Disclaimer: The day I own Hetalia, will be the day Belarus finally convinces Russia to marry her, marry her, MARRY HER! Let's see how that goes...

A/N: This chapter is set in Alfred's perspective, and flashes back to the events that led him to New York. I don't really have more to say, other than that this one has a bit of kissing and stuff, but nothing too sexual.

And on a side note, I apologize for the long wait between updates guys... Between looking for a job, trying to stay caught up with t.v. shows like the legend of korra and sword art online, working on other fics in my spare time, AND coming down with a terrible case of strep throat... ugh, I just hope you all can forgive me for my negligence. Any ways, onwards to the story!

Chapter Five: Alfred F. Jones realizes why he digs the British Invasion

"So, mom and dad couldn't make it then?"

"Of course not. Even if they could, do you honestly think they'd come to see you?"

"No... you're right. They'll never come see me, even if it's for my own funeral."

~O.o.o.O~

4th July, 1964

My story isn't a very happy one, but I suppose it must be reflected upon once in a while; because how can you learn from the past, if you never look at it? Like any other story begins, I was born in a small Hospital, in a small town in Maine. July 4th 1946, I Alfred F. Jones entered into this fucked up world.

I'd love to say that I was born into the perfect family, and we lived that dream life that every one envied, but in reality, my childhood sucked. My parents were constantly fighting, because my dad- my real dad- was always drunk... some times he'd hit my mom until she passed out crying in a heap. I was four years old.

One day, my mother got up from the bathroom floor, blood slowly trickling from a split lip. She grabbed my hand, packed our stuff up, and we left and never looked back. That was the first, and only time I could say that I was proud to call her my Mother.

We didn't move too far away from our first home, and within three months, my mother was re-married to some Canadian guy who had transferred there on business. Within another month, my mom was pregnant with another child, and as nature dictated I had a little brother nine months later- his name is Matthew Williams.

I hated him. I loathed how my mother cooed over him, and how "Daddy," doted on him. And I wasn't just a melodramatic child when I say that I was ignored; no, once little Mattie was born, it was like I never existed to them. I understand now, that they were just doing their best to make Matthew's childhood perfect, but they never realized it was at the cost of my own happiness. After all, how can you fix the past of a child who has only known broken, jagged edges?

Years went by, and I'm happy to say that I grew to absolutely adore my younger brother. He was practically my spitting image, the both of us having taken after Mother in the looks department. Unlike me though, Matthew was painfully quiet and shy; but he looked up to me, and followed me around like a little puppy. I honestly can't say, that I didn't enjoy all of the devoted attention he lavished upon me.

From then on life was pretty damn perfect, that was until I realized some thing "wrong," about myself. Once I hit puberty, my life became a living hell because... well, I liked men. Not pretty girls, but big, strong, strapping men. I was gay, in a nutshell. Now you could ask, what was wrong with that picture? My parents were devout Christians, and abhorred Homosexuals. Now maybe you could see my dilemma there.

My Junior year I accidentally came out to Mattie, but he immediately accepted me, and guarded my secret with his life practically. I did date a few girls to keep my parents from growing suspicious, and probing me with a million and one questions. And when they did ask me why I didn't have a Girlfriend after long periods between, I would simply tell them that I wanted to focus on school.

I did everything I could to make my parents proud of me, to make up for the sin they did not know I was committing. And even though I was gay, and yearned for the affection of another man, I made a vow to myself; I would never be with another man, until I had the courage to tell my parents the awful truth. As much as I wanted to be loved, I also didn't want to live a lie, and have it tear me up inside by secretly dating.

My grades were perfect, I was vice president of the student council and the captain of the Baseball team. The Golden Boy was the outer image I displayed, and every one from classmates to teachers loved me. If only they knew my secret, would they all still feel the same way? I wanted to know- if my parents found out that I was gay, would they still love me? If they knew, would Alfred F. Jones cease to exist in their eyes..? The day I turned eighteen, I decided to find out.

