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Arthur woke up gasping for breath, swimming in his bedsheets and a pool of his own sweat.
It took him a moment to ensure that he wasn't still trapped in his mind.
The hallucinations were always so real. They were vivid and pertained to all of Arthur's five senses. The flames that licked away at the layers of his skin, the sharp fingernails that raked across his body, drawing blood; the white-hot knives sinking their razor-sharp teeth into his arms, intent on lacerating him, and the short stretch of rough rope, handled by unseen hands, pressed against his windpipe, slowly causing him to turn blue with asphyxiation...
Arthur shuddered again, trying to suppress the memory, but the more he tried to forget, the more those thoughts stubbornly surfaced to his mind. He lifted a trembling hand towards his throat, and was shocked to feel the ragged imprint of the rope, where it had dug into his skin.
He squeezed his eyes shut, gulped, and forced his hand away from his throat. It was always the worst when his hallucinations stalked him into reality. Admittedly, some of them, like the Flying Mint Bunny, weren't too horrifying, but more often than not, most of the visions left Arthur reeling into the dangers of his worst nightmares.
Arthur willed, begged himself to move, to get out of bed to comfort himself with a cozy cup of Early Grey and a scone, but his body refused to obey, trapping himself in the aftermath of his terrors with nothing but his pillow to defend himself in the inky dark.
Just when Arthur thought he could resist no longer, that he would just succumb to the dark demons that nipped at his mind, the door opened with a sonorous BANG!, temporarily chasing the monsters away in shock.
"'Sup, Artie?" the intruder cockily greeted with a grin.
In walked Alfred, the person that Arthur least wanted to see, the person that Arthur swore would never view him in this feverish, helpless state.
But Arthur was too weak to resist, too weak to push him away as he lay next to him, too weak to slap away the hand that stroked his fair hair away from his sweat-soaked forehead. He lay there and whimpered. The final shreds of his resolve and pride soon caved in, and he found his broken self curling into Alfred's sturdy body for protection.
If this was another hallucination, Arthur didn't want it to end. But everything about Alfred was so real; the slightly greasy scent of American fast-food wafting from his clothes, the bright twinkle in his crisp blue eyes, and the mop of artfully messed-up blond hair with the little strand that relentlessly stuck up in a rigid crescent on top of his hand. With each passing second, he could feel the darkness ebbing away at his mind subsiding, eventually vanishing, as he immersed himself in the ostensibility of Alfred.
As Arthur drifted into a rare, dreamless sleep, he still couldn't decide whether this was actually happening or not. Alfred could've been something that the brighter half of his imagination cooked up out of desperation and despair. But Alfred was so tangible, the weight of his well-built body snugly pressing into Arthur, and his soothing, calloused hand was still petting Arthur's head reassuringly. So tangible. So existent. So real.
But then again, all of Arthur's hallucinations were.
It took him a moment to ensure that he wasn't still trapped in his mind.
The hallucinations were always so real. They were vivid and pertained to all of Arthur's five senses. The flames that licked away at the layers of his skin, the sharp fingernails that raked across his body, drawing blood; the white-hot knives sinking their razor-sharp teeth into his arms, intent on lacerating him, and the short stretch of rough rope, handled by unseen hands, pressed against his windpipe, slowly causing him to turn blue with asphyxiation...
Arthur shuddered again, trying to suppress the memory, but the more he tried to forget, the more those thoughts stubbornly surfaced to his mind. He lifted a trembling hand towards his throat, and was shocked to feel the ragged imprint of the rope, where it had dug into his skin.
He squeezed his eyes shut, gulped, and forced his hand away from his throat. It was always the worst when his hallucinations stalked him into reality. Admittedly, some of them, like the Flying Mint Bunny, weren't too horrifying, but more often than not, most of the visions left Arthur reeling into the dangers of his worst nightmares.
Arthur willed, begged himself to move, to get out of bed to comfort himself with a cozy cup of Early Grey and a scone, but his body refused to obey, trapping himself in the aftermath of his terrors with nothing but his pillow to defend himself in the inky dark.
Just when Arthur thought he could resist no longer, that he would just succumb to the dark demons that nipped at his mind, the door opened with a sonorous BANG!, temporarily chasing the monsters away in shock.
"'Sup, Artie?" the intruder cockily greeted with a grin.
In walked Alfred, the person that Arthur least wanted to see, the person that Arthur swore would never view him in this feverish, helpless state.
But Arthur was too weak to resist, too weak to push him away as he lay next to him, too weak to slap away the hand that stroked his fair hair away from his sweat-soaked forehead. He lay there and whimpered. The final shreds of his resolve and pride soon caved in, and he found his broken self curling into Alfred's sturdy body for protection.
If this was another hallucination, Arthur didn't want it to end. But everything about Alfred was so real; the slightly greasy scent of American fast-food wafting from his clothes, the bright twinkle in his crisp blue eyes, and the mop of artfully messed-up blond hair with the little strand that relentlessly stuck up in a rigid crescent on top of his hand. With each passing second, he could feel the darkness ebbing away at his mind subsiding, eventually vanishing, as he immersed himself in the ostensibility of Alfred.
As Arthur drifted into a rare, dreamless sleep, he still couldn't decide whether this was actually happening or not. Alfred could've been something that the brighter half of his imagination cooked up out of desperation and despair. But Alfred was so tangible, the weight of his well-built body snugly pressing into Arthur, and his soothing, calloused hand was still petting Arthur's head reassuringly. So tangible. So existent. So real.
But then again, all of Arthur's hallucinations were.
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HetaOni: They Have Each Other
"How...how long have we been waiting?" A voice, thick with a British accent, inquired. He was sitting on his bed in the safeoom, his sightless eyes locked on the nation in front of him.
"Dunno..." The other replied, his dirty blonde hair falling in his eyes. "England?" The nation found it hard to bring himself to lock gazes with the Brit, but did it anyway. "What...what's it like?"
With a sigh, the older man shook his head, his pale emerald eyes staring down at the floor. "By 'it' I assume you mean being blind? Well America..." England blinked slowly, as if it would change anything, and glanced back up in the direction of the American. "To
Literature
You're not alone. UsUk one shot
Alfred watched Arthur's eyes widen as he saw him standing in the door way, head completely shaved. “A-Alfred?” Arthur had been diagnosed with cancer three years ago and was now in the hospital, he had just gone through chemo-therapy again.
Alfred looked at him and smiled. “I'm not going to let you go through this alone...” He walked over and pulled Arthur into his arms. He loved the other so much and he couldn't stand that the doctors had told him Arthur only had about a month to. Alfred placed his forehead on Arthur's back, tears falling from his eyes. “You'll never be alone...”
Arthur felt the tears on
Literature
Falling For You
Pairing: PruCan
--
Matthew Williams' life wasn't all that interesting. Nothing eventful happened to him, unlike his brother Alfred who always had a story to share. No, Matthew's life was
boring.
He was seventeen years old; a senior in high school. School life for Matthew was
troublesome to say the least. Hardly anyone noticed him; he was constantly ignored and in the halls people would almost always walk into him. In class he managed to avoid being asked a question because the teachers always forgot he was there, and when he did speak up, they always looked surprised. Though sometimes being 'invisible' wasn't a bad thing, he wi
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USUK oneshot I wrote... Sorry for not uploading anything in a while ^^' Please enjoy~!
And since a lot of you seem to be asking, I'll leave for you to personally decide whether Alfie was real or not~
And since a lot of you seem to be asking, I'll leave for you to personally decide whether Alfie was real or not~
© 2012 - 2024 vivtheviolinist
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i read "the bright twinkie in his crisp blue eyes" by accident haha