A/N: So I've been thinking about doing something like this for a while now. Write an actual serious fanfiction, rather than just the oneshots and collabs and parodies that I typically do. After reading a bunch of serious dramatic ones, I got it into my head that I wanted there to be the mafia. So they're gonna show up in here. It's UsUk obviously, one of my favorite pairings. There are other pairings as well, and I tried to make the characters I've introduced so far likeable. I make no promises that you'll like what I do to the characters in future chapters, which is partly why it's rated M.

I really enjoyed writing this first chapter and I really want you all to like it as well. There's thousands of Hetalia fanfics out there, but only a few are actually truly serious and dramatic, as if they're in their own soap opera or something. I'm gonna try to write something that not only Hetalia fans can enjoy but anyone who reads it can. I want you to think of these characters as separate from Hetalia, because this might have the same names and appearances and stereotypes, but they're different people really. And like I said, you might not appreciate how I portray some characters in future chapters.

I've been planning this for a pretty long time actually, but I only got cohesive ideas a few days ago. Arthur has one giant past, Antonio isn't as carefee as he seems, Lovino has a huge secret, Ludwig's not the nicest, Feliciano might depress you, Francis is... well, he's Francis, and Alfred is caught up in the middle of it. Shit is going to go down, my friends.

Please read and enjoy! And remember, reviews are love and love is happiness!

To Make A Good First Impression

Alfred F Jones had always had one goal. Just a simple little wish, that one day, he'd go to see the stars, visit planets, chart the universe and explore the workings of the vast expanse known as space. He wanted to become an astronaut. He idolized those men that got to go to space, they became his heroes. When he was 5, it was called 'normal'. When he was 12, it was called 'cute'. When he was 18, it was called 'foolish'. And now, at 22, it was called 'nearly impossible'. But Alfred never stopped dreaming. That was what people liked about him, that astounding confidence, the belief that no matter what, he would achieve greatness. That was also what they hated. So Alfred didn't have many friends, not many people could stand with him. They'd often feel overwhelmed by his sheer personage, and they could only shrink into his shadow. The few that could stand as tall as he were intimidated, fearing to lose their positions, so they shied away. But Alfred never let this get him down.

He was what people called a prodigy in his schools. Easily aceing all his courses, he was well-liked by his fellow students, and he often had a girlfriend. However he could never get truly attached to them, and their relationship would end with as much as a 'goodbye, it was fun'. He was very involved in athletics, making it as far as state as the pitcher for the school's baseball team. He also participated in student council, and he had been elected senior class president, an amazing honor. And yet there was that presence, that powerful, incredible, confidence. And all through school, he didn't have many friends. There was Matthew, his brother. The two were twins, and Matthew was a kind, sweet, quiet boy, so quiet, in comparison with his brother, who had no problems voicing his opinions. Matthew faded in Alfred's shadow. He was smart. Not as much as Alfred. He was good at sports. Not as good as Alfred. He was well-liked. Not as popular as Alfred. He was jealous of his older twin, jealous of his personality. He loved him like only a brother could, but he was jealous. But Matthew had friends. And because of that, he would never understand the envy Alfred felt when he went off with them to movies, to town, to hang out. Alfred didn't have that.

And then came graduation. His valedictorian speech had been amazing.

"Dear fellow students," he had began. "It is my honor to stand here before you all today, chosen out of the graduating class of 739 students, 738 of which I know so well. But that's only 738. There is one person I don't know, and that is myself. I am a mystery. I have yet to determine my fate, my future. All of us are starting out on the very beginning of the road. These past 18 years were training, training for this very moment. We have an idea of who we will become, but that's not who we are. The road ahead will be rough. It will have ups and downs, highs and lows, and along the way, people will come and go. But there is one person who will be there forever, and that is yourself. Our future is bright, my friends! Continue looking forward. That's all you can do. Find yourself. Find your future. Good luck and congratulations!" He ended to thunderous applause.

