Hey everyone, I'm back with a new chapter! There will be a long PS in the end of the AN's that I REALLY hope that you guys read, because it is important! This is unbeta'd, so any mistakes are entirely my own.

Thank you everyone for sticking with me, and I hope that you enjoy this new segment. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia! Just my OC's. Who aren't even in this chapter besides mentions anyways.

Deciding to befriend Arthur was turning out to be one of the most interesting choices Alfred had made in a long while. It had been two weeks since that surprising lunch date, and since then he found himself sitting in study period with his new friend. They did not talk much, and for some reason there had been more than one occasion where he caught the other boy just…staring at him. Alfred never let on that he caught him, unsure of how he would react. Besides that, as long as that green gaze never caught on to the bruises or cuts, he would leave it be. No point in making a fuss over nothing when he had other things to worry about.

It was almost time to take his stitches out, and Alfred was only the slightest grateful for that. Thanks to him having them his dad had not been as tough as he could be, physically. He was still harsh when it came to his words; there was never a change in that. But he knew that he had required him to need stitches, and knew how long he should have them in for, so he had settled for kicks to the legs or tight grips to his forearms for the duration.

Alfred liked when he did those things better, when his torso and back were left free. Those hits always hurt the worst, and he had the toughest time dealing with them in everyday movement. Though they were easier to hide, he knew, compared to the bruises that were just barely hidden underneath his t-shirts.

That fact made him fond of fall, when the weather would start to take a turn to chilly and he could get away with wearing a long sleeve, or more likely, a jacket. His favorite one—that he only wore when he knew his dad was in a more favorable move—was his grandpa's old brown leather bomber jacket. It still fit a bit big on him, but he had been assured by his grandpa throughout his childhood that he would someday grow into it.

Grandpa had bought it will he was active in the army, and had passed it down to his dad once he had joined; Alfred shouldn't have inherited it yet, but when grandpa passed away, grandma said he should have it now. It was good that she had, for she had followed him only months later and he knew that his dad would have never given him it. The jacket and his dogtogs that they had made for him when he was born were all that he had left of them, and he took excellent care to make sure that his father never got his hands on them.

He didn't usually wear them outside of his shirt; when they were on his neck they were hidden, so that his father did not see them and as such did not know about them. The older man had forgotten about them by the time the beatings started, and so far he had been lucky about them going unnoticed. They were a calming, familiar weight on his chest, grounding him whenever he found his thoughts starting to drift to places he swore they would never go. He could not bear to have them taken from him.

Running a finger along the outline of them under his shirt, Alfred settled back into his seat, eyes focused on the white board as the teacher explained the latest problem to them. As he dutifully copied the instructions down he did his best to straighten out of his slump, knowing that his teacher would not hesitate to get him in trouble for his poor posture.

The period flew by fast, Alfred having no troubles with the lesson plan that day. The teen found himself eager for his next period, to seeing a friend, in the first time in what had been too long a time. Though he knew that they would no doubt spend the class in nothing but silence, he could not help but rush to the class the moment the bell rang.

It took him no time at all to find their table and sit in his spot, dropping his backpack onto the table before digging around for his Pre-Cal work to get a head start on his homework. He soon found himself drawn into his work, chewing lightly on his lower lip as he figured out the more difficult problems.

For the rest of the period he worked in silence, glancing up only briefly when Arthur arrived, sitting down across from him. Alfred shared a shy smile with the Brit, briefly noting the flush that adorned his cheeks. He didn't think about it for long, his mind sucked into his work still. The class session passed quicker than Al thought that it would, the bell startling him out of his concentration and back into reality.

He packed up quickly, looking up to see that Arthur had waited for him. It was still strange, having a friend who waited around for him and actually wanted to spend time with him. Despite the oddness of it, it felt nice; really nice, if he was being honest. It was the best feeling that he had felt in a long, long time.

"Are you eating at that place again, or did you pack a lunch today?" Arthur's distaste for McDonald's was only too plain, a fact that did nothing but amuse Alfred. No matter how he would turn his nose up at the idea of eating there, he would still go and have a meal with him if that was what he chose for the day.

"I brought a lunch today," he told him, smiling lightly at the way Arthur's face brightened just the slightest at knowing that he did not have to eat there that day.

"Good, then we're eating where I choose today." He said, leading the way out without giving Alfred a chance to reply. That did not bother him in the slightest; it was nice to just go along with the flow on occasion. So far his new friend had not had them join his group of friends at lunch, something that Alfred was grateful for.

He figured that he missed spending the lunch hour with them, but he never brought that up. If Arthur, for whatever reason, chose to spend those sixty minutes with him instead of his loud, interesting group of friends, who was Alfred to tell him no? That day it seemed that they were going to be sitting outside, under the shade of a tree that he seemed to favor. It was far away enough from the school that they could not hear their fellow students, but not so far away that they could not hear the bell.

