Hey guys, it's me! I have decided to write this chapter in Arthur's point of view. I remembered that this fic was supposed to a USUK fic, but my friend told me that it was beginning to seem like a RusPrus fic. I'm sorry if it seemed like that, I might have gone a bit overboard with the Rusprus because I just don't find a lot of them. Anyway, we left of with Gilbert watching Arthur almost kill someone. I am still sticking to my story: I do like Ludwig

Warning: mentions of Depression/ Stranger danger/ sexual assault

Chapter: 7

Arthur woke up in the nurse's office alone. The lights were off and everything was silent, except for the occasional creak of his bed. Where is everybody? Arthur turned his head and grimaced, a shooting pain travelling throughout his body. "Bloody fuck" he groaned as he gripped the back of his head, touching the general area of his stitches. The last thing I remember is breathing in that gas… "Well whatever, I should go home" he whispered to himself. He sat up slowly, taking in deep breaths, trying to ignore the pain coursing through his body. By the time he actually sat up, all his energy was spent and he could only sit there, staring at the white wall. He said he'd stay with me.

Arthur's mind drifted back to the American for the second time that day. Arthur woke up being carried by people he couldn't recognize at first, and the first thing he could do was growl. Before he passed out, he heard a shot fire, and he felt her loosen her grip. So the first thoughts that came to his mind was finding Nancy, praying that she was okay. Then, when the man holding his left arm told him that he was going to the Nurse's office, Arthur began to panic, eyes stinging with tears of distress. I hate needles, and the sight of blood makes me absolutely ill. He began to thrashing, particularly aiming at the people holding his feet so they would drop his legs. He wasn't counting on all of them to drop him, in fact, he hurt his arm during the fall. Alas, Arthur had a mission, he had to make sure Nancy was safe, so he began crawling as quickly as possible. He heard his captors call to him, telling him that Nancy was fine, but he didn't believe them. I know what I saw. However, it was when one of them yelled at him to stop and stood in his way did Arthur realize who it was. Arthur was relieved it wasn't some stranger, but he still had so many questions. The American replied in manner he had never heard from him, he had told the brit that he was the only thing that was important. This made the Englishman feel safer, it's true, but he still felt the need to defend the koala. He jumped on Alfred and sobbed on his chest, trying to convince him that the furry animal was the victim

Arthur felt the other lift him up, and he could only wrap his arms around his neck, too tired to fight anymore. When he saw the others approaching him, he tightened his grip around Alfred. The way they were holding me before made me uncomfortable. He then heard Antonio suggest getting the nurse's room fixed before he got there and the three ran off. It left Alfred and Arthur in an intense awkward silence as Arthur tried to fight his nerves. The American must have felt it because he started talking about random things, trying to get the brit's mind away from their destination. It worked actually, and the two were giggling the whole way. Arthur would have to occasionally hide his blush when Alfred complimented him, or when another student walked by them. Arthur felt better, and he could have walked to the office, but Alfred made him feel safe. About half way there, Arthur voiced his fear of getting stitches, pleading with the American to take him home. Alfred said no, naturally, but he said he would be there every step of the way. Arthur blushed, redder than before, and a new feeling was making its way to his heart. He shrugged it off and thanked the American for the support. The topic changed towards the presidential debate somehow, and the American got less talkative. He only listened to Arthur talk about the candidates and their promises.

When they got to the office, the American placed the brit on the first bed he saw. Arthur didn't move his arms because it felt natural to have them around the other's neck. However, Antonio made a snide remark, and Arthur had no choice but to remove his hands, a blush plastered on his face. When he had noticed that he had lost Alfred's attention, he cleared his throat and continued their conversation. It's been a while since we had a conversation that wasn't an argument. Arthur placed his head on the other's shoulder, feeling better than he had in months. When Arthur was done with his rant, he asked for Alfred's opinion, and he was taken aback by his aggressive response. Arthur had to struggle to fight back tears, and he couldn't find the strength to remove his head from his shoulder. He heard Alfred apologize, and felt the other's chin rest on his head. He accepted the apology shakily, not sure about what he had said that upset the other so much. He felt the other try to lay him down, and Arthur tried to refuse. He wanted to stay in that position, Alfred's body heat warming his body the way a blanket never had.

