Hey everyone~! I'm really sorry for this late update, please don't hate me . . I would have posted sooner if my twin hadn't decided that his drawings that he does on my computer is so much more important than updating my fics. -_-

So this chapter is a filler and I am, yet again, sorry. I tried my best to make it entertaining so I hope you all like it. More exciting stuff is planned for the next chapter so hopefully this does not deter your interest in this fic. I am still asking for more reviews, I love hearing from you guys. Please feel free to give CONSTRUCTIVE criticism on what things that could be worked on or what things you would like to see happen in terms of development or how the characters interact. I will take these requests into consideration.

Also, I know that I curse quite a bit in these chapters. It's your choice whether or not to read it so I'm not apologizing for that.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters. They belong to their amazing creator.

Characters: Arthur (England), Feliciano (Italy), Tim Govert (Netherlands), Alfred (America), Matthew (Canada), Ludwig (Germany), Antonio (Spain), Francis Bonnefoy (France), Simon Densen (Denmark), Roderich Edelstein (Austria), Ivan Broginski (Russia), Im Yong Soo (South Korea), Kiku Honda (Japan), and Heracles Karpusi (Greece).

I hope you all enjoy this chapter and please continue to review!

Chapter 4: Recognition

He feels the breeze still on his face, but now he is not standing on both feet nor is he free falling. He can see the stars shine brightly in the night sky above him, each looking like a bright and shimmering teardrop. He can feel the earth beneath him, sticks and rocks poking painfully into his skin, but he does not feel it. He feels nothing but the breeze. That's the only thing he had ever wanted to feel in this drastic decision, and it was thankfully granted. Though his body lied still, his eyes cast over with grey, the boy himself could still see the world around him, that was, until his mind finally casted his tired soul to rest, permitting the darkness to wash over and provide endless dreams to follow him.

The teen still had these dreams.

It had been a little over a week since that night. The night the blond had planned to die but completely failed. If it wasn't for that damn Alfred I'd be at peace by now. He would grumble to himself. If he hadn't loathed and envied the star teen already then he did now. Ten fold.

Speaking of that blond, arrogant, prick, Arthur had somehow managed to avoid him altogether. The day after the incident he could see from the shadows that the oh-so-famous quarterback was looking for him. It was just too obvious. His big blue eyes were always on alert, skimming through the many faces that walked the school's hallways, yet he was still too blind to see the Brit walk directly past him. What a clueless moron.

And what? Did the kid think that they would become the best of buds after that? Yeah right. Oh, but his hero deserved at least that~! Blech. This was all some plot to get a good laugh at Arthur. Alfred may not have been the kind of guy that would outright bully someone, but Arthur never doubted that he had the capability to. And now that damned football player knew how broken he was.

The blond teen simply let out a sharp huff of air, placing his pockets within baggy black pants that were decorated with various zippers, pins, and chains. Even if the pants were baggy they actually made him look smaller rather than bigger. Damn his physique. He trudged his way through dried pine needles as he made his way to school that morning.

While Arthur was just on his way to school, Feliciano was starting to be late for his. His artistic breakfast had taken much more time than he had anticipated. He was making a mess of his mess as he scrambled to at least place his dishes in the sink. He then began to diligently rub the crusted food off of the counters when his guardian Tim walked in groggily, his hair mused and a large red lipstick stain planted all over his face.

"G'morning Feli~" he cooed as he tiredly rested his head on the counter.

"U-umm good morning Tim! If you want breakfast I have some left overs for you!" he stuttered as his words came out in a gush.

"Mmm thanks man," he mumbled as he trailed off on the edge of dreamland until his eyes shot fully awake, his body standing erect in the blink of an eye, "Oh right! You cook! Feli I need you to do something for me!" he said all excited now.

"What?" he rushed, if he didn't leave now then he would be late and then he'd have to get tired Tim to drive him.

"Okay, my parents," he said the word with exasperation, "probably have already told you this but my great grandma is coming over next week and she's like SUPER Dutch. She was the first woman in our family line to settle us in American. I want to make her a good Pennsylvania Dutch breakfast and I looked at our school's library selection online and they have a book of Dutch recipes with a particular recipe I'm looking for." he breathed in a lung full of air as he started to finish his rambling, "Could you perhaps get the book for me and teach me the recipe today?" he asked with pleading green eyes that reminded the Italian of his closest friend so he just couldn't say no.

"Ve~ Of course I'll get the book Tim! I would love to learn a new dish!" he said smiling brightly as he grabbed his backpack.

"Oh thank god! You're a lifesaver man!" he exclaimed before passing out on the now clean counter.

Feliciano nodded and headed out the door, running full speed ahead to the bus hoping that he did not miss it. Looks like he would have to make a stop during lunch to the library. Sure it would seem that Tim could man up and get the recipe book himself but it wasn't the case over pride. The Dutch boy was permanently banned from the library for looking up porn on the computers once and making a mess when he and his friends tried to roughhouse.

Tim wasn't a good role model.

Thankfully Feliciano barely caught the yellow school bus and he hopped on, easily dodging a foot in his path now that he had a kick in his step. He was glad that Tim was trying to bond with him and it was nice to hear that the teen was doing something nice for a family member. Maybe he and his great grandmother had a special bond?

As per routine the pair of friends met up in their 'secret hideout' conversing like always while a certain all American teen was roaming about the halls without his usual groupies trailing him. How he had manage to escape was beyond his comprehension. Wide blue eyes roamed the hallways of the school, a few passers-by nodded his way and he instinctively flashed his trademark grin.

