There are some secrets that even your closest friends don't know, but telling them to a stranger is different. A stranger doesn't know you. A stranger can understand. And perhaps what they say is true; misery loves company.

Warning: Mild swearing, character death.

Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya

My grasp tightened around the hot cup of coffee in my hands to the point where I thought that my skin could quite possibly be searing off. Either way, I welcomed the burning. It was odd, but despite the fact that it was summer, I felt strangely cold. The chills simply refused to go away.

They weren't the kind that you got when you felt like you were being watched, this was a different kind, and for some reason it felt so much worse. It was the feeling that you got after going into a hospital or a dark cellar; the slightest sense of discomfort that you know shouldn't be there, but is. Something just kept throwing me off track, and the fact that I couldn't put my finger on it aggravated me to no end.

My gaze travelled to the window, where I found faded emerald eyes beneath a pair of dark eyebrows and messy, sandy-blond hair staring back at me. I narrowed my eyes, scrutinizing the image, and the reflection did the same. Removing one of my hands from the cup, I raised it over my head and ran my fingers through my hair. It felt normal to the touch, as it always did, and looked normal as well, but when I allowed the strands to fall back into place, they felt plastered to my head, as though I was wearing a hat that was much too small. This was another thing that constantly bothered me.

The chime of a bell brought me out of my daze and I looked to the door of the café as someone my age or perhaps a bit younger stepped in. He walked to the counter and ordered a coffee and doughnut before looking around for a place to sit. I noted the small frown that came onto his face and glanced around as well; every seat was taken. The café was a rather popular one and the only one in the area. After my first few visits, I had soon discovered that it was always full. The fact that it was lunchtime and businesspeople, children, and regular customers alike were crowding everywhere didn't help either. There was only one chair left, and it was the one at my two-person table.

So of course, he came walking over, grin on his face. "I'm Alfred," he introduced himself cheerfully. He gestured to the chair. "Mind if I sit?"

I shook my head absentmindedly, my mind on other things upon hearing the name. Immediately, my head was filled with thoughts of things that I had heard about someone named Alfred.

"Set his glasses on the table there. He doesn't need them right now."

"This is something that I never thought I'd go through. Look at him, laying there all bandaged up and dirty. You can't even see the wheat-blond of his hair anymore, just mud-brown and blood-red."

"My poor baby! I'll never see him open his eyes again, will I? He had such beautiful eyes. They put the sky to shame."

He sat down at my allowance. The first thing that I noticed about him was that he was American, judging by his voice, and the second were his too-blue eyes hidden behind square glass frames, which I could see more clearly once he was at my level. I couldn't help but imagine him as the Alfred from my thoughts.

He practically slammed his cup down onto the table, causing the coffee of my untouched one to drop over the edge and onto my hand, which I brought back immediately and hid under the table along with my other hand. I was quickly deciding that I didn't like him.

"Sorry about your coffee, my actions don't always work out as planned. Guess I shouldn't try to make use of a broken arm."

At this, he had my attention again, and I found myself staring at him with more shock than it was probably appropriate to show a stranger if I wanted to seem polite. His arm was indeed tightly bound in a cast and I couldn't help but wonder how I possibly missed such an obvious detail. However, before I got the chance to ask him what had happened, he spoke again.

"Didn't burn ya too bad, did it?" he asked jokingly.

"Not at all," I said instead. He nodded and began to sip his coffee, leaving us to sit in silence. I found myself staring out the window again and at the park across the road. Now that school was out, children were running around in glee and there just seemed to be an overall happier atmosphere.

"So anyway," Alfred said. "I'm Alfred F. Jones, though you already know that first part." I nodded. Alfred's gaze fell to my cup sitting on the table. "Aren't you going to drink your coffee, Artie?"

"No, I don't care for the stuff. I just bought it to warm my hands. The bloody cashier said that they were out of tea."

"You're so British," Alfred snickered. I rolled my eyes, realising what he had called me after a moment. He spoke again before I got the chance to ask him how he knew my name.

"See the blue house in the distance?" he asked. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. He was staring out of the window as well, a faraway look in his eyes. I looked back to see what he was indicating, murmuring a "yes, why?" in response before I even spotted the house. I knew what he was talking about; I passed the house everyday when walking home from school. The ones around it were blandly coloured, all white or build out of regular brick, but the blue house was bright and happy. The grass was a vivid green and the yard dotted with flowers. All it seemed to need was a white picket fence.

