This was a very messy chapter so it may be a bit iffy here and there ^^ I guess Alfie being a homophobe did throw a total wrench in all the USUK-ness but oh, well, love's a bitch.

Thanks to: alguien22792, rherhe23, CoolBreeze89, too lazy to login, CelestialCiel, Drawing Flower, ApathyReignsSupreme, jillyred, and Double 0 Ninja. Your reviews, story alerts, favorites, etc., are much appreciated ^^

And back to the drama llama...

"He…he is?" Arthur asked, genuinely shocked.

No wonder he'd acted as he had, Arthur thought bitterly, not being able to help the now biased opinion he held towards the American. Arthur had come across his own fair share of homophobes in the past and could certainly say that they were not pleasant at all. The Brit didn't exactly prefer men, per se. Nor did he prefer women. And he definitely did not prefer inanimate objects either. In fact, Arthur didn't know quite what he was. Simply a stranger to love in general. But homophobes, as homophobes went, did not really care as long as you were a viable target. Arthur threw a pointed look at the younger twin as he crossed his arms protectively over his chest. Matt shrugged in response, albeit a little awkwardly about the situation. His indigo eyes glanced around and seemed to scrutinize the Brit. They weren't unkind eyes, but certainly wary.

"It'd probably be best to explain it to you. I have a feeling you'll be around for a long long time Arthur" he said slowly, a strange look crossing his face as he grew thoughtful.

"Explain what?" Arthur muttered.

"It'll matter" Matthew said in reply as he stood up "Protecting my twin's honor and his good name and all that chivalrous crap"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. Matthew was trying to protect his twin's honor? So he did have a small bit of that hero complex in him as well, though not as obnoxiously evident as his brother's. Maybe it ran in the family. The Canadian offered to make coffee for everyone and took their requests, Francis' as a macchiato, the Italians' as cappuccinos, Gilbert's with a shot of tequila, and Ludwig's, Antonio's and Alfred's as straight black. Matthew motioned for Arthur to help him, taking the opportunity to get the two of them alone in the kitchen. The Englishman obliged suspiciously.

"Everyone else knows, so I don't see any reason why you shouldn't" Matthew explained as he set the coffee maker on high "Or else it could get really really messy, having to explain all this without you knowing"

Arthur sat himself down at the kitchen table, too intrigued to say that he didn't care. He watched the blonde flit around the kitchen, taking down the ingredients he would need. He seemed to know exactly where everything was. Either he came to the trio's place often, or he had an incredible memory. Arthur wondered what such explaining would need to be done.

"I guess it was when we were children." Matthew began, still bustling around "Al was the kid who constantly walked around with his arm in a cast. It's a miracle he can still use his arm as he does now. He'd get it broken all the time, playing outside, fighting, while playing sports. He was always the brave one like that, you know? So it was some time in the summer when we were 8. We were playing baseball at the neighborhood park when this car pulled up. It wasn't all that weird, since it had been hanging around for a while and the people didn't seem bad. They'd talk to us sometimes. On the fifth or so day, the car came over again but the people in it were different. They came to talk to us and it kind of scared us, the way they were acting. I'm sure you can guess what happened next."

Matthew trailed off quietly as he sat down across from the Brit and waited for the coffee to brew. It was clear that he hadn't revisited the memory in a very long time. Arthur nodded slowly, prompting the boy to continue. Matthew blinked almost sleepily as the smell of coffee wafted around the kitchen but folded his hands together in front of him.

"Well" Matt said "You know how Al has such a hero complex with everything"

"Yes…I've noticed" Arthur replied in a wry voice with the barest hint of sarcasm.

"They came after me first, since Al was pretty big for a kid his age. And I guess it was instinctive for Al to come to my rescue. Only, in the process of doing that, he was the one that got taken. It was just so damned stupid of him. The entire situation was everything that they had taught us was NOT right in school. So I did what they always tell kids to do. Go find an adult to help. I went home and got my mother. This was just before they, she and my father, separated."

"And?" Arthur said, inwardly cursing himself for how childishly curious he sounded.

"They found him 3 days later" Matt said quietly. "He'd basically been sexually abused. And it was by mostly by men."

"Oh"

Arthur was at a loss for words. Alfred, if anything, was the farthest thing from a victim he'd ever imagined. The Brit had heard stories of women, young boys, children who had been kidnapped and gone through the same thing but he'd never really taken it seriously. It was serious, of course, but he'd never known or met anyone who'd had to face the situation. It was strange to know that someone he knew as a person had had it happen to them. The Brit fidgeted a little as he dwelled on the thought. He felt like he'd suddenly intruded into someone's personal life, one where he didn't belong. But it was impossible to unhear the story. Not when it completely dissipated the generally sunny disposition Alfred called his own.