Damn it. I save that guy's life and this is the thanks I get? I haven't been able to spot him anywhere... Well, you know, it's not like he actually wanted to be saved... Shut up... he grumbled to himself. That Brit was something mysterious and Alfred could suppose that that was why he was so drawn to him. Another side of him told him that he needed to help the broken teen. What pushed him so far off the edge that he was actually willing to jump off one? All the quarterback wanted at this point was to help the poor kid, let him know that he was not alone and that he could have the awesome Alfred as his friend. I mean, who wouldn't want to have a friend or two?..

"Oi, Alfred! Where the hell are you heading off to? School's about to start!" Alfred turned to see his friend Antonio and new friend Ludwig standing next to each other down the hall throwing odd looks at him.

"O-oh. Hey guys! What's up?" he ran over to them, giving Antonio a high five and a great big smile for Ludwig, he still didn't seem to be the touchy feely type of guy.

"Just got here and went looking for you when your groupies couldn't find you. What were you doing?" the brunette inquired.

"Oh you know. Just going for a walk around the school, wanted to get away from the crowd for awhile." he feigned sincerity.

"Riiight, anyways, at lunch we need to go to the library to get Ludwig some science books he didn't get last week. You coming?" he said, still trying to figure Alfred out.

"Ugh, you know I hate the library! But whatever, that sounds better than staying at the table with Frog and the rest of them. Honestly that guy has a death wish on me or something!" now Alfred was usually oblivious to some of his 'friends' hatred for him but with Francis... It was painstakingly obvious that the Frenchman hated his American guts.

"Who wouldn't?" Antonio teased and began to walk away from the blond.

"Hey that wasn't nice! He called after and followed the two down the hallway. To the blond it seemed it would just be an average day. Unfortunately not.

He had spent his whole morning still wrapped up in that Arthur kid. What made him so special? All Alfred cared about was if the kid was even still alive and if he was then why hadn't he showed up? And what if Alfred found him? What would he say, what would he do? First thing that came to mind was to become the kid's friend and help him. Then again his mind always reeled in the back and questioned whether or not he should take this suicide matter to the counselors. Alfred was in fact a peer counselor but he had not come across such a dark topic before. He didn't know what to do.

While the blond was supposed to be taking down notes he was instead doodling, not knowing how to come down to earth with his brain so preoccupied with the dark teen. Alfred was always a happy and sunshine kind of kid and while he had his own insecurities (mainly about what people truly thought about him) he always managed to put on a smile and it was a foreign world, this depression. How could someone get like that?

Even in Forensics the teen continued to stare off into space, earning an erase board marker to the head by Ms. C. This was definitely not a normal week, and he HAD to get himself back to earth because he had one of the most important football games coming up: homecoming.

"Hey dreamboat," there was a smack on his head by a well known Spaniard, "You coming with us or what? We still have to stop by some vending machines for some form of lunch so get your butt moving," Antonio said then promptly turned to head out the door of the classroom to a waiting German.

Alfred rushed after them, shaking his head to complete consciousness. As planned prior to this morning they headed down the halls and to the library. On the way they each grabbed some food from the machines that lined the hallway as you got close to the library. Antonio buying a few bags of spicy chips, Ludwig some pretzels, and Alfred opted for a candy bar. Figures.

They each had to finish their snacks before entering into the much too large library but that was a given. Antonio and Ludwig had to stand for a few moments before entering to finish while Alfred was waiting impatiently as he had inhaled his chocolate bar as soon as it entered his clutches.

Opening the large glass doors the Spaniard pointed the German towards the book rental section for his needed books, telling Alfred to go entertain himself somewhere while they were busy, "Hey dudes! That's not fair!" he yelled after their retreating figures and the brunette only waved back.

"We have the whole lunch period to explore, go find a comic book or something," he had said as he walked away.

The blond only huffed and began to meander through the wide range of books. Comic books? Gimme a break, this is the SCHOOL library. Like hell they'd actually have anything fun to read. Alfred really had no idea where his legs were taking him, he only knew that he hated being in a large room full of words that mocked him. Just because he wasn't all that smart didn't mean that thick binds of paper had the right to laugh at him with their insults written in taunting black ink letters. Damn books.

He was a football star, what did he need knowledge for? Well you are going to join the Air Force dumbass. Shut up. he insulted himself. Of all his insecurities that was the one he hated the most. The blue eyed teen looked around the section that had brown tables all around, some round and off into the corners and giant rectangled ones all clustered in the middle of the great room. His little brother Matthew was known for hiding in the very back at a round table while Alfred was off at practice.

With his eyes skimming he could see Antonio in the magazine section, the swimsuit magazine section. It amazed him that while the school didn't carry comic books that he all so loved (because he could relate to the heroes' weaknesses) the school still carried magazines that showed way too much exposure in his mind. He had half a mind to go over there and join him.

He couldn't spot the blond hair of Ludwig but his eyes stopped immediately on a head of someone's blond mop. The teen took in the sight of night black clothing and a small frame standing at a bookshelf bar. Arthur.

The American boy began in great strides towards the punk teen, stopping short to debate his actions but then continued forth as he slid in next to him, casually pulling out a novel at random.

Thick eyebrows furrowed as spiteful green eyes landed on the darker blond, "Can I help you?" he said in an angry tone.

