So, I was talking to one of my best friends. He is awesome. I love'em, and we love to mess around and joke. We were talking about Hetalia and all of a sudden I got this really cool idea, and I was on a roll. Then, I facking forgot it! Pfft. Wow. So, instead, I'm writing this shit. Meh.

Reviews are appreciated.

SUMMARY: A lot of times we hide behind a smile. We think no one will ever understand our pain, but there's a someone out there for everyone. Whether or not we accept them is completely up to us. Jock!Alfred x Punk!Arthur. High School AU!

READ! READ! PLEASE READ: In this chapter I will show you Artie and Alfred's lives in a summary as if they are telling you, and an introduction to the story. The actual story depends on this chapter so please read it. This is basically the information chapter.

Arthur Kirkland

I remember when I was little. My mum would kiss my forehead and tuck me in while she would sing a lullaby. I always smiled back then, and my grades in school weren't half that bad either. I dressed as nice as a kid could, and took everything seriously. I enjoyed life. Everything about life was perfect to me, but all good things come to an end. My mum died when I was seven years old.

Everything after my mums death happened too quickly. My father became a drunk. Every night it was constant whiskey bottles and rum bottles hitting the walls or floor. If I was lucky, he would go to the bar instead of staying at the house. If not, he would usually end up getting drunk enough to beat me. He would blame me for taking all his wifes time from him when he was the one to blame. He always worked too much.

Of course, no one wanted a drunk to work for them. My father was fired a year and a half after my mums death. He blamed me for that too. I was blamed for everything. Each night, unless he was out, would be a constant beating. I would sometimes be drugged, and then he would force me to work and clean. I would be left alone sometime in the early morning, and would run straight to my room.

If it wasn't my father, it was my brothers. I don't understand why they weren't treated the same way I was. My father had a favorite, Allistor, he was my oldest brother. He was the favorite because he was just like my father. He got drunk every chance he could, and threw a couple punches at me every now and then. Thank god he went off to college.

After Allistor went off to college, it was Conner who was second oldest. Conner was okay I guess. He usually kept to himself, and was very blunt. He had a piercing and one tattoo, but that happened when he was younger. He would usually keep them covered. He didn't physically abuse me, but instead went for mental abuse. The teasing never ended.

William was the third oldest in the family. He was my favorite sibling out of all of them. He could be a bit weird though. He had an obsession with his sheep, Re'annann, and a very squeaky voice. He did not drink or have any body art, but he had a mean temper when he wanted. William and I were nuetral if I had to judge our relations.

Then there's me, the youngest...

I think when one person is told they were the problem so many times, they start to believe it. I believe it anyways. I'm sixteen now, and look what I've become. I smoke. I drink when I can. I have a tattoo and a piercing or two. I am Arthur Kirkland. I am a punk.

0000

Alfred F. Jones

I remember when I was little. My mom would hold me and rock me till I fell asleep. My dad would read me stories too. Every night was like that till I grew older. My dad worked a lot and still does, but he makes time for me. My mom stays at home most of the time, and takes care of my brother and me. I like it this way.

It has always been this way ever since I was little. We live in the country side of town, and have a couple horses too. My younger brother, Matthew, and I like to have horse races a lot. When we aren't racing, I'm usually out tossing a football with my dad or helping mom cook. I do have to admit, Matthew does cook just a bit better than I do.

Matthew was born two years after I was, and we've stuck together ever since. We take care of each other, and love each others company. I'm glad I didn't get stcuk with an annoying sibling. Matthew is quiet, and doesn't like to speak up unless necessary. I don't really mind people who talk a lot, like myself, but I don't enjoy siblings who ramble on about their whole day and the drama that happens. Then they expect you to solve all their problems! Yeah, I am very happy Matt isn't that way.

Back to me! Life was and still is good. I'm the star quarterback at my high school, and one of the most popular kids! Cheerleaders dudes, it's all about the cheerleaders. My grades are okay, and I'm doing well. Senior year has just began and I bet you more than half the school is already going to vote for me as prom king.

When you have had an awesome life so far, it's hard to believe you wouldn't continue to have that. I'm sixteen and already so succesful. In school that is. I'm Alfred F. Jones. I'm the hero, and the star jock of Hetalia High School. HHS, byatches!

0000

Some people take longer to accept people than other people. Some people have an easier time accepting people than others. Whether or not they make the right choice is their fault. Sometimes I ask myself if I made the right choice, but I have yet to know...

0000

A loud pounding sound sounded throughout the house of Arthur Kirkland on this particular morning. Usually, it was a yell. Today, it was a knocking noise. Arthur slowly opened his eyes and looked around his old, small room. It wasn't much of a sight. There was a closet and desk and that's all Arthur really needed. His bed wasn't the best either, but it allowed him comfort in sleep for the most part. He had a book shelf with several books he had read at least four times each, but he enjoyed reading them over again everytime.

"Wake up! I'm paying all this damn money for your education you bitch! The least you could do is get your lazy ass up!" Arthurs father yelled from the other side of the bedroom door. Arthur rolled his eyes and sat up.

"Speak for yourself." Arthur muttered. He stretched and popped his back. Arthur sighed to himself and walked over to his closet. Being organized was an under statement for Arthur. He was a total neat freak, and could not stand anything out of place. His closet was set into three parts. His band t-shirts were on the far left, and his solid colored shirts in the middle. His skinny jeans came next, ordered from darkest to lightest (only being black to gray). On the floor of his closet were his shoes. Combat boots were placed on the left and his converse on the right.

Arthur sighed and looked at his clothes. He felt more tired today so he chose to go with a navy solid colored long sleeved shirt and dark gray jeans. He picked up his black combat boots and tucked his jeans into them before lacing them up. Next, he went into his bathroom and combed out his hair as best as he could. He put in his earing studs and made sure his shirt was covering his tattoo. Arthur nodded to himself in acceptance and walked out of his room.

As soon as he was out of his room, his face met the floor. He groaned and rolled over so that he was facing his father.

"Yes?" Arthur asked not daring to move.

"Damn kid." His father commented and walked away.

"Damn father." Arthur retorted as he stood up and dusted himself off. He grabbed his bag and skateboard and walked out the front door.

On the other side of town, Alfred F. Jones awoke to a light tapping sound on his door. He smiled and got up as he stretched. Alfred looked around his room and smiled at his latest trophy. Alfred's room consisted of a closet, desk, TV, trophy case, and many pictures and posters. It was rather large, and decorated all over.

"I'm up mom." Alfred commented as he went to his closet.

"Okay dear, breakfast is on the table." Alfreds mother said as she walked away. Alfred smiled and opened his messy closet.

"Eh..." Alfred thought for a moment and decided upon his blue jeans and white button up shirt. He nodded and went to his bathroom. Alfred combed his hair and cleaned off his glasses. He put them on and smiled to himself.

"Lookin' good as always, Al!" Alfred laughed as he went downstairs and grabbed some toast.

"Thanks mom!" Alfred said as he kissed her cheek and grabbed his jacket. On the jacket was a large number 50 for his number on the football team, and whatever other sport he was on. He ate his toast as he grabbed his bookbag and ran out the door.

How was it? Bad? Good? Meh?