When the American threw a cover over him he started giggling, but when the other joined him in bed, he instantly snuggled up against him. I have no idea what came over me, he must think I'm crazy. To the brit's surprise, Alfred embraced him in a hug, burying his chin on the top of Arthur's head. Arthur was tired, the American knew that, so Alfred started whispering sweet nothings in the Englishman's ear, making the tiny teen's cheek burn. Arthur whispered out the other's name in distress, afraid of what would happen when he woke. Alfred hushed him, and told him- no promised him- that he would be there for him, until Arthur was in good health. And with that Arthur fell asleep in the crook of his neck, unconsciously leaving soft kisses. He was woken up rudely by Antonio, who ripped Alfred away from him, leaving him cold. He saw the nurse with a needle, not particularly the ones he feared, but the idea of being stitched up with sewing equipment also terrified him. After hearing the other's threat of solitude in an unknown place, he gave in, allowing her to drug him. He swallowed blue pills and breathed in some gas from a tank. After that, everything is a daze.

Arthur hadn't noticed he was crying until he felt how wet his shirt was. That bloody American! He promised me he would stay. He told me every step of the way…

The brit laid back down on the bed, seeing no reason to leave until someone came to give him the permission to do so. In the dark room, all by himself, he couldn't help but think about the old thoughts of self-hate that used to plague him. 'Nobody loves you' it would say. It would keep him awake at night, telling him that he 'deserves to be alone' and that he's 'a waste of time'. It would make him feel numb, possess him into doing things that he would normally never do. He was angry all the time, he would smoke, get into fights, and ignore his responsibilities; he did all of these things to fight the numbness, but it didn't work. The only thing he could do to get rid of the empty feeling was to remind himself that he still felt pain, if not emotional, physical. He would often go to the bathroom and stare at himself in the mirror, tell himself that the voice in his head was right, that it was just saying what other people believed. He would call himself disgusting and he would slap himself across the face so hard his eyes would water. He would tell himself that nobody would care if he were gone, and that as long as his parents had Peter they would be fine. He would make eye contact with himself in the mirror, and only then did he stop. Only then did he break down and cry, holding himself as he dropped to the floor. He'd cry a day worth of tears until he passed out of either dehydration or exhaustion. He would always wake up in the same spot, cold and alone.

Arthur could feel the voice coming back, threatening to take everything from him. When Arthur first joined the tennis team, the voice became less frequent, the sport demanding all his time and energy. By his second year on the team, the voice had stopped completely, and he had never felt so free. Recently, however, the voice was starting to come back. It was a week ago during lunch, when he received a less than friendly voicemail from his father. The man had called his quiz grade pitiful, and that Peter could have done better. He told him that Arthur was tarnishing the Kirkland name, and that his older brothers left him a reputation of excellence he would have to keep up. Arthur called his father back, ready to defend himself. The man picked up, and Arthur could tell right away that he was drunk. He asked Arthur what the hell he wanted, and Arthur tried to explain his AP Chemistry grade. The father cut him off and told him that "Allister never received an 8o% on anything" and that "If Allister were still alive, I wouldn't care about your fucking grades". His father's words stung his heart, and Arthur, through habit, tried to apologize as if it were his fault. His father was really drunk; Slurring his words and making improper statements. Mr. Kirkland's thoughts were hazy, but he knew how to hurt the other. The father had said "You'd better fucking apologize you fucking wanker. If you hadn't killed your brother, my hair wouldn't be turning gray early!".

And with that the man hung up, leaving Arthur with tears pouring down his cheeks, his composure crumbling within seconds. Arthur ran to the nearest restroom and sobbed. The voice was weak, but it was still strong enough to scare Arthur. It told him that his father was right, and that Allister would still be alive if it weren't for him. Arthur stayed in the bathroom for at least an hour, not caring when someone tried to open his stall. Since then the voice had been getting stronger the more Arthur got disappointed. I really wanted him to be here, why did he leave me alone? What did I do?

