AN: Hi! I'm a French girl having fun (pissing off everyone :P) writing fictions in English (what a strange idea, lol) so if there is any mistake that blocks or hurts you, you PM me, okay? ;)
Special warning guys, this is about Punk!UK. That damn fiction contains very tough language, and can be really spicy/virulent, especially about France in this first chapter (but I don't care, I'm French, uh? 8D), and maybe a little about America in the next chapter. But ANYWAY, this is just a fiction, I don't really think all those bad things for real! This is Punk!UK, right? Peace and love my friends^^ Hope nobody would get offended… If you really feel offended, feel free to tell me, and I'll see if I can delete some stuff.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia!
Enjoy^^ Oï!
Anarchy Baby
Arthur, a guitar genius punk, ditches his damn boyfriend Francis and his damn band Bad Touch Four and leaves London for San Francisco for a while. There is one thing the dude didn't expect. There is a *** American brat that dares pissing him off while he's trying getting himself drunk. And of course he can't resist him. Rated M for very tough language, alcohol, yaoi, Punk!UK X US.
Arthur was dragging his big shoes in the street, not really paying attention to his way and what time it was. Actually, he was in London, in the evening, probably nine or ten o' clock. Or maybe eleven.
His mind was quite blurred by alcohol and people were staring at him. But he didn't care. His head was filled with dark thoughts no one could understand in that world with no future for him. Fuck the world. He wanted to write it in red letters on every wall to express the rage roaring in his heart. A rage for nothing and everything he probably couldn't explain himself.
However. He didn't want to think anymore.
He managed to open the building door and climb the stairs and broke into the apartment without losing his time knocking.
Anyway the door was unlocked and Francis was standing in front of him.
"Where were you?"
Arthur didn't want to answer. Why was that guy allowed to ask him such questions? Can't he shut up his damn frog mouth? Who does he think he is, with his stupid long blond hair and looking at him with such blue eyes? If that guy wasn't spending his time fucking, and with that amount of alcohol in his veins, Arthur could have mistaken him for the upper sister of the school he was used to attend when he was a brat. At that thought, the rage in his heart grew a little more.
"No one has seen you for two days. Where were you?"
Those eyes. Damn it. Why can't he punch his bloody face? Arthur wondered. Why his arm just didn't want to do it? Just do it?
"Nowhere. Arthur replied.
- Liar."
Arthur swore in silence. Why the fuck was he suddenly acting intelligent now? What did he take? Was he sick?
"Mind your own business. Arthur gritted his teeth.
- What my boyfriend and guitarist of our band is doing is my business. I'm concerned about you, Arthur. We're all concerned. Why at least didn't you come for rehearsing? We need you. Our band, Arthur. Our future. What are you doing? Chéri, what's going on?"
Arthur was looking at something invisible on the floor, not knowing what was driving him sick the most. What the Frenchman was saying or just the Frenchman. Wasn't life made to do what you want and fuck everyone? Arthur wanted to destroy everything with his boots but he had no motivation enough to use violence.
"Fuck you. Arthur groaned. Fuck the band. I don't give a shit."
He ignored superbly Francis' shocked face.
"And besides, that band sucks. You all damn suck. I'm out."
The Frenchman's eyes widened so much that he really looked like a frog.
Of course he was right. Him, the great Arthur Kirkland, the lead guitar of Bad Touch Four, was simply a genius, a monument. All the others were just playing shit.
No, no one could understand his feelings.
"You- you're… out?
- Masturbation has not destroyed your ears yet."
Francis ignored the joke.
"I am. I'm leaving the band."
Francis frowned in disbelief and shook his head in protestation, which exasperated Arthur even more.
Why he was with that guy, he didn't remember. What a guitar genius was doing with such an annoying guy? Why the hell he was always asking for more than just sex?
"And I leave you".
Francis stared at him in astonishment.
"You're leaving me? After all those years spent together?"
Arthur didn't answer. All he wanted was to go away and disappear.
"After all what we went through together, you're leaving me?"
Arthur had mistaken. Actually Francis was as stupid as usual. The Frenchman got more annoying that Arthur could have think possible, starting to snivel like a baby, whining with the ugliest accent of the universe and complaining in a language that nobody in the world fucking understand.
"Pourquoi? Arthur, mon amour, wy you leev mee? I don't want! Stay wiz mee! Watt weel I bee weezâwt you? Oh, Arthur, mon Arthur, don't leev mee alône! Pleeeez…"
Francis grabbed him by his arms.
"Ne me laisse pas… I still love you, tu sais.
- I don't need your stupid shuh tem-
- Je t'aime. Francis sighed in a last tentative to correct Arthur's pronunciation.
- Whatever. It won't change anything. I don't need you anymore."
He abruptly pushed his ex-boyfriend away, shot him a glare full of hatred and headed to the door.
He would have expected to kill him with his words but, instead of keeping on crying, Francis wiped his tears with his ridiculous pink handkerchief and silence invaded the room.
"I must be strong now. He slowly said with a low voice. To forget our love. This is not the end of the world. La vie continue. I loved a guy named Arthur, but it seems this guy is long time gone."
Francis turned his back to Arthur. At least his butt was nice, Arthur couldn't help but think.
"You can go if you want so."
The Frenchman didn't turn his head.
Arthur thought about pinching his butt but eventually went out and slammed the door. A few neighbors had stepped out of their homes and were shooting him angry looks but Arthur didn't even gave them a glance. He laughed and danced in the stairs. Now he was free, free, FREE! He would never be asked for doing this or that anymore. Living by oneself, the unique way to happiness! By then, he had nowhere to sleep, but he didn't fucking care. He sat on the floor and lit up a more or less legal cigarette to celebrate this day.
Arthur woke up in a bed that was not his. He blinked and cursed the sunlight through the curtains or his hangover or both.
How much time had passed since he ditched Francis? One day? One week? One month? However.
Seeing how the room was clean, he guessed he was probably in a hotel room. He was perfectly alone.
Suddenly he remembered what awoke him a few seconds ago and he stood up.
He opened the door and found two guys waiting in the corridor. One was too tanned for a Brit, with brown hair and green eyes, and the other was albino type, white hair and red eyes. Both had weird expressions on their faces.
"Hi, dude. Can we speak? The brunette asked.
- You can. Arthur replied, making them understand they could stay speaking in the door frame by blocking the entrance with his body.
- Dude, you should get dressed." The albino said, pointing at the only cloth Arthur had on him –his Union Jack boxer shorts.
Arthur swore when he acknowledged it and eventually let them enter.
They sat on the two chairs in front of the bed and stared at him while he was getting dressed.
That was only when he was finished and sat on the bed that he recognized Antonio and Gilbert, respectively the bass and the singer-second guitar of the band.
Antonio, Spanish and 25 years old, was already married with a Belgian chick Arthur had forgotten the name, and had two kids he had tattooed the names on his arms –Lovino and Feliciano. Gilbert was also tattooed –mostly with incomprehensible gothic symbols- but had no wife –if we don't mention the Romanian- Bulgarian- Hungarian- whatever!- chick that cheated on him with another German like him or maybe Austrian and dumped him six months ago, stuff he would never go through- and no kids, thanks hell, but always claiming he was awesome and would get his bitch back someday. Anyway he was only 20 so he could still have dreams. Arthur didn't really like tattoos. He preferred piercings. Only Francis had neither tattoos nor piercings, because he had claimed "his natural beauty mustn't be altered". But Arthur didn't want to think about Francis.
"Man! You've screwed up everything! Gilbert started.
- And breaking up with Francis like that, after six years together, that was unthinkable! The niños are all worked up! Antonio cried. Que se pasa, amigo ?
- If it was just about Francis, it would be okay, but quitting the band! Stop acting like an loser and come back! We've got a new awesome album on the market and an awesome tour to prepare!
- Please, Arthur! Stay! Do it for the niños at least!"
But Arthur didn't listen to their begging. Niños or not niños, there was no question.
"I need a break. Arthur eventually said and blamed himself for this was not what he wanted exactly.
- So this doesn't mean you're leaving us forever! Antonio sighed with relief.
- A break until when?
- I don't know.
- I see… Antonio said.
- Hope it won't last too long. We've got a tour to make. Gilbert warned. I can insist to postpone the dates but not too much."
Eventually alone once again, he lay back on the bed and smiled to the ceiling. Peaceful life as he had always dreamed of.
But after a few minutes –hours? Days?-, Arthur started to feel sick. The ceiling was too white. Life was too peaceful now. Of course he missed his guitar, but there was something he was missing more than his guitar. When was the last time he had sex?
A feeling of deep frustration settled up into his mind and after other few hours of resistance, he surrendered because the thought of having sex just didn't want to get out.
His instincts guided him from his hotel room to the apartment he was used to share with Francis. He was not proud of what he was doing but his hunger was greater than his pride at this moment.
Francis slightly opened the door, allowing Arthur to barely see him and frowned.
"Good morning! Arthur smiled. Francis looked at his watch.
- Good morning, you. It's 8 in the evening in case you didn't notice.
- I have no watch. Arthur shrugged. Francis sighed with exasperation.
- What do you want? He asked abruptly.
- Oh, Arthur smirked, just to give you what I know you like… He murmured with a husky voice and approached his hand to press his thigh. Francis pushed his hand away like if it had burned him.