"It's been 11 years since then" Matt concluded, rising as he heard the coffee maker bleep "And thank God we found him then. If it was later, I'm not sure what would've happened. Al's not one to really let it show, and time has helped him get over it. He, um, doesn't really mind being around people like that. He tries to see them as people, not what gender they prefer. Honestly, being around Antonio and Lovino has helped him a lot but he can't see two men loving each other that way or any other way. It….scares him."

"Why are you telling me this, Matthew?" Arthur questioned, still not rising from the table.

Matt smiled as he stirred in a generous amount of tequila into a mug that Arthur knew would be Gilbert's. The Canadian didn't seem all too disturbed by the fact that he was letting a stranger of a couple days know about his twin's past. Only saddened and fiercely protective.

"Like I said, I have a feeling that you'll be around with us for a long time" he spoke, shrugging "And Al's a brat but I can't have you thinking of him in that bad a way"

Arthur blinked and frowned. He still didn't like the amount of trust that was being put to him. It was just a little too much to bear, for comfort, that is. But nonetheless, he dismissed the discomfort, not wanting to be a trouble to Matthew, and stood up to help him. He took a tray into hand and followed the Canadian back into the living room, where they were met with much thanks. As Arthur passed Ludwig, Antonio and Alfred their coffee, a crease appeared between his eyebrows. It was hard to think of Alfred the same way he had before. In fact, what had he thought of the American as before? Nothing more than a bother, an acquaintance. And so he would continue to think of him as so. After he passed out all the drinks, he suddenly found himself without one. Matthew offered to go back for some more coffee, already having his own maple scented cupful but Arthur denied it. He'd never really liked coffee, hated it, in fact. It was too strong for his tastes, which was a bit contradictory considering how much alcohol he could drink. Well, it didn't really take that much to get him drunk; the problem being that he kept drinking even after. Which was a bit stupid, but whatever. Alfred was clearly shocked out of speaking when he heard that Arthur hated coffee. It was practically blasphemy to him. The Brit smirked as he watched the American sputter about the awesomeness of coffee as he wandered back into the kitchen. If Francis lived here, then there was sure to be a teapot. True enough, after a good amount of rummaging around, Arthur found a teakettle. He poured some water into it and let it sit on the stove for a while. In the meantime, he searched the cabinet drawers for some tea. He hoped it was some good tea, considering that he was very particular about it, but then again, if it was French, he would probably hate it anyway. He searched all of the drawers and lower cabinets until there was only one top cabinet left. If there was tea at all in the damned apartment, it was sure to be there. Unless Francis was crazy and decided to use it for cosmetic purposes. Arthur attempted to reach for it and found that he was too short. Curse his height. He wasn't even that short, just….not as tall as the occupants of the apartment, apparently. He scowled and moved to grab a chair to stand on. Just as he found a short stool that wasn't dangerously high as the chairs, he heard a quiet thunk on the counter top behind him. He turned to find that it was Alfred. Again.

'Good God, how many times am I going to let this twat sneak up on me' Arthur thought, frowning as he set the stool down.

"Thank you" he said out loud, grabbing the canister of tea that Alfred had retrieved for him.

The American shrugged as Arthur inspected the label of the canister. It read: Marriage Frere, a tea company in France that even Arthur had to admit sold spectacular tea. And yes. Spectacular.

"They told me to tell you where the tea was, or at least that's what Francis said" Alfred replied, stretching his arms behind his head as a yawn forced its way out of him.

"I suppose they still remember my old habits" Arthur mused as he pulled out a mug.

"Old habits?" Alfred asked.

"Yes, old habits" Arthur replied off handedly "Tea's as much of a necessity to me as air is"

Alfred frowned. He'd never liked tea, hated it, in fact. He just didn't get it. It was like flavored water. Which sounded pretty gross, even as he thought about it. He voiced his opinions on the drink to Arthur who simply rolled his eyes in return.

"Coffee's the same, git" he retorted as the kettle whistled lightly.

"No it's not! It has way more substance than tea!" Alfred replied.

"It's still flavored water, you know." the Brit said, letting the tealeaves settle.

