A/N: Hello semi-planned sequel to His Last Vow. This was tentative, but people wanted more chapters from His Last Vow, which is a one-shot. So, here you go. More of this world.

It should be raining.

That was the only thought running through Arthur Kirkland's head as he stood by the cemetery, where Alfred's funeral and memorial service was being held.

It's only fair. It's his funeral. Where are the rain clouds?

It was, in fact, a bright sunny day, the kind that Alfred had loved in years past: happier times. Now they felt like a mockery, because Alfred was only 16, and he would never see these kinds of days again.

"I'd like to thank you all for being here, in this time of sorrow." Arthur heard the priest from Alfred's old church start to speak to the crowd. It was amazing, and if only Alfred could see, how many people came, how many people cared.

But he couldn't. He couldn't see how many people cared about him, how many missed him, how many were already crying. He couldn't see it, and he had died believing that not a single one of them cared.

Arthur looked at the crowd. So many people there, all of whom Alfred thought had abandoned him. And in a way, they had.

There was Ivan, Alfred's "arch-rival'/friend, who had poked fun at Alfred for his weight, and his loudness, and his general "oboxious-ness".

There was Kiku, standing by Ludwig and Feliciano, the latter of them already sniffling. He had been Alfred's friend, but had left when he met the two he stood by.

There were Gilbert, Francis, and Antonio, all "friends" with him until he stopped being "cool" enough.

Natalya, his ninth-grade girlfriend who broke up with him. Lovino, who routinely cussed him out, though that was fairly normal. Yao, who always called him out on his continual diet of hamburgers and fries.

And Matthew. Alfred's (older) twin brother. He had always been the quieter one, letting Alfred take the lead,always being there. But in tenth grade he found the school hockey team, and suddenly had more friends than he knew what to do with. Suddenly, everyone knew Matthew, and Matthew didn't have the time for Alfred anymore.

Arthur hated them all.

For everything they did, and for not noticing Alfred's slow fall into depression. For not seeing something and talking to him. For not being there when he needed them.

Yes, he hated them.

But more than anything, he hated himself.

Because he was just as bad, just as guilty. He had turned him back, he had looked away, told himself that "he'll be fine, it's Alfred, nothing can dent that thick skull of his". But something did. Really, it was more that everything did. Everyone thought of Alfred as this constantly happy and upbeat person, letting anything and everything just roll right off his thick skin.

But they were wrong. So wrong. Because Alfred cared. And he felt. And each insult, each whispered comment, each friend who left him behind, he felt.

And now it was too late. He was gone, and they'd never have the chance to tell him that they did care, that they were there.

"-student Arthur Kirkland has requested to say a few words." Arthur was shaken out of his thoughts as he automatically made his way up to the front of the crowd, to address all these people.

Arthur looked down at the pre-written speech he had prepared the night before, and suddenly, it felt too impersonal. Alfred, as he remembered him, had been so full of life, and spontaneity, that a speech written out before hand felt, just, wrong. And so Arthur tucked it back into his pocket, took a deep breath, and addressed the crowd, with no plan except to say how he felt.

"Um-hello everyone. We all know why we're here today. And I just want to, uh, to talk to you about one of the greatest people, and the greatest friend, I have known.

I met Alfred F. Jones in the fourth grade, when I was fresh off the plane from England. And from that moment, I knew that we would be friends. Actually, that's a lie. He knew it, I didn't. I didn't think we'd be friends at all, but he convinced me."

Several people in the audience laughed a bit, remembering how stubborn Alfred could be.

"We were best friends. He was always full of life, always beaming, always there with some new idea that would either get us hurt, in trouble, or both."

More laughter.

"But then…" Arthur paused, and cleared his throat. "Then things changed. High school came, and I, I felt like he was holding me back, he was still too childish. He hadn't "grown up" yet. So I kept moving, and I left him behind."

The mood had shifted, back to the more somber tone of before. There were some accusatory stares leveled at him, but he ignored them and kept going.

"And I didn't realize, no one realized, that he was slowly being left alone. And I'm not the only one who left him!" Arthur looked out at the crowd, several of whom looked guilty, all of them remembering the laughs, the "well-meaning" taunts, the plans canceled and never rescheduled.

"I'm not the only one that let him down. We all let him down. But instead of seeing it as it was, that we were the ones at fault, that we should have done better-"

Arthurs voice shook, and he took a deep breath.

"He saw it as his own failure, and his own shortcomings that drove us away. And he thought that it made sense. And he started to think that the world would be better off without him. And it's not fair. Because now… the world is worse. Because we'll never have him in the middle of the dance floor at a party. We'll never have him going crazy at the school sports games. We'll never have him blow out the candles on his seventeenth birthday cake, with the fireworks in the sky that he always insisted were for him. And the world is worse off for it. And, I just wanted to say that Alfred was an amazing person. And that we-"

Another breath, in, out.

"We, and I especially, should have realized it earlier. Should have been there, should never have left."

Several audience members looked ashamed, others were crying, and still others looked simply devastated, realizing what an influence, what a presence Alfred had had.

"Alfred F. Jones was my best friend. He was-"

Arthur swallowed a sob that threatened to work its way out.

"He was my little brother. And I want to remember him, and want him to be remembered, as the bright, happy, full-of-energy boy with the gap-toothed smile that came up to me on the school playground and asked me if I wanted to play cops and robbers. I want him to be the bright, wonderful, amazing boy that-'

Arthur took a second, and knew that he couldn't go much longer.

"The wonderful, amazing boy that loved everyone, and that left us all too soon."

Arthur went back to his seat, and so many people touched his arm, or patted him. They pretended not to see his tears, and he pretended not to see theirs.

"Thank you Mr. Kirkland. Now-"

The priest went on, to finish the service. But Arthur didn't hear it. He was lost in his thoughts, and memories. Lost to happier days.

It should be raining.

"Are you alright Arthur?" Michelle, a girl sitting next to him, asked.

"Yes, I'm alright. It's just raining."

She looked up at the clear sky, puzzled. "It is?"

He nodded, as tears ran down his cheeks. "It is."

A/N: So, there it is. Not as good, in my opinion, but you guys wanted more of this. There is one more planned one-shot in this "series" That last bit was inspired by FMA. I own nothing.