Hello all! This is Angel, or Romanochi, or 88spades, as some of you may know me. Um…Ah, i don't really know what else to say so i'll get on with the story.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. If I did, the damned bloodbath would've updated by now and we wouldn't be stranded on an island.

ENJOY!

I don't think I deserve it

Selflessness

Find your way

Into my heart

All stars could be brighter

All hearts could be warmer

The light murmur of music ensued from a pair of sleek white earphones that were plugged into an iPod. The iPod, obviously of the latest generation, sat in the lap of a man casually dressed in a T-shirt and dark wash jeans. Oversized eyebrows furrowed together as he concentration on the he held open with his hands. All in all, it looked like a considerably normal scene. The man, who could be any age between 20 and 27, had messy blonde hair and green eyes that seemed to be constantly changing shade. The only thing strange about him was his abnormally large eyebrows. On the other hand, what was strange was his surroundings. The room was a complete devoid of white, as was the bed he was sitting cross-legged on. It was sparsely furnished with only one chair, a desk, and aTV which was securely nailed up a ceiling corner. The single window int he room was a small long rectangle, barred and placed beyond his reach. The shock of sunlight and blue sky that peeked though the glass seemed to dim everything in comparison.

It looked a bit lonely

But then again, that was the point. Having tried suicide three times and failed all three times gave you a free pass into a hospital, institution or house arrest. He'd gotten used to it now, being alone and kept away for his own good. The three scars that outwardly marked his attempts were actually quite visible. The first was a silvery line across his wrist. The second was a gash across his throat. That one had been a particularly hard to get over. And the third and latest scar, a jagged line that ran vertically along his abdomen, from where he had stabbed himself. He was grateful that many would not see that one because it was definitely the worst and ugliest scar he had ever seen. But he had felt ugly at that time too and it was actually quite fitting. As a child, Arthur Kirkland may have been one of the happiest children on the face of the planet. He was too young, too care free, and too innocent to actually understand what the world was like. But as he got older, the burden of life settled down around him. He learned how to hate, and how to feel others' hatred. He learned that love was not a miracle and that love would never save anything.

So he gave up.

And yet, life still managed to cling to him, to fill him with the barest hint of hope, that he would find a purpose in this world and find a miracle in love. But love was the reason why he had been placed in the hospital in the first place. The parental love his parents had, somewhere very very deep inside them, had told them that the burden of keeping him alive was too much. It was the love that weighed them down. So love was the answer. It was the reason. It was the fault. It was ironically painful, and he thought so as he looked up from his book to the window that lead outside. He couldn't remember the last time he had been free of the blank off-whiteness or when he had had the freedom to wander on his own. Emerald eyes softened with longing. But even he himself didn't know what he was longing for. There was no place for him out in that world. He was no longer suicidal, not by a long shot, but he still saw to reason to live. He simply did not have the will to. He lived only because of that one single hope inside him. That was it, the reason that summed up his entire miserable existence. Arthur looked up as there was a quick knock before the door to his room opened. A nurse walked in to take his daily heart rate and his bodily stats, just to make sure that he hadn't tried anything. Arthur sighed and set aside his book. The people at the hospital were very thorough, as he had noticed in the past 6 years he had been coming here and the past near 2 years he had been fully admitted to it. Once it was confirmed that he was doing fine, the nurse smiled and motioned for him to follow her.

"Doctor Alaric would like to see you in his office" she said pleasantly as Arthur curiously got up from his bed and stepped into his shoes.

Why would the doctor ask for him? The only reason he ever went to see him was for strictly medical reasons and the Brit had not heard of anything wrong in the past few days. And the Doctor always gave prior notice. The nurse lead Arthur down the long tiled hall ways of the hospital until they came to the front of a door, only a vertically turned rectangle offering any view into the office. Doctor Alaric, a tall stoic German with long blonde hair kept loose, saw them through the glass and waved at them to come in. The nurse slid the door open and allowed Arthur to enter first. Arthur padded into the office, which was decorated with certificates and degrees and whatnot, sitting in the chair placed before the wooden desk. The Doctor offered a nod in greeting and folded his hands in front of him. Arthur blinked calmly, telling the Doctor to continue in whatever business he had called the Brit on to conduct. The Doctor cleared his throat once before speaking.

"As you know, Mr. Kirkland" he started "It's almost been two years since you've come to stay with us."

