I'm Not Okay [UsUk]

Lost, Gone, Broken

A little bit later in the day, Arthur and his parents, along with Matthew, decided it would be quite a good idea to stop by the American brothers' house and get all things that were important for them to keep - for example, some clothes, school books and items they had to leave in a hurry in the heat of last night's disaster.

Since both Alice and John knew it would be rational to have one adult at home to look after the boys and Alfred, Arthur's mother settled to stay with them, while the father would go with Matthew and Arthur.

"Okay, so, we'll be back very soon. Stay safe, alright?" The man said with a soft smile, bringing along two suitcases in which they would pack the essentials.

Alfred replied with a nod, waving towards the three people who were leaving the place.

Great. Now he was stuck with Arthur's three borderline hyperactive brothers and overly kind mother who couldn't wait but to help him, ask him about his feelings and all the things he certainly didn't want to talk about.

With frustration, he sighed and walked over to the guest room, but was stopped by the youngest Kirkland brother - a cute looking blonde kid who couldn't have been older than seven. "Hey, Alfred, do you want to keep us company while Arthur's gone?"

In all honesty, the American had no intentions of playing games with a seven year old while his mind was so clouded with everything at once, sleepless and in a terrible mood, but he just couldn't deny him.

"Fine, but just a bit", he sighed, pulling back his left arm a little bit too quickly once Liam took him by it and tried to lead him over to their enormous bedroom. There was a sharp sting of pain rushing through his body on a split second, but he covered the sound escaping him with a cough. The small boy frowned slightly, but nodded in understanding and motioned for Alfred to follow him.

It would be selfish if I denied him.

I just hope they don't ask too many questions. I'm sure they won't, though.

Oh, he was very wrong.
The questions that the brothers had in store for him seemed endless, and every single one of them was painful in its own way - it was so difficult to hide the agony.

"What exactly happened last night?"

"How long are you and your brother staying here?"

"Where is your mother?"

"How are you feeling?"

"Are you depressed?"

"Why did you move to England?"

Minutes and minutes of answering the brothers' questions, but it seemed infinite, each word making that overwhelming tension boil inside, so close to breaking down. Almost out of breath, fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie and feeling his legs lightly tremble, Alfred knew that he wouldn't last long talking about all these things that he wanted to forever forget. It was too fresh, and his mind was far too darkened - he was not sane. He was in a bad state of mind.

"Stop!" He suddenly yelled out, getting up in a quick motion, obviously hyperventilating. "I-I can't--" The words he tried to say were breathless, and all his body as able to do at that moment was run. Run out and slam the door behind himself, escape into nothingness...

"What's wrong? Alfred!" The oldest of the three, Connor, questioned, but was too late - the American already stormed out of the room.

What they didn't know was that Alfred actually hurried towards the bathroom, his escape plan for relief that he couldn't stop going back to every single time he felt down or miserable. Even though he hated himself even more for doing it, something inside made him continue.