A/N: Okay, so I lied a bit. Eh heh, to be honest I was so excited about writing a high school AU I just went ahead and jumped right into it before finishing my other fic first... I'm having a lot of fun with this idea, so I couldn't really resist. I tried to put a spin on the whole high school prompt... I hope it's interesting, ahh. Anyway, despite this being a bit early, I hope you guys enjoy it!

Warnings: Eventual UKxUS. High school AU. Human names used. Involves cases of bullying. A slight trigger warning for self-hate. Mild swearing. Character/fandom belong to their respective owners.

The first day of school was always the worst. It was filled to the brim with awkward introductions, uncomfortable change, and the usual whirlwind of disaster. The first day meant he had to see his peers again, and that was probably what he dreaded the most.

He preferred walking to school. It took him nearly thirty minutes to get there if he took the route through the woods behind his home, but that was okay. His journey gave him an opportunity to muse and to, for once, relax. Sometimes the walk was lonely, but he had to admit, he had grown used to feeling lost. But when it came down to it, he would rather take the dark, quiet, lonesome path than to take the bus. The school transportation meant he'd be sitting alone on the brown seat, with one of the quarterbacks leaning over his chair just to mess with him.

And he got enough of that during the day.

He always ducked into the nearest boy's bathroom when he reached campus. It was always empty. He would stand in front of the mirror that hung on one of the ugly brick walls and study himself while he constantly checked his watch. He couldn't help but wrinkle up his nose at his reflection. His blonde hair had that dumb cowlick, his glasses were huge, his skin wasn't smooth and his forehead was engulfed with acne. He was much shorter than the other boys. He would let his eyes roam down to study his clothing, taking in the sight of the pinstripe shirt and bowtie and suspenders that held up his jeans. He had weight rapidly accumulating in his midsection and it was showing through the fabric of his shirt. He would turn in little half-circles in front of the mirror and study his body, pinching his stomach in the process. When it came down to it, the more Alfred looked, the more he hated his body. He felt uncomfortable in his own skin. He felt fat and weird and isolated.

The other kids didn't like him, and he didn't really like himself either.

He would wait in the bathroom until his friend arrived. Well, perhaps more of an acquaintance. He was not quite sure at this point. He liked to believe they were friends, but… Outside of school, they didn't talk much at all. They never hung out or anything. Still, he could at least hope he could call someone his friend. Ivan was his name, and he was built just like a stone pillar, tall and huge and square. Ivan had a short haircut, and the color reminded the boy of snow. Ivan had transferred from Russia last year in the spring. His accent was so thick it was hard to understand him; his grammar was also horrendous, for his English was still very weak. Alfred didn't know a whole lot about the boy's background, but he knew for sure the family wasn't rich. Perhaps that was why he was in this current situation of his...

"Alfred, how summer?" He tried to ask, his lack of connection to the language showing now. The pair walked alongside each other in the flood of students. Ivan glanced down at the other, completely towering over him. Alfred had yet to grow like the others, looking like an ant in the crowd of boys.

"Too short," Alfred shrugged a bit, tightly clutching the strap of his backpack. As if on cue, he was bumped roughly, hearing a hiss of "move, dweeb" in his ear. He shrank into himself slightly, his grip so tight on the strap of his bag that his knuckles turned white. "I didn't really do much though… Dad was gone most of the time so I just kinda stayed home… The usual. What about you?"

Ivan hummed a bit, seeming to be thinking of how to answer.

"Went…" Ivan trailed off briefly, seeming to be searching for the proper term. "Home? Went back."

They had shifted through the crowded corridor by now. Ivan had led the way this entire time, and Alfred had to admit he felt a flare of jealousy in his gut. The students easily parted for Ivan. Alfred was not sure if they simply felt sorry for him, or if they were intimidated by his size. After all, how tall did he say he was again? Six feet and a few inches? Regardless, Alfred was always the one to be getting shoved aside.

And he really hated it.