Arthur nodded "Yes, it has" he replied.

"Well, you've improved considerably and since your parents have agreed to allow us to make all decisions considering your well-being, we think that it's about time you starting…how do you young ones say it these days, 'get around'?"

Arthur frowned slightly at the barest mention of his parents but as he understood what the Doctor was saying, his face was completely wiped blank. Get around? As in leave the hospital? The blonde leaned forwards as if not having heard correctly.

"Um, Doctor" he said "You mean, that i should, or rather, can leave the hospital now?"

Alaric smiled a little. It was amusing at how Arthur was so incredibly skeptical. The young man hadn't been out in ages and he wondered how it felt to be trapped inside at such a young age. Alaric was also a bit saddened at the fact that Arthur couldn't really fathom the fact that he was free. he was so used to being kept inside that he'd almost lost the taste of what life used to be. But then again, Arthurs life before had been a sad sad thing to know about. Sometimes, being a doctor was a terrible thing, Alaric thought to himself as he nodded. Arthur's eyes widened as his face lit up a little, though still a little wary.

"When?" he said, asking the simple questions that all patients asked.

The hope in the Brit's eyes reminded Alaric that that was the reason why he was a doctor. To see those almost invisible shards of hope and to know that he had done something to bring back at least a little bit of the life that still resided in his patients.

"Tomorrow, if you wish" he replied, handing over the papers that would completely allow Arthur to leave.

The next morning Arthur got dressed, washed up, and immediately left the hospital without even notifying the staff. He had no clue what he was doing or where he was going, but he did know that he had to just get out of the hospital. Anywhere but the place where he had spent the past two years of his life. As the Brit left through the automatic doors of the hospital, he found that he was near the busy shopping district of the city. It was almost painful, suddenly being in a new surrounding. It saddened him, how he couldn't even feel like a normal person where he had once lived, walked, and breathed. Things had changed in the time he had spent away from the outside world. While he was frozen in time, inside his own thoughts, the world had moved on without him, not caring if he was left behind. The realization that he couldn't be the same as he thought he could hit him hard. Suddenly, there was nothing more he wanted to do but to go back inside the hospital and lock himself up in his room.

'Damn, coward' he told himself 'Why am i such a damned coward'

And so he took a deep breath, cautiously stepping out. He found that the more he walked, the more he got used to walking on anything other than cold white tiles. He also found that he was virtually being ignored, nothing more than bother person. It was lonely, as usual, but that was no surprise. Loneliness seemed to follow him around like a lost puppy, waiting to be kicked away only to come back again. Arthur walked around aimlessly, trying to calm himself down. He was dressed casually in a pair of his usual dark wash jeans, a printed white T-shirt and a black jacket over it all. It was strange being outside after so long, the sudden brightness of the colors and the sharp human presence that surrounded him being a bit uncomfortable. He felt so out of place. While those around him walked with confident strides of purpose, he simply wandered. Eventually, he found a nice cafe and sat down with a drink, feeling considerably more relaxed. After all, those who couldn't 'do', watched. And so he did. People-watching had always been a favorite past-time of his, even before he'd, well, been confined. Just watching how other interacted, how they moved, how their body language told more than their words ever could, intrigued him. It never got boring either, because no matter how long or how hard he looked, he never really understood them. He was absentmindedly stirring his tea, submersed in his own thoughts, when the eerily familiar rustle of expensive clothing brought him back to reality.

"Mon dieu…." a voice breathed in smooth French "…if it isn't Angleterre."

Arthur sighed and looked up, setting his spoon down with a gentle clink.

"Hello, frog. What do you want?" he said in a clipped tone.

The man, a at all blonde with crystalline blue eyes, slid into the seat across from Arthur. He was dressed in a pair of fitting black jeans, a pink T-shirt with splattered graphics, and a black jacket adorned with silver buckles and all sort of other things rolled up to his elbows. The entire outfit, including the boots, reeked of designer brands.

'As per usual, Francis' Arthur thought wryly.

"What do i want?" the French man asked, throwing his hands up in exasperation "Dieu, Arthur. It's been what, over a year since anyone has seen you out?"

"A year and 8 months" he replied, lifting the cup to his lips and taking a sip.

Francis rolled his eyes at the Englishman's precision as he quietly slid a hand under the table. Arthur's eye narrowed as he set down his cup and tried to kick Francis' hands away.