Alfred made a face but found that he couldn't really argue. He murmured a 'whatever' and walked back out into the living room, leaving a smirking Arthur chuckling. He was so childlike, even in the way he argued. The Englishman waited several minutes for the tea to steep, then grabbed the mug, testing it. He frowned immediately. He'd forgotten that it was nothing but the tea itself, and he always took his tea with sugar, no milk. He rooted around for some sugar, sure that he'd seen it somewhere, and stirred in a spoonful or two. After he was sure that his tea was somewhere close to perfection, he ambled back into the living room where he was met with a loud boom. Alfred, Antonio, Gilbert, and Lovino were playing some kind of battle type video game on Gilbert's prized X-Box. It was confusing to Arthur, as always, so he took a seat on the couch next to Ludwig.

The younger German had pulled out his reading glasses and was casually flipping through a book. What made Arthur smile though, was Feliciano snuggled comfortably into his side, his breathing slowing down into that of a young child in slumber. Ludwig didn't seem to mind; occasionally glancing down to make sure the Italian was still sleeping through all the noise. They made a peaceful picture, not like the crazy one Antonio and Lovino made. Arthur snorted to himself. They were total opposites, all four of them. Antonio must be a masochist to even put up with Lovino but love worked in strange ways. Not that Arthur would know, of course. The Brit took a deep sip. The tea was fruity and sweet, bitter notes poking out from where the sugar did not catch it. It was different from his preferred Earl Grey and occasional Ceylon but acceptable.

"What are you reading?" Arthur asked conversationally when he found that he was awkwardly staring off into space.

Ludwig looked up and was about to answer when Gilbert's loud voice shattered the air.

"It's probably some weird erotica stuff!" he snorted, not even trying to hide the smirk.

Ludwig flushed lightly and Gilbert cackled. The Prussian loved his big brother role, protectiveness, teasing, and all. In response, Ludwig held up his book to show Arthur one of Goethe's works. Arthur nodded; glad to know that someone else had the mind to read refined literature. The others definitely didn't. He looked down at his cup and drained the last of his tea, looking somewhat lonely as he blinked at the remaining dregs. He'd never done this before, sipping tea in a room with shouts of laughter, battle, and protest around him. He set the mug down on a side table and found Francis on the other side, talking in rapid French with Matthew. Arthur shuddered at the language and Francis' smirk widened, catching sight of the Brit from his peripheral vision.

"Isn't it about time your curfew starts?" the Frenchman asked, grinning, finding pleasure in reminding the crotchety Brit that he actually had one to begin with.

Arthur scowled but glanced down at his watch to find that, yes, curfew was about to hit. He rubbed his temples and took a few deep breaths. God, he hated the curfew so much. It made him feel like he was a teenager again. Only, though his teenage years had been a few of the best years of his life, they were also considerably the ones where he'd been the most rebellious. And that hadn't ended too well. He'd asked to extend the curfew later into the night since he explained where he would be going to Doctor Alaric but even then, it was early. The minute hand on his watch ticked closer to 10:00 as he stood up to grab his jacket.

"Any of you willing to drive me back?" he asked.

"That would be me" Francis prompted with a yawn "I'm the designated driver for tonight!"

"Oh joy" Arthur replied in a clipped tone.

Francis chuckled but he grabbed his car keys from the counter they were on and motioned towards the door.

"Shall we?" he asked formally, even opening the door for him.

"For the love of God, I'm not a bloody lady" Arthur muttered.

Shouts of goodbye were shot at him as he walked out the door. He smiled a little and said his own farewells to the group that was being left behind. The game had been momentarily paused for the event of someone leaving. Gilbert waved his beer bottle, which was most fitting, and Ludwig offered a nod, not wanting to move too much for fear of waking the still sleeping Feliciano. Lovino muttered something or other that was drowned out by Antonio's own farewell. Matthew smiled and waved cheerfully while Alfred shouted out a loud and obnoxious goodbye. Arthur walked out of the apartment to the sounds of the game being played again as the door shut behind him with a bleep. The two took the elevator down to the first floor and got into Francis' car. The ride back to the hospital was a pleasantly quiet one. There were the normal questions of 'how was your day', 'did you have fun' etc., that eventually trailed off into nothingness.

"What do you think about them? Lovino, Feliciano, the twins?" Francis asked at a red light.

"Well, what am I supposed to think about them?" Arthur asked with a question of his own "Lovino's….well, he's a bit prickly, if I must say so…."

"Oh please, cher, I don't want to hear that coming from you!" Francis chortled, laughing.

"Oh, shut up" the Brit said "As for the others, Feliciano's a good kid, though he's a little too ditzy, and Matthew, he's the only sane one, besides me. And Ludwig, I suppose. But Alfred. Oh God, how is Matthew even related to him?"

"What do you mean? They're very close, those two" Francis said, keeping his eyes on the road as he drove on.

