Chapter 1
The dull hum of the TV was the only thing Arthur wanted to hear that evening. No late night screaming from the neighbour's kids, no incessant beeping of passing cars, and certainly no damn people knocking on his door asking for something or other. He was sick of this country before he even came here, and he spent as much time as possible in the sanctuary of his strictly British house. No Americans. No kids.
*ding-dong*
God damn it.
He decided to ignore it, they usually give up. Probably just some scouts asking for money for brownies, or brownies for money, whatever. He expected the adults of the road had told their kids to avoid this particular detached house, but apparently someone didn't get the message.
Another ring.
"Go away, no one's home." He muttered, head cocked to one side as he stared blankly at the TV. He wondered dully if he should switch his tea for brandy for the night, but he figured it was still slightly too early. He breathed out a long sigh he hadn't realised he had in him.
Yet another ring.
He growled impatiently and stood to make his way towards the door, shuffling past spindly coffee tables and ornamentals cluttering the living room space. He supposed they might be considered quite old-fashioned, but every time an aunt or some great grandfather dies, he's the one to take their antiques. His family didn't have the heart to just throw them out and they never got around to selling them off, so they ended up sending them to Arthur's house; piling up in almost every available space.
He reached the door and spent a good five minutes unbolting it from the top of the door all the way to the bottom, and said hoarsely "Alright, alright! Hold your frigging horses" as another infuriating *ding-dong* rang in his ears.
He cracked the door open. "What?" He said bluntly, glaring at the blue-eyed teenager littering his front door-step.
His forlorn face immediately lit up, and a bright annoying voice started, "Hey, I'm handing out flyers for my bro's new coffee shop down the road and-" Arthur slammed the door in his face, and smirked at the cracked white paint for a while before turning away. He reckoned it wouldn't be too bad if he just added a bit of brandy to the tea. It was about four, after all.
*ding-dong*
Arthur turned around to glare at the door, baffled by the boy's persistence. He stalked over and pulled the door open to yell at the brat, until he was interrupted.
"Hi there, you must have accidentally slipped or something." He watched Arthur with something akin to entertainment behind his glasses, and Arthur felt his temper flare. No, no, he's just some kid, and he obviously doesn't live around this area.
"Anyway, like I was saying, my brother just opene-" Arthur had the pleasure of once again slamming the door in the insistent American's face, and was just about to return to the living room again, when-
The door rang three more times, one after another.
He huffed impatiently. Who does that brat think he is? He stomped over to the door, knocking down a rack of vintage records before almost ripping the door of it's hinges.
"Go away kid." He hissed, leaning out into the cold winter air to glare at the exuberant looking teen, who, to his utter annoyance, grinned back. Arthur vaguely noted passers by watching him a little oddly, and he reminded himself why he hated going outside. If it wasn't his accent, it was his eyebrows, and if it wasn't his eyebrows, it was his surly attitude.
"I just wanted to tell you, that my brother opened-"
"Your brother opened a bloody coffee shop down the god damned road! I know, now would you kindly remove yourself from my doorstep, thank you." He slammed the door a third time, spending a good five minutes grumbling and cursing all the way back to the sofa, knocking over piles and stacks of god-knows-what in his haste to get away from the door.
He slumped back in his seat, knocking off a collection of 1950's English beer mats from the armrest. He muttered more curses as he bent to pick them all back up, trying to forget about the irritating confrontation with the American teen. He just wanted to be alone, to be allowed to sew or drink tea or watch as much telly as he wanted without the damn interruption of stupid kids, with their stupid flyers and religions-
*ding-dong*
He would ignore it. He couldn't ring the doorbell all day. There were other houses down this street, after all, and he would eventually have to go home. He leant back into his chair, wondering exactly where the wooden hat rack beside the TV actually came from; he didn't even remember which deceased family member had owned such an ancient thing.
Another ring from the doorbell, and Arthur's eyebrow twitched as he tipped a little extra brandy into his tea.