"It must have been a big change to stay here then go back to all that snow," Alfred said absently, studying the pattern on the tiled flooring. "I wish it would snow here like that…"

"It is nice," Ivan replied, now watching Alfred. The other had slid one arm out from under the strap of his backpack. The bag hung sideways now, and the shorter male had unzipped it, rummaging through various binders and folders.

At last he extracted a wrinkled, folded sheet of yellow paper. Alfred waved it slightly as he gripped it by one corner, managing to unfold it. He didn't bother to look up, having to nearly yell for Ivan to hear him properly. The height difference really irked him.

"Let me see your schedule."

Ivan frowned at first, not seeming to understand. He bent over to inspect the paper in Alfred's hand, before something flashed in those bright eyes, and he began to move, now comprehending. He rummaged through the pocket of his jeans and pulled out the sheet, before handing it to Alfred.

The smaller began to compare the two sheets of paper. He let out a sharp grunt as someone had bumped into him, despite how far away from the main walkway they were. He squirmed back until his spine hit the white wall, and he refocused his attention on the task at hand.

No classes together. Ah, Alfred should have known better. He was in nearly all advanced classes, sans electives. Ivan was smart, sure, but with the language barrier, he surely wouldn't be able to keep up with everyone else. Even if he knew he should not have gotten his hopes up, Alfred felt a little sink in his gut. At least they had lunch together…

He had really been hoping that Ivan would be in his gym class again. That was how they met last spring. It had been an accident, Alfred supposed. The two of them were basically isolated from the remainder of the group. They had been picked last no matter what sport they played and even then, they simply lingered at the back of the group because no one wanted anything to do with them.

It had been a basketball game if he remembered correctly. He had been standing near the back at the sidelines, using the toe of one shoe to draw patterns on the floor. He vaguely remembered someone yelling his name, and the ball smacking him right between the eyes.

He could remember lying on the floor on his back. Of course there was laughter in his eardrums and stars twinkled just above his eyes. Ivan had helped him up and dusted him off with one palm. He hadn't laughed, and tried to joke about the bruise that was trying to form on Alfred's forehead.

It was a twisted event, sure, but it had formed at least some sort of bond between the two outcasts.

Alfred handed the schedule back to Ivan and clutched his own tightly in his anxious hands. He could handle going to class by himself, but in a way, gym was on a whole different level. Gym stressed him out and could make him feel isolated despite the room being filled with people. He hated that class and he didn't really want to face it alone, but he had no choice in the matter.

"Come on, big guy. Let's get some breakfast."

They then began their journey to the cafeteria. It was always crowded at breakfast hours, so the usual flood of people was not really surprising to Alfred. He let Ivan lead the way as usual. When they had made it to the line, Alfred did most of the talking. Ivan had courteously bent over a bit so Alfred did not have to scream over the din of noise surrounding them both. They talked a small bit, just simple sentences about their classes and break over the hot months. The line moved relatively quickly and the pair managed to find two empty seats at the end of one table. A good two or three seats on each side of them stayed open; Alfred knew no one really wanted to be close to them. No one would talk to them, let alone sit by them.

He absently began to shake the carton of orange juice. Ivan had begun to talk a bit about Russia, mainly his home and family. His speech was hard to follow; Alfred found himself zoning a bit, just studying the surrounding student body.

Oh, everything worked in such large groups of cliques… Alfred noticed that easily enough. It was really easy to tell with the girls. When it came to the boys, he could always tell who played sports and who didn't. He could even tell who was on the football team, the soccer team, and the basketball team.

Then again, it was rather obvious if you looked hard enough. The football players were usually larger. The men's soccer players always dyed their hair blonde at the start of the season. It was the little things that helped Alfred piece it all together, one step at a time.

And figuring out people was easy too! Since no one talked to Alfred, he spent most of his time listening. He knew easily who was dating who, who was going where on the weekends, who had drama with someone else… He knew when each team had a game, he knew who hated a certain teammate, and he knew the captain of each team.

But there was one that seemed to stand out a bit from the others.

