Thick, hot tears silently streaked down your flushed cheeks as you watched Arthur's casket be lowered into the ground.
Al noticed your tears and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. You shot Al a watery smile, grateful for the comfort, though it faded the moment reality hit you. Arthur Kirkland, your beloved boyfriend, was dead. He was dead, and he wasn't coming back. The shock hadn't hit you the first time you saw his broken, bloody body. Not even the lack of emotion in his green eyes convinced you.
But now, now that you saw his body buried, you knew he was dead. Pulling away from Al's grasp, you slowly walked over to Arthur's grave, almost as if you were in a trance, and knelt down. "I'm sorry, Arthur." You whispered, trying to force a shakey smile, for the sake of your dearly departed boyfriend. "I love you so much."
Then your breath hitched, tears began to fall once again and, before you knew it, you were sobbing your heart out.
It took Al quite a while to pull you away from Arthur's grave, and even longer to convince you to get in his car. You agreed to spend the night at his house without much fuss, though; your house held too many painful memories you couldn't bear to face.
So now you were sitting on his couch, telling the American how you felt about this. "I miss him, Alfred." You confessed, keeping your eyes glued to the hot cocoa the American gave you. "I miss everything about him, his voice, the way he held me in his arms, the way he laughed....Why did he have to die?" A tear ran down your cheek.
The American leaned forward and kissed it. "I can help you forget, you know." He offered, getting a little too close for comfort. "Take those memories and replace them with pleasent ones."
You looked up from the cocoa, frowning. "Afred, if you mean what I think you mean, no. I'm just not ready for something like that right now."
The American smirked. "Well, I tried askin' nicely." Suddenly, Al lunged, pinning you to the couch. The mug hit the floor, shattering, spilling hot chocolate, though the American hardly seemed to notice as he began to kiss your neck.
"What do you think you're doing?!" You screamed, your cheeks turning bright red. "Alfred, I said no!" You gasped sharply when his teeth clamped down on your neck, leaving a bright red mark.
He licked the blood from your fresh wound, looking into your shocked eyes with a smirk. "Babe, I don't give a damn. I've been waiting far too long for this to not do it. 'Sides, I had to get red of him too, and that took some extra effort."
Your eyes widened. "You-You don't mean-?!" You couldn't believe it; sweet, happy Alfred? He wouldn't do such a thing!
"That's right." His smirk widened, showing off his shark like teeth. "I murdered Arthur Kirkland."
Oh god! "Alfred, why?!" The smirk slid off his face and, with no warning, harshly slammed his lips against yours. Pulling away just as quickly, he glared. "It's Al, not Alfed. Don't you ever call me that again!" His hands moved to your shirt, unbuttoning it.
You bit your tounge, trying to hold back tears; you refused to let him see you cry. You remembered Arthur told you once about the darker side all countries possessed, calling them the 2p!'s. All those times of Alfred blushing in your presense suddenly made sense. If only you'd noticed his feelings before, Arthur wouldn't be dead.
If you'd noticed, you wouldn't have awakened the dark side.