They sat down in silence, sitting with their backs to the tree, their lunches separating them. Alfred was finding that he enjoyed having someone around, even if they hardly ever talked. The quiet was oddly comfortable, and so different from the daunting silence that he tended to face at home. Picking at his sandwich he wondered how long that this would last. Even Kiku, the quietest and least intrusive person at their school, had eventually asked questions.

Once he had saw how uncomfortable it made Alfred—so, immediately—Kiku had stopped questioning, but it had been too late. As much as he had enjoyed his company, the thought of him asking him things he could not answer had haunted Alfred, causing him to slowly withdraw from the only friendship he had tried to start in years. That was in the beginning of freshman year, and though almost four years had passed he still caught him, at times, staring at him as if trying to figure him out. It made him uncomfortable, and so he always made sure to find a way to get something between him and that intense gaze until he was no longer focused on him.

Deciding that lunch that day was a lost cause he set the half eaten sandwich aside, sighing as he looked up at sky. Placing his hand on his stomach he thought about what he would be making for dinner that night, and what chores needed to be done that day. Tapping his fingers he hummed under his breath, nose wrinkling when he realized that he would have to go grocery shopping soon.

With a slight huff he slowly straightened from his slouch, digging around in his backpack to find a blank piece of paper to write his grocery list down on. Fishing a pen out of his bag he pushed the top, tapping the pen against the paper a few times in a quick rhythm before starting to write down what he needed.

While he did he failed to notice the way Arthur was glancing at him from the corner of his eye curiously, seemingly unable to tear his gaze away. He slowly looked him over, wanting to know about him but not knowing how to go about that. It was no secret on campus that Alfred F. Jones was a very private person, prone to being quiet and alone. From what he was told when he first arrived on campus and asked questions he hadn't always been that way. It left one wondering what had happened to turn such a happy, outgoing kid into the introverted person that he was today.

"Alfred?"

"Hmm?"

"Uh…never mind."

Frowning slightly Alfred looked up from his list, tilting his head to the side as he looked at Arthur in confusion. "What's up?"

Arthur shook his head, a small smile on his lips. "I didn't actually have anything to say." He admitted embarrassedly, blushing lightly under Alfred's curious gaze.

"Oh, well…alright." He shrugged, tapping him on the arm lightly with his pen. "Did you finish all your work for Mrs. Carter's class?" he asked.

"Of course; did you?"

"Yup." He said, popping the 'p'. "Wasn't too hard at all."

"Is English an easy subject for you?" Arthur asked curiously, seeing a chance to get to know him better and taking it.

"Yeah, it's my favorite subject. Math is pretty easy too, but my teacher really doesn't like me in that class. Dunno why." Folding his list up he stuck it in the front pocket of his backpack, tossing his pen in it as well before he zipped it shut.

"Who is that?" he asked unsure how someone could dislike him.

"Mr. Braginski. He's that really intense, creepy but strangely cheerful Russian teacher." Alfred remarked, wrinkling his nose briefly at the thought of the older man. He was a confusing personality and Alfred did not know what to do about it.

Arthur snorted, smirking at him. "That is an apt description."

Alfred grinned at him. "Thanks," he looked at his watch to check the time, sighing when he saw the time. "C'me on, the bells going to ring soon. We should probably start heading back."

Once the words left his mouth and they were starting to stand the bell rang, making Alfred bite his lip to hold back the grin that wanted to escape his lips. He did not have a reason to smile often, with his home life, but there was just something about hanging out with Arthur that made him want to smile. It was strange.

They slowly made their way to their next class, walking in a comfortable silence again. Their next class was P.E., with Mr. Carter, and it was not something that Al was really looking forward to. So far no one had noticed the stitches, but if Arthur started to decide to wait around for him after class…it wouldn't be long before he began to note how slow he could be when it came to changing.

Glancing at him from the corner of his eye, he wondered again on how long that this friendship would last. Looking down before he could be caught staring, Alfred hoped…well, he hoped that Arthur would at the very least pretend to be ignorant if he did happen to notice.

Nothing ruined a friendship more than a friend prying for the truth.

Not a damned thing.

As you can probably tell, the ending was a little hard for me. I knew I wanted the chapter to end, but could not get my words to flow correctly for some reason. Sorry about that. :/

I have a tumblr if you want to follow, and the link is on my profile. I also have a poll up, it would be great if you would go and vote! Aaand now for that PS.

So, good news and bad news guys. The bad news: the Hetalia fandom is no longer snagging my attention. I still love the characters, don't get me wrong, but it has not inspired me in quite a while. But, there is good news! While this may be true, I WILL be finishing this story, no matter what it takes! I've devised a schedule for it, so that way I hopefully write a certain amount of words a month, and update each month, or every two months. If all goes well, you should be getting regular updates! Wish me luck, yeah?

I hope that you guys stick around for more!

Please, leave a review! I love to know what you guys think.