Okay! In this chapter you have USxUK, Arthur-angst, and themes of friendship. Anyway, during International Studies today, my lecturer was all like, "Even though America broke away from England, they still maintained a close relationship later on..."

And I was like, "Oh, yes. More than you would ever know." Then I proceeded in doing more Hetalia USxUK-centric doodles, feeling like a dorky moron.

Btw, Season Five of Hetalia? My life is now COMPLETE! Anyway, enjoy the chapter!

Arthur felt himself sinking deeper and deeper into nothingness.

Years ago, the fire had surrounded him, engulfing and destroying. Those flames had burned and charred, scarring Arthur with painful memories that he could never forget.

And now…

The icy water was everywhere, seemingly intent on smothering him with its cold. Arthur's limbs felt like pieces of lead – he tried to move, to swim, to break free from anything and everything that seemed to weighing him down –

How ironic, he thought. There probably wasn't such a great difference between water and fire after all.

It didn't matter which element it was – water and fire were both the same. They consumed greedily, trapping, imprisoning –

If fire didn't kill him, then perhaps water would. Since the fire took away everything he had to believe in, then perhaps the water could take his life away too.

Arthur closed his eyes and stopped struggling, ignoring the way his body protested at the lack of oxygen. He took in a breath, only to feel the water sear through his lungs like fire.

How it burned. How it hurt.

Burning, drowning, hurting –

But if death could take away his sins, then…

That was when Arthur felt a strong arm loop around his waist, forcibly dragging him upwards. Startled, Arthur snapped his eyes open – only to see determined blue gaze back at him.

No, Arthur thought, just leave me be! He shoved at Alfred's chest weakly, trying to wriggle out of his hold. Let go of me. Just let me die. Let me…

Alfred's hold merely tightened. He shook his head slowly at the Brit, using his other free arm to grab Arthur into an embrace.

I'm not leaving you. I don't know why you want to die, but I'm not letting you go.

Arthur's eyes widened in surprise, momentarily ceasing his struggling. With that, Alfred used all his strength and everything he had learned from swimming class to his advantage. He kicked with all his might, cursing the fact that the Beilschmidts had a Olympic-sized pool at their backyard. Finally, he broke free from the water with a splash, with Arthur still pressed tightly against his chest.

Alfred had Arthur out of the water in seconds, sprawling him out on the grass. A crowd had gathered around and Gilbert was shouting about getting a doctor, but Alfred knew that there was no time to waste. The American knelt by Arthur's side, placing a finger at his neck.

Yes, that was definitely a pulse. Alfred breathed hard, a wave of relief spreading through him.

Ludwig ran over, something fluffy in his hands. "Here, use this."

Alfred grabbed hold of the thick towel, carefully placing it over the Brit. Arthur's body was freezing, and the word hypothermia flashed past Alfred before he could help it. That was when he felt more panic rise within him – why wasn't Arthur opening his eyes? Was Arthur unconscious? Could he be going into shock?

The American's fingers shakily went to Arthur's face, pushing away the wet, blond bangs that now lay plastered on the Brit's pale face. He traced the contours of Arthur's face, willing for him to be okay, to be okay –

"A-Alfred?"

Alfred blinked and gazed back into mesmerizing emerald, ignoring the fact that their faces were merely inches away from each other. "Arthur…Arthur, are you okay? How d'you feel?"

Arthur was in no condition to reply. He coughed up mouthfuls of water before proceeding to empty the contents of his stomach over the grass, fingers digging into mud as he did. Alfred rubbed a comforting hand over Arthur's back, whispering comforting words to him.

Finally, Arthur stopped heaving. He panted and shivered violently, limbs trembling from the chilly London air. Alfred wrapped the towel over the Brit's head, ensuring that Arthur was swaddled as warmly as possible.

"What h-happened? Where…?" Arthur asked weakly, attempting to stand but failing. Alfred caught him, arms warm and supportive. "Bloody blazes…my limbs were never this w-weak."

"You nearly drowned. That's what you get for storming away before allowing people a chance to explain."

"L-let go of me, you…wanker."

"That's what you sorta indicated to me in the pool too," Alfred whispered. His voice was soft, but Arthur could detect the barely concealed anger behind it. The Brit flinched, remembering what had happened.

He had attempted to push Alfred away in the water, had attempted to let eternal slumber take over...

"Ve, Arthur! Are you feeling alright?" Feliciano asked.

Choosing this moment to ignore Alfred, Arthur focused on answering Feliciano's question instead. "I'll be fine. D-Don't worry."

"Get into the house. You can stay for the night," Gilbert said brusquely. Ignoring Arthur's protests, he continued, "Don't worry about Peter. I've called Tino and Berwald. They agreed to accompany and keep watch over him."

Tino and Berwald…? They were a pair that Arthur had known well until he had chosen to shut himself away. Arthur vaguely recalled that they did indeed have a soft spot for Peter, and was fleetingly grateful that Gilbert had made such a wise selection.

