A/N 1: WASSAP? I feel like I haven't updated in forever, but I'm still making it by the date I promised. (:

Pairings:

USUK
AsaFem!Kiku
AmeriFem!Can
PruFem!Can
SpaMano
USUkraine
FrUK

Arthur had a rough week. He cut off most communication from Sakura, which was causing her to become very suspicious. He couldn't find it in himself to look her in the eyes, much less kiss or touch. She continued reaching out to him, however, and his heart broke every time he couldn't find it in himself to respond. She stopped cooking dinner and packing his lunch. They didn't even sleep together anymore; she had moved to the spare bedroom. One night, Arthur heard her talking on the phone about him. She had said something along the lines of "Something is terribly wrong. I think he's depressed, so I'm giving him a bit of space. No, no, I'm almost positive he's not cheating on me. Hey, Arthur is a good man, and he wouldn't do something that terrible and demeaning to me!"

That was last night –the worst night since this whole situation had started. Sakura was in her bedroom, and the door was slightly cracked. He had gotten up from staring at the ceiling to use the restroom when he heard her say it. His breathing became shallow, and his heart clenched in despair and guilt. He held the tears back and quietly went back to the master bedroom. When he was alone, the waterworks refused to come, no matter how hard he tried to revel in his despondency.

Like every other night, he tried to figure out a way to fix this. He truly loved Sakura with all his heart, and it hurt to think of leaving her. Yet, there was that small voice that demanded to be heard. It shouted in a muffled tone, but he couldn't exactly hear all the words. The voice drifted away while he was home wallowing in his depression, and it got louder, almost able to be heard in school. His students were happy that something was wrong, for they got easier and easier work or movies to watch. He couldn't find it in himself to think up lessons, and he had run out of backup worksheets. Arthur was becoming a bad teacher in this way, and the students were starting to talk. His history classes were usually difficult; he tried to challenge the students. He was completely ruining his teaching reputation.

When Arthur was in school, he avoided Alfred at all costs. He was desperate to stay out of sight and out of his own room come lunch time. If he recalled correctly, just a couple days ago Arthur had forgotten to run to the custodian's closet to eat his lunch with Gilbert. He heard a knock on his door and ducked under his desk. Footsteps got closer and closer and stopped just outside the metal sheet shielding him from the intruder. It took every inch of his being to not jump out from his hiding place to see if it really was Alfred. What he would do then, he didn't know.

Mr. Kirkland opened his eyes from dozing off for the umpteenth time that day. It was just six minutes until the lunch bell, and his students were loud and rowdy as always. He shuffled away the load of paperwork on his desk and rested his head in his arms to muffle the light and noise. His mind wandered to fairies, unicorns, and other fantasy creatures as the world of classrooms, sex, and complications disappeared. It was the happiest place he'd been in since the day his troubles started.

Alfred had made it routine to check Arthur's classroom for the man avoiding him every day. He wanted to know if The Incident was worth it, and if maybe they could change The Incident into The Single Best Moment on Earth. The moment they finally came together as one. He hoped to God that Arthur would accept him and love him unconditionally –the same way Alfred loved him.

It was that time again, and he counted the seconds to the bell, just as the students did. They wanted to eat, and Mr. Jones wanted to find Arthur. His leg bounced and shook the room, and he bit his fingernails. The students chattered happily and for the very first time in his life, he wanted them gone. Usually, he had open arms for the children, but he couldn't wait much longer before his head felt like exploding. Finally, the ear-splitting bell rung above their heads, and Mr. Jones made it a point to be out the door before the kids could.

He knew Arthur had to be avoiding him, and he was in a race against him from leaving. Alfred ignored the "No Running" rule and sprinted, breathing heavily. He stopped just outside the history teacher's door and took a deep breath. All the eating out and fast food made him feel out of breath after a run like that, but he ignored this. His hand slipped on the doorknob from the sweat coating his entire body. He sent a hopeful prayer to anyone listening that Arthur would please be in there.

He opened the door slowly and poked his head in. The room was dark and smelled dusty, like the books littering the corners of the room. Alfred was distracted by this, however. The whole of his vision was focused on the one man that ruled over his entire heart. He quietly closed the door behind him and walked with purpose to the teacher's desk. Arthur had his head tucked in his arms, nose pointing toward the door. A small sliver of drool escaped from the corner of his mouth, and his blond locks glittered in the dull light from the window. Alfred smiled and ran his fingers through the other man's fluffy hair.

The apprehensive American finally took in the smaller details –the ones that counted most. Small pink puckered dots littered the edges of Arthur's hairline, and dark bags hung loosely from under his eyes. He released the lightest of snores, as this seemed like the best sleep he had in days, and faint wrinkles outlined his mouth. Alfred removed his hand and sat on the desk. He didn't want to wake the angel up from his peaceful rest, so he decided on waiting. He would wait forever if he had to. Alfred sighed and let his chin fall to his aching chest. His eyelids felt heavy in the dark room, and he glanced to his right one last time before dozing off into a light sleep beside his lover.

