Hey, I hope you like this. I might get started on the next chapter soon if you guys like it...
(Alfred F. Jones - America
Arthur Kirkland - England
Conor Kirkland - N. Ireland
Allistor Kirkland - Scotland
Dylan Kirkland - Wales
Peter Kirkland - Sealand)
Alfred F. Jones and Arthur Kirkland had been dating for a while now. He couldn't remember how long it'd been, it felt like forever. All he knew was that it'd been around twelve months. Twelve months of perfection. Arthur'd come across as gobby and arrogant the first time Alfred had met him, and Arthur had thought the same about the American.
Both boys had known each other since they were ten years old, when Arthur and his brothers would rent and stay in Alfred and his parents' extra beach house in Miami, Florida. It was right next to the one Alfred stayed in, so he had a perfect view of the Brit from his room.
Arthur was always the quiet one, Alfred noted. He would silently sit on the private part of beach, his head down in a Sherlock Holmes or Harry Potter book; sometimes he'd even go the extra mile and read a bit of Shakespeare. He never once stirred or made a sound. Every once in a while, he would raise his head; having a quick gaze up at the beautiful scenery before dropping his head back down and getting lost in the fictional world.
He didn't even yell at his three elder brothers when they'd beat him up or shout nasty things or throw stones at him. The only person he seemed close to was his younger brother, Peter; and even he called his older brother a jerk most of the time. Alfred felt rather sorry for the young British boy, until one day when they were both fifteen, the messy haired blonde snapped...
Ermagerd. Flashback.
Alfred glanced out of his bedroom window. He had been lying on his bed, feet dangling over the edge with his arms behind his head, nodding it to the beat of the new Muse album, when he heard the sound of a rather heavy object meeting the ground. He turned his iPod off quickly, scrambling up and darting to witness another Kirkland family brawl.
"What the bloody hell are you doing?!" yelled a young Brit, rubbing his red, bruised cheek as he glared at his elder red-haired brother.
"Well, Iggy, what does it look like?" replied the boy, who strode over to the younger one, snatching his beloved copy of 'The Sign of Four'.
"Jesus Christ! Just stop it, will you?!" shouted Arthur, trying his best to grab the red and gold book from his brother's hand. That was his favourite book by far. Every time Alfred had looked at the boy, he was reading a Sherlock Holmes novel. This one he was seen regularly with.
The Briton's face turned from one of anger to one of sorrow quickly as he saw his eldest brother open up his prized possession. It was one of Arthur Conan Doyle's first editions from the 1890's. Arthur loved it so; it'd been passed down from his Great-Grandfather. The Kirkland's were known to be very proud people. It was finally given to him on his 13th birthday as he shared Conan Doyle's first name.
Allistor, the Scottish brother, grinned as he ripped out the front pages. The contents page wilted in the slight warm breeze; 'Chapter 9 "A Break in the Chain" Page 88' were the first words Alfred saw as the paper drifted through his open window. He could see the messy haired boy was devastated.
"Stop it!" begged Arthur, tears forming in his emerald-green eyes, "Fucking stop it! You prick!" he cried - his voice breaking.
"What you gon' do 'bout it, eh, Iggy?" asked another brother, who threw down some bulky rocks and stroke over too. He laughed as Allistor threw the old book to him. Alfred saw several tears run down the Brit's face as his Irish brother, Conor, continued to rip chapters out of the 19th century book.
There was now two against one, Arthur's third brother, Dylan, lingering at the back of the beach house, away from the trouble and commotion.
What a coward! Man, I should go help... Alfred thought. He desperately wanted to; he wanted to be the hero, rescue the other boy's beloved book... but his legs wouldn't budge. He had a strange feeling in his gut that was telling him something unexpected was about to happen, and yes; he was sure it wasn't the dodgy burger he'd eaten before.
Arthur stood straight, his green eyes locking onto his brothers. "I'll tell you what I'll bloody do about it!" started the blonde, his green eyes burning with rage.
"Oooh! Little Iggy's got somethin' to say to us! Don' get your eyebrows in a twist, Arthur!" commented the ginger, looking up at the elder red head, laughing.
The two tall lads laughed loudly, much to both the American and Brit's displeasement.
"Shut your damn mouth, wanker!" yelled Arthur, shaking.
Then it all fell silent. The two brothers glared at Arthur, signalling Hell was about to break loose, when all of a sudden the blonde threw a punch, sending his Northern Irish brother flying.
The Scot's eyes followed his brother's journey across the yard, his eyes wide.
"Conor... Are you alright?" asked the unusually quiet Welsh brother, who'd stood back and watched the whole scenario take place. He watched as Allistor darted his eyes back to Arthur. "Allistor, leave him... "
"Ooh! Mam'll 'ave yae for tha'!" the Scot threatened as he grinned at the messy blonde. He couldn't wait to see what he would do.
"I don't give a damn, you stupid twat! Don't ever-" Arthur punched his brother in the stomach unexpectedly, winding him, "ever-" he punched again, making the Scot double over, "ever touch me or my things again, you hear?! I'm fucking sick of the bruises! Mum never sees them because I won't let her! You're all dickheads! My God."
The elder teen gasped for air, looking up at his fifteen year old brother and nodded. He was really surprised at how strong his younger brother was. Little Iggy, not big enough to fight back had just punched one of his bullies in the face and winded another. "I- I didn't realise..."
"You hurt me! How could you not realise that?" shouted Arthur, getting slightly quieter.
"I-" gasped Allistor, "I'm sorry..."
The third brother, Dylan, stared, a look of awe plastered on his face. "I- Arthur-" started the Welsh boy, looking guilty as Arthur started to walk back into the beach house, the empty book cover and several pages in his hands.
Arthur just sighed. "Leave me alone."
Sorry it wasn't very long; I know I was really mean to Arthur but I'll make it up to him!
Like I said, I'll try and get started on the next chapter, depending on how this chapter goes. Please, please, please leave reviews! I really appreciate them and I want to know whether to continue this. :)