Beautiful Mess [UsUk / AmeDen]

Chapter XXXVI

"Alfred, who is this?"

Arthur stared at the two people holding hands in front of him with a furious look on his face, his arms crossed and his lips pursed together in shock and awe of what was happening. He didn't exactly know what, but it was enough to look in Alfred's eyes to understand that they were full of love, and it wasn't towards him. And this girl holding his boyfriend's hand, whoever she was, she just had to have the same look in her blue eyes, a colour lighter than Alfred's.

As much as he was rethinking himself whether he still had feelings for Alfred since he had changed so drastically and had gone into therapy for a month, it was more than a little heartbreaking to see him turn to someone else so quickly. The Brit would never admit it was him who fucked it up this time and froze the frequency on which they connected. He made it colder with his icy glares and sarcastic remarks, and the fact that he didn't give Alfred all the support he needed through everything he had to experience. Which was major, difficult, and he couldn't bear it on his own. He didn't realize how much it affected the young American whenever he told him that he was overdramatic, or looking for attention, and whenever he pushed him to go to class and work while he was barely able to stop crying and get out of bed. It hurt, and it made Alfred drift apart from Arthur, almost creating this invisible border that stopped him from loving the Englishman with all the love he held in his body and mind - and there was a lot, with his idealistic soul of a hopeless romantic.

Arthur's mind didn't have the capacity to place himself in the category of the one to blame, and he believed it was, in fact, Alfred. It was Alfred who made it difficult with his psychotic delusions, disorganized behavior, mood swings, emotional instability, hallucinations, irrational fears, constant paranoia... It was definitely Alfred. To Arthur, that made sense. Even though at the start, he was supportive, it was like an empathy switch in his brain turned off once the problems started getting more and more difficult to handle, like Alfred almost taking his life, or nearly changing his entire personality and isolating himself for the most part.

So as he looked at the two holding hands, he only thought how it was Alfred Jones to blame for loving another person. Seeing the scared look on his face didn't help him empathize either, only made his heart clench in his chest, almost from annoyance at the fear.

"This is my... This is my friend Isabella." Alfred said in a frightened tone of voice, holding the girl's hand even tighter than before out of sheer reflex. She didn't mind, rather intertwined their fingers together and bit her lip as she stared back at Arthur, who she had heard a lot about in group therapy from Alfred who constantly talked about how much he missed him. Well, things had changed, apparently.

"So you're just holding hands with a girl and looking all loving while I'm away? I wouldn't be surprised if you kissed, either!" Arthur was more than bad at keeping his temper in, especially when he felt as if his inner feeling was insulted. Just like now.

"Maybe I wouldn't be like this if you payed attention to my feelings more than your own!" Alfred shouted back, something in his stomach turning, the uncomfortable, tightening feeling spreading all throughout his body making his heart race, breath almost hitch in his throat and his vision blurring. He didn't want this to happen. He didn't wish to anger Arthur again, that wasn't his intention. "I have a right to love whoever I want as much as you do!"

Isabella felt uneasy, glancing from Alfred to Arthur and not knowing exactly what to do in a situation like this. She didn't know who to trust, but she knew one thing - if the shouts escalate into something more, she'd be on the American's side.

"You're a fucking idiot, do you know that, Alfred?" The Brit's raging voice echoed through the hallways, and Alfred was close to freezing in place at the words.