Arthur felt more hot tears run down his wet cheeks. He pulled the covers over his head, just in case someone was to walk in. Maybe I crossed the line when I insulted his Congress. Should I apologize to him? But if he were mad about my opinion on congress he wouldn't have cuddled with me. "I don't know what I did?" he sobbed out loud, crying in utter confusion. He was crying for a good 3 minutes when a knock came from the door. "Who is it?" the sniffling brit said, not even trying to hide his sadness from his voice. Arthur could hear the door open, and through his blanket he could see five figures walk in. Arthur watched as one of them turned on the light. "Who are you people?" he said with a broken voice, still hiding his face. "Well maybe if you took the blanket off you would know" replied a sassy Italian voice. "Romano?" he asked in a small voice

"Yes" said the Italian as he gently pulled the blanket off of the other's face. The Italian had a curious look in his eyes, but when he noticed the brit's sad features he asked what happened. The Englishman instantly told him that it was nothing. The Italian sat down on Arthur's bed and held up some snacks, dangling them in the brit's face. "I know you're hungry, you haven't eaten yet. I'll give you some if you tell me what's wrong" the Italian said with a devilish smile. Suddenly, a pale hand snatched the bag of food away from Romano. Arthur looked up to see Ivan holding the bag, an indifferent look on his face. He handed the bag to the brit with a cold smile and spoke. "You don't need to tell us anything unless you want to, okay? Romano's just nosey" he said, while flicking Romano on the head. "Hey! I'm not nosey, I'm worried! You weren't here so you have no idea why I want to know!" the aggressive Italian said, kicking the other on the shin. Ivan, however, didn't really feel the kick and pinched the Italian on his left arm hard. "I watched the video Ludwig took, so I understand your concern. But bribing him is- "

"What video?" the brit asked, gently helping the hissing Italian pry the Russian's fingers off of his arm. Ivan let go with a chuckle, seeing how the two were getting nowhere. "Well, little muffin" the Russian started as he sat down beside the Italian. The brit rolled his eyes at the annoying nickname the Russian used, when did that become a thing? "There was a mix up in the drugs that the lady gave you. So the tablets, which she thought was Advil, was actually oxycodone. That mixed in with the Nitrous Oxide you had to breathe in made you extremely violent" Ivan said without a hint of emotion. "How violent?" Arthur asked, not wanting to know the answer. "This violent" said a scratchy voice from the front of the room. Arthur looked towards the speaker of the voice and saw, in horror, what he had done. He saw Antonio with bandages around his neck, and next to him he saw Alfred with a busted lip, a small bruise under his right eye and stitches right above his left eyebrow. The brit was speechless as he stared at his friends, tears threatening to fall again. "Did I… really do that?" he asked in disbelief. No way, they're just messing with me. I couldn't and wouldn't do much damage to them. "Yeah" said Antonio, the owner of the scratchy voice.

"You put Antonio in a choke hold and before that you almost killed Alfred with these" said a German accent from a closet. Arthur forced himself tear his gaze from the Spaniard and redirect to the fifth party.

He looked to see Gilbert with a Hershey bar in his mouth. However, Arthur's attention was stolen by the object in the albino's hand. It was the largest pair of scissors the brit had ever seen. It's bigger than the ones the maids used to tend to the gardens. It wasn't hard to imagine that as a murder weapon. In fact, murder was the only thing the scissor could probably do effectively. I almost killed Alfred. Arthur stared at the scissor for a minute before he couldn't take it anymore. "May I watch the video?" he asked with a shaky voice, not really happy about what he was learning. Alfred spoke up this time, taking fast strides towards the brit. "No, actually, I just think you need some rest." He said this with such authority that nobody, including Arthur, objected. Alfred didn't have his carefree face on, instead, he looked cold and detached, as if his body was empty and it was just working on autopilot. But Arthur wanted to know what he did to make the American appear this way. "But" the Englishman started, trying to find his courage. "No Arthur" Alfred said, his steely blue eyes staring right into the British man. Arthur could feel his face warm up and his eyebrows furrow. His eyes were stinging again, but he wouldn't let the tears fall.

