Hiya!
I can't not write fanfiction. It's a guilty pleasure that makes me oh so satisfied and I don't think I'll be letting go of it XD
Anyway! I've had this written ages ago but never thought about posting it- until today! I've fixed it up- the later chapters are still in progress though- and hope that you enjoy it!
It's a small-town AU where everyone's littered about Loneville- or, as you will later come to know it: Loonyville. I'm very open to ideas on this story- I've got the general picture of how it's going to end up, but, if there's anything- absolutely ANYTHING- you want to see, please please tell me. Even if it's something as simple as Belarus carrying a bag embroidered with berries to something as big as… well… the Statue of Liberty. Or Burj Dubai, if you must. So, I'm very open to ideas- even pairings! I'm very lax with pairings- there are some that I just can't decide on (Franada or Prucan? PruHun or AusHun, LietPol or LietBel? Etc… that sort of thing) so, after reading through, if you're really rooting for a couple, then give me a shout and let me know which and why.
Anyway, this story is definitely going to have USUK, GerIta, Dennor, AusHun (bit of PruHun?) SuFin… and… that's all I can think of now. But those are the basics. The others are still undergoing decisive debates in my head. Plus, I have nyotalia included.
Enough with my rambling- on with the story!
Chapter 1 Seven Years Long
Amelia didn't know why her family decided to pack up and leave seven years ago, but they did. Whenever she brought it up, her Dad would laugh as loudly as he usually would while her Uncle Matthew used his unbelievable talent to simply fade out of the view of the conversation. Either way, Maddie had given up on finding out and tried to encourage her to do the same- but she vehemently defied. Even more so when she saw her Dad throwing their luggage into the car with a big beaming smile announcing that they were moving back to good ole Loneville.
She never forgot Loneville. It was home. She could remember their small house with the fenced garden, the wild flowers and the tree house that sat on the foot of a huge oak tree in the back of the house. She could remember the primary school, the colourful classrooms and the laughter in the family day fairs. She could remember costume days at school, Halloween down the streets and the local Christmas lighting of the tree that stood in the middle of the tiny town.
And Arthur.
She could definitely remember Arthur. Green eyes, thick eyebrows and a really, really sour expression on his face whenever he saw her. He grew up next door and sometimes, she'd take a soccer ball- or football, as he called it- and drag him down to the park after lunch. He was fun when he wasn't moody and Amelia could embarrassingly remember giving him a Valentines card when she was seven. Would he still be there, in that cream house behind the picket fence? Or did he end up leaving, just as she did?
"We're here! Home sweet home!" Dad announced, banging open the door.
It was as though they had never left.
She could remember eating towering pancakes with Maddie every Sunday morning while watching Roadrunner on the mounted TV in the kitchen. She could remember trying to slide down the banister before falling off halfway and breaking her arm. She could remember inviting the whole class for her sixth birthday and could remember completely forgetting about Maddie's eighth. She could remember doing her science project on rocks with her Dad or painting a huge donkey with Uncle Matthew for Family Fun Day in the small primary school.
Maddie was already in her room. It was once covered in painted maple leaves polar bears. Now, it was cream and bare and empty. Amelia's own room, down the hall, had been covered in her hand-drawn pictures and a chaotic mess of toys. Now, it was cream and blank and silent.
She set down her backpack.
She felt at home, but she felt alone. Arthur could've changed as easily as her painted bedroom. He might've grown into someone she couldn't stand. What about Kiku? He was really quiet but he had the best videogames. Or Im Yong Soo and his twin brother, both of whom were always bubbling with energy? There was that Cuban girl that Amelia remembered despising but still didn't mind seeing for familiarity's sake- or that creepy Russian who wore the same purple scarf through summer and winter and had a nasty habit of eating the glue sticks in kindergarten.
"Amelia! Furniture dudes brought in boxes with all the clothes- come check which one of them are yours!"
"Didn't you label them?"
"Course not, Mat! Ain't nobody got time for that!"
"Hey, why the long face?" said her Dad the moment she came into sight. "Thought you'd be happy to come back."
"I am," she meandered to the big brown boxes. Maybe she was a little bit scared. Maybe she was a little bit uneasy. Maybe she was worried she wasn't going to be able to belong to the town she longed to return to- wasted all those years dreaming for something she wasn't going to fit in into.
