And... and... I know I have no excuse to start another story, when I have two going already that aren't updated frequently enough... But I just had this great idea and I really, really want to do it. So, yeah, brief explanation:
This story is a complete AU. No history involved, nada, zip, zilch, none. But I hope you will enjoy it anyway! You'll still learn something about the world we live in, I promise!
Oh, and Hong is about eight, and Arthur's about twelve.
I don't own Hetalia! end /AN/
Hong had pretty eyes, Arthur had decided. Very different from his own large, green ones, but still, a beautiful brown and an artistic shape. The Asian boy was standing rather complacently in the doorway of Arthur's house, right next to Arthur's mother, who was carrying Hong's bag.
"Now come on, go in. I promise it will be nice," Arthur's mom promised, trying to usher Hong in with her other hand. Hong walked slowly in, looking around at the house, but not at the people he would be staying with. It made Arthur a little curious. Didn't he care about the people who would be his housemates? The boy before him, Alfred, had been eager to know Arthur, adoring his every quirk. Granted, the boy had been five, which was a huge difference from eight, but Arthur would have expected at least momentary eye contact.
His mother bustled up the stairs, after shutting the front door. "I'll put your things away; Arthur, will you please show Hong around?" A request which was really a command, Arthur knew. He smiled at the newcomer, trying to get his attention. "Hello, I'm Arthur. You're Hong, right?"
There was a brief nod, and even the slightest bit of eye contact, before Hong walked over towards the glass cabinet and began staring at the heirlooms inside like he was at a zoo, beholding exotic animals. Arthur felt a little irritated at being brushed off, but he pushed on, coming up next to Hong and looking at the heirlooms too. "That's the violin my great-grandpa played. He died of influenza a long time ago though, so my grandpa sometimes has a hard time remembering what he was like."
Hong didn't give any acknowledgement, but his sharp little eyes did take in the violin, as though he were memorizing every angle and shape within it. Arthur smiled faintly, and gestured to a vase. "That's from Japan. My grandmum went there, and she gave it to us. See, it has some geishas on it; those were girls who would sing and dance to entertain people."
Again, no sign that Hong had heard him other than that he was now examining the vase with his eyes. Arthur wondered if Hong acted this way towards everyone, never answering or really engaging at all with the person. It like he was an animal used to people, but not tamed. "My grandmum says Japan's really interesting. Are you from there?"
"No." Ah ha! So he could speak! Arthur had known it all along. Of course, the answer was pretty terse, so he tried to draw out some more words. "Oh. Well, where are you from?"
"Smithtown." That wasn't far from here. Though it hadn't been quite what Arthur had been asking, he decided to let it go. What else could he ask the mysterious Hong? The younger boy's gaze was currently latched onto a pair of red glass goblets, sitting on a red glass plate. That had been from his great aunt Henrietta, to his parents on their wedding day. "Have you been in a lot of foster homes?"
Silence. Hong began to pick at the lock on the door of the cabinet, as though he hadn't even heard Arthur. That made Arthur frown a little. Hong couldn't have possibly not heard him, right? He'd heard him before, every time, and it wasn't as though Arthur had started speaking more quietly all of a sudden. He tried again. "Hey, Hong? Is this one of your first foster homes?"
Maybe he was scared, Arthur had reasoned. However, since that Hong hadn't replied again, he began to think he was just plain rude. He jabbed him in the shoulder, making the younger boy jump. "Hong. Are you listening?"
Those brown eyes turned on him, as though taking him in for the first time. "No." The eyes continued to examine him, while Arthur let his mouth gape open a little bit. Hong was not only ignoring him, but he was blatantly admitting to it? What exactly was going on with this kid? With Alfred, there had been no escape from attention; clearly these two did not come from even a remotely similar place.
"What do you mean, 'no'?" But Hong had turned his back on Arthur and now started investigating the television, in all its square and boxy glory. Arthur's teeth clenched together, and he had to count to keep from getting too angry. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10... He let out a deep breath, and then walked over to Hong. "Hong, why aren't you listening to me?"
"Don't care." It was a distracted murmur, but Arthur heard it, and got the feeling he was going to need to do a lot of counting and deep breathing if he was going to get along with Hong. Resisting the urge to hit something (or a specific someone), he said, "Well, I'm supposed to show you the house. So come with me."
When he was presented with absolutely no answer, Arthur was not surprised. He was, however, getting sick of it fast. He seized Hong's arm, and pulled him towards the kitchen. Hong shrieked, loud and piercing, immediately trying to pull free of Arthur's grip. The noise was like a prick in the ear, but Arthur soldiered on, dragging Hong along in a rather annoyed fashion. "I'm showing you the house, so quit screaming like I'm murdering you!"
"Arthur, what in heaven's name is going on down there?" Arthur's mom was coming down the stairs already not even waiting for a response. Arthur scrambled to find one that wouldn't get him in trouble, releasing Hong. "I was just trying to show him the house! He won't listen to me or anything!"
His mother was giving him a look as her feet hit the landing, and Arthur quickly released Hong. It simply wasn't worth trying to drag him around now, with the way his mother was probably going to react. "Arthur! I can't believe you'd just grab someone like that! You know when we touch someone, it should always be in a loving way!"
"But Mom, he was being a brat! He wouldn't listen!" Arthur tried to get her to see his side of things, but it was no use. She just went to hug Hong, who had completely calmed down. When she got her arms around him, however, he just grunted and wriggled away from her. She seemed to take this in stride, turning on Arthur and taking it out on him. "Do not argue about this with me! You know the rules!"
She turned to gesture towards Hong, who was watching them disinterestedly. "Now say you're sorry."
He didn't want to. Hong didn't deserve it, he was the one who caused the problem. But the habit that had been pounded into him since he was little took control, and he found the words spilling out of his mouth involuntarily. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have grabbed you. Will you forgive me?"
Hong cocked his head to the side, staring blankly at Arthur. There was an awkward silence before he finally muttered, "I suppose so." It was as though the concept were foreign to him, which was a strange thought to Arthur. Alfred had caught on very quickly, and of course Arthur knew it implicitly by now. When you did something wrong to someone, you said you were sorry and asked forgiveness (except at school. He would never do the last part at school.), and then usually there was a hug and you made up.
"There now. Both of you boys head into the dining room and I'll get some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches ready for lunch." Of course, Hong listened now and headed into the dining room with a rather stoic expression on his face. Arthur followed, still feeling frustration over the incident but his hunger (which he hadn't noticed before) directing him to let it go and enjoy his mother's 'cooking.'
Hong proceeded to show himself to be strange at lunch, licking out the inside of the sandwich and leaving the bread. No matter how much Arthur's mother tried to cajole him into eating it, the bread remained untouched. It was then that Arthur knew this kid was truly strange.
If Hong had a hobby, it was staring at things. Never people, just things. Sometimes he'd fiddle with them, maybe trying to figure out how they worked, but every time Arthur looked at him, he was staring at something else. Maybe it was too quick to make a judgement, it only being the first day, but Arthur was pretty sure there would be no change of character as Hong warmed up to them.
Right now, as they got ready for bed, Hong was staring at the tag on his pajama top, as though he'd never seem a garment made out of man-made fibers before. Arthur didn't want to bother him, but he was tired, and he wanted to go to bed on time.
"It's just a pj top, Hong. Go to bed." And those eyes didn't even shift to him once, as he continued staring at the tag, now turning the top so he could read it upside down. Arthur groaned, sprawled on his bed and wishing the light was off. "You don't have to wear a top to bed if you don't want to. So, just... just get in bed, okay?"
Hong seemed to hear him, setting aside the top and climbing into the bed opposite Arthur's. "G'night," came the mumble, and Arthur was almost surprised to hear it, wondering for a moment if he imagined it. He returned the sentiment much more clearly.
Lying back on his pillow, Arthur could only hope that tomorrow, he would not be too bothered by Hong. The child was strange, but maybe he was redeemable, or at least avoidable. Or better yet, he would get to go back to his family, the status of which Arthur was unaware. Alfred had to go back to his family in the end, because his parents had both attended anger management classes and were getting better. Hopefuly, it would be the same with Hong.
/AN/ Boring, interesting? Let me know! I promise the story with get more interesting as time goes on, and other characters should show up, such as Francis. And maybe even Alfred, I dunno, at this point the plot is kinda fluid.