"No, no, that's not what I meant. I mean, how can someone as sweet and quiet as Matthew even be related to someone as obnoxiously twat-like as Alfred?" Arthur asked, thinking to himself.

Francis laughed "Alfred's a good kid Arthur. He's the brightest of us all, honestly, and he can be serious when he wants to" the Frenchman assured "He's the exact opposite of you. That's probably why you don't get anything he does"

"Opposite, yes" Arthur grumbled.

The car turned into the driveway of the hospital and came to a halt before the front entrance. Arthur unbuckled himself from the shotgun seat and stepped out. As he shut the car door, Francis leaned across the seat so he could see Arthur through the open window.

"Think you can deal with us again?" he asked, trying to make the tone sound as if he really wasn't worried.

"If I can deal with you lot for a few days, I think I can for a good long time" Arthur replied.

"Alright then. See you later, rosbif " Francis replied, getting hold of the wheel again.

"Yes, good night to you" Arthur said off handedly.

The blonde walked towards the automatic doors and Francis' sleek black car pulled out of the hospital loop. Arthur checked in at the counter. He greeted the several staff workers that wished him good night as he made his way to his room. It was almost strange, actually. He'd come to know many of the people who worked and staffed the hospital but was never considerably close to any of them. He shrugged and entered his room. It was still a blank white color, glowing a steady blue in the dull moonlight that shone through that single window mounted high up on his wall. Arthur smiled a little sadly as he shut the door behind him. It was a sad sad place to live in, but it was what he called home. And it was home nonetheless. Arthur walked over to the far side of the room to the adjoining door. It had been locked for a long time yet but when he tried the handle, he found that it was open. He poked his head inside to find a restroom with a dresser tucked into one corner. He opened the drawer to find all of his clothes neatly folded and stacked. The staff had been very precise, Arthur noted with a smile. He supposed his habitual want for organization had rubbed off over time. He also noted that a good bit of his clothes held the crispness that always trailed newly bought clothes. A gift from his parents, he knew instinctively. It was supposed to mean something and it almost did. It meant that he was completely forgotten, though he was sure he was no longer in their affections anymore. He was trouble and 25, for Christ's sake. No doubt they'd heard that he'd been somewhat released form his confinement but he knew they wouldn't be there to visit. Last he'd heard, they were in some nondescript quiet country, steadily spending the remainder of their retirement money. Arthur sighed quietly to himself before selecting a well-worn T-Shirt and a pair of sweatpants. The new clothes would not be touched for some time yet. Arthur shrugged off his jacket, pulled his shirt over his head and tugged the new one on. Then he washed up for the night, avoiding the mirror. He'd stopped looking in mirrors, reflective surfaces, long ago. He'd never liked the image that was projected back and eventually, it became habitual. At the though, Arthur snuck a hesitant glance at the glass. And he wasn't quite sure if he was expecting what he saw. There were the green eyes, translucent yet vibrant with untamed, raw color. The large eyebrows that seemed to mark all Kirkland men, a sloped nose, and perfectly sculpted cheekbones that tapered off into a slightly share yet rounded chin. He looked the same as he had, with sullen patches of purple shadow ghosting under his eyes. But then he took a better look and decided that he had changed after all. His features, once large and overwhelming as a child and not much better as a depressed adult, had filled out evenly, giving and air of maturity about him. He'd gained weight since his last remembrance of the fragile wraith he had been. There was more color to his cheeks and his eyes held a certain solidness of life.

'At least it's for the better' the Brit thought absentmindedly as he dried off with a towel.

He wandered back into his original ward and allowed himself to collapse face down on the bed before rolling over. The ceiling, such a familiar ceiling, smiling down at him in all its blank off-whiteness. Arthur's thoughts spun back to the earlier events of the day.

'To a photographer, all the world's his subject'

The memory brought a slight smile to his lips. A child attempting to sound like an adult, his mother or father perhaps. But Alfred had looked so confident, so natural with that camera held in his hands.

'I know he doesn't seem like much, but you've never seen him hold a camera'

Now that he had, Arthur frowned a little. He was proven wrong, yes he was, but it wasn't that. Alfred didn't really seem like much, even now. A young college student, if anything. Yet there was that moment, at the park, when Arthur had realized that Alfred had as much a clue as to what he wanted from life as the Brit had. And what Matthew had trusted him with. No one had ever put that much trust in him in a long time. A very long time indeed. He squirmed around until he managed to find a comfortable spot on the bed. But he still felt a little off, like there was something bothering him and he couldn't quite place it. It was a lingering feeling that always managed to trace its way back to the current problems at hand. He'd always been like that, unable to let go of problems, but this was a stranger case. One that he wasn't familiar with.

'Why, exactly, do I think so much about this' he wondered, bewildered. 'It's definitely not doing me any good'

And with such thoughts, he rolled over and forced himself to sleep.

Across town, on the second floor of a university dormitory, second door to the right, was Alfred. He lay in a similar position to Arthur, face up on his bed and staring at the ceiling. But his ceiling was different. It was a dull gray color and maybe there was a water leak. Alfred couldn't tell. It could have been a coffee stain for all he knew. His arms were tucked behind his head as his chest rose and fell in the steady rhythm of his concentration. Matthew had told him that he'd explained everything to Arthur. Alfred felt uncomfortable about that. It wasn't the first time Matthew had seen the need to tell certain people his story at the younger twin, terrible at keeping secrets from his brother, always always always told him. Alfred trusted Matthew more than anyone else in the world. But when the younger, gentler twin had informed him that Arthur, the finicky old Brit that they'd known for a week, now knew about Alfred's certain condition and what had happened, Alfred caved in a little.

It felt…well, weird.

He didn't really know why, since he was totally fine with the others knowing and all. But Arthur wasn't like the others. He wasn't as cheerful or as mischievous or as really loose as the others. While they acted almost younger than their ages, he acted a good bit older. And that scowl that he always wore, closed in on himself. The scar Alfred had noticed across his wrist and then the other across his throat, told him much more than the Brit ever would and the look in his eyes, not sad, per se, but lonely. Deep and lonely. The one moment that did him any justice though, was that at the park. When Alfred had caught sight of the familiar Brit, he just kind of stopped and stood there, camera in hand. He'd looked quite content with himself, sitting all alone on a park bench and staring out into a green glass lake. Alfred couldn't resist snapping a few pictures. The blonde sighed as his fingers twitched involuntarily towards the camera that sat at his bedside table. He willed himself not to grab it and look for the certain pictures. It was only after he'd announced his presence that the Brit that become a closed pair of doors again. Like one of those puzzles he and Matt loved to do when they were just kids. But what was Arthur like? Did he hate him now, more than he seemed to, since he'd learn that Alfred was a homophobe, that he was tainted? Was he disgusted or did he not care? Did he understand? The American rolled over on his bed and found his face pushed into a soft downy pillow.

"Why do I care so much?" he asked to no one in particular, voice muffled.

No one responded. So Alfred threw his clock at the wall.

At the trio's apartment, the gaming continued, ranging over a large variety of games. Lovino peered through intelligent eyes as he watched the doorway through with Arthur had left. He absentmindedly rubbed at the lengthy scars across his wrists. Memories, or, rather, reminders from his cutting days. But those days were behind him. Only, he wondered if such days were behind the Brit as well. He couldn't have been the only one that saw the barest hint of the scar across Arthur's throat. It was quite well hidden, under the shadow his chin made but it was quite visible. The only person who might not have noticed it would've been Feli, if he wasn't feeling up to being observant in his own ditzy way. But the Italian could see why no one had brought it up. It would have been too delicate a subject, one that would clash horribly with the group's normally out-of-beat yet happy air. And what Arthur decided to keep to himself, he would keep to himself. After all, they all had their own dirty little secrets. Actually, cross that. They knew most of each other's dirty little secrets but it was the deep dark ones that they left untouched. There. That fit better. Pleased with his metaphorical conclusion, he stretched lazily. Arthur was a strange person.

But probably not stranger than the rest of them.

"You see it, don't you" he asked, leaning into Antonio's ear and lowering his voice so that no one would hear.

"We all do, querido" Antonio replied.

"But you all act like you don't" Lovino said.

Antonio was silent for a moment, then he wrapped his arms around his Italian and buried his face in Lovino's neck. Lovino instinctively began to protest but a muffled murmur from the Spaniard stopped him. Lovino knew when Antonio was being serious and his normally fiery amber eyes softened as he ran a hand through Antonio's deep brown hair.

"Arthur knows we know. He's not stupid. But he didn't always use to be like that, you know" Antonio said, running a hand across the slashed scars on Lovino's wrists.

"No one who has those scars ever is" Lovino replied.

"Yes. It's sad when someone you know becomes someone you knew"

"Agreed, bastard"

A/N: I loved writing Francis in this one. Really, you can't have USUK with out France!

EXTRA: So, I want to include at least one crack couple in this fic. Ideas?

PLLEASE REVIEW. THEY ARE MY INSPIRATION AND MY PLOT BUNNIES ARE DYING.