The Vampire and The Dunce
Chapter 1: The Dunce
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or its characters in any shape or form
"The only thing we have to fear is fear itself."
Alfred F. Jones didn't know the meaning of fear. He liked to consider himself a courageous hero and a man among men. From the time he turned five years old that's all he wanted. To prove to the world that he, Alfred F. Jones, was fearless and heroic. For years he was without fear.
Until he got news of his mother's car wreck.
He was in school, in the third desk of the fourth row. He sat next to a boy with piercings and behind a girl genius with an IQ of 180. His history teacher's phone rang and Alfred was sent to the office. It was there, in an ugly pastel blue chair, where he was introduced to fear.
It was raining that day. Raining mercilessly upon the small town. Gray clouds roiled over it like a scratchy wool blanket. Usually Alfred found comfort in a day like that. Alfred could find comfort in anything. But that day was different. The rain was so heavy, so thick, it caused his mother to hydroplane and crash into a tree.
After that, after he heard those words strung together in a sentence he never thought he would hear, for the first time he was truly scared.
And unsurprisingly he ran. He ran to his mother only to find he was too late. She died at 12:48 on August 18, 2016.
Alfred learned a lesson. He learned never to underestimate fear or to take life for granted. On August 20, he buried his mother in the family cemetery next to his father. As he stood there over his mother's grave with a social worker waiting for him at his house he realized something else. Something truly terrifying. He was all alone.
No mother to cook him pancakes in the morning, no humming in the kitchen, no motherly scolding for doing something stupid, no warm hugs, no more proud smiles, and no more staying up late to watch tv together. No one to have his back.
Sure he had friends but no one like his mother. That day he stopped at a stop sign in his old beaten up car. One street would take him home. The other would take him out of town. He hesitated with reason. He didn't want to go home and face reality. A house without his mother to make it home. Along with that a social worker who's ready to take him to some stranger's house for the next year and a half. None of that sounded appealing.
He sat for about two hundred and sixteen seconds before he made a decision.
Seeing the town disappear in his rearview mirror made his stomach churn. Reasonable considering he was leaving his home town. A large part of his life and identity was left behind that day. Even so, he believed he made the right decision. With only the clothes on his back and the money in his pocket he ran. He ran without knowing the future. He ran down a path fate had intended for him and his life was about to change.
Alfred F. Jones slept in a car that night. He slept in the backseat of his old beaten up Lincoln. The car was ugly, no doubt about that. It's paint was chipped, on some of the places of the seats there was duct tape to keep it together, it broke down often, and one of the side view mirrors had broken off long ago.
He slept fitfully. He was plagued by the images of his mother's dead corpse. He woke up often in the night in tears and it took him at least ten minutes each time to return to sleep. As the sunlight filtered in through his permanently dusty windows he found himself unable to fall back asleep. So he decided to hit the road again. He drove for hours after he refilled his tank for the second time. As the day came to a close. He didn't know where he was going. He didn't have a specific direction in mind.
He kept to the back roads out of fear of the police searching for his vehicle. He was sure by then the social worker had called the police and ordered a search party for him. So for miles and miles and miles all he saw were trees and grassy plains.
As the day became night and his eyes were beginning to feel heavy he pulled off onto a dirt road. There was no, "No Trespassing," or, "Keep Out," sign so he felt fairly confident in his decision. The road led to a clearing and he parked right in the middle of it. Trees towered over his rusty car like intimidating watch guards of the wood. Alfred didn't care. He was so tired. Mentally and physically. He climbed into the back seat of his car and he laid back. He used his jacket as a makeshift pillow and he curled up.
He thanked his lucky stars he wasn't cold. He didn't need shivering on his list of problems. Truth be told he actually felt serene. The sounds of the woods comforted him. The song of the cricket, the crackle of the trees as the wind toyed with them, the occasional hoot of an owl, and the warmth of the slowly changing season. All of it lulled him to sleep and for once since his mother's death he didn't dream of his mother's dead body.
Clank, clank, clank. Metal against glass was the first thing he heard as he awoke from his pleasant slumber
He opened his eyes slowly, the sunlight seared into his retinas and he protected them with his arm. The seats groaned as he sat up his eyes finally adjusted. An officer stood next to his window, a flashlight in his hand. Why did he need a flashlight? It was broad daylight.
