Author's note: Hi guys, if you read my last fanfic, I swear this one will be much better. If you haven't, don't bother.

On to this fanfic; this is a rather mature fanfiction, with drama galore. I swear more characters appear later, but for now, there is this. I'll try to update every few days.

Disclaimer: unfortunately, I don't own Hetalia. *thinks of all the evil things she would make Arthur do to Alfred. Alfred sees thoughts, and immediately tries to hide his growing boner* sigh... unfortunately.

Warning: this is a mature fic that WILL mess with your feels and ships. Strong language and sexual themes are included.

Well, happy reading, and may the odds be ever in your favour.

Pain Is Love

"... I'm moving back to England." Arthur Kirkland announced, staring off in the distance and avoiding his long time best friend's gaze.

After a moments pause, Alfred Jones replied- "What?" Arthur sighed, then repeated himself.

"I am moving back to England." He finally looks at Alfred, whose blue eyes are wide and shimmer with unshed tears behind wire rimmed glasses. Alfred lunges forward and grabs his friend by his ever-present sweater vest.

"Why? You can't Artie! I'd miss you! Do you not like me anymore? Do you not wanna be my friend?" Arthur crumbles a bit at the kicked puppy look Alfred gives him.

"Al, you know that's not it. I would stay in America if I could but it's not my decision. Mum's still upset about Dad's death- I think everything around here reminds her of him. She has friends in England, and it wouldn't be all that hard to move. I do hate to leave you here though, you know you're my best mate." Alfred pulls him into an earth shattering hug, and Arthur feels his shoulder grow wet with Alfred's tears. Arthur wheezes in Alfred's strong grip, patting his head until he loosens up a bit.

"It's just," Alfred says, sniffling, "we were gonna be in fifth grade next year. We were finally gonna be the biggest kids at school." Alfred looks down at the ten year old in his arms. Arthur had always been small, but Alfred didn't care. To him it just made his friend even cuter. Of course, Arthur didn't know he felt that way. He had been planning to tell him that next year, but now-.

"There, there love. It's alright. We can write to one another after all."

Alfred sniffles some more, and hugs him tighter. "I'll miss you Artie.

Arthur smiles fondly at the blond male towering above him.

"I'll miss you too, Al.

Seven years later...

"OI!" Arthur looked behind him quickly. It would seem that the bartender had finally figured out who started this fight. Oops.

The bar around him was in chaos. It would seem that everyone had either left the bar or joined the fight that, by now, resembled a war. Arthur couldn't even remember what had started all this. In his current alcohol induced state, he could only remember that he had swung first, and thats all the burly bartender stomping towards him would care about.

Time to go.

Arthur quickly grabbed a bottle from a near-by table and smashed it and its contents over the head of the man currently pinning him to the ground. The man slumped over, unconscious, and Arthur quickly jumped up, maneuvering himself over to the stage while avoid flying fists. Grabbing his guitar and slinging it over his shoulder, he took a moment to thank whatever was out there that he had packed up his things immediately after he had played tonight. If he hadn't, he would probably have to leave behind many of his picks, music, cables, and what not. Fortunately he had decided to be semi responsible. Well, before getting drunk off his arse and starting yet another bar fight.

Arthur frowned as he rushed out the door, barely avoiding the grasping hands of the bartender. He would have to make it up to John some how. After all, they had a deal, but with his behavior tonight, the bar's owner was likely to be raging mad at him.

Again. Oops.

After running a good ways away, he slowed, breathing in the crisp night air steadily. He had had more experience with these things than most, and the results of such encounters as these showed in his corded arms and legs. Not that he was buff, he was rather more lean, but it hardly mattered. As long as it got him out of trouble, he was fine with the body he had.

Arthur frowned, readjusting the guitar on his back to a more comfortable position. It was only twelve o'clock; not exactly what one would normally call early, but still a time that Arthur was never home by. Arthur weighed his options. He could go home and risk his parents still being up, or he could try his luck at another bar, maybe find someone to spend the night with. However, he was underage, and as drunk and beat up as he was at the moment, he really didn't feel like trying his luck. Home it was then.

Arthur started down the road towards his parent's house, lighting a cigarette as he went. Even as fucked up as he was, if his parents were up, it wouldn't be enough.

Arthur stopped before his house, examining it as he gathered the courage to go in- courage being the last of his fag. Arthur inhaled deeply, blowing the smoke out at what was technically his house.

