Author's Note: I'll be writing this story alongside "Little Bird", so it's not like I'm just stopping the story to write this. For now, the content is rated T, but there will be chapters will the M will definitely be used. Just a heads up. :)

Chapter Song: "The A-Team" by Ed Sheeran (also the inspiration for this story)

The crisp December air grasped cruelly at the streets of New York City, forcing the city-dwellers under it's harsh wintery wake. The unblinking, forlorn faces of the individuals that huddled together in the cold were never memorable, and seemed invisible to the others around them...though they were very much the same.

However, one face seemed different from the usual crowds that flooded the upper-class tailored streets: Arthur Kirkland. He was shivering against a brick wall, clutching the too-thin coat around his shoulders, trying to fight a possible case of hypothermia. His trembling and blueing fingers gripped lightly at the bucket sitting next to him, trying to have a half-decent grip on it's rim.

Once again, the day had been unsuccessful, only a measly five dollars and twenty five cents were earned, no...more like given to him, from sitting on the disgusting concrete ground and groveling like a beggar. It was a pitiful state, but he couldn't help it...his options were limited. However, due to today's disappointing turnout, he'd have to head back to his apartment and get ready to go to the Underbog later that evening.

Arthur hated the Underbog with a burning passion. However, despite the wickedness and lack of decency, it was also the location of his secret second job. The blond wished that he could just abandon his position there, but he'd have no money and eventually starve himself to death. Looking down to his slightly raised palm, he noticed the gleaming of insufficient sunlight against the ring on his third finger. Perhaps if he were to pawn the object, then he would do alright for a little while...not that he would ever find the strength and heart to do such a task. The band on his finger served as a reminder as to why he was out here, suffering from hardship and loneliness on the harsh New York City streets and slums; why he was having to rely on soup kitchens for a constant resource of food and why he had to sell his own body during the night hours to pay the damned rent and keep him living. Arthur knew that if his former-fiancé had seen him like this, wretched and weak, he knew damn well that he would regret breaking his heart and kicking him out like a rat that had invaded a restaurant.

Left only with sunken eyes, gaunt limbs, and hollowed cheekbones; along with the scars that littered him internally and externally, Arthur felt like a ragged scrap of a human. There was nothing good, physically or socially good about him anymore...and it had grown into an outrageous self-consciousness and bad self-esteem. His brain would remind him that there were individuals on the famous streets, looking down at him in pity and disgust at his less to be desired features: stringy and messy pale ash blond hair, and a pair of paled green eyes that had lost the life within them months ago. Along with several cartilage ear piercings, there was nothing interesting about the man. To most, he just looked like another sorry bum whose's life had taken a turn for the worst.

Some gracious individuals had felt sorry for him, and gave away part of their on-hand cash to him, while others simply laughed at his worthless existence that had begun only three months ago.

A shadow had fallen on him, and his reprogrammed brain forced his hand raise the small pail and hope that a person would be kind enough to help him. He thanked the individuals who did, and told them that God would bless he or she...not that he actually believed in God anymore. However, this time, before his fingers could twitch to life and raise his little bucket, a voice broke through the quiet air present in the streets.

"Arthur? Is that you?"

Raising his head, his green orbs met blue eyes and slicked back blond hair. He managed a small smile onto his lips. It was Ludwig, an old friend of his. The two had been friends as children and worked together in their teenage jobs. Every so often, Arthur would receive a call from the man, and the two would talk about childhood memories and their wishes to return to those years...hoping that they weren't simply been looking at life through rose-colored glass.

Standing to greet his friend, Arthur dipped his head slightly and grinned, "You look well, Ludwig."

The taller man replied, "It's good to see you, Arthur. Unfortunately, I'd be lying if I said that you looked well..." He scratched behind the shell of his ear, most likely hoping he hadn't been too rude to the man. However, that was Ludwig for you, ever so honest.

The smaller blond chuckled half-heartedly, "I know. I must look like such a wreck."

Ludwig only replied a small grunt, and reached into his coat pocket for a small carton of cigarettes. Opening it, he pulled out a pair and offered one to Arthur. The smaller man immediately claimed it, and stuck it in his lips, to which Ludwig lit it for him. The two old friends had their backs to the bricks, and enjoyed a couple long drags from their cigarettes before they began to converse once again. Ludwig had explained that Arthur looked like a cigarette was what he needed.

Then, the man asked, "How's Alfred? Are the two of you married yet?"

Feeling his spine freeze at the question, Arthur only managed to reply with a barely-audible whisper, "He left me."

Ludwig's mouth dropped open slightly, and he answered, his voice filled with disbelief, "He left you? But the two of you were together for three years!"

Arthur snarled, the words like venom on his tongue, "One of those years were spent with some other man behind my back." Releasing a harsh drag of cigarette smoke out of anger, he choked slightly on it and hissed at the stupid action.

His friend gave him a pitiful glance, "Tut mir leid, Arthur. You're better than he'll ever be."

Arthur growled, "Well, I certainly don't feel like it."

Despite the pessimistic claim, Ludwig replied, "At least you still have some sense though. You look somewhat healthy." When the smaller man didn't answer him, he raised and eyebrow and asked, "You are staying healthy, right?"