"I live there," he told me.

"Oh," I said. "Do you go to the high school down the street from there then?"

"Yup. I've actually seen you around a few times."

"Well that explains how you know my name."

"Yeah," he chuckled. "I probably should have mentioned that before. It probably freaked you out for a second."

"Maybe a bit. Oh, and for future notice, it's Arthur, not Artie." I reprimanded. Alfred just laughed, and I found myself smiling slightly. "What grade are you in?" I asked in curiosity.

"Sophomore, this upcoming year. I'm a year younger than you," suddenly he grinned and added, "Student Council Pres."

"Two years running," I chuckled. "Though I may not get it next year. Francis has been trying to steal the position from me."

"And you'll let him?" Alfred asked, feigning shock. He was probably aware of my frenemy status with the frog. It wasn't exactly a secret.

I scoffed. "Not in a million years. So, back to what you said before. Why did you tell me where you lived?"

"I was just going to mention how I did this to myself. I figured you'd be curious," Alfred indicated to his arm. "I was being stupid and fell off the roof." I raised an eyebrow and he seemed to notice my confusion, for he began to explain further. "I don't even know why I was up there. I guess it doesn't matter now. People get dumb ideas sometimes, you know?"

I nodded. "Well at least you're not too hurt."

"I wouldn't say that," he chuckled, and despite the fact that he kept grinning, it seemed more forced now, no happiness behind it. "We've got an old shed by the house that's like a decade old. By some nasty fate, I fell right onto the thing and crashed straight through the roof. Landed on some power tools and shit you use to repair cars, too. I practically snapped my neck and smashed my head open."

I didn't know how to reply to that. My elbow resting on the table, I began to twirl a strand of hair around my finger, something I did when I needed a distraction or felt uncomfortable. "That's…"

"Karma?" Alfred supplied.

"What?" I stared at him incredulously. "In what way is it karma?"

He shrugged. "I was told countless times not to go up there. I was being an idiot. Maybe it's just the universe's way of saying 'I told you so'."

"That's no reason to say that!" I insisted. "It was just an accident. Sometimes bad things happen to good people."

There was a small, sad smile on his face as he stared into the remnants of his cup, refusing to meet my gaze. "That's the thing though. You don't know me, Artie. I'm not a good person. I tried, I really did, but I'm just an oblivious fool who got what he deserved."

"What do you mean?" He may have been right in saying that I didn't know him, but I could tell that annoying as he seemed, he wasn't a bad person. Just someone who tried too hard.

"Look," he suddenly said, snapping his head up to quickly meet my gaze. His mouth was in a straight line and he furrowed his eyebrows in determination, as though he had something to prove, and maybe to him it seemed that he did. So I let him rant, knowing that what he had to say was important and that he had to get it out.

"I did what I could, okay? I helped out at the animal shelter sometimes, volunteered at school events, did extra things for the teachers… I filled up my schedule so much that I barely had any time left for myself. But I guess that it just wasn't enough. I was so busy with everyday stuff that would hardly get noticed that I didn't realise it when those close to me needed help, and I'm only just seeing that now. I didn't encourage my brother Matthew to join the school hockey team so that one day, he might reach his goal of playing for the NHL. I didn't talk to Ivan when he was feeling upset because I was busy and I thought that he could handle it on his own. He was a tough guy, scared half the school. I ended up accidentally ignoring him and as it turned out, it was his last day at the school because he was moving back to Russia. He left with no form of contact, thinking that I hated him. The good that I tried to do doesn't make up for the bad that I ended up doing."

"Everyone makes mistakes." I told him. "You're only human. You can't say that you deserved what happened just because of such little things."

"You don't understand what this means to me," Alfred said. "I'm always trying to be a hero. What kind of hero am I if I can't even help out those who really need it?"

"It's not your fault-" I tried to explain again, but he cut me off.

