Arrested in Love: UsUk Prisoner AU

27: Misfit Blood

With the sun slowly meeting the crest of the horizon, Arthur was dressed and ready to work. Alfred still lie asleep in their bed, chest rising and falling. Arthur smiled a little and kissed his lover's cheek, running a hand through his hair before walking off to head to work.

The sky, darkened before sunrise, guided Arthur to the dark and almost eerie prison. He hated morning shifts, early morning shifts. The echo of noises rung out in the prison. He made his way up to the watch, his cement crows nest. He scanned around and flashed through a plethora of cameras with a small sigh. Nothing wrong. Absolutely nothing wrong. Which was good! He didn't want to deal with any bullshit. So there we go.

Arthur sat back with a quiet hum to some tune on some janky radio on some desk, tapping his foot to the beat. Lovino looked over at Arthur and cracked the slightest of smiles. Arthur chuckled, continuing to scan through the cameras while now singing the song on the rusting radio.

It was a good, boring day. A good, boring morning. And that was amazing. 

So Arthur zoned out. He told Lovino to watch over things as he soon fell asleep, head lulled back against his office chair and feet propped on the steel desk, policeman's cap resting over his eyes.

Not long after Arthur fell asleep, the loud whooping over a siren came over him, and he noticed a couple guards running down the hall. His eyes widened, wondering what had happened. Lovino was gone too, causing even more confusion to settle over him.

Arthur got up, grabbing a pistol and set it in his holster, following the guards to wherever they were heading, another person heading to his watch.

Arthur's eyes widened as he saw a pool of blood trailing out of a cell. It wasn't his Alfred so he really didn't care.

"Who is it?" He asked, standing up straight. "Why is there so much blood?"

"Some prisoner slit his wrists. Found the blade in a- a boiled egg. He's dead." A guard said as the gurney was brought out with the body.

Francis fucking Bonnefoy. You fucking bastard.

"Oh." Arthur whispered, clearing his throat. "A shame. Poor bastard. He was fresh too." Arthur added, something seemingly lodged in his throat. He closed his eyes and stepped away, running to find his boss. He couldn't be there.

"Sir," He whispered shakily, his boss' eyes widened, slowly guiding him to a chair to sit in. "Arthur, are you alright?" He asked, checking Arthur's vitals.

"Bonnefoy- dead? Dead! Why- why? He was supposed to get what he damn deserved!" He hissed, hugging himself. "Damn bastard! Fool, stupid tool. Now my Alfred- he won't get any closure!"

His boss just slowly nodded, sighing heavily. "Maybe the closure Alfred needed, was death. Everything happens for s reason." He muttered, Arthur slowly bringing himself down to a calm once again.

"I suppose... Sir I have to tell Alfred. I have to! Oh god, will he be heartbroken? Alfred...my healing lover, I feel terrible. Absolutely terrible." Arthur rambled, looking down at the ground. "May I please go home?"

The boss nodded, tapping Arthur on the shoulder. "Go. It's fine. Just go."

Arthur nodded, and soon he was rushing himself to his car, shaking placing a cigarette between his teeth and lighting it.

He squeezed his eyes closed, starting the car. His white gloves gripped the small item, Arthur staring at his palm before putting out the cigarette in his hand, wincing a little from the burn.

Arthur threw the cigarette butt outside the car and stared at himself in the rear view mirror, tears staining his cheeks. He glanced at his burn as he removed his gloves, pulling out of the parking complex.
Fucking Francis.