This is based off a roleplay I'm doing with a friend of mine, though I'll be changing a few details. Anyways, I'll try to update when I can, you know how inspiration and motivation can come and go. Reviews will help!
Characters belong to Himaruya Hidekaz, I don't own Hetalia.
Arthur was at his breaking point. His mother had died in an accident when he was three, leaving him with his father who was an abusive drunk and three older brothers who bullied him instead of protected him. He was tormented at school, too. After his mother's death, his family moved to the US and Arthur was put in a new school. Since Arthur was nine, he'd been picked on at school. When he graduated high school, his father wanted to move back to England. But Arthur didn't want to go back. In an attempt to escape, he entered a college in the States. His father and brothers moved back across the pond while Arthur stayed. Though that didn't stop them from calling Arthur constantly, almost like they were reminding him that they still existed. He thought things would get better once he started college, but his worst bully from middle and high school ended up at the same college and decided to make Arthur's life a living hell.
So there he was, sitting in his dorm room alone, a blade hovering above his wrist. His hand was shaking and tears threatened to fall. Did he really want to do this? Was this his only escape? He tried to run but his problems followed him. The blade inched closer, but just as it touched skin, there was a knock at his door.
The Briton gasped softly, his hand moving away from his wrist as he looked up to the door. He hid the blade in his nightstand drawer and quickly wiped the beginnings of tears away. But when he opened the door, there was no one there; just a package on the floor. He bent down and picked it up, turning it in his hands to examine it. There was no tag on it, nothing to tell him what it was or who had sent it. Maybe there would be a clue inside?
He closed the door, bringing the package in with him. He was a little excited and a little scared. Who would send him anything? He didn't have friends. Was this a prank? He wasn't sure what he was expecting exactly, but he was glad to see that it was just a book instead of a dead cat or something else horrible.
The book itself was simple but beautiful; black with gold trim and binding. There was no title, no print on the back, nothing to indicate the contents. He opened the book only to find it blank, except for the first page. It read, 'Everyone has the power to write their own story'. What the hell is this? Arthur didn't understand what this was supposed to mean. But at the moment, Arthur didn't care. He was too emotionally exhausted to think about the strange book. He set it down on his nightstand and turned in for an early night.
He didn't know why he brought it to class the next morning, but Arthur couldn't stop thinking about it as it sat in his little messenger bag. He was sitting in his required math class, spacing out. The Briton wasn't great at math but good enough that he could afford to not listen for a day. So he decided to take the book out of his bag, setting it on his desk in front of him. For a while he just stared at it. Was it some kind of journal? He supposed it could be anything he wanted it to be, it was blank. He could write down his feelings; he'd heard that it sometimes helped to put your thoughts and feelings on paper. Or he could write a story?
Arthur is an English major and he wanted to be a writer someday, so this could be good practice. Sure, why not? He just had to come up with a good story to write down. He didn't want to waste the book on something awful. Anyone who looked at Arthur writing in his book would think that he was taking notes, so no one bothered him.
Throughout Arthur's life he'd never had someone he could be close to; No friends, no family that loved him after his mother died. He'd always wanted a companion, someone to talk to, someone to love him. So the first thing he did was start creating a character, an imaginary friend of sorts to go on adventures with in his story.
The man would be about his age, 18, but would be a little taller than him. Arthur was around 5'9", this man would be 5'11". He would have wheat blond hair, parted from his right side. It would be neater than Arthur's own wild hair, but would look purposely disheveled. He'd have groomed blond eyebrows and silver wire framed glasses. And behind those specs would be a gorgeous pair of blue eyes, like the deep ocean but with a little light still shining through the surface of the water. The blond would be muscular; a jock maybe, someone who could've gotten a football scholarship. But that didn't mean he'd be academically challenged. He would be skilled in math, science, maybe even history. And he took art as an extracurricular in high school, at first as an easy A class but found that he really enjoyed it. Arthur imagined that this guy would've been fairly popular in high school; joined many clubs along with whatever sport was in season, made friends easily, dated a lot. He would be approachable, kind, have a beautiful bright smile.
Arthur stopped writing and hummed in thought. He'd put a lot of effort into creating an appearance and a personality, but he hadn't even thought up a name yet. The Briton tapped his pencil against the table, nibbling his lower lip. He tossed a few names around his head for a couple minutes before he finally wrote one down.
Alfred Jones
With his nose buried in his book, Arthur didn't notice the classroom door open, a student walking into class late. He gave a small wave of apology to the professor as he went up a set of steps to find an empty seat. An empty seat which he found next to a bushy haired blond guy that didn't have anyone sitting next to him. He was still pretty new, having started school a semester late, so he didn't know the guy. He sure seemed focused on whatever he was writing in his notebook. The new student sat down, setting his backpack down next to his feet. He glanced at the notebook the guy was writing in and didn't see any math equations. Raising a curious eyebrow, he tapped the other on the shoulder. "That sure doesn't look like math. What are you writing?" he asked. He always did let his curiosity get the better of him.
Arthur jumped slightly in surprise at the tap to his shoulder. People didn't usually sit next to him and he didn't even notice that anyone had come over. He was about to respond, but when he looked up at the boy next to him, the words were caught in his throat. He had wheat blond hair, wire framed glasses, gorgeous blue eyes—
He looked just like what he imagined the Alfred in his story to look like.
Arthur tried to speak, but his mind was too busy trying to process what he was seeing. It had become apparent that he wasn't going to answer anytime soon, so the man chuckled (god he had a beautiful smile, and Arthur could listen to that laugh for hours).
"My name is Alfred, what's yours?"
I hope you liked this first chapter, even though it was short. Future chapters will hopefully be longer! Again, please review, it makes it all worth it. I hope to be updating this and publishing other new things soon, and updating my Moulin Rouge story (I'm sorry, please don't kill me).
Until next time!