"I wonder what the people at school will think when they find out," he murmured, more to himself. He chuckled bitterly. "What if I died? What then? Do you think that they'd dedicate a whole page of the yearbook to me?" he glanced at me. "Come to think of it, aren't you in charge of that, Pres? I bet they wouldn't. I didn't do anything worthy of getting such a remembrance. Besides, it's not like the accident was during the school year. Since it was in the summer it probably doesn't matter."

I shook my head, brushing off his negative comments. "There's no need for such depressing talking now, come off it."

"Right," Alfred said. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. Upon reopening them, he changed the subject. "So what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Come on, I just got a lot off my chest. Don't I get anything in return?" he pouted jokingly.

I scowled. "That was of your own doing. It's not like I asked you to."

"Aww, please? I won't tell anyone. You have my word."

I stared at him for a moment, searching his face for any hint that he may be lying. I came up with nothing and with a sigh, decided that it wouldn't hurt.

"Fine," I muttered. He leaned in, watching me expectantly. I suddenly found the table very interesting to stare at. "Um well, I don't know. I suppose something that I've never told anyone is that the reason I'm such an arsehole, as the other students so lovingly call me, is because I have such a difficult life back home. I go to school, where I'm known as the jealous, mean, and lonely Student Council President and nothing else, and then I go home to my drunken father and verbally abusive brother. It's stressful. What's more, he keeps insisting that I should be locked up in a mental ward or something."

"Why's that?" Alfred asked curiously.

"I, uh," I hesitated and started to mess with my hair again. Then I quietly said a barely audible, "I sometimes see or hear things."

He appeared to have heard, for his eyes widened, but unlike the others, he didn't seem afraid when he asked, "Like what? And why do you keep playing with your hair?"

"Bad habit." I answered a bit too quickly out of nervousness, considering what we were talking about. I moved on to his first question. "Mostly animals. Fairytale creatures, if you will. Recently a German man has been talking to me. He says that his name is Ludwig and that he's a doctor. My mother, the only person I can tolerate, thinks that I may be showing symptoms of Schizophrenia. She doesn't know about the last one, though. I haven't told her. I don't want to know what she'd do if she found out that it's still happening."

"Maybe you should get some help," Alfred said carefully, as though he was trying to make sure that I knew he wasn't insulting me. "You never know."

"Nonsense," I muttered. "I'm perfectly fine."

He began to play with the doughnut that he hadn't yet started to eat. "I'm not trying to force you to do anything. I'm just saying that maybe it'd be for the best," he glanced up, blue meeting green. "You seem like a cool person, Artie. If something is going on, then you'd want to get it treated before it gets worse."

Despite everything, I found myself considering this. "We'll see," I eventually said. "And it's Arthur, not Artie."

That seemed to be enough for him to start grinning widely again. "Isn't this something?" he said. "I thought you'd be my polar opposite, but it turns out that we actually have a lot in common."

"Like what?" I asked.

"We're both just sad strangers pouring their hearts out to each other in a café."

I was stuck on his words and didn't get a chance to think of a response before Alfred's grin faded and he seemed to pale, though I tried to convince myself that it was probably just the lighting. A sad look of regret or longing or something else entirely appeared in his eyes as he stood, his chair scraping on the linoleum floor of the café. "I really wish I could stay and chat some more," he said. "But I have to go now."

With that, he abruptly turned and began to march toward the door, his doughnut and empty cup forgotten on the table. I didn't know what had possessed me, but I found myself leaping out of my own chair and running after him. I didn't think about the looks that I was probably getting. It suddenly seemed like we were the only two people in the world.

"Wait!" I called. "Why so soon? You've barely been here a half hour!" The thought that he probably had friends or family he was supposed to meet up with came to mind, but I pushed it back. As much as I liked to tell myself otherwise, everything that the others said about me was true in the end. I was nothing but the jealous, mean, and lonely Student Council President. I hated to seem clingy, but I had to admit that it had been nice to talk to someone who wasn't imaginary for once. I didn't want him to leave.

Alfred turned back to me. "Time works differently here, Artie. It's been nearly two days."

"What the Hell are you talking about?" I managed to say before he started talking again, a bright look on his face, as though he hadn't a care in the world.

"I like you, Artie. You're great. I wish we had met before, in a different situation. We could've been something."