Several consecutive rings later, Arthur abandoned the tea and decided to just drink straight from the flask. No need to be a gentleman alone in your own home. He sighed contentedly after a long draught, the room taking on a heavy blur.
Much better, he thought, dozing off in the comfort of the armchair before the TV.
Arthur glared blearily through the grimy window above the sink as he washed his hands. He'd woken up to a darkened room and his lap and hands soaked from the flask, with the telly still buzzing loudly in it's age.
He dried his hands on a faded towel and skirted round a stack of Royal family photo albums on a chair to get to the back door. When he finally forced the skeleton key to turn in the lock, he pulled the door open despite it's protests and stepped into the overgrown back garden. He felt no need to clear it; he preferred to stay inside as much as possible, and he hated the way the neighbours always tried to make awkward small talk over the waist-high picket fences this district could barely afford. They never stayed long enough in the area for Arthur to make note of them anyway. Or maybe he had just been here a bit too long.
"Hey! You never took my flyer yesterday!" An annoying voice filtered through his ears, almost numbing is brain. He tuned to see the kid leaning over the picket fence of the house to his left, a grin plastered on his face when he saw Arthur's scowl, which deepened when he saw it had no effect on the teen.
"Leave me alone." He replied sourly, already wishing he'd never left the safety of the house to sit in the garden.
"I brought you one anyway. He's always nagging me to get him some more customers and hand flyers round people's houses." The kid continued despite the prolonged glare directed his way.
"Interesting" Arthur muttered in a monotone voice, leaning back in his seat to listen to the leaves rustle in the trees, and block out the voice pestering him.
"Yeah. 'Cept most people just ignore me or send me a weird look." He kept talking despite the fact that Arthur was pointedly ignoring him, and had even closed his eyes to enjoy the sun on his eyelids.
"Can't imagine why." Arthur drawled sarcastically, hoping the teen would get the hint. There was no reply for a while and he dared to open an eye to peek at him, and noticed what he was wearing.
He snorted, "Well maybe if you dressed, ah, a little more this century then maybe people wouldn't avoid you like the black plague."
"Hey I never said they avoided me, they just sort of- well you're not exactly the most popular guy on the street either!" He accused, his voice indignant.
Arthur just 'mm-ed' and the boy chuckled, much to his annoyance. There was a silence, and Arthur had almost forgotten the teen was there when he happened to speak again.
"My name's Alfred by the way."
"Why are you still here?" Arthur said exasperatedly, still refusing to acknowledge the boy by opening his eyes.
"What's your name?" Alfred responded, ignoring Arthur's comment. It was like they were having two separate conversations, and Arthur was refusing to relent.
Well, he was, until he received a few pokes to the face.
"Hey, you asleep old man?" Arthur's eyes shot open, and he glared into the face of the blue-eyed teen leaning over him and staring into his face. Arthur could see his indignation reflected in the boy's dated glasses, and he spluttered.
"I am not an old man!" Alfred just snorted as a response and stood straight, Arthur added, "and why are you in my garden? Get out."
"So how old would you be then, dude? I'm guessing like, fifty, what with your freaky accent."
"Yes, because all of the English are fifty years of age."
"Is that like, English sarcasm?"
"It's just sarcasm, you imbecile. Now get out or I will be forced to call the police."
"Wait, so you are English?" He looked genuinely intrigued.
"Can you not tell? No wait, get out first!" Arthur demanded, standing to confront the teen.
"Why would I be able to tell?" He looked blankly at Arthur, then his eyes went wide and he suddenly exclaimed, "Oh! That explains why you can-"
Arthur interrupted him, at his wits end, and dragged the boy by his faded brown suspenders (Suspenders! in this day and age! …Whatever that happened to be nowadays) out down the side of the house and pushed him onto the street. A woman walking her dog past his decrepit-looking house stopped to stare openly at Arthur, not taking note of the teen flailing about on the floor, his arms waving erratically as he yelled at Arthur.
"Hey, what the hell!" Alfred exclaimed, getting to his feet.
"Stay away from my house and stay away from me. Thank you, and goodbye." Arthur said sternly, looking Alfred in the eye and ignoring the woman, then turned and walked back into his house via the open back door.
Alfred had just enough time to yell, "You forgot your flyer!" before a door was slammed for the fourth time that day, by a tired and very irritated Arthur Kirkland.
He sighed heavily, annoyed at having to talk to someone again in the same week- never mind the same day. He'd given up on society and it's many flaws, the way people can't be together without arguing over something. Without fighting and hurting innocent people, hurting them so much they can't even bear to leave their house, or stand to talk to someone for more than 5 minutes…
Arthur started when he realised he had been leaning against the doorframe and sliding down it, until he was kneeling on the floor staring at the carpet. He staggered back to his feet and pulled the curtains above the sink down sharply, backing away and leaning against the kitchen side. He went round the entire house locking windows and closing all the curtains, then bolted both doors securely and went back into the living room. He sighed wearily and ran a hand through his scraggly blond hair, then went to bed.
It was well past noon before Arthur pulled himself from his bed. The floorboards creaked horrendously as he tiptoed around black bags on his floor to get to the bathroom for a cold shower. 6 minutes later, he descended the stairs and made his morning (or rather, noon) cup of tea, then turned to enter the living room when he suddenly dropped said tea.
"Morning!" It said loudly.
"What the f-" Arthur stammered.
"I was wondering; how come your only waking up at 12? Not very punctual, man." He cut him off. He was still dressed in his strange clothes and wearing the same goofy smile he had the previous day. He looked excited, almost ecstatic and Arthur felt a headache coming on. Hadn't he locked the doors?
"You okay dude?" Alfred said, blinking and leaning towards him. He stepped closer to peer into Arthur's tired green eyes, then testing the temperature of his head with a hand, to which Arthur immediately retreated.
"Don't touch me! How the hell did you get in here?" He was still shocked, and his forehead suddenly cold.
He shrugged and walked round the kitchen and into the living room, then exclaimed "How much crap do you need?" Arthur followed to find him examining a painted Victorian plate covered in dust.
"Don't touch that, you'll break it!" Arthur pulled it from his hands and carefully put it back, then shot Alfred a deep glare. "What do you want? I don't even know you, so why do you keep bothering me?" He tried to keep calm. Strangers breaking into his house was alarming, sure, but Arthur was certain he had seen worse. Done worse.
Alfred just shrugged again. "You talked to me."
"I didn't talk to you, and that doesn't give you an excuse to stalk me and vandalise my property!" Arthur's voice grew louder.
"I didn't vandalise it, you left your back door unlocked." Alfred replied absently turning away to look at the small television.
"I most certainly did not." Arthur growled. He knows he didn't, he was certain, absolutely positive- yet here was a teenager in his living room, prodding his telly, no less.
"How does this thing work?" He said interestedly.
"What? You turn the switch here, look." He flicked a small switch and Alfred yelled "Wow!" so loud that Arthur winced. Had he not seen a TV before? He hated to admit he was slightly intrigued by the boy, but that was not enough to make up for harassing him in his own home.
"Look! There are people talking on this! It's like a radio." His face was lit up by the black and white picture, and Arthur found his mouth slightly agape. He was sure there were TV's in other people's houses. He could sometimes see the neighbours' through their glass back door- and that one was all flat, and the image was coloured and clear.
He shook his head and pulled the teen to his feet. "You need to go. I don't want visitors."
"Ah, come on man, don't be like that." he whined as Arthur kept pushing him to the front door.
"I don't like kids, I don't like Americans, and I certainly don't like American kids."
"I'm not a kid! I'm nineteen!" He protested childishly, his chin stuck out.
