Fake (Hetalia: FrUkUs)

.7.

I wonder, what led me, exactly, to this point. Would I have tried heroine if I wasn't drunk off my ass? Would I have tried heroine if I hadn't read that tweet earlier? Would I have tried heroine if my mother would be home in two months? Would I have tried heroine if my brother had never died?

I'll never know.

~

The needle was pushed suddenly away from my arm, and I was yanked up from my chair. The needle never entered my skin.

"Alfred!" A voice exclaimed scoldingly. "What are you doing?" I couldn't place the voice, or the heavy accent. But, somewhere in my brain, it registered that there was a heavy accent and I leaned into the person.

"Hey, Iggy," I said slowly, "What're you doin' 'ere?" Why did my voice sound so funny? I laughed. "Heyyy, listen, lisssssen." I laughed again. "Doe'n't it soun' weird?" I turned my face into his chest. "You smell weird, Iggy. 'Ow drunk are you?" I felt something get placed over my shoulder's, and suddenly, I was being helped moved towards the side of the house as yelling erupted behind me. I didn't know who it was though.

I saw my car come into view and I grinned, "I driving!"

"Non." Was my answer. I whined.

"Aw, Iggy! Whyy?" I pouted. Then I grinned, "Shotgun!" I moved to run, and tripped over my feet. He caught me before I hit the ground. "Cool reflexes! You sould join mah team!"

I was being placed in the backseat of the car, and Iggy got in beside me, instantly falling to lean on my shoulder.

"Idiot," He muttered before passing out.

"No, Iggyyyy!" I whined, "Who's gonna drive?" The car started, and we were driving down the road. "Oh, you're gonna drive." I laughed at t he invisible driver. "Thank youuu!" It was my turn to fall asleep.

~

I woke up the next morning, with a pounding headache. I rolled over and it got worse.

"Shut uuup," I groaned as the pounding got louder. Something moved beside me and I was suddenly engulfed in warmth. I settled back in and slept more.

~

Waking up next wasn't as bad as last time. I still had a headache, but it was lesser than before. I sat up, a small groan escaping my lips.

" 'Ere," A glass was set on my bedside table, "Drink it." Arthur dropped onto the bed in front of me.

"Thanks," I muttered as I downed half the glass. He held out two pills, and I didn't question it and downed them immediately. The water helped a lot, and I finished the whole thing before setting it down. He took the glass and walked to my bathroom to refill it.

"Dude," I groaned, "How the hell are you not hung over? You were way more smashed then me."

"What do you remember from last night?" He asked as he handed the glass back to me. I took a long drink and set it down in my lap, still holding it.

"Uh, I remember getting there, and laughing at you as you got drunk, and getting drunk," I thought, "Making out with what's-his-dick, someone from the football team, and then... "Getting turned on by Arthur, "Uh, I don't know. It's kind of blurry. I remember dancing. A lot of dancing." And grinding, "And then, I was in the back yard, and with a bunch of kids. And then suddenly I was in my bed."

He nodded and stood up, "Think you can walk? Breakfast is ready." I felt my stomach flip. Food sounded amazing, but Arthur's food sounded terrible.

"Uh..."

"I didn't make it," He huffed. I let out a relieved breath, and threw the blankets off me. I stood up, a bit shakily, but up none-the-less, and we headed downstairs. I didn't think I would be able to jump the railing today. As we walked into the kitchen, it occurred to me what he said.

"Wait, if you didn't... Who cooked..?" He walked into the kitchen, and I walked behind him. My jaw dropped at who was sitting at the table.

"Francis."

~

Needless to say, it was a very awkward breakfast. I didn't give up the chance to eat, it had been two days since my last meal, but there was no conversation. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. Arthur seemed annoyed, what else was new, but something else was bothering him as well. He seemed worried. And Francis... Well, I didn't know a lot, anything, about him, but he seemed upset. Maybe, also worried.

Finally, after ten minutes of silence, it was broken.

"What the bloody hell happened last night?" Arthur finally broke. "What were you thinking?" He was glaring at me.

I jumped slightly at his sudden rage, confused by why he was upset.

"What are you talking about?" I said as I set my food down. "I was drunk, just like you. I don't think you have any room to yell," I thought for a moment, "Are you talking about that guy?" I thought for a moment, "I think it was Darryl," I leaned on the table and muttered, "You can't get mad about that. He has a tight ass."

Arthur stood up suddenly, and looked ready to blow at any second. "Dude," I raised my hands in what, hopefully, looked to be a sign of retreat, "does it piss you-" I cut off as I stared at my arms. My eyes went wide, and I shoved them under the table.

I was wearing a tank top, and my bandages had been changed. I pushed myself back from the table in a hurry, and suddenly, they were both standing, and they wore the same expression. Concern. Before they could react, I was to the bottom of the stairs, and taking them two at a time up to my room. Running totally wasn't the Heroic thing to do, but in this case I was making an exception.

I slammed the door behind me, cursed the no lock, and ran to my bathroom, which did have a lock. I sat on the other side of the door while they tried getting me out. But, it was no use. I wasn't leaving.

"Come on, Alfred," Arthur called, "You have to come out eventually. And I'm not leaving until you do." I snorted.

"School's tomorrow," I called triumphantly through the door, "And as much as it matters to you, I don't have to go." It was silent for only a moment.

"Open this damn door!"