Daddy!EnglandxReader - Broken

"WahhhhHHhh!"

You were finally at your wit’s end.

Four nights of it – Four nights worth of incessant crying and screaming from the children next door...

"AH HAhhHha.."

All you wanted to do was try and get some sleep –

You pushed the pillow further over your head and tried desperately not to scream with frustration. You'd moved to England in the hopes of making a fresh start, and adjusting to a new job was making you restless in general. Only now, you had to also deal with the incessant screaming of children whose parents were either deaf or...-

"AHhhhhhhhhHh!"

well, deaf.

Guess I best get up then.

You threw your pillow on the floor in defeat.



You really didn't want to do this. It was not your place to get involved in other people's lives, especially when it came to children, something you had very little experience in... But you needed to sleep! Sleep was good; you enjoyed it quite a lot. It meant that you were in top form for your first day at a new job tomorrow; it meant that you wouldn't be falling asleep at said job either.

... I'll just be polite and ask if they could be quieter...Then I can hopefully get at least a few hours of sleep before I have to get up.



As you walked through the flat, flipping light switches as you made towards the door you tried to remind yourself that you weren't being a bitch. But still, you hadn't even had chance to introduce yourself to your new neighbours yet, and here you were about to tell them to be quiet. You should have really introduced yourself first, but there was really nothing that could be done now.

You sighed, and knocked on your neighbour’s door.
Knock, knock, knock.



You realised, at that point that you hadn't really thought about what to say.  

The door swung open.

"Err... Excuse me, I'm ______ _______, your new next door neighbour...."

You trailed off as you realised you were talking to a twenty-something year old man who was, in fact, sinfully gorgeous.

- Or at least he would be if he didn't look so tired and worn out.

To say that he was a good few inches taller than you, and fairly well built despite his lean appearance he looked like you could easily knock him over in his current state. His hair, a rather flattering dirty blonde colour hung around his face limply and looked in desperate need of a wash. His skin too was pale and although you had never met this man before you imagined it to have a lot more colour.

You frowned at this.

He was also dressed in pyjamas, although slightly less fazed than yourself, who had become all too aware of the fact that you were clad in a similar fashion. You flushed red as you realised that bits of your sleeping shirt were tucked haphazardly into your pyjama bottoms. Not to mention that a large portion of your [H/C] hair was knotted bird's-nest-style at the back of your head. (You didn't realise until you went back into the bedroom, much to your embarrassment)

At least, you thought wryly, you weren't the only one dressed to go to sleep.

"Here to complain about the noise I take it..." His spoke with a frosty voice. His cultured, undoubtedly upper-class accent setting you back slightly. And here you were thinking that such a posh accent only existed in films and cheesy sitcoms...

"...I - Um. Yes, but you see-"

"You've come to tell me to be quite? Well, you know, it's frightfully difficult to make a child stop crying at the drop of a hat. Or perhaps, you have come to lecture me in how I should raise my children like everyone else in this godforsaken place? You people all seem to think that I don't have my share of problems like everyone else! How dare you-"

You stood there, ramrod straight with shock, listening to him as he ranted and raved. You were actually taken aback. Okay, you had expected that he would probably bit a bit annoyed that you had come round, fair enough. Yes, you had come to ask him to be quiet, but you were not so self-righteous that you would give him a lecture on his children or how to raise his children...

"- and stop sticking your nose in other peoples' business!"

"Actually, Mr..."

"Kirkland." He said sharply.

"Mr. Kirkland" You raised your head to meet his cold, green eyes." I came here to politely ask you to be quiet because I start my job in the morn-"

"WAhhhHhhhhhh!"

Before you could even properly give him a piece of your mind your attention was diverted past Mr. Kirkland and through to his flat, spotting a little boy running towards the door.

"D-Daddy..."

You're eyes were drawn then to Mr. Kirkland's, and noticed that they had softened upon seeing his child crying.

The little boy's sleeves of his pyjama shirt were pulled over his hands as a makeshift handkerchief, one of which was trailing a stuffed bear along the carpeted floor. He didn't even acknowledge your presence, but threw his arms out to his father as a signal to be picked up and comforted.

