Chapter 1: When I Met Him

The line between sanity and insanity is paper thin, but who is it that determines where that line is? Consider that balding cashier with the obsessive hair plucking, or the lady that screams obscenities and throws her cats at the neighbors. People probably aren't born crazy as shit. Kids are cute and junk, not whack-jobs. But in life, things just happen. Maybe it'll be something as simple as falling in love, because love is normal. It's normal, that is, until protecting your loved one turns into stalking them. Then all of a sudden, they do something that makes you jealous, and you just crack. You end up paying people to clean up your dirty work, blackmailing your friends, and kicking evidence under the rug in the living room. The next thing you know, the cops break into your house and find you huddled up in your closet, covered in blood and laughing to yourself. Probably because they found out what happened to that happy little couple. People don't seem to like finding a young woman hanging upside down from the chandelier in her home, with a gapping hole in her chest exposing all of those beautiful broken ribs. Or finding her ripped out heart sitting neatly in a teacup on the dinner table. But as I said before, its love. Crime of passion and all that jazz. Its what the little slut deserves, after all, for going after someone she shouldn't have. But it's not like it matters now anyway, my lovely little cheater had a pretty bullet shot between his eyes so he can join his slut in the afterlife. You know the saying; if I can't have him, no one can. And by now it became increasingly obvious that he would never love me. Everything ended up kind of a blur after that, and I wound up here in the electric chair, waiting for them to flip the switch.

And all I can think is, this shit happened because I met him.

"Mattie, you're now my prisoner! I want you to pick up that dirt and eat it!"

"A-Al, you destroyed my sand castle!"

"Prisoners don't have the right to own castles!" Alfred laughed, the cherry red cowboy hat on top of his golden hair bouncing slightly as he stomped enthusiastically on his seven year old cousin's sand castle. Matthew made a quiet whine in the back of his throat, shielding his eyes from the flying specs of dirt and weakly swatting at Alfred's knees. He whined a little louder when the hyperactive child tried to pry his mouth open and shove a handful of sand into it.

"Q-q-quit being such a bully, please," he said with a muffled whimper, trying to shield his face from prying hands. Alfred just huffed and decided to pile sand on top of Matthew's head instead, rubbing it into his blonde hair. Matthew continued to whine silently, hoping his aunt would look up from her position on the park bench and see them. Not much luck in that happening, though, she seemed to be completely entranced by the book she was reading. This seemed to be how most of their summer days at the community park ended up.

Alfred puffed out his cheeks and whined a little, bored already. "Maaaattie, play with me! I can't play Cowboy's and Indian's if I don't have an Indian! Now," he said, pulling a water gun out of his pocket and grinning widely. "Tell me, do you feel lucky, punk?"

Matthew squeaked when he was shot in the face by a stream of water, and sprinted from his spot in the sandbox with Alfred following close behind. Matthew at first was able to keep a good distance, but he didn't know how long he could keep it up. Although they were the same age, Alfred had longer legs and more energy than his frail cousin, and when Matthew tried to scramble his way across the balance beam, he was tackled to the ground and pinned face down by the bubbly blonde. He heard a triumphant snicker from above him and sighed, resting his face in the dirt. Apparently, like always, he wasn't going to be given a choice in whether he wanted to play with Alfred or not.

A thoughtful hum came from the boy as ran his fingers through Matthew's now sand covered hair. "Now, what should I do with you, Indian scum? I could always scalp you as revenge for my people, but uh..I don't know exactly how to do that, sooo..." A long pause followed this, and Matthew hoped he got bored again. He felt his eye twitch when he heard his American cousin make a small noise of curiosity.

"...Matthew, who's that over there?" He strained to look over his shoulder and was able to catch sight of Alfred staring at something across the park. Sighing, he turned to look in the same direction and saw two people arguing with each other. The taller one, a red head who looked to be in his early teens, seemed to be picking on a short girl with medium length blonde hair, who looked to be their age. He sighed again and twitched his nose. "I don't know a lot of people, why would I know them? But you should just leave them alone, you're too nosy.." It wasn't a surprise when he felt the weight on his back vanish, a mumbled and quick explanation of "I'm a hero" from above him, and then the sight of Alfred sprinting towards the other side of the park, his untied shoelaces flailing as he went.

Across the park, the red headed boy seemed to be taunting the little girl with a chocolate bar, snickering as she continuously tried to reach for it and pulling it above his head and out of reach. The girl, frustrated and angry, tried jumping for it, but ended up kicking at the older boys shins instead, which only seemed to irritate him into kicking back. Before any real damage could be done, a flash of blonde hair appeared and slammed right into the taller boy, barely moving the taller boy from his spot.

