I think if Arthur were to tell me, no, hold my hand and look into my eyes and say "everything's going to be alright," I'd know right away 'he really is the one.'

I've imagined such a scene over and over in my head. He'd look at me, half-pissed and half-serious, I'd try to cover up my smile by looking away as usual and biting as hard as I can on the inside of my mouth. Then we'd just look into each other's faces. That'd be enough to make me happy forever.

I laid in bed, all ready and dressed up for the party that would start in a few hours. My head had started hurting a bit, so I decided to give myself a nap. I laid in my cotton pillow, stroking my cotton white sheets, staring into the blurry open window into the darkness of the night I faced in my direction. I tried my best to frown, trying to keep my expectations low; Ivan said Arthur was coming. For the past month I have been planning this party in my head. After a few turn-down's, tonight was the night he'd finally come. But I knew better that anyone, that I should keep my expectations low. Say 'he's not coming, he's never coming, he never wants to see me, he isn't even trying, h"e doesn't even care.' I repeated that over and over in my head, so I would get used to the idea that when I come downstairs with a beautiful pink cake I had baked just for the occasion (him really), I wouldn't have to search for a spiky-haired blond with a foul-temper, bad mouth, and sweet voice. But that's not me. Nope. I already had the idea of him being there, no matter how many times I tried putting myself down, it didn't work. My mind had already made up its mind "he'll be there."

"Stupid, stupid, stupid me!" I mumbled to myself as I closed my eyes and clawed my hands in the bedsheets. I wanted to forget his stupid voice, his stupid kindness, his stupid thick-headedness, his stupid . . . stupid . . .

"-sigh- I must be pretty stupid myself for liking you so much," I said to myself. Is it pretty stupid to be this much infatuated with someone? Are people really so blind as not to see how vulnerable we are making ourselves to these people we say we 'love' and 'like'? I guess everyone is stupid, so stupid that it's normal. Yeah, must be it.

I want to sleep. Let me sleep thoughts.

My thoughts kept on racing and racing. What would he wear? Will he ignore me the first few minutes? Will he make a scene? Will he just act normal? IS he really just feeling normal? Am I the only one overreacting? Yeah, must be it too. 'Paranoid' would be the better word.

I love you Arthur!

I smacked my head real hard with my hand, so hard it hurts.

"OW ow ow!" I yelp. That's what I get for trying and screaming such a mad thought in my head. I try to think of something super negative. Something that will just make me want to punch my hand so hard in the brick wall, it will break and blood would gush. I think of that little kid in Sealand. Peter Kirkland. I flinch, thinking of how boiling angry I was when Matthew told me, and how much I wanted to yank Matthew's weird strand of hair just to take my anger out on something. And with that comment of feeling so relieved at the thought of taking my stress out on something, I fall asleep.

"Waah! Waaah!"

"What is it now? !"

"M-mean Francis took my toy."

"Where is he?"

"O-over there," a tiny hand, my tiny hand, points out at a couch.

"FRANCIS!" yelled Arthur as he practically flew over the room and pounced on Francis, where the two began a fight to the death. I stopped crying and watched in awe. That is such a nice thing.

That happened when I was very very young.

"WHAT?" I yelped, looking across a courtyard to see Arthur far off to the side. I frown. Matthew says he thinks Arthur is mad at me. I look down at my very muddy black shoes.

I must be dreaming, dreaming about past events with Arthur.

Well who can blame him? I'd be pissed to and avoid me if I stood up someone.

"Well, I'll see you later Matthew," I say as I wave goodbye to him, taking my tray with me to go eat with the other countries.

"W-where are you going?" asks Matthew, confused.

"To eat somewhere else, your Arthur's friend, I'm sure he'd appreciate sitting with you for lunch without me around. Bye," I smiled sympathetically as I headed for Ivan's table.

I sat there with Ivan and Kiku, couldn't help to keep peaking over every minute to see if Arthur was pissed or not.

"He's probably still pissed at you, stop checking up on him, you look weird," said Ivan as he chewed on his donut.

"It's not that," I say, a little mellow and serious.

"What is it?" asked Kiku.

"I was checking to see that he's okay."

"Of course he isn't, he's pissed!" exclaimed Ivan, almost laughingly. I frown even more, finding that unnecessary humor offensive. I sigh, knowing I'm the only one to be offended by that kind of simple thing and shove my trash in my tray and pick it up to leave.

"I was checking to see he's okay," I replied, knowing a further explanation would be a waste of breathe.