Alfred had seen him in the halls several times over the past year or two. Girls practically swarmed him and the boys seemed to always enjoy his company too, always laughing and joking with him. Arthur Kirkland was his name, and Alfred had heard he hailed from England. He was captain of the soccer team, and he was rather proud of it too. Alfred had gotten close to him once by mistake; Arthur wound up running into him, his bag hitting Alfred squarely in the side as he hurried down one of the halls. But to Alfred's surprise, he had turned his head and shouted an apology down the corridor before he vanished from sight.

And even though it was nothing more than a split second, Alfred remembered it as if it was yesterday.

Arthur had wonderful green eyes and his hair seemed like a disaster no matter what day it was. He had eyebrows the size of Texas and a jaw that was slightly square; his whole body seemed toned, and Alfred guessed it was from playing sports. He was pale but there were freckles forming on his arms and face from the kiss of sunlight.

He had seen Arthur practice before. When he used to stay after hours in the library to do homework, and came outside, the team was always practicing out on the field. From the glimpses he had seen, he could tell a variety of things. Arthur was quick. He had a powerful kick as well.

Alfred had been fascinated at the time. He had approached the chain link fence and leaned upon it, just watching the team. Alfred was no good at sports. He was heavy and clumsy and no one really wanted him on their team anyway. But the boys he had been watching were the exact opposite. They were all skinny and toned, and moved so gracefully despite what they were doing.

Alfred watched quietly that day. The coach led the team, tweeting the whistle all the while. Arthur seemed to be leading the drills. Alfred watched them race between cones with the ball, nudging it with the tips of their cleats. He watched them work together, kicking the ball with the inside of their feet, passing it back and forth as they charged up and down the field. He watched them line up in front of the goal and kick. He noticed that Arthur had made the most goals out of everyone else.

When the team got a water break though, they paid more attention to Alfred. A few of the boys started to shout at him, teasing words coming out of their mouths. Alfred saw Arthur deliver a swift stomp onto the top of one boy's foot, but he didn't bother to stick around to watch anymore.

He had decided to walk home instead and drown himself in his books to avoid thinking.

But that made two incidents that Arthur acted differently than everyone else. Despite him being on a sports team, he didn't seem to behave like the other athletes. Arthur seemed to keep to himself. Sure, he was almost always accompanied by another teammate, but they operated in two different ways. From what he had seen, the others were loud and opinionated and thrived on gossip. Arthur seemed a bit quieter, listened more than he spoke, and the topic of another's personal business seemed uninteresting to him. He avoided flirting with girls he was not interested in. He bought gifts for his friends. He would help someone pick up their belongings if they dropped them in the hallway.

Arthur Kirkland was not a typical athlete. To Alfred, he seemed to actually have a heart in there somewhere, unlike the other guys that teased him about his weight or looks or tried to beat him up after class. Arthur actually seemed…really nice.

Maybe it was because Arthur was a bit different from the rest of the group that everyone was so crazy about him. Was that what made him so likeable with the guys? Was that what made the girls flirt with him? Was that what made him so popular?

Regardless of the reason, a part of Alfred wished he could experience that too. He wondered what it was like to have a huge group of friends that always wanted to hang out. He wondered what it was like to have girls always fawning all over him, to find love notes in his locker, and to get asked on dates nearly every week. He wanted to know what it felt like to actually belong…to actually feel needed and loved.

Maybe then he could be happy too.

"Alfred." Suddenly there was an elbow slamming into his ribcage. The boy spluttered slightly, looking over at the source. Ivan's eyes were glued onto him. "You not listen."

"Sorry," the blonde mumbled, looking down at his tray. He began picking at a sausage link with his plastic fork, not really eating though.

Ivan pursed his lips into a thin line. He had easily learned the ins and outs of Alfred's habits not long after they had met. Having a large appetite was something Alfred was notorious for. And so when he wasn't eating like usual, well, Ivan knew something was up.

"Something bothering you," the taller commented. He had been watching Alfred's face. His eyes had been glued to a table across the cafeteria. Ivan may have struggled in school sometimes, but he was by no means stupid. The entire student body knew who sat at that table.

And the table's main source of life, Arthur Kirkland, seemed to be the prime focus of Alfred's blue eyes.

Alfred began to absently stab at his breakfast but still did not eat. He shrugged at first, not looking at Ivan. His eyes were glassy behind his huge glasses and Ivan feared for a moment that the boy was going to start crying.

"I wish I knew what made everyone else so special," Alfred said at last. He shoved his tray away, his appetite fading completely. He put his head down on the slightly dirty cafeteria table and used his arms to shield his face. "How come everyone else has a lot of friends and has a place to go except me? It's not fair…"

Ivan was about to argue, but silenced himself after a moment of thinking. In a way, he guessed Alfred was right. Sure, Ivan may not have had any friends, but he had a healthy, nice place to go home to at night. He lived with both his parents and his two sisters.

And yet… The one time he had been to Alfred's house, it was exactly the opposite. Alfred's house was always dead silent. Ivan saw no forms of life while he was over that day. If he remembered correctly, Alfred had said his father was on an extended business trip again. He avoided the topic of his mother. Ivan did not know if the boy had any siblings, but judging from the empty house, he supposed not. He had not seen any pets either.

It seemed like a lonely lifestyle. The only person Alfred got to talk to during school was Ivan, and surely that was not enough. To be bullied at school and then go home to an abandoned house… It made Ivan's insides hurt. He could not imagine being so alone.

Ivan knew Alfred was crying. He did not lift his head for ages, and his shoulders trembled a little. Ivan reached out and tried to give the other a pat on the shoulder, but Alfred jerked harshly away from him. Ivan took that as a sign to stop, so he did, simply going back to his breakfast.

When the bell rang, Alfred still refused to move at first. He simply kept his head down on the table, his face hidden in his arms. A few quarterbacks walked past their end of the table and flicked him on the back of the head – followed by Ivan's glare – and then Alfred bolted upright. His eyes were pink and his cheeks had a tint of color to them. A few salty lines decorated his round cheeks. His lip was still trembling. Ivan sighed gingerly through his nose. Poor kid.

Alfred proceeded to stand up, securing his hold on his backpack. Ivan slowly rose as well, blinking at the pat Alfred offered his arm. The smaller stood on his tiptoes, and Ivan bent over to hear him better. Alfred's voice was quiet and shaky.

"I'll see you at lunch. Try to save me a seat, okay?"

Before Ivan received the chance to say anything, Alfred hurried off. He was clutching the strap of his bag for dear life, and before he made it out of the cafeteria, he had already been bumped roughly. He simply stumbled a bit and shoved his way out of the cafeteria, vanishing from sight.

Ivan remained in place for a few moments. He glanced to Alfred's tray, which was now forgotten. Frowning, Ivan picked it up, along with his own tray. After stealing a piece of sausage from Alfred's plate, he simply threw the rest away, before flinging his bag over his shoulder.

He was having problems getting Alfred's red-rimmed eyes out of his head.

The first two classes of the day went by agonizingly slow. Alfred's schedule consisted of having calculus first, and then an elective. In his case, it was computer science. Both were things he loved, so he didn't mind the class itself. It was his peers he could not stand. He liked sitting in the very front desk but he hated how he could feel the entire class staring at him and mocking him behind his back. Crumpled paper balls hit the back of his head when the teacher had her back turned.

Lunch did anything but calm him down. He had managed to find Ivan, and the pair was seated at a secluded table near the corner of the cafeteria. By this point Alfred's emotions had hit a low and he was starting to gorge himself. It was a comfort mechanism he had developed since he was little, and maybe that was why he was getting heavy…

Ivan had English and history in the morning. They talked a little about their classes; it was mainly Ivan trying to launch the discussion, excitement bubbling out of him when he explained they were going to do a lesson on Russian history in his class. Alfred simply nodded along, not really in the mood to talk.

He instead spent majority of the lunch period watching the remaining people in the cafeteria. He could read lips; he witnessed girls gossiping, boys talking about sports, both discussing weekend plans and videos found on the Internet.