"Oh bloody fucking hell you don't!" he yelled, finally managing to connect his foot with the back of the blonde's hand.

Francis chuckled as he quickly withdrew before any serious damage could be done, his hand already turning pink form the kick that Arthur had landed.

"Just wondering if you remembered" he said lightly, laughter clear in his eyes as well as the barest hint of relief.

Although the two of them had fought since they had first met as children, he had to admit that they were somewhat friends. Of the rival variety, but still, friends. He was relieved to find that Arthur still had the life in him to fight back as he always had. The last he had seen of Arthur wasn't even really Arthur. It seemed to have been an empty shell of him, someone who only saw inside himself rather that outside at everyone else. That had worried everyone. Friends and family both. Arthur was still recovering from Francis' 'welcome back' attack as he shot a response to the Frenchman's comment.

"For the love of God, what am i supposed to forget? That you grope everything and anything that falls in your line of sight?" he said, shooting him an apprehensive look.

"Shh" Francis replied jokingly putting a finger to his lips "Don't' be so loud, you'll scare away the ladies!"

Arthur groaned and let his head fall into his hands. He really wondered how he put up with the man in the first place. And it was just sheer bad lick that the first person he had to come across since he'd left the hospital was him. A waitress came by and Francis ordered some food, trying to catch a glimpse up her skirt. It was virtually impossible but Arthur wouldn't put it past him to find a way. As Francis accomplished his mission and turned his attention back to Arthur, the slow oozing of a saxophone erupted, shattering the air. Francis jumped a little but put a hand up and pulled out a sleek black phone from his pocket, turning slightly away as he took the call.

"Oui?" he said into the phone, waiting for an answer "Ah, Gilbert!….oui….Antonio?…hm….Oh, i'm with Angleterre right now….oui, of course i'm not like you tête de merde….okay…"

He turned back to Arthur who had been listening in on half the conversation. The names Gilbert and Antonio piqued his interest, bringing memories of churros, beer, and some really bad parties to the surface of his mind. He cringed a little as a particularly bad incident was brought to mind. Francis leaned slightly over the table.

"Arthur, you do remember Gilbert and Antonio, don't you?" he asked, covering the mouth piece of the phone with one hand.

"Of course i do!" the Brit replied, a little offended that the Frenchman thought he could've forgotten that much over the span of a year.

"Well…they're on their way…" Francis continued slowly "…and they're bringing company."

"Oh blood hell they are" Arthur said tiredly.

It had only been and hour or two and he had already gotten himself in to this big damned mess. He hadn't really been expecting to run into so many people and he swore that the more people he got involved with, the more drama that would occur. He'd wanted to keep this first day out quiet and peaceful but then again, when did he ever get his way? He couldn't even die. Francis' blue eyes seemed to be asking Arthur for permission and Arthur merely nodded. After all, gentlemen didn't turn down such invitations. Francis lit up considerably and turned back to the phone, rambling off in a mixture of French and English. Maybe some heavily accented German in there too. Arthur waved for a waiter as he waited for Francis to finish the call. This was going to take a lot of tea. A whole bloody mess of tea. Just as the waiter left, Francis hung up and tucked the phone back into his pocket.

"You haven't seen any of them have you? Gilbert or Antonio or Ludwig?" he said.

"No" Arthur replied calmly "You, unfortunately, are the first person i know that i've met"