"Oh! Hey Arthur! Almost didn't see you there! How are you?!" he yelled, earning a few shushes from the bookworm kids. Upon seeing the Brit's face Alfred genuinely smiled to see that the boy's massive facial reconstruction had settled down immensely, though it seemed that a few marks were now freshly added. It had shocked Alfred momentarily to see that this sour face was actually quite handsome when it wasn't all contorted with bruises and swelling. He also took notice that Arthur was sporting a few piercings. Two studs that dotted the top flesh of his nose in between the eyes and a black lip piercing that made his full pink lips stand out even more. He wore the punk look well.

"Fuck off." was all the Brit had responded with, turning back to his book that Alfred grew increasingly interested in.

"So watcha reading?" he said leaning over, catching a glimpse of music notes before Arthur hastily slammed it shut and placed it back on the shelf in front of him.

"None of your business. You can leave now." he all but hissed.

"So this is where you run off to to hide? Funny, I've never seen you in here before." he commented, still smiling and ignoring the request to leave.

"That's none of a wanker's business." he said curtly.

"Hey now. I was just trying to be nice," Alfred began, feeling a strange heated feeling in his chest and face. Anger? "Look I've been looking everywhere try'na find you because I thought that you went off and tried to d-"

A small but firm hand clasped over his mouth, Arthur's eyebrow twitched as he glared daggers into blue eyes, "Listen here, Mr. Hero. If you had left me as I was then you wouldn't feel so burdened to check up on me. I said thank you so that means that I don't have to deal with you anymore. You got that?" he released him, "Stupid git."

"Is that so?" Alfred countered, accidentally letting a hint of playfulness escape into his voice. He internally shook his head to gather himself, putting an uncharacteristically serious face on, "You know, Arthur," the Brit felt chills at how coldly his name was said, "You may not know this but I am a Peer Counselor," Huh? "and when I encounter a suicide attempt or symptom I am to immediately report it to the counselors. I'm trying to help you avoid all of that." What am I trying to accomplish here? "So you either open up to me, or I alert this to the adults." he said all of this whilst questioning himself but also let that threat hang heavy in the air. Arthur wouldn't want adults to get involved. That's too obvious. He wouldn't dare, would he? the quarterback could hear his own heavy heart beat within his chest cavity.

"You wouldn't." he whispered.

"Try me." dead pan.

"Bollocks..." he trailed off and then cleared his throat, "Then what do you want from me?" he inquired rightfully so.

"..." Alfred stumped at the thought of what it was he wanted to say, "Umm... Oh. How about letting me be your friend?" he said more confidently at the end.

Arthur let out a short and harsh laugh and turned away, walking further into the library, "Thanks, but no thanks. I rather handle lying to the adults then spend one more minute with the likes of you." he insulted.

Alfred only stood there, mouth slightly agape. He got shut down? How? And ouch. That hurt. Wounded by a teen he hardly knew he thought, How?

Feliciano had somehow managed to drag Arthur out of their little bathroom den to accompany him to the library in search of Tim's requested book, but not before the Brit could reply with a few spouts of insults, "Why the bloody hell do we have to go and get that twat's book? It's his damn fault for causing so much trouble!" Arthur whined as the Italian brunette dragged the punk teen by the wrist.

"Ve~ I know Arthur, but this is really important to him! You don't even have to follow me all around." he said trying to pacify the blond's irritation but to no avail.

"Still don't see why WE have to do it." he grumbled.

"Ve ve~ but Arthur... They have a music section~!" he said in hopes that that would get him to follow.

"Oh?" it worked. "Fine, then I don't see why not." he said stomping forward and passed the smiling brunette.

Feliciano might not have been that bright on how to manipulate most people but he at least knew how to get Arthur to do a few things with little to no complaints. He hummed happily as they entered into the room of books, releasing Arthur and telling him that he would only be a moment before he walked towards the recipe book section of the library and the Brit to the music section.

The brunette Italian went to a book checkup computer, seeing if the school actually had the book on hand and after finding it's serial number he went to retrieve the desired book.

Feliciano frowned disappointingly. He looked down to the paper to inspect the fold of paper he had in his hand and back up to the book, the exact book that he needed to get. It was so close yet so far. On the very top shelf.

Very well. Challenge excepted.

He raised his small body onto the tip of his toes, hand raised above his head, and his tongue slowly peeking out from between his lips. Feliciano let out a low whine as his goal was still far away. That was, until a large hand with long and pale fingers moved above his own, pointer finger touching the top binding of the very book that the Italian was trying to reach, sliding it out and holding it in a massive paw.

The Italian teen was frozen in his outstretched position as the book went over his head and to the body that loomed behind him. Then he realized, "Ve~ I needed that book first." he said with a slightly irritated voice as he turned around only to have the color in his face drain. A tall and muscular blond teen stood before him, blue eyes skimming through the cookbook already. This wasn't just some intimidating blond, it was the same blond Feliciano was caught gawking at in the locker room.

"Ve~ I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Please don't hurt me! I didn't mean to yell! I'm so sorry!" the brunette began to panic, praying to all the gods he knew that this teen wouldn't hurt him for talking out of turn. "You can have the book! I don't need it!"

At this the German teen finally looked up, closing the book, "Don't need it?" he gave a nod, "If you didn't need it then why were you trying so hard to get it?" he handed Feliciano the Pennsylvania Dutch cookbook, who took it with great hesitation.

"Why?" he muttered then shut his mouth with an audible snap. He had meant to think that.

The German gave him a questionable look, "Why what? That I brought the book down for you? You looked like you needed help, so I helped."

"You don't want to hurt me?" again he blurted out his thoughts.

"What?" Feliciano could hear a thicker German accent began to enter into the looming teen's speech. "Why would I want to hurt you?"

