His red bleary eyes were no longer defiant or determined, but broken and distant. He was curled up into a ball on the cold cement floor, weeping like a baby. He felt so goddamn sick, laying in his own urine, stomach hollowed out.

What did he do to deserve this? To be treated this way? The man knew he was a troublemaker, a loudmouth, and a fuck up. But for fuck sake, no human being should be treated this way! He sucked in his lips as his breath hitched; his own sobs were only new forms of torture. He used to think he was invincible, untouchable, and strong. What happened to that man he used to be?

His white hair was thinning from the lack of nutrients, and his skin was gleaming with blisters and bruises. He could see his reflection in the mirror that was placed parallel to him, another form of mockery.

Slowly, he began to ease up off of the floor. His legs wobbled and his hands shook as he hunched up to face the mirror. The man he once knew was gone. Replaced with nothing but a ghost, a caged bird….

He screamed. He screamed so loud that he was sure he heard it. He then pushed the mirror away from his sight and listened to it shatter into a million pieces. Suddenly he could hear heavy footsteps headed his way.

Good. He mused. Do your worse. Let me die. And just like that, with the swing of a door, his life was relinquished. And finally, he could rest.

xxxxxxxx

The silence crept around Alfred's ears as he stared blankly through the shop window. His lips formed a line, and he sighed. He woke up with a wine induced headache, and felt sick to his stomach. Not imagining just how far the poker game would go, he woke up that morning hanging off half of the couch with a chip bowl over his head. Everything felt so damn fuzzy, and as he slowly pushed himself off the floor he found the living room to be in total disarray.

The poker table was flipped over, the couch cushions thrown in various spots, and the curtains were well on the ground. Were we robbed? Alfred initially thought as he took in his surroundings. He soon realized everything was fuzzy because his glasses were missing, along with his shirt…? Alfred soon groped around the floor in a desperate search for his glasses. He finally located them in the furthest corner of the room. What the fuck did they do last night?

God, Arthur was going to scream like a little girl when he sees this place. Speaking of which, where was Arthur? Alfred dragged his feet to Arthur's room, he probably had a worse headache then he did. Somebody like Arthur should never drink. Alfred reached Arthur's room and pushed open the door ever so quietly. What he saw disturbed him more than anything.

There was Arthur alright, but who was holding him in their manly arms was none other than the frog himself! Alfred quickly shut the door and hurriedly headed into the shower and began to get ready for work. He did not want to be there when they both woke up. So he got dressed, left Arthur a mocking note, and flew out the front door before either of them could stir from their slumber. He would be a liar if he said he didn't find it funny, even if it was a tad disturbing as well.

So there Alfred stood, behind the counter dully waiting for customers to enter his shop. He wondered what Arthur was going to say to him. If the man would altogether deny it or just act like it never happened. God how was Francis going to react? Alfred hoped to God the man would spare him details. Suddenly the shop door rang and entered Alfred's little Japanese friend from the comic shop Kiku.

"Hey dude! Wild night huh?" Alfred excitedly yelled out as Kiku approached the counter.

"Hello Alfred-san. Yes, it was quite…the eye opener." Kiku almost appeared embarrassed as he scanned the store for any customers who may be listening in but discovered no one in the shop. "Slow day?"

"Man, no one comes in on a Sunday! Except that Russian guy I was telling you about.." Alfred combed his hair with his fingers and heaved a sigh. "I have the worse headache man. What in the hell happened last night?"

"Well.." Kiku hesitantly began as he twiddled his thumbs. "You, Arthur, and Francis were a bit intoxicated by the end of the poker game and began challenging each other to different contest to prove who was the strongest…" Kiku's eyes flickered away from Alfred's and remained glued on the today's special sign.

"And I totally won right?" Alfred interjected. Kiku turned red. "Right?"

"Well you banged your head against the table and passed out. And then what happened between Arthur and Francis…I shall not repeat. I left quickly after."

"Dude! I saw them in the bed asleep together!" Alfred shouted not understanding why Kiku was being so discreet about this, no one was in the store. Kiku jumped back and his face paled as the image entered his head.

"Do you…think?" He quietly questioned.