"What the bloody crud do ye think ye doin', laddie?" He scowled down at Alfred, who took a defensive stance in front of the girl, puffing his chest out and standing as tall as he could manage. The red head, looking completely unimpressed, gave an uncaring shrug. "I shouldn' have ta' deal with rotten lil' brats..." He said something mumbled to the blonde girl, who made a disgruntled face as he smirked and ate the chocolate bar, and walked away towards a small group of people who looked close to his age, next to a tired looking older lady.

Alfred, awfully proud with himself for getting the older boy to leave, turned towards the girl and gave her a victorious thumbs-up. "Looks like the hero strikes again!" He blinked at the face she was making, which was red from frustration, the unshed tears making her green eyes shine, and gave her a lopsided smile. "Aw, you don't have to cry." Then he poked her right on one of her eyebrows, and cocked his head to the side. "Did he steal your chocolate bar because you have huge eyebrows for a girl?"

He almost laughed at the way her face twisted between several emotions, and the way she stumbled over several words but never managing to get a single one out. It was kinda cute. Until she gave him a sharp kick right in the leg and gave out a frustrated growl, mumbling something about 'stupid frogs and their stupid faces'. Alfred, trying in an attempt to appear harmless, fell to the ground and clutched his leg in only half fake pain, whining and rolling on the grass.

Unamused, she kicked him in the arm and pulled at her hair, trying to make a point. "I'm not a bloody girl, you stupid moron! I knew I shouldn't have grown my hair out. That stupid bloody frog!" she (well, he, apparently) hissed out in a British accent, still turning various shades of red from irritation and humiliation. She gave him another good swift kick in the side, which he whined even louder because of, and ran off towards the same small group the older Scottish boy had went to.

Alfred stared after the long haired boy, rolling onto his stomach as Matthew finally made it over, walking at a leisurely pace. He sat down next to his cousin and wiped off the grass from his back, making a soft disappointed noise in the back of his throat. "You should have just left it alone," he said softly, checking for any injuries just to be safe.

Pushing himself up off of the ground, Alfred turned quickly and tackled the other boy to the ground in a bear hug. "Mattie, Mattie! Who are they, they don't look familiar!"

Matthew sighed, trying to push the others arms away from his chest so he can breath. "I already told you, I don't know. But I think Auntie Anna is ready to go. I was just coming to tell you." He managed to push himself up and dragged the curious American back towards where their guardian was waiting, still sitting on the park bench. On the ride home, Alfred continued to pester Matthew, but quickly got bored and forgot about it in favor of staring at a squirrel outside of the car window.

He had almost forgotten the situation until a month later at the start of school. When he arrived on the first day with Matthew in their second grade classroom, he ran towards the front of the room to grab a seat, slamming his backpack onto the table. Matthew quietly sat next to him and began getting ready for the start of class, trying to ignore the enthusiastic boy next to him. As the bell rang for school to start, a blonde haired boy ran into class, panting slightly and looking flustered. Trying to be discrete, he shifted his way towards Alfred's table to the only seat left, sinking into his chair to try and appear invisible. Alfred cocked his head to the side, and poked the boy's large eyebrow. "Giant eyebrows! I remember you, you're the he-she!" The blonde boy, who's hair was now cut shorter but looked uneven and butchered like it was cut by a drunk, grimaced and twitched his nose. He gave Alfred a disapproving look and swatted away his hands. "Touch my eyebrows again, and I'll bite you" he mumbled in that same British accent, trying to stay quiet as the teacher began talking in front of the class.

Alfred smiled brightly and began kicking his feet underneath the desk. "My name is Alfred F. Jones! What's yours?" He was quickly shushed by the teacher, and ignored by the blonde boy. Annoyed, he kicked at the boy's legs and continued asking for his name, but this time in a semi-quiet whisper. He watched the boys face intently, seeing the clear signs of agitation and continued to pester him for a response. The boy kept his mouth locked shut, which only served to agitate the American even more. He crossed his arms and pouted loudly, answering to the role the teacher began in slight annoyance. Matthew next to him whispered something about behaving, but he kind of forgot his cousin was even in the room.

He tried to stay agitated, but couldn't help letting his lips quirk to a half smile when the Brit answered his name to the role, still intent on ignoring him.

Arthur.

Alright, then. Chapter 1: complete. I don't really have much to say... I do plan to continue this, although I'm not sure how long it will be, or how long it will take me to finish it. I appreciate constructive criticism, because I get worried over whether I use the right words in certain places, or if it flows coherently. And this is my first fanfiction, so I hope that I don't butcher it completely.

Um. Other than that, there isn't much to say. I won't give away pairings, but there will be some boy x boy, so if you're uncomfortable with that..uh..sorry? Character death is a given. And I'll give OC names when it comes to it, because I can't think at the moment. I'm practically positive everyone knows I don't own Hetalia, so I don't know what to say to that...

Really, my mind is blank and slowly fading on me, folks. I'll update...EVENTUALLY~!