"If I really did that to you and Antonio, I need to see for myself" Arthur said, looking the American in the eyes. "No, it's better if you didn't" the American replied as he handed the brit a book. Arthur read the book title aloud, confused about why he was getting this. "'Bernie Sanders: A Biography'? Why do I need this?" the brit asked, a bit annoyed. "I just learned that I tried to kill you, don't make this a joke!" the Englishman cried out, gently putting the book on the bedside table. Alfred only giggled, taking a seat on the bed beside the Russian, an ounce of his usual behavior coming back. Arthur smiled at the sound, but his curiosity was still getting the better of him. "What time is it?"

"About 7:30 PM" sighed Gilbert. He approached the tiny teen and ruffled his hair. "Hey!" the brit said swatting his hands away, as the German did his weird laugh. "I got to go Artie" he said with a small smile as he gathered his things. "You coming Ivan?" the albino asked, taking a selfie. Of course, the man can't stop taking selfies for more than a few hours. Arthur couldn't help but shift his gaze to and from Gilbert and Ivan, suddenly getting suspicious. "Where were you two when I assaulted our friends? Surely if you were there you would have just lifted me" Arthur whispered to the Russian giant's ear. Ivan stiffened for a second, before turning to face the Englishman and placing his lips a centimeter from Arthur's ear. "Gilbert and I went on a date in the city. We headed home maybe about 5 minutes in because he found out some troubling news" he said in a hushed voice, so low, Arthur could barely hear him. The brit's curiosity was peaked, "Was the troubling news the video Ludwig sent you?" the brit whispered back, heart beating loudly. The giant just shook his head in response. Arthur quirked his brows thinking, HMM, what could it be? W-wait, did he just say date? "Did you just say date? You and Gilbert are dating?!" the brit whispered with excitement, almost squealing.

Ivan stared at him with shock, a blush creeping on his face when he realized what he had said. "Don't tell anyone! I mean it Arthur" the Russian whispered in a threatening voice, but the brit knew it was empty. "You finally took my advice, huh?" the Englishman said louder than he intended. "What advice?" asked an unamused German. Arthur noticed the way Gilbert tried to smile, only to have it melt away into a frown. If Arthur hadn't known better, he would have thought that the German just wanted to know, but since Arthur knows that his friends are dating… I know he's just jealous. "Nothing…" the Russian said, standing up. He patted the brit on the head and gathered his stuff, ignoring his rambunctious boyfriend's imploring questions. "We'll be off then" said the Russian, making his way to the door.

"What were you talking about?" asked the American, still sitting in his spot. "Yeah" added the Italian, glancing back and forth between the brit and Russian. "You guys already know" said a deep voice as the door shut, leaving the remaining four in silence. "You guys already know?" asked the Spaniard with a hoarse voice. Hearing it made Arthur remember the horrible things he must have done, instantly making him feel guilty. "Antonio, I am so, so, so sorry for- "the brit started, but the chuckle that escaped the Spaniards lips made him stop. "It's not your fault, Arthur. That 'nurse' gave you the wrong drugs. We already wrote a complaint demanding that she lose her job. There is no reason to apologize" Antonio said with a smile, walking over to the smaller teen's bed. Arthur could only stare at his friends giving him friendly smiles, making him feel even worse. 'Look at you' the voice commanded, 'You're so pitiful that your friends have to pretend not to be upset'. Arthur tried to force the voice back, but the more he looked at their perfect, happy smiles, the worse it got. 'Look at Alfred' the voice commanded, and Arthur had no choice but to obey. 'Is he going to be able to play on Sunday? Are you that much of a lunatic that you would take the final game of the season away from him?' the voice snarled at him. I don't know