Arthur awoke abruptly. His eyes still closed, he got a feel of his surroundings by smell and touch. It smelled dusty as per usual in his classroom, but a hint of something else invaded his nostrils. It smelled of grass heated by the summer sun. He suddenly felt bubbly when he took in this smell again with a contented inhale. Something warm and pleasant enfolded his numbing hand. He stretched his fingers to shake away the pins and needles and comprehend what this nice thing over his hand was. This thing felt slightly calloused and slightly larger than his own hand.

Mr. Kirkland's eyelids flew open, and his heartbeat elevated significantly. His green orbs were suddenly glued to the sleeping twenty four-year-old that had stolen his heart. He tried swallowing around the lump in his throat and sneakily removed his sweating hand from the hold Alfred had it in. He cursed under his breath when Alfred's eyes opened and fastened to Arthur's face.

Arthur's name was whispered elatedly, as if Alfred couldn't believe they were together again. His face and ears burst into an array of pink and red when Alfred leaned down to drop a chaste kiss to his forehead. The Brit started blubbering incoherently, and the other laughed happily. He suddenly found himself wrapped in the American's arms. It took all of his willpower not to return the pressure of the intimate show of affection. Arthur lightly pushed against the oppressor, who was gabbing about how happy they would be together.

"Alfred, I can't –," he was cut off with a long kiss to the lips. It was warm and sweet, like fresh apple pie cooling on a window sill. To his dismay, his hands traveled up Alfred's chest and lingered on the hard pectorals. He squeezed his eyes closed and clenched his fists. Arthur couldn't help the reactions the other man got out of him, but he also couldn't help the love he still cradled for his wife. Sakura's smiling face presented itself to his mind and he choked on a sob. He had made a commitment to her when he married her five years ago, and he wasn't about to ruin that now. With as much strength and willpower as he could muster, Arthur shoved away the object of all his dirty desires.

"I can't be with you, Alfred," he said, wiping his wet face with his sleeve. "I won't leave Sakura. It isn't fair to her." Arthur gauged the other man's face for a reaction. Confusion shadowed his face but nothing more. Not hurt, not jealousy, just confusion.

Alfred blubbered, "But you… and I? I thought we were…"

"You thought wrong." Arthur's face hardened, and his heart shattered with every passing moment. It felt as if he was tearing himself to shreds by saying these words.

"Do you love her?"

Without hesitation Arthur replied, "Yes, of course."

"And… You love me too?"

Arthur paused, not expecting this question. He told himself that, no he most definitely did not love this vociferous, obnoxious, jejune American. Who could? He gathered the strength he needed to crush the hopeful stare he was receiving. "Absolutely not."

Alfred flinched and whispered, "Was it worth it then? Making love with me and going straight back to her?"

Arthur's eye twitched, and he took a shaky breath. "We didn't make love. We… made a huge mistake, and I could have ruined my marriage. It will never happen again. End of story." He turned away from the man, hiding the silent stream of sorrow that was hastily racing down his cheeks.

The confusion was swept from Alfred's face and replaced by agony. He clutched at his chest and squeezed his eyes tightly as his world came crashing down on him.

Loud and unyielding, the bell alerted the two heartbroken men the end of lunch. Alfred removed his glasses and wiped them on the edge of his left sleeve –a habit Arthur had noticed when he was upset.

"I can't," Alfred choked on his words. "I can't change your mind? You're not even going to let me fight for you…" he trailed off, and the first students started wandering in. Arthur bit his lip and shook his head slowly. He took a deep breath to compose himself and walked to the door to show Mr. Jones out.

"Mr. Jones, I believe you have a class now," Arthur said stiffly and nodded toward the emptying halls.

Alfred sniffed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He could take a hint after all. He strode out of the classroom with as much dignity as he could muster.

In the four days that had passed, Maddie had reverted back to her old self. Ego boosts weren't such a good thing, she had decided, so she settled on wearing her baggy t-shirts, long skirts, pants, scarves, and anything else that modestly covered her body. Whenever Francis –she refused to call him Papa like he wanted her to– offered more stylish clothes, she just threw them into the growing pile in the back of her closet. The trifling attention she got on Monday was back to normal. She was as noticeable as a dirty heads-down penny. Nobody cared for an extra piece of copper when shiny new dimes and quarters were available.

Maddie was walking to her locker from French class, which was something else altogether. She was born and raised in Canada, and she had lived in France for a couple years after her mother died. Like the wonderful guardian he is, Francis had failed to mention to the school that she already knew this language. It was too late to switch classes now, but she rather liked the idea of having a laid-back class for once.

This mentality was crushed, however. Just yesterday after a night of drinking and seducing women, the frog came home completely smashed. He blubbered something about becoming a teacher to make her life easier. She ignored this and put the man to bed like the responsible person she was. Sure enough, he was subbing for Ms. Chester, the perky, giggly teacher that thought she knew everything about the French language. There was a rumor going around that she caught a deadly disease, which is why she was out for the last two days. When Maddie walked in the classroom today, there was the man that held all of her odium.

Where he even went to college, much less how he even attained the degree it took to become a teacher, was beyond her. She couldn't imagine anyone handing that man a diploma, even if it meant his life. During the forty five minute torture session, he kept glancing at her and smirking, as if saying, "AHA! I'll always be better than you, even if I'm a worthless scumbag." She was even forced to call him Mister Bonnefoy when he called on her for a question –which was pretty damn often.

