Draw A Circle [3/?]
Title: Draw A Circle
Warnings: mpreg, sexual situations, lemon in later chapters
Rating: T
Character/Pairings: USxUK
Summary: Upon discovering a box of old photographs, England realizes how much he missed having a child around. Good thing his fairy friends know just what to do to "help".
Chapter 3
Sunlight streamed in through the bedroom window to fall upon the slumbering face of one Arthur Kirkland, who squinted and rolled away from the light. His brows furrowed as he pulled the covers over his head. He didn’t want to wake up yet, not when he was so comfortable. The British nation always slept better whenever he had Alfred to accompany him.
The two had stayed up into the late hours of the night talking about their recent discovery. Arthur felt uncomfortable at first, he had started squirming and shifting his weight a lot on the bed, but he eventually calmed down. Alfred was bright eyed throughout the entire conversation, asking all sorts of questions about babies and pregnancy. Arthur had honestly never seen him this interested in anything before besides fast food and rocket ships.
“How big is it right now?”
Arthur shrugged his shoulders and leaned back against his pillow. “Probably microscopic. I don’t believe I’m that far along.”
“How long until we can see it? I mean, this lasts nine months, right?” Alfred’s eyes were locked on Arthur’s stomach, causing the Brit to squirm under his gaze. Somehow, Arthur knew that Alfred expected the baby to start showing in a matter of days as if it were some sprouting flower.
“Thankfully not for a few months,” Arthur smiled nervously, a pale hand going to his stomach. With all the attention he was getting he was starting to feel as if he had already started showing. But he knew that was only his mind playing tricks on him. “Yes, it lasts nine months. Before long I won’t be able to fit into my clothing…”
Alfred snickered and stifled a laugh behind his hand. Arthur’s head whipped around so that he could give him a venomous glare. The American couldn’t help imagining a very pregnant Arthur waddling around the house in some kind of maternity dress. He would be complaining about back pain, or his feet swelling, or how he didn’t feel attractive anymore. “Don’t worry, I’ll still think you’re awesomely sexy even if you get really fat.”
Arthur rolled his eyes and turned a lovely shade of crimson, replying in a dry tone. “Thank you for the comfort, Alfred.”
Needless to say, Arthur had some terrible dreams that night about his stomach swelling up to the size of a watermelon. Thankfully they were only dreams, and when he awoke the next morning he found his stomach to be the same size it was the night prior. Heaving a sigh of relief, the Briton grabbed his boxers from the floor and stood up to pull them on. He then searched the room for the shirt he had been wearing last night, but found that it was no where in the surrounding area. He decided to wear Alfred’s shirt instead (even though it had a rather vulgar expression of “FUCK YEAH!” written across the front, in red, white, and blue, of course) and found it to be rather large. It worked like a nightgown for him, which pleased the British nation as he descended the stairs.
Upon entering the kitchen, Arthur was shocked to find a full breakfast spread covering the table, with everything from pancakes to biscuits. There was even a large cup of tea sitting at his place waiting for him along with the American who smiled and greeted him as he entered the room.
“Mornin’ Arthur!”
Arthur tried not to show his shock. Instead he calmly took his seat and began filling his plate. “Good morning, Alfred. Did you make all of this?”
“Course I did!” Alfred’s chest puffed out proudly, eyes sparkling. “It’s awesome, isn’t it?”
Arthur hesitantly nibbled on a piece of toast, shifting in his seat and avoiding eye contact. “Why is there so much? It isn’t like there’s anyone here besides the two of us. No need to make enough for an army.”
A wicked grin spread across the American’s face. He brought his coffee mug (which had a doodle of a rocket ship on it) to his lips and took a sip before answering. “You’re eating for two now. That means you should eat at least as much as I do! I want my baby to be well fed.”
He should have known. Arthur’s eyes narrowed dangerously, feeling insulted. “Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean I have to stuff myself the way you do. I don’t feel any more hungry than I normally do.” He knew this was a lie, his stomach even added a protest by growling loudly enough for Alfred to hear. Damnit!
The American let out a hearty laugh. “See? The baby agrees with me!” He started shoveling eggs into his mouth, eggs covered in ketchup. Arthur felt his stomach churn slightly as he watched. He hoped that his new hormones would at least grant him enough mercy so that he didn’t wind up with Alfred’s eating habits. “Dig in!”
