Title : Forever & Always

Full Summary: Fate finds it amusing to twist lives. It forced them to meet and break apart in pieces. Feelings were sacrificed for love. Feelings were sacrificed for souls. They never meant it to happen. They don't want to sacrifice anything; even their own feelings despite how it was an obligation. It hurts badly because one of them has to make a choice in the end even if it means to close his heart forever.

Main pair(s) : US/UK [Alfred/Arthur]

Minor pair(s) : France/Canada [Francis/Matthew], Germany/Italy [Ludwig/Feliciano], Spain/Romano [Antonio/Lovino], Russia/China [Ivan/Yao], Greece/Japan [Heracles/Kiku]

Prologue

The soft morning breeze caressed his sandy hair softly, ruffling a few strands of hair. He quietly muttered a curse and stretched himself. This was not the kind of weather in which the writer usually woke up early. Arthur Kirkland would normally awaken around ten or if he had decided to sleep in; twelve.

The sky was tinged a dim grey; the golden sun not yet visible. The author sighed in a depressed manner and proceeded to lean on the pearl window, staring upwards. Arthur hated this kind of weather because it reminded him of his dreary past. Ugly grey lines began to form into jumbled shapes and patterns, meaning that he was unable to create a clear view of the sky. He remembered being a young boy; staring at the same grey sky, only bathed in blood.

His past didn't start very well. Arthur was raised by a single mother who was first a widow and then the wife of an abusive husband. Every minute of his childhood was a nightmare. Every time he went home he would find his mother forced into a violent bondage session of love making. When he went home while his mother was away he'd find himself accumulating a multitude of burns and bruises on his arms and legs as a result of being whipped with belts. He had once tried to stop the abusive bastard—Arthur's preferred name for him—from hurting his already bleeding mother. However, he had ended up being thrown into a wall. All he could do was whimper slightly and crawl away.

The Briton had become sick of the pains that were caused by the bastard. He'd had enough of his mother's painful moans and screams every time he passed a room. Thankfully, it all ended in a night.

The Englishman could still feel the stinging heat of the fire, the stickiness of the wet crimson liquid on his cheeks, and he could still picture the view of his burnt house at night. His blank green orbs stared at the closed white gothic door, whilst his mother lay on the floor and pushed him outside.

Arthur shivered at the memory. His mother's hand was absolutely freezing when it touched his shoulder. The touch pierced through his skin like knives and the feeling crept through all his veins like fire. The feeling wasn't pleasant. In fact, it scared him to death.

Shrugging off the memory, Arthur walked away from the window and headed towards the bathroom. He should be getting ready to go to the company now. They're probably waiting for his next manuscript.

Michelle ran through the navy blue cubicles, looking for Estevan. Said man was sleeping on his personified desk with stacks of manuscripts. The Seychellois girl shook her head and chuckled. Every time she arrived at the cubicle, she'd find either a sleeping person or spilled coffee on the desk. Michelle tip-toed towards the Cuban with a big, evil smirk lacing her lips. In a swift movement she placed her tiny hands on Estevan's shoulder with great force, startling the Cuban and causing him to curse in his native tongue.

The little girl laughed as she placed a cup of coffee on the mahogany desk, while the older male gave her an exhausted glare. "Michelle!" The Seychellois girl giggled, forming a peace sign with her fingers. "How many times have I told you about your wakeup call?" The Cuban pointed his index finger towards the younger woman and said woman only giggled louder in response.

"Okay, okay," Estevan huffed, scratching his messy auburn hair. The manuscript reader shuffled through his stacks of manuscripts to find the piece of writing that he read half an hour ago. "Sorry about the wakeup call, Estevan. But you know, Liz won't be happy if she gets down here and sees you slacking off. Or worse," Michelle said in an almost threatening tone. "She could fire you."

She left the Cuban's cubicle with a triumphant smile and skipped towards the other cubicles, leaving the tan male to arrange his working space in panic. Michelle skimmed the list with her fellow employees' name on it and ticked the box next to the Cuban's name. The hyperactive organizer strolled hurriedly towards the back and returned with a tray of coffee. She visited Eduard and Raivis' cubicle where both were checking any typos made by the editors, Michelle gave each of them a cup of coffee and waved as she left, not forgetting to tick their names on her list.

Next, she had Vash and Lily's cubicle. The Swiss was quite protective of his sister and he wouldn't let anyone touch her. Most people would say that he had a brother complex, but were careful not to say it near or around him; you could endanger your own life. The Seychellois gave the Liechtensteinerin a rigid smile because of the glares that were pointed to her back by Vash. She waved both a quick goodbye and ticked both Vash's and Lily's box.

Michelle grinned broadly in relief upon reaching Berwald's and Tino's cubicle. The Finn stood up to greet her and took two cups of coffee from her tray and arranged the cups on their desk. The Seychellois noted their small conversation about a certain artist whose name wasn't familiar in her ears. She guessed that it was probably a random person they found in deviantART. Tino seemed to be excited at the mention of the name and quickly rummaged in their small cubicle for a telephone book. Michelle spotted the telephone book and gave it to the Finn. Tino muttered thanks as she waved and left the cubicle.

The Seychellois didn't step into Sadiq and Gupta's cubicle, afraid of Sadiq who was throwing manuscripts everywhere and stomping on them. When Michelle questioned, the Egyptian only mouthed, "Newbies. As usual." So she nodded in agreement and carefully passed them cups of coffee. Three to be exact; in case the Turk broke one of them.

Művészet és Irodalom was a popular publishing and printing company. Michelle was quite proud to be working there. The company was built during September 1945, right when the World War II had ended. Its most successful days were back in January 2000 where popular books were printed and the company raised its name through newspapers. The little girl didn't quite recall who the company's previous directors were because most of them used pen names or remained anonymous.

Today, Művészet és Irodalom was led by a Hungarian woman christened as Elizaveta Hérderváry with Roderich Edelstein as her vice-director. However, the company also had hired Gilbert Weillschmidt as the assistant. Michelle had to say that due to the fact that Gilbert was well known for his indolent attitude, she was surprised that Liz trusted him with the position. However, this no longer surprised her to the extent it once did. It was how the Prussian changed into a more responsible idiot—as Roderich preferred to call him—and because of this; the company was not yet bankrupt. The Seychellois chuckled as the sounds of thumping were heard from above.

'Nope. I'll never regret my decision to come to the city, mother. Because I've met so many amazing people.'

He yawned and stretched himself on the bed, then proceeded to curl again under the blanket. The weather was not supporting his theory of a bright day. The sky was gloomy and tinted an ugly grey. Alfred F. Jones always hated this kind of day. Only a small amount of sunlight could be seen behind the chunk of horrible grey clouds which dissipated into nothing. The American disliked nothingness, not that he disliked simplicity, he just doesn't like it whenever he found something or a location that had no meaning in it. A dim park, for instance. No children, no laughter; it felt like the vivid colors were grey, old. It wasn't alive.

The digital artist remained under the warm blanket until a shrill ring echoed throughout his ears, blocking his attempt to stay asleep for the day. He grunted in annoyance, brows meeting in the middle. Swiftly he took his red phone and flipped the tab. The neon green screen showed a notification of a new e-mail sent by an unknown address. Alfred pressed the middle button and read the mail.

Hello.

Nice meeting you, AwesomeHero50. My name's Hanatamago (which is of course, a pen name). I'm writing on behalf of, Művészet és Irodalom. The name is familiar, yes? I work there as an editor. I've sent you this e-mail for an important business proposition.

I've browsed through your gallery at deviantART, and I have to say, those art skills of yours are just excellent! I'm absolutely impressed and because you've proven yourself in front of a worldwide audience, I'm offering you a job as an illustrator at our company. Would you like that?

If you're interested, please contact this e-mail.

The American male blinked a few times, trying to re-read the mail again. If his eyes were working correctly, the Hanatamago editor guy was offering him a job opportunity as a digital artist. He rarely worked as an artist; most people would need him for photography most of the time. His last job as an artist was a few months ago when an agency asked him to make a cover for their next magazine.

He shrugged under the blanket, smiling excitedly before deciding to write the replying email.

Hello to you too! :D

Nice meeting you too, Hanatamago! And yeah! Of course I know! That company is totally famous, man! You work there? Lucky guy!

Thanks for the compliment too, dude. I'm glad that you like my deviations. It took a lot of years to practice that y'know! A job? As an illustrator? I'll take it! Send me the details and I'll definitely do it! Thank you for the opportunity, Hanatamago!

Alfred smiled broadly. His sapphire orbs glistened, his broad smile turned into a goofy grin and his cheeks pinked slightly due to the eagerness of doing the job. Deep inside, he knew that it could be a prank, but he had seen the user name 'Hanatamago' as few times when he was looking through his flooded inbox of activities and comments. Unless this 'Hanatamago' was different from the other 'Hanatamago' in dA, he could consider the mail as a prank.

He chose to ignore it and he eventually sent the replying email. There's no harm in taking risks, right?

A/N: This is a beta-ed chapter by xxMegaUnknown :) Hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter! :D Thank you xxMegaUnknown for beta-ing this story! :) Please review! :D It'll definitely make me and xxMegaUnknown very glad! ;)