Maddie marched to her locker with steam spewing from her ears. She hated her father so much and wished the worst on him. She was fuming so much that she didn't notice an Asian boy clad in hipster clothes –large fake glasses, bow tie, skinny jeans, boots, styled hair and all– running her way. He had his eyes squinted, lips puckered, and arms flailing, giggling all the while. She had heard of this kid before, and she suddenly felt a thin sheen of sweat coat her body. Maddie looked for a place to hide and moved to pull her bag in front of her chest, but it was in vain. He yelled something in Korean, and his hand stopped its flailing to plant itself on her breast.

The moment seemed to last forever where all she could do was stare at his blushing, giggling face in horror. Her mouth couldn't shape words, and her leg wouldn't move to kick him where it hurt most. Time picked back up, and the boy ran along to fondle some other poor girl, who screamed and hit him with her purse. It was more than Maddie had done. Her face felt so hot, and her hands shook uncontrollably. Her vision became blurry, and before anybody could see, she made a mad dash to the closest vacant room.

A heavy blanket of darkness was cast over the room. It smelled faintly of cigarettes and alcohol that someone attempted covering up with cleaning products. Maddie bumped into many protruding objects and felt a strong sense of claustrophobia take over. She cowered in the corner with her face in her hands. Tears leaked in between her fingers. She felt disgusting, embarrassed, and molested.

Her head jerked up when a thin strip of light invaded her cover. The iridescence spread, and the door screeched as it was opened fully, revealing Mr. Beilschmidt. The light from the outside world created a halo effect on the man, yet he had a devilish aura with his blood red eyes and mischievous smirk. The ghost of laughter lingered on his face until he took notice to her. His eyes widened, and he remembered her from Monday and how his attempt to comfort her had been futile. She looked so desolate and unhappy –girls weren't supposed to look like that, in Gilbert's opinion. Blood rushed through the elder's veins, and he was struck with the strongest pull to put a smile on her face. But first things first.

"What are you doing in here?" he asked gruffly. He didn't mean it to come out unkind at all, but her eyes widened in fear.

She stood up quickly and grabbed her previously abandoned bags. "I-I'm terribly sorry. I didn't realize. I'll just go now," she stammered out. Maddie ducked her head and tried to run around him.

"Woah, woah, woah!" Mr. Beilschmidt said as he stepped in her way with his hands up to show that he was not trying to get her into trouble. "It's okay, all right? Relax, have a seat," he offered her the ripped computer chair. She looked at it in skeptics but sat down anyway. Gilbert couldn't take his eyes off her. Leftover tears clung to the eyelashes of the girl, and her blonde locks framed her face perfectly when she smoothed out her pigtails. Gil perched himself on the edge of his hand-me-down teacher's desk and cocked his head, a smile playing at the edges of his lips. "So what's buggin' ya?"

Mr. Jones held the look of a bum off the street. He had suddenly turned haggard-like on the walk from Arthur's classroom to his own. His shoulders were slumped, and the corners of his mouth succumbed to gravity. His sadness ate at the edges of his mind, and he couldn't even concentrate on handing out lab papers to his students. Home loomed just two periods and a drive away, but time meant nothing to him anymore. He felt like dead weight.

He shoved the papers under a stunned girl's nose, telling her to pass them out. Alfred slumped into his seat and rubbed at the light coat of stubble on his chin. Anger, betrayal, sadness, disappointment, and a thousand other emotions battled for control. He squeezed his eyes tightly and let out the mix between a sigh and groan. The high pitched voices of the nonstop talking students reverberated in his skull, and he gritted his teeth.

"Shut up," he said. It wasn't loud, nor was it soft. The class continued rambling on, and a girl in the front complained about a boy to her indifferent friend. The girl chittered on, annoying like a bird outside your window on an early Sunday morning. "Shut up," he said again. Few people took notice, but the ones that did were paralyzed with trepidation. "SHADDAP!" Mr. Jones roared, casting the classroom into perturbed taciturnity. "This is a classroom, not a social networking site. I don't want to hear about your boyfriend obviously cheating on you, especially if you're too idiotic to notice that small fact," he cast a hateful glance to the bird girl. "We are to be doing the lab, not wasting time gossiping."

He clenched his fists and sat back down in his seat. He hadn't even realized he stood up to admonish the class. Not one student made a sound after the outburst, just worked on their worksheets individually despite being allowed to work in groups. Mr. Jones's angry sighs were the only things breaking the tangible silence. Although, to Alfred it was very loud and stuffy as his mind was buzzing with inference. He damned the choice Arthur made and hated the consequences of a broken heart.

A/N 2: So yeah… I feel like this chapter didn't have a lot of emotion at all, even though my lovely BETA/sister, XSDansa, told me otherwise. I had a lot of trouble actually writing this, which is why it's a bit shorter than normal. And I got a JOB! So I'm gonna have less time to write… Quality over quantity is what I always say though.
As always, I love you guys so so much, and I'd appreciate some feedback.