"Matty, I thought I just got you to sleep... we don't want you waking Ally do we?" He spoke softly to his child, brushing away a stray tear as the boy in question sniffed and nodded his head.                                                                     

You noticed that he wasn't very old - perhaps around four or five at a guess. His hair was a slightly different shade to his fathers, and he had such vivid violet eyes that you had to mentally chastise yourself before you took him into your own arms.  

"... I want mummy." You heard him say, barely above a whisper. He sniffed, his beautiful eyes brimming with tears once more.

Mr. Kirkland kissed the child on the forehead, and whispered soothing words, completely oblivious to your presence.


"I think you should leave." He stated eventually, not even bothering to look at you as he spoke.

In any other circumstance, perhaps you would have argued, defended yourself, give him a piece of your mind about the way he was treating you. But then again, you had already seen two sides of this man, and if the way he treated his child was anything to go by he seemed to only be a parent having a hard time. It was understandable. After all, didn't he mention something about being another person to complain about the noise? Did that mean other neighbours had already been round?

Perhaps you owed him an apology.

"I...Er. I'm sorry." You said simply. "I had no right coming here."

You looked at the little boy once more, and back to the father and before you knew it added "But if there's anything that I can do..."

You saw the way that his rather thick eyebrows shot up his head. Obviously he hadn't been expecting that offer...

"Thank you." He said, placing his free hand on the door. The boy, now nuzzled into the crook of his father's neck and would soon be asleep. Mr. Kirkland gave you a brief glance.
"But we don't need your pity."

He shut the door in your face.

---

Arthur looked at the little form nuzzled close to him and felt his heart ache with pain.

...Matthew looks so different from the same little boy just two weeks ago.

To see his little boys so upset was like being shot in the heart. Mathew's eyes were puffy and red raw, much like the tip of his tiny nose. Apparently, he had been wiping his nose on poor Kumajirou too, who, Arthur decided, needed a wash tomorrow.  


Carefully, he had carried him over to the bedroom he shared with his brother. He looked to be nodding off anyway, and when he managed to pull back the covers and carefully place the little boy into his bed he didn't seem to protest at all. Apparently both boys had worn themselves out from crying.



After giving both boys a goodnight kiss he walked back into the kitchen and poured himself some gin.

He took a hearty sip, and blanched at the taste.

He wasn't inclined to drinking spirits, especially when he had a lot - he was a terrible drunk. But he needed something to dull the pain he felt in his chest. He needed an escape from the sudden loneliness that struck him now that his children were asleep.

His thoughts flickered to the young woman at the door. She was his new next door neighbour and he'd gone and lashed out at her like a right twat when her intentions were obviously not as bad as he'd made them out to be. But it was true, he didn't need her pity. He could look after his own children just fine. He didn't need anyone. They would get through it just fine.  


Finished with his drink, he placed the empty glass down on the countertop and sat down in the living room. He wished he hadn't though, because he had completely forgotten that he had left paperwork to go over on the table.

He had been avoiding looking at them for two days.

He read the name at the top, her name. Before he knew it, he saw dark stains on the crisp white paper.

Funeral documents.

They would be cremating her tomorrow.

His wife, the mother of his two children.

He sobbed desperately into his hand.

She passed away a two weeks ago after being involved in a car crash on the way to the shops. When he asked the police, they told him that driver was speeding so fast that even if she had looked both ways at the junction it wouldn't have made much difference. The car had hit her head on into the driver's side of the car, killing her and the driver instantly. He broke down, a grown man in front of two police officers who could only smile sympathetically and give their condolences.

Since then he had stopped looking after himself, he could not sleep at night, and seemed to only manage a few hours sleep throughout the day. Because of that he found himself not eating at all. His psychological state was not fairing any better, his mind full of what ifs and playing out different situations where she lived or, more grimly, if she had taken the children that day.

He needed to stay strong, for them.

For her.

He ran a hand through his hair and picked the papers up from the table.

He didn't bother wiping his eyes, he knew there would be more tears to come.