And last but not least, Alfred allowed himself to focus on Arthur's table. The table the group had was circular, and seated eight. Arthur seemed to be the leader. He had a wavy-haired blonde on his left; Francis was his name, Alfred believed. Francis had two of his friends with him; a dark-skinned brunette and a snowy-haired boy. Antonio and Gilbert; the three had been friends for as long as Alfred could remember. Alfred had a bit of difficulty naming the remaining four at the table.

Arthur and Francis liked to bicker. He wasn't sure why and Alfred couldn't say the reason particularly interested him. But it was as if they did little things to purposefully set each other off. They would insult each other, but by the end of lunch, they were friends again.

They all seemed to be enjoying themselves. They would all make jokes and clap and laugh. They would play a widespread table game of rock paper scissors; the loser threw away the trash for the entire table. They would have group discussions about their lives, about stories they heard, about things they found interesting. They began to make plans to go to various games or events together.

It wasn't fair.

After eating, Alfred proceeded to shove his face into one of his textbooks. It was an attempt of distraction; he was trying his best to ignore his surroundings, but that wouldn't stop his brain from thinking about it. And when it came down to it, the more Alfred puzzled over the situation, the sicker it made him.

He had tried to think positively at first regarding the rest of the day. After all, he only had two classes left to go. English wouldn't be that bad. And then the reminder that gym was his last class of the day crept back into his head, and newfound anxiety lit in his gut.

Oh, if only he could be someone else…

Lunch was, overall, uneventful. The two were in the corner, so what little attention they received from bullies was gone. They became part of the brick, blending in perfectly. They were isolated from the rest of the world.

It gave Alfred mixed feelings. On one hand, he itched to be noticed. He wanted people to have conversations with him. He wanted people to actually call him by his name, instead of an insult. He wanted people to have fun and joke with him, not to be made fun of and be the butt of every joke.

Yet…when people did notice him, he hated it. It was not what he wanted. The attention was negative. It led to insults and his books being knocked out of his hands.

He could want, but he could not have.

English offered no changes. He remained perched in a desk at the front of the room. He could not shake the sense of dread away from himself. He wound up with a stomachache due to a terrible case of nerves. He felt completely and utterly sick. He was terrified and he knew it.

A part of him was curious if he could skip the class and manage to get away with it. But in the end, Alfred decided to challenge his fear.

The boys' locker room was only the beginning of a nightmare. Alfred tried his best to creep in unnoticed by closely following a group filing in. He could easily hide behind them since he was so short. But when they dispersed to go get changed, he no longer had any form of protection. He tightly clung to his backpack as he walked hurriedly through the locker room, trying to find a secluded spot near the corner to get dressed.

He peeked over at the others. Everyone was taller than him. Everyone was skinnier than him. Everyone was happier than him. He swallowed and squatted a bit above the floor, digging around in his backpack for his change of clothes.

He tried to change as fast as he could, attempting to keep as much of himself hidden in the corner as possible. He let the suspenders clang as he unbuckled them, allowing them to dangle at his hips. He then hurriedly started on his pants, tugging them off in one clean sweep. He felt self-conscious in the shorts he had brought despite them nearly reaching his knees. The real challenge now was his shirt. He clumsily worked at the buttons, hunching over a little. Finally he managed to unbutton enough of them so that the fabric slid down his rounded shoulders. At last he tugged the shirt off completely, going for the t-shirt he had stuffed in his bag.

"Damn." Someone whistled at him suddenly. Alfred could hear a few boys snickering, easily knowing someone was making fun of him. His cheeks started to burn. Maybe if he ignored them they would stop. "What's the matter? Looks like you've been spending more time stuffing your face than studying."

Or, perhaps that was wishful thinking.

Alfred's cheeks darkened a good three shades of red. He hurriedly tugged the shirt over his head, still feeling too revealed. Everyone was staring at him. Alfred then made a beeline for the door, only to have one of the others block his path.

"Please move," he mumbled, trying to squeeze by the other male. The other was much taller and sturdier than him. Alfred tried to push by him; the boy simply shoved him to move him back. He was rough; Alfred wound up tripping, crashing down onto the dirty floor on his back. The room became alive with laughter and he could feel his eyes watering. Three of the boys hovered over him now, grinning ear to ear in amusement.

