It had been three years, and Arthur was still waiting for Alfred to pop the question. He didn't expect a ring, considering they could barely rent, just a proposal. Alfred came home at 4:00 that night, when Arthur was making dinner.

"Hello love," Arthur yelled from the kitchen, "How was work?"

"Same old, same old." Alfred said, taking off his jacket and shoes, walking into the kitchen and giving Arthur a small peck on the lips, "So watcha' cooking?"

"Meat and two veg."

"Yum, just like yesterday." Alfred replied sarcastically, placing his large hands on Artie's shoulders, slowly massaging them.

"Mmm… that feels good. I've been so stressed lately. Finding a job these days is terrible, especially here in America." Arhtur said with a glum look on his face, "And how are we going to pay the rent this month?"

"We'll figure it out honey. I'll work extra hours, I'll take a minor job on the weekends, we'll borrow money from Mattie, whatever it takes. Don't worry. And at least now the house is clean and we have food other than frozen meals." Alfred said with a childish grin on his face. He shifted his head, gazing upon Arthur's beautiful, green eyes, "I love you so much… "

"Well I love you too. Our meal will still be cooking for another 30 minutes, want to watch some television?"

"Okay!" He said with joy, and then under his breath, "Perfect…"

"What?"

"Oh, nothing dear."

They both sat on the couch and Alfred faced his boyfriend. "The love of my life for thousands of years, you took me in when I was young, and I can never repay you for that. These 3 years together have been the greatest of my life, and I wouldn't trade them for anything, but, I don't want you to be my boyfriend anymore," Arthur stared at Alfred in pure shock, "I want you to be my husband." Alfred got down on his knee, and slipped a beautiful ring out of his pocket. "Arthur Kirkland, will you marry me?" Tears filled up in Arthur's eyes,

"Finally you ask you stupid American! Of course, yes!" Arthur jerked Alfred's collar towards his face and pressed his lips against Alfred's, eyes closed, grasping each other with passion. Slowly but surely Alfred started to unbutton Arthur's crisp, white shirt as Arthur moved his strong hands towards Alfred's muscular chest, unbuttoning his shirt as well. The two twisted together, fell onto the old, brown carpet. They kissed more vigorously, Arthur reaching towards Alfred's "vital regions" started to unbuckle his belt, when the oven timer beeped its shrill alarm. Arthur untangled himself and ran to the oven.

"Geez dude, someone is intense about cooking."

"Would you like dry meat and burnt vegetables for dinner?"

"I would rather stay the frick down here with you, I could care less about food, because I love you more than anything in the world, even more than hamburgers." Arthur smiled as Alfred got up from the floor.

"Hey, I'm going to the liquor store to buy something that will help continue what just happened," He said, winking, "I'll be back in a few my sexy Brit."

"See you later, sexy hero." He opened the door, and left.

Alfred drove his old, white, 1990 Toyota Corolla LEto the liquor store. He went in, bought a case of beer, a bottle of wine, and walked in line to check out when a burly man in a white mask burst through the door, gun in hand.

"This is an armed robbery! Give me your money or I will shoot!" as Alfred accidentally dropped his bottle of wine. The crook walked over to Alfred in a mysterious fashion.

"You think this is funny, punk? Huh? If you think it's so freakin' hilarious, hand over those sneakers of yours." Arthur had given him those for his 21st Birthday, even though he didn't have the $90 to spare. Red and blue, they looked good anytime!

"N… No. I can't do that, sir. You can take anything else. Here, you want my jacket?" He said, taking off his signature bomber jacket.

"Alright, be that way." He suddenly pushed Alfred down, letting him fall directly on the broken glass. The loud cry of police sirens quicklyfilled the area. The robber put the gun to Alfred's head.

"Any last words, wimp?"

"I love you Arthur."

"Oh, haha! Is this 'Arthur' your boyfriend? Oh, so suddenly Mr. Punk Kid is now gay."

"But I love him," He replied in pure disgust of this homophobic retard. Before he could pull the trigger, the police busted through the door and the robber took the gun away from his head. They grabbed him by the arms as he yelled some vulgar nonsense. Poor Alfred started to get up but faster than the speed of light, the sounds and smells of a gunshot filled the room as Alfred let out an agonizing scream. The burglar dropped the gun, and the paramedics ran to Alfred. They picked up his long body and placed him on a stretcher where they saw the bloody bullet hole in his stomach. They quickly put his body into the ambulance van.

"Anyone we should call to hopefully pick you up, cutie?" One of the younger female paramedics asked, placing an IV into his wrist and batting her eyes.

"Arthur Kirkland," Alfred pulled out of his pocket an old Motorola flip phone, "His number is labeled as um… 'Sexy Brit'"

"Okay cu- oh. Um.. sir. Sorry… 'bout that. I didn't realize… I'll call him right away."

"Thanks. Tell him not to worry, I'll be fine."

"But sir," the other paramedic said, "In this condition, you may not be."

"JUST TELL HIM, GOD DAMMIT! Gah! Oww!"

Four nurses ran after Arthur as he burst into the hospital room. He ran beside his new fiancée, lying helplessly on the white hospital bed.

"Alfred!" He yelled, tears streaming down his face, "Stay with me, I need you! I can't live without you! I love you!"

"I… I love you too," Alfred said in a quiet voice, because it hurt for him to speak, "I will, forever and ever. Don't forget. Stay strong, my sexy Brit. I'll see you soon, okay? " His eyes closed ever so slowly and the heart tracking meter came to a stop.

"N… No! No! Don't go! You're the hero! You're the hero! Come on! Come on!" He said, banging his fists against the wall, crying so hard he could barely talk.

"He's gone…" A nurse said, tears welling up in her eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"I AM SO FREAKING STUPID!" Arthur yelled, slamming his head on the wall of, now just his, bedroom. "I SHOULD HAVE GONE! I'M THE ONE WHO SHOULD HAVE BEEN MURDERED, NOT HIM! WHY THE BLOODY HELL DOES THIS HAPPEN TO HIM!" He punched the wall and ran to the kitchen. He pulled a steak knife out of the drawer, "I'LL DO IT! JUST TO BE WITH MY OTHER PIECE!" He slit his wrist, a stream of bright red blood flowed out. He stabbed the knife into the wall next to a framed photo of him and Alfred. In Sharpie next to it said, 'Stay strong, it gets better' Arthur fumed with rage, "HOW THE HELL CAN THIS GET BETTER!" He yelled, throwing the photo to the ground, shattering the glass of the picture frame.

"What the bloody hell do you want?" Arthur yelled.

"Hello Arthur! It's me! Francis Bonnefoy!"

"Shut the hell up." He yelled from the door.

"Well then, when your English panties aren't up in a bunch, come over sometime."

'No, I don't want to."

"Well, just think about my offer, alright?"

~Arthur was never the same after Alfred died, he never smiled, he never drank, and he tried to fill the empty hole of his heart with Francis. He never really loved Francis, though he sat through years and years as his personal rag doll. Arthur has bruises and scars up and down his body from the sexual abuse from Francis, but he never left. He felt as if it was his fault Alfred was dead, and this was his punishment.~

Arthur was sitting on one of the kitchen chairs, staring at the shattered picture of him and his Fiancée. Francis game over and slapped his butt, "Why the hell are you still not over that stupid American? I thought that was part of the deal. Cher Dieu, Arthur." Francis yelled, 'My room in ten minutes, trust me." He waited exactly ten minutes and went through his daily punishment. But he always remembered one thing , "Stay strong, I'll see you soon."