You cross a line and there is no turnin' back
he told the world how he felt with the sound of a gat.
It started off as a normal day at school.
I rushed out of the house, waving goodbye to my parents and skipping breakfast. I figured that my mom would understand if I just wanted to get to class early for once. I had stayed up almost all night studying, a feat for me, and was confident about the test.
My converse-shoed feet slapped on the concrete as I ran, my breath coming out as small pants in the chilly Autumn air. When the sight of the school came into sight, I grinned, speeding up. I saw a couple of my friends/acquaintances and had to slow down before I slammed into my fellow blond. I laughed, scratching the back of my head as the Englishman berated me. I often sounded like a goof but it was just how I dealt with stress.
"Oi, where's Francy-pants?" I asked, cutting Arthur off as we headed for the front door of the large building. Even though I disliked school on most days, today just felt like a good day.
Arthur shrugged, walking calmly next to my nearly bouncing self. One of the other kids I knew, Arthur's little brother Peter, came up, wearing his uniform. He was one of the few students here that did, not because he had to but because he genuinely liked the sailor-like outfit. The three of us became engaged into a conversation, of which I can't remember now, but it sure seemed important at the time.
That was when it happened.
I was laughing one minute then frowned when I saw Peter suddenly lurch and grab at his chest. My eyes widened behind my glasses when the blood slowly stained his white and blue shirt. The pre-teen whimpered and began to cry but it was obvious that it was out of fear more than pain. Arthur knelt down to see what was wrong, in too much shock to realize that his kid brother had been shot.
My head whipped to the side when I heard a scream, watching another student fall. It was one of the Asian kids, Korean I think, and his sister was trying to hold him up to keep him from hitting the ground. Tears were cascading down her face from fear. I wanted to run over and help but I was frozen to my spot.
More screams filled the air and more students fell to the ground. Out of the corner of my eyes, I thought I saw the area from which the bullets were coming from but before I could confirm it, I felt two shots tear through my chest. I gasped, coughing up blood. Paramedics were rushing to the scene but I didn't hear anything but the screams as I blacked out.
I woke up in a hospital to see Arthur sitting beside me, eyes downcast and empty. I frowned and forced myself to sit up, grimacing at the pain but pushing it aside. His frame was somewhat hazy but I wasn't sure if it was from my lack of glasses or the pain medicine they had most likely replaced my blood with. "Artie?" I asked, voice gravelly and cracking.
His head came up quickly before he all but tackled me. I hissed at the pressure to my gunshot wounds but didn't allow him to move away. He openly sobbed into my chest and I raised a heavy arm, weighed down by my lack of motor skills, and rubbed his back. "God, A-Alfred, they said y-you wouldn't live!" he said, muffled. My hand fisted into his shirt. "H-he's gone, Al... Peter's dead."
My heart skipped a beat, stuttering to a halt for a moment before it started beating rapidly to make up for it... Not that it felt extraordinarily pleasant. "W-who...?" I asked, unable to get the words out. He knew what I asked and he gripped my own shirt, right above my heart, his sobs coming harder.
"F-Francis was one of them..." he whispered and I pulled the older teen closer, trying to rub his back reassuringly. I frowned. "H-he was taken away in a straight jacket and h-he confessed that he was the one that s-shot Peter."
I rubbed his back as he filled me in. The other that was apprehended was Antonio, a normally laid back Spanish teen who had taken a liking to Francis and had coaxed him to join their little gang. The third had been surrounded by the cops inside the house and shot himself in the head. I shuddered a bit, my free hand, pricked with the IV, coming up and tangling in Arthur's unwashed hair.
"How long was I asleep?" I asked. Arthur shuddered against me, his tears spent.
"A-about three days." he whispered. I closed my eyes and held him tighter to me, as if I could take all his pain from him. "T-there's a funeral service for those killed tomorrow... I..."
"Shh, Artie, I'll be there," I assured him quietly. "For now... I just need to sleep." I shifted as much as I could, pulling him up onto the bed weakly. I kept my arms wrapped around him, letting him drift off into an uneasy sleep. I stayed awake, for a while at least, thinking about the ones that had done such a horrible crime.
The next day was silent in the graveyard. The only sounds were the rain that fell onto the plastic umbrellas and the sobs of the friends and family of the deceased. I stood next to Arthur, ignoring the throbbing pain in my chest from he bullet wounds. The Englishman was scarily quiet, face blank. I knew he was trying to be strong so I couldn't bring myself to wrap my arm around his shoulders and offer my shoulder for him to cry on.
My attention was stolen when I heard the Principal clear his throat and look around at us. I straightened up slightly as he began to speak.
"It... It's a tragedy what happened this last Monday. We, as parents and grandparents, send our children to school, thinking they're safe. And... It's hard to know what kind of pain the students keep hidden when we have so many to keep track of... It's not an excuse for what happened." he said, his usual enthusiasm lost. It was as if he were forcing the words out. I didn't blame him. Both of his grandsons were shot. The elder had died but the younger had barely survived.. Feliciano and Lovino I think their names are. I dunno. Everything's getting hazy.
"Many of us feel broken from this incident. It really tests the faith we have in our government programs. But the youths that have done this... This terrible thing have been apprehended. We don't know what drove them to do it and we probably never will." he continued and I felt Arthur clench his hand into a fist in a sudden bout of anger. I grabbed his fist quickly and I heard him swallow tightly.
"Among those lost, the bright smiles we will never see, the thoughts we'll never hear, are Im Yong Soo, Seychelles, Peter Kirkland and... L-Lovino Vargas.." The principal continued, choking on his grandson's name. I felt bad for him, sure, but at I was mostly numb at the moment. "This tragedy has also taken the life of Gilbert Beilschmidt, though in a different manner-"
"That bloody bastard killed himself to stay out of prison! I hope he rots in hell!" Arthur shouted, the tears finally spilling from his eyes. I frowned and wrapped my arms around him, holding him back from tearing across the small distance to the caskets. I felt every ounce of his murderous intent aimed at the black box that held his brother's killer and it took a surprising amount of strength to hold him back.
"Arthur," I said as calmly as I could. That alone made him slump, despair and grief taking the place of the anger. I let go of him as he fell to his knees, back bowed and the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes as he sobbed openly.
"W-why wasn't it me? Why couldn't I take his place?" he asked, body wracking with sorrow.
Again, the principal cleared his throat but I only half-heard what he said, having knelt down to give Arthur as much comfort as I could give. "T-these five crosses will symbolize what has happened this last Monday morning and... And..." The normally strong man broke down and I found myself wondering what was worse: having your best friend kill your brother or your grandson being gunned down by his own lover?
"The two individuals that were apprehended have been given the death penalty that will be carried out as soon as possible." Gilbert's younger brother, Ludwig, stated with little to no emotion.
As the service drew to a close, the caskets lowered into the five graves dug and I, again, had to hold Arthur back from lunging at the one that held the albino's body. He turned, pressing his head into the crook of my neck as I held him.
"W-what do I do now?" he asked. We were the only ones left at the grave site by now, it was late night and I probably should've gone back to the hospital hours ago. I just couldn't bring myself to leave. "H-he was the only family I had and now he's gone.. Alfred, he was only twelve!" he sobbed. I shushed him as well as I could, rubbing his back.
"You go on living. You let go but you never forget. You be glad that he suffered very little throughout the ordeal... It will take time, Arthur, and the wound may never heal and I know that it doesn't help, but I'll be here for you," I said softly.
Eventually, he began to calm, his green eyes unnaturally blank as he laid his head on my shoulder. "You promise?" he asked.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I promise, Arthur," I whispered.
We are, we are
The Youth of the Nation