It seemed he had no choice in the matter. Alfred practically forced food down Arthur’s throat, demanding his child get the proper nutrition. By the time breakfast was over Arthur had eaten so much that he felt he may explode. He was thankful for the boxers he chose to wear this morning, which expanded with his full stomach. As he lounged in his chair and digested he realized that at least one good thing had come from all of this; Alfred was clearing the table. Not only that, but he was washing the dishes! Arthur thought he may die of shock. The younger nation insisted that Arthur relax and take it easy, saying that he was going to start doing more around the house so that Arthur didn’t have to. Perhaps being pregnant did have its advantages.
- - -
The meeting was going smoothly thus far. There had been no back pain, no nausea, and Arthur had felt completely comfortable in his seat at the United Nations conference. Alfred was, of course, sitting right beside him, casting him worried looks every few minutes as if he expected the Briton to spontaneously combust during the meeting. Ever since he had found out the news of their expected child, Alfred had barely let Arthur breathe let alone left his side. He was there every morning when Arthur made his rounds to the bathroom to puke his guts out, he made him whatever he was craving for breakfast (this morning it had been pancakes with cheese whiz and lemonade, to which Alfred commented “I think the baby made your sense of taste even worse, if that‘s possible!”), he was slowly becoming an expert at getting the kinks out of Arthur’s back, and he satisfied every sexual need the Briton had (they had been getting stronger lately. He figured it was due to the pregnancy).
He had to admit, Arthur hadn’t thought it would be a good idea to come to the United Nations conference today. He had had a particularly bad bout of nausea that morning and he was feeling very tired, but he knew that the World needed him to be there. Everyone was required to attend, no matter how little they actually got accomplished during these sit downs. Alfred had wanted to tell everyone right away about the baby, but thought better of it when the British man threatened his life. Arthur didn’t want anyone finding out his little secret. He was determined to keep it from everyone for as long as possible, which, by the look of things, wouldn‘t be very long at all.
At some point he had begun stroking the tiny bump in his abdomen, giving it a loving smile when no one else was looking. Though he had been utterly terrified when he had first found out, Arthur had quickly grown attached to the child that was growing inside of him, even if pregnancy was probably the worst experience ever.
He was completely distracted from the meeting when he felt his stomach start doing flip flops during one of Germany’s rather serious lectures. Arthur bit his lip and rubbed soothing circles against the bump, hoping to calm it down. It wasn’t working. He was starting to feel nauseous again and it was already midday! ‘Why the bloody hell do they call it ‘morning sickness’ if it could happen any time it damn well pleases?!’ The fact that Italy was eating a rather large bowl of pasta didn’t help matters either. The smell had wafted towards the Briton, causing the bile to rise in his throat. He couldn’t stand this much longer. That sauce smelled terrible! He had read in an article online that the sense of smell was heightened during pregnancy, but he never imagined it to be this bad. The smell of Italy’s pasta sauce had never bothered him before, though seeing as he was now a few weeks into his pregnancy his symptoms did seem to be getting stronger.
He felt it at the back of his throat and could stand no more. Bolting upright and out of his seat (nearly knocking it over in the process), Arthur held a hand over his mouth and politely addressed the table. “E-Excuse me!” He was barely able to get the words out as he felt himself gag. His legs started working before his brain had even given them a command and he fled from the room, feeling the stares of the World on his back.
Said stares turned to Alfred once the British nation was out of sight.
“Veee! Is England okay?” Italy asked, concern evident in his usually happy features. He had even put down his fork.
“’E was looking a bit green,” France commented. “I do hope our Angleterre is feeling alright.” The devilish grin on Francis’ face betrayed his words.
Alfred hesitantly got to his feet, giving the room a nervous look. “H-He hasn’t been feelin’ all that great lately,” he explained before switching his expression to a more serious one. “Since I’m the hero I’d better go and check on him!” Before anyone could object, Alfred had left the room and set off to find the British nation.
The room fell silent once again.
“Maybe he just needs some pasta to settle his stomach, vee!”
- - -
Alfred threw the door to the men’s room open and was instantly greeted by the horrid sound of Arthur retching violently in the nearest stall. The smell was atrocious, but Alfred was a hero and wasn’t phased by such matters. He stepped into the stall and stood behind the Brit, patting his back and swiping his bangs from his eyes.
