When Lily's Cry: Puppet Strings

Chapter VIII. I'll Always Be Here

Slender fingers delicately prodded at a winter themed flower arrangement. It was one Alfred had been working on for some time now. He constantly found ways to improve it, gaining his inspiration from everyday life.

"Hey Bell, can I ask you something?"

"Sure. What's up?", Ludwig inquired wearily. He recognized that look in Alfred's eye. The look he made when he was either contemplating the value of life, or past and present family matters. Whenever he thought of either of those things, the life would seemingly drain from his eyes, and he would remain an empty shell until brought out of his mind-palace.

"Why does my family hate me?"

Ludwig's wall of composure crumbled to the ground, he didn't know how to answer.

Sky blue eyes fell, landing on damaged black converse with stars littering the sides. Alfred frowned, giving a dispirited wave before heading in the direction of the staff room.

Ludwig's steps faltered, unsure of whether or not to follow his companion. He pushed his dubiety to the back of his mind, choosing to focus on his troubled friend, rather than his irresolution.

Before the older even realized it, he had grabbed hold of Alfred's hand and pulled the blond into the break room.

"Sit."

Alfred seemed surprised, but did as he was told and sat in a grayish swivel chair. He looked like a puppy, big blue eyes chipping away at Ludwig's defenses.

The German pulled another chair from across the room, sitting in front of the younger.

"I..... I've never met your family, so I'm probably not the best person to ask... it may sound rude of me to make assumptions, but.... I don't think they hate you. I mean- I don't think they're actually family if they do. Uhm- why- why do you think they hate you? You don't have to answer, I just- well I'm probably overstepping my boundaries. Sorry."

Alfred's tensed posture turned into that of contentment, shoulder muscles loosening as he gave a relieved huff.

"Bell....your too nice to me... I don't- I don't deserve it, really."

"Don't say that," Ludwig scooted forward, "you do deserve it. You- You deserve it more than anyone else. Alfred, you think too little of yourself... I- I don't know what's going on, and you don't have to tell me.... but please- please value yourself more. Even if your family can't be there for you, just know that I'll always be here. It's- It's probably not enough, but I'll stay by your side, until you don't need me anymore..... I'll always be there."

Alfred's lips trembled, unable to form a response for the fear he would break down into tears. The latter understood that Alfred was very unstable, and took it upon himself to coax the American, convince him it was okay to cry.

Ludwig's callused fingers traced Alfred's jaw line, before cupping his face and giving a reassuring smile. Tears began to cascade down his florid cheeks, as all of the younger's equanimity was thrown out the window. Paled digits grabbed at fistfuls of Ludwig's shirt, as Alfred buried his reddened face in the crook of his upperclassman's neck.

Ludwig couldn't think of any profound advice to give his friend, so he simply hummed a tune his mother had sang for him in grade school, and stroked the small of Alfred's back. This seemed to comfort the American enough, as he began to bawl that much harder.

They stayed like this for what seemed like hours, though it was only a few minutes. Ludwig practically jumped out of his skin at the loud ding of the front door opening. And if being interrupted by a high pitched bell wasn't enough, whoever had entered the flower shop came barging through the entrance of the staff room. Ludwig had forgotten to lock it, but could you blame him? There were more important matters to worry about, like Alfred's mental health.

"Guess who came to see you, broha!! It's the awesome me!", a red eyed man exclaimed.

Ludwig grimaced, glancing in Alfred's direction to find that he had already wiped away his tears, and was now smiling happily at the older man.

"Gilbert, what have I told you about using your inside voice?"

Gilbert stuck out his tongue, "Who shoved a stick up your ass, mom~?"

Alfred snorted, giving a sympathetic pat to Ludwig's shoulder.

Gilbert continued to ramble on about his awesomeness being uncontainable, while giving a -inconspicuously as possible- glance to Alfred, taking note of the redness around his eyes.

Why was he crying? The Germanic man wanted to ask, but, though he was close to the American, it wasn't his place. There were others that were far closer to him than Gilbert. He hated it, but it was a fact. Being near the Blond was enough though. Gilbert had tried to convince himself of this, but he was never quite able to get it through his thick skull. He choked his worries down, gulped, and continued on.

"So Alfredo sauce, how's life been treatin' ya?"

Alfred shrugged, "Meh, its life I guess."

Gilbert nodded, actual serious for a moment. But that moment was short lived, as his challenging smirk returned, and his eyes flared with an unknown passion.

"Well it's about to get a hell of a lot better!"

"How so?"

Alfred seemed apprehensive, but he asked none the less.

"C'mon broha! We're gonna do your favorite thing!" Gilbert spoke in a sort of 'duh' tone, as if it was obvious what they were going to do.

"I'm taking you to the hospital to volunteer! The kids have been bugging me all week about you, and visiting them always seems to cheer you up!"

Alfred couldn't hide his excitement even if he wanted to. He loved those little ankle biters, and taking care of them would serve as a wonderful distraction.

"Sounds like fun!"