Chapter Text
Alfred POV
I wake up seething.
Laying in bed in the shared tent with the other Allies, I clench my teeth. The light is too bright, my blankets scratch my skin, and I'm itching everywhere. Fuck!
I get out of bed, but a hand catches my chest. "No, Alfred, it's too early, lad."
My eye twitches. I throw him off and stomp outside to light a cigarette. But when it's too windy for my lighter to work, I nearly scream and kick the ground, throwing my lighter and cigarettes on the ground.
"...so grumpy lately, eh. I bet it's just because he's angry with Kiku."
I turn around, and this time, the urge to bite their heads off is strong as Mattie and Arthur and Francis traipse outside of the tent, clearly having not seen me. I bet they hate me. They all think I'm pathetic and fat and stupid. Well, I fucking hate them too.
I angrily walk away, fists clenched, so deep in my own head that I run into a tree. This time, I do scream in rage as my face stings, and I can feel a sore nose.
"Aiya! Can't a man meditate around here?" Yao appears, looking miffed.
I sigh, trying to not snap at the man. "Sorry."
He frowns. "Are you okay? Your nose looks broken."
I shrug. "Ran into that tree right there. Go back to, uh, meditating, dude."
He scrutinizes me, and shifts, wincing at his arm in a sling. My anger only increases, thinking of how Kiku has been treating Yao. "You seem so angry lately, aiya. Your chi is very not aligned."
I blink. "How can you tell without touching me?"
Yao shrugs. "Old skill. And honestly, no one is that moody and has their chi aligned. Are...are you alright?"
I feel tears sting my eyes, surprised at Yao's concern. He looks worried, but then he is distracted by Arthur calling out, "Breakfast!"
Yao looks back at me. "Aiya, you ought to eat."
I nod. "I will, dude! Go ahead, I know how you get when you don't get food."
Yao's eyes linger on me, and then he goes, leaving me by myself. My nose stings, and the sensation brings my rage back. I punch the tree, and subsequently break my hand. I roar in utter anger, stomping my foot. The feeling is so intense, so overwhelming, that I briefly consider grabbing my pistol, finding a secluded spot, and fucking shooting myself in the mouth.
Before I can stop myself, I am walking swiftly towards an empty, quiet spot. I take my pistol out of my waist holster and sit on the ground. I aim the gun at the roof of my mouth, pull the trigger....and nothing happens.
Incensed, I throw my gun at the ground, stomping on it until it breaks. "FUCK!"
"....angry, eh. Are you...are you okay, Alfred?"
No, I just tried to fucking kill myself. I can't even speak. No...now I'm crying. Fuck. I'm not even angry anymore. No...what am I even feeling?
"Hey. I bet you just need breakfast. Hang on, why'd you destroy your gun? Alfred, you need that, you dumbass."
Mattie says, sighing. He grabs my shoulder, and I look up at him, getting to my feet. "It looked at me funny."
He chuckles. "I bet it did."
We walk back in silence, me thinking over the last hour, wondering if this is normal. I bet it's just bloodlust. Yeah, that's it!
I giggle. "I've been acting so weird. You're right, I just need some food!"