“It’s alright,” he whispered. Arthur was shaking in his arms, covered in sweat. “I’m here.”
Arthur gave him a nod to acknowledge his presence before leaning over the toilet again for another round. Perhaps his latest craving hadn’t agreed that well with his stomach.
Alfred lay his head against Arthur’s shoulder, one arm looped around his stomach. This was how he comforted Arthur every morning, every time this happened. It worked like a charm and soon Arthur sank back into Alfred’s arms. Alfred held him there, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and gave him a kiss between his eyebrows. He then reached out to flush the toilet, waiting until Arthur had stopped shaking to help him to his feet.
“Are you going back to the meeting?” Alfred asked, leaning on the sink counter and watching Arthur wash his mouth out.
Arthur spit into the sink, running the water to wash it down. No matter how hard he tried it was always a very difficult task to get the taste of vomit out of ones mouth. “I’m still feeling rather queasy. But this is a United Nations meeting, it isn’t like I could just return home.”
“You have an excuse, Arthur,” Alfred replied, a look of concern crossing his face. “Look, I’ll tell the others that you have some kinda bad stomach virus of somethin’. Then we could go home and you could get some rest.”
Arthur grabbed some paper towels and wiped his hands and mouth with them. “I don’t need you to look after me all the time,” Turning, the British man smiled at the American. “I’m an adult, remember? Besides, we would look awfully suspicious if both of us were to leave at once.”
“But--”
“You stay here,” Arthur tossed the paper towel away and headed for the door. “The people need their hero, after all.”
Before he had the chance to open the door, Alfred’s arms had encircled him again. “Be careful, alright?”
Arthur smiled, turning around in the embrace and staring the man he loved in the eyes. “I’ll be fine, you silly git. Now get back to that meeting.” With this said, Arthur leaned up, gave Alfred a quick kiss, and was gone.
Alfred stood in the bathroom for a few minutes, smiling at nothing, his hand on his lips. When had their relationship reached this level? It was like they were a married couple. It comforted him and made his heart swell up tightly in his chest.
- - -
Being Alfred meant you were a lot of things. It meant you were heroic, independent, free, a glutton, caring, sometimes intelligent, but most of all it meant you were oblivious to those around you. So, seeing as Alfred is Alfred, he hadn’t looked before stepping out of the bathroom and had thus slammed right into someone.
“Ow!” Landing hard on the ground, he clenched his eyes shut and rubbed his forehead. “Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I wa--”
“It’s okay,” came a very timid voice.
Alfred opened his eyes only to be met by a pair very identical to his own; the eyes that belonged to his younger brother, Matthew. Smiling, Alfred helped his brother to his feet and pat him on the back. This wasn’t the first time he had knocked him over. “Matty! In a rush to go to the bathroom?”
The Canadian nation shook his head, curl bobbing. “I came to check on Arthur. Is he feeling better?”
Alfred’s face fell. He felt nervous all of the sudden. His brother was generally concerned for the former father and all he could do was lie to him about it. This wasn’t right. Heroes don’t lie! “H-He has a stomach virus. He went home.” Or maybe they do.
The concern was evident in Matthew’s eyes. His grip on Kumajirou tightened and his glasses slid down his nose. “Oh…well, I hope he feels better soon. He really didn’t look well.”
This was breaking his heart. Alfred couldn’t take it anymore! How could he lie to his own brother? Besides, this was his niece of nephew that were talking about. Didn’t Matthew have a right to know seeing as he was going to be an uncle in only a few month’s time?
“I’d better head back to the meeting then.”
“Wait, Matty!” Alfred reached out and grabbed his brother by the shoulder, promptly stopping him from taking a step further. He couldn’t believe he was about to do this. Arthur was going to kill him.
“What is it, Alfred?”
“Meet me at McDonalds after the meeting,” Alfred whispered. “I’ll explain everything.”
A/N: *wipes the sweat from her forehead* This chapter was a pain! At first the middle part was the beginning, then I decided I didn’t like it and started writing it all over again. Then I took the old chapter and combined it with the first and added on this ending. Thankfully I have the rest of this pretty much planned out, so I shouldn’t have THAT much more trouble.
Sorry I left off at another cliffhanger. This one is necessary. It’ll keep you guys guessing. Will Alfred crack under the pressure and tell Matthew everything? Or will he just keep lying?