As he shook the hands of his fellow alumni and former teachers, each and every one of them so proud to have known this man, this powerful man, he could only think of one thing: leaving. He had been accepted to all the college's he had applied to but there was only one he cared about. The Galileo Academy of Sciences, in Stella, Italy, was one of the most prestigious, elite colleges in the country, at least in Alfred's field. It catered to a number of various degrees, from social sciences to psychology. He entered the school with his major already in mind: Astronomy. He had always loved the stars, and in the small town in Pennsylvania where he had previously lived, you could see them very clearly at night, bright shining dots lighting up the vast expanse of darkness in an array of glowing designs. His father used to show him and Matthew constellations when they were young. Matthew wasn't very interested, and he preferred staying at home when Alfred and their father would take a trip to the hill with the telescope. But Alfred loved every second. So when he discovered he had been accepted, and that he would be able to pursue his lifelong dream, he was ecstatic.

He had arrived in Italy about a month before school began, and had found the only difficult thing about adjusting to the new environment was the language. He had taken 7 years of Spanish prior to moving to Stella, and had enrolled in a course in basic Italian before he had to leave. Fortunately, most citizens spoke either English or Spanish, and he knew enough Italian to get by. The lectures were difficult, but he had already made a good friend in his classes.

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo was the type of person you wanted to know. He was nice, so incredibly nice, almost to a fault. His dark hair and bright green eyes were a stunning combo, tall and tan, he had no shortage of ladies fawning over him. Too bad he didn't swing that way. Alfred would alway joke about how he could have a harem if he wanted one. Antonio would say that if he could have a harem, Alfred could have an army. Sadly for all the many women falling for him, he had a boyfriend, a very feisty Italian boy. Antonio always said he was 'so cute'. Alfred hadn't yet met the guy, but from what he had heard, 'so cute' was more like 'so violent'. A native Spaniard, Antonio had moved to Italy about 7 years prior to meeting Alfred. He was 23, a year older than the American, and he spoke fluent Italian and English in addition to his native language, so he translated the majority of the lessons for Alfred. And because of this, Alfred was doing extremely well in class. He had even been chosen to accompany his astronomy professor to a banquet, and though he had a difficult time understanding exactly what was going on, he charmed the other scholars with his intelligence, his curious mind, and his wide million-watt smile. Multiple times he had offered to pay the Spaniard for his services, but each time Antonio would just laugh it off, saying he didn't need to do that. After all, they were friends, right? Alfred hadn't known exactly how to respond to that.

"Tony," he had asked one day. "Why are you with me?" Antonio had given him a funny look.

"That's a bit of an odd question, amigo. Care to elaborate?"

"Well, it's just that I've never had many friends, and none quite like you."

"That's surprising! I'd think you're the kind of guy who's friends with everyone."

"I am, and that's just it. I was friends with everyone, and yet I wasn't. I think they were all too intimidated. I think… I think my confidence might've scared off any potential companions. I had a brother, but… Well, it wasn't the same."

"You do have a large personality! But that's what I like about you. You aren't afraid to share your opinions. You don't worry about what others think of you. You simply don't care, about people who want you to fail, about superficial things, about the past, about hardships, about bumps in the road, all you do is constantly stride forward, full of pride and confidence and the belief that you'll achieve something great. You sort of remind me of Lovi."

"Ah, the infamous boyfriend?"

"He's not that bad! And yes. I like that about you, though. I like to stand at your side. I like being your friend. Okay, Al?"

"Yeah. Thanks dude."

Alfred had dropped the topic after that. It made him smile to think that some people did want to be with him. He was incredibly content with his present life. With Antonio's help, he continued to do well in school, gradually he learned more and more Italian, he made a few other friends in his other classes, he liked playing baseball with them in his free time. He was glad to have finally found a place where he could be himself, where people weren't afraid of wilting in the shadow of his large blossoming presence. It was his fourth year when his teacher asked him to pick up a book from a store, and he had happily agreed, eager to be of help. If he had known how much his life would drastically change after that, I wonder if he would have still gone.

...

"Hmmmm." Alfred glances at the note in his hand and then back at the old building he was now standing in front of. It was tall, about 2 floors or so, and old, a vintage feel echoed from the old dark brown brick walls. Grayish yellow plaster filled between the bricks and gradually took the place of two pillars next to the door, holding up a second-floor balcony. It ended with a curved roof held up by four short pillars on each side, large gargoyles frozen in terrifying screams stood between them. The windows were tall and thin, dark brass fixings attaching them to the walls. The front door was a massive block of oak, beautiful rich and warm. He took one final look at the postcard before deciding this was the place he was supposed to go. He walked up the two steps, grasped the door handle, and pushed open into a sea of books. On shelves, tables, dressers, cabinets, anything really, they were stacked, shoved, shelved all over the store, almost hiding the dark green wallpaper on the walls, which went to about 3 feet above the ground, before running into the same oaken wood as the front door. As Alfred was taking this in, he failed to hear the voice coming from the back of the store, and he started when a man appeared from behind a shelf.

"Can I help you?" He repeated. The man was short, shorter than Alfred, with messy blond hair. It was lighter than his own, a soft gold the color of sunshine. His eyes were a vivid green, the kind you don't really see nowadays, the bright kind, rather than the dull grayish green that was much more common in the states. Pale skin just a few shades darker than white was met in stark contrast with the man's dark green sweater vest, which he wore over a crisp white dress shirt. Black slacks and dark shoes completed the outfit, and he looked very professional, very scholarly, very smart. He was a very handsome man, but what stood out the most to Alfred was

"EYEBROWS!" He blurted out, pointing straight at the man's forehead. They were big and black and bushy. "THATS THE BEST THING I'VE EVER SEEN!" And with that, he started laughing. Hard. The harder and longer he laughed, the more annoyed the man grew. His face was turning a very vivid shade of red, in embarrassment and anger. The man stormed over to Alfred, and before he can do anything, has whacked him over the head with a very heavy very blunt object. "OOOOWWWWWW!" Alfred wails, clutching his injured scalp, feeling the inevitable knot beginning to form. "What was that for!" He cries, turning to see the man holding a copy of a large hardback book with a graying cover. "Watership Down." He squinted to see the faded words on the cover. The man looks at the book. He hesitates a moment, before responding.

"Yes. It's one of my favorite novels. And don't make fun of my eyebrows!"

"I didn't want to hurt your feelings."

"Well then you miserably failed. Luckily you aren't the first to say that." The man sighs and leans back against the bookshelf behind him. "Now can I help you find something?"

"Oh yeah, I'm here to pick up a book for Professor Rome?"

"Ah yes! On the Revolutions of the Celestial Spheres by Copernicus, am I right?"

"That's the one!"

"Alright. Follow me then." He starts to wind through the mazes of shelves.

"This place is a mess! Don't you ever clean it?" He says, lagging behind. When he looks up, he notices the man has disappeared. "Hey, wait, ...you." He trails off, not knowing the name of the store owner. The man reappears from behind a shelf.

"Arthur."

"Huh?"

"My name. It's Arthur. Not 'you'. Arthur Kirkland."

"Oh. Well nice to meet you Arthur! I'm Alfred. Alfred F Jones."

"Oh. A statesman."

"Yup! And proud of it, my friend!"

"I'm not your friend. We just met."

"Does that really matter?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Well then. You should really clean up around here." He says, changing the subject. "Stuff's practically falling off of the shelves, which look like they'll fall down any minute."

"Oh please! These are perfectly stable!" To prove his point, Arthur moves to the nearest hardwood bookshelf and shoves it. Hard.

"Hey don't do that!"