"I'll get your room ready," Ludwig muttered. "Bruder, handle the rest of our guests."

"Ja, ja." Gilbert spun to meet the small crowd who had gathered around before shouting, "Alright, show's over! Anyone up to challenging the awesome me to a game of poker?"

The atmosphere gradually returned to normal, with the tension breaking out into choruses of rowdy laughter once more. They no longer paid Alfred and Arthur any attention, to which both were thankful for.

"Well," Alfred said with a sigh, "Let's get you warmed up then."

While Arthur had been forced into a hot shower again for the second time in the night, Alfred made his way to the kitchen, eager for a hot drink. The American was feeling pretty tired himself – he had plunged headfirst into the pool without a second thought, after all.

Through a strange twist of fate, he had somehow managed to become something of a hero for the night. He hated the circumstances of it, though. Alfred recalled how Arthur had tried refusing his help in the pool, instantly feeling a wave of anger course through him.

How could Arthur not want to live?

Arthur, who had been acting so snippily in front of everyone earlier on, had looked…vulnerable. It was a look that was filled with hopelessness, a look that Alfred knew the Brit rarely showed. He sighed, grabbing the instant hot chocolate mixes from a cabinet. Alfred rather liked the taste of it during times like these – perhaps Arthur wouldn't mind one, too.

"That was totally awesome of you!"

Alfred turned to see the albino standing behind him, a Cheshire grin on his face.

"Gilbert? Aren't ya' gonna entertain your guests?"

"They're despairing over their money-loss to the awesome me, so I'm just giving them some space," Gilbert said with a shrug. "Anyway, as I was saying, you were awesome. Totally saved Brit-boy's ass there, man."

Alfred gave Gilbert a tired smile. "Just did what I had to do. Y'know, hero's code of conduct and all."

For the first time in the night, Gilbert looked a little guilty. "I was hoping that Arthur would have an awesome time tonight. Sure wasn't expecting this to happen…"

Alfred took two mugs and filled them with chocolate powder and warm milk before beginning to stir. "How long have you known him, Gilbert?"

"We've known him before the fire that took the Kirklands occurred," Ludwig interrupted. Feliciano sidled up next to him, a faraway look on his childlike face.

Alfred could see Kiku, Francis, Romano, Antonio, and even Yao making their way over to join the conversation. He hadn't been aware that so many people knew who Arthur was.

"Ve, we were all high school buddies! Right, fratello?"

"He was a grouchy bastardo," Lovino grumbled. "But I admit that he had good ideas sometimes, being the Student Council president and all."

Yao folded his arms. "He had a great mind, aru. The teachers loved him."

Alfred managed a weak smile. Somehow, he could imagine Arthur as a studious, stodgy leader – making sure that his grades were top-notch, and that his uniform was always pressed to perfection. It wasn't any wonder that he would be the teachers' pet – students like these nowadays were rare, after all.

"It was so fun to tease him, oui?" Francis asked with a smirk, slinging his arms over Antonio and Gilbert. "We three were the best troublemakers in school, and Arthur always 'ad his hands full handling us."

"Kesesese! My tricks were always awesome. I know I got him good with those water balloons!"

Ludwig sighed. "Bruder..."

"Kiku had to make sure that Arthur didn't lose his temper all the time," Francis said with a chuckle. "Right, Kiku?"

Kiku, who had remained silent, decided that this was his cue to speak up. "Hai. I was in the Student Council too. Rife then was very…" He paused, trying to find the right word. "…Interesting."

"Rife? Oh, life. Did things change after…" Alfred hesitated, "The fire?"

He was met by a period of silence. Feliciano's bubbly expression dissolved into a sad smile and he clutched Ludwig's hands tightly, the tiny curl on his head trembling. Lovino huffed uneasily, refusing to look at Alfred in the eye.

That bad, huh?

"We saw it on ze news," France said, shaking his head sadly. "The footage was awful – all the smoke, flames and chaos..."

"And then Arthur – he just disappeared. He resigned from his post, stopped coming to school, and just disappeared. It was…how long was it again? Six months?" Ludwig muttered.

"It was a year," Kiku confirmed. "He reft without saying a word. No one knew where he went, or how he and Peter were doing. We graduated and were all accepted into the same university together, except the three of you…" Kiku trailed off, looking towards Lovino, Feliciano and Antonio.

"Because the two of us decided to open an Italian restaurant, ve? It was so nice of you to help us out too, Antonio!"

"Of course!" Antonio said, grinning. "Ouch, Lovi! Why'd you hit my head for?"

"You're useless all the time, tomato bastard! Since when have you ever helped us?"

"And then?" Alfred asked, refusing to allow the topic of Arthur to stray away. "What happened after that? How did you all come to find him again?"

"It was a coincidence that we met Arthur again during orientation week. We freaked out, didn't we?" Gilbert said, nudging France.

"Oui, but we knew it was definitely 'im – no one else has eyebrows that large."

