Hi guys! First fanfic here. I hope you enjoy.

Summary:

Arthur Kirkland was a regular 16 year old. He behaved and got good grades. For him, life in England was normal. Which is exactly why he is shocked beyond belief when his mother suggests a move across the country. This involes a new school friends and Alfred F. Jones. For Arthur Kirkland, this is a fresh start.

UsUk Shipping.

Chapter 1:

For Arthur Kirkland, this is a fresh start. That's what he tells himself anyway, whilst sitting in the front passenger seat of a volvo car. This is one is a shimmering grey, just like the sky above. It had been like that since last week, when his mother had broken the dreadful news. He could still feel the tremors of horror that ran inside his body. It was also the night he came out.

*Flashback*

Arthur was currently cleaning up after dinner, a delightfully small meal consisting of lasagna that he painfully prepared, reading the instructions several times. For once, his normally horrid cooking came out okay. He had a big plan for tonight. Hopefully, his mother wouldn't mind. It's not like he could help his situation. As he scrubbed the dish he used to bake their dinner in (one damn stain just wouldn't come off), his mind took him to different scenarios.

His plan could fail horribly, and his mom could end up hating him. He bit his lip at that. As much as he gated his everyday life, the constant bullying and teasing from (now former) bullies, he treasured his mother deeply. Could he handle losing his loving, caring and patient mother? he didn't think so.

"Arthur?" his mother's voice spoke. she was a tall woman with high cheekbones and ridiculously long hair that was well kept. Her eyes were blue, unlike that of Arthurs, which were a a emerald green. Her hair was also a shade of deep blonde, again, unlike Arthurs which were a straw blond.

"We have to talk." For a moment, his heart stopped. His mind turned to the worst cases, a heart breaking image of his mother finding out his secret and hating him. He numbly followed his mother lead and sat on the worn green living room couch.

"Y-yes mother?" He cursed himself internally for stuttering. Daring a glance at his mother, he spotted a brief glance at her face; one that contained worry for him.

"There is no easy way to do this, Arthur." She spoke softly, her voice reassuring.

"We're moving Arthur. Moving to York." She said, awaiting his reaction.

"Moving? To York?" He stuttered and gathered his wits. The news both thrilled and angered him. He was glad that bullies would cease to exist but what about his friends?

Did he even have any? Sure there was several people that talked to him, but none had even talked to him outside of forced pair work.

"That's fantastic!" He cheered and hugged his mom, trying to convey fake enthusiasm. Something didn't sit right with him, but he didn't let it show.

*end of Flashback*

"-thur. Arthur!" his mother shouted.

"What?" he turned to look at her.

Then, she spoke the words he dreaded.

"We're here."

The hou- flat was small. It contained 2 bedrooms (one barely bigger than a store cupboard) a barely functioning bathroom, moderately sized living room and kitchen. The walls were a stark white colour, which reassembled more 'mental institution' rather than 'new home'.

It annoyed him to no end. Glancing helplessly at his mother, he gave her the most encouragingl smile he could possible muster at that moment. Once he received clear instructions on which room was his, he set off and unpacked in the small space.

His bed and wardrobe had already arrived in pieces and he spent most of the day trying to put them together.

Later that night, as he drew his light green covers around him, he sighed regretfully. At least, he hoped, the new school would be better.

next week*

After a week of catching up on homework from his old school, (a pointless feat, seeing as he wasn't going to turn in it), he ironed his outfit for the next day. Seeing as the school didn't have a uniform- one of only select few British schools- he put together an oversized shirt and trousers with trainers. The shirt, was his favourite and looked like someone had slipped a short sleeved t-shirt over a long sleeved shirt. The long sleeves were red, whilst the chest and back of the shirt were a stark white. It matched nicely with his black trousers and -dare he say- black square frames. The whole outfit made him seem small and fragile, shy and loveable. Not to mention his -only sight (he claimed) - shorter than normal figure.

Once he ironed his clothes crisply, he repacked and packed his bag several time -in the order of; textbooks, pens, paper, water bottle, gym kit. Bottom to top.- after a while he gave in and fell asleep, setting his alarm for 7 a.m.