WARNING: FUCKING CHRIST IF YOU DONT GET THE POINT BY NOW THEN WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU

AN: Sorry for the short update. Y'know depression and such. Still, here we are. Again, the comments and reviews make my heart soar, and the adorable comments heal my heart a bit every time I see one. Anywho, hope y'all enjoy.

It was dark outside, and most everyone was composed. Everyone but the two upstairs. After multiple attempts to walk into the room, Ivan had just growled at Francis, looking more than just terrifying as he held Alfred. Kiku had searched the house after a small panic attack, and was working on screwing the front door back in place, having a bit of trouble due to the bent wood. Francis stood next to Arthur as they planned meals, as no one had eaten anything yet that day. They'd called the White House, and there was a special hospice crew coming over to help the other countries with Alfred's condition, even though the others knew how to treat Alfred perfectly well, you couldn't exactly just buy IV's at your local supermarket.
"Francis?..."
"Yes, amour?"
"Do you-... Do you think Alfred did this because of me?..."
Francis sighed, and kissed Arthur's cheek, rubbing his back and comforting him.
"Ma cherie, you can't blame yourself for this. No one knows why he did this to himself, don't jump to such conclusions."
"I was just so- so nasty to him!"
Arthur sobbed, getting horrible emotional again as he started to tear up, thanking any powers that be that he had Francis, who kissed the small tears away as he overreacted again. In all truth, the Brit was a very, very emotional man, and hated himself for it. Francis was the only one able to calm him down, and Arthur clung to his love, breathing in the blonde's scent to relax a little before he began sobbing again.
"Fleur, please, come to your senses, we need to go shopping soon, I can't have you like this in the middle of the market."
Francis said, his voice tired and unhappy as he comforted Arthur for the millionth time that day. Arthur stood up straight, wiping his tears and grabbing the small piece of paper listing the food needed.
"Alright, alright, I-I'm fine. Let's just go."
Arthur took Francis's hand, and walked with him past Kiku, and then to the car, keeping his eyes to the ground.

As the two drove off, Kiku dropped the screwdriver and ran upstairs, carefully clearing his throat and making Ivan aware of his presence before entering, dark eyes worried at the sight of the two. Ivan, tearful and protective, and Alfred, crying silently in his coma-like state, clinging to the Russian's warmth.
"Ivan-san, do you need anything?"
Kiku asked, slowly kneeling next to the two, an ant compared to the large men beside him.
"When a-are the- the медсестры... The nurses, when are they coming?"
The Russian asked, softly brushing the blonde's hair out of his face, the affection in Ivan's eyes more than anything that Kiku had ever seen.
"I think tomorrow…."
Kiku answered, his voice small and soft, almost like a mouse. It was all kind of fitting, the bear, the dog and the mouse all together, caring for each other. Almost like a fairy tale.
"I-Ivan-san, do- do you-... Love Alfred?"
He asked, hesitant, but curious all the same. Kiku had seen it for awhile now, when Ivan thought no one was looking, he gazed at the American beauty with eyes and a heart full to bursting with admiration, the way one would look at their first love. It was heartbreaking and beautiful at the same time, and the little Japanese man never really knew how to bring it up in conversation.

"Yes."
Ivan stated simply, his demeanour bittersweet as Alfred seemed to finally relax, mumbling something indecipherable as he smiled oh so softly and buried himself in the bigger country's strong chest. It was adorable in every sense of the world, and Ivan let out an exhausted and amused chuckle, just happy that the blonde was no longer sobbing in pain.
"I've loved him for a long time… I-I can't believe I let this happen…"
Kiku rubbed Ivan's shoulder, gentle and sympathetic as he comforted the large man,
"It's not your fault, don't beat yourself up like that, please."
He said, looking up to Ivan as sat with the two, gentle and exhausted breath filling the air as they all stayed there, finally relaxing after such a hard day.

"Arthur, please stop fighting me about this. I'm going to be cooking, and you're just going to have to deal with it."
Arthur had been arguing the entire duration of their shopping trip, his defensive anger getting the best of him as he pined and begged, trying to get Francis trying to let him cook something.
"Love, please-"
The cart stopped, and the Frenchman looked at his lover, his handsome and usually calm face now weighted with exhaustion showed irritation. He gripped the Brit's shoulders in his hands and looked Arthur straight in the eyes, trying to get his message across.

"Look. Arthur. I love you. I really do. But right now I need you to stop. You need to keep your spine and fend for yourself. I want you to cook for him, but you get nervous and burn everything when I'm not there with you. Arthur, I don't have the energy to babysit you right now."

The two stood there for a second, just caught up in each other as Arthur took a deep breath, nodding.
"I'm sorry, I just- "
"No- stop. No excuses. Please. We need to focus on Alfred this time, not us."
The rest of the trip was in silence, Arthur wiping small tears from emerald eyes, and Francis holding himself high in an illusion of control. God knows the two needed it.

The house was silent as the couple returned, the door halfway on and bent, standing but just barely, a bit of a haunting metaphor for the entire situation. Bags were set on the counter, and Francis headed upstairs, a hand on Arthur's chest to tell him to stay downstairs. The Frenchman cautiously peeked through the door, expecting to meet a deep and menacing growl from Ivan, but instead saw a sweet scene, the three sleeping peacefully, against each other. The bear the dog and the mouse, symbols of everlasting friendship and eternal love.

Something very much needed in such dark times.