~O.o.o.O~

4th July, 1964

"Get the fuck outta this house, faggot!" My stepfather's hazel eyes blazed with rage, as he clenched his shaking fists at his sides. Mother was in hysterics, tears just streaming down her lovely face as she wailed something horrible. Poor Mattie just stood in the kitchen, his lavender eyes looking between the three of us fearfully from behind his silver specs.

"B-but dad... I thought you said you'd always love me?" I wanted to cringe at how small, and childish I sounded. A look between regret and disgust twisted my stepfather's handsome features, his lips settled into a thin line.

"No son of mine would ever choose to live in such abomination! Your mother and I have spent our lives leading you two down the righteous path of God, but it seems the Devil has sunk his teeth into your sinful flesh." There was a fervent fire that seemed to light up my stepfather's eyes, as his words cut into my skin deeper and deeper. "From this moment on, you are dead to this family." My Mother started to sob even louder, but refused to stand up for me; she couldn't even look me in the face...

"But Father, Alfred is still Alfred. Nothing has chang-"

"SHUT UP MATTHEW!" Father exploded, causing Mattie to tear up, and fall silent. He then turned back to me and said, "You are to gather your things, and leave. I want you out of this house by nightfall." He then turned his back on me, and lead my mother out of the room without a backwards glance from either of them.

Those were the last words he ever spoke to me.

I made my way up the stairs and into my bedroom, where the tears that I fought so hard to contain, just came spilling forth once I shut my door. My vision blurred, and my chest ached as I tried to control my sobs, because I didn't want them to hear me cry. After a few minutes I recovered, and set about searching for my two travel sized suitcases. When I found them in my closet, I slammed them onto my bed, my chest heaving now in anger as I tried not to scream.

I shoved clothes in the suitcases haphazardly, along with my comb and a few other necessities. Whatever room I had left was packed with the things I treasured most. A photo album, an autographed baseball mitt that dad had given me on my twelfth birthday, and as many comic books and novels as I could shove in the remaining space. They may have wanted to forget me, but I wanted to hold onto as many fond memories of my life here as possible. See, I was ridiculously optimistic then, and a part of me believed that one day, they'd forgive me and welcome me home with open arms.

Clicking the suitcase closed, I cast my gaze around the room I had grown up in for almost all my life. To think, I might not ever see it again... a soft knock on my door pulled me from my melancholy. "Al, it's me Mattie. Can I come in?" His voice sounded hoarse and scratchy, probably from crying just like me.

"Come in Mattie." The door banged open on its hinges, and my little brother threw his arms around me, burying his tearstained face into my shoulder.

"Al..." Matthew sobbed against my clavicle, "take me with you, please don't go alone..." I felt so bad for him, what was shy, socially awkward Matthew going to do without me? The bullies around school would probably start picking on him again, and he'd feel so alone...

He needed to be strong, even with me gone. "Chin up bro," I whispered, gently wiping away the tears on his face. "When you turn eighteen, you can come and see me whenever you like okay?"

"Where will you go?" Matthew questioned me, his big lavender eyes round, and fearful. Laughing boisterously to help diffuse the mood, I slung my arm around his neck, and gave him a gentle noogie which caused him to flinch; but smile all the same.

"Why, the Big Apple of course! They say if you can make it there-"

"You can make it anywhere, I know Al." Mattie finished for me, giving me an affectionate grin. His arms encircled me tighter, and he pressed his lips against my ear. "Remember, I'll always love you," he whispered, and then kissed my cheek.

Pulling away reluctantly from my younger brother, I gave him a rueful smile in response; too afraid to say "I love you too," because leaving him was already going to be hard enough. "Once you get settled in, don't forget to phone me the details of where you're living, so I can visit you." Matthew gave me a pointed glance, trying to drive the request home.

"Yeah yeah, I won't leave ya' hangin'." He truly smiled then, his baby face looking even younger as it lit up.

I left that house an hour later, and I've never looked back.

With what little money I had saved up, I bought a one way train ticket to New York. As the throng of passengers disembarked onto the platforms, my feet hit the pavement of the city I had admired my whole life. From that moment on, I'd fallen in love...

~O.o.o.O~

15th July, 1964

The rest of the details on my arrival to New York City are very lackluster, so I usually like to focus only on the most important parts. The first thing I did when that big city tried to swallow me up, was search for a job, because I only had enough cash on me to pay for a weeks worth of food at the most. Sadly this was easier said then done, so for a whole week I searched for work, and bummed it on the streets in the meantime. Being homeless wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, because at night I got to roam the streets and be myself for the very first time.

Eventually I did find a job at this quaint little pub run by some Irish guy; yeah, not stereotypical at all huh? Any way's, the guy offered me a job that included free room and board in one of the apartment rooms above the pub, so I moved in right away, and set up every thing in my small, run down, beautiful new home. It was the best feeling in the world, because even if I had to cut away the chains of my past, my future was bright and free.

~O.o.o.O~

5th January, 1965

Five and a half months flew by, and I found that the city lifestyle fit me like a glove. I loved the city, I loved my job, I loved my apartment with all its leaks and imperfections; but most of all I loved the freedom of it all, because I could do whatever the fuck I pleased. My job was fairly easy too, since all I had to do was clean tables, bus dishes, and some times take orders; and I was paid pretty well on top of it.

Now, in all honesty, I was never one of those people who bought into bull crap like fate or destiny; I was always of the opinion that life gave you what you asked of as I stood idly waiting by the front counter on this particular day, fate or destiny is what must have occurred. I was staring at the wall in sheer boredom, and eventually a certain flier caught my attention with its bold lettering and brightly colored paper.

"Straight from the UK, Time Square is proud to host the hottest band to hit these shores. 'Down With Parliament,' will be performing January 18th from 9 p.m. to 12 a.m. Tickets are $15 at the post and $20 upon arrival. It's a chance of a lifetime, so don't miss it!"

I was instantly intrigued. Sure, the tickets sounded a tad bit overpriced, but hell! I hadn't been to a concert since I was a kid, and I was totally into the whole British Invasion thing. So, the following day I purchased myself a ticket, and eagerly awaited the date of the concert.

~O.o.o.O~

18th January, 1965

Two weeks passed by excruciatingly slow, because it always seemed time liked to run at a snails pace when you were waiting for some thing exciting in the future. Finally though, it was the night of the concert, and I had worked overtime just so I could take tonight off. I was dressed in a casual pair of denim jeans, a red long sleeve shirt, and a faded black pleather jacket that I purchased at a thrift store. I made sure my hair looked clean and stylish, even with the annoying cowlick I had at the front of my head, that never seemed to stay down no matter how hard I tried. I may not have had a date to bring with me, but I still wanted to look my best, just in case I caught some one's eye.

I made my way on foot to Time Square, even though it was a long walk, because I wanted to save what extra pocket money I had on a vinyl, just in case I liked their music. The place was packed with people when I got there, all sitting on makeshift seats or standing around in large throngs. I handed my ticket stub to a pretty girl at the admission table, who seemed to blush as she handed me my other half. I was flattered that she found me attractive, but I stayed aloof on purpose so she wouldn't get her hopes up, as she tried to ask me my name.

I walked away from the poor girl, and made my way as best as I could, to the front of the stage; eagerly awaiting the performance to start. A little past nine, the band finally took the stage. There was a drummer, base guitarist, a guy on a keyboard, and then him. A man stood before the microphone in front of all the other band members, a lead guitar slung over his shirtless chest; which was crazy because it was at least 40 degrees out here.

To most people, there probably wasn't anything exceedingly spectacular about this man's appearance, but I would have been lying to myself, if I said he was anything but drool worthy. The shirtless rocker had straw colored hair that stuck out at crazy angles, in a shaggy sexy mess around his face. His eyes were a bright, toxic green that I could see even from where I stood in the crowd; and his skin was as fair, and as radiant as starlight.

