Chapter One: On The Road
His younger brother had sprung on him the last world nations meeting, holding that dreaded brochure in his grasp. He had dopey grin plastered on his face.
"Arthur! Guess what?" Al had slapped Arthur on the back, almost bringing the Brit crumbling to his knees. The twit didn't realize his own strength, did he?
"What is it?" England's icy tone made America waver, but only for a moment. His countenance revealed hurt for a few seconds, but before Arthur could feel the slightest bit guilty, Alfred was already grinning ear to ear again.
"This summer's gonna be a hot one, right? Sooo, I was thinking that maybe we could hop on a cruise ship for a week this July and, I don't know," Alfred slicked his hair back and made a flowing movement with his arm, "Unstress-ify. What do ya think? Sounds like fun, right?"
Arthur only looked at Alfred, letting the words sink in. Cruise… Boat... Ocean. The words made the back of his eyes sting and his fingers shake. Oh god, he needed an excuse.
"Uhm, I- well, you see-"
"No need to thank me! I invited France already, now you, and I have one more spot left, I think," America had said, counting on his fingers. "I'll probably give it to Matt… he doesn't have much of a life… I'll text you the deets later!" Alfred slapped Arthur's back in a friendly gesture, shoved the brochure for Sunshine Cruiseline into his hands, and strutted off, in search of Matthew, no doubt.
After that, it had been too late to come up with an excuse. America was dead-set on dragging him, the frog, and Canada onto the ship with him, even if it meant listening to fighting the entire time. They had decided to share a hotel room after that month's meeting and then head to the dock together the next morning, picking up an excited France and a timid Canada on the way. Although he wished he could tell his brother that he could drive himself, Arthur had learned over the years that renting cars in the US was expensive, and he was in no position financially to refuse the offer of free transportation from Alfred.
Well, after a good month of preparing himself mentally and listening to Al's ramblings on how much fun they would have, the day had arrived. By tonight, he, Arthur Kirkland, would be on a cruise. The thought of spending the next seven days on a ship with none other than his bigmouthed brother, and that perverted frog made his knees go weak and his head throb.
He doubted he was going to make it through the next week.
His forest green suitcase lay open on the bed while Arthur tucked in the things he needed for a week-long summer vacation. He put each item in with shaking hands, unsure why he had agreed to this in the first place. Of all things, why a boat? The last time he had been on one was so long ago, back in the days when he was a pirate. He could hardly imagine himself on one again, much less for an entire week.
The door creaked open and booming footsteps crossed the threshold, sending the already jittery Arthur into the air.
"God, Arthur! Would you hurry up already? I've already got all of my stuff in the back of the car." Alfred poked his brother's back and huffed when he got no reply. He tried again, and this time his hand was slapped away by the fuming Brit.
"Don't do that, dammit! I'll take as much bloody time as I want! Go make yourself useful and fetch my toothbrush from the bathroom if you want to go so bad!"
"Gees, man. You don't wanna go? I paid a lot for these reservations… Really, if you don't want them, I'll just give 'em to Gilbert or something…" He said, looking annoyed. An alarm of some sort panged sharply, the sound omitting from his now lit up phone. Al's eyes widened as he checked the time. "Shit- we still have to pick up Francis and Matt! It's like an hour drive, and the docks are always so crowded if you don't get there a good two hours before-"
"Just leave! I'm finishing packing, and I want a few mere moments of peace before I have to get in the car with that frog, and you!" Arthur pushed his brother out of the room roughly and calmed his quaking hands before he put them on Alfred's shoulders.
"Go get my toothbrush and start the car. I'll be out in a moment." The door was slammed on a peeved looking American and there was silence, at least for the moment. Arthur took deep, shaky breaths and waited for Alfred's loud footsteps and angry mumbling to disappear out the hotel door before he had a mental breakdown.
He leaned heavily on the closed door, and slid to the floor, letting the shaking get the best of him. Arthur's hands shook so hard they almost looked blurred, and he let out unstable breaths as he waited for the panic attack to pass. The water. He was going to be on a boat in water for an entire week. A week. An entire bloody week.
Of all the things on Earth, he had one fear that reigned above all. He didn't do well with water, never had, and probably never would. It of course caused problems for him, saying as America was always dragging him from beach to beach, pool to pool, and always teased him about never going in. Alfred's harsh and kidding words scraped the back of his mind, 'What, didja' never learn to swim? You're being such a wuss! God, Arthur, stop acting like your three and get in the fucking water!' But the Englishman was too afraid to get in. The sound of rippling stream water echoed through his head, chorusing, ringing, making his head pound and his heart race.
He didn't need to ask himself why it was he was so afraid of the deep blue liquid that could look more beautiful than the world itself, yet as chilling as death. He knew the answer. It was clear as day, always in the back of his mind, yet he refused to acknowledge it. Why was he behaving like such a child? He was a pirate once right?