` I felt the slightest bit of heat rush to my cheeks at what I thought he was implying. He began to slowly walk toward the door. This time, I didn't follow. "What are you-"

"Oh, and if you see Mattie around, get him to join the hockey team, will you? Tell him he could make it to the big time."

"Why are you leaving?" I found myself demanding rather childishly. All I had left to do was stomp my foot on the ground and the look would be complete.

He didn't answer for a while. He pulled open the café's glass door, the bell chiming above him, and stepped out. Halfway through, he glanced back at me over his shoulder. What he said next hit me hard like a tonne of bricks and I found the world spinning.

"It's time to wake up now."

(Pagebreak)

As I came to, I became aware of a quick, continuous beeping.

Beep, beep, beep, beep.

It was a loud and shrill noise, but nothing like I had remembered my alarm clock being. This had a higher pitch and a faster rhythm. It didn't take long at all for me to realise that whatever was making the noise, there were two of. The second one began to slow down, its beeps coming out after slightly longer intervals. Soon, it stopped completely, letting out nothing but one harsh, long, endless, "Beeeeee…"

At this I heard a cry, and that was what caused my eyes to snap open. My heart was beating erratically and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the blinding white light of the room. My hand fisted around simple, white sheets and I could feel the not-too-soft mattress of a hospital bed beneath me. Someone immediately rushed over to my side.

"You're awake," he stated, sounding surprised. I instantly recognised the voice. His accent was unmistakeable.

"Ludwig?" I murmured in disbelief at the man. He had slicked back blond hair and ice-blue eyes. The combination of blond and blue reminded me of someone else. He seemed a bit bewildered at what I had said, but didn't say anything as I raised my hand to pull at my hair, finding bandages wrapped tightly around my head that prevented me from doing so.

"Don't move," Ludwig said. "You've been in a car accident. You were in a coma for two weeks."

"What?" I gasped. Suddenly I understood why he'd been confused at me knowing his name; he'd never actually told me what it was before, at least not while I was conscious. It seemed that I had still somehow managed to hear him.

I then finally noticed all the machinery set up around me, including a heart monitor. It was the one that was still beeping. I ignored my mother as she hurried into the room, looking as though she were about to cry. Instead, I turned my head, daring myself to look to the other side of the room.

I saw another blond, taller doctor with glasses approach the second, screeching heart monitor. He unplugged it and then turned toward the crying family. He put his hand on a sobbing woman's shoulder with a murmur of, "'M r'lly s'rry, Mrs. Jones."

"I knew it," she wailed, clutching desperately onto the man's sleeve. "I knew he'd barely make it a few days. Why did I even hope?"

My gaze reluctantly fell to the bed that they were crowded around. All I could see was a body covered in bandages, wheat-blond hair, and part of a face, but I didn't have to be a genius to know that it was Alfred.

"Arthur!" my mother exclaimed, blocking my view. "Thank God you're okay!"

Ludwig began checking my health and I was left to try to console her, but no matter what, I couldn't get the thought of Alfred out of my mind. It was just a dream. It had to have been. Though the more that I thought about it, the more I realised that things added up. Everything that I had seen about him was what I had heard the doctors and his family describe, and the thing that I didn't know, he had to tell me himself. I had been in some weird state of unconsciousness that felt real and lucid, though a minuscule part of my mind remained on the brim of subconsciousness, stuck in the real world.

I glanced behind my mother and saw who must have been Matthew. I knew that I'd be having a word with him in the near future. I also knew what I'd be doing as soon as the time for yearbooks came back around.

Though despite everything, I refused to believe that what I had gone through was true. Miracles just didn't exist, I realised as I felt my heart break for someone I barely knew. Otherwise, Alfred would have lived.

Hey guys! Guess what? I'm not dead! Wow, it's been nearly a year since I posted something. I hope you all liked this one-shot!

Did you realise the double meaning behind the title? 'Out to lunch' is apparently a synonym for comatose, haha. Also it's rather funny how this basically has the exact same plot as my other story: Arthur meets someone at a café, they spill their secrets, and then the other person dies. Whoops! Completely unintentional, I swear.. x)

I'd love to know what you guys think of this. I'm not too fond of it, some parts didn't come out the way I had hoped and it seems confusing. If you don't understand something then let me know and I'll explain.

Anyway, I've probably talked too much already. Please review! c: