A/N: This is my first attempt at making a sad story. Sorry if it's cheesy, out of character, or just plain out stupid. It was a first attempt okay?

Arthur sighed as his enthusiastic American "friend" dragged him through the airport. They were supposed to be going to Japan to see their old friend Kiku. Despite having enough money for two third class tickets for an airplane, Alfred had insisted they fly in his personal plane. He owned a red biplane that he built by himself. It was a standard sized one with two seats as usual.

Alfred had trained for two years in order to finally fly his homemade plane, and he flew it whenever he could. Alfred had miraculously convinced Arthur to use his plane and fly all the way there. The plan was simple, fly across the Atlantic Ocean, take a quick pit-stop in Africa, and then fly the rest of the way to Japan. If all went well they would arrive within 3 days.

Alfred's biplane was located in the far end of the airport. He had somehow convinced the authorities to allow him to take off on one of the landing strips in the port. All the drive there Arthur had been nervous. It wasn't that he doubted his friend's flying abilities, he was one of the most skilled pilots he knew, he was really doubting the plane itself.

It was built centuries ago and had to be repaired often. But Alfred was smart and took good care of his planes. Thanks to not flying it too much, it's engine was also in great condition. But Arthur still felt extremely uneasy about it all, and just hoped that the fly there would be as easy as he had been told.

They strolled down the flight strip, slowly making their way to the garage where his plane was behind held. A couple of workers were slowly pulling it out and placing it at the end so they could take off. Alfred quickly thanked them, slipped them a couple of dollars, then went off to put on his flight gear. Arthur just nodded and sat on the curb, waiting for his friend to come back so they could get this all over with. He kept eying the plane, taking the time to look at it more thoroughly. It only made him more paranoid though. "I'm going to die today..." he mumbled sarcastically to himself. The last thing he wanted to do was to truly think that. Unfortunately for him, it was true.

Alfred strolled back around the corner and waved to get the Brit's attention. Arthur snapped back to reality and stared up at the American. He was wearing a leather cap with a pair of goggles on his head. He flashed a smile before tossing a pair of goggles at Arthur, who clumsily caught them and stood up.

He slipped them on before following Alfred over to the plane. He was conversing with a couple of workers, who he had to assure that he could fly the plane. It seems like they certificates stating that he could in the first place weren't good enough.

After a couple of minutes they finally managed to get themselves into the plane and the runway was cleared. The two buckled up and waited for the verification to take flight. While they waited Alfred started a bit of small talk between the two, but it usually ended with an awkward silence. Moments later they got the O.K. and Alfred started up the plane, with a bit of help from a couple of workers who had to turn the propellers to get them working.

Alfred gave a quick thumbs up and flashed a smile over his shoulder to Arthur before they started moving. The gentleman started to grip the seat tight, white knuckled and really nervous. It's not that this was his first plane trip, he had been on many before in order to go to world meetings and such. But he'd never flown in a biplane, better yet in any plane being steered by his so called friend.

As the plane maneuvered across the strip, Arthur started praying that they would just take off and have a smooth flight, rather than slipping off the runway with the plane flipping in the process, or crashing into any solid objects. Thankfully his prayers were answered and they took flight. Alfred cheered as they started to fly into the sky, laughing his head off like a child in a chocolate factory. Arthur smiled, whenever he saw him like this he always looked back at the good ol' days, when they were still one big happy family.

Though, he wouldn't really consider the Frenchman a family member, he did raise Alfred's brother. But then... he would always remember how their family was slowly torn apart. When he was younger, yes they did get along a lot better. They argued every once in awhile but it was over small affairs and those never really seemed to stick in his memory. But once he got older and older, he became more and more troublesome. The arguments started happening more often, they lasted longer, and were a lot louder. Some even turned violent.

Eventually Alfred couldn't take it much more, so after much debating and a couple more scream matches, he was finally out of the house. They didn't talk for a very long time after that, and whenever they saw each other it's because they just so happened to be invited to the same place at the same time. But neither of them could hold grudges for too long, especially at each other, so they eventually gave up on trying to master the silent treatment and became somewhat of friends.

Arthur snapped back to reality when the ground was almost gone and the people looked smaller than ants. He winced and pulled the goggles over his eyes, forgetting to actually do so before they left, rather keeping them on his forehead. The flight was silent for a while, only the sound of the engine was heard with the help of the wings cutting air.

That's when Arthur finally realized how tired he really was.

His eyelids were drooping as he fought to stay awake. The previous night he had gotten little to no sleep. He was busy packing away everything they would need for the trip. Everything from clothes to rations. He slept for about five hours max, and had stayed awake through the hour long ride to the airport, since he had driven them there in the first place.

He decided it wouldn't be too bad if he fell to sleep in the plane... right? If anything, he'll tell Alfred so he's aware and then doze off. If anything he'll be woken up once they land in Africa and will be able to do anything he'll need to do. Arthur leaned forward and tapped his friend on the shoulder. "Hey, Al. I'm going to take a quick nap. Wake me when we land in Africa, okay?" He hoped he spoke loud enough for the other to hear. Alfred looked over his shoulder, nodded, then turned back to the front of the plane. Relieved, he leaned back in his seat. His eyelids closed on their own and he fell asleep seconds later.

Arthur found himself being shaken awake, he shook his head and opened his eyes.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw the terrified face of his friend/brother/son. "Al? What's wrong?" Alfred was shaking and his eyes were full of terror. "T-the engine is failing! I'm coasting right now but if it goes out, we might stall."

Arthur wasn't all too sure about all of the fancy flight phrases and what not. But he knew that you almost never want to stall a plane. It took him a moment before he noticed the small streams of smoke coming out of the propeller and soaring high into the sky. His eyes widened as his friend pulled back on the yoke, trying to put the front of the plane up as it slowly started tipping downwards.

Arthur felt helpless, completely unsure of what to do, how to help. When there was a loud explosion, sparks flew from the front of the plane and Alfred shielded his eyes with his leather glove. The engine itself was falling apart. A propeller even flew backwards, nearly decapitating the pilot and just barely missing Arthur's ear.

Now smoke was seeping out of the plane, creating a cloud that covered their view and the night sky. When the plane starting dipping again, they shot through the screen at incredible speeds and were now heading straight down. Alfred tried to pull on the yoke again, harder this time, in a desperate attempt to save their lives. It didn't work.

The next series of events is quite a blur to Arthur. Giving up on the yoke, Alfred reached under the panel and pulled out a backpack. It was a parachute. The only parachute. Figuring they wouldn't of needed the other one, it was tossed to the side in order to fill up on rations just in case something happened at their pit-stop and they were forced to wait a couple of days. Now regretting that decision, Alfred struggled to turn around and put the backpack on his friend.

"What are you doing?!" Arthur asked, yelling over the sound of popping bolts and burning wires. "Saving your life!" Alfred replied back, strapping the parachute firmly onto the Brit. He then pointed to a rope on the side. "Pull this the moment you are away from the plane." He then grabbed for the seat belt next to his friend. Arthur grabbed his wrist, stopping him. "Are you mad?! If I fly out of the plane you won't have any ways of getting out!"

Alfred looked to the side. "I know..." he mumbled before turning back to his friend, a determined look on his face. "But if it means you'll survive than that's all that matters!" Arthur still refused to loosen his grip, a couple of tears forming at the rims of his eyes. Alfred pulled his hand up in a tight fist and stared into his eyes. "I'll finally be able to be a hero."

With that he quickly unbuckled Arthur, who slipped out of the plane with ease and was now free falling a couple hundred meters above the ground. He fumbled with the strap attached to the bag before firmly grasping it and pulling on it as quickly as he could. The parachute ejected from the pack and he found himself slowly floating down towards ground, which gave him enough time to watch the plane crash into the ground, erupting into flames that spread in the dry grass.

The tears that he had been holding back broke through the barriers and started rolling down his face. First one, then two, and then a whole group as they streamed down his cheeks and to his jawline. It wasn't often that he cried, he usually wanted to keep his composure and never show weakness in front of others. But this time he didn't care. He didn't care if anyone happened to look up at see his eyes puffy and his face wet. He didn't care if the whole world made fun of him because of it. He needed to cry. and that's what he did.

The flames were quickly drenched in water. Apparently they had crashed near a large lake with a populated village. When the villagers saw the smoke, they rushed off and investigated. When they saw the growing fire, they all became terrified and rushed to douse it. It wasn't long after that they found Arthur crying under one of few trees in the area. They asked him what was wrong, but he didn't speak their native tongue. Luckily they had a translator in the area, who was able to tell each side what was going on.

But it didn't matter to him. That day, someone he loved and cherished died. Died saving him. Something he wished hadn't happened. Something that when he looks back at, he regrets. Being such a fool, he should of just persuaded his friend otherwise. He should've just bought those two plane tickets. He should've brought that extra parachute. He should've stayed awake and watched out for danger. But he didn't. And now he's gone.

Extended Ending:

The service was long. Men and woman dressed in black, friends and family members along with a couple of greedy jerks that had only come for the food sat in a single room, giving speeches on how great Alfred once was. Francis and Arthur sat in a booth near the front, Matthew to their side and Kiku behind them. They tried their best not to cry, but it was an obvious struggle. Eventually Kiku started crying silent tears as everyone tried not to.

Once the ceremony was over, the four were able to walk up to the coffin and look at the body. Some how, some miracle had caused it so Alfred's body was saved from the devastating fire. Upon landing, the plane had flipped and slid across the savannah. Alfred, who had been crouching low with his knees to his chest, had been stuck between the ground and the burning plane. He had died from suffocation.

Arthur looked down at the body, a bit shocked at what he saw. Alfred was smiling. Not frowning, not grinning, not even smirking. But smiling. He seemed to be the only one that noticed, but seeing that smile one last time made him so happy.

Later, at the feast that was being hosted in the hero's honor, not so friendly words were being exchanged between two men in the back. "He was a fool." One said. "Saving that Brit's life was a waste of his own. Eyebrows should of died in that fire, not him!" The other nodded in agreement, taking a sip from his alcohol of which Arthur couldn't classify before adding to that. "I'm glad that buffoon is gone. He was going to die sooner or later. Might as well of been from his own stupidity." Arthur's hands turned to fists and his knuckles became white. He had promised Kiku that he wouldn't lash out at anyone while they were there, it was supposed to be a time of peace. But he was slowly regretting that promise.

He waltzed over to the two men and cleared his throat, trying to be as much of a gentleman as he could muster. "Well at least he died doing what he loved." Arthur looked down a bit, a small but sad smile forming on his face. "He died being a hero."

A/N: Hoped you guys liked it. Took me a bit of time to write but I think it turned out pretty good. Suggestions would be nice. Please? e_e

Sorry if any of the things about flight are messed up. I'm in 7th grade Science Technology and we were going over flight for a couple of months. I decided to try my luck with the limited information I know and stage a plane crash. Close enuf?