Leave a review if you can! Thanks for reading!
Warnings: mpreg, sexual situations, lemon in later chapters
Rating: T
Character/Pairings: USxUK
Summary: Upon discovering a box of old photographs, England realizes how much he missed having a child around. Good thing his fairy friends know just what to do to "help".
Chapter 3
Sunlight streamed in through the bedroom window to fall upon the slumbering face of one Arthur Kirkland, who squinted and rolled away from the light. His brows furrowed as he pulled the covers over his head. He didn’t want to wake up yet, not when he was so comfortable. The British nation always slept better whenever he had Alfred to accompany him.
The two had stayed up into the late hours of the night talking about their recent discovery. Arthur felt uncomfortable at first, he had started squirming and shifting his weight a lot on the bed, but he eventually calmed down. Alfred was bright eyed throughout the entire conversation, asking all sorts of questions about babies and pregnancy. Arthur had honestly never seen him this interested in anything before besides fast food and rocket ships.
“How big is it right now?”
Arthur shrugged his shoulders and leaned back against his pillow. “Probably microscopic. I don’t believe I’m that far along.”
“How long until we can see it? I mean, this lasts nine months, right?” Alfred’s eyes were locked on Arthur’s stomach, causing the Brit to squirm under his gaze. Somehow, Arthur knew that Alfred expected the baby to start showing in a matter of days as if it were some sprouting flower.
“Thankfully not for a few months,” Arthur smiled nervously, a pale hand going to his stomach. With all the attention he was getting he was starting to feel as if he had already started showing. But he knew that was only his mind playing tricks on him. “Yes, it lasts nine months. Before long I won’t be able to fit into my clothing…”
Alfred snickered and stifled a laugh behind his hand. Arthur’s head whipped around so that he could give him a venomous glare. The American couldn’t help imagining a very pregnant Arthur waddling around the house in some kind of maternity dress. He would be complaining about back pain, or his feet swelling, or how he didn’t feel attractive anymore. “Don’t worry, I’ll still think you’re awesomely sexy even if you get really fat.”
Arthur rolled his eyes and turned a lovely shade of crimson, replying in a dry tone. “Thank you for the comfort, Alfred.”
Needless to say, Arthur had some terrible dreams that night about his stomach swelling up to the size of a watermelon. Thankfully they were only dreams, and when he awoke the next morning he found his stomach to be the same size it was the night prior. Heaving a sigh of relief, the Briton grabbed his boxers from the floor and stood up to pull them on. He then searched the room for the shirt he had been wearing last night, but found that it was no where in the surrounding area. He decided to wear Alfred’s shirt instead (even though it had a rather vulgar expression of “FUCK YEAH!” written across the front, in red, white, and blue, of course) and found it to be rather large. It worked like a nightgown for him, which pleased the British nation as he descended the stairs.
Upon entering the kitchen, Arthur was shocked to find a full breakfast spread covering the table, with everything from pancakes to biscuits. There was even a large cup of tea sitting at his place waiting for him along with the American who smiled and greeted him as he entered the room.
“Mornin’ Arthur!”
Arthur tried not to show his shock. Instead he calmly took his seat and began filling his plate. “Good morning, Alfred. Did you make all of this?”
“Course I did!” Alfred’s chest puffed out proudly, eyes sparkling. “It’s awesome, isn’t it?”
Arthur hesitantly nibbled on a piece of toast, shifting in his seat and avoiding eye contact. “Why is there so much? It isn’t like there’s anyone here besides the two of us. No need to make enough for an army.”
A wicked grin spread across the American’s face. He brought his coffee mug (which had a doodle of a rocket ship on it) to his lips and took a sip before answering. “You’re eating for two now. That means you should eat at least as much as I do! I want my baby to be well fed.”
He should have known. Arthur’s eyes narrowed dangerously, feeling insulted. “Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean I have to stuff myself the way you do. I don’t feel any more hungry than I normally do.” He knew this was a lie, his stomach even added a protest by growling loudly enough for Alfred to hear. Damnit!
The American let out a hearty laugh. “See? The baby agrees with me!” He started shoveling eggs into his mouth, eggs covered in ketchup. Arthur felt his stomach churn slightly as he watched. He hoped that his new hormones would at least grant him enough mercy so that he didn’t wind up with Alfred’s eating habits. “Dig in!”
