used to self - harm. That is the message behind that one sentence in the hospital chapter when the doctors found out about some "concerning old scars". Yep.
Sorry, for making it like that. This story is just a good way to express my feelings  >.<

Thanks for reading!

P.S. Yeah, I decided on making an after - chapter author's note for every future chapter.