Francis smiled smugly, his ego obviously shooting up a thousand miles. He attempted to fill Arthur in on the 1 year time skip but apparently a lot had happened. Too much for Francis to properly explain and too much for Arthur to bother listening in on. He'd get the hang of it eventually. Or at least, that's what Francis said as he gave up, chuckling. Arthur noted that Francis had changed a little since he had last seen him. He seemed…happier, if so to speak. But then again, when he had last seen the people he had remotely known or been close to, all of them, including him, hadn't been in the best of spirits. The two made small talk, moving on easily from one topic to another. Who had graduated, who had gotten engaged, who had broken up, and so on. Arthur actually enjoyed just talking about random subjects when Francis wasn't attempting to rape him, or anyone else for that matter. He was enjoying the time before the others got there, like the calm before the storm tough he had nothing wrong with them, being friends with both Gilbert and Antonio and actually looked forwards to seeing them. Francis was in the middle of explaining how Vash, a Swiss friend of theirs and someone Arthur knew, was about to ask his stepsister Lili, an adopted girl from Liechtenstein, to marry him, when he caught sight of something behind Arthur. The Brit turned around in his seat to see a group of people walking towards them. It was lead by two distinct figures. One of them stood out sharply, his bright silver hair reflecting off his pale pale skin. Blood red eyes peered from behind bangs as the mischievous grin he wore widened. Arthur smiled a little, unable to forget Gilbert's strange appearance. Most people may have been ashamed or scared but the self proclaimed Prussian bore his difference around with pride. That gained a good portion of Arthur's respect, as the 'awesome' man never seemed to be deterred by his condition. At his side was a man who was virtually his opposite. With eternally messy deep brown locks and trademark emerald eyes, Antonio contrasted starkly with his friend. His tan skin gave off a mysterious glow and the good natured smile that graced his lips only seemed to strengthen the sunny aura that radiated around him. Arthur supposed the Spaniard was a pure epitome of sunlight and happiness, even if it was faked at times. The people around him couldn't really help but be happy. The two, plus Francis, were known throughout high school and college as the 'Eternal Trio'. All of their personalities clashed dangerously. Gilbert was pegged as the mischievous but good natured prankster, Antonio as the sunny pretty boy, and Francis as the charming pervert. And all of them were playboys. Everyone simply supposed that though they were total opposites, their one similarity brought them together long enough to cultivate a close friendship. Francis stood up from his seat and waved to the other 2/3 of the trio as well as the people behind them. Arthur only recognized one of them. The tall figure on Gilbert's other side was Ludwig, his brother. He was the stern anchor that grounded Gilbert to reality and sensibility. Otherwise, he would have flown off to some other fantasy world long ago. Blonde and blue eyed, Ludwig didn't even look like his brother, much less look like the younger one of the two. The 4 men who walked behind them were virtually unknown to Arthur. As they reached the cafe, Francis gave the two bro hugs and offered his greetings to the others.

"Artie!" Gilbert yelled as he threw his arms around the Brit. "Mein gott, why the hell have you not been out here? You missed all the fun!"

Arthur couldn't help but laugh a little, though he was a bit pissed at the sudden hug attack. He'd never really been a touchy feely, hug type of person to begin with. He gave the Prussian a quick pat on the back before releasing him.

"Nice to see you again, Gilbert" he said.

Gilbert cackled as Antonio shoved him out of the way, holding his arms out. The Spaniard looked at Arthur with matching green eyes full of well meant greeting.

"Come on, come give your amigo a hug, Inglaterra" the Spaniard demanded.

Arthur obliged and 'bro hugged' Antonio. They exchanged some news between each other, Gilbert and Antonio being strangely enthusiastic, until a slight cough interrupted their conversation. Antonio looked over and his eyes lit up. He pulled one of the four other men to his side.

"Arthur, this is Lovino Vargas!" he said in quick introduction. " He is la amor de mi vida! Say hi Lovi!"

Lovino, who was quite obviously an Italian, punched the Spaniard in the arm, scowling and flushing at the same time. Antonio laughed, clearly used to Lovino's reactions.

"Chigi! Don't call me that, idiota!" he hissed defensively as he tried to escape Antonio's arms.

Then he turned to Arthur, who was recovering from slight shock, and stuck out his hand, becoming very business like.

"Like he said, I'm Lovino Vargas." he said, his amber eyes flaring "Nice to meet you"

"Ah…nice to meet you as well" Arthur replied, shaking the Italian's hand firmly.

Lovino turned around and grabbed the wrist of the dazed young man who had been staring up at the sky. The man snapped out of his thoughts and stumbled slightly as he came to a stop before the Englishman.

"And this is my brother" Lovino concluded.

"Ve, I'm Feliciano Vargas!" the man said in a innocently sweet voice "It's a pleasure to meet you!"

Arthur shook his hand as well, and suddenly it was very clear that the two were related. Both had auburn hair with a stray curl and amber eyes that differed in shade depending on their moods. Both were of similar stature, lean and well muscled though not completely ripped, but that's pretty much where all the similarities ended. Their personalities, very much like Ludwig and Gilbert, were totally different. Feliciano was obviously a ditz of insane proportions and Lovino was undeniably defensive if not a little sheltered. Not unlike himself, Arthur thought. Lovino scowled as Antonio messed with him and Feliciano egged him on, only flustering Lovino even more. It was obvious that all three were close with one another and Arthur wondered why groups of friends always came in sets of three. The remaining two men, actually more like teens, Francis brought up. At first glance, it was obvious that they were twins. The first one was shy kid with slightly wavy blonde locks, one strand gently curling, and startling eyes that seemed to waver between shades of violet and blue. He wore wire rimmed glasses that perched delicately on the slope of his nose. He gave a slight wave as Francis pulled him up.