It was beat up, looking abandoned but for the sole light in the window. The door was slightly skewed, and the wood on the porch was rotting. The whole place looked perfect for a murder scene. Dead grass, cracked windows, and a noticeable lack of flowers only added to the haunted feel of the place.

Arthur scowled at the butt of his finally-gone cigarette, then stomped up the porch steps, throwing the door open with a muffled thump! Immediately he knew they were up.

Well, fuck.

He flicked his head to the side in a vain attempt to remove the hair from his eyes as he took in the heavy scent of beer that always seemed to accompany his step dad. Stalking into the living room, he found the man on their beat up couch guzzling can after can of the cheap liquor. Artur scowled in disgust at the man, then slowly crept around the back of the couch towards the stairs leading to his room. Reiner didn't seem to have noticed him yet, perhaps if he-

"Arthur?" Well, shit. Arthur turned to look at his mother, who was just emerging from the kitchen.

She was a tiny thing. Her face was gaunt- her clothes hung on her thin frame. Her face stood out in sharp relief. She blinked her dull green eyes, looking up at him. "Why're you home so late?" Arthur shot a quick glance back at the couch, where he noted with a sinking heart that he now had Reiner's attention.

Without taking his eyes off Reiner, Arthur answered his mother. "I was practicing with me mates mum, and we just ran a bit late today." his mom nodded slowly, blinking again. "Come on," Arthur told her, in the most soothing voice he could manage when he was this drunk. "Let's get you off to bed. It is dreadfully late you know." He mother nodded again, and Arthur helped her towards her bedroom, his eyes still locked with his step father's. His mother yawned as Arthur stood outside her bedroom. "Arthur?" Reluctantly, Arthur looked away from Reiner. He went into their bedroom, helping his mother into bed. "Arthur," she says again, causing Arthur to look up, fondness in his eyes. "Yes mum?" His mother snuggled down in the covers, and smiled up at him. "We're moving back into our old house in America." Arthur froze, his emerald green eyes meeting his mother's.

"What?"

His mother sighed happily, already drifting off. Soon she was fast asleep.

Arthur stood there a moment more, in shock. He knew his mother had never sold their old house. He didn't think she could bear to. But move back? After seven years?

A pain had started building in his head just thinking about it. Or maybe that was the alcohol wearing off. Either way, Arthur decided to leave the matter for the morning.

He slipped out his mom's room, closing the door quietly behind him. He had started up the stairs when a metal can hit him in the head.

Oh. Right. Reiner was up.

Arthur looked back at him, sneering and dodging another empty beer can. "What do you want, arsehole?" Reiner growled a bit at his boldness.

"It vould seem that you need to be taught anuder lesson, ja?" His thick German accent had been enhanced by the consumption of copious amounts of alcohol, making his words garbled and difficult to understand. The menacing look on his face as he tried to stand, however, was not hard to interpret. Perhaps if Arthur had not already been fighting tonight he would have confronted him. However, he ached all over, and his head now hurt like hell, so he bolted upstairs to his room and locked the door behind him. He sighed, then undressed and popped in the shower. Tomorrow morning was not going to be pleasant.

Time Skip

Arthur looked up at the house from his childhood, scarcely believing he was back. Memories welled up within him, memories of before his mother had married that bastard, before she had descended into this empty depression, before Arthur had started fighting, drinking, smoking, and generally destroying himself. Back when his brothers were still young enough to live with them.

Back when his father was still alive.

Arthur shook his head as he felt tears pricking the corners of his eyes. He hadn't cried in years, but this house was producing emotions within him that he hadn't felt in a while. Quickly he abandoned his line of thinking. If Reiner saw him crying he would get hit for sure. Best he just shove it down in some dark corner of his subconscious.

Arthur looked back at the delivery truck. He had been tasked with unloading their possessions and making the house habitable while his mum went to a job interview and Reiner sat in the kitchen drinking. Arthur decided he better get a move on before his "dad" tried to intervene.

Arthur sighed. This house really was ten times better than their old house. Sure it was a bit neglected from having been empty for four years, but it was still a nice house. Even so, Arthur knew he would spend little time here. The house held too many ghosts from his past, and too many monsters from his present for him to ever feel safe there.

Hey guys! Hope you enjoyed, next chapter opens with Alfred. Reviews feed my twisted fantasies! -THE LLAMA CHICK