Hello there! I have finally bitten the bullet and took the plunge. A hetalia story on fanfiction that will actually (hopefully) be updated!

Now, I have been horrible with sticking with stories. I'm that annoying writer that posts one chapter and that's it. So, how do I combat that problem?

Have multiple chapters on oneshots of course!

These will be of the wonderful pairing of America and England, those dorks. Warnings, lots of these will be AU's, and I tend to write whenever I'm in the mood. This is also for English practise, so it might get a bit topsy turvy sometimes ;)

They may be extra long or really short, whatever fits. Also, I will give a quick synopse at the start. So, if the prompt does not suit you, you can skip it!

And I'm so sorry that the first one is really sad. It just happened :s

"Free Bird"

Angst and suicide

Please listen to Free Bird by Lynyrd Skynrd for the best expereince~

"If I leave here tomorrow, would you still remember me?"

Arthur was a pathetic mess. That was the only possible way he could describe himself at this moment. Here he was, lying among a stash of empty bottles of booze in his dark apartment, having himself a pity party. Hair mussed up, matted on his forehead. His eyes were puffy and red, he was in complete disarray. Listening to his favourite songs and drinking his booze. What a better way to forget your troubles with fantastic irony. If only Alfred could see him now.

If only.

"For I must be travelling on, now, cause there's too many places I've got to see."

Arthur let a dry chuckle out, reaching for another bottle. No better way to get rid of your troubles by drinking it away. He couldn't even feel the burn of the alcohol anymore. Only a dull, senseless feeling remained. He relished in that feeling, it let him forget. More, more, more, he chugged it down.

Too much.

Arthur released the bottle from his lips, dry rasps heaving his body. Choking back tears or choking back the bitter alcohol, only god knows. Everything is too much, too soon.

"But, if I stayed here with you, girl, things just couldn't be the same."

Arthur could feel the hot, burning tears again. He looked at the bottle in betrayal.

"It's all you fault." He rasped out, the bloody thing didn't say anything. Stupid, silent, git of a fuck. The bottle seemed to be mocking him.

It took all Arthur's strength to toss the bottle at the opposite wall, a feeling of dull satisfaction as it smashed, breaking the atmosphere of the suffocating room.

"Told ya, you tosser" he moaned at the bottle, watching the liquid stain into his carpet.

"Cause I'm as free as a bird now, and this bird you can not change."

Arthur leant back on his wall, looking at all the shards. Despair seemed to fill him up the more he looked at the bottle. Bourbon, he mused silently, Alfred's favourite type.

The Brit felt more hot tears burning his eyes. Why did Alfred have to go? Had to leave him here, in this ugly, lonely apartment? The very thought of Alfred sent Arthur reaching for the nearest bottle.

No more.

"Oh... oh... oh... oh... oh... And the bird you cannot change. And this bird you cannot change. Lord knows I can't change."

Arthur couldn't count how long he lay there. Time seemed slower, no that was not the feeling. Time seemed not to exist.

Just like Alfred.

"Lord knows, I can't change. Lord help me, I can't change. Lord I can't change."

Arthur felt himself shift, his sore legs aching in protest, but he was on autopilot. Something seemed to change. Something snapped along with the music- Arthur simply had too much. He was lost in that maze called life. He wanted out. Blindly he stumbled to the balcony's doors, grappling at the handles.

"Won't you fly high free bird yeah"

As soon as the guitar solo kicked in, Arthur felt the cold wind burn his skin. He placed his hands on the cement barrier, gently lifting himself so he was crouching on it. Reaching up, Arthur was ready. He looked down at the speeding cars below.

"B-Bloody hell" his teeth clacked, the drop was an instant death. Arthur tossed his head back, breathing erratic.

Alfred, Alfred, Alfred.

He again looked down, feeling dizzy with his adrenaline. This was it. His pathetic, lonely existence was about to end.

"Arthur!"

Dreaming. No, hallucinations, Arthur thought bitterly, looking down at the Alfred beside him. Smug bastard, that grin was a weapon in its own right.

The imaginary Alfred just whistled, sitting on the wall. Arthur had to look away into the distance, his heart clenching fiercely. Those blue eyes…

The music was building, reaching and peaking. Arthur couldn't help himself, he looked at Alfred. Pleading for guidance or looking for welcomed familiarity in a scary place, he didn't know. Arthur took in the Americans trade mark bomber jacket, white t-shirt and jeans too big for his waist. Those glasses, that unmanageable cowlick, those eyes, that smile. How long has he wanted to touch him one more time?

"I love you Artie."

The silence was deafening. Arthur slowly let his hands go from above. There was nothing else to stop him. He was literally dangling on the edge of death itself. Alfred just gave him a small, sad knowing smile.

"You know I'll catch you."

The music stopped.

Arthur let go.

What do you guys think? :)