"Ve~ n-nevermind!" he spoke sporadically, "T-thank you for the help!"

He nodded, "So what. Are you a chef or something?" Ludwig felt awkward for some reason. He didn't know why but he wanted to talk to this little Italian more. He was afraid of being hurt, that was evident but what for?

"Ve~ I like to cook! But this book isn't for me! It's for my transfer guardian, he wants to make Pennsylvania Dutch pancakes for a Dutch family member and he can't get the book himself!" he said enthusiastically.

"Pennsylvania Dutch? You know, most of those type of settlers are from Germany," he saw the teen's face fall and panicked for some reason, "But the Dutch and Germans are quite similar so their not so different!" the brunette smiled and the blond relaxed. "A-anyways, what's your name?" he asked feeling somehow flustered under the friendly gaze of the smaller teen, his cheeks tinted pink.

"Ve~ I am Feliciano! Feliciano Vargas! And you?" he said eagerly.

"U-umm I'm Ludwig." he said awkwardly.

"'Ve~ Are you a transfer student like me?"

"Yeah, I'm from Germany." Now he actually wanted to walk away. He was never good at small talk.

"Cool! I am from Italy!" he smiled and their conversation grew heavy with an awkward aura.

"That's nice." he scratched the back of his head trying to rack his brain for something to say. "Are you going to the homecoming game?" he spoke randomly. Maybe if he mentioned it he could bid him farewell.

"Eh? Game? What game?" Does he seriously not know?

"The football game.. You know that it's tomorrow right? You are going to a school that's obsessed with football." he deadpanned wondering how clueless this kid could get.

"Oh! Ve~ I've never gone to a game!"

"What? Not even one? Why not?" he said incredulously.

"Ve~ My friend Arthur and I are too scared." the Italian said, slightly shrinking where he stood.

Ludwig's blond brow raised in question but when he realized that he was not going to receive anymore information than that he decided to go for a different approach, "Well how about you take you and your friend Arthur to the game tomorrow. You don't know, it might be fun. It's going to be the first big game I've been in since transferring and I don't have friends to invite. Would you come?" the German almost pleaded. Why did he want this stranger to see him play so badly?

"Ve~ I'll try!" he smiled.

Ludwig gave a thin smile back, "Thank you. See you tomorrow then. Nice talking to you Feliciano." he shivered at the sound of his name spoken in a German accent and he thought this odd before waving the blond goodbye, book in hand.

"Ve~ Tim I'm home!" a certain auburn brown, Italian teen walked through the doors of his temporary home calling out to his guardian. When he didn't hear a reply he tried again, "Ve~ I know you're home!," he yelled up the stairs, "You're car is in the driveway!" he added before setting down his backpack at the kitchen counter, pulling out the library recipe book that he had checked out and began flipping through the pages for the recipe the Dutch boy had mentioned.

He found it easily but was confused about the odd shape the pancakes were shown in. These are pancakes? Aren't they supposed to be round and not with all that crust? he shook his head and began pulling out all the needed ingredients: eggs, flour, milk, and butter. A simple dish it seemed.

He heard the pounding of feet on the staircase, he looked up to see the blond walking down towards the kitchen angrily, a brunette girl following behind but then turned to the front door to leave, her hand covering her face.

"Damn it Feli, you're a real CB, you know that?" he said grumpily as he walked into the kitchen, his hair mused much like the girl who had just walked out of the house. "What the hell do you want?"

"Ve~ I got the book you wanted!" the Italian said happily, unfazed but the feigned anger being projected by the blond teen. "I thought we could learn it together before you make it for your great grandma."

"Oh," he said looking like he felt touched, "Thanks man, sure that would be awesome." he padded quickly into the laundry room that joined the kitchen area, slipping on a grey t-shirt.

They shared a few words after that but quickly went to work, enthusiastically pointing at the book and laughing at how simple the recipe really was. It was the first time the two ever shared a moment and bonded, much like they should had three years ago when the Italian had moved in. Once they pulled out their final product they sat around the island staring at what they thought were misshapen pancakes. Shrugging they tried it anyways and the buttery and eggy pancake melted in their mouths, noses filled with a heavenly aroma. Each took their time savory the simple dish and stopped when they ate the crust.

Both stared wide eyed at each other, "This tastes likes marshmallows," the blond complimented at this new and delicious discovery.

The brunette only nodded.

The day had finished with little incidence, the palm of the blond's hand had been scraped when he was tripped but that was all and he was grateful. It gave him another day to think that his life was worth living. He huffed out a breath as he brought the strap of his backpack over his shoulder some more. He was walking back home from school, walking up to the mailbox and opening it. There was one letter inside. It was addressed to him. The sender was from a prison not too far but out of city limits.

His dad.

The Brit let a ghost of a smile creep onto his lips. It had been so long since the man had wrote to his son and the boy grew worried for his father. Arthur had never replied to a single one of his father's letters, not even when he was a kid, but he enjoyed reading them. His father didn't just write about his life behind bars waiting for death to come or spend the time begging for his blond son to reply back. He instead wrote life lessons for Arthur, words that the man would have said if he were there to raise the blond boy. Crimes that he regretted, boiling blood that he wished he knew how to cool.

He tucked the letter safe in his backpack, taking note of the two cars now parked in the driveway. His mom was home and someone else along with her. He trudged up the steps of the dreaded household, filling his lungs with oxygen before opening the creaking door. He stepped in slowly, one step in and tried a second before feeling his hair being pulled by a vice grip, yanking his small frame into the house fully.

