Disclaimer: We don't own Hetalia, unfortunately. It belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. Also, expect yaoi in later chapters. Don't like it, don't read it.

Arthur's eyes went wide, trying to push Alfred away but in vain.

"L-Leave me alone! Now!" Arthur shouted into his face, "You don't know me! You don't know what or who I like! You haven't even talked to me, really! So, don't fucking talk to me before you can behave yourself!" he then kicked his knee up between his legs.

Alfred's head slumped down to Arthur's shoulder with a quiet whimper, but he didn't let go. A solitary tear fell onto Arthur's shirt. It took him several minutes to regain the ability to speak despite the lingering, gut wrenching agony.

"T-then give me a chance," he whispered through clenched teeth.

Arthur stared right into his soul, "We had known each other for less than 5 minutes and you kissed me! I think… twenty, max thirty have passed since we first meet each other. Now, you are talking about love. I don't even know who you are! I will give you a chance when you stop being like that and act like a friend, not a creepy, pedo, rapist, stalker…"

Alfred's legs gave out, dragging both of them to the floor. He ignored the sharp pain stabbing at his gut and looked up into Arthur's beautiful eyes. Sure, the older boy looked angry, but he was also intensely flustered. Alfred tried not to laugh as he ranted.

"Ooh, see that, there," he grinned weakly, "Who needs affection when I have blind hatred? I never said anything about love… I just find you attractive."

Arthur blinked twice before he blushed darkly, "B-But. I-I… Uh..."

He ran out of words. But he did kiss him, right? And another chance? But... What? His heart started to hammer in his chest as his face heated up.

"W-Whatever, you git," he said with a low embarrassed voice as he walked back to his bed side.

Alfred stayed on the floor, curling into a ball. He was mostly just dazed from being kicked. Still, seeing Arthur blush like that was incredible. They'd been close enough that Alfred had heard his roommate's pulse quicken. He wanted to join Arthur, to kiss those soft lips once again. Alas, he couldn't bring himself to move.

"Why'd you have to hit so hard?" he mumbled into the floor.

"No, no, no! The question is… why are you such an idiot?" he replied.

Arthur looked at him right in the eyes; right in the blue... cerulean… crystal eyes. God, how he already had started to love them.

"You are seriously twisted," but the punk said those word with a little smile.

"It's not my fault you're sexy," the American grinned to the floor.

Alfred rolled on his back so he could look up at what he thought would be irritated green eyes. He was surprised at the smile and even more so at how Arthur was looking at him. It hadn't entirely been his intention to make his roommate fall for him. The thought softened the grin on his face into a pleading look.

"Can you help me up? I don't think I can manage it on my own."

Arthur frowned. Why was he so helpless? Did he really want to be close to Arthur anytime possible? Seriously…

A middle finger popped up towards Alfred as Arthur chuckled, "Get your fat ass up by yourself."

Arthur then got down on the floor, lifted his mattress slightly and grabbed a little box; cigarettes. He then walked to the window, opened it and lit one. Of course he wasn't allowed to smoke, but so what? He never asked to get on this school anyway.

"I can't figure you out, Frodo" he said as he took a draw.

"Please?"

Alfred stuck his lower lips out a little and tried to look depressed. In truth, he was trying to refrain from laughing. He rolled over and tried to shove himself to his knees, and then fell flat. Searing agony ripped through his lower half. He unconsciously curled back into the fetal position while trying to recall how to breathe.

Arthur took another draw, walked to Alfred, knelt down in front of him and blew the smoke out in his head. "If I go on a date with you, will you then stop being so pathetic and annoying?" he asked, taking another draw and blew it into his head.

Alfred coughed harshly in response to the smoke and pure shock. Had he been imagining things or had Arthur just asked him out? He gritted his teeth and pushed himself up against the wall. Once the pain subsided again, he grinned foolishly.

"And why would you want to go out with a 'creepy, pedo, rapist stalker' like me?" Alfred winked at Arthur.

"I don't want the 'creepy, pedo-' Argh! I just want you to stop hitting on me. All right? I am not used to it. Not used to be called sexy and all that. AND you stole my first kiss, so we if go out... You will stop, okay?"

Arthur walked back to the window as he waited for an answer.

While Arthur had his back turned, Alfred used the wall to prop himself up, then dropped onto his roommate's bed. He was careful to keep his feet off the covers, however, and tried to listen to Arthur. The sweet scent of the sheets fogged his mind as he buried his face in them. The resulting stupor dimmed the pain. He wondered if Arthur meant anything he'd just said, apart from 'not being used to it'. That much was crystal clear.