"Aww, look at him. Good old Jones, pussy like usual." One of the boys nudged Alfred with the toe of his shoe. Alfred whimpered a bit, trying to get up, only to have a boot kick him in the gut. It easily knocked the air out of him and knocked him back down. The source of the attack began to laugh, and soon enough, the others did too. Getting to his feet was humiliating; every time he managed to rise onto his hands and knees, someone shoved him back down. His cheeks were burning. His eyes were beginning to leak, despite his efforts to not cry in front of the others. He stopped himself from blinking, because he knew if he did, the tears glistening in his eyes would fall out, and he wouldn't be able to stop them.

Finally, the others seemed to back down. One by one they all began filing out of the locker room, and at last, Alfred was alone. He could hear their footsteps hitting the waxed floor of the gymnasium. The sound of boys and girls loudly chatting faintly reached his ears through the wooden door.

A small hiccup came out of his throat as he dragged himself onto his hands and knees. Alfred didn't bother to hurry. He took his time rising to his feet. He walked slowly towards the door, but paused as he looked in one of the mirrors.

He didn't see anything he liked. Why was it such a wonder to him that no one liked him?

Alfred slowly crept out of the locker room and into the gym. The last of the girls were filing out of the locker room now as well. Everyone else was seated on the floor in the starting position. As soon as Alfred exited the room, all eyes rose, staring him down as he trudged slowly across the gym and sat down near the back corner. Gym was the exception. He could not sit up front in gym. He wanted to avoid all eyes. He didn't want people to look at him. He didn't want anyone at all to notice him. He wished he was invisible.

When he sat down on the floor, he uncomfortably pulled his legs close. In the small chunk of time before the opening drills, Alfred began to study his class, trying to figure out what he was getting into this time. The boys were huge and he recognized majority of them. They were in his grade. However, a few were unusual faces, maybe seniors. He recognized a few of the girls as well. He scanned the rows of people up and down, trying to pinpoint who he knew, or more accurately, who he had squabbles with so far in his lifetime.

He had inspected halfway down the third row when a messy mop of blonde hair caught his eye. Alfred then swallowed. Oh, God. Arthur was in his class? He let his eyes roam over the other for a split second. His green eyes were bright, amused, almost excited. His t-shirt looked almost too tight, gray in color and displaying a band Alfred had never heard of. Was his eyesight really that bad or…was that an earring in his left ear?

Great. Just great. Alfred whined a bit, rubbing his palms roughly over his face, bumping his glasses in the process. Just what he needed was the Arthur Kirkland in his class. He didn't need another flashy reminder of how much better the boy was than him; he didn't want to remember how much of a loser he really was.

But… Maybe with Arthur being in his class, the attention would be taken off of him for a little while. At least he'd get stared at less when he ran; maybe the grating words from the peanut gallery would be a reduced. Who knew, maybe he'd finally disappear completely.

Well, what remainder of him that actually was noticed anyway.

The warm-ups were starting. Alfred had never really been flexible; reaching his toes with his fingertips without bending his knees was a challenge, even more now due to the weight accumulating in his abdomen. He stole a glance around him; everyone else could do it but him.

It always 'but him', 'except him', 'only him'. Maybe it was just meant to be that way.

They rolled over, holding themselves up on their toes and the palms of their hands in a plank. Alfred's arms were shaking. His back started sagging first. He tried to straighten up, and he vaguely felt his elbows buckle.

All heads turned toward him when he hit the floor with a thud. His cheeks burned bright pink and he scrambled, trying to pick himself back up into the proper position. Color spread down the nape of his neck and into the tips of his ears. He heard snickering, and lots of it. Tears glittered in his eyes and Alfred simply bowed his head, his body shaking as he tried to keep himself off the ground.

Ah… He hated school.

Chapter 1: End.

A/N: Ahh, I'm sorry this first chapter seems a bit slow-moving! Regardless, I hoped you guys enjoyed! See you next chapter.