"Why hello Arthur! Good to see the little shithead got back from school safely," a thick voice gave a cackle as Arthur tried to release himself of the grip around his head, "Did you have a good day you little bastard?" he hacked up another chortle, throwing the blond unto the floor. He gave a kick for good measure.

"That was uncalled for..." Arthur coughed, arms folded over his pained stomach.

"Uncalled fo-"

"Hey! Leave the shit alone, we have to go now, he's not worth wasted breath!" the blond woman that was Arthur's mother stomped down the stairs, purse and keys in hand as she moved towards the door, she glared hatefully at her own son, "Pathetic," she spat, "How did I ever end up raising such a pitiful child?" she questioned out loud before turning and grabbing the boy toy she had had the week before. They apparently enjoyed each other's sadistic nature towards Arthur and had been together since.

The door shut with a hollow slam and Arthur remained on the floor slumped, trying to keep stinging tears from spilling over his eyelids. After gathering himself for a few minutes he rose from his place on the wooden floor, grabbing his backpack and heading to the kitchen to fill his arms with all the needed food and beverages he would need for the rest of the night to ensure that he didn't have to travel downstairs to the war zone more than what would be needed. With a small amount of food and a soda held in his arms, he headed up the stairs to his bedroom to lock himself away from the outside world. To his safe haven.

Entering into the darkened room, dark mainly because of the black painted walls and the thick black curtains hanging from his window, he spread out the food and soda onto his normally unused desk. He dug his hand into the depths of his backpack, pulling out the letter from his father and fell onto his bed. Arthur held up the letter high above his head. Half of him staring at the address, the other half staring at the ceiling behind it.

He let out a drawn out, weary sigh flipping onto his stomach and eventually mustered up the courage to open it. He folded it out carefully, taking note that it must have been the shortest letter the man had ever sent. The blond wondered why.

Scrawled out in poorly written letters on the yellow stained paper the boy read:

To my beloved son Arthur,

How are you? Are you doing all right? Going to school like a good, young lad? I might never know the answers to my questions. You've never replied.

Do you despise me? Resent me for never being there like a father should? I wish I could crawl on my hands and knees to beg for forgiveness, but alas, I cannot.

I often wonder if you ever received my letters or if your intentionally ignore them. But it is your choice of course.

How's that mother of yours? I hope she's not too horrid. She never was one to cuddle and be sweet, so you're brothers have told me.

Anyways, my dear boy, I fear that this is my last and final letter to you. I can only hope that you read this letter before I am gone from this earth. My death date is quickly approaching and will be this Saturday of the week I send this letter. I was given the opportunity to invite three close friends or relatives for this spectacular occasion so I took the liberty of inviting your three older brothers. I couldn't think of asking you to watch me be given the lethal injection. I don't want you to carry that last image of me with you for the rest of your life.

All I ask from you now is that you reply to this one letter, or to any letter that I have sent you over the years. The last lesson I will teach is the importance of words. Putting thought to pen and pen to paper is the most important thing in this world, Arthur. It allows you to say all it is that you need to say. Allow for errors to occur because life is not perfect. If I had used my words instead of my actions I may very well be there with you now. Don't hold things in, it doesn't work. You'll have to let it go one of these days and it's never pretty. Writing letters has helped me through my trials here and I suggest you the same.

I hope you do not hold in your resentment of me for the rest of your life. Live everyday like it's your last.

I'll remember you always,

Your Father

I love you.

By the time Arthur read the last sentence the hand that held the letter began to shake and his eyes stung with fresh tears. He read it three times over, taking in every word the man had wrote. He looked at the sending date on the envelope to see that the man had sent it only yesterday. Saturday. His father was schedule to be killed this Saturday. With was the last chance the blond had to reply to his father. To make up for all the other times he had ignored the man's request for a reply. If that was his dying wish then so be it.

The blond Brit rolled off the bed, taking out a notebook and ripping out a sheet he laid it on the desk as he went into the house. Surreptitiously he tipped toed through the house out of habit until he found an envelope and a stamp. Racing back to his refuge he wrote the address he had read for so many years, not needing a reminder but checked his memory just incase.

He was now standing over the desk, debating what to say to his father. His last words. Biting his lips he wrote out in less than perfect handwriting in black ink:

I love you too. -Arthur

And before he could think twice he folded the paper and slipped it into the envelope, running downstairs and out to the mailbox, slipping it in and pulling up the red flag to signal outgoing mail.

He stood there, staring at the mailbox for sometime. Hoping that his letter would get to his dad in time.

Late that night Arthur laid in his bed, the letter reeling in his mind, playing over and over again. One of the things his father had told him stuck with him. Writing letters. He wondered if he should try it. But to whom? What about?

And then the seed of his father's death planted itself into his brain. It's not like Arthur wanted to carry on for much longer. He was still waiting for a time where he could sneak out and grace the beautiful cliff with his rotting corpse. He was still scared of going but he still planned to.

Now to whom? All he had was Feliciano. He wouldn't bother his brothers with his death. They haven't talked to him since he was twelve. They wouldn't miss him.

But Feliciano? He might.

He nodded to himself of this plan. To bid his Italian friend farewell.

So he stayed up the rest of the night, pen and paper in hand but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what he should write. There was so much to say and so very few words to say it. The four words he had written out in pen haunted him from then until dawn. It read:

To Feliciano, my friend.

By morning he was still holding his pen and paper as he walked through the door of the empty house. He didn't think this odd, with his mom's new boy toy it was more than likely that she spent the night plastered at his place. Good for her, even better for Arthur. The blond Brit made his way to school, still deep in thought about what he should write. He took to mind what his father had said about errors. Yet he didn't want it to be a slop hole of a letter. These were going to be his last words to his only friend and he wanted to put in as much thought into it as he was sure his father had.