"I'm off, if that's ok."
Maddie was at by the door giving a quick wave. Uncle Matthew bid her to take care but Amelia cocked a questioning head and asked to where on earth her cousin could be running off.
"Oh, I just thought I'd wander around for a bit. See the old hockey pitch I used to play in and the Primary school… do you want to come?"
"Nah, I'm ok," Amelia shook her head glumly. Maddie looked slightly surprised and slightly concerned before nodding and walking out the door. With a heavy sigh, Amelia slit the sellotape and began to aimlessly shuffle through the trinkets.
"Amelia," Uncle Matthew's soft smile. "Go wander around for a bit. You'll feel much happier."
Her Dad was blinking at them both from the corner. Matthew's understanding eyes and quiet smile made her set down whatever was in her hand. She wrapped her shirt around her waist as she walked out the house, her pink tank top baggy and long over her ripped shorts, and made sure the little clips in her hair weren't dangling. This was home. She couldn't be sad. This was what she had been dreaming about since the day they had left- to come back and finally be here again. She lost contact with almost everyone: Yong Soo, Kiku, her Lithuanian former best friend whom she couldn't remember his name (but he really liked that weird scary girl when they were little)… and Arthur. Especially Arthur.
Hence, she found herself in front of the pale brown door that was reminiscent of too many afternoons beckoning for the park and many mornings beckoning for school. She stiffened and gave herself a good scolding, you're Amelia E Jones for heaven's sake! and gave the door a good knock.
Step.
Step.
Step. Step.
Step.
Amelia bit her lip. What would she say?
She blanched. She felt cold fear douse her. What on earth was she going to say-?!
"Yes?"
A woman.
Blonde, weary with slight bags under her eyes. Though her eyebrows weren't thick, her worn-out eyes were a vivid green that made Amelia feel as though she was eight, it was half-past seven and she was begging her for Arthur to come over for a movie-night.
"Mrs Kirkland?" she gave a small, excited smile. "Do you remember me?"
The woman blinked, gave her another good look before widening the door. "Amelia?" she looked so tired even though she smiled, "so… you came back. Well then… good to see you."
"I'm here to see Arthur…"
"Right, right," she laughed, "of course you did- you haven't changed."
She was expected a hug- or at least a little more excitement. But Mrs Kirkland beckoned her inside with the voice of a woman who hadn't slept in centuries. The house looked the same- the flowered wallpaper, the vases, the bookshelves- but felt empty and felt… hushed.
"Arthur isn't here right now, but he should be back. Have a cup of tea though," Amelia sat by the kitchen table. She felt like a child pushed into a room of glaring, accusing eyes. "So, when did you move back?"
"Few minutes ago actually," the kitchen table was cluttered with textbooks, papers and multicoloured pens. "You teach?"
"Oh, I'm a professor now- College right on the outskirts. Literature," she handed Amelia a steaming cup. The tea seemed watery and Mrs Kirkland looked exhausted. She was once a pretty lady. Now, looking at her thin, stressed figure as she sorted the papers, Amelia started to wonder if her memories weren't misshapen by all the time she spent away. Had she always looked so sickly?
"My Dad got a job there," said Amelia, "he teaches Physics."
"Alfred?" Mrs Kirkland smiled. It slightly reached her eyes if they weren't so throttled by fatigue. "And Matthew, I suppose?"
"Yup, and my cousin Maddie. All decided to run back…"
"Hm."
It was slightly awkward. Mrs Kirkland didn't sit. Instead, she leant against the counter with a hand against her temple. She looked worried. Amelia remembered praying for her Dad to fall in love with Arthur's Mum so that they would all live together. She remembered staying for after dinner more than once and could remember wishing she had a Mum like Arthur's. She wasn't the best cook but she was the best storyteller.
The door creaked open. Footsteps in the house.
"That's… just a moment. I'll tell him…" Mrs Kirkland rushed out the kitchen. She looked anxious. "Arthur- someone's here to see you."
"I don't want to see anyone."
Amelia's stomach tightened. He sounded… different.
"It's Amelia."