Arthur sighed when he never got the answer and turned around.

His eye twitched,"Get the fuck away from my bed! You are unbelievably annoying!"

The punk tried to pushed Alfred off the bed, but he wouldn't want to touch his ass and only touching his back wouldn't move the rest of the body. Though, while pushing, Arthur's hand slipped and he fell over Alfred, lying across his lower body.

"Stop it, dude," Alfred complained.

The man had kicked him and kneed him in the balls. The least he could do was let Alfred stay still for a few minutes. Then, Arthur had to go and fall on him. It would have just hurt if Alfred hadn't realized what had just landed on him. He blushed deep scarlet and stuttered for a moment, then spoke without a thought to the consequences.

"What do you know… even angels fall."

Arthur blinked twice, needing a second to get the whole situation about lying on Alfred and what... Alfred said. It only took a second before Arthur's face turned red as a tomato and his cheek's was burning.

He quickly pulled away, "I-I am certainly not an angel!"

Arthur knew his face was red and therefore, he walked to the bathroom and closed the door. Then just sat down in there, frowning.

Why would he be like that? Calling him those names and being so charming... wait, what? Arthur shook his head as he thought that.

Alfred smiled, stilling blushing, and sat up, "Arthur, are you ok?"

He was worried that Arthur might have hurt himself, and then wondered if he had royally ruined his chances by saying what he did. Still, he was more concerned for his roommate's welfare at the moment. He walked over to the bathroom and knocked. Alfred knew he'd probably be kneed again if he tried to open the door now.

Arthur frowned slightly and let out a sigh.

"I am fine. Just leave me alone, Alfred. I mean it, seriously…" he mumbled before he opened the door and walked straight back to his bed, sat down. His face was still burning red, "I just want an answer now, and if I don't get one, you won't get another chance."

Alfred followed him with a mock sigh, "You really want an answer? Alright... just remember, you asked for it."

He took off his glasses and tossed them onto his bed, then turned to face Arthur. He sank down to eye level just like he had earlier, but this time, he very lightly pushed Arthur down on the bed. Crawling on top of Arthur, he paused to kiss his counterparts throat. A sultry look blazed in his blue eyes when they finally met Arthur's.

"Yes, I want to go out with you," he smiled seductively, "but I can't make any guarantees about leaving you alone."

Arthur frowned, clenched his hand but didn't hit him. He couldn't, his hand would react, and it wouldn't... hit Alfred. But his face heated up once again, he bit his lip hard as he slowly pulled himself away. The punk fell off of the bed and down from the floor, though his legs were still on the bed.

"What the hell is wrong with you?! If you do that again, I will make sure t-to dig your eyes out with a bloody stick!"

Alfred refrained from yelping as the two of them fell towards the floor. He braced his arms out so he wouldn't land on Arthur. The result was a series of muted cracks issuing from his wrists and unintentionally straddling the green eyed angel. He slumped forward until he was lying on his roommate's chest. There was nothing he could do to stop the quiet whimper that escaped him or the slight tremors that shook his shoulders.

He'd done something similar several years ago while playing with Matthew. Alfred was almost certain he'd sprained his wrists again… or worse, what if he'd fractured them this time? Regardless, most of his body was aching at this point. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take today.

Arthur looked at the American who wasn't moving or answering.

"Alfred..?" He tried again before he lowered his brows.

Was he in pain? Or... what? He really had no clue, he couldn't move or anything. He bit his lip, looked away for a bit.

Alfred buried his face in Arthur's chest and tried to reign in the tremors. He prayed that the punk wouldn't shove him away. His wrists were already swelling somewhat, which worried him. With some effort, he pinned his arms to his chest.

"A-are you trying to kill me?" Alfred asked, sounding winded.

Arthur blinked twice, his eyes then widened, "W-What? Of course not! W-What's wrong?"

Arthur's voice started to shake a bit. He knew Alfred was hurt, somewhere. Arthur gently and slowly pulled away from the bed, but also pulling Alfred with him. His arms were around Alfred when he did so. When Arthur finally managed to sit up, Alfred was lying on his lap and Arthur ran his hands through Alfred's hair.

"Where does it hurt?"

Alfred winced as he was pulled upright. Being moved was entirely unwanted until Arthur messed with his hair. The action was indescribably soothing. Tension fell away in waves, leaving him completely calm. If he didn't know that he needed to ice his wrists, Alfred would have been more than content to stay in Arthur's arms.

"My wrists... I think I sprained them," he grimaced, then looked up and said the first thing that came to mind, "You have beautiful eyes."