Halfway he grunted in defeat, slipping it into his black bag promising himself to work on it later and trudged onto campus.

"Arthur! Hey Arthur!" he froze in his tracks to see the blond quarterback of the school bounding his way. Green eyes widened. Shit he thought before running at high speed into the school the find Feliciano.

The blond known as Alfred stood there in the dust the Brit had kicked up during his escape. Smile completely vanished.

It was lunchtime and Feliciano and Arthur were sitting in their little hideout eating. Well Feliciano was eating, the other one...

"Ve~ Arthur! What are you writing?" the Italian inquired curiously, leaning over to look at the piece of paper the Brit was occupying most of his time and attention with.

Arthur flinched and backed away from his friend whose face became long with sadness, "S-sorry man, this is important. Just a letter, you don't need to worry about its content." he said feigning a smiling and the brunette only frowned at this.

"You know, we're friends Arthur. And I wish that you would be a little more honest with me." brown eyes looked uncharacteristically serious. Feliciano had never called out Arthur like that.

"I'm sorry," he only mumbled, "I didn't know you felt that way. I promise I'll open up more Feli but this is something I have to work on alone." he sighed turning back to his paper that finally had letters decorating it. He now lost his train of thought and sighing in indignation, he threw it back into the depths of his backpack.

The Italian teen was still slightly frowning, tossing his food around with his utensil until he was suddenly lit with a spark, "Ve~ I almost forgot! Arthur!" he called out for his friend's attention.

"What?"

"Ve~ Yesterday, at the library, I met this guy named Ludwig! He was really big and scary looking but he was also very nice!" he spoke excitedly and began with his next train of thought, "He's on the football team and wanted me to come to the homecoming game tonight also!"

Arthur froze, "He's what?"

"Ve~ On the football team. Why? What's wrong Arthur?" he said feeling his happiness begin to dwindle away.

"Feli, if he's on the football team that could very well mean that he plans on pulling a prank on you. You shouldn't go, I don't want you to get hurt." green eyes grew serious as the blond folded his arms across his chest.

"But Arthur, I don't think he planned on being mean. He seemed really nice..." the Italian's voice was quiet.

Ragged blond locks shook as the British teen disagreed, "You shouldn't go."

"Ve~ You're not my mother Arthur! I think we should at least TRY to make new friends!" the brunette snapped causing his friend's eyes to widen in shock. Feliciano never raised his voice, never.

With the shock waves of his friend's anger still coursing through him, he breathed out a blast of displeasure, "Well if you're going then I might as well go too." his jaw clenched at the thought.

"Ve~ Thank you!" the Italian replied happily and hugged his punk friend. The blond only stared over his shoulder with a look of horror plastered onto his face.

He was angry. No. He was more than angry. He was pissed off beyond belief. He couldn't believe that he actually said yes to going to the damned football game.

he hated crowds, and just recently, he discovered that he hated this crowd. All around him from where he stood, his fellow peers were screaming cheer's and boo's every which way. Trash and confetti falling from the stands. He didn't understand the appeal. It was just a bunch of overgrown teens throwing each other across the field. What the bloody hell is wrong with these people?

Green eyes looked over the see one happy Italian standing next to him, completely enthralled with the game even if he didn't know a single thing about it. They were standing, particularly because neither friend dared to brave the bleachers and the roaring crowd. Thankfully for Arthur, he had spotted a close acquaintance that they could stand next to: Kiku.

So there they stood, in front of the gated exit for the football players to the locker rooms, basically the best sideline view of the torn up field. Kiku was there because he was the photographer for the sports section of the school's newspaper. He stood somewhat shyly, snapping pictures at various angles from his designated spot at the end of the field. The Japanese teen had gladly let the two friends stand by him at the most peaceful area to be.

It was close to half time now and the boys' school was undoubtedly wiping the field with the visiting team. One opponent even dislocating a collarbone during an over aggressive tackle.

"If it weren't for that new fullback, our team would probably be having a run for their money," the raven haired kid guiltily commented as he went down on one knee to take a picture, his gray hoodie now at his waist so he had more fluid movements, a black band t-shirt covering his torso.

Arthur looked down to give a clueless nod to the teen and Feliciano spoke up, "Ve~ Which one is the fullback?" he questioned innocently.

"Number sixty-one." Kiku answered clicking his shutter again.

"Ve~ That's Ludwig!." he chirped with excitement.

Deadpan, brown eyes looked up from the field, "You know him?"

"Ve~ I met him yesterday! He was the one who invited me to come!" the brunette was overflowing with his joyous energy.

"Hmm very interesting..." Kiku said to himself, neither of the other teens had heard him.

Arthur though was now standing there extremely worried. That fullback. He's, he's huge, the size of a monster on steroids. That kid could not be in high school.

All three heads turned up and the crowds grew quiet when the whistle for half time was blown and the football players started to either re-hydrate on the sidelines or go into the locker rooms to get some air away from the loud noise and crowd.

Arthur noticed that as another very tall and muscular teen walked by Kiku, a soft looking brunette had winked at the raven giving a shy smile and the Japanese teen blushed in response. That was weird.

"Oh, hallo Feliciano. You actually made it!" a blond teen with bright blue eyes came smiling towards Arthur's friend causing the fuzz of hair at his nape to stand on end.