She craned her ears. There was a thudding of footsteps, muttering and a hushed whisper- a plea- from his mother's tired, tired voice. He sounded different… he looked the same. Just, taller. He had that same messy blonde hair, those same green eyes, those same lanky arms and those same, trademark eyebrows.
"Arthur!"
She burst. All her previous fear converted itself into excitement and, without a second's thought, she jolted up and threw her arms around him.
Much taller.
She couldn't see his face but from the way he stiffly stood, as though someone had just rammed a pipe down his spine, made her realize was a bit too forward. Tact had never been her strongest point so, when he still didn't hug her back she pulled away, looked him in the eye, "aren't you going to hug me back?" and watched his freckled face flame up.
He gave her an awkward pat, eyes completely averted, but she laughed nonetheless because he had always been shy and grumpy and sour but, on the inside, was nice to her.
"I just moved back! Come on, you can help me unpack- I haven't seen you in ages!" she dragged him out the kitchen, "see you Mrs Kirkland!" she waved at the pale, shocked looking woman by the door, "or how about we grab an ice- cream! I've missed those little ice-cream trucks around Middle Park- they have the best ice-cream ever! I think I should get two cones since I haven't had one in, like, forever and-"
"Hold it!" Arthur yanked his hand back. They were in the middle of the street. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Dragging you for some ice-cream, duh," said Amelia.
"You haven't seen me in seven years and now you're just- just- " he looked flustered. He looked annoyed. He looked confused.
"Yeah," she took his hand again, just as she used to years ago, "that's why we're going to get some ice-cream together. Because we didn't do that for seven years," she threw a hand on her hip and gave a loud bark of laughter, "come on, Arthur! Didn't you miss me?" she gave him another good yank.
His face was red again and he sputtered indignantly before pulling his hand back- she aimed for it once more- missed- and paced back slightly.
She noticed, at the moment, as the afternoon sun beat down on his flushed skin, how his right eyebrow was sliced and there were white scars running down his cheeks and temples, crawling up and hiding under his blonde hair.
"Where'd you get that from?" she went closer to him, tiptoed, "you never had those."
He let a hand brush against the skin of his cheek- his fingers were scarred, his nails were viciously bitten- and looked as weary as his mother did. She watched him bite his lip- his teeth landing perfectly on the numerous scars on that dry skin- and watched his green eyes fret in a quick scurry of thoughts.
Then, he looked at her.
And when he did, she realized just how sad he really was. It was childish of her to think that seven years gone by changed nothing. Seven years had changed everything.
"Look," softer now, "you should go unpack. I'd offer to help but I'm…"
"Let's go get some ice-cream Arthur," she said. She didn't take his hand. She pulled the sleeve of his arm. Let's… get to know each other again.
She had no idea where she was.
Maddie thought she knew exactly where the primary school was. Go down the road from the house, into the Middle Park, out through the right entrance, down the road, to the left of the traffic lights where the red-bricked primary school was. There, there was a small football pitch and a small indoor gym.
She finally flopped herself onto the nearest bench. She had crossed, trekked and jogged through Middle Park at least thrice now and had no clearer idea than when she first started.
She fiddled with her maple necklace and watched some children run across the green, leaping over the small hedged and tackling each other in fits of giggles. She didn't have much friends when she was younger. She was too timid and too shy and ended up being overlooked in everything except for hockey. But there was Clara, a cheery Cuban girl, and she was always nice to her. There was Jeanne who was just as timid as Maddie had been but, so nice and so sweet. There was also-
"Francis?"
It had to be Francis.
He was walking across the park, clad in black, his hair billowing gently around his face. If the skies were tinged silver and the grass tinged with a luminous golden glow, then he would be the example of the perfect model of the year. Though he had a confidence in his step, he had walked as though there were cracks down his back. Though he had his arms swaying freely by his sides, his shoulders slightly hunched.
The last time she had seen him was during her late eighth birthday- that everyone had forgotten hence, they had to host a belated party- when he told a small Jeanne that she looked like an angel in her white dress and tried to kiss her. Jeanne burst into tears and Francis ended up in a fistfight with a teasing Arthur.
He looked deep in thought. She couldn't call out for him. But, when he looked up and caught her eye she gave a tiny, feeble wave, her cheeks promptly reddening.
