"Hey! Hey Artie! Tell me who you like!"

There it was again. Arthur had only admitted yesterday to the bright-eyed teen that he had his eye on someone, but since then, he had heard of little else.

"Absolutely not! It's none of your business." Arthur turned away indignantly. His blonde hair hanging in front of his eyes, concealing any traces of emotion that could have been read.

"Is it Kiku?" Alfred face lit up, as though he was sure he had finally cracked the case.

Arthur laughed at the very thought "Of course not, you daft little American! Kiku's my best friend. Liking him would be similar to liking my little brothers."

"Alright, then who is it?"

"I am not bloody telling you! Now drop it."

"Pleaaase? Come on, Artie! I told you who I liked!"

Suddenly, Arthur felt a wave of grief rush over him. "T-thats exactly why I can't tell you! NOW DROP IT." Arthur turned away, and started to run. He guessed it was obvious now. Because the truth was, the one he was in love with, was no other than the idiot who'd been bugging him all day. Alfred F. Jones.

In Arthur's mind, Alfred was the best thing to appear on the planet. Not only was he the most attractive man Arthur had ever met but he also had a personality that made the boy go weak at the knees. He was charming, playful, kind, childish, impulsive and oblivious... okay, so maybe Arthur had weird taste. He was still the boy of his dreams... There was one problem though... Alfred didn't feel the same. A couple of days before, he had confided in Arthur...

"Hey Artie... I-I think I am in love with Ivan."

"O-oh... is that so?"

"Yeah... and he kinda found out..."

"Oh. I see."

"Yeah... Things got a bit awkward. But he didn't turn me down, so..."

That night, Arthur cried out little streams of emotion, like snowmelt during a unsually warm Febuary. Little did he know, that was just the start. Shedding tears would soon become a daily occurence, leaving Arthur to feel weak and alone.

Now, here he was, running through the halls of their school, trying to escape the gorgeous sapphire gaze that had been trying to "stare into Artie's soul" (as the american so eloquently put it) and discover the secret that could very well destroy the friendship that had only barely begun a couple of months ago. Arthur quickly grabbed his books out of his locker, and ran out of the school, jumping on his bike and pedaling home before the American could dare follow.

When he got home, he nodded a quick greeting to his mother, who was making a fresh batch of scones, before running upstairs to change out of his uniform. Once he had finally reached his room, the next wave of tears attempted to escape the confines of his heart.

"Oh, bloody hell," he whispered to himself, holding them back as he grabbed a soft, British flag shirt and a pair of plaid pants from his closet, before deciding a shower sound unbelievably lovely and headed downstairs once more.

The hot water felt amazing as it rolled down his pale body, taking with it all his tension and allowing him to release all the pent up emotion boiling inside him. He felt so ridiculous. He used to make fun of people who cried in the shower over rejections from boys. He was such a bloody hippocrite.

His lovely emotional shower was interrupted by a loud buzzing coming from his pant pocket, laying on the floor of the bathroom. He ignored it at first, but it kept going off until he finally got out of the shower, and grabbed his phone.

Five New Text Messages from Alfred BloodyIdiot Jones

"God Dammit, I should have known." He opened the first four messages, one by one and was surprised by any of them.

1. who do u like artie

2. please tell meeeeeeeee

3. arent we friends?

4. o come on just fucking tell me already

"Of course. He didn't even bother with proper punctuation, capitalization or spelling. The idiot."

Arthur opened the last one, expecting a "I'll take you to Mcdonalds if you tell me" or "Tell me or I won't talk to you anymore", but what he found instead, literally made him drop his phone.

5. Is it me?