"Ve~ Hello Ludwig! You're doing great out there! I think..." he trailed off as he realized that he really didn't know what this teen's job was on the team. He began to admire the sweat slicked blond hair as the German teen ran his long fingers though the golden strands. His face heated up.

"I take it that you don't watch American football," he spoke smiling with the rush of the game. Feliciano nodded solemnly, "No matter, I'm glad you came. Sorry but I need to go into the locker rooms. I'll see you around." he waved as he followed some of his teammates into the room and the Italian waved back with a large smile on his face.

During that time Arthur had watched the scene with a burning feeling in his chest. He didn't like watching his best friend be so easy around others. Wasn't he supposed to be the only one who understood the brunette? He was so caught up in his petty envy that he didn't realize when his own blond began creeping up on him.

The start quarterback was running off the field waving at the crowd but stopped when he saw a fuming Brit standing at the gates with Ludwig and some small brunette. He was surprised to see the punk actually in a social environment. Alfred finally figured that he had to use the art of silence to get anywhere near the teen, that was, until he got within perfect ear shot, "Hey, Arthur my man!" he yelled waving as he ran towards the Brit. When he had spoken the marching band had started up and the Brit could not hear Alfred's hello.

He nearly shit bricks when he turned around to see blue orbs staring into his eyes. "'Holy hell!" he yelled, "At least fucking let people know when you're approaching you daft bastard!" he screamed jumping two steps back.

"YOU'RE at a football game?! I never knew you liked sports! Why don't we get along better if that's the case?!" the dirty blond started, ignoring the look on the flustered Brit's face.

"I don't you bloody wanker! My friend dragged me!" Arthur began to defend himself.

"Really? So you don't li-"

"Damn it Alfred, get your ass in here so we can go over next quarter's game plan!" the quarterback turned to see a fuming coach standing at the doors to the locker room.

"Oh sorry, I'll be right there!" he yelled before smiling warmly at the shorter blond, waving before heading in for the halftime break.

What the hell is wrong with him?

The blond looked out angrily at the field for the rest of the game. Really the only thing he liked about the whole thing was watching the marching band put on their show. They always did such a wonderful job, the blond knew this because his guitar class would often pop in to check out their rehearsals on the days where they just chilled.

His school's football team obviously won that night: 34-9. It was awful. The visiting team didn't stand a chance, not that the Brit cared all that much. By the end he and Feliciano were about to head home when the Italian suddenly stopped and looked at his punk friend.

"Ve~ Umm sorry Arthur, is it all right if I go try to find Ludwig to thank him again for inviting us?" he asked looking hopefully to his friend.

You mean invited you. "Uh yeah, sure dude. Just be careful." he said shrugging and waving the brunette goodbye for the night.

"Thank you Arthur! I'll text you tonight!" he waved smiling and hopped back into the crowd to find the scary German.

Feliciano had hummed, he figured that perhaps Ludwig would still be in the locker room dressing out and was sure that the new football star would be joining his teammates for celebration that night so he needed to hurry if he wanted to properly say thank you. True, the Italian had only recently just met the blond but he felt a sense of familiarity with the teen. He felt safe, comforted. Out of all the scary teens who look like they were on steroids, Ludwig was the least scary.

The brunette was about to lean up against the wall when he heard cackles coming his way. "Yo Vargas! I didn't know you liked football. Or do you watch it simply because you like to watch guys get all sweaty? Arthur's gay must have rubbed off on you." brown eyes whipped to the direction of the voice.

Uh oh.

Standing before him was The Group, minus the increasingly absent Antonio and the well known Frenchman for some reason. The blond teen that was mouthing off to him now was Simon Densen, a devilish grin on his face.

They drew nearer.

"You know," Yong Soo began, "Your buddy got a good beating the last time we came face to face. What was that? A week ago? Far too long, don'tcha think? It couldn't have been fair for Eyebrows to get all the love last time so we thought that we would give you some attention too."

Feliciano soon found himself trapped and surrounded, his back against the brick building, only Yong Soo, Simon, and the dreaded Ivan blocked his freedom, Roderich idly stood by with the Cheshire cat grin on his face, arms folded across his chest and hips weighted on one side and the Italian couldn't help but think that he looked like a girl in that pose. So he let out a small laugh.

"The hell do you think is so funny Vargas?" the blond inquired.

"U-um, nothing Simon." he muttered covering his mouth.

"Oh really?" Yong Soo tested.

They came closer but the brunette saw a small opening and without thinking tried to make a mad dash to the safest part right now. Outside that ring.

As he began to duck underneath two arms, he felt a hard blow delivered to his abdomen, pushing through and shoving him against the wall. A large hand pressed against his chest to hold him above the ground.

"Hello Vargas. I would very much like to continue my lesson with you that you tried to skip out on last week, da?" silver hair glistened in the sun, violet eyes closed and a soft smile was coldly placed upon the Russian's sculpture like features. His hair was dripping water droplets, he had just got out of the shower after the game, as he was the school's top linebacker.

His hand balled into a fist, power being pulled into the muscular arms.

"Ve~ Don't hurt me! I'm sorry!" Feliciano held up his arms in defense, "Please anything but the face, don't hit me in the face!" he begged but the Russian teen's biceps kept recoiling back and besides the loud noises of the insults being thrown at him left and right, everything else was silent.

He felt the air of the punch hit him first.

"Vat are you doing?!" the air stopped.

A brown eye peeked open from behind a lid, taking in the look on Ivan's face. His face was turned to something else. He dared to glance at whoever it was. What he saw shocked him. It was that tall German whom he came to see. Blue eyes scared the Italian, they were fierce, an animalistic look colored them. Ludwig.