It seemed he had no choice in the matter. Alfred practically forced food down Arthur’s throat, demanding his child get the proper nutrition. By the time breakfast was over Arthur had eaten so much that he felt he may explode. He was thankful for the boxers he chose to wear this morning, which expanded with his full stomach. As he lounged in his chair and digested he realized that at least one good thing had come from all of this; Alfred was clearing the table. Not only that, but he was washing the dishes! Arthur thought he may die of shock. The younger nation insisted that Arthur relax and take it easy, saying that he was going to start doing more around the house so that Arthur didn’t have to. Perhaps being pregnant did have its advantages.
- - -
The meeting was going smoothly thus far. There had been no back pain, no nausea, and Arthur had felt completely comfortable in his seat at the United Nations conference. Alfred was, of course, sitting right beside him, casting him worried looks every few minutes as if he expected the Briton to spontaneously combust during the meeting. Ever since he had found out the news of their expected child, Alfred had barely let Arthur breathe let alone left his side. He was there every morning when Arthur made his rounds to the bathroom to puke his guts out, he made him whatever he was craving for breakfast (this morning it had been pancakes with cheese whiz and lemonade, to which Alfred commented “I think the baby made your sense of taste even worse, if that‘s possible!”), he was slowly becoming an expert at getting the kinks out of Arthur’s back, and he satisfied every sexual need the Briton had (they had been getting stronger lately. He figured it was due to the pregnancy).
He had to admit, Arthur hadn’t thought it would be a good idea to come to the United Nations conference today. He had had a particularly bad bout of nausea that morning and he was feeling very tired, but he knew that the World needed him to be there. Everyone was required to attend, no matter how little they actually got accomplished during these sit downs. Alfred had wanted to tell everyone right away about the baby, but thought better of it when the British man threatened his life. Arthur didn’t want anyone finding out his little secret. He was determined to keep it from everyone for as long as possible, which, by the look of things, wouldn‘t be very long at all.
At some point he had begun stroking the tiny bump in his abdomen, giving it a loving smile when no one else was looking. Though he had been utterly terrified when he had first found out, Arthur had quickly grown attached to the child that was growing inside of him, even if pregnancy was probably the worst experience ever.
He was completely distracted from the meeting when he felt his stomach start doing flip flops during one of Germany’s rather serious lectures. Arthur bit his lip and rubbed soothing circles against the bump, hoping to calm it down. It wasn’t working. He was starting to feel nauseous again and it was already midday! ‘Why the bloody hell do they call it ‘morning sickness’ if it could happen any time it damn well pleases?!’ The fact that Italy was eating a rather large bowl of pasta didn’t help matters either. The smell had wafted towards the Briton, causing the bile to rise in his throat. He couldn’t stand this much longer. That sauce smelled terrible! He had read in an article online that the sense of smell was heightened during pregnancy, but he never imagined it to be this bad. The smell of Italy’s pasta sauce had never bothered him before, though seeing as he was now a few weeks into his pregnancy his symptoms did seem to be getting stronger.
He felt it at the back of his throat and could stand no more. Bolting upright and out of his seat (nearly knocking it over in the process), Arthur held a hand over his mouth and politely addressed the table. “E-Excuse me!” He was barely able to get the words out as he felt himself gag. His legs started working before his brain had even given them a command and he fled from the room, feeling the stares of the World on his back.
Said stares turned to Alfred once the British nation was out of sight.
“Veee! Is England okay?” Italy asked, concern evident in his usually happy features. He had even put down his fork.
“’E was looking a bit green,” France commented. “I do hope our Angleterre is feeling alright.” The devilish grin on Francis’ face betrayed his words.
Alfred hesitantly got to his feet, giving the room a nervous look. “H-He hasn’t been feelin’ all that great lately,” he explained before switching his expression to a more serious one. “Since I’m the hero I’d better go and check on him!” Before anyone could object, Alfred had left the room and set off to find the British nation.
The room fell silent once again.
“Maybe he just needs some pasta to settle his stomach, vee!”
- - -
Alfred threw the door to the men’s room open and was instantly greeted by the horrid sound of Arthur retching violently in the nearest stall. The smell was atrocious, but Alfred was a hero and wasn’t phased by such matters. He stepped into the stall and stood behind the Brit, patting his back and swiping his bangs from his eyes.