…Buzzz… Buzzz...
His cell was sitting on the wooden hotel floors, vibrating and shaking rapidly. He snatched it up and opened up the text from Alfred, grateful for the distraction.
[Message from: Alfred]
get ur limey ass down here! wer so l8! D:
[Sent 10:34am]
He was going to take the time to type out every obscene and offensive word in his vocabulary and send it in reply, but he only sighed, not wanting to fight the entire hour drive to France's and Canada's hotel. So, deciding he would be the better man-something that Alfred was not capable of-he just sent back a short reply of 'I'm coming' and gathered up his suitcase. America was most definitely not the cute little child he used to be, and it drove him utterly mad.
As he watched the little envelope icon disappear with a 'message sent', it struck him that Alfred wasn't the only person he was afraid would tease him. He cringed at the thought of what Francis would say if he heard of Arthur's little fear. He was a man, dammit. He could do this, and he would, whether he liked it or not. Or at least that was what he continued telling himself as he double checked that his foolish brother had remembered everything and headed out the door of the hotel room, stomach flipping.
The sign of the Hilton was large and lit up, the American flag out front waving. It was so hot out in California, even at only 10:30 in the morning, so unlike the foggy days in England that never failed to put him a sour mood. He took a deep breath in through his nose, and let it out his mouth, working to get his pulse down. If he could only calm down…
The parking lot was large and full of cars, yet it only took him a few seconds to find the bright red, white, and blue Jeep. Stars littered the entire mass of metal, and a giant eagle head was painted on the hood. It was horrendous riding in that car with his brother; no matter where they went, people stared, beeped their horns, and more than once they had found a crowd around the vehicle, taking pictures with big camera's and phones. Funny thing was, as much as he hated it, he knew that this was exactly what America wanted. Attention, as usual. Hell, he had been like that since he was a child. Honestly, he wondered where, or rather, whom, he had picked it up from, as it was certainly not Arthur. Probably France, the damn frog.
America was waiting by the car for him, his foot tapping with frustration. His scowl deepened considerably at the sight of his slightly shorter brother.
"Dude, do you have any idea how many times he's fucking called me in the last hour?" America thundered, waving his phone in the air.
"No, and I don't wish to hear. Where is there room for this?" Arthur sighed, focusing on the sound of the cars swishing past on the highway rather than the haunting thought of his impending doom.
Alfred walked to the back and peered in. He grunted. "Not too much room left with my stuff… give it here, I'll make it fit. Got no idea how the other two are gonna get their stuff to fit here too, but we'll have to figure somethin' out when we pick them up…" He said as he began stuffing the bag in place as hard as he could, despite England's cries of, "Careful, you twit!"
America seemed to have forgotten the fact that he was supposed to be angry and gave England a goofy smile.
"You ready to go? Get in!" Alfred opened up the passenger door and gestured inside. Usually England would protest at being treated like a woman and claim the driver's wheel, but he knew he wasn't in any condition to drive, what with his unstable hands and wandering mind. He climbed in and shut the door behind him as America settled himself in the front seat.
The car was started, and America glanced behind him as he pulled out of the parking lot and turned to the highway. With careful hands, he reached for his phone, which was nestled in the cup holder and slid it open to type on the little key board inside.
"Alfred! What are you doing?"
"Chill out, man, I'm just texting France to let him know we're on our way."
"In the middle of the goddamn freeway?"
"It'll only take a few-"
"How many times must I tell you not to text while driving! I'll do it!" He plucked Alfred's phone out of his hands and placed it back into the cup holder, then retrieved his own phone from his pocket and unlocked it.
"…Gees, man, what crawled up your ass?"
"Shut your mouth and focus on the road, you twit!" Arthur snapped. America's frown deepened, but he just shrugged and did as he was told, used to the Englishman's crabby behavior.
Arthur switched on his phone, and grunted impatiently as he waited for it to turn on. One look out the window sent the sun into his eyes and it pierced him like daggers. He was still getting used to the whole sun-shining-all-day thing.
His touchscreen beeped and the phone came to life, the keys lighting up and the screen showing his wallpaper- a picture of America and Canada when they were much younger. England stopped, taking a few moments to admire the picture that reminded him of better days. America's eyes held a brightness that England hadn't seen in a long time; a brightness that had always seemed to spread like wildfire to everyone around him. His big smile revealed a missing front tooth and Nantucket stuck strait up, always refusing to stay down, as if it had a life of its own. Canada was holding his twins hand, eyes equally as bright. His smile and overall appearance wasn't outgoing and shining like his brothers, his was sweeter in a way that was almost indescribable, which made your heart melt. In the background an always flashy France was winking, his hair down to his shoulders and blowing in the wind. The sun shining through the trees made the blond waