Fake (Hetalia: FrUkUs)

.4.

From what I've seen of the new kid, he was becoming popular pretty fast. And I don't mean in the stereotypical "He's moving up in the ranks and will soon be dating the head cheerleader" sense. I mean he's gaining everyone's attention and everyone seems to love him.

When lunch came around, I was halfway to the lunchroom when my stomach clenched and I quickly turned and headed to the bathroom.

I barely made it into a stall before the bile from my stomach was thrown up into the porcelain toilet. I continued to empty my stomach, even though I hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday, into the toilet, even after it was mi and I was left dry-heaving. When I was done I shuddered as I sat up, and I grabbed some toilet paper to wipe at my mouth. 

"Excusez-moi?" I stiffened up as a voice echoed around the bathroom. "Are you alright?" It was the new kid. I stood up quickly and threw the toilet paper into the toilet before flushing it. I turned around, having mistakenly left the stall door open, and saw him staring at me concerned. "Ah, should I get the-"

"No," I cut him off and tried to smile. "Nah, man. It's fine. School food's just shit." I walked to the sink, turned on the tap, and attempted to rinse my mouth of the foul taste. I stood up, but he was still there, and he still looked worried.

"Dude, really. I'm fine!" I beamed at his reflection in the mirror.

"Are you-" I grew annoyed. 

"Hey," I dropped the smile, and my voice lowered as I glared slightly, "leave it alone." With that, I grabbed my bag and left the bathroom, and the nosy new kid, behind. Even if he told anyone about my change in demeanor, they wouldn't believe him.

He was just the new kid.

~

"Alfred!" I sat up in my seat and looked to the front of the room, "Have you heard a word I've said?" The teacher glared at me. I looked from her to the white board, and then back.

"Uh, yeah..." I trailed off, "Kinda..." She huffed and rolled her eyes before turning back and grabbing a green marker.

"Pay closer attention," She turned to the class, "That goes to all of you. This is going to be on your final!" I looked down at my empty notebook, and sighed.

It's been around two months since school started, and it was now October. After the first day of school, I never really had to deal with the new kid, Francis. He had three classes with me, and in one he sat next to me, but he never bothered me, let alone tried speaking with me.

When the bell for class rang, I was the last to the door, even though I had practically nothing to pack up.

"Alfred," The teacher caught my attention, "Can I speak with you a moment, please?" I nodded and walked over to her desk.

"Yes, ma'am?" I asked. She chuckled slightly and grabbed a paper from her desk.

"Don't call me ma'am, makes me feel old," She mused. I smiled slightly, and she held out a paper, "This is your current grade," She informed. I took the paper and saw a C-. "I know you can do better than this, Alfred. You've always excelled in science." I looked over the paper and let out a slow breath through my nose before looking back up and grinning sheepishly.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. Coach has been pushing us hard in practice lately. He wants to go for the third win in a row this year. Y'know, for the state championship." She nodded, but held a firm expression.

"I'm aware, it's his favorite topic in the teacher's lounge," She smirked slightly, "But, and I know you've heard what I'm about to say a thousand times, your school work comes before Football. I want you to focus more on your schooling, Alfred," She handed me some more papers, "If you want, these are some extra help. They're everything we've covered this unit so far. Do these, and show them to me when you're done. If you still grade lower than average on the next test, we'll talk. Okay?" I nodded and took the papers, a wide grin spreading across my face.

"Sure! Thanks ma- Ms. Reese!" I took them and headed out the door, as I waved back to her. As I walked out of the classroom I stuffed the papers into my bag. I wasn't paying attention as someone threw their arm out and hit me in the head.

"Ow! Damn!" I cursed as I stood up. "Artie!" I whined, "Why'd you hit me?" He rolled his eyes at my behavior and motioned to me to walk; we had the next class together.

"I heard what she was saying. You should have told me you were struggling, I could have tutored you," He grumbled. I shrugged.

"No offense, but last time you tutored me, I ended up at your house."

"And is something wrong with my house?" The Brit argued.

"Yeah," I answered honestly, "You cooked." His face flushed red, and I knew he was about to blow so I quickly changed the subject, "Dude! Have you seen the new football uniforms? They're way cooler than last years!"

It was successful, and I made it to class without anymore grilling. We were in the last class of the day, English, and I knew it was going to be a long forty-five minutes.

There was one bad thing about this class. It was in this period in which Francis sat next to me, and apparently today his two months of avoidance was coming to an end.

"Salut, Alfred," He greeted as I took my seat. I glanced over, inwardly sighed, and flashed him a dazzling smile.

"Hey!" I greeted lamely, "'Sup?" What else was I supposed to say to him? He sighed.

"Just, doing some last minute studying for the test," He commented as he looked down at his open notebook. I jumped from my seat and to my feet.

"No way! There's a test today?!" I exclaimed.

"Yes!" Arthur was the one to answer from the other side of me, "Now sit down, Jones!" I huffed as he used that name, and dropped down into my seat.

"You know that's not my name," I muttered. He rolled his eyes, and went back to reading a book, but a slight frown was pulling at the corner of his lips.

"Not your name?" I looked over at Francis, and he was supporting his chin with his hand as he leaned on the desk. "Do you have a different one?" That's right. He had only ever heard my name on roll-call, which was shortened.

I felt my chest tighten and I pretended to search through my bag so as not to see the people around us sympathetic stare's. They all knew.

"It's William," I said quietly. "William-Jones."

~

One cut,

Two cut,

Three cut,

And one

Brand new

Cut

It was as easy as One, Two, Three, A, B, C.

This was my routine. Open one, two, three, and a new one for me. It wasn't every day this happened, but I can't deny that it is often. It's not that bad really, the pain seems to lesson each time, thus the creation of a new one every time, and over time, the pain becomes routine.

The pain seems to be expected. I itch for it. When I don't have the resources I need, my arms begin to itch. They itch and itch until I, in some way, find a way to soothe them. Sometimes, it's rubbing at the bandages so they scrape the cuts, and sometimes it was ripping them open with my own nails.

But lately, it hasn't been enough. The pain isn't enough anymore. It doesn't stop my mind. It doesn't stop the pain. It doesn't stop me from hurting. Maybe that's why I've turned to starving myself. It's hard to focus on anything on an empty stomach. But, I knew that that too would eventually stop working. So, what would I do then?

I've heard there was a drug for this.... a medical one, of course.... Yeah, just medical...