Reach out for the Sun [UsUk]

Nine: Confess All Your Fears

Alfred and Matthew were driving back home with a tingle of accomplishment that they didn't want to admit out loud. They made two new friends, something that hadn't happened in such a long time. Gilbert and Elizabeta even decided to give them their phone numbers, and as the brunette girl said: "I feel like you guys are something special, we will definitely get along well!" 

And by that, Matthew already organized a dinner party for Saturday night. Or, more specifically, a triple date with Arthur and Adrienne immediately receiving an invitation as well. Alfred was a tiny bit concerned that the Englishman would refuse, though, since he was quite socially anxious and got along better with his own mind and silence than the company of multiple people.

He would just have to make him come, that was the only way. It wasn't healthy to avoid socializing to that extent, and in all honesty, Alfred was worried about Arthur's strong will to stay in that black abyss called loneliness in which he had already spent so many years sulking.

So with minutes passing by, both Americans forgot the reason why they visited the hospital in the first place. Their minds focused on something else entirely, at least for a moment, and all the pain of yesterday was gone. At least for Matthew. 
Unfortunately, Alfred always had that nagging voice in the back of his mind telling him everything that was wrong, and those darkened thoughts kept surrounding the realistic, rational ones, but he always pretended like they didn't exist, never showing them to other people. And his older brother knew that. For quite a long time he had known that Alfred's mental state certainly wasn't the best, approximately since he was sixteen, yet he tried to ignore that as much as he could, he was willing to listen to the other's problems only when he was completely okay with sharing them. 

After all, with everything that had happened back when they lived in Pennsylvania, Matthew would be surprised if the two of them were alright. Especially Alfred, who was far more sensitive and felt everything so deeply that it was silently destroying him.

But now they were lazying around on the couch, Alfred on his phone, stupidly smiling - chatting with Arthur, but he'd never admit that aloud - and Matthew watching television, as if they didn't have a single worry in their lives. 

'You know, today I was writing about you again.' Arthur was always texting him the sweetest messages that would make him madly blush each and every time. And Alfred was dying to read his writings, the only problem was - he was never allowed to. But he swore to himself, the next time he visited Arthur's place, he'd distract him and read the writings. 
He knew how it felt, being an artist in any form. Feeling incredibly insecure about his music, always needing strength and extra encouragement to open up and finally show his talent to someone else rather than only himself. Arthur must had been like that, too. An extraordinary writer who hides the words deep within the drawers of his desk or under the bed. Perhaps if Alfred complimented his work, he would feel more confident in publishing it.

'Why won't you show me your writing? I bet it's amazing, so shut up before you tell me it sucks.' He typed the answer, clicking the button to send the message and glancing at the TV as he waited for a reply.

'Because it's terrible, and you'd laugh if you saw it. See, I didn't say it sucks. It just... Ain't good, or whatever you Americans say.' The response appeared on the lit up screen of the phone, and Alfred chuckled out loud, gaining even the attention of his brother.

"Who are 'ya talkin' to?" Matthew smirked after seeing the blush on the younger brother's cheeks. "Oh, must be Arthur."

'I told you to stop saying it's bad! Also ugh, be right back, gotta kill my brother real quick.'  

"Shut up, it's none of your business. Watch your cooking show or whatever." Alfred glared at him for a longer moment, struggling to keep a straight face.