“It’s alright,” he whispered. Arthur was shaking in his arms, covered in sweat. “I’m here.”
Arthur gave him a nod to acknowledge his presence before leaning over the toilet again for another round. Perhaps his latest craving hadn’t agreed that well with his stomach.
Alfred lay his head against Arthur’s shoulder, one arm looped around his stomach. This was how he comforted Arthur every morning, every time this happened. It worked like a charm and soon Arthur sank back into Alfred’s arms. Alfred held him there, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and gave him a kiss between his eyebrows. He then reached out to flush the toilet, waiting until Arthur had stopped shaking to help him to his feet.
“Are you going back to the meeting?” Alfred asked, leaning on the sink counter and watching Arthur wash his mouth out.
Arthur spit into the sink, running the water to wash it down. No matter how hard he tried it was always a very difficult task to get the taste of vomit out of ones mouth. “I’m still feeling rather queasy. But this is a United Nations meeting, it isn’t like I could just return home.”
“You have an excuse, Arthur,” Alfred replied, a look of concern crossing his face. “Look, I’ll tell the others that you have some kinda bad stomach virus of somethin’. Then we could go home and you could get some rest.”
Arthur grabbed some paper towels and wiped his hands and mouth with them. “I don’t need you to look after me all the time,” Turning, the British man smiled at the American. “I’m an adult, remember? Besides, we would look awfully suspicious if both of us were to leave at once.”
“But--”
“You stay here,” Arthur tossed the paper towel away and headed for the door. “The people need their hero, after all.”
Before he had the chance to open the door, Alfred’s arms had encircled him again. “Be careful, alright?”
Arthur smiled, turning around in the embrace and staring the man he loved in the eyes. “I’ll be fine, you silly git. Now get back to that meeting.” With this said, Arthur leaned up, gave Alfred a quick kiss, and was gone.
Alfred stood in the bathroom for a few minutes, smiling at nothing, his hand on his lips. When had their relationship reached this level? It was like they were a married couple. It comforted him and made his heart swell up tightly in his chest.
- - -
Being Alfred meant you were a lot of things. It meant you were heroic, independent, free, a glutton, caring, sometimes intelligent, but most of all it meant you were oblivious to those around you. So, seeing as Alfred is Alfred, he hadn’t looked before stepping out of the bathroom and had thus slammed right into someone.
“Ow!” Landing hard on the ground, he clenched his eyes shut and rubbed his forehead. “Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I wa--”
“It’s okay,” came a very timid voice.
Alfred opened his eyes only to be met by a pair very identical to his own; the eyes that belonged to his younger brother, Matthew. Smiling, Alfred helped his brother to his feet and pat him on the back. This wasn’t the first time he had knocked him over. “Matty! In a rush to go to the bathroom?”
The Canadian nation shook his head, curl bobbing. “I came to check on Arthur. Is he feeling better?”
Alfred’s face fell. He felt nervous all of the sudden. His brother was generally concerned for the former father and all he could do was lie to him about it. This wasn’t right. Heroes don’t lie! “H-He has a stomach virus. He went home.” Or maybe they do.
The concern was evident in Matthew’s eyes. His grip on Kumajirou tightened and his glasses slid down his nose. “Oh…well, I hope he feels better soon. He really didn’t look well.”
This was breaking his heart. Alfred couldn’t take it anymore! How could he lie to his own brother? Besides, this was his niece of nephew that were talking about. Didn’t Matthew have a right to know seeing as he was going to be an uncle in only a few month’s time?
“I’d better head back to the meeting then.”
“Wait, Matty!” Alfred reached out and grabbed his brother by the shoulder, promptly stopping him from taking a step further. He couldn’t believe he was about to do this. Arthur was going to kill him.
“What is it, Alfred?”
“Meet me at McDonalds after the meeting,” Alfred whispered. “I’ll explain everything.”
A/N: *wipes the sweat from her forehead* This chapter was a pain! At first the middle part was the beginning, then I decided I didn’t like it and started writing it all over again. Then I took the old chapter and combined it with the first and added on this ending. Thankfully I have the rest of this pretty much planned out, so I shouldn’t have THAT much more trouble.
Sorry I left off at another cliffhanger. This one is necessary. It’ll keep you guys guessing. Will Alfred crack under the pressure and tell Matthew everything? Or will he just keep lying?
Leave a review if you can! Thanks for reading!