A/N: Thank you for the feedback so far, guys. That includes reviews, putting this on story alert and adding it to your favourites. I really appreciate it!

I have decided what I'm going to do with chapters now, so disregard that last A/N. Basically, every chapter will be told from one view point (unless there's a reason why there should be two) and thus chapters will range from long to short. This could mean there'd be a lot more than 20 chapters like I said...

Ceena936: Aww, I'm honoured! This made my day! Thank you~


The Only Hero is You
Chapter One: Doubts

Arthur

I stare longingly out the café window and watch as the snowflakes delicately fall to the ground, covering the street in a blanket of snow. I put my hand onto the glass subconsciously and the corners of my mouth rise, turning into an expression that vaguely resembles a smile.

I watch as a gaggle of children build a snowman across the street. Even from here, I can see that they are laughing, giggling, smiling, having all the fun in the world. They're carefree; they don't have to deal with the outside world just yet. They see the world through a fun, young perspective. They're as optimistic as can be; the glass is half full to them.

I sigh. I wish I could be like them. I wish I could be back in my own refuge, my own sanctuary, instead of here. It's been so long since I was last outside and at least making an effort to socialise, to belong in the real word. It doesn't feel refreshing at all, although I know it should. It's barely passable. I wear a mask and I hide behind a facade – I look happy, don't I? Inside, I feel dead.

The feelings inside are insufferable, hard to bear, and I wear them like a locket that is too tight and suffocating me. All of me.

I rest my hands on the cup of tea I have in front of me, not caring that it's still hot and burning my hands. I don't care that it may blister. The physical pain it is bringing me does not compare to the internal pain within. On the outside, I am numb, motionless, appearing like a robot. On the inside, it is too complicated for words.

Even if I know the directions, I still feel lost. Even if I am smiling and my eyes may be sparkling, I am far from happy. It's a long, winding road I'm getting bored of. I cannot walk anymore.

I'm too numb. My legs are numb.

If life is a journey, where is the destination? Death?

I do not wish to dwell on such a thing, because I'm fine now. I recovered, didn't I? They helped me and they showed me that it's not so bad and it does get better, didn't they?

I sigh once again, exasperated. I rest my head in my now scarlet hands and close my eyes, hoping I am able to drift away. I haven't forgotten how to enter my mythical world, have I? I would be very disappointed if I have.

I don't want to live in this world anymore. I want to live in a fantasy, full of magic, full of unicorns, full of creatures unknown on Earth. I can be free, I can be happy. Nothing can bother me there.

Suddenly, I feel a tap on my shoulder. It shocks me like electricity and I almost jump straight out of my skin. With my head still in my hands, I turn and look up. I can see a figure standing over me. It is a person, regrettably, no younger than me and he is smiling. I'm envious already! I do not wish to speak to this young man.

"Hey...dude, are you okay?" he asks me, his sapphire eyes sparkling with curiosity. His accent is undoubtedly an American one, which is odd – I am affirmative that I live in London. "You look kinda lonely and down."

I scoff. That's not even half of the emotions swimming through my veins. However, how do I express that? Through facial expressions, through body gestures, through words? Either way, it's a very difficult procedure. I do not know this man. What is his name, what is his story, why is he here?

Why does he care for me? More importantly, why should he?

"It is nice of you to be concerned," I smile politely at him, hoping he wouldn't think of me as unapproachable. It wouldn't be the first time someone has thought that about me, however. "But I assure you that I am fine. I am...tired, that is all. Thank you, anyway."

He raises a skeptical eyebrow. I can tell he does not believe me. I don't blame him, it is fairly obvious that I'm lying. I may not be a thespian, but I am wearing a mask. I may not act for a living, but I do pretend to be alright.

"Um...alright," he replies after a short while. That curious spark in his eyes has vanished and has been replaced with doubt and uncertainty instead. He shoots me an incredulous look before reluctantly turning away. I watch him silently as he returns to his table before returning to dreaming and dazing out of the window.

Maybe if I dream hard enough and maybe if I have faith, I can be like those children. I can be like that lad who approached me. I can be the dreaded 'h' word.

You can do anything if you try. Absolutely anything. That's what they told me.

But I do not believe them.

I never believed them.

I sip my tea, which is rapidly cooling down, and keep my gaze on the empty seat opposite. How delightful it would be if that seat was filled! I could interact with another human; maybe they could be a significant other if I truly trusted them. How wondrous it would be!

As wonderful and sublime as it may seem, it is still miles away from here. How far is near, anyway? It is not in my sights, it is in the distance. I cannot reach out and grab it. I can dream. That's all I can ever do. Dream – my solution to everything. That's all I need. Dreams, imagination...

The Beatles were wrong. I'll get by with a little help from my imagination, not my friends. I don't need friends! I am fine with isolation. I am content with the solitude I have willingly brought upon myself, and I am content with the walls I single handily built by myself. They are made of an indestructible material that nobody can break down. There are no doors – you cannot enter. My heart has a padlock on it and only I have the key. Only I have it, nobody else.