His stomach dropped as he realized he was caught. He was caught and now he was going to be dragged back home and then sent to a foster home. He sighed in resignation, realizing he couldn't run he scooted over and he rolled down his window manually. The lever refused, at first, but after a few grunts and pushes he finally managed to smoothly roll it down.
He must've looked like a mess. His glasses were askew, he always forgot to take them off before going to bed, and tufts of his golden blond hair stood in every direction. He had bags under his eyes and his clothes were wrinkled. He fixed his glasses and he asked the man with the badge, "What's the problem officer?"
The cop frowned, it seemed like he did that often. The man had blond hair like his but slicked back sharply. Not a hair was out of place. He was tall, broad shouldered, and probably had a pound of muscle on each arm. When he spoke he had a thick German accent, "You can't sleep here." He stated very clearly.
"Why not?" He shot back defensively, irritable from lack of sleep, "It's not like I was trespassing or something there weren't any signs."
The man, with a lack of facial expression, pointed with his flashlight. He followed where it lead and his eyes landed on a, "No Loitering" sign. It stood in front of an antique shop with mannequins posing while wearing victorian dresses in the front window. People passed by his ugly car but didn't seem to pay attention to him.
Alfred was completely and totally shocked. His jaw had dropped as he gaped at the sign, then at the building, then at the officer, "B-But-t-that's not possible! Last night this all nothing but trees!" He shouted, flabbergasted and bemused.
The German nodded several times and then he sighed, "Step out of the car and walk a straight line."
Alfred's eyes widened in offense, "Wait? You think I'm drunk?"
"Do as I say or I'll arrest you for disturbing the peace," The officer warned, his eyes narrowed into an authoritative glare. His hands perched at his belt and he took a step back.
Alfred gulped and decided to comply. "Fine." His door screamed as he pushed it open. He stepped out into the harsh broad daylight. People started to take notice and watch at a distance. Alfred rolled his eyes at them.
"Now take twelve steps forward and back in a straight line," The officer of the name of Ludwig instructed firmly.
"This is stupid I'm not drunk," Alfred insisted as he took a few steps forward with ease. "I may smell like one but that's because I haven't showered in a few days." He said as he took each step forward without stumbling or faltering. He turned around, "So don't hate me cuz I smell." He said as he walked back to his car.
Ludwig seemed almost disappointed that he didn't get to arrest him right then and there. "Fine. You have five minutes to move this car or I'm towing it." He warned menacingly before he turned and marched back to his cop car.
Behind his back Alfred stuck his tongue out at him. Then he raised his arm and he sniffed his armpit. He groaned and jerked away. He smelled like an onion sandwich. He looked around, he looked back at the antique shop. Maybe he could ask if he could use their bathroom.
He sent a glance to his beloved hideous car and remembered the warning the officer lovingly gave him. He shrugged and decided the cop was bluffing. He jogged up to the glass door of the antique shop and he pushed it open. A bell rang and cold air slapped him in the face. "Wow, these people must keep their air conditioner on arctic setting," He muttered as he closed the door behind him.
He was greeted by the sight of well swept wooden floors, shelves among shelves of an assortment items from different time periods. Tucked away in the back was a front desk made of a wide glass display case. Nobody seemed to be around. By the window with the mannequins was a dainty table holding up a silver tea set. On each side of the table was a chair, the kind a queen would sit at while tasting a crumpet or sipping tea.
Everything in the store was well preserved. On the top of one of the shelves were two broad swords combined at the middle on a plaque, a lion's head perched behind the counter of the register with it's mouth open as if it was killed mid-roar, a cannon pushed up against the wall on one side of the room, and even a collection of guns in one of the glass casings. Not just any guns. Bayonets and pistols from the Civil War Era.
Alfred paid the most attention to the guns. Who wouldn't? Guns are badass.
"Who are you?" A British voice demanded accusingly.
Alfred turned around and met the eyes of a shorter male. The first thing he noticed right off the bat about this fellow was his abnormally large eyebrows. They were like two giant caterpillars. So mesmerized was he by this man's eyebrows that he completely forgot the question.
The stranger's eyes narrowed and he hissed, "You have two seconds to answer my question or I bloody castrate you!" He shouted angrily, his hands balled up into fists.
