Beautiful Mess [UsUk / AmeDen]

Chapter IX

Sleepless and exhausted, Alfred spent the night in Arthur's embrace just like the day before, thinking about everything and anything, especially his brother who he couldn't simply get out of his mind. He didn't even close his eyes on a second, but didn't make much movement either which was unlike his usual self who shifted around on the bed all the time, unable to find a proper position to rest in. Instead, he tried to focus on one thing so the images surrounding him wouldn't affect him as strongly. Even the smallest sounds scared him, and he wasn't able to recognize whether it was real or all in his head. He stayed alert the entire time, glancing to the window here and there for no particular reason except his delusional thinking. A firm belief formed in his mind - he was being followed by shadows, everybody was against him, and even Arthur could have ended up on his list of potential dangers if it wasn't for the fact he tried to calm him down during panic attacks.

Morning was arriving at a slower pace than ever before. It felt like the longest night of his life, counting each second in his head and hoping he was close to dawn just to find out he didn't leave half the night behind him yet.

He felt as if he was trapped in a cold, darkened prison cell, full of blood which seemed like his own, and at some point during the night, he could swear that he was actually pulled down into a black hole created underneath him, and the intensity of the feeling made him almost cry out in pain, though he bit his lip roughly to stop any sounds from escaping him. He was absolutely freezing, despite it being a warm spring night. Shivering, constantly trembling, yet he couldn't simply throw on a blanket to make it stop. It was all over his body, the unstoppable tingling sensation he despised so much. The air wasn't clear either, and his senses of smell were filled with a terrible scent that almost choked him with its ferociousness.

Arthur soundly slept next to him, never bothered, and Alfred wished he could be like that again. Peaceful. He wished he could turn back time to the day he fought with Matthew and not say those words, instead tell him how he really felt. He didn't only need Matthew, he couldn't live without him. And perhaps the whispers would have never turned to screams if he acted differently.

Well, it was done now, wasn't it? Time travel still wasn't possible, he didn't have the power to alter the past, present and future the way he wanted it to be.

He was oh, so stuck, once again, pulled back and forth between darkness and light, just like he used to be as a child. The only difference was that now, the darkness grew stronger and overpowered the person he truly was inside. When he was younger, he would fight it the best he knew, never showed it to other people, and no one knew what really went on behind his face and above his throat, all the pain and misery of losing his parents and ending up alone, hurt emotionally and physically and every other possible way. Matthew had never felt that bad, since he set a goal in life to help his younger brother through everything and not get carried away by the hurtful negativity that life had forced them to carry.

But how could Alfred fight something in his mind if, to him, it merged with reality and surrounded him entirely? How was he going to push away a thought that wasn't merely a thought anymore? He didn't own that kind of strength. He couldn't change his perception of the world.

He was scared that he'd soon have to drop out of college because studying and doing project would become an impossible task with all the distractions, which would mean he'd be stripped away his dreams and a future as a professional artist. And he'd be taken away from Arthur.

Finally, Arthur woke up from the peaceful sleep, tossing and turning around until he, at last, slowly sat up and whispered a good morning to the disturbed boy next to him, which snapped Alfred out of his thoughts.

That was all he needed. A distraction from his own distractions. Something he never in his life thought he'd need so badly.

"Have you slept at all?" The Brit asked in a soft tone, stretching and yawning before getting out of bed.