A Demon and His Brit. ((Demon!America x Human!England.))

Sleep.

Arthur was oblivious; numb. He guessed the vodka was kicking in. He could feel a slight raspy scratch clawing its way down his throat and into his lungs. Smoking is weird, he thought. Why would people voluntarily shorten their life, one puff at a time, but maybe that's the reason; people smoke in hopes that their lives will be shortened, but without them taking their own lives. Sort of like an acceptable suicide. It is poetically sad in its own way. These little cancer sticks can kill so many, but it is not the tobaccos or nicotine's fault, but the users. They chose to let in the smoke. They chose to die.

The Brit curled up, possibly because of the cold, possibly because of his depressing thoughts. He brought his hand up to his mouth and began to chew on his nails, a bad habit of his he thought was gone.

A loud splash came from behind him, like something of great mass had fallen from a height. he immediately turned around to investigate, but the water was still. His sugars and hemoglobin in his blood was still beating harshly from the quick burst of adrenaline. His eyes were wide and glazed, focusing on a specific part of the water that didn't seem to move.

"Fuck, Arthur. What happened to you?" A low, concerned voice echoed from the other side of the Brit. Arthur immediately turned his head back, pressing against the fence as much as he could, as a natural reaction to the fright. There was a blurry figure standing in front of him with strikingly blue eyes staring down which seemed to have pinned Arthur to where he was. His head was spinning, he was too terrified and too drunk to do anything.

"Come on, the last thing I need is to take care of your drunk ass. This isn't the Arthur I know."

Arthur could tell that the shadow was moving, but he couldn't take his eyes off of the blue. It took up most of his energy to reply in a shaky, almost childish voice.

"Dear God...
Dear God
Tinkle
Tinkle-
Hoy."

For Arthur everything went black. He felt weightless, faithless, scared. It was like he was floating in a void, knowing that time was passing, and unable to move, not even open his eyes. It was like he was truly alone; with no voices, no breathing, no presence of anyone or anything. Although there was a lingering feeling of confusion and inevitability, Arthur was overall content. He loved this feeling honestly. He would stay like this forever if he could.

His state of euphoria was distracted by a small dry, tightening feeling around his arm. It seemed to grow, becoming more intense but not actually hurting, more annoying. He then started feeling the weightlessness, the void, the happiness all going. His eyes twitched from under closed lids before he opened them, staring up at the ceiling of is home. He immediately looked to his arm where he was feeling the strange sensation. It was covered in dried blood. At least that explains why it felt weird, but it couldn't have been his blood, could it?

The Brit sat up in his bed, his head spinning. He felt a heavy weight on his bed beside him, he was almost too afraid to look. He took a small breath before turning his head to look, hoping for the best but preparing for the worst. It took a minute for his brain to process the sleeping lump of his 'American' friend beside him. Do demons even need sleep? He decided not to dwell on it too much, though the demon could have slept on the couch if he needed to, but Arthur was happy to see him at least. The Brit glanced to the clock beside his bed, and of course the batteries had run out. That's what he gets for neglecting his apartment, and even himself. The curtains were closed, but he could still see some remains of daylight, so the sun was either setting or rising, he could try and remember the orientation of his home, but it wasn't important.

Although he had just been pass out for god knows how long, or in this case how long a demon knows, he was still extremely tired. He lied back into his bed, getting comfortable, even if Alfred took up most of the bed with his awkward sleeping position. He guessed he could say he was happy.

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[AN]

Sometimes humans say stupid things