Story: To Those Who Aren't Perfect
Summary: Arthur, a prostitute with a troubled past full of pain. Alfred, a college freshman with a perfect life who has everything right there for him. When these two meet, what could they possibly have in common? USUK, AU, human names.
EDIT 11/27/12: Okay so yada yada yada this chapter is changed from what it used to be but almost the same, also the name of the fanfiction has changed from "Blood on My Windowsill" to "To Those Who Aren't Perfect" Just a note, I didn't edit the second chapter, so it still reads Blood on My Windowsill, it's the same story, there's no mistake made there.
Disclaimer: I will never own Hetalia.
A/N: This chapter is all about Arthur, Enjoy~
Chapter 1: Arthur
The rain fell from the sky like the floodgates of heaven had opened. The falling water hit the concrete with a strong force. In shabby apartment building, on the 6th floor, if one were to look up, they would have seen Arthur Kirkland.
The blonde watched out of the foggy window as people hurried by with umbrellas and hats because of the rain. The rain slid down the window and he heard it hit the ground. Drip...drop...drip...drop.
He sat in a chair with his knees to his chin, clutching the locket he held most dear, wishing he could trade lives with one person down there...just to feel he had a reason to try for life.
Arthur kept his face to the window and continued watching the rain and people who were bustling around in it.
He hugged his knees tighter, as a child who is afraid of the dark would. How'd he get this life? What'd he ever done to be treated like garbage by everyone
Arthur felt his stomach churn as his own voice in his head whispered, "Well aren't you a worthless one?"
Arthur then closed his eyes to try to subdue the queasy feeling coming over him. God how was it possible to hate oneself so? To hate others, the world? How could someone, anyone hate everything so much?
Well, maybe not hate. But definitely mistrusting of the world. How had he become this way? How'd the young Brit become such a bitter, jaded, and untrusting being? He gave a half-hearted chuckle to himself. Who was he kidding? Of course he knew.
Arthur heard the doctor say something about his mother and "childbirth complications" and "Death".
Arthur watched his father begin crying. Why was he crying? Arthur's father never cried. Wasn't today supposed to be happy?
He was given his mother's locket holding a picture of himself and his father by one of the nurses. Why on earth was he getting this? His mother loved this picture...
Arthur didn't know at the time, but his mother had died while giving birth to his younger brother, Peter.
Arthur's father drank...all the time now. After Peter was born, he had changed. He became violent more and hurt Arthur and occasionally even Peter.
As the two brothers got older, their father became more and more violent, hitting and abusing Peter the most. Their father blamed Peter for their mother's death.
And as Peter was hit and abused, Arthur never did anything about it but sit back and ignore it.
As the days grew longer, and as Arthur climbed into his pre-teen age, he began getting in trouble more, getting failing grades, and skipping classes to go do things like drink and smoke with his "friends".
Arthur was abused more during these times. His father, in his alcoholic mind-set said it was discipline, but in reality it was abuse. There was no other word for it.
Their father was gone. One day he just said to Arthur, "I'll be back..." and he never came home.
This was the time for Arthur when the piercings, drugs, and sex began.
Peter hated him. He wouldn't even talk to Arthur anymore...they might as well have been strangers.
No matter where he went anymore, people looked at the older Kirkland boy as if he were an outsider, a freak. He tried his best to look rebellious, to stand out in a way. The sleeveless tees, the tattoos, the nose and eyebrow piercings. He stood out alright. He liked it. He liked all of the onlookers who disapproved of his style. The eighteen year old was quite proud of his fashion statement.
Unfortunately for him, though he thought standing out was good at the time, Arthur stood out to the wrong people.
"I hate you and I hope you die in the streets where you belong, you bastard!"
Those had been Peter's last words to him before he left. Peter was four years younger than Arthur, but he acted so much older and mature.
Even if the two of them weren't close, those words hurt Arthur. He acted like he didn't care, kept a straight face the whole time as his someone else left him, But hearing it from his only brother...made him feel more alone then he'd ever felt.
And here he was now...pretty much drowning himself in his own pains. Living in an old apartment building around hoes, pimps, lowlifes, scum, criminals...the like.
But was he so different from them? No. Not really. In fact, he was one of them.
He gave an audible, bitter chuckle to himself. 'Mother would roll over in her grave if she saw me now...'
But there was one good thing he could remember from his childhood...he had one friend. A boy who's face he could never remember...the only person who'd ever been nice to him. His only friend...Even though they weren't exactly "close" it was the closest to a friend the Brit had ever had.
And he'd never see that person ever again was the worst part.
As he continued staring absent-mindedly out the window, he began thinking to himself, "What would happen if I were to die?"
'No one would care. In fact, no one would probably even know I was missing!'
He knitted his eyebrows in thought. 'I'm just a nobody anyway...somebody who's just a burden to the whole human race...No one would cry if I was gone...No one would come to my funeral.'
"No one would care."
A/N: Questions? Comments? Review please and tell me what you think! ^^ The more reviews I have, the more motivated I am. :3 And the italicized parts are all memories. And yes I know it's short. :/ It's kind of like a prologue...sooo...yeah. Thanks for reading!
Next chapter: Alfred