"Can you still play your rugby match on Sunday?" the brit asked with a small voice. The American stopped smiling for a moment, staring at the brit in confusion. "Rugby? Oh! You mean Football!" the American said with a cheery smile. Arthur almost smiled to, if it weren't for the fact that he saw the American wince. His face must still be in pain. "Uh, yeah. Football" the brit corrected himself. "Yep! The nurse said as long as I put ice on my face every 2 hours for 40 minutes, I won't be able to feel a thing!" the tanned teen said with such excitement. The Italian and the Spaniard started laughing, genuine laughs that Arthur only wishes he could make. He saw the Spaniard yawn, and the brit immediately told him to get some rest, that he should go home and relax, not waste any more time on him. Antonio was taken aback, and tried to tell the brit that he was fine, and that he could stay a couple of hours. "No" the brit had said firmly absent mindedly playing with Romano's hand. "And the two of you should go too" he added, looking at the American and Italian with pleading eyes, eyes that seemed to shout that he needed to be alone. So with that the three said their goodbyes and left, each leaving Arthur with a pat on the head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ Hetalia High~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Arthur was sure that they left, he began to cry again. Not because he of being alone, not even about what the voice had said earlier. He started crying because he felt cold. It was the middle of May, and no amount of blankets could make him warm, at least not in the way that he wants to be. His soul felt chilled, the knowledge he learned about himself today was enough to freeze him to the bone. I tried to kill my friends, the same people who would do anything for me. He made choked cries, calling himself a disgusting monster, an abomination, a spec of dirt in a basket of gold. I don't deserve to have friends like them. I don't deserve to have nice things; I don't deserve to be here at all! I shouldn't be here anyway! Allister should, and he would if it weren't for me. Father was right…

The Englishman sat up, feeling blood rush to his head. It hurt like hell, but Arthur felt he deserved the pain. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Well, at least he tried. His knees buckled the instant weight was placed on them and he fell. He stayed on the floor and cried, curling up into a fetal position as he did so when he was younger. When he was child, he would often cry in the middle of the night, so often that his parents moved him to the guest house, where he would cry his eyes out while his parents got a good night's rest. He was too old to play with Peter, but too young to keep up with Allister and his other older siblings so he would stay in the guest house alone. An occasional visit from Francis, but otherwise he virtually played with no one. Because he was homeschooled by the best tutors in the country, he didn't know kids his age he could socialize with, sealing his fate of solitude.

Arthur's thoughts were interrupted when the door creeped open. Arthur tried to look up, but he couldn't, his head suddenly feeling heavy. "Who is it?" the brit asked, hoping that it was a nurse coming in to tell him he had the permission to leave. This office is creepy. No reply came through, but Arthur did hear the door creak again. "Hello?" the brit asked with uncertainty. "Who are you?" he asked one more time after a few minutes of silence, crawling back towards the bed, suddenly finding his strength. These people aren't my friends. OH GOD, why did I send them away?! At this point, Arthur was ready to piss his pants, but he held it in and dug his phone from his pocket, ready to call 911. "Who is it?!" the brit called out one last time. "I'm calling the police- "

Suddenly, a force so strong hit Arthur on his lower back, he screamed out in agonizing pain. His hand fumbled his phone, and it slid under the bed, at least a foot out of his reach. He tried to crawl for it, but whoever his attacker was kicked, hard against his chest. "AHHHHHHHHH!"the brit screamed, tears pouring down his cheeks. He was turned over by his attacker, and it was no surprise that the assaulter had a black mask on. "Get off of me you bloody git!" Arthur yelled as he flailed, kicking and screaming, trying to squeeze his way out of the monster's grip. The attacker then pinned the thrashing brit, momentarily subduing him. Arthur watched in horror as the masked mad man ripped open his button down shirt, staring hungrily at his chest. "Now I know why he wants you…" the attacker grunted as he placed his lips on Arthur's nipples roughly. Oh god this can't be happening… The brit couldn't contain his tears as the attacker began undoing his pants. "Help" he cried at the top of his lungs, but the villain began to punch him repeatedly, telling him to shut up with each swing, gradually reducing the boy to whimpers. "Why are you doing this?!" Arthur sobbed out. "I'm gonna have my fun before I hand you off…" the perp said, more to himself than anyone else, getting ready to strike the injured Englishman again.

Then, suddenly, the door slammed opened and the lights turned on. Arthur heard familiar voices screaming and yelling. The attacker's grip loosened enough for the Englishman to free himself, panting and grunting as he tried to crawl under the bed for safety. The masked attacker flipped the bed towards Arthur's saviors. Arthur was about to crawl again, when he heard a gun cock. Arthur looked up to see a barrel of a gun pointed at his head, the attacker signaling him to stand. Arthur did not see any other way out of this, and the masked villain snatched him and positioned Arthur in front of him. He then placed the gun's barrel at the side of Arthur's head.