He had a small, but perfectly muscled frame, and above those mesmerizing green eyes he had thick, intense eyebrows that only accentuated the best features of his face. I was already drooling over his good looks, but I practically died and went to heaven from the first time I heard is gruff, English accented voice.

" 'Ello New York, are you ready to rock tonight?" His words caused the crowd to grow wild with cheers and screams, and in response he shot us all a deliciously devilish smirk. Then, he strummed a few chords on his guitar, and the band followed suit as he began to sing. I was instantly hooked...

~O.o.o.O~

During one of their particularly catchy songs the lead singer came sliding forward on his knees, and because by now I was practically at the front of the stage, we came face to face. My breath froze in my lungs, because now I was close enough to see a light dusting of freckles across his alkaline nose. He just continued singing, but he sent me a knee-weakening wink before righting himself, and wandering to the other side of the stage. My heart was beating inhumanly fast, and I could feel the heat radiating from my cheeks as I could only think of how I wanted to kiss him.

After the performance, I stuck around in a long line for an autograph. I was desperate to see this man just one more time. My stomach was racing with butterflies, just from the thought of possibly touching his hand, and I didn't even know his name yet... I really had it bad.

" 'Ello there lad," a familiarly accented voice snapped me out of my thoughts. He was smiling at me crookedly, an oversized eyebrow raised in amusement. I moved forward shyly, and offered up my ticket stub for him to sign. "Did you enjoy the performance?" He asked, scribbling away at the piece of paper. Swallowing harshly, I nodded almost furiously in response. God, I thought, I had to see this man again.

"Wouldyouliketogowithmeonadate?!" I blurted out in one go, my cheeks flaming in embarrassment. The mans's pen stilled, and he looked up at me, his mouth hanging open and shock written all over his face. I immediately regretted my outburst; I didn't even know if this man even liked other men and I pretty much embarrassed him in front of a group of strangers. Way to go Jones...

He blinked rapidly a few times, and seemed to be quite taken aback. I was just about to make a dash for it, leaving my ticket stub behind, when he opened his mouth and made my heart stop. "It seems as if you've read my mind." He gave me that crooked little grin again. My face instantly lit up, and I grabbed the offered ticket stub from his outstretched hand. Looking down at it, hoping that maybe he wrote his name or number on the ticket, I was surprised to find a time, a date, and an address on the back.

"Alfred Jones," I simply supplied, moving out of the line now. He gave me a full smile then, his toxic green eyes dancing and shimmering like liquid emeralds.

"Arthur, Arthur Kirkland." I almost swooned, because he was just so quintessentially British; and damn if it made me girly, but I couldn't help but love how gentlemanly he came off to me. Waving goodbye, I practically skipped home, already wishing it was January 21st.

~O.o.o.O~

21st January, 1965

We met up at a little café at 1:30 p.m. on January 21st, three days after we first met. He ordered a cup of tea, and I coffee. It was adorable how he wrinkled his nose in disgust at my choice of drink. After we each took a few hesitant sips, we then got to talking.

We talked about our careers mostly; the differences in lifestyle between a pub busboy and a Rockstar, were vast to say the least. At one point he took a long sip of tea, and regarded me intently over the rim of his teacup. "So Alfred," Arthur set his cup down and leaned back in his chair, "I'm curious as to why you assumed that I would even fathom the notion, of going on a date with you."

Blinking rapidly at the quick change in conversation topic, I began to blush because of my reason for inviting him on a date. "I don't know," I mumbled, staring deeply into the dark, reflective pool of the coffee in my cup. "There's... there is just some thing about you, that made me want to see you again."

He laughed then, and it was a rather light, and rich tone. "You are rather bold, though it's to be expected from an American- a New York man no less." Arthur looked at me coyly, an odd mixture of mischief and restraint hiding in the depths of those mesmerizing eyes. It was like he wanted to play with me, but wans't sure how far he could push his limits.

"Hey," I couldn't help but blush fiercely in response, "I'll have you know that I was born and raised in Maine, so there!" I ended my fit with a childish display of my protruding tongue.

