The two of them burst through the door of their house, the lights were all off and dark, oddly. If Francis had run away, surely Arthur was going to be home, right? Their eyes traveled to the furniture. Oh. The furniture. The furniture were soulless statues, frozen in time as the two glimpsed around, trying to find some sort of sign that Arthur was around. Finally, after what seemed like years, the taller blond opened his mouth.

"You think he is here, Kiku?" Alfred whispered as Kiku glanced around the empty house. "I only pray I don't find him in a bar, I don't know what I would do to him..."

Kiku's eyes flashed to something that caught his attention, his brown eyes zigzagging around the room. "I hear something, Mister Alfred.." Kiku whispered back as Alfred only chuckled, "yanno, you don't have to call me 'Mister Alfred'. We've been a thing since, yanno! However, I find it adorable when you say that."

Kiku didn't respond, his face only turning to a dark red as Alfred's attention snapped when quiet noises came from the spare bedroom.

"... Arthur?? You here???" Alfred shouted as the noises only grew louder in a response. The two quietly trotted across the comforting carpet floor, kicking their shoes off in the progress. Their hands interlacing with one another as Alfred felt for any furniture that threatened to jump out at them. They stood infront of the shadowy door, softly nodding at one another to continue the feat.

"Mister Kirkland, it's okay," Kiku responded as they parted open the door, realizing the noises was the Brit sobbing. They entered the depressing bedroom and heard the muffling of sobs as the male didn't want to be found; however, it was too late as Alfred glanced towards the closet door and swung it open.

"Arthur, come out of the closet."

"I can't," Arthur shrilled as he didn't turn around to face the two. "No matter what, I can't." His shoulders hunched up as he softly pressed his forehead towards the wall. Alfred scratched the back of his head as he didn't say anything as Kiku softly wrapped his hand with Alfred. That gave Alfred the strength he needed as he opened his mouth, his cheerful tone drowning for a serious one. "They have Francis."

The Brit seemed to tense at his name as he muttered, "I failed him." He then spun around, his whites of his eyes were a light pink as he sniffed. "It's all my fucking fault. I should've been more careful with my job and... God. I failed him, you, the people who need me in England, bloody everyone. "

"Yanno, I don't like you stealing and with the black market trying to kill you but being a failure isn't one of them. When did the brave Kirkland ever give up? You used to tell me stories about how your family would bond together and fight the corrupt until..." Alfred paused when he noticed Arthur had wiped his tears on a purple cloth.

"Where'd you get that?" Alfred asked as Kiku only slugged him softly, mumbling something being "unimportant". However, his brother responded to his question.

"My brother's. Feels long ago when he used to throw and torment my mind with stones," he chuckled softly at the small thought; his mouth shaped into a crescent after the exchange. His green eyes dulled for many moments until Alfred started up again, his anger boiling more than it should.

"You can't sit in here when Francis is off somewhere! It was just an argument. I hate when you think you gotta be cold towards the world, it worries me sick!" Alfred admitted, his urging tone flipped when he his older brother let out a scoff, melancholy had hopelessness written so clearly on his pale features as a book.

"He probably hates me. This wouldn't of happened if I fucking didn't push him away and was honest about what I am," he muttered to himself, grabbing his blond bangs and tugging on them. This prompted Alfred to step forward, smacking his older brother's hand away from tugging harder and his hands went instinctively to his hips.

"This is reminding me of old times, god! I don't think this is a good time to mope around when we gotta do something! What will happen to him if we don't? Won't you be worried sick??"

Arthur thought for many moments, his mind racing until Kiku began to cough and excused himself from the room. "All those hateful things I said when I was younger, I take them back! I'm sorry for not seeing your side on the argument, okay?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Arthur grumbled, his voice cracking as he climbed to his feet.

"I know you say you've forgiven me but I can't forgive myself. Not after calling you what I did and becoming a hypocrite over it," Alfred cracked as his brother slammed his hands within his pockets, not saying anything as Kiku re-entered the room with two glasses of water. "Here," he smiled softly, handing one to Alfred and then being rejected from Arthur.

"Not thirsty," he lied, his throat was bugging him; however, he couldn't handle taking something away from someone else right now. Alfred took a swig from his glass, he softly held the glass like a delicate vase filled with expensive roses.

Roses.

Arthur closed his eyes, imagining Francis's house filled with a whole garden, the determination and joy that Francis displayed throbbed in his heart while he couldn't help but imagine feeling the male's curvy body against his.

His eyes snapped open when Alfred began talking again. "You're going to go help him, right?"

Certainly, he had to, right? His brain jumbled together as he deflected the question.

"I'm going out to collect my thoughts," Arthur mumbled. Alfred went to object until Kiku gave a small nod and whispered, "of course. Take your time. I know it's hard to come in turn with who you are."