- No.
- Hey, man, that's just sex! Arthur said, not paying attention to how loud his voice was. You like it, okay?
- Arthur, no. Francis maintained.
- Wait, I ask for sex and you say NO?!
- Shhh, please! He ordered him and quickly gave an anxious look at something behind him.
- Hey! Arthur jumped to try to see what was behind him. You've brought a friend? Francis sighed and let a boy -the extra-shy type with glasses- appear next to him and put a protective arm around his shoulders.
- This is Matthieu.
- Cool! Long time no threesome stuff! You got to like it, Matthew!
- Qui est-ce? The boy asked to Francis.
- Un crétin. Ne fais pas attention à lui. He answered in French, to Arthur's great displeasure.
- Why the fuck he's speaking French?!
- Because he's Quebecker. French is his native language.
- Oh.
- Yes, oh.
- Well, we'll have fun anyway, won't we?
- Arthur. You didn't understand.
- I beg your pardon?
- He's my new boyfriend.
- What's wrong with that?
- I love him. And he loves me. And we've chosen a clean relationship, in the name of love. Can't you understand that, oui ou merde?!
- Hey, calm down, frog!
- YOU calm down, Arthur. Look, everyone is watching."
And he was true. All the neighbors were watching from their door frames with widened eyes. This evening again, there was a show that mustn't be missed.
"I-I don't fucking care!"
Arthur turned all red with anger. Why didn't he shut up and say yes like any guy or chick from Slutland should normally do? It was all Francis' fault after all.
"Franchement, Arthur. You're ridiculous. Stop it. C'est fini. Please do never come bother us again."
Francis' face was as impassible as a piece of marble. Arthur stared at him in the eye for a few seconds and unwillingly abandoned the battle with a sigh of rage.
He barely glared at the neighbors and they immediately locked their doors like if they were afraid he would attack them.
He went out of the building and kicked a bin. He liked the sound it made as it hit the ground but all the bins of the world wouldn't be enough to cover the cries of anger in his head. He bought a bottle of white rum, went back to his hotel room and drank it all in a few minutes.
As he started to feel the effects, he lay back on the bed and lost himself in a dreamless sleep.
The following morning, he woke up in the afternoon, and while he was trying to heal his hangover in the bathroom, an idea showed up in his head.
He needed to go. Go somewhere far from London.
Going in the country wouldn't be enough. France was out of question. Anyway, even Europe was too close. So, where?
"America." Arthur's thought came out of his mouth by itself.
America. Why not? He shrugged. He had enough money to spend at least a week in the United States, no matter where. Oh, by the way, where?
"New York? He asked. - Too busy. He answered to himself. - Chicago? - We're in October, man. Do you want your balls become ice? - Seattle? He tried. - Wow, going so far to feel like home! -So, where? Oklahoma? - And be a poor lonesome cowboy? – Hey, why not California? Good weather all year, very far from London, nice!"
Arthur agreed with the other Arthur smiling in the mirror of the bathroom in front of him and chose to take a plane ticket for San Francisco. He'll have at least one moment of peace without anyone pissing him off. How nice!
AN: I've tried my best to write Francis' complaining in English with French accent (as the person who dubs France in the English version of the anime is not French (I am SURE. Because in the episode of Busby's chair he says "quel connard" (what a cretin) and pronounces the final d that is a silent letter, and the accent he's speaking with is so strange that even me, a French, understands very badly LOL. When we're speaking English with deep French accent to have fun, this does not sound the same (but when we do this, no one but another French can understand lol). But at least he succeeded with the rrrr and some little stuff. But still, it really disappointed me! DX ) the best would have been having me in front of you speaking but unfortunately this is not possible hehe), but if you really didn't get what the fuck he said, here is the translation: "Why you leave me? Stay with me! What will I be without you? Don't leave me alone! Please…" See, I had a lot of fun writing like that!^^
And translations from the French: (I suppose you know what chéri, mon amour, pourquoi and je t'aime means… Oui? If you have questions don't hesitate to PM me, of course ;) )
Ne me laisse pas: Don't leave me – Tu sais: You know – La vie continue: Life keeps going on – Qui est-ce ?: Who is he/she? – Un crétin, ne fais pas attention à lui: An idiot, don't pay attention to him – Oui ou merde ?!: litt. Yes or shit ?! (actually this is an aggressive expression that leaves no choice to the other person. Arthur understands, or merde if he doesn't. I don't know if you understand what I am trying to say… It doesn't matter, oui? ^^ (see, in this case, there is still no choice but this is way less aggressive :) )) – Franchement: Frankly – C'est fini: It's finished/it's the end.
I'm in love with reviews ! 8D