"Oh hello Ludwig. Great game today, da? You did a great job." a thick Russian accent spoke, the soft smile still placed on his fine lips. "Hello to you too Antonio." he said directing a third of his attention to the Spaniard. One third for Ludwig, one third for Feliciano.

"H-hey." Antonio replied uncertain. He didn't like this, he wanted to keep their violent activities away from Ludwig, and worse yet, they were giving both of them the look like they had to join in. Or else.

"Vat are you doing to Feliciano?" the German teen was still staring angrily at the position in which they were holding the underdog. His accent which he had hid so well so far was starting to seep through the longer he had to watch a helpless peer get tormented.

"Who? Vargas?" Simon began, "Oh we're just playing. No harm no foul." he moved towards the German, his arms outstretched in feign innocence.

"Zhat doesn't look like playing to me. Let him go." he said sternly.

"Beilschmidt." His last name was spoken coldly and he looked to the Russian who still held the squeaking Italian with a vice grip. "This is none of your business, da? I suggest you leave." Violet eyes tried to look intimidating as he pushed down on the brunette's rib cage, bones popping under the force of the palm and the brick altogether. He gasped.

Ludwig began to walk into the half circle, he was going to attempt at freeing the helpless teen, "Wait Ludwig." Antonio reached out to stop him but his hand caught nothing but air as the blond continued down his path.

A large hand grabbed the forearm of Ivan Braginski, "Let him go." blue eyes spoke sternly to deaf violet orbs.

The Russian's face grew completely emotionless, his fist that was still poised swung and leaned into Feliciano's face and in a split second that stiff air became alive. Everything ran in slow motion for everyone but the Italian. He could feel as his nose was hit for the second time in a little over a week, his body being released, falling to the hard ground, crimson streams flowing from his nose and mouth. Blood. So much blood. His eyes brimmed with tears from the pain.

When the little teen's face made contact with a pale fist, the German had sprung into action, pulling the Russian away and dealing him a good punch square in the jaw. Ivan retaliated, fists began swinging and everyone in The Group added to the mix, sounds of flesh beating against flesh filling the air. Ludwig couldn't see, he didn't need to see. He saw and heard nothing but static. What he was doing was right, it was just. He knew that Feliciano would never start a fight. He didn't seem the type. So why were they picking on him?

The number of times the blond was getting hit dimmed down until he felt numb. He had swung his leg to hit Yong Soo's head. He threw Simon a few times. He was first trying to protect some one he hardly knew and now he had to protect himself.

"Ludwig! Ludwig! Stop, you got them. Stop!" he felt strong arms pulling him back and it took him a moment to stop refusing the pull, his breath came in short heavy pants as he stared at his finest work.

The Korean and Danish teen were picking themselves up, backing away from the beast. Ivan, on the other hand, sat on the ground. A bump was forming on his cheek and he glared daggers at the German. He stood up and brushed himself off, turning another evil glare but pointed it at the Italian and Roderich.

"This isn't over yet, Vargas. Beilschmidt." He turned to the blond, "You're on my list now. You too Antonio." he said this as he walked away. The other spiteful teens followed suit.

Ludwig ran his fingers through his messy hair before he looked down at the brunette who's nose was still gushing like a fountain. He went to stand above the sniveling teen, taking off his shirt and revealing his rippling abs that began to show signs of bruising. He squatted to his level, handing him his shirt to hold to his nose.

"You okay?" he murmured quietly as Feliciano tried to lift his head back, "No, tilt your head down, you don't want to choke on your blood," he instructed as he leaned the Italian's face down gently.

"Ve~ Dank you Ludwig, but you shouldn't have done dat." Feliciano said this with the most sincerity though he sounded stuffed up.

"Why?" he asked, the mask of his accent being placed back on.

"You got hurt doo," he spoke as his hand went up to brush up against a gash that lied right above a furrowed blond eyebrow, the teen flinched at the stinging pain.

"Doesn't matter. Where I come from, bullying is not tolerated, my vater always told me to stand up for those who can't stand up for themselves." he said as he began to help Feliciano from his pathetic position.

"Ludwig I-" Antonio began but was caught off with the raising of the blond's hand.

"You're associated with those bastards, and I will like to have a word with you later. Right now you and I are going to take Feliciano to your house to make sure he's all cleaned up and okay." he said as he led them to the school parking lot.

"Ve~ Danks again Ludwig for saving me." he smiled up to the teen.

With faint red cheeks and a smile he answered, "Of course Feliciano. I will help you from now on."

He gasped at the soft touch of fingertips racing across his skin. Goosebumps rising to the cool breath that blew across his ear. The sensations were all too much. He could melt into this embrace.

Damn it.

When will he forget me?

a/n: So here are some fun facts: Pennsylvania Dutch pancakes are real, the recipe I work with is actually a family recipe, I mentioned Tim's great grandmother as a tribute for my own who loved this recipe with all her heart. The Pennsylvania Dutch settlers were actually German though because they are so similar there isn't a huge difference. (Thank you great grandma for being the only one who really cared about me, I love you and miss you dearly).

How'd you all like the addition of Heracles and that little moment at the end? Depending on your reviews that will further with possible lemons. :3

To NBER1HOBO and fans that would like this little bit of info: I promise to add Spamano in the future chapters. That is all.

I hope you all liked this really long chapter, please review! You guys always make my day :)

Tomorrow is America's birthday! To fellow Americans, have fun celebrating and don't go blowing up houses! Have a happy Fourth of July everyone!