"Angleterre" Francis said, planting the boy firmly before him "This is Mathieu, Mattie, this is my friend, Arthur Kirkland"

Arthur snorted when being referred as Francis' friend but he nodded, smiling a little. The boy was obviously one of those quiet types, shy to a fault and timid but gentle.

"I'm Matthew Williams" he said offering a sweet smile "I've heard a lot about you"

Arthur shook his hand firmly, trying to get the boy to be comfortable around him. The Englishman hated it when there was someone else but him being awkward, because one awkward person was obviously enough. He wondered where the boy had heard of him thought, considering he had totally been missing in action for over a year. He seriously hoped that Francis hadn't told him much, especially anything that involved alcohol. Mat turned around and the other twin walked up before Francis could officially introduce him. He was distinctly different from his twin, with shorter cut hair and clear cerulean eyes. A few strands of hair stuck up in an odd little cow-lick and his glasses, which were more square shaped than his brother's were slightly smudged. He wore a leather jacket that was clearly WWII era with a large 50 emblazoned on the back. While Mat had a gentle air of timid intelligence around him, this twin had a stronger sharper presence. He stuck out his hand, accompanied by a grin that probably could have blinded anyone in a 10 foot radius.

"I'm Alfred F. Jones!" he said in a firm but energetic voice "Nice to meet you!"

Arthur raised his eyebrows and shook his hand almost delicately. Well, this was certainly a change. Alfred was almost like Gilbert but obviously a home grown American. Speaking of which, he wondered why Mat and Alfred had different last names, when they were obviously twins.

"Nice to meet you as well, Alfred" Arthur replied a bit skeptically.

Alfred practically radiated confidence and it totally baffled the Brit. The positive air around him clashed almost painfully with everyone else. The others were clearly used to his seemingly bottomless stock of energy as Gilbert and Antonio called the twins over. Alfred gave a quick wave and a final smile to Arthur before running off to join the Prussian and the Spaniard in shooting spit balls out of multicolored straws. Mat smiled and ducked apologetically, going to keep his brother in check. At his side, Francis chuckled deeply.

"They're only 19" he said conspiratorially "Sophomores now, i think"

"Oh" Arthur replied, not really sure what to say, considering that he, Gilbert, Antonio, and Francis were all 25 or 26, depending on birthdays.

Francis laughed at the Brit's non responsive answer and gave him a quick pat on the shoulder as he began to make his way towards the group.

"Still the same as ever, i see" the Frenchman said to his friend, talking over his back.

Arthur frowned and shrugged. The blonde went over to the group and immediately slid his arm around Mat's waist. The younger twin squeaked a little, flushing as Gilbert and Alfred both lunged for him, creating a space between the two. Alfred, obviously because he was protecting his twin, and Gilbert, for unknown reason. Maybe because it was just fun to mess with Francis. They three started yelling at each other good naturally and Antonio joined in to make peace. The Spaniard just ended up getting dragged in tot he whole mess and in the process, drags Lovino and Feli along. Arthur hung back a little, wondering if he should go join them. They had once been his friends and were no doubt still but even then, the aura that surrounded them held him back. Watching them from a far, it made them look like a painted picture. One like those Arthur's mother used to hang up in the halls of their houses or in his father's office. It seemed all surreal just as those paintings had, mere representations of what could be. And it did make such a pretty picture. Arthur only wished that it was real.

A/N: So, please, I'd love your feedback on this! It's um, a kind of a weird subject for me to write on, but I really do love writing it. You may be wondering why, if Iggy is so damned suicidal, he's not totally angst and all 'THE WORLD HATES ME'. I like to think of him as a suicide victim who is no longer looking to kill himself, but has just simply lost the will to live. Which, to me, seems worse that trying to kill yourself in a fit of depressed sentiments.

Alaric is obviously Germania (don't ask where i got the name from)

TRANSLATIONS

La amor de mi vida (Spanish)- the love of my life

Tete de merge (French)- Shit head

So, PLEASE REVIEW, and I'll see if i need to post another chappie