"Exactly my point." Arthur said curtly, skirting them round the weak coffee table.
"Just 'cause you're old you think you can treat everyone younger than you like a kid!"
"And just because you're a teenager you think everyone older than you is an old fogey, so be quiet." They reached the front door and Arthur began the process of unbolting when Alfred whined and complained, then tried pulling Arthur away from the door.
"Come on man, you're like me, right? You must be otherwise you wouldn't-"
"Goodbye, Alfred!" He finished the bolts, then threw the Yank through the door and watched him sprawl out across his dying lawn.
"You're heartless, man! Help a poor guy out will ya?" The teen pleaded, coming up onto his knees while Arthur watched indifferently, appalled at the desecration of his mother tongue.
A man was crossing the street, and looked at Arthur when he replied to Alfred, "Stop bothering me or I really will call the police!"
The man had stopped walking, and stepped slightly forward to say, "I'm sorry, sir?"
He didn't reply, just slammed the door once more and went back to the kitchen to clean up the tea he dropped.
When a fresh cup had been made, he double checked the lock on both doors, then slumped back down in front of the TV. Damn kids and their persistence. Reminded him of a boy he knew a long time ago; always nagging for his attention. He was the neighbour's kid. Or maybe he was a cousin? No wait, he was sure he remembered he had a younger brother…
Ah well, no point dwelling on the past.
He sat watching whatever it was that the TV was showing while he sewed a new pattern on his yellowed cloth, enormous brows furrowed in concentration. He spent the day like that; only moving when he strictly needed to, until the grandfather clock shoved in the corner of the room read six o'clock. He got up to make another cup of tea, and was returning to the his seat when he thought he saw a shadow move across the front window.
He approached in carefully, expertly traversing the mess and peeled back the curtains to peer through the moulded net. He gaped. Alfred was sat on the curb outside his house, staring fixedly at the cement while peeking a look over his shoulder every now and then. He caught sight of Arthur scowling, then a huge smile graced his features and he waved.
He let out an involuntary growl, and pulled the curtains closed just as the doorbell rang five times in a row, accompanied by a sharp rapping of a fist. Yanking the door open, he opened his mouth to yell as much profanities as it took to keep the teen away, but Alfred spoke first.
"Can I just talk to you for a minute? Please?" He looked a little lost and uncomfortable, shifting his weight from one foot to another.
"I don't want to hear it." He wanted to close the door, but his curiosity slowed his hand. He hadn't seen the boy so antsy before, he had thought he was on some sort of permanent high.
"But there's no one else, man! Just hear me out, come on, England?" He pleaded.
"What did you call me?" He scowled.
"England, seeing as you wont tell me your name and you're English." His trademark grin lit his face up, and he let out an annoying laugh.
"Original," he replied sardonically, then he really did shut the door. Well, slammed it.
The next day, Arthur decided to open the curtains again to lighten the rooms, in a vain attempt to lighten his sour mood. When he reached the living room curtains, he seethed when he saw Alfred sitting on the same part of the curb, throwing the same furtive glances over his shoulder at the house. He blew out a gust of air and kept the curtains shut, then returned to the television.
All week he spotted Alfred sitting there, sometimes pacing around the pavement, but never moving away from the house. He was there when Arthur woke up, and when he went to bed, and he briefly wondered if he actually even left in the night. But he must do, right? Every time after that when Arthur looked out the window, he saw Alfred sitting there, in the exact same spot.
One particularly cold Sunday evening, Arthur was reading through Jane Eyre for the umpteenth time and decided to take a testing look out the window. Predictably, Alfred was still sat there, almost looking unaffected by the cold. Snow had started that morning and Arthur could see layers of frost over Alfred's clothes and hair, and couldn't keep away a nagging feeling of sympathy.
He set the book down and approached the front door reluctantly, almost not believing what he was considering. He stood at the door for several minutes having an inward debate, to which he lost (and therefore won) and opened the door slowly to look at teen. Alfred didn't notice for a while, the light from Arthur's hallway not reaching where he sat, until Arthur spoke.
