A/N: Somehow I always manage to find time in my life to write new stories instead of working on my current ones. But never fear, the next chapter of So Much For My Happy Ending should be coming out tomorrow! -crosses fingers- As for this story... um. Well, just to clear things up, it is NOT my headcanon that Alfred is suicidal or depressed or anything like that. I just felt that he worked best for this story because of all the characters I could use with him. Generally I see him as a very happy person :) Wow, it seems like I really don't know how to write happy stories, does it? Well, enjoy what I have of this so far and let me know what you think!

There was no point anymore.

No one cared.

No one would care if he were gone.

So why not just make their lives better by taking himself out of them?

Alfred squeezed his eyes shut as he lay curled up in his bed. It couldn't be that hard, could it? There was plenty of stuff around the big house he could use. His parents never locked cabinets and his brother was always somewhere else. With somebody else. Unless their parents forced them to stick together, the brothers were hardly ever seen together. They had two completely different personalities.

Matthew was the quieter of the two, and Alfred was more rambunctious. Or so everyone thought.

Alfred was always Matthew's second choice to hang out with.

Alfred rarely had anyone.

So should he do it? Should he go on with his life, or should he just put himself out of his misery?

Should he continue to put up with the demands of others, the feeling of being alone, unwanted, and just a plain old nuisance?

He ignored the voice in the back of his head screaming at him to stop being so stupid, obviously some people cared about him.

What would Arthur think?

Alfred shook his head, clearing his thoughts. Sleep. He needed sleep.

Tomorrow, everything would be better.

Or so he hoped.

"Yo, Alfred, do you have twenty bucks I could borrow? I'm going to the movies with Nikolai this weekend and I'm supposed to pay, but I'm totally broke. He'd definitely kill me if I showed up with no money." Mathias, the tall kid from Denmark slung an arm around Alfred's shoulder and flashed one of his infamous smiles that had all the ladies clinging to him. Everybody knew that he only had eyes for the Norwegian boy who seemed to hate him, though.

"Uh, yeah, sure, of course," Alfred said, fishing for the wallet from his pocket. "Here." he put on a fake smile and handed his friend a crisp twenty-dollar bill. "Have fun, but not too much fun. I'm not gonna bail you out of jail if you do anything stupid." he winked and Mathias snickered.

"Man, you're a lifesaver. Oh, and I'll try to keep out of trouble," he said before saluting in farewell. "But no guarantees."

As soon as Mathias was gone, Alfred's smile faded.

Money. That was all his 'friend' wanted.

He sighed before shifting his backpack to his other shoulder and made his way to class.

"Hey, Al! Did you do the calc homework that Zwingli assigned over the weekend?" Alfred turned around to see Gilbert catching up to him, red eyes gleaming.

"Yeah, why?" he asked, tilting his head. Hopefully Gilbert only needed help with one of the problems.

"Can I copy it?" Of course.

"I guess so," Alfred muttered dejectedly, pulling the sheet out of his backpack. He could have easily refused Gilbert, but he knew that if he said no, Gilbert would never even make an attempt to talk to Alfred. Was being ignored better or worse than being cheated off of?

"Awesome! Not as awesome as me, of course, but still awesome! God, I hate when teachers assign homework over the weekend." And before Alfred could utter another word, Gilbert disappeared down a hallway and Alfred was alone again.

Used.

For the second time in one day.

He swallowed down the lump in his throat and turned in the opposite way of where Gilbert had gone.

"Jones, where is your homework?" Mr. Zwingli, the scary Swiss calculus teacher demanded as he passed Alfred's desk. Two hours later, and Gilbert hadn't given him his homework back. Oh, he was screwed.

"I don't have it," Alfred sighed as Mr. Zwingli glared down at him.

"Sir," he added as a scowl appeared on his teacher's face.

It was said that the teacher kept several types of guns locked in his car (which just so happened to be a very large ATV). No one was stupid enough to find out if the rumor was true.

Alfred swallowed uncomfortably as many students began turning their heads to watch the scene.

"And why not, Mr. Jones?" Alfred suppressed a wince as he tried to come up with a good excuse before he had holes burned into his forehead with Mr. Zwingli's laser eyes. Sadly, he couldn't think of one.

"I forgot about it. I'm sorry; I'll have it next time. Sir." Mr. Zwingli continued to glare at Alfred for a minute with piercing green eyes before continuing down the rows for his homework check. When he was sure the teacher wasn't looking, Alfred cast a glance in Gilbert's direction, but conveniently, the other boy was busy staring at Alfred's homework and hastily copying down the answers as fast as he could before he had to explain to the math teacher why he didn't have his homework.

This time, Alfred really did wince, as he saw someone he considered to be his friend just using him and increasing the risk of getting the both of them into trouble.

And again, it wasn't the first time something like that had happened.

Alfred threw his bag down on the carpeted floor of his bedroom and flopped onto his bed, burying his face in a soft pillow. He closed his eyes, trying to forget all the earlier events of the school day.

Everyday was the same. Everyday, people would talk to him and pretend to be his friend just to get something out of him.

At first, Alfred hadn't minded, but as of late, he felt worthless. It had gone on for far too long. And he now realized that nobody wanted him for anything other than what he could give to them. Money. Homework answers. A second resort when there was no one else available. Like no one truly cared about him.

He was alone.

"Alfred, are you going to Francis's party this weekend?" Matthew, Alfred's twin brother, poked his head in Alfred's room.

Alfred looked up from his homework and put his pencil down.

"Nope, " he said, spinning around in his chair. "Wasn't invited." he propped his feet up on his desk. Another party he wasn't invited to.

"Oh," Matthew said awkwardly, not looking at his brother in the eyes. "Well, I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you came with me," he said quietly, twirling one of the strings on his hoodie around his index finger.

"No can do, little bro," Alfred winked, putting on yet another one of his fake smiles. He knew that if he showed up at the party, he wouldn't be welcomed with open arms and excited smiles. More like frowns and whispered words behind hands. "I've got a big project due next week that I need to work on." Was it right to lie?

"Oh," Matthew averted his gaze back to the floor, not sure what to say. "Well, alright." he turned and headed down the hallway, and Alfred heard the click of the door shut after a few seconds.

He let out the breath he didn't know he was holding and ran a hand through his already messy hair. Alfred had wanted to beg Matthew to stay with him, had hoped he would see through Alfred's fake happiness, his pleading eyes, answer his unspoken cry for help.

But like everyone else, Matthew was too busy worrying about his own problems to see how distraught Alfred was.

Like everyone else, he had failed to see how much Alfred needed him.

Alfred decided to text Arthur to see if he wanted to study or watch a movie while Matthew was at the party. Assuming that he was available, of course, because Arthur seemed to be the only person who ever paid any attention to Alfred nowadays. And it might give Matthew some peace of mind if Alfred had someone to hang out with.

Not literally, of course.

He shivered at the mere thought.

Monday, 8:34 PM

To: Arthur is my bff

From: Alfred

Heyyyy Artie! Wanna hang out saturday night and watch a movie or somethin?

Monday, 8:40 PM

To: Alfred

From: Arthur is my bff

Hello, Alfred. I'm sorry, but I will be attending Francis's party Saturday evening and will not be able to spend the evening with you like I do every almost weekend. Maybe you should consider going out into the outside world and making friends in your free time instead of letting your brain rot faster than a piece of fruit in the summer heat while you stare at the television screen. Have a nice night.

Alfred flinched inwardly at the harsh words that seemed to scream at him in the bright light of his cell phone. Arthur didn't mean it, did he?

Monday, 8:43 PM

To: Arthur is my bff

From: Alfred

Woooooow art thats kinda mean dont ya think? I even had to use a dictionary to look up half of those words! Nerd :P do YOU do anything in your spare time besides trying to come up with words that will confuse me? cuz youre doin a pretty bad job of it! and yes i do own a dictionary thank you very much mr oxford! Besides, i thought you hated francis?

Monday, 8:46 PM

To: Alfred

From: Arthur is my bff

I will have you know that I had to rely on the dreaded Internet in order to translate your message to English. Really, Alfred, maybe you should consider paying attention in your English class. For your information, Francis and I are not on the best of terms, but I am attending his party so that when he gets drunk and tries to flirt with Ivan, I can record the evidence and blackmail him.

P.S. The fact that you own a dictionary astounds me. In fact, I bet you took it from Matthew.

Monday, 8:50 PM

To: Arthur is my bff

From: Alfred

Are you serious? Even ivans going? NOT cooool! Im sure youre gonna get drunk first artie! ill tell mattie to make sure he gets that on tape! And "for your information," i have an A in english right now and i dont need you to help me! Good by your highness!

P.S. i most certainly did not take it from matthew! i took it from my parents bookcase, duuuuh!

Monday, 8:54

To: Alfred

From: Arthur is my bff

I honestly do not understand how you have such high grades. I assure you I will not get drunk, either, so watch yourself. Good night, Alfred.

Alfred threw his phone across the room to where it landed on a beanbag cushion next to his closet. He didn't understand Arthur. One moment, Alfred was sure the British boy liked him, but the next he was sending insults at ninety miles per hour. Alfred knew Arthur had a point. He didn't have any friends, did he?

No, Alfred thought. Arthur's always right.