Arthur blinked a bit, looked at Alfred's wrists. They were turning several shades of blue and purple. Arthur blinked twice again.

"You are lucky that my-" he stopped when he heard what Alfred said about his... beautiful eyes?

The punk couldn't help but smile a bit. No. Wait.. he thought. He couldn't just start to soften for Alfred. Therefore, he quickly pulled the smile off and finished his sentence.

"You are lucky that my Father was a doctor."

"I saw that," Alfred smiled back, "Do you think he'd mind… you know."

He glanced at his hands, which were starting to look horrid. It's been a short fall, but that didn't matter to the blossoming bruises. He shuddered slightly and tried to recall if Francis had packed his braces or not. Alfred was almost certain he had. Francis had thrown a fit the other night because he'd wanted to leave them. He could still hear that snobbish voice, 'You never know when you might need them!' Alfred lamented that he actually needed them now.

Arthur's eyes widened slightly, "O-Oh you thought that-"

Arthur lowered his brows and looked down.

"My father taught me a lot.. But uhm.. He died a couple of months ago.." Arthur mumbled lowly.

He gently pulled away, making sure it wouldn't hurt Alfred, and walked to the other side of his bed. He knelt down, pulled out a little first aid kit and opened the box.

"So.. I guess it would be hard for him to help you.."

All humor dissipated from Alfred's face, "I-I'm sorry..."

While Arthur got his kit out, Alfred made his way over and got his glasses. Putting them on was a hassle due to the shooting pain up his arms, but he managed. He rummaged carefully through his stuff until he found the Ace braces at the top of the second box he opened with a note. Francis still didn't understand that Alfred couldn't ready his writing, it seemed. He grabbed them and walked back over to Arthur.

"It's fine. I… Well," he didn't know what to say.

The punk placed his hands on Alfred's shoulders and pushed him down, forcing him to sit down on the bed.

"You shouldn't use your hands, geez," he sighed and grabbed one of the bandages.

"I know," Alfred flinched as he was shoved down on the bed, "but I wanted to be able to see you clearly."

Arthur started wrapping Alfred's wrists with it tightly. Since this just happened, bandage and Ace braces would be good. He smiled and grabbed them gently out of Alfred's hands and gently put them on Alfred, then firmly tightened them.

"Alright, it might get really hot, because of the pain but also because there are so many layers. We should find some ice and don't use them. If you need to do or get something, I will do it," he smiled.

He gritted his teeth when Arthur wrapped his hands. It wasn't nearly as bad as last time. Still, that had been Francis' handiwork. The snob had been less than kind about trying to "help" him. At least Arthur seemed to care about what he was doing. In fact, he noticed that his roommate's attitude had done something of a one-eighty. He hadn't hit his head, had he? Alfred let out a shaky sigh when the braces were in place. He returned the smile, but it felt frail on his face. The world tilted sickeningly in a sudden rush of vertigo and he fell forward.

Arthur hadn't realized that he had changed attitude towards Alfred. The only reason was that he trusted him. Arthur felt that he maybe could be more like himself with Alfred and he felt safe, comfortable even. Maybe he had a friend. Arthur smiled warmly and chuckled at the thought.

"You know, may-" he stopped when he saw the blonde starting to fall forward.

The punker quickly placed his hands on Alfred's shoulders to prevent him from falling. One of his hands ran up to Alfred's forehead. No… he wasn't warm, but it was clear that Alfred was in pain. He tilted the American down on his bed and pulled the covers cover him. He then got some ice bags, placing them under his wrists.

Alfred shivered when Arthur touched his forehead; he wasn't running a temperature, but he was slightly clammy. His vision had cleared somewhat his head hit the pillow, enough so that he saw Arthur walk off. Something close to panic shot through him. It left him wondering about all the 'what ifs' his semi-delusional mind was producing. Such questions led to a realization that Arthur had made, in a very short amount of time, an irreversible impression. The profound relief he felt when Arthur returned cemented the thought. As cheesy as it he thought it sounded, Alfred had fallen in love.

Arthur had no idea what to do. Suddenly it all turned awkward and Arthur didn't know if he should stay or leave; talk or not. So he decided to grab his guitar and start to play, following by a calm singing and a little smile on his lips.

Alfred tilted his head so he could watch Arthur play. The melody had the most lulling quality to it. It was hard to believe how much could change in half an hour. The same punk who had been kicking him away was smiling at him now. Alfred drowsily smiled and daydreamed about asking Arthur to join him. He didn't dare voice these thoughts for fear of ruining the moment. Instead, he waited until the end of the song.

