I'm sorry I haven't updated, I just got back from camp and then I went to Minneapolis for 4-H... It's been busy! Anyway, this is a songfic. I have nothing against England! I swear! The song just fit him. :(

WARNINGS: Character death

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Hetalia, and the song 'A team' belongs to Ed Sheeran. I'm simply a fan. :)

Enjoy!

Edit: Yeah, I had someone Beta this and I changed some parts.


White lips, pale face
Breathing in snowflakes

"Friends we are gathered here today to remember a man we all cherished deeply."

Alfred scoffed. Half these people barely knew Arthur.

No one could bring Artie back. He was gone.

Burnt lungs, sour taste
Light's gone, day's end
Struggling to pay rent
Long nights, strange men

Arthur had been a smoker, and everyone knew that. In fact, Alfred thought, that was the 'official' cause of death. Not everyone knew about his hard life juggling three jobs to pay for his apartment.

Alfred stood and pushed the doors to the church open. Snowflakes floated to the ground and the world had become a small, white wonderland. Simple and beautiful, so fitting for the day of Arthur's funeral.

And they say
He's in the Class A Team
Stuck in his daydream
Been this way since 18.

In school Alfred and Arthur had been in the same class. They became a couple in their senior year. The grumpy disposition of the Brit hadn't exactly made him popular, but he was by no means an outcast.

His tendency to want to spend time with imaginary friends and his belief in magic and unicorns had deemed him crazy, but he didn't care. Arthur had his own world to go to.

But lately his face seems
Slowly sinking, wasting
Crumbling like pastries

Drugs.

That's what did it, and Alfred knew that. It was an unspoken thing. Cold and horrible, the realization had soon crept up on everyone. The body (Alfred refused to call it Arthur. That wasn't Arthur that laid there dressed in black.) had been well disguised, but it was still obvious. Arthur's skin, once like pale silk, was loose looking and yellow-tinged.

Maybe if someone had realized earlier...

They scream
The worst things in life come free to us
And we're all under the upper hand.

"Hey!"

16 year old Arthur looked up from a textbook just in time to see a pair of bright blue eyes crash into him and knock him over.

"AAH!" he pushed the boy off him and stood up, straightening his tie. "Bloody hell boy! Trying to kill someone?"

Alfred stared at the junior, gaping at the angelic face that glared down at him. He cleared his throat and stuck out his hand.

"Sorry dude, I didn't mean to knock you over. I'm Alfred."

"Hmph. I'm Arthur."

And go mad for a couple grams
And we don't want to go outside tonight
And in a pipe his flies to the Motherland
Or sells love to another man.

"Alfred!"

Alfred, dressed in black and looking at the face of his lover with red, empty eyes, turned to see Francis Bonnefoy walking towards him. The life long rival of Arthur's slung his arm around the American.

"Hey, I'm really sorry abou-"

"No you're not."

Francis stared at him. "What?"

"No you're not." clarified Alfred. "You always harassed him. He didn't love you, he just needed the money. For all we know you could be the reason he's not here anymore." he spoke in a monotone.

Francis and turned slowly and walked to the back of the church.

It's too cold outside
For angels to fly

That night Alfred sat alone in his house, cold and alone. Suddenly, all the grief just broke through him like a dam that had been holding back all day as to not let his sadness break free in public.

"Why?" he howled. "Why Arthur? Why not someone else? I can't believe he's gone!" He curled up in a ball.

"Arthur."

Angels to fly
To fly, fly
Angels to fly,To fly, to fly
For angels to die.

Covered in white.


I SOWWY. I loves England. :(

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-Capaso