He laughed again, this time louder and more unrestrained. "You are a very interesting man, Mr. Jones."

~O.o.o.O~

12th February, 1965

After that, we met up at least once a day for the three weeks that Down With Parliament were on tour in N.Y.C. And in those three weeks I had learned almost everything there was to learn about Arthur Kirkland.

He was born and raised in Winchester England, and he was 25 years old. Ever since he was 19 he knew he was gay, and came out to his family, and ultimately all of England when he formed his insanely popular band at the age of 21. His favorite color was red, he loved The Beatles, and at some point in time he told me that he had dabbled with the occult.

Arthur was dark and mysterious, quick to anger and slow to forgive; but he was kind in his own way, and so enigmatic! Behind that stuffy Englishman way of manners and propriety, was a feral beast waiting to be set free- and dear God how I wished that I possessed the keys to that cage... and well in the end, as clichéd as it was, I fell in love with him. I was madly, head over heels, fly me to the moon in love with every last one of his bizarre quirks and enchanting charm. He had me wrapped around every one of his slender fingers...

"Artie..." an oversized eyebrow twitched at the usage of the nickname I gave him, that he disliked so much. "Before... before you go, I want to tell you something." Geez, my outrageously blushing face was going to give me away!

The corners of his mouth tilted upwards slightly in amusement. "What is it Alfred?" Swallowing the lump that had formed in my throat, I took his rough hands in mine tightly. He looked up into my eyes, with curiosity brimming through his own. I breathed deeply, and let it all out slowly to calm my racing heartbeat. This was it, the point of no return.

"I-I love you, Arthur Kirkland. From the very bottom of my heart, I love you with all that I am." Arthur's face instantly flared a soft pink, his bright eyes searching mine imploringly.

"You do?" His question was wary, like he didn't quite believe what I had just said.

"I wouldn't have said so if I didn't. I'm not like that, I don't say things that I don't mean." I replied firmly, squeezing his hands in a reassuring sort of way.

Arthur leaned in slowly, his breath fanning out across my cheeks as he shyly bumped his nose against mine. "I love you too," he whispered so softly I almost didn't hear him, before kissing me gently on the lips.

After everything, he gave up his Rockstar career. When his bandmates asked why he had such a drastic change of heart about his future, he just smiled fondly and grabbed my hand. "The American fool told me he loves me. So, I've decided to stay in America, with this stupid git that I love in return."

~O.o.o.O~

12th February, 1966

"Alfred, don't forget to grab a coat. It's a mite bit chilly out there tonight," Arthur called from the dining room. Poking my head out of the kitchen, I looked towards the couch, where I had last seen my faded pleather jacket.

"Huh, it's not there... hey Artie, do you know where my jacket is?"

"Check the hall closet," He shouted back. So I headed over to the closet by the entryway, opening the wood door hastily.

"Thanks hun- wait, what's this?" I held out a brown, leather jacket warily, looking at it in confusion.

"Happy one year anniversary love," Arthur whispered against my neck, as he wrapped his arms around me from behind. "It's that bomber's jacket that you've been wanting since the day I met you."

Turning in his embrace, I blinked through the tears that began to prick at my eyes. "Arthur- God, I love you more than anything else in the world."

He smiled at my words, and kissed me softly. "I love you more," he simply replied. Then, we kissed again, my jacket falling from my grasp and onto the floor in my need for his body to be closer to mine. I wrapped an arm tightly around his waist, my other hand tangled in the back of his shaggy hair. I pulled him flush against my body, and deepened our kiss by opening my mouth.

Our tongues tangoed to the sensuous beat that we were creating, my slick muscle taking the lead naturally. Heat pooled like quicksilver through my veins, warming my skin considerably. "Fuck... Artie, I want you." I groaned out around clenched teeth, as he raked blunt fingernails down my back.

