Hello! It's me again! I was going to upload this earlier but there was a bit of a problem...so yeah. Literally I wrote this in thirty minutes. I think I broke my writer's block! Are you ready for some angsty romance? If you're reading this, which everyone is just going to skip over anyways so why am I even writing this, I'd like to warn you that it is terribly written teenaged angsty love. I'd just like to question why I write here and at the bottom? Hm...I guess I'll never know. This is like those terms of agreement sections that NOBODY WOULD READ! Haha that's not completely true. THANK YOU FOR ALL OF THE WONDERFUL REVIEWS! Ready to see what happens...? I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Some strong language

Disclaimer: I do not own hetalia!


"Artie, what's wrong?" Alfred asked after slamming the door to his sapphire blue convertible. He sprinted across the parking lot dodging multi-colored cars. He was wearing the leather bomber jacket over his football uniform that was still a bit damp from sweat.

"Stop calling me that," Arthur snapped wiping his tears away with his sleeve.

Alfred looked almost shocked at Arthur's tone. With sad eyes he asked "why are you crying?" He dried Arthur's tears with his fingers.

"Just stay away from me," he warned backing away from Alfred.

He tilted his head slightly. "What's wrong with you?"

"Explain this to me," he shouted opening his flip phone to the text message he had recently received. He scrolled down to the picture and flailed his phone in Alfred's face.

Alfred winced. "I was drunk it's nothing. Now let's just go ea-"

"So am I just nothing in your life?" He clenched his fists making his knuckles turn white.

"Artie, you're everything to me."

"Bull shit," Arthur announced.

"Artie!"

"What everyone says about you is right!"

Alfred looked down at the stone paved sidewalk.

"You just play with everyone's feelings. I thought maybe you were different, but obviously not! For once in their lives, Scottie and Dylan were right about something!"

"Artie, please listen to me," he begged grabbing Arthur's hands.

"Why should I?" he replied coldly and released his hands from Alfred's.

"Because I know that you love me."

His thick eyebrow twitched. "I don't know what I feel anymore! Maybe I never actually loved you. Maybe I was just saying it because you did, and I felt bad…"

Alfred blinked rapidly. "Will you please just listen to me!"

Arthur pouted silently.

"I was drunk and she uh well…took advantage of me. The picture looks worse than it was. I swear I don't like her or anything."

"And why should I believe that your story is true?" he sneered.

Alfred bit his lip, attempting to stop himself from crying.

He looked into Alfred's blue eyes. "How can I forgive you?"

"You have to…" he began but was stopped by his tears rolling down his cheeks.

"I don't have to do anything you say! How about we forget all about this and stay away from each other?"

"Artie," Alfred said watching Arthur sprint off in the distance.


"Alfred! It's about time you came home! You're just in time for dinner," Matthew said setting down four plates on the long dinning room table. The room had hints of burnt wood and ashes in the air, although the fireplace was no longer burning. Their father was reading the newspaper at the head of the table like usual.

"Not hungry," he muttered and headed towards the stairs. He lazily dropped his books next to the grand piano in the center of the main room. I just want my privacy, he thought.

His father looked up from the newspaper. The front article read 'Robbery at High School.' "Not hungry? Alfred what's wrong?"

"I'm just not hungry," he repeated angrily. Why can't I enjoy my privacy?

His father's blue eyes began to worry. He folded the newspaper and neatly placed it beside his white plate. "What happened today?"

"Nothing," he groaned.

Matthew placed the fourth plate on the table and said with a smile "then come sit with us."

"I have uh…work to do," he scratched the back of his head.

Matthew stared into Alfred's deep eyes. Matthew knew everything about Alfred by his eyes. He could tell that Arthur knew about his "affair" with Michelle, and that he did not take it well. "We all know that's a lie."

"What's a lie?" Mrs. Jones asked putting a plate of sautéed peas at the center of the long table from the kitchen. The room began to smell like popcorn due to the I-Cant-Believe-It's-Not-Butter melted onto the vegetables.

"It's nothing," Alfred murmured which really meant "It's nothing I want to talk about with you."

Mr. Jones asked "is it some girl?"

Alfred glared his don't-tell-them look to Matthew. "Yeah, actually it is." It wasn't a total lie, seeing as Michelle was the cause of his problems.