I was just checking to see he was alright and fine and that the anger he felt towards me didn't affect his relationship with anyone else. It looks like it didn't. So long as he was only upset with me gave me something to smile about for once. It's been more than 6 days he's been avoiding me. Well that's what everyone else is saying. Back then I was immature, and assumed the same thing. It wasn't, you later told me, right?

I remember I cried later that day, in front of the other countries and even Ivan.

"Why are you crying?" said Ivan, finding it very hard not to add 'this time' in the question.

I shook my head, finding my reason to be so stupid.

Later I told Ivan, "did you see him? Arthur? Later that day, he was smiling with those other people. Those other countries."

"What?" asked Ivan, startled by what I was 'whining' about, so he calls.

"He was laughing and smiling with them, and . . . and-!" I placed my face on my legs that I had bent up, hugging them as I cried during military practice.

I could never finish the sentence I had started because I was too embarrassed, even to tell Ivan, even to write down in my journal I had back home. But I still recall what I had wanted to say, after all this time.

Later, I noticed I DID in fact write it down somewhere, in the back of one of my favorite books as a-matter-of-fact.

"When I looked at Arthur, smiling and laughing about 12 steps away from me, it broke something inside of me. I stared at him, and his 'new' buddies, and then I looked down, at my muddy black shoes, and thought 'wow, he's having such a good time . . . without me in the picture.'"

Why had I felt so . . . left out? Sure, I knew his 'new' buddies, sure, he and I were in a silent shun, why had I thought 'oh, he won't do anything fun or half-as exciting without me around.' Repeating that thought in my head, I could hear myself saying it in a selfish, jerkish tone. Then I thought 'huh, I really must be a jerk then. Guess it just isn't acting out in front of others, it really is the real me.'

I had felt so betrayed, selfish, deserving of this 'punishment' of anguish and self-anger and ignorance. I didn't even feel bad for myself. So I rolled with these feelings, and did you the favor, Arthur, of distancing myself from you, Matthew, Ivan, Kiku, hell, even Gilbert, if that's what it takes to keep you smiling and happy like I had seen you with your 'new' buddies.

I'm replaced. I'm replaced. I have to deal with it, I've been replaced.

I couldn't get the crazy idea of being replaced out of my head. So what if I saw him laughing with a new friend or two? So what? ! I understood the idiocy of my worrying and crazy assumptions, yet, I was drowning in the feeling of loneliness. It wasn't that logic that got to me, the logic behind my paranoia and crazy assumptions that got me down, it was the simple, bashful human feelings that I just couldn't get out of my mind.

Loneliness, paranoia, replacement, betrayed, selfish. All those words came to my mind as I saw him with those 'new' buddies of his. I guess, in my whole life, if I ever had a traumatic experience, this would be one of them. People have the weirdest and most simple traumatizations, I see and hear about different kinds people have on TV. So, that feeling of something breaking in me was my signal, my body and mind and feelings telling me 'hey, you really don't like this. Not at all. You know what? I will make this a memorable event, in which the rest of your life, you will always remember this moment and it will bring you sadness and loneliness, no matter what.'

I hope not. I hope to one day, when I'm older, I can put this memory behind me. I already did with the loneliness and self-anger I had during this whole ordeal. Oh God, what if . . . Arthur . . . ?

At home, days after that public sobbing, I sat in my room, staring at my pen and pencil, and paper I had looked all around for.

Whenever I got depressed, I found it best to write it in paper. When I was most sad about a particular someone, I'd pretend I was writing them a letter, explaining how upset I was. I'd feel like I told them, and everything is fine thereafter, and I didn't even have to give the real Arthur the note and I spared the humiliation and laughs I'd probably get. Besides, I didn't want him to think I was some sort of weirdo. That's the least thing in the world. I wouldn't want him to avoid me and every time he looked at me to say in the back of his head 'this guy is so clingy and weird, having all this shit he calls feelings for me.'

So I wrote and wrote. About three letters. I threw two away, because I found them unnecessary. I kept one. I re-read it to myself several times. It was night time now. So, while Gilbert was over here, he helped me start a fire in my living room, in the chimney. I burned it.

"What were those?" he asks as he pokes thru the letters.

"Nothing, nothing important now," I said, cracking a smile as I looked at the burning letters.

"It has Arthur's name," he says as he pokes thru the paper. I can see it too. At the way corner of the page. I lift my muddy black shoe and stop into the fire.

"It's nothing, nothing at all," I say, still smiling as I helped the fire consume the letters faster.

