Oh Baby, Dont You Know I Suffer?

Alfred strung a chord on his guitar, smiling as they echoed throughout the now empty hall.

"You were amazing tonight, Al," a voice came from the shadows, and he didn't even have to turn to know who it was.

"Aren't I always?" He grinned to himself, turning to face the shadows. His smile grew wider as a figure made its way into the light and towards him.

"Well, that's the last time I compliment you, git."



The room was silent, all but for the soft breathing as a figure lied stretched out across the floor. A photo album was spread out before him, sunlight reflecting off the polished surfaces of the photographs. The figure smiled to himself, leaning down to stroke the pages. Blonde hair shuffled in the wind that flew in through the open window.

Tears threatened to fall as he remembered all their time together, all the mistakes, all the happy memories that he'd never replace for anything.

Next to the album, a simple piece of paper lay discarded on the floor. It was plain, except for an elegant scribble.

'Happy Anniversary, Iggy.'

"Bloody Americans."



Gunshots resounded through the air; bodies littered the floor as the heavens opened up. Rain poured down, drenching anyone who dared to breach the safety of shelter.

The fighting had stopped, for now. For the first time in ages, there was peace. Everywhere, but in the hearts of 2 lovers. Fighting for opposite sides, pitched against one another; fighting to survive against the very one's lived for.

If only the hadn't started the fight, then maybe they would've still been with one another. But the lies had kept coming, entangling them until it had all become too hard to handle. And so, they had struck out; the only way they knew how. Through war.

And so, as the rain continued to pour; washing the blood away, 2 flags whispered in the wind: stars and crosses mingling together.



The radio blasted as a red Ferrari made its way through the curvy lines of the English countryside. It was empty except for 2 men; whose hands were clasped tightly together.

"Hey Iggy?"

"Yes, Alfred?" Arthur turned his attention away from the magnificent views.

"I just realised something..." Arthur nodded to the boy, willing him to hurry up and voice his thoughts; that were likely to be completely stupid.

"Well . . . what's our song?"



The cemetery was completely empty, the moonlight casting shadows on the muddy ground below. All the graves looked exactly the same; except for one. It was newer; time had yet to take its toll on the polished rock. And the flowers were new too; they had yet to wilter – their red petals glistening. A piece of colour that beckoned to all.

And on the grave stones, two names could be easily read.

'Here lies Alfred Jones and Arthur Kirkland. Two souls that were hastily ripped from this world, but will forever live on within us.'



"Hey Canada, is it all right if I come over today?" the small boy nodded at his friend, and was rewarded with a bright grin.

"Thanks. And hey, has your 'Mom' come back from the business trip yet?" America asked, during the 5 minute walk to Canada's house.

"Uh-huh. Dad called ahead last night, said the plane would be arriving around 2."

"Sweet." America pumped his fists, grinning like a maniac. They arrived at the apartment quickly, and as soon as they walked in through the door they found 2 suitcases. England was back.



"She said "he's so sweet, I wanna lick the wrapper."" Alfred giggled, and latched on to a fuming England.

"Ugh, how the hell did you manage to get so drunk, America?" the Brit wrapped an arm around the boy, beginning the long tiresome journey back to their apartment.

"Hehehe, Francis said it would make you like me." The American giggled as Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Stupid, I already like you."

"You do?" They had ceased walking now, choosing instead to stare into one another's eyes.

"Well then, can I have a lick of your lollipop?"



Arthur was a slut, and that was a nice way of saying it. He enjoyed dressing up every night, kitted only in a black dress. Sure, he'd give it up if he had the chance; but there was no way he'd ever be able to.

And so, he tried to make the most of it. He wore that black dress, the red lipstick. And guys went crazy for it. They loved him for it. Which was good, it meant he made more money without having to shack up with bums off the street who could barely pay to look after themselves.

He did have a favourite though, they all did. One customer who had them always breaking down the boundaries; letting them do things to them that they never allowed anyone else to do.

His was a blonde, blue-eyes American. Alfred Jones. The unknowing love of his life.



The music played gently in the background as they danced to the familiar beat. They shared gentle kisses every now and then, savouring the moment.

"Artie?"

"Hmm...?" the voice came out muffled, as the Brit buried his head in the American's neck.

"You'll love me forever right? You won't just go and leave me one day?"

"Git, of course I won't. And obviously, I love you. If I didn't, would I do this?" Arthur leaned up, kissing Alfred passionately and without restraint. They broke apart, breathing harshly.

"Good. Because we're going to be together forever." They smiled at one another, and turned to watch the approaching break of dawn.



The sun was bright, and hot as it beat down on the crowds that had swarmed to the beach at the first sighting of the sun.

"Gosh, Iggy. You Brit's really don't see the sun that much does ya'?" Arthur and Alfred were walking along the beach hand in hand. They each carried a skateboard under their arms.

"Shut it, America. And don't keep waving at random people; we already stand out too much." Arthur huffed, pouting at the American.

"Sorry England." Alfred leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on the Brits lips.