Alfred chuckled, knowing that Francis had a point. He had only noticed how large Arthur's eyebrows were not too long ago – Arthur's shaggy blond bangs had otherwise hid most of it away earlier on in the night. The American thought that they were monstrously adorable, arching over Arthur's eyes in a weird fashion.

"We went to talk to him," Antonio said. "But Arthur just wasn't the same anymore."

Alfred perked up. "What d'you mean?"

"It means exactly as I said, amigo. Arthur had become a different person."

"Yeah," Gilbert groaned, rolling his eyes. "It was totally unawesome! He didn't seem excited to see us. None of my awesome jokes worked on him!"

"Aiya, it too strange, aru! He responded to us in civil manner like before, but it was not the same. He acknowledged us, but…"

"But it lacked warmth," Francis stated matter-of-factly. "It just wasn't the same Arthur. The Arthur years ago was brash and sarcastic, but he always treated us as friends. Now, he's just somebody that we used to know."

"Arthur? Arthur, is that you?" Francis asked. There was no way he could have been mistaken – that blond hair, those eyebrows that stood out even in the crowd, that proud, English gait – it could only be one person! "Arthur!"

Said person didn't even blink. He merely stared at the excited Frenchman, hands placed stiffly at a side. "Francis," he said, as a way of greeting.

France clapped his hands together in excitement, a broad smile on his face. "Mon ami, Arthur, it 'as been far too long!"

"Indeed…" Arthur muttered, fumbling around with the books in his hands. "Perhaps it has."

"Oi, Francis! What the hell's taking you so long?" Gilbert shoved past the people, ignoring how they looked at him in distaste. "Who's that you talking t – wait, Arthur?" The albino's garnet eyes widened into two miniature moons as he gaped at Arthur, pointing an accusing finger at him.

"ARTHUR!" Antonio bellowed, jogging over and slinging an arm around the man's shoulders.

"It's Arthur, aru!"

"Good afternoon, Arthur-san."

"Sehr gut to see you again, Arthur."

"How 'ave you been?" Francis asked. "It was no fun graduating without you!"

"Congratulations on graduating," Arthur commented slowly, shrugging Antonio's arm away. "I am…alive and kicking, as they say."

Kiku gave Arthur a gentle smile. "Now that you are here, we can go back to the happy days again."

Arthur didn't smile back. He cast a swift glance to the eager faces – France, Antonio, Gilbert, Yao and Kiku were all smiling, happy to see him again. Each of them looked so hopeful – Arthur could practically envision them holding out their hands, inviting him to be with them once again.

But it had been too long, Arthur thought, far too long. Too much had changed in just that period of time. Return? Where to? To the happy days that he had long given up?

It was impossible. He couldn't. He just couldn't.

Arthur turned, walking away. He never saw how Kiku and Ludwig's normally stoic expressions changed into that of sadness, never saw how despondent Francis had looked. Arthur never saw how that simple action of his hurt the hearts of the people he knew, never saw how much he meant to them, never saw how much they were willing to be there for him.

With that, Arthur shut his heart to a faraway place where it could never again be reached.

Arthur put on the clean shirt he was provided with, feeling his head pound. The warm shower had calmed him somehow, but Arthur could still feel his limbs shaking like that of a child's. He let out a slew of profanity, willing himself to rein back some form of control over his body.

Coming to this party was not part of the plan. Not being able to hold his liquor was not part of the plan. Falling into a pool and needing someone to save him like a princess was definitely not part of the plan.

He hated it.

He fucking hated it.

And then there was Alfred Jones. Arthur didn't like him one bit – that heroic streak of his was irritating. Arthur couldn't forget how Alfred had rescued him – his arms had been so firm, gripping Arthur like he was the most important thing in the world.

Which was utterly ridiculous, of course. No one ever loved, or treasured, the broken.

There was a click and a smiling Alfred appeared in the doorway, two mugs of steaming hot chocolate in his hands.

"Here ya' go, Artie! One hot chocolate, coming right up!"

"It's Arthur," the Brit retorted. Still, he accepted the mug gratefully and took a sip, feeling himself relax at the taste of freshly-brewed hot chocolate. It was made just the way he liked it, with enough milk to match.

Alfred gulped his own share down, watching Arthur carefully from the corner of his eye. "Like it?"

The Brit ignored him, but Alfred could see some of the tension ebbing away from the Brit. His shoulders had visibly relaxed, and the bewildered expression on his face had transformed into something of contentment.

Good, Alfred thought, because I want to make this as easy as possible.

"Arthur."

Arthur looked up and acknowledged Alfred with a slight nod, noting how serious the American had sounded all of a sudden. He felt his heart thump a little faster – this couldn't be anything good.

"We need to talk."

Well, shite.

Arthur's mates should all just go like, "Now you're just somebody that I used to know..."

Please remember to drop a review! Tell me what you thought about the chapter! :)

- Anne