Later, Arthur confronted me. We both shared a laugh, thinking we were angry with each other, when we were just cluelessly avoiding each other in the last few days. Some say we had a fight, some say we were avoiding each other. I say he was just being human.

"I wasn't avoiding you, I was just giving you space," I wish I could have said to him after we made up. I wish I could have.

That happened when I was a little older.

I slammed the door to my home. I run up the stairs as fast as I could. I slam the door to my room. I look at my bed. I have taken my glasses long before even running home. I feel my mouth start to quiver, my legs and arms still trembling. My eyes burning and stinging. I slowly sit on my bed after taking a big breath, and begin to weep. Weep like somebody just died. I cover my eyes, unable to stop myself from crying. Last time I cried so much was when I broke my arm, or was it my wrist? I can't recall. It's been very long I have wept like this.

I wipe my face quickly and go towards my closet, holding my neck with my hand; it gets very hard to breathe when I weep like I am now.

I sit at the bottom of my closet, and keep on crying. I'm so . . . so sad, I don't know what to do. I look at my hands. Not knowing whether I should keep holding my face or write my feelings out.

I just learned that we've wagged war with Arthur. And so, he was kicked out. And can't come back for a long period of time.

Did Arthur even try to stay here with us? With me?

I brush my eyes clean, so I can at least stare into my wooden, old creaky floor with a blurry vision.

What do I do now?

Well, I don't feel betrayed, or let down, what my crazy mind would usually have me thinking. I feel . . . so dull and stale. I feel my face go numb. I should have seen this coming. Something like this was bound to happen. But, I never did anything to stop it. I helped by making it even worse.

I cover my mouth, feeling sick.

I hadn't helped him stay here with us, with . . . . me.

I felt so sick, doing something so horrible to someone so important to me. I felt so sick, not doing anything about it. I felt so selfish, thinking of only wanting to help him just to keep him with me.

As I lay in bed now, calmed down, I reach under my pillow. There, I have a small album. In it, I look for a specific picture. I look for a picture of my friend Ludwig. Then I remember I never took one of him. Or Arthur. I laugh a little as I slide it back under my pillow. I reach under my bed, and grab a notebook and a pencil, and begin to draw.

I draw two things. One, a mental chibi of Arthur. Another, a mental verison chibi of Ludwig too.

I stare at them, thinking what they'd do or are doing.

Arthur's probably not worried one bit. He didn't seem like it when he told me. Then again he might be hiding it. He would. He's the type to sulk or keep it to himself. Man, he must really call out 'you moron!' whenever he's annoyed by me or I do something idiotic. I laugh, picturing how funny he'd look screaming that at me across a large room or something. Then I picture Ludwig. Oh, he'd give me one heck of a time! Ludwig would probably smack me in the face, saying I should feel terrible for not helping Arthur AND about feeling selfish in wanting to keep him just for my sake.

"You can't excuse your selfish desires for someone without them even knowing about it!" he usually says to me.

Later that night I go to sleep, my eyes terribly sore from crying so much. In the end, I knew he's probably sad. Having to re-adjust to a new lifestyle and everything. I start tearing up a little. Will he ask for help? Now he's alone. Not completely alone, but . . . alone.

As I pull the sheets over myself, I can't find it in my heart to even call or mail or anything. I want to give him space. Maybe he's feeling the same way too? Maybe he's being affected by loneliness? Maybe not. I decided that there's no way now I can tell him how important he really is to me, because, it might make him feel lonelier. Then, I think, maybe if he did know, he'd tell me how he feel s and then I could be of some use and help him fix everything. Maybe if I tell him, I can become more important and consider not just himself, but others he is affecting also with his decision . . . . like . . . me.

I bit the inside of my mouth, thinking how selfish that sounds. But I want to be selfish.

I fall asleep, after cutting out his and Ludwig's drawn picture's and put them in the first page of my album.

I must be really selfish, only thinking about how sad and bad I feel right now, wanting help to overcome these emotions, when really, I should be helping Arthur overcome any he is having right now. Why am I like this? I fall asleep, thinking about that question.

That happened in the beginning, when we were separated.

I see everyone gathering in the courtyard outside a large building. Everyone is going into their little groups of friends. I stand alone, in the center, not knowing where or whom I should go with. I look down at my new, clean shoes I got for this special event.

"Alfred! Alfred!" I hear someone call out. I turn. My whole face suddenly brightens up as I see Matthew. I smile as he runs up to me and grabs my left arm. I'm so happy he came back here.

"W-what is it?" I ask, so overwhelmed.

"Get him here faster! C'mon!" calls out Ivan, at the side of a wall. He grabs my other arm and tries to get me to walk faster, but I try to fight back.

"C'mon Alfred, quickly!" said Kiku in his funny voice as he pushes me forward by my back.

"What is it? Why are you guys acting this way?" I ask, laughing.

"You'll see," says Ivan.

They're leading me towards a corner of the building, where it's covered by shade of trees. I close my eyes for a bit, feeling the wind brush past my hair. I enjoy the silence of the moment.

"Why is it such a hurry? Nothing can be so urg-" I feel my voice slowly go away as we turn the corner. I feel my mouth open a little as I see a familiar spiky haired fellow with a crossed face and arms, staring at me.

"Let them have their moment," smiled Ivan as he shoved me at him. I press against him, and startled, I step back. I stare at him, terrified now. Like he isn't supposed to be here.

"W-what are you doing here?" I ask. What kind of question is that!

"What kind of question is that, idiot!" he yells.

"W-wa-" I utter.

"?" he looks at me puzzled.

I raise both my arms as high as I could and embrace him. I don't care if he struggles or not, I don't care if he doesn't like it, I shove my face on his left shoulder and start screaming.

"Waaa! Waaa!" I cried pathetically as I clung onto him.

"Tch," he replied, patting, no, hugging me back also.

"Aww, ain't that sweet?" replied Ivan sarcastically.

"Very," said Kiku.

"GET OUT!" I hissed at them as I kicked whatever sand there was on the ground at them. They scurry away.

"I thought you . . . not able . . . but I-" I stutter.

"C'mon lets go," he says as he grabs my sweaty and nervous hand. He starts leading us into the public. I nervously gulp.

"Are you nervous?" he asks.

"No, I'm excited," I crack a smile, meaning it. As soon as we step into the light of sun, a burst of confidence overwhelms me. As he looks, after a long period of time, at all the different faces that have come today for a special meeting, a reunion if you will. I peak at Arthur, who seems to not know where to start.

"The food. Hey, move out the way, I'm hungry and so is my good companion here! Out the way, shoo!" I exclaim as I start leading Arthur into the crowd. I shove people past us to the side as I make a path for Arthur. At the table, I grab a big plate and shove into it as much food as I can and then I lead him into a small table, several that were set up outside.

"Sit sit!" I say as I push the plate at him. He looks at me with the same face expression he has had this whole time.

"What's wrong?" I ask, the question that should be less used if you haven't seen someone in so long.

"I'm trying very hard . . . " he mutters.

Not to laugh? Get angry? Cry?

"I missed you," I start off," a lot. I'm not afraid to speak out anymore, afraid of sounding like a complete weirdo/sissy. But, I'm still shy. So, I wrote what I want to tell you, here, in this envelope," I say as I stick my hand inside my shirt and take out an envelope I worked countless months on, adding on and editing things, memories, feelings. He grabs it, and looks at me confused.

"You see, I was planning to send it to you today, coincidently. My friend Ludwig was supposed to help me mail it off later to y-"

"I don't need a stupid letter," replies Arthur as he drops it on the table. I look at him, stunned.

W-what? D-does he know? Is he . . . mocking me? Rejecting me? W-wha-?

"I already know everything." He says as he kicks the table separating us to the side. Food goes flying into the tiny area the animals some people had brought.

Before I could respond, I found myself falling, with my chair, behind and with me was Arthur, tackling me down. My face burns red, not knowing how to react as he keeps hugging me. Or is it now embracing?

"W-wa-?"

He whispers something.

"W-?"

He whispers it again, louder. My face turns beet red. I can literally feel my heart, hear it loud and clear. I slowly raise my hands, and stroke his hair.

"You weirdo," I say, smiling, and before I could see what happens to dream me and dream Arthur, Ludwig pops out of nowhere.

"What do you think you're doing? GO WORK ON IT!" he yelled, covering my whole view of dream me and Arthur, and pretty much everyone else and our surroundings. I feel him reach an arm somehow at me, though I can't see myself, I feel like I'm some camera, where I can see out of. And when I feel a pain in my throat, I wake up.

That last dream has yet to happen.

I shoot out of my bed and thud loudly on the floor.

"Alfred, party's about to start!" calls out Francis. I breathe quickly, as I'm trying to catch my breath.

"I-I'm there," I utter weekly as I touch my face, and then the area were my heart would be.

It stills beats quickly.

a/n: review~! : )