Summary: Partner fic with Breathless. Arthur's life was a mess. His father loathed him, his classmates taunted him, his bullies were killing him and his friends were just imaginary. He has nothing to live for. And he wanted it to end. Climbing to the roof, he contemplates. Will he or will he not? He knew.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or its characters

Warning(s): Unbetaed, mild swearing, character death, angst, unorthodox events, time travelling and suicide

Chapter X: September 20

Date: September 20, 20XX

Location: Hetalia World Academy, Grounds

Time: Between 7 to 7:30 am

"Arthur Avalon is dead"

Blunt, hurting and grieving words resounded throughout the empty hallways as it was slowly delivered. Thunder roared within the gray canvas of clouds, depicting the melancholic and mourning state of the day (which was very unfortunate as it added to how they should feel).

The students had gathered on the ground, monochromatic umbrellas present on their hands, and were silent as opposed to their usual flamboyant behavior. Some casted their eyes down upon hearing the statement, obviously contemplating about something in life, while others secretly wished that the headmaster would end this grieving torture already and have them sent back to their rooms.

Yet Romulus stood on the central podium, hands tightly gripped on its corners, as he gauges their reactions. His eyes were shadowed by his hair and his orbs were as dark as the weather that day, and waited for about a minute for them to digest what he just said.

"I know that some of you heard about this on the news earlier and I would like to confirm to you that it was indeed true," Romulus said to them. "We lost one of our dear students yesterday."

Romulus then paused again, shaking a bit as if he has a bad cold, and continued. "There were a few people (namely the football team) who saw him jumping down to his death—possibly plummeted to the ground— that rushed towards him to help the poor child. Too bad, it was already late. He was gone."

Alfred winced at the sudden mention and bit his lip. He casted his vision down onto his shifting feet as he recalled that horrendous experience the day prior. The fall of the blond was surreal, like a dream, a fantasy and a fiction. It happened only in fleeting moments, before someone could grasp the sudden motion and then, bam! It had happened.

His father's cousin's son was lying on his own pool of blood, like a puppet out of its strings, on the cold empty cement, lonely and alone.

Alfred considered himself as a hero, often exclaiming that he would save everybody. But after the events that transcended yesterday, he berates himself for being such a childish and selfish (delirious) person.

He wasn't a hero—he was a murderer.

He murdered Arthur by being selfish and immature twat. He didn't heed to what the Briton was saying, but kept on demanding and demanding on him. Alfred wanted Arthur to listen to him that he didn't allow Arthur to speak. To ask him for help. And in the end, it was only this time the American noticed his errors. How stupendous of him.

"Ironically," Romulus' word snapped Alfred from his reverie and the Alfred shifted his feet again. "It was only when he died did help arrived and not when he was still alive and asking. I don't understand why a person would do that—helping if it was already too late—when he had the time of the world to help Arthur fix himself before he broke himself. I don't know if this man was just selfish, heartless or was afraid because Arthur was malice.

"If he was, was he afraid of being a stepping stone on the bottom of the social ladder? Well, this is what I want to tell you; screw that worthless ladder! It wasn't any significant compared to a person's life. It wouldn't kill you if you didn't climb up, but your ignorance could kill a person." Romulus' slammed the podium in anger, causing the students to flinch. It wasn't every day you would see an angry headmaster and it wasn't good either.

Francis reflected on the words Romulus just released. The social ladder, ignorance, and cowardliness; they define who Francis was. The headmaster caught spot on his character and took it as a spear to stab him in the heart.

The reality between Francis and Arthur was exactly like that. Francis was Arthur's enemy and Arthur was his. That was how their relationship works. The friend and enemy status between them often conflicts Francis to help the poor lad from the grasps of his bullies and the likes of them.

Yes, Francis knew who Arthur's bullies were, but he didn't have the spine to spell it out. He just watched him from afar, pitying him as the Briton was being beaten up from head to toe, leaving him out cold. He noticed how black and violet his bruises are, but never spoke about it for he thinks Arthur would abhor him for doing so.

After all, Arthur was a prideful man. He didn't want others to help him because he wanted to show to everybody he was strong.

And he did. Arthur was able to fool Francis into believing that kind of lie.

Yet, in the process, he was breaking himself. Arthur was deceiving himself that he could do this. That he could forever lie to himself. Francis internally punched himself for his idiocy and stepped on his foot.

If only he helped Arthur, he would hear his (irritating) voice till now.

If only he helped Arthur, the Briton would still be with him.

If only he helped Arthur, the hot-headed man would still be alive.

If only...but he did not.

"Mon Dieu, what have I done?" Francis whispered to himself as he buried his face with his hand. Gilbert held the umbrella for his crying friend and watched him quietly—a trait that doesn't fit the red eyed man.

"Better yet, why won't I tell you a bit about Arthur" Romulus eased a little but his hands were still tightly gripped on corner and was turning pale. He looked at his students again and found a few regretting their actions. "When Arthur was still four, his parents divorced and went to live with his dad, who was a newspaper editor.

"When he was five, he was left alone in the house and was taught how to fend himself. It was also the time his rabbit had died. When he was seven, his father came back home, drunk, and received his first beating. When he turned eight, it became his father's daily routine and turned him into a punching bag. Ten years old, when he was diagnosed to be delirious and eleven when he was starved almost to death.

"He was thirteen when he enrolled here and saw at least a ray of light. He was also thirteen when bullying became worse and was subjected to be discriminated by others. Fourteen, when he attempted to suicide for the fifth time and right now, fifteen, when he succeeded in it."

"Now that you knew how Arthur lived a harsh and cruel life beyond his years," Romulus took a sharp breath intake. "I hope you realized the hardship he had gone through and how he struggled to overcome it. Thus, I wanted you to realize the mistakes you did in the past in order not to repeat it in the future.

"But of course, even if I told you this, some still wouldn't understand the value of life and find another victim to terrorize. Well then go ahead. You can do whatever you want—kill, curse and bully others—but remember, it could never erase what you did in the past. It will haunt you, bother you, until the end of time and have it engraved on your memories forever"

Romulus finished his speech and covered his eyes with handkerchief as he could feel tears rolling down. He haven't felt this way since his first grandson disappeared or when his daughter did and it felt painful. And he felt...weak. He turned back to his students and gave them a last, bitter smile.

"That's all; class dismissed!" And with that, he disappeared from the stage.

43

Well that was depressing. The tone of the story was more on angst than hurt/ comfort and it probably made some of you sad (yes it was a bad start). Though, it won't continue to do so; this was just one of the saddest outcome the story could get if you made the wrong choice and don't worry I'll have them save Arthur soon.