"I hope not. But if they did, it's funny." Alfred retorted. Before Kiku could question the humor in the situation, the shop door chimed and entered a huge man with platinum blond hair. "Oh hey bro!" Alfred called out as the Russian man headed towards the counter. Kiku was stunned to see that the Russian actually existed; his eyes studied the towering man up and down.

"Hello comrade," The man responded in a thick Russian accent.

"Excuse me," Kiku bowed politely. "I should be going back to my shop. I will see you another time Alfred-san."

"Hey, maybe I can come over your place tonight to avoid Arthur?" Alfred asked with puppy dog eyes.

"Well I don't know, it is rather messy and…"

"Great! I will head right over after I close up the shop!" Alfred interrupted. Kiku cringed at how Alfred invited himself, but didn't say anything. He was a bit of a pushover and someone like Alfred was pretty pushy. He disregarded the rude behavior Alfred displayed and nodded.

"Okay, I will see you then." He then quietly headed out the door, not taking his eyes off of the Russian man. There was something, well, strange about his disposition. He gently shut the door and trotted off to his shop.

"Sorry about that man, he's my store buddy. What can I get you?"

"Store buddy?" The Russian artist inquired.

"Yeah he owns the comic shop three stores down. We just had a mad game of poker last night and were talking about it." Alfred cheerily explained.

"Sounds like fun." The Russian was seething inside; he didn't like this Japanese man at all.

"Oh yeah! But things got way too crazy. So what can I get you?"

"Coffee. Black." He responded with stern eyes. Alfred of course didn't pick up on the Russian's change in attitude and began making the coffee.

xxxxxx

Kiku hung around his shop even after it was closed. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't feel comfortable with that hulking man being alone with Alfred. Perhaps Kiku was being discriminatory towards the man's height and strange appearance, but despite such, Kiku wasn't leaving until he saw that man leave.

The man did have some sort of dark presence, a bone chilling aura that told Kiku he should be weary of him. He wondered if Alfred sensed it at all? Probably not, the man was pretty dense. So Kiku sat there quietly in his shop, occasionally stealing a glance out the window to be sure nothing bad was going down.

What was it about this man that made him feel so suspicious? Kiku couldn't put his finger on it, but he was almost positive that there was reason why he felt this way. He cleaned the store and re-organized the comics as he waited patiently for Alfred to close the shop. He almost considered calling Arthur until he remembered what happened last night. He cringed at the thought.

That's when Kiku noticed the Russian man walking past his store, his eyes filled with disdain and glaring intensely at Kiku. Kiku returned the glare with a blank one and watched as the man disappeared into the horizon. He would have to discuss this with Alfred.

xxxxx

Ivan was furious with his newest bird. The rage was imminent in his painting as he basically scraped the paint brush against the canvas. That Jap was going to get in the way of his plan. Fuck. He stared at his painting briefly as he stopped to contemplate what must be done. Well, obviously he would have to get Alfred at a very vulnerable time. One where he knew the man would be alone and nowhere near that nosey friend of his.

"Store buddy." The Russian spat as he took another brush stroke. What kind of term of endearment? Why must his pet be so blind? He was to be Ivan's obviously, and the boy should realize that. Ivan stepped away from his painting feeling disgusted with the work and headed towards the bathroom. He needed a shower.

As the hot water sloshed over him, Ivan thought about his last pet. His Gilbird. The man was not an easy one to get, but his checkered past proved to be of use as Ivan held a promise of drugs over the man's head. He almost felt too good when he watched the news report about the police discovering his body, and laughed drunkenly when his brother held that press conference.

When were they going to realize that the man died on his own terms? Ivan merely granted his wish…Ivan slid down the tile and stared out blankly as the hot water beat against his skin. He couldn't get Alfred just yet, he needed more time. The man combed his wet hair with his fingers and thought deeply about this. He licked his lips as he began to think about how much fun he was going to have with his new bird.

And then, Ivan will finally have inspiration to paint again.

AN: Just noticed a huge fluke with the time continuum…This story takes place in '97, but Harry Potter wasn't around yet…So it's a little conflicting with the first chapter where Arthur sends Francis the Harry Potter frogs..Sorry I took FOREVER to update. I had a lot of shit going on…sorry guys…R&R!