Freak Show Chapter 8
Yes! I updated! I'm so happy I got this in at last.

Back at Ivan's home, he still held Alfred tight, burying his face into Alfred's shoulder. "The night is only an enemy. I know it's hard. I know. I could never put myself in your place but that doesn't mean I don't love you more than anything. I do. I love you." Ivan whispered, planting a gentle kiss on Alfred's shoulder. They stayed that way, on the floor until morning, neither of them wanting to move, both too content in each other's arms. In the end, they dozed off like that, and Ivan woke the next morning with Alfred still there. He'd turned back to the bright and healthy looking human he had been. Like he expected.
Able to find happiness, despite the form, breaks the curse. But you'll still fear my gift of curse, come daylight's end, it sets again, for this long journey, hasn't come to an end. One more lesson, shall be defined, lest death come early, with destiny, it has entwined.
Ivan couldn't get it out of his head. It was like a bad song, played over and over. Did he mean something? Some mystical prophecy? What had he even gotten into? He knew better than anyone that this situation was bad, but he'd never say he regretted trying to save Alfred, if he hadn't what would have become of him? Alfred continued to breathe softly, and Ivan watched, almost in awe. Even though he was scrawny, and stress had placed dark circles under his eyes, his sleeping was entrancing. He ended up picking up Alfred and taking him to the bed, laying him down and pressing a kiss to his forehead, then getting dressed so he could wander around his house, wondering what to do, now that Alfred was asleep.
Days passed, and after the second day, the Ringleader sent out Kiku to search for Arthur, or Alfred, or both. What Kiku returned with was the mangled, broken body of Arthur Kirkland. He'd flown up to as high an altitude as he could before just..letting go and dropping to the ground. Francis was in pieces as his body was dragged back in, bloody and lifeless. With fierce rebellion, he kept the corpse in his cage, holding the cold mass closely. He knew in time it would begin to decompose and he'd have to let it go, but for now, he wouldn't. He couldn't bring himself to let it go. "How could he drive you to do this.. you must have been terrified he'd hurt you again... Arthur... Arthur..." he whimpered occasionally, over and over. "I'll make that son of a bitch pay.. you'll see. Even if it kills me.. wait for me Arthur, wait for me. I need someone to make sure I don't get denied passage through those golden gates you used to tell me about, before I'd fall asleep. Wait for me.."
Occasionally he'd break into hysterical tears, and he'd screech and wail, sometimes he go into frantic fits, because he could have sworn the body had moved. But no. It was where had always been. Days went by slower now, and the Ringleader would come in, with his mask on his face, and look at Francis in disgust. Whippings were daily, and everyone heard him talking about killing him off. Even Francis heard. But he didn't care, he begged to be killed at this point, and had tried himself. He was tangled in himself, and no one saw any hope for him. Not even Feli, who had recovered a little since his incident, and Ludwig always had him by his side, holding his hand or holding him. No one blamed him. Feliciano was weak, and still tried his best to console Francis, often straining himself to the point of depression. It was a dark time for the Show, and when there wasn't screaming, there was silence. Dead, cold, silence.