The word castration seemed to shake him out of his stupor. He laughed and he rubbed the back of his neck, "Sorry, I just haven't seen eyebrows like yours before."
"What do you mean, 'like yours before,'?" The man demanded, clearly offended. "My eyebrows are perfectly normal thanks."
"No, dude, they're freaking huge," Alfred snickered, amused by his reactions.
"No, they are not!" The man stomped his foot, his face turned red with anger. "You take it back…" he ground out through his teeth.
"Why would I?" Alfred asked with a smile, "I mean it! They're big! But they're like...awesome big. They suit your face in a good way." He said with a thumbs up.
The British man hesitated, surprised by Alfred's statement. He straightened up, "Is that so?" His massive eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Huh...very well, you live to see another day."
"My name is Alfred," Alfred introduced himself with a goofy grin.
The short man wrinkled his nose as he caught Alfred's smell, "Charmed. My name is Arthur." He covered his nose as he took a step forward with his hand outstretched.
Alfred looked confused and then remembered, "Oh, yeah! Sorry," He laughed, "I haven't showered in a few days that's why I'm here. Can I use your bathroom?" He shook his hand up and down enthusiastically.
Arthur pulled his hand back quickly, "What are you going to do? Bathe in the sink?" He asked with a hint of disgust in his voice.
Alfred thought about it and nodded, "Yep, that was the plan."
"Ugh, no as a gentleman I cannot let this stand." He said with a frown, "How old are you?" He asked with a cocked eyebrow.
"Sixteen," Alfred replied proudly. He's very tall for a sixteen year old and he's kept himself in shape. Sometimes people would mistake him for a twenty old year old college student which helped him score alcohol easily most of the time.
"Where are your parents?" Arthur asked but he regretted the question as soon as he asked it because Alfred's smile fell instantly as well as the light in his eyes.
A question like that was like a kick in the teeth to Alfred because for a moment there he had managed to forget that he was an orphan.
Arthur took his silence as the answer to his question. He saw that look in his eyes, he's seen it many times before in other people's eyes. Like someone had taken their fire and extinguished them until all that was left was smoke. He pitied him, someone so young shouldn't have to live without their parents. "I see."
Alfred blurted out, "They're on vacation." It was a lie. A blatantly obvious lie. But he still wanted to pretend just for a little while that they weren't dead. That his mother was just lying out on a beach towel somewhere on some island getting a tan.
Arthur raised one fuzzy eyebrow in surprise, "Vacation?" He pressed on, "Where?"
"Uhhh," He looked up and around, "Hawaii." He said the first thing that popped into his head.
"Hawaii," Arthur repeated with a monotone expression of disbelief. "You don't say."
"That's right," Alfred decided to just go with it, "Hawaii." He nodded his head, "Yep, they needed some time off so they went to...Hawaii." He said awkwardly.
"And they didn't take you with them?" He crossed his arms over his chest and stared him down. He wasn't buying anything he was saying.
"Well, you know parents…" He chuckled and shrugged, "What are you gonna do?"
"I see and I suppose you live in town?"
"Maybe…" He rocked back and forth on his heels, smiling childishly.
He sighed, "Then why do you need a shower then? Also, why are you dressed in formal wear?"
Wow, the questions just did not stop coming, did they? "The shower stopped working at my house and it was laundry day." Accomplishment achieved: Professional Liar.
Arthur frowned, he wanted to call him out but he also wanted to see how this would play out as well. "Fine. You won't be using my bathroom down here. That's for customers only. Go upstairs into my bedroom. Don't go poking around and go straight to the bathroom," He pointed his finger at him, "If I find one thing missing…"
"You'll castrate me?" Alfred gave him a lopsided grin.
Arthur smirked, "You're bloody right I am. Now go before I changed my mind." He pointed at the set of stairs behind the counter.
Alfred grinned excitedly, "Thank you so much!" He suddenly pulled Arthur in for a foul smelling hug.
Arthur gagged, "Get off, ya smelly ponce!" He pushed him away. His cheeks had turned a slight pink as he straightened himself up.
"Sorry, Artie!" he laughed before taking off upstairs.
Arthur glared at his retreating back and scoffed. He stared up the stairs and his expression changed from annoyed to curious. "How on earth did you get here?" He wandered out loud as he heard the sound of a car being towed away.