Him - A Sad PruAme Fic

Prompt: “I still see him every time I close my eyes.”
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It had been almost a month. An agonizing month for husband, friends, and brother alike. It had been so hard adjusting for Alfred; never waking up to the heat of his body near him every morning, never hearing his booming and filling, yet sometimes annoying, laugh, never going out to the bar with Antonio, Francis, and him on Saturday nights so he could always drive him home. His death had created a cavern in his heart that could only ever be filled with his own tears, only to be emptied again as the liquid evaporated the next day. And it went like that, Alfred crying in bed, only to stop once the hole in his heart was filled and he could cry no more.

Francis advised the American to see a therapist, since Alfred had begun to lock himself away the last couple of weeks and hadn’t seen him since the funeral. Little did the blond Frenchman know, though, that Alfred had rarely gotten out of bed since that day they put the other half of him in the ground. Alfred only got up once maybe every two days, to just eat at least something, whether it be a bowl of cereal or some soda crackers and water. The rest of the time, he couldn’t bring himself to lift the sheets off his numb body and walk around the house because everything else, everything Alfred owned and everything he used to own, reminded Alfred of all that they worked for; it all reminded him of the deceased.

“Maybe,” Alfred breathed into his cell phone, weak, not only from the lack of food, but from the heavy heart filled with tears that he needed to carry.

“Seriously, mon ami¹. We’re all very worried about you,” Francis replied to the mourning widower.

“I know.”

“Please, Alfred. Gil–“

Alfred twitched at the sound of that name.

“I mean, he wouldn’t want you to just lie there and cry. I know that for a fact.”

Alfred sighed, pressing the speaker phone button and rolling onto his side. He didn’t feel like talking anymore, but the sound of a friend’s voice comforted him even just a little.

“I know, Francis. And maybe I might go visit a therapist. I just, I don’t know,” he whispered, tired as could be.

“Later today, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, Francis.” Alfred’s eyes started to water.

“De rien², mon ami.”

“Hey, before you go, I wanna tell you something.” His nostrils began to sting and flare.

“Hm?”

He took a silent, shaky breath, closing his eyes as he spoke. “I still see him every time I close my eyes. I, I see his silver hair, his warm, red eyes. I still see him, and I, I still hear him saying my name.”

Alfred began to sob, and soon, began to bawl. “I miss him. I miss him so much, Francis.”

“We all do, Alfred. We all do.”