"Really now?" He murmured coyly against my ear, before taking the lobe into his mouth, and nipping softly. "Well, yet again Mr. Jones, it seems that we are on the same page." I moaned loudly as he ground his hips against mine to prove his point. I pulled away regretfully, and Arthur whined in frustration, his green eyes dark with want.

"I'm sorry Artie, but I want to give you your present before we get freaky!" His mouth pulled into a pout, which I found utterly adorable.

"Well, I suppose I can't very well stop you since you have already got me some thing, even though you spoil me enough as it is..." I smiled brightly and told him to wait there as I ran into the garage to retrieve the package I'd been hiding there for about a week.

"So this is why you would not let me clean the garage," Arthur quipped when I returned, and carefully handed him the package.

"Exactly! Do you know how hard it was to keep you from finding that? I had to change the hiding place like, four times."

"I love the wrapping paper," Arthur replied dryly, "very clever using the English flag pattern..." I just shrugged it off, and gestured eagerly for him to open the present. He rolled his eyes as if he was annoyed by my childishness, but smiled all the same as he slowly unwrapped the gift. Arthur silently gasped once he opened the box, that lay beneath cheap, waxy paper. "It's a tea set." He lifted the white china with forest green tree patterns in the air, inspecting one of the teacups with awe.

"I hope you like it, I had them imported from Holland, so it would be kinda hard to return..." Tears began to gather in his green eyes, and his lower lip quivered in the way it did when he was trying not to cry.

"It's absolutely beautiful, and so very thoughtful. Thank you, love." He set the box carefully upon the coffee table, before kissing me thoroughly, and through our shared tears of happiness.

~O.o.o.O~

4th July, 1968

"Alfred, are you okay love?" Arthur questioned me, as he shoved more paper plates into a big garbage bag. Smiling because of my nostalgic memories that I had been stuck in all night, I shook them away, and turned towards the man who might has well have been my Husband and laughed.

"Of course Artie, just got lost in thought there for a while." He smiled back, that halfway upturn of his lips that I loved so much.

Arthur tossed an empty paper cup at me and said, "Well, are you going to leave me to clean up this mess 'Birthday Boy' or are you going to help?"

"Don't forget total hero of the world!" I replied, and he laughed long and hard, the apparent mirth twinkling in his eyes.

"Yes, we cannot forget that." All was quiet for a while, as we cleaned up together.

"You know, I've been thinking Artie, and do you want to know what I've been thinking about?"

"I suppose it would not hurt to hear another one of your ridiculous thoughts," he replied with faux sarcasm.

Pausing for a moment to collect my thoughts, I looked him dead in the face to show that I was serious about this. "I think we should try and adopt a child, what do you think? I know it'll be hard, especially since many places won't even consider us since our union isn't even legal, but I want to try."

His face transformed into the radiant sun, because deep down, a family is all he'd ever wanted out of life. "You already know my answer to that," he replied, and fondly squeezed my hand.

~T.B.C.~

E/N: Whelp, there's chapter 5 for ya' guys! I apologize if the line breaks and time skips got annoying at all, but I wanted to tell a whole life story as briefly and as concisely as possible with this chapter. Pretty much after Alfred and Arthur started dating they pooled their money together, and got a new apartment for a while. Al eventually got a job at Gateway inc, and the two bought a house together, which is where they live now. I still liked the image of young Alfred working in a pub, and Rockstar Arthur is just drool worthy I tell ya'... I honestly considered keeping Artie a rocker, but the fact that he gave it all up for love was just so cute, I just couldn't.

Down With Parliament isn't a real band, at least to my knowledge, and it only lives inside my head; where sexy British men rock out, and sing beautiful music for me... if you can't tell I have a soft spot for Foreign guys and musicians. :)

Next chapter will be back in Ludwig's perspective, like usual. Please review for more of my eternal love, I know you want it! ^_~

And now I'm off to listen to more IAMX, because now I'm in the mood for some awesome British Alternative Rock of pure epicosity!

*hopefully I can post chapter 6 faster then last two have been posted, but please be patient with me guys. Life can get pretty busy, and I have a lot of other fanfictions still on my plate...