Reach out for the Sun [UsUk]

Fifteen: Reach out for the Sun

Arthur was running.

He wasted no more time, and didn't want to rely on the Universe any longer. Alfred could be ripped from his arms at any given moment, he just had to be there as quick as he could and didn't hesitate to give all of his strenght only for that single cause, the most important cause in his whole life - seeing Alfred.

He was completely out of breath once he reached the entrance of the giant building in which Alfred was supposedly fighting to stay alive. Hyperventilating as he got in, the Brit ran up to the first person in a white hospital uniform that he spotted working behind a counter. "Please, take me to Alfred Jones, I need to see him right away." He breathily spoke, making eye contact with the man on the other side. He was blonde, a lighter shade than Matthew's and more like his own, and his hair almost reached shoulder length. His eyes were striking blue, and he had a small stubble on his chin that couldn't go unnoticed. The unknown man examined Arthur for a moment, shaking his head and furrowing his eyebrows as if he had just found out something new.

"Are you Arthur Kirkland by any chance?" He finally spoke, with a thick French accent just like Adrienne's.

"Y-yes, how did you know?"

"I'm Adrienne's brother. Francis Bonnefoy."

"I do not care who you are, or how you know me, just take me to Alfred! Right now!" Arthur slammed his fist onto the wooden drop counter out of pure rage and impatience, and the Frenchman just stared at him wide eyed for a second before looking up the American's room number on his computer, muttering something under his breath that only he could hear.

"Very well, then." He replied to the Brit.

"I'm sorry for bursting out like that, I'm so sorry... I'm just--"

"I understand. I'd be lost, too, in such a horrible situation." 

Francis didn't hold grudges. He rarely got angry, and if he did, it was for very valid reasons, in arguments he most likely always won. Just like his sister, he was highly empathetic, understood what people were going through, especially because they both worked at a place in which people's lives depended on a single string that could easily break and leave families in distress for years. All the struggle on their faces, the tears they spilled when bad news needed to be said, the confused children and sorrowful parents, people who had so much to live their life for, but some of them just didn't get to live it whole.

After scribbling it down with a badly working pen, he handed Arthur a small paper with Alfred's room number on it, nodding at him with lips pursed together. 

"Room 209, fourth floor and then to the right. Neurology unit." 

"Thank you so, so much."

"Stay strong for him, Arthur. He needs that."

Gripping the piece of paper tightly, Arthur sighed and turned away from the Frenchman, taking that advice to the heart. 

He headed towards the elevator, clicking the button next to it and waiting for it to come down to the ground floor. Once the shiny, silver door finally opened, he tried his best not to flinch at the sight - a nurse quickly wheeling an unconscious patient in a portable bed, possibly to the emergency section judging by the look on her face which clearly stated that things were falling apart too fast for her to catch them before everything broke down to the ground.
The door closed and carried him up to the fourth floor, and during the ride he repeatedly whispered Francis' word to himself.

"I must stay strong for him."

And again.

It was difficult not to cry, and focusing on the rational part of his brain was extremely exhausting, but currently that was what he had to do, whether he wanted it or not.