In all honesty, Arthur Kirkland was probably pretty far from healthy. Not only was he relying on his food from a soup kitchen, he had picked up a nasty drug habit and it was rare not to see him at the pubs in the early hours in the morning. On top of all that, with all the sex (most of it unprotected, and his boss's checkings with the clients were pretty shady) that he had been partaking in, it was more than likely that he had already been inflicted with some kind of sexually transmitted disease. However, should he suffer from a health problem, there was nothing to make him fight and continue to live.

He'd already lost everything that was dear to him: his job, his love, his home, and his hope. All he had left was a somewhat cheap apartment (about as cheap as an apartment in New York City could get) that was owned by his drunken older brother, Alleric. Well, he owned it...but he never actually paid for it. His older brother barely ever came home, due to all the bar-hopping he went on with his drinking friends, who usually let him stay over at one of their places. The drinking nights had become so frequent that Arthur had to begin paying the weekly rent. Since the pay was so expensive, having much more money left over was quite seldom for Arthur...and it would all be pooled into drinking and drugs. Arthur had tried gambling before, but all it had earned him was a three hundred and fifty dollar debt and a harsh beating from Alleric, who had to skip a few days of drinking in order to help his idiotic brother pay it all back, who had to endure four rounds of harsh sex in one night. If, by any luck, he did have some cash left...Arthur would put it towards getting a cheap new garment or having a better meal that just soup-kitchen food.

He said after a minute, "I'm as healthy as I can be."

Ludwig smiled a little, "That's good." His blue eyes dropped to the bucket present by the Brit's foot, and asked with a concerned frown on his face, "Don't tell me that you're living on the streets."

Arthur shook his head, "I have an apartment."

"The money's for support then?" It was a little scary to him that Arthur was succumbing to mere beggary in order to keep his life steady.

"I don't have a job, and I'm desperate for money, Ludwig."

"You could have asked for my help, Arthur. If I had known that you were living this way, I would have helped you sooner."

"You know I can't ask you to take me in, Ludwig. I'd be a freeloader...and I don't want to anchor down your happy life." The man managed a small smile, "You've got Feliciano to take care of, and if you showed up with someone like me..."

Ludwig sighed, returning a sad smile, "...he'd cry. I know." He then said, "But, please know...if you ever need anything, anything at all, you can come to the two of us."

Arthur nodded, "Thanks, old friend. I appreciate your concern."

Flicking the cigarette away, the German nodded, "You're welcome. Take care of yourself." Ludwig then turned, and headed back down the bleak streets, soon fading away into the forgettable New York faces. Once he was gone, Arthur nearly sank back down to his knees onto the cold stone. He wanted to so badly chase after Ludwig and accept the offer he had given him, but he'd be so selfish. But, he'd make his and Feliciano's life gloomier, and there would be no way to explain why he was out so late. He was already far too addicted to the alcohol and drugs, and he couldn't just walk out on his job at the Underbog. Any form of moderation had faded away by the end of the first month of his new life.

After another unsuccessful hour, he stood back up and buried the cash in his pocket. He'd have to either make much more tomorrow, or he'd have to work for longer hours at night. Taking the park route to get home, Arthur looked to the frost stained trees and the small sparrows that roosted comfortably without hesitation in their snow-filled nests. He envied them, they were made to endure the outdoors...even in the winter. Humans were not created to do so, and his sorry self had been sitting out in the cold ever since September. Now, it was December, the month that was supposed to be about holidays spent with family and friends. He nearly chuckled to himself at the irony, that he was like this during the "happiest time of the year". Arthur couldn't help but wonder if he would be doing the same thing during New Years.

Lost in thought, he nearly walked by a performer who was unknowingly charming a couple girls with his song...probably because he was playing it on a violin, instead of the typical guitar. Arthur strode up to listen, and as soon as he stopped near the man, the girls each dropped him five dollars into his hat and tossed him some compliments, before heading on their merry way.

From what Arthur could tell, the man was singing about missing his chance at winning the heart of the girl he loved, and now being left alone to rot in his mistake. The song was something to roll one's eye to, in Arthur's opinion.

Once the brown-haired man had finished playing, he gave a small smile to the blond, "Care to help a heartbroken man out?"

Arthur raised one of his eyebrows, and harshly laughed at him, "You call that heartbreak? I was dumped three months ago and kicked out of my home. That whiny song you sing is just foolish, you've never experienced heartbreak."

The man hissed, "Well, I live by the principle 'it's better to have lost love than to have never loved before'."

Arthur leaned down, meeting the eye-level of the man, who bore an obvious Austrian accent, "Try having found out that your love cheated on you with a wicked man, kicked you out onto the street, got fired from your job, begging during the day, selling your body at the Underbog at night...being cold and hungry for three months all while wishing your love would come back to you. That's the heartbreak I'm going through now. True story, damned git."

The man looked up at Arthur, clearly confused, "The...Underbog?"

He smirked, "I knew it. You speak that you're a poor bloke, but the blood running through your veins is blue. You know nothing of the hardships of a lower class citizen. You know nothing of heartbreak. You know nothing of true pain." He added bitterly, "Hell, you know nothing at all, do you?" He stood back up, glaring down at the violin-player.

The man protested, "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."

Arthur snapped, "Whatever." He turned and stomped away, heading back towards the apartment, feeling somewhat regretful for his outburst, but at the same time not caring at all.

Thanks for Reading~! Let me know what you think! :)