Arthur was blind with fear, but he could still hear pretty well. "What do you want?" asked a slow shaky voice. Arthur instantly recognized the voice and began to speak. "Alfred he- "he started, but the attacker fired a shot into the air, instantly silencing the brit. The attacker had his arm around the Englishman's waist, tightening his grip so much that Arthur could feel his lower half losing oxygen. "Stop! What do you want?!" the American asked, much more distress showing in his voice. Arthur's mind was blank; he couldn't think of a single reason why anyone would try to hurt him. In fact, he had no idea, how this man even got into the building, because he obviously wasn't a faculty member. "I want a safe exit to the outside, a way no security guard or cop can see me leave from. I also need a getaway vehicle that can hold two people" the attacker said, tapping the gun on the side of Arthur's head. Arthur's kidnapper had the voice of a blender, and his breath smelled like sewage. The brit couldn't help but gag, his insides telling him to vomit. "We mean in exchange for Arthur" said the American. Despite the shake in his voice, He sounded calm and reserved, as if he had a secret weapon.

"Well~, no. You see, the man who wants Arthur Kirkland is very powerful. And rich. Are you willing to pay me 4 million dollars?" he said with a sarcastic tone, rolling his eyes. "Who wants Arthur?" the American demanded. He took a threatening step towards the perpetrator, but then the attacker cocked his gun again, repositioning it at Arthur's neck, right beside his jugular. Oh my god Alfred, this is not the fucking time to be a hero. Why isn't anyone stopping him, I heard them yelling a second ago! Alfred kept on walking, however making his way towards the attacker, not one person making an objection. "Are you crazy, Alfred!? Stop approaching us or he'll kill me!" the Englishman said with tears streaming from his eyes. Oh god this is the bloody end. "Yeah! You listen to your friend, buddy, or I'll- "the attacker started, but suddenly a wild punch connected with his cheek. Everything began to move in slow motion for Arthur. He pulled the trigger, the bullet missing Arthur's head by an inch, shattering the office's stain glass window. The attacker lost his balance and he fell. Alfred grabbed Arthur and quickly threw him over his shoulder, running out of the room in haste. Arthur could hear the others' footsteps following them in a mad dash, everyone speaking in their language. Alfred stopped when they finally reached the main hall of the building, everyone panting for air.

The American slid the tiny teen off of his shoulder and set him gently on the ground, where the tiny teen instantly tried to crawl away. He made his way behind a marble column and buried his head in his knees, too afraid to make a sound. "Arthur? It's us, we aren't going to hurt you! You know that!" the brit heard Francis try to reason. I'm not afraid of you… The Englishman curled up in a tight ball and sobbed, he didn't care how loud he was doing it. The brit heard footsteps head towards him, and he lifted his head. He made eye contact with concerned blue eyes, but he instantly broke it, not wanting to see anyone. Don't look at me… the brit felt the American sit beside him and wrap his arm around the smaller teen. "Arthur… it's gonna be okay" he whispered in the Englishman's ear, gently nudging the brit's body into his, placing mournful kisses on the top of the tiny teen's head. Arthur heard the sorrow in the American's voice, and it only made the brit cry harder. Arthur allowed for his face to be buried in Alfred's chest gladly, wrapping his arms around the other's neck. "A-Alfred… h-he… h-he… he tried t-to"

Arthur tried to say, but even thinking of the act was enough to make him cry even harder. In response to Arthur's unspoken words, Alfred began running his fingers through Arthur's messy locks, whispering promises of safety and justice. Eventually, the brit began to relax enough for him to actually go to sleep, or pass out due to trauma. But before he was entirely lost to the dream scape, he felt himself being lifted and carried. He didn't mind though, for his subconscious knew that he was in Alfred's arms.

SOOOO guysssssss, yea… that escalated quickly. Anyway, yeah, I wanted to introduce a slice of life from Arthur's past. I imagine all of the characters really close, like besties with each other so that's why I had Ivan and Arthur whispering like little school girls. Gilbert is obviously the jealous type, and so is Alfred, he just isn't as obvious. So many questions. Questions, questions, questions. All will be answered next chapter, but if you have specific questions, leave it in the reviews and I'll reply. Next Chapter= Alfred's POV