"Did you get her pregnant or something?"

"Dad," Alfred wined. "Why do you always assume the worst?"

Mr. Jones smiled and took a large spoonful on peas onto his plate. "What! It could happen."

Mrs. Jones rolled her eyes at her husband's comment. "Now tell us what really happened."

"Oh, uh, yeah, I, uh," he stammered and looked around to the main room. He noticed the yellow plastic bag was still neatly tied next to his backpack. "Dad I need to borrow your keys!"

"It is dinner time, whatever it is, it can wait until after," she explained harshly spooning out peas for herself.

"It can't."

His father nodded and fished in his pocket for his keys, as if he knew what Alfred meant. "Just tell me where you're going."

Mrs. Jones glared at him with light purple eyes.

He tossed the keys at Alfred who caught it in his right hand and stood up. His eyes stared at the yellow bag when he replied "I have to return something."


"Dinner's here," Scottie yelled from the kitchen. His voice echoed off of the broken tiles.

Arthur groaned before lying A Tale of Two Cities on the coffee table next to empty cups of beer from the past Sunday's football game. Books always made him feel better. He removed his black, square rimmed reading glasses and placed them on top of the book. "What is it this time? A pathetic excuse of ground beef and chips?" he asked sliding into the empty chair. He preferred fine cuisine to the slop McDonalds served on their menu.

"Eat your burger and stop complaining," his father scolded noticing Arthur was grumpier than usual. Jack took a large bite of a triple quarter pounder with cheese.

Arthur sulked in his chair and began to cut his hamburger into bite size pieces. He didn't even like hamburgers.

"By the way, idiot, they're called fries not chips," Dylan teased throwing one of his fries at Arthur and hitting him just below his green eyes.

"Whatever," he muttered reaching for the bottle of bourbon situated at the middle of the gray table. Maybe bourbon would help me forget about Alfred…

"You're inAmericanow, no beer for you," Scottie laughed snagging the bottle before Arthur could and poured the rest into his dirty cup.

"What about you? You're twenty…" And still in high school, he thought. Scottie was, err, left back three times for failing his classes and then getting caught smoking on school premises. Most of the time, he wouldn't even show up to class and would also refuse to take the summer school programs. At least Dylan passed high school, although he never pursued to go to college. It was true that the Kirklands couldn't afford most colleges, but there was always financial aid and community college.

"I'll be twenty one next year," he said taking a swig of bourbon. "What's it to ya anyways?"

Arthur rolled his green eyes. You have until May until you're back in England away from them, all of them, he told himself.

"You're seventeen and you don't have your license," Dylan taunted dipping two of his fries into something darker than ketchup.

"So what?" Arthur spat. If he hadn't been so sad, he would've slit their throats right then and there.

"That means you're still a child."

"I am not a child!"

Jack rolled his eyes. "You sure act like one," he noted.

Arthur opened his mouth to refute but was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing twice.

"I'll get it," Dylan yelled in a childish tone. He pushed out his chair and carelessly skipped towards the front door managing to knock down a couple of plastic plates.

Arthur heart began to beat faster as the front door creaked open. Please don't let it be him, he prayed.

"Hey is, uh, Artie here?" he could hear the voice ask from the kitchen.

Arthur's heart sank. Really?

"Art!" Dylan called without delay and returned to the kitchen. "Door's for you!"

Arthur sighed before forcing himself to stand and walk to the door. He scanned the figure at the front door with his emerald eyes. Tall, muscular and holding a bouquet of blue roses. Do blue roses even exist? He curled his lip and asked coldly "what do you want?"

To Be Continued...


Author's Notes: Woah! Intense angst! Sorry about the cliffhanger again...but I had to. Before you even ask blue roses do exist! They are hard to find and most likely made by genetic mutations, but they are real! And the thing with the roses, well it turns out the national flowers for both America and England are roses. YES! Both are roses! Anyways, what do you think? When I first wrote this I made it that Arthur accepted his apology and then I was like...uh, no. What kinda drama is that? So I rewrote it like this! I know, I'm evil. But maybe it'll work out. Maybe...or maybe not until chapter 30. Mwahahahahaha! I don't want to spoil the next chapter so uh...yeah. I hope you enjoyed and REMEMBER TO REVIEW!