His feet felt glued to where he was in the closet, Alfred's grip on the glass faltered all over the floor as the whole gushed out.

"Ahh! Sorry Kiku!"

"Don't worry, I got it," Kiku hummed, running out of the room like the wind. Arthur opened his mouth and whispered, "I forgive you, Alfred."

"Wha-?" Alfred turned his gaze towards Arthur who only glanced away.

"I forgive you for what you said in the past. I forgive you."

Kiku rushed back into the room, soaking up the water that lingered on the carpet's surface. Arthur's feet loosened their hold on the squishy carpet and coldly shouldered his younger brother. Alfred scoffed in response, which caused Arthur to peer over his shoulder, asking, "how did the proposal go? Hopefully that good thing turned out." 

"Dude!!" Alfred hissed as Arthur quietly shut his bedroom door and entered into the living room. His mind was completely a mess, felt like exploding into emotions he didn't quite recognize and remember from when he was younger. When he exited the calm house into the storming wilderness, it roared furiously as he opened the door. He probably just ruined his younger brother's mood; however, it seemed that whatever he did, he pissed the younger off anyway.

He slammed the door shut by accident as he walked in the opposite direction Francis had gone and off towards his favorite bar, Gilbert's. The rain bounced when it hit any surface, playfully giggling at the male's despair. His mind wandered onto different topics until a shining name overtook it; Gilbert's.

He stood outside in the pouring rain, the rain fell like buckets around him as the soft feeling of him drinking in comfort surrounded him. Arthur shoved open the door as the bartender placed down the rag he had been cleaning a cup with and asked, "Kölsch? You look like you need some."

"I'm good," Arthur sat down on the dark red barstool and pressed his head against the hard wood. The German only blinked at the action and asked, "hard day?"

"God. You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Arthur muttered at the taller and more muscular male. His blue eyes were clear as sky while the bartender's blond hair was much lighter than his.

"Try. I've heard a lot of things," although he had a thick German accent, his overpronunciation of English words made it very quick to understand him (except his w's).

Arthur only scoffed at the male's openness; however, he squinted his eyes trying to figure out a comprehensive way to word how he was feeling. After what was several minutes, the German spoke, "take your time," while pouring a glass of whiskey. "This is on the house," and sliding it his way.

Arthur took a swig of the whiskey and wiped his mouth upon his sleeve, his emerald eyes dulling at the burning sensation in his throat. "Ever say something that you didn't mean and something bad happens?"

The German didn't speak for awhile and when he went to open his mouth, the Brit didn't allow him to talk. "I said something to someone I really..." He paused softly, his emerald eyes narrowing in pain. "Someone I..."

"Liked?" The German offered; however, the Englishman waved the word away.

"Something stronger," Arthur answered as he crossed his arms while the bartender sat in thought. "Anyway, I wasn't open and honest with him and he ended up getting hurt. What do I do?"

The bartender nodded his head slowly as he responded. "I remember a story like that. There were two brothers who were the best of friends. The two had a dream and the younger one began to drift away from the older one. The younger said some pretty mean things to the older one." The German took a swig of Kölsh.

That sounded familiar. Arthur thought to himself as the German began to speak once he set down the fragile glass.

"The older one had been suffering from back pain and depression. He built his bar since he wanted his little brother to be proud. However, the words haunted the older until finally he decided he'd rather end it than see his little brother disappointed in him. I said some harmful and mean things during an argument that I didn't mean at all, it was the stress me talking and now, he's dead because of me."

Arthur didn't speak at all as the German knitted his hands together and rested his chin on them. His clear eyes began to cloud more and more as time passed between them. Arthur's throat felt like a frog had lodged itself and made itself a home within his throat. After a couple tears had passed down the bartender's face, Arthur finally croaked, "I'm so sorry..."

The other didn't speak until he took the Kölsh off the table. "I've learnt to forgive myself; however, sometimes I feel like Gilbert is watching over ol' Ludwig," he chuckled softly at the end, melancholy never ceasing to erase itself. "However, I have a question to ask you. Would you rather live with the guilt of not doing anything on your mind or be perfectly okay if they were to vanish from this world?"

Arthur knew the answer; however, hesitated to say it outloud. How was he supposed to express something that was deemed unnatural by everyone else? Was it okay to finally open a part of him that he suppressed for so long? The German only placed a cold hand on his shoulder while whispering, "think about it."

"I don't have to think about it. I already know what I'd do. However, I don't know where they taken him," Arthur whispered in return, which only prompted the German to leave towards the backroom.

"I might have someone that can help," he whispered. "My roommate's girlfriend is a part of a 'club'."

Arthur's words only fell out quickly without thinking. "Where can I meet her so I can save him?"

A smile crept itself onto Ludwig's face as he whispered in return, "come home with me and you can meet her."