"Are you going to sit there all night? My house is getting cold."
Alfred jumped and swivelled round to glare at Arthur. "You took your time! It's freezing out here ya know!"
Arthur just snorted and went to close the door, when Alfred jumped up and ran at him. "No wait, wait, seriously England wait a minute!" He stuck his foot in the door and Arthur fixed him with an indifferent stare. How many years had he spent ignoring people? And one stupid teenager was making his feel sympathy.
"My name is not England, it's Arthur." He said obstinately, not quite trying to remove the foot from the door.
"Right, Arthur England."
"Kirkland! Arthur bloody Kirkland!" He huffed, then shook his head. "If you wont leave me alone- Well, just come in for a minute-"
"Great! Thanks, man." Alfred barged into the house and immediately dropped unceremoniously onto the sofa. Arthur closed the door quickly, and came into the living room.
"I said just one minute! Don't make yourself comfortable." His hands were on his hips and he was scolding Alfred like a child, something the latter picked up on.
"Why do you always treat me like such a kid? You're old, but you're not that old." His arms were on the back of the sofa, his legs propped up on the plush foot rest.
"I'm not old at all!" He frowned. That wasn't strictly true, he thought.
"So how old is 'not old at all'?" Alfred asked, his annoying cowlick bobbing obnoxiously.
"I'm…I don't-" He stuttered.
"What? Can't hear you, England." Alfred smirked, eyes flashing with some knowledge to which Arthur was oblivious.
"I don't really know, alright? Now just tell me what you want so you can leave and we can both get on with our lives." He was regretting inviting him in, and was suddenly self-conscious. He hadn't needed to talk about himself in so long, he didn't realise how rusty he was.
"How can you not know? Well I guess I'm not really sure myself, but at least I have an excuse." He ignored Arthur's last statement and stared with a nostalgic sense at nothing in particular.
"You said you were nineteen." Arthur blurted, not sure why he was humouring him.
"Yeah, I did." He let out that annoying laugh again, and grinned his goofy smile, to which Arthur almost smiled. He stopped himself in time. His childishness was contagious, and Arthur couldn't help but get a little caught up in it all.
"So what's your excuse then?" He demanded, berating himself inwardly for his interest.
Alfred shifted slightly on the sofa, "Well, haven't been reminded in a while."
Arthur blinked and scowled. Now Alfred really was a strange individual, which was bad for Arthur, who seemed to attract only the strangest people. Or creatures, if his memory served.
"So tell us 'bout yourself then, England." He smirked, and looked expectantly up at the frowning male.
"Arthur." He responded.
"Interesting. Anything else?" Alfred was still grinning.
"What's it to you?" He didn't divulge information to anyone, least of all strangers who brought up memories of an annoying…cousin? Brother? He didn't even know anymore, and he briefly wondered if that should be worrying him.
"So, like, I mean tell me why you're doing this?" He said, his gaze sharpening.
"Excuse me?" Arthur raised his eyebrows.
"Arthur," he pleaded suddenly, "Why are you doing this? Please, Arthur, don't do this anymore." His image was blurring, and Arthur staggered a bit to stay upright. What was he talking about? He seemed to completely change in a mere few seconds, from an arrogant and exuberant teen, to a desperate and lost child.
"…Arthur…" His face wavered before him, and screams echoed in his mind. Sudden familiar crushing disappointment and self loathing ate away at him, and he felt his knees weaken.
The room disappeared and returned just as suddenly, and Alfred swam in and out of focus. Arthur gasped "What are you doing?" But only a muffled slur came out, and Arthur realised the carpet was pressed against his groggy mouth as he slowly faded from consciousness. His last sense only managed to pick up on a faint foreign sound, almost a whisper;
"…Please don't leave me."
AN/: Sorry forgot about the page breaks. Please review!