Hello! I've been working on this for forever and finally came around to finishing part one. It's based on "Whiskey Lullaby" by Brad Paisley and Allison Kraus. Er... I always change up the time point of view thing. Like, I'll go from using "-ing" words to "-ed" words to "-s" words. I can't place what that's called. D: anyway. Here you go. Some USUK for you lovely people. Please read and review!

Alfred's POV:

"Arthur…" I whispered hoarsely, somehow fighting back the tears, "Why?"

"Alfred, I didn't mean-"

"Was I… Was I not good enough for you, Arthur? Just what does Francis have that I don't? What the fuck do I mean to you, exactly? I was gone. Fighting for what I believed in; to protect the country that you live in now- to protect you. What did I do wrong? I loved you," I spat out harshly, watching him wince in guilt.

"I didn't mean to. It just… happened. You know how Francis is- always forcing himself on others. You're everything to me, you git! Nothing…" he stared at his boots. I could tell he was on the verge of crying. "You didn't do anything wrong. I love you, Alfred. You know that. I would never hurt you purposely."

"That's bullshit. You knew what you were doing when you did it!" Arthur was silent for a moment. He gasped for breath.

"At least I told you instead of keeping it bottled up. That would have been the wrong thing to do. It shows I care enough to feel horrid about what I did."

"Whatever," a sharp pain shot through my chest, "It's what you wanted at that moment in time. You got it, just like everything else you've ever wanted in life. It's not really that hard for you. If you had really loved me, you wouldn't have even thought about Francis. I'm done. I can't deal with any of this. We both know we'll be better off without each other."

I couldn't even bear to wait to hear what else he had to say. It would hurt too much, I just knew it would. As I was halfway out the door, Arthur released a shrill sob. It hurt worse than I would have admitted to. "I love you, Alfred." The screen door slammed shut as he screamed my name.

"I love you more than anything, Arthur, but… fuck you." I whispered to myself, begging the tears not to fall. He wasn't worth it in the end, was he?

I'd always been fond of whiskey. I loved the soft amber color it flashed. I knew that it was a silly reason to enjoy it, but it was true. I wasn't sure why I did, in all actuality. It was just a color. The taste wasn't half bad, either. Tonight was the first night I'd been without Arthur as my partner. It was intolerable, to say the least. I was curled up on the couch most of the day. I couldn't really shed tears. Maybe it's because I knew something like that would happen. Who knew?

It was probably around eight o' clock by now. I wasn't sure, and, quite frankly, I didn't care. The thought of the warm alcohol had flooded my mind. I remembered that I had a whole cabinet full of some kind of whiskey. I couldn't place where I got it from, or what it was even called. I tasted it once. It was really stout without watering it down. I could remember that.

The more I thought about it, the more I desired it. I really needed it now.

It wasn't really hard to find, actually. It was just a matter off remembrance as to which cabinet I stored it in. Whenever I found it, I glanced at the label. It read "Wild Turkey Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey". It didn't sound too familiar. You would think I'd remember something like that. I tore off the protective, plastic seal from the neck of one of the bottles with shaking hands. I carelessly chunked the cork top across the room and frantically placed my lips to the glass bottle, swallowing the dark liquid. It wasn't quite the color I was used to, but I didn't care at this point. It slid down my throat the same way, so it didn't matter. A gagging noise escaped my throat. "This is horrible… I don't remember it tasting like this. But… I need it," I muttered, taking another long swig. I didn't need to weaken it. The bitter taste fit my mood nicely.

I sighed, cradling a few more bottles to take with me to the couch. It's not like I was going to drink all of them, but I wouldn't feel like getting up if I did. When I passed the kitchen table, I grabbed a notepad and a red pen that was sitting there. By the time I made it back to the living room, the bottle was basically empty. The sunken in cushions of the couch seemed so inviting. I couldn't help but to fall back on it.

Already on the second bottle, I began to scrawl on the yellow paper. "I'll love him 'til I die, I'll love him 'til I die, I'll love him 'til I die…" Arthur's picture perched on the table beside the arm of the couch. I knocked the frame over, flinching to the sound of cracking glass. As I lifted it back up, fragments of the glass littered the mahogany stand. The sharp edges nicked at my fingertips whenever I tried to retrieve the photo of what my world once was.

"Arthur," I managed to rasp out, the tears finally breaking through. I gulped more of the whiskey down and hurled the drained bottle against the wall. "Why?" my head ached and my body shook. I clutched the photo to my pounding chest.

"Where did I go wrong? I just wanted to make you proud…"

A shrill tune shattered the silence of the dully lit living room. Artie appeared across my cellphone's screen, as well as incoming call. The tiny electronic joined the destroyed bottle inches from the wall, yet it kept ringing. The noise grew louder. The louder it grew, the sharper the pain in my chest grew. As soon as the nuisance of a ringtone ceased, it began once more. I couldn't take it anymore- any of it.

"God dammit Arthur," I squeaked fiercely in a slurred tone, crumpling up Arthur's picture and the note I'd messily written. As I stood up, I felt light-headed and the walls blurred around in circles. I squeezed my eyes shut, blocking out the noise in the process.

There wasn't a point to anything anymore.

I ran my hands through my hair as I stumbled towards the hall. The walls shifted as if though they would swallow me at any moment. I wouldn't care, though.

Once I was able to successfully flip the light switch just beside the doorframe in my bed room, I began to fumble through drawers. Clothes haphazardly littered the floor by the time I retrieved what I was searching for- the 9 millimeter Browning I was given, as it was mandatory for all nations to own firearms for protection. In a sick way, I was pretty glad it was loaded, because I don't think I could load it even if I wanted to.

My grip tightened around the photograph and the note that I clenched in my left hand. With a trembling hand, I raised the gun, roughly pressing it against my temple and clicking the safety off. A labored breath escaped my lips.
"I'm sorry I couldn't be perfect enough for you."

Before I knew it, I tugged slowly on the trigger, and everything turned to black.