He smiled and, if they were in a high-definition screening of a movie, it would've been the perfect opportunity for roses to start blooming out of the horizon. Some people were too beautiful to be real, thought Maddie as she picked herself up and made her way towards him, suddenly conscious of her thick glasses, messy hair and freckly nose.
"Madeleine!" he enveloped her into a hug. She tried to hide the squeak of surprise. Her glasses almost fell off her nose. He smelt like roses. "You look so different," he pulled her away and gave her a quick spin. She felt overwhelmed already. "But I'd never not recognize you, cherie," he kissed her hand with a flamboyant smile, leaving a stinging on her skin.
"It's good… to see you too-"
"Of course! Of course," he draped an arm around her shoulders and, complying, her legs started to follow him, "when did you move back?"
"Few hours ago, actually-"
"Ah! Really? As a French gentleman, it is my duty to offer my help-"
"No, it's alright, really," she couldn't take the blush off her skin. "How have you been?"
"Bien," he smiled. When he looked at her, she remembered how blue his eyes really were. "Not bad," but they never had this tint to it- this glassy indifference on their edges, as though they had been slightly damaged. "You just picked yourself up and left."
"Yeah… I mean no- my Dad and uncle did. Amelia and I never wanted to," they were sitting on another bench now. This time it was closer to the centre of the park where an ancient sycamore stood, flanked by blooms of raucous summer flowers and open, glimmering, golden-green patches of grass. "Were you off somewhere…?"
"Hm?"
There were flowers in his hand. Lilies. Big and white and beautiful. He caught her gaze and wilted slightly.
"Oui… well," he tucked a few strands of hair behind his ear and tugged at the back of his neck. "I'd rather not say. It's… not exactly happy and you just came back. I wouldn't want to dampen the mood," he smiled again, but this time, the edge of indifference had throttled the blue of his eyes, casting a hue of melancholia over the blue. "How is your French? You used to take afterschool French classes?"
"It's not that good," her eyes were still on the lilies. They felt haunting. "I haven't practiced in years I…" his smile seemed forced and his eyes were hurting her. "I hope I'm not holding you up from anything."
Maddie stood, brows drawn and chest tightened with this sudden pain. His expression was sending needles down her skin. There was something around him- something cold and desolate draping over him- something destroyed and broken and bleeding- that made spiders run up her skin. He swallowed and looked down, white hands tightening around the lilies.
"I was going to the cemetery actually," a whisper carried by the wind. "It's her anniversary," he gave a little laugh to correct himself. It sounded like a dry sob. "Anniversary of her death, that is."
Whose death?
She soon found out.
She stood at the edge of the grave. It was covered in flowers and the tombstone had been cleaned. Francis lay down the lilies at the heart of the grave, made sure they looked up towards the skies, and rested a hand on the cold marble with a few silent whispers. His French was impeccable and hers was rusty with lack of use. She caught 'missing you' 'thinking of you' and 'love you' but missed the breaths in between.
Maddie swallowed.
Jeanne had been a sweet girl. She always sang during the school plays and had a kindness in her soul that made her as light and as feathery as an angel. She always made sure to play with Maddie, who had a habit of being forgotten in the playground, and invited her over to bake pastries with herself and Francis in the kitchen of her family's modest house.
She was dead.
She was fifteen.
She was young.
And when Maddie turned to look at Francis- Francis who stared at the cover of flowers over the wretched dirt with a gaze as hollow and as lost as the hapless blind- she could think of nothing that could have an ounce of the mourning he held inside. So she clasped her fingers and kept her eyes lowered so she wouldn't see the stray tear coming down his cheek. She clasped her fingers and kept her eyes lowered while she cursed at the seven years that had created a wedge inside her, so deep, that couldn't feel the loss of the sweet girl who sang sweetly with a smile as sweet as the stars.
"I hope I wasn't intruding," she said softly. They were in a small café by in the modest, simple local mall. There were only three shops there anyway.
"Don't talk as if we're strangers," said Francis, spooning sugar into his coffee and waving his free hand. She flushed. "Do you still play hockey?"
"Oh, you remember?"
"Of course," he scoffed, "you shot the puck at my face. Never forgot."
She was seven and she had been excited. Her father was mad into hockey and he passed it down to her. She loved him so much and she wanted her passion for the sport to be equal to his. In a way, she wanted to be closer to him. In a way, she wanted to be like him.
"Do you still like to bake? You had that pastry-shop dream when we were little..." His smile was strained. She could remember Jeanne's cheeks brushed with flour and the idle gravestone under the sun. "Um… ah… Amelia's back too," her heart was jittering.
"I guessed that," he nodded, sipping his coffee.
"Really?" Maddie felt putdown with that. She wasn't attached to her cousin and didn't like the idea of people thinking they were attached.
Francis watched her deteriorating expression with amusement. He jerked a quick hand to the distance, "she's right there."
In the distance, on a bench on the outskirts of the iron fence of Middle Park, was Amelia. A vanilla ice-cream cone in hand, she chattered radiantly to a weary, gaunt looking Arthur.
"Is that Arthur?"
He didn't look like the Arthur Maddie remembered. Sure that Arthur was grumpy but he was happy. A child who laughed when he played and though he never exactly matched Amelia in exuberance, she always entertained him. But to see him looking so perplexed and so tired… it made him look as though the seven years that had washed them away took their toll. It made Maddie realize how, even though Francis had said they weren't strangers, they actually were. Eight and eighteen were completely different numbers.
Francis wasn't looking at the two anymore. He was looking at the black depths of his coffee with a bitterness lingering on his lips and a tightness in his throat.
"Madeleine? I would… I know Amelia thinks Arthur's…" he spooned more sugar into his coffee. He seemed disturbed. "I'm only… saying this because it's true," it took him a while before his hesitant eyes reached hers. "He's," he jerked his head. His hair was effortless, "not the same. He's… he changed a lot."
"What do you-"
"He's not a good person," a whisper. It was as soft as the lilies that sat on the sheet of flowers upon the grave of dirt. "Not anymore." His fingers brushed against hers. She tried to quell the tremble. "He-"
His phone rang. Their fingers parted and Maddie swallowed. Was it from the heat or was it from fear? She feared the Frenchman and his sad eyes but she feared the changed Englishman who bode an ill warning- an omen- over his blonde head now that Francis had spoken to her.
"Bonjour- yes. I'm all right… I'm ok," he ran a hand through his hair. There was a ring around his middle finger: silver and carved with something she couldn't quite see. "No not now- I'm catching up with an old friend," the smile he sent her shudders run up her spine. It was so casual and so boyish yet so natural and so fleeting. "Yes, I have other friends apart from you-"
The other end of the line became louder and incomprehensible. Francis simply shut it, silenced it and tucked it back into his pocket without much care.
"Do you remember Antonio and Gilbert?" Of course she did. Francis was generally a nice little boy when he was with Jeanne or herself. But, with the little Spaniard and the littler German, he would transform to quite the demon. She didn't know Antonio much but Gilbert used to sneak his pet chick into the classroom and had a nasty streak of trying to balance it on her head or tangle it into her hair. "I might meet up with them by the park. You're free to come if you'd like."
"Thanks, but I really do have to go home," she definitely wouldn't want to meet up with the other two. It would be a bit too awkward and there was that childish fear that her three childhood demons would've followed her through the years.
"CIAO! BELLA! BELLA! TU SEI L'UNICO PER ME! IO E TE PER SEMPRE IF YOU COME TO ME, BELLISIMA! I'LL SHOW YOU AROUND, IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN- BELLA! WAIT!"
Maddie stood. First, she had no idea what was happening. Second, she had no idea what to do. She simply walked into the classroom before some random auburn haired boy, sitting on his desk, starting shouting his head off, waving his arms maniacally around his head. Every single other person in the classroom seemed completely unfazed by the insane display of unbelievable energy.
Suddenly, the boy took in a deep, deep gasp and his fluttering eyes actually widened enough for her to see the glimmers of hazel. He leapt off the desk- quite impressively, to be honest- and made a beeline for her, his arms wide-open. He pounced on her and gripped her in the tightest and most enthusiastic hug she had ever experienced her life- even her uncle didn't have that much energy and he was usually lively- and gave her two solid kisses on each cheek.
He was Italian.
"Maddie! I remember you! You came back! You look so pretty! I had no idea you came back! When did you come back? You look so different! I knew something was different today! Sit down! Where did you go? Why did you come back? Did you not like the food there? I know if I don't like the food somewhere I'd never go there! That's why the only place I ever visit is Italy because Italy has the best food, the prettiest girls and the best weather in the whole world! Did you go to Italy too? But if you went to Italy you wouldn't be back so you can't have gone to Italy-" he took another dramatic gasp. "You went to Germany, didn't you? Germany has terrible food. I had lunch at Monika's house yesterday and it was disgusting- all that potatoes and their disgusting sausages."
He sat back on the desk and chattered away, his hands flying all around him as he gesticulated excitedly. Feliciano. It was nice to see that some people never change, thought Maddie with a relieved smile. Once again, Feliciano flung himself off the desk like a lithe bird- or a very insane cat- and sprinted towards the tall, buff girl who just walked in.
"Monika! I was just talking about you! I was telling Maddie- who came back, well, I don't really know when, but she came back- about lunch yesterday and how German food is really disgusting and that's why she shouldn't go to Germany because she'll end up coming back- or maybe she lived in Germany for a bit and that's why she came back- hey!" he gave her a wink, "you look really pretty today! You did something with your hair!"
"Feliciano, I'm in the mood today," she marched towards her seat and placed her books on the table with restraint anger.
"But, why not? Are you sad?" He peered over her shoulder until he was nose-to-nose with her.
Maddie thought, for a second, that the two must be a couple before Monika's face suddenly became red and she bellowed, "what do you think you're doing?!" pushing him away with the thrust of her toned, powerful arm.
Feliciano tumbled back- only to be caught by his darker haired brother.
"Watch where you're going, idiota!" he pushed his brother away forcefully, making Feliciano tumbled forward against a fuming Monika. "And you! Push him again kraut and I'll make- EH!" the threat died on Lovino's lips the moment Monika stood and he made a beeline towards a laughing blonde-haired girl.
Feliciano retook his seat on the table- this time on the angry German girl's desk- and chattered away nonchalantly. The door opened to let in a hyper looking Korean- with the latest beats hanging around his neck and the shiniest K-pop shirt on his front- torpedoed into the classroom in a fit of animated laughter. Then, Kiku quietly entered, sitting next to both Feliciano and Monika and, immediately, Maddie could feel that they were the trio of the class.
The class bubbled around her. It was lively. It was bursting. They were all talking to each other with such familiarity that she felt a pang of annoyance for all the years that had gone. She could've been a little bit more comfortable in this classroom with the people she had grown up with had they not left.
Suddenly, the door slammed open once more, but with an air of unease. One of the teachers came in, wringing her fingers, and somberly let her old eyes on the questioning faces in front of her. Nothing could be more amazing than the speed at which the classroom was drained.
"We've…" she cleared her throat and straightened up. "We've received new that a student of ours… a classmate of yours… has…" she licked her lips. "It's very unfortunate and a devastating loss to us all-"
"Who died this time?"
It wasn't said maliciously. It was said bluntly. It was said painfully.
Lovino stood, his arms crossed over his chest, his face unbelievably sour.
"Fratello-" Feliciano said softly.
"I'm fucking sick and tired of hearing about people dying every fucking morning-" Lovino stormed out of the classroom.
Maddie swallowed spines.
The teacher closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath.
"Clara Sanchez has… has passed away. She was a young girl, and I'm sure we will all miss her…"
Stunned.
Clara.
Clara?
She was dark-skinned and spoke fluent Spanish. She was confident and sometimes, as loud as Amelia had been in class. She loved ice-cream, coconuts, Hawaiian shirts and all things summery. Maddie had gone to the beach with her family a few times over the summer and they played so much volleyball that their forearms were sore and stinging and swollen in the morning. Amelia never liked her, but then again, Amelia never liked anyone who competed with her and Clara surely did. But Maddie liked her. They were good friends. They were really good friends. Her mother made nice coconut pancakes and her father played with trinkets in the garage.
Maddie could hear them whispering behind her. She could hear them talking. Overdose, they said, and messed up.
It was ironic how a girl with a confident, beaming smile could be reduced to three constant, reverberating words. It was scary to think that there was a world out there that was able to destroy a person who, as a child, seemed unbreakable and untouchable.
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