The true me is the me no one will be allowed to witness at any time.

I promised myself to not grow attached to anyone. It is not worth the heartbreak.

Through the corner of my eye, I watch the American again. I am intrigued by him for some reason I cannot seem to fathom. I don't even know his name, why is he so fascinating? Is it the way he moves, is it his composure? His demeanour, his happy-go-lucky attitude? Maybe it is my jealousy getting the better of me.

I look down disappointedly at my empty cup and leave it on the table for the cleaning staff to take and wash up. Lazy? Probably. But that is their job, is it not?

Without thinking, I find myself walking over to the boy. Tentatively I tap him on the shoulder as his back is to me and I wait awkwardly as he turns around. He looks surprised at first, but soon smiles. I have no choice but to fake a smile back.

"Oh...you again," he sounds less than happy to see me, but nevertheless greets me. Upon closer inspection, it appears to me that he works here.

"Hello," I greet him. Feigning stupidity, I ask him, "Are you a member of staff?"

His smile transforms almost immediately into a grin. "I sure do! You need any help?"

"No, thank you," I tell him bluntly. I need an excuse to talk to him. "I am just here to inform you that I have finished my tea and I shall be leaving. It was lovely, by the way."

He nods as I speak, I noticed.

"Alright, dude!" his voice obnoxiously rises by a few decibels. He truly is American! "I'll clear it up. And thanks! You alright?"

"Better," I lie. I don't feel any better if I'm honest. "It'll be a while before I can truly classify myself as 'alright'."

He looks bemused. Maybe it's because I am so formal, and he is not? I am so eloquent, and he is so casual. I feel as if we are parallel and getting along would be like mixing chocolate with chilli. It just does not and will never work.

"That sucks. Want me to cheer you up?" his smile that seems to be permanently plastered on his face has dropped slightly. His tone is sympathetic somehow.

I sigh and my sad smile mirrors his perfectly. I rest one hand on his shoulder.

"Mate, that may prove to be quite a difficulty," I inform him. He tilts his head to the side like a dog. I can tell that he is lost in this conversation.

"Why?" he questions. Well, why not? Must every action have an explanation behind it?

"It is a very complicated story," I warn him. Truth is, I am not ready to tell anybody just yet. I do not know this man. I do not even know myself.

I know it is a common excuse, but it's how I truly feel. I'm too inept to tell him that, though, and I may end up resisting. With eyes like his, it is hard to not give in and surrender.

Thankfully, he respects this. "Alright. The name's Alfred, in case you were wondering."

What a mind reader! Of course, I am not going to admit that I was wondering.

"Hello, Alfred," I greet him, still trying to keep this forced smile on my face. I have a fear it may soon fall off. It does not have a reason to be there. "I suppose I should tell you my name. I am Arthur, it is a pleasure to meet you."

"You too," he answers, his smile suddenly returning and reaching his ears. "Hi, Arthur."

I can feel the atmosphere surrounding us turn awkward almost instantly as I do not know how to continue the conversation. I clear my throat to at least break some of the silence.

Although even the silence is loud, and I can never seem to fit a word in edgeways.

"So, you gonna be back here tomorrow?" he inquires, his intrusive sparkle and tone gradually creeping back. "Since you love the tea you had and all."

"I hope so," I tell him, although I am sure that is just a lie too. Not certain, but it is a high probability. With me, I have lied so compulsively that I do not know when I am telling the truth or just spewing poppycock again.

"See ya then."

He turns his back to me, evidently ending the conversation. I walk away and out the door, suddenly hit by a wave of ice. I hug myself to keep warm; my coat is simply not enough. As warm and large as it may be, it just isn't enough.

See ya then.

Oh, Alfred, how oblivious you are! Ignorance truly is bliss.

Why do I say that?

Because I may choose to end it all.

I was pulled out of my world too quickly. I cannot return. There's a chance that I can try, but it's fat.

Why, oh why, did I seek help? I did not need it! I was happy, wasn't I? The sound of my screams and tears would be my wakeup call almost every morning, but that doesn't mean anything, does it?

I'm pulling the plug.

I just cannot do this anymore.


A/N: ;n;

Next chapter shall be Alfred's views on all of this, plus a little update here on poor Artie.

I really like writing depressing things about suicide for some reason. It's kinda creepy if you ask me...they just seem to be right in my comfort zone.

Just a little piece of trivia: I have based most of this chapter, if not the whole story, on the song Imaginary by Evanescence, and Arthur preferring to be in his own little world is based on a character called Lynette in a book we read in English. I quite like what the author did with her and I want to use some aspects in Arthur, since I can see a lot of her in him (or him in her...wait, that sounds kinda pervy.)

Ahem! I am drawing this chapter to a close. Please feel free to review, add to favourites, alert or drop me a line and chat. I'm not forcing you to (okaymaybeIam OTL), but it'd be lovely if you do. I'd be happy, very happy~

Thank you! Iggymonster/Tiaah out.

Hasta la Pasta~!