"As I said, they are perfectly-" he breaks off as there's a loud rumbling noise. Apparently, shoving the bookcase was not a good idea. And back and forth it goes, books falling and scattering on the floor, quite a few hitting Arthur on the way down. Alfred is momentarily stunned, but he's shaken out of his stupor when the bookcase finally decides to fall one way- and that way is directly onto Arthur. Arthur, still covering his head from the falling books is paying no attention to it, so now, well, Alfred doesn't have much choice.

"Arthur!" He yells, darting towards him, as the Brit finally looks up and notices his peril- just as Alfred shoves into him, pulling him off his feet, but away from the bookshelf. There's a loud THUD almost instantly followed by a CRASH and a cloud of dust rises from the floor, causing the two men to cough. As the dust clears, Alfred breathes a sigh of relief.

"Get off me, you git!" Arthur indignantly snaps, glaring at the American who is now just mere inches from his face, his legs straddling the Brit. Alfred turns back to look at Arthur and throws him a penetrating glare as he stands, hands placed on his hips, anger reflected in his soft blue eyes.

"Don't yell at me!" He responds. "I just saved you from a nasty concussion, the least you could do is thank me!"

"I only say it when I'm actually thankful!" Arthur says.

"Oh? Well you should be!"

"I didn't ask for any help!"

"I'm not just gonna let you get crushed!"

"It's not that heavy!"

"Looks pretty heavy to me!" Arthur doesn't have a response to that, and, having run out of steam, just sighs and looks away, glaring into the space to the right of Alfred. Realizing that yelling at the Britishman won't get him anywhere, Alfred groans in frustration, before bending back down and holding out his hand. Arthur just huffs and looks further away. "C'mon, don't be like that." He turns his head away again. "Look, you'll break your neck if you keep doing that. Look, I'll even apologize. So sorry for saving your life." Arthur growls at that statement, but accepts the hand, rising to his feet as well. He walks away. "Hey, where are you going!" Alfred cries, but doesn't follow him, instead opting to just shove his hands in his pockets and pout. However, Arthur reappears a few seconds later, holding a small book bound in a rich crimson color. He walks over and holds it out to Alfred. "What's this?" Arthur smirks.

"Did you forget what you came here for already? My, my, that's Americans for you."

"Hey! I resent that!" He takes the book. It's old, the pages are yellowed, but it's still in good condition. It was obviously well taken care of. Now that I think about it, they all are. Alfred observes the store. At first glance it looks crowded and messy. However, each book is stacked just so, nothing is crammed onto the shelves, bookends hold up the upright books, each one of those spine down, so the pages won't catch dust from the shelf. Each of the books were probably loved by their owner, at least until he sold them or lent them to another. It's a shame, he thinks as he looks at the crashed bookshelf and the young man bending over them, painstakingly dusting each book off, carefully picking through it, checking for any rips or folds. He sighs as he realizes some of them will have to be thrown away, and Arthur begins to gather those very ones. Alfred can't help but give a small grin at the man, and he leans down next to him, picking up a book as well. If Arthur noticed, he gave no sign. Instead the two quietly work next to each other, gathering and inspecting each and every one that had fallen. Luckily, very few had to be discarded, those being the ones whose spines were snapped or pages torn in half. Finally, Arthur asks him.

"What are you doing?" Alfred gives him a funny look.

"What does it look like? Helping you."

"I didn't ask for help."

"Yeah I noticed you don't really do that."

"Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why are you helping me, me who you have just met, who has been nothing but rude to you, who can't even say thank you properly, why are you helping me?"

"Well... That's just the kind of person I am." He gives Arthur a quick grin.

"Then you can help by sorting these." He lands a huge stack of novels right in front of him. "Alphabetical order."

"It's a ton! You'd better pay me!"

"I thought you said this was the kind of person you are. How sad. Guess you're not a man of your word."

"Why, you... You planned this!" Alfred protests, but he takes the books anyway. "I thought British people were supposed to be gentlemen."

"We are. Just not to men."

"And why is that?"

"We'd rather get in girl's pants."

"Dude. Tmi."

"Tmi?"

"It means 'too much information'."

"Then just say that! Honestly, you Americans and your ridiculous acronyms."

"Well excuuuuuse me."

"You're excused."

"I was being sarcastic."

"I know."

"Ass."

"Wanker."

"Wanker?" Arthur snickers.

"Shall I tell you what it means?"

"Judging from the look on your face, I'm not sure I wanna know. So no thanks."

"Suit yourself."

"So you run a bookstore?"

"No, I work at a stripper bar as an escort."

"Whoa man, hardcore!"

"I was joking."

"Oh."

"Yes, I own this store."

"Own all of this? Wow."

"It was my dad's before mine. It was closed for a few years, while I was... Exploring different occupations."

"So you really were a stripper."

"What? No! And I don't need to tell you!"

"Aw, c'mon, please Artie?"

"It's Arthur, and I said no."

"Fine. Where do you live?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because I'm a stalker and I want to secretly rape and kill you in your sleep." Arthur scoffs.

"As if you could ever do something as heinous as that. Above the shop, on the second floor."

"Ah, cool."

"What about you?"

"I'm in college here."

"Oh? What university?"

"Galileo."

"Really? I'm impressed! That's a difficult school. The people there are very kind though. So Rome's back at Galileo now?"

"Yeah. Was he somewhere before?"

"There was an... Incident. It caused him to stop teaching for a few years, but I'm glad he's back."

"Incident?"

"It's not good to pry, Alfred."

"Sorry. I'm done." He adds, standing up from the stack of books he just ordered.

"Perfect. So am I." Arthur stands as well and turns to the bookcase. He sighs. "Now I have to stand this up."

"You mean 'we'. I'll help you. I may not look it, but I'm pretty strong!"

"Oh trust me, you look it, alright."

"Really? Thanks, man!" Alfred smacks Arthur on the back, almost knocking him back down. He stumbles, catching himself at the last minute. "Whoops. Sorry. Guess I don't know my own strength." Arthur rubs his back sorely, but just shrugs it off.

"It's fine. You get left, I'll get right." Alfred nods. They move to their respective sides. "On three, ready?" They lean down and grip the shelf. "One..."

"Two..."

"Three!" They say together, and each pull. It's a struggle. The shelf is solid wood, and quite heavy. It's not exactly the smoothest either, and as they both lift it up, Alfred curses under his breath.

"Shit!" Arthur glances at him.

"You okay?"

"What? Yeah, yeah, fine." Arthur gives him a suspicious look but goes back to pushing. Their muscles are bulging, faces strained, but they manage to prop it upright again. Panting, Arthur kneels, hands on his knees.

"I'm too old for this." He mutters. Alfred hears him.

"How old?"

"Don't you know it's not polite to ask someone their age?"

"That's girls." Arthur sighs.

"27."

"That's not that old!"

"Older than you, Mr. College student.

"Just 5 years."

"That's quite a bit. Now then, let me see it."

"See what?" Alfred asks innocently.

"Your hand, you idiot. I heard you curse; you cut yourself, didn't you?"

"No!"

"Alfred, let me see." Huffing, Alfred holds out his left hand, pouting like a child that had to give their parents the candy they had snuck. "Well, you didn't cut it." Arthur says, inspecting it. In the middle of Alfred's palm is a long jagged splinter digging into the soft white flesh. Blood is forming around the tip of the entrance. "Follow me. I have some medical supplies upstairs"

"Inviting me to your room, are we? Someone moves quickly." Arthur smacks his head.

"It's not like that!" He snaps. "It's my fault, so I'll help you clean it off. Now come on." Alfred smirks as he follows Arthur to the back and up the stairs. They're tall and steep, closed into one small corner. Arthur opens the door to the second floor and light floods the thin stairwell. He enters into a simple room with a long lush couch situated in front of a large tv. A coffee table with a half-empty cup of cold tea sits out on it. Pictures line the walls of the living room, and as Arthur disappears into the kitchen to retrieve the antiseptic and tweezers, Alfred wanders over to them. In the first, Arthur is very small and is holding up a sheet of paper that says 'Hawthorne Elememtary Spelling Bee Winner Arthur Kirkland'. Alfred smiles at that one. In the next, Arthur is a little older now, and he's standing solemnly next to a gravestone. Wincing, he moves to the third. Arthur is frozen in place with a wide grin on his face, his arm slung around another man's shoulder. The other man has blond hair as well, it's shoulder-length and light, a fair bit of stubble on his chin. They are both holding diplomas and wearing fancy uniforms.

"Aren't those..." Alfred starts as Arthur walks back into the room. He notices what Alfred is looking at and stiffens, before grabbing his wrist and pulling him away from the photos. "Hey!" He protests.

"It's not polite to pry. Now then, let me take this out." He pulls up Alfred's left hand and places the antiseptic down, picking up the tweezers. Alfred eyes widen in horror.

"No!" He wails. "I don't like pain!"

"No one does! Now shut up!" Alfred continues to a whimper and let's out a shriek of pain as Arthur takes hold of the splinter and pulls. The long jagged spike easily slides out, and a swirl of crimson takes it's place. "See? It wasn't that bad." As Alfred sighs in relief, he trickles antiseptic onto the wound. He howls.

"Hey that hurts!"

"Oh hush! It's killing the bacteria so you won't get an infection! It's good in the long run!"

"I don't like this!"

"Most people don't! At least you're not a masochist!" Arthur snaps as he dabs at the cut before wrapping in clean white gauze. "It's in an awkward place," he explains. "So a bandaid wouldn't stay well. When you take a shower, be careful and gentle and change the gauze afterward."

"You certainly know what you're doing."

"It's not that much of an oddity. You need to know how to take care of yourself."

"True that." Alfred glances out the window. "Aw shit! Is it that late?" He says. The sky is darkening, bright red and gold decorating the expanse. "I need to get back before they close the dorms!" Arthur follows him down the stairs. Alfred grabs his jacket from the knob at the front as Arthur picks up the same book he hs been holding when Alfred had entered. He also grabs Copernicus' On the Revolutions of the Celestial Spheres and holds it out to him. Alfred smiles as he takes it, also grabbing the other one.

"Hey!" Arthur cries.

"Dude relax! You said it was good, right? Watership Down? I'll read it and bring it back."

"You really want to?"

"Yup!" As Alfred turns back, he sees Arthur's face illuminated by a smile. "You finally smiled!" He cries happily. "You should do it more often. You look good." Arthur blushes.

"Sh-shut up!" Alfred laughs, waving over his shoulder as he walks down the road. He's about to turn the corner, when Arthur yells "Wait!" He turns.

"Yes?"

"Th-thank you. For earlier, with the bookcase. Thank you." A wide grin stretches across his face.

"You are very welcome."

So that's the first chapter. What did you guys think? Did I do okay? Was it serious enough? I tried to add some humor too, and the drama hasn't really started yet. They've only had their first encounter, which was a bit hectic, but still it seemed nice to me. I thought I did a pretty decent job for being serious and all.

Watership Down, for those of you who don't know, is a novel by Richard Adams about a warren of rabbits, specifically Hazel. It's an incredible novel, although a bit long, and I'd recommend it to everybody. The characters are loveable, the plot is original, and who doesn't love bunnies? So that's my personal connection with the story. Richard Adams is even British. Even better.

On the Revolutions of the Celestial Spheres is a book by Copernicus on the solar system and how it's heliocentric. When he first wrote and published it, he was constantly persecuted by people who believed that our solar system was geocentric. He wound up dying in a town in Poland with no family or legacy to leave behind besides this book. I haven't read it, but we talked about it in my world history class and I thought it suited this.

I really hope you all enjoyed the first chapter! If you have any questions, feel free to ask!

Reviews are love :) And love is happiness :D