"You should sing more often," he said sleepily.

Arthur sighed and stopped playing completely.

"No, I sing horribly, but I thought... it would help you relax," Arthur mumbled and walked to the corner with the guitar again, "Can I ask you... do you… masturbate?"

The punk knew it was a weird question. Well, almost everyone did, but he was curious.

"I mean, how often?"

The reason was that, Francis did it often when they shared room and sometimes he didn't wash his hands. Arthur often he woke up to it… in the end, it was just a horrible experience.

Alfred meant to comment further on his roommate's amazing ability to sing, but was cut off by a query. The resulting blush started around the base of his neck and reached his hairline. That was the last thing that he'd expected to come out of Arthur's mouth. He stuttered for a moment, entirely unable to manage a complete sentence. It took a few minutes for him to regain anything resembling composure.

"Dude! …why?"

"Well.. " Arthur shrugged, "Let's just say that.. I had some problems with Francis, All right? And don't be embarrassed, i mean.. Everyone masturbate. Even me," he smiled.

'Though,' he thought, 'What if Alfred started thinking about Arthur masturbating? If Arthur was as hot and had as beautiful eyes as Alfred said, he might... think of that.'

"Well... often?"

Composure quickly flew out the window, "You're the "jackass" roommate Francis wouldn't shut up about?"

The quotations were obvious, despite Alfred being so flustered. The snob had ranted about his roommate all summer and made a point of telling everyone that he'd deliberately gone out of his way to avoid the Brit again. The one thing he never said was a name. Alfred was beginning to consider the possibility that he was hallucinating. The only thing that kept his from believing it was the look in Arthur's eyes.

"I… um… not that often," he admitted eventually.

"Hah! He talked about me? I see… I haven't seen him in a while, though," Arthur shrugged and blinked by Alfred's words, "Really? That's good. Francis did it all the time. I often walked in on him. And you… It can happen once, maybe twice. When it happens seven or more times, I start to get annoyed, you know? God, that guy was only on this school for two reasons; to fuck and to get in my pants. Well, that was what he tried last year. Maybe he has changed?" he shrugged.

Alfred stared at him, wide-eyed and uncertain of what to say next. Francis hadn't changed at all, from what he could tell. About halfway through Arthur's rant, Alfred got up and ran for the bathroom. The last few lines did nothing for the blood dripping into their sink. Francis had tried to do what…? Alfred tried without success to shove the thought away.

Arthur blinked and ran after him.

"A-Alfred what's wrong?" he asked, frowning slightly as he looked at him.

What... happened? Why did he suddenly run? And the blood?

"Alfred, what happened? Are you feeling bad or…?" Arthur stroke Alfred's hair back so it wouldn't get bloody.

Alfred tried to pinch the bridge of his nose, but neither of his hands were willing to cooperate. Thankfully, the blood flow wasn't severe. However, it was beyond embarrassing that Arthur had managed to make this happen. He wanted to faceplant into the floor and try to forget the mental images that the Brit had given him.

"I-it's nothing," he mumbled.

Arthur blinked twice and sighed. "If it was nothing, it wouldn't bleed like that," he said and ruffled his hair before walking back to his bed. On the way he shouted back to Alfred, "Take care of your wrists!" He didn't want it to get worse.

Alfred whimpered out of frustration. 'So much for 'If you need to do or get something... I will do it',' he mentally grumbled. It took several more failed attempts to put pressure on his nose before he gave up and used toilet paper. By then, his wrists felt like someone had shoved needles in them. He fell to the floor and kept his head forward slightly.

Arthur wondered why Alfred didn't get out and Arthur went back to him.

"Alfred," he whispered and grabbed the toilet paper out of his hand.

The punker pulled him up and dragged him back to bed, taking the toilet paper with him and put him down on the bed. Arthur then started cleaning Alfred's face from blood.

"Alfred... What's going through your mind?" It was already dark outside; the time had really passed quickly.

Alfred let the punk lead him back to the bed without any resistance. He kicked off his shoes once Arthur made him sit down. He remained quiet until the last of the blood was wiped away. Even then, he had no idea how to tell Arthur that he'd been thinking about him without his punk attire. He kept his eyes downcast and stared at his knees. The blush that had been receding returned mainly to his cheeks.

"I-I… umm…" Alfred stumbled over the word, unable to say anything.

"It's fine, Al. You can tell me," Arthur said with a kind smile.

He walked to the trash bin with the blood toilet paper before he sat down beside Alfred with a little smile as he looked at him. It kind of scared the Brit that all this happened, he wasn't used to it, and he had never had nosebleed himself.

