I had a lot of fun with this chapter lol enjoy. . .

Arthur's POV

I woke up on the floor. That made two days in a row. I rolled over and almost screamed. There was another human on my bedroom floor. I jumped up, then remembered. Alfred. Of course.

He didn't stir, and barely rolled over when I dropped a book on his face. I sighed. It wasn't a hardcover, but still. How did he function when it was so impossible to wake him up?

I found jeans and a tee shirt, then went downstairs to find something to eat. There wasn't much, but I found some fruit, bread, and an avocado. I toasted the bread, spread the avocado on it, and sliced the fruit. This would work.

"Alfred. Alfred! Alfred wake up already you bloody idiot!" I yelled when I returned to my room. He mumbled something in his sleep and rolled away from me. I set the plates down on the bed and knelt on the floor.

"Alfred!" I screamed in his face.

He woke up. That was a fact. He sat up so fast he slammed his forehead into mine, and I flew backward.

"What was that for?" he asked.

"I should ask you the same thing," I replied, standing up and brushing off my jeans. "You weren't waking up, so I did what I had to do. I made breakfast."

I handed the plate down. He looked at it, then started eating. He ate at a concerning pace. He was almost finished, and I was only halfway through my toast.

"Always a gentleman," he muttered.

I wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean. Yes, I had manners. It was almost as if he knew me longer than a week. I decided to think about it later. Instead, I finished my breakfast and managed to find a shirt for him to use for school.

(Time skip brought to you by Germany)

It was a miracle, but we made it to school on time. Alfred went his way, and I went mine. When I reached the music room Ludwig's older brother Gilbert, Antonio, and a quiet Swiss named Basch Zwingli were already there.

This was my band. Gilbert and Antonio had their guitars, and Basch was behind the drums. I grabbed my bass, and without a word we started. Our playing was flawless, and Antonio's singing was perfectly on pitch. We moved from song to song without having to stop to talk to each other.

The music moved, it twisted and bended. This was our place. This was our room. Basch and I pounced a powerful background, while Gilbert on an electric guitar and Antonio on an acoustic matched each other perfectly. Somehow Antonio was able to be heard above us.

I didn't know how many songs we had played, or what they were. We read each other so well it was easy to get lost. We didn't go in any sort of order, we were able to go along without one.

The first bell rang. Gilbert swore as he struggled to get everything packed. We had five minutes. We had all gotten so lost that we failed to notice the time. It was a great way to start the day. It was what I needed in the morning.

Somehow we made it to class on time. The four of us skidded into biology with a second to spare. We dove into the back row just as the bell went off. Our normal teacher wasn't there. This was a man called Mr. Ackerman, and it looked like the four of us were about to get killed. At first I tried to ignore it, but the man was incredibly short.

We spent more than half of the class going over punctuality and organization. This man was strange. He had an interesting personality, and was very rough. He knew what he was talking about. At some point in time he started dusting the shelves and the desks. Anything we had on our desk was fair game. He would pick it up, clean the desk to his satisfaction, and set it back down.

The class was stunned. He seamlessly transitioned from the importance of keeping things dusted to the lesson we were supposed to have. Any student in that room would have begged to have him as a permanent teacher. Somehow his moving around didn't keep us in that awkward place between bored to death and asleep. The material was actually interesting.

The next period was torture compared to Mr. Ackerman's lesson.

I sat down next to Alfred in third. Seeing him reminded me of his comment earlier.

I spent the entire period zoned out, trying to figure out what he meant by "always a gentleman." That's not what I would classify myself as. Just because I had more manners than the rest of the school didn't mean that I was completely a gentleman.

It was like he knew something I didn't.

Alfred's POV

I could tell that Arthur kept looking over at me. He was thinking about something, but I wasn't sure what. It kept on all the way until lunch.

"Well Arthur, it's time."

He glared at me and started off down the hallway. We passed the room I had biology in the period after lunch. He paused at a door that I had never stopped to look at before. After taking a deep breath he opened the door.

It was extremely dark, and I had to wait for my eyes to adjust. As they did I started to make out the shapes of instruments. There were two guitars, and electric and and acoustic, sitting next to each other behind a microphone stand. Off to the side sat a little bass guitar with a Union Flag pattern on it. There were drums behind it, with the drumsticks set nicely on the snare drum.

I gave Arthur a crooked grin.

"Why is this such a secret? Who are the other members? The bass is yours, correct?"

He glared at me while answering.

"It's a secret because we want it to be. Gilbert Beilschmidt plays the electric, Antonio Fernández Carriedo on acoustic, Basch Zwingli on drums," he muttered. "Happy now?"

"Yeah, this is great!" I sat down on the drummer's seat. "So you practice during lunch because of your family? When do you practice with the others?"

"Yes, I do. We practice first period. Now will you leave so I can get in a periods worth of playing?"

"Heck no," I laughed. "I'm going to stay here and listen."

Arthur hadn't looked this scary before. Maybe it was just the darkness.

" No, you will not. Go. Or sit here by yourself. I could always go to the library, Ms. Matsouka would be happy to see me," he spat.

I wasn't sure what to do. One part of me said that I should run while I could. The other part told me that I needed to press forward.

I got up slowly, like you do when you're trying not to upset and angry animal. I mumbled a quick goodbye and made my way into the hallway.

I was backing a little away when I turned around around, only to be face-to-face with someone I didn't recognize.

He was short. Incredibly short. He didn't look very happy. His eyes were narrowed and his mouth was a thin line. I was worried for my safety. Maybe I should've just stayed in the music room and faced Arthur.

"S-sorry," I managed to squeak.

"No problem," he replied. His voice was deep and smooth. It did nothing to reassure me.

He walked around me and I hurried down the hall. I wasn't particularly hungry, so when I reached the lunchroom I sat down without getting anything to eat. Vladimir had sent me lunch money, but today I would stash it for later instead of using it.

All through lunch I couldn't help but look at Gilbert and Antonio a little different. Gilbert had never mentioned a high school band to me. Maybe Arthur had sworn him to secrecy, or something like that. As loud as he wa, Gilbert could keep a secret. Basch Zwingli was a name I recognized from the Academy, even if we didn't talk much.

When lunch ended I headed straight for my locker, then headed to class. I saw Arthur as he made his way out of the music room. He nodded at me and disappeared into the crowd.

I walked into biology and stopped dead in my tracks. It was him. The short scary man that I had run into while leaving the music room.

He smiled at me as I made my way to a seat in the back. Once everyone was settled he started talking.

Class with Mr. Ackerman was an experience. He made biology interesting. We got more done than usual, but somehow spent half the time talking about real life matters. For the first time, I enjoyed the hour I spent in that room. I walked away smiling.

I got to art and looked at my project. I had started to draw the outlines of the people. I wasn't sure what I was doing, my subconscious mind was taking over.

I didn't say a word the entire period. I worked and worked and worked. At the end of the period I paused, horrified. Where had my mind gone?

They didn't look exactly like the people in real life. I was the only one who could tell. It was Allistor as I imagined him. He was Ludwig. It was a younger version of Arthur's father, and he was Lovino. There was another version of Arthur's father there, in place of Antonio. He had similar features, but he looked younger and had different eyes. And Arthur. I couldn't see the face of him, but he was young. About the age he was in the picture. The tears flew back and splattered the "camera lense" that was capturing the picture.

Allistor was angry. You could tell that the anger was directed at the father. But the look on his face didn't show anger. It was something a lot stronger. Maybe it was love. Maybe it was compassion. I wasn't sure. But whatever it was, the stronger emotion was for Arthur. The person who was Antonio wasn't helping Allistor. He looked as if he were about to attack Arthur. Allistor was screaming. Screaming at Arthur to run. Screaming at the father to back off. Screaming at the world for doing this to him.

I backed up slowly. Where had this come from? I hadn't thought about what I was drawing. It just came out of my mind, through my hand, into the pencil, and onto the paper.

I knocked over a shelf or two in my backing away. For the second day in a row the class was staring at me and Mr. Vargas was failing to get my attention.

I decided that this class was bad for my sanity.

(time skip brought to you by Greece's cats)

I walked out of the building in a daze. After escaping Mr. Vargas and his concern I barely made it through the rest of the day. Now Kiku and Arthur were both hovering over me like concerned parents, trying to figure out what was going on in my head. I wasn't sure myself, and even if I was sure I doubted I'd tell them.

It wasn't that they weren't like brothers to me. It was just that this had come out of my mind. It was my problem. This was something I had to do on my own. No help from them, no magic from Vladimir. I couldn't stop their moral support, but that I think I needed.

Kiku had told Arthur what happened. Luckily he hadn't put everything together and recognized the young Arthur. Neither of them got it. Neither of them understood that I was panicking. Why had my brain conjured that image? Mr. Vargas had praised me for the detail and care put into it. I told him I wanted to start over. He said that I should pursue it, it could lead me somewhere. Yeah, it was leading me somewhere, that's for sure. A sweet little place called insanity.

Either way, I bent to his will and agreed to continue the project. I wasn't sure if I would be able to, but I might as well try.

I distantly heard Kiku say goodbye. I was still in a daze. I felt Arthur's callused bass guitar-playing hand on my shoulder, steering me. My mind told me that this was the way back to his house. What if Allistor was there? Before the drawing I would of been angry at him for the way he treated Arthur. Now I wasn't so sure.

When we made our way through the door I slid down the wall and put my face in my hands. Arthur sat down next to me. That was nice and fine. It was the next part that almost shot me to Mars.

It was cautious. But it was something. He put his arm around my shoulders and gave me a bit of a side hug. I could just barely feel his heartbeat off to my left.

"Alfred? You here, mate? I'm assuming you can hear me. Look, I don't know what happened. Kiku's account wasn't all that descriptive. Whatever it was, you'll sort it out. I believe in you. You can talk to me if you want, but I won't force you. Some things you just have to do on your own."

With that he got up and walked into the other room.

I was stunned. Too many things had happened in a day. Who was this boy? Was this really Arthur? Had someone taken control of his body?

But it did seem familiar, in a odd way. He had done this before. He had comforted me. This was his method. It was calm, not to aggressive. But it was special, it was something that worked miracles.

I thought back to my day. The morning, a nice normal morning with Arthur and his weird idea of spreading avocado on toast. Classes. Arthur's strange behavior, his lack of attention and the strange amount of times he kept looking over at me. Then it was lunch, and I figured out his big secret. Mr. Ackerman, why did he stick out in my mind? I would deal with him later. Then art. And Arthur's comfort.

My mind cleared, just for a second.

Food and a nice long nap. The recipe for success. I dragged myself up and followed Arthur into the kitchen.

Arthur's POV

Alfred had fallen asleep the second he sat down on the floor. I snuck a pillow under his head and gave him a blanket. There wasn't much worse than being going to sleep stressed and waking up with a stiff neck.

I made my way back downstairs. For a while I busied myself cleaning. It was pointless. I wasn't accomplishing much. I glanced over at my father's office, and found myself slowly gravitating toward it. I gave in to my impulses and made my way inside.

Sighing I slumped down into his chair and stared at the picture on the wall. Why? What had I done? How did I tear this family apart? Was it really my fault? Or was it just and excuse to get away from us all?

"Why father? Why did you leave? What did I do?" my face fell into my hands, as Alfred had done in the entryway. It was strange, how normal it felt to comfort him. Like I would do the same thing for a large portion of my life.

"Because," rumbled a voice. "It was better for you all."

I jumped, roused from my thoughts. The chair fell over backwards. Time slowed down.

He stood in the doorway, leaning casually against the doorframe. It was the exact way I had when Alfred was in this room. It was the exact way he had done when I was young. He was so familiar, but so far away.

We stared at each other. Seconds, minutes, hours, eternity. I wasn't sure how long it had been. The air was heavy. Nothing moved except the people in this room. It reminded me of playing with the band. This was the dark side of the force that filled the practice room when we played. I wasn't sure I was breathing. His eyes studied me, taking in everything that had changed since he left so long ago. My height, my hair, my eyes. The strength that I had accumulated from holding a bass and lugging amplifiers back and forth. The calluses from the thick strings. How bushy my eyebrows had become. He saw it all.

And I studied him.

He looked very similar. A bit of the youthful light had left his eyes, but not much. His hair was still in a ponytail, not an inch longer or shorter. The color was the same. His eyes were still violet. Everyone said they had too much blue in them to be violet. They were wrong. As I stood there looking at the obvious things like his hair and eyes, I remembered how well I knew him. I remembered his scent, the scent that lingered in this room to this day. I remembered the way he talked, how the words rolled off his tongue. I remembered all of the little things that I thought I had forgotten. The things I made myself forget.

Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. This was real, I was sure of it.

"Hello, Arthur," he said. The tears rolled down my cheeks, the battle to hold them back forgotten.

"Hello, Father."

. . . The cliffhanger mwahaha (idk I just ended the top authors not here should I not do that? )