Alfred shook his head, making hair cover most of his face. He mostly blamed his half-delirious revelations for his inability to speak properly. There was so much he wanted to say, but couldn't… he was terrified what Arthur think. After all, they'd only known each other for less than a day. That hadn't stopped him from kissing Arthur… it was small in comparison to what the punk was asking him about.

He scooted back on the bed, pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. Alfred was careful not to apply pressure to his wrists. He glanced over at Arthur through his hair, trying to read his roommate's mood.

Arthur face was terrified. He had never dealt with this and he did bleed a lot. He had no idea why and Alfred didn't tell him. He lowered his brows slightly, got up and walked to the toilet to clean the mess up. Also, to think. He came back after only four minutes, but his face expression was the same.

"You stole my first kiss, so I believe you owe telling me this. Spit it out," he said with anger and nervousness in his voice. He was kind of acting like the old Arthur again, still talking about that kiss.

Alfred flinched at Arthur's harsh tone as thought the punk had punched him in the face. He buried his face in his knees to avoid letting Arthur see the tear streak down his face. One of his hands darted up to wipe it away. He had no idea what to say, especially now that Arthur seemed so angry.

"I'm s-sorry," he sniffled, and then the rest came out in a hurry, "I-I was just thinking about...you."

He was tired and today had been a bit too much, even for the typically chipper American.

"What about me..?" he asked low-toned, biting his lip. Why would he think about me? And why did it affect him so much..? "Was it because I said Francis tried to fuck me?" he asked, tilting his head slightly before he sat down again beside Alfred.

Alfred sat there for a moment trying to control his emotions, "Not entirely…"

He hoped that Arthur would back off from the subject. It seemed unlikely though. The punk didn't like to let anything go, from what he could tell. He yawned despite himself, and then glanced at the clock through his hair. He felt fortunate that tomorrow was Saturday; it was past eleven o'clock.

"Please tell me, Alfred. I want to know," Arthur sighed softly, "It can't be that bad, so please. I really hate when people won't tell me... And this really made me worried."

Reality slapped Alfred in the face for a moment. He realized a source of his anxiety as his stomach knotted; he was horribly afraid that Arthur would hit him again if he said anything. Still, he wanted nothing more than for the punk to hold him or even just to play his guitar again. It haunted him that he couldn't find the words to say to make Arthur understand. Being cornered verbally hurt him worse than all that had happened, even being kneed down south.

"D-don't get mad?" he voice trembled.

"Alfred, why would I get mad? Just tell me," he said with a little smiled, wrapped his arms around Alfred's chest and rested his chin against Alfred's shoulder.

Alfred leaned back into Arthur's arms; he hadn't noticed just how tense he'd been until then. He took his glasses off and set them on the bed while he let his legs fall away from his chest. A calm smile graced his face as he nuzzled against the punk's cheek. He wasn't entirely sure how Arthur managed to do this to him, but it was a welcomed change to the day's violence.

"I-I love you, Arthur," he said sincerely, then blushed, "…and I was wondering what this angel looked like without his awe inspiring attire."

Arthur blinked twice, hugging him slightly closer.

"Alfred… You don't know me. Well, maybe Francis told something about me, but… you don't know me," he mumbled, though Arthur's heart were racing for Alfred.

"That doesn't change how I feel," he mumbled, trying to swallow the forming lump in his throat.

Alfred almost wished he hadn't said anything. He didn't want this to happen… being turned away now while wearing his heart on his sleeve. In truth, Francis hadn't really said much other than the 'fact' that his former roommate had been British and a jerk. He wanted to get to know Arthur; so much so that his heart ached.

Arthur smiled softly. God damn, he already loved Alfred as well, right? Yeah. He kissed Alfred's cheek and moved away.

"I think I might love you as well, but I don't want to be together before we know each other," he said with a little smile.

Alfred felt his heart sink. "Might"? Without thinking, he moved to the edge of the bed, slid his shoes on and ran out the door. He didn't pay any attention to where he was going; being still simply wasn't an option anymore. He ran until his legs wouldn't support him anymore and collapsed against a wall. Alfred buried his face in his knees and tried to remember how to breathe.

Arthur blinked, and then frowned.

"So you don't want me to love you? Fine then," Arthur mumbled as he tugged his hair.

It was late. Arthur walked to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Get his clothes off, brush his teeth and all that stuff. The punk put the ice packs back in the freezer and left Alfred's glasses on his bedside table. Then, he went to bed.

Afterward:
As I said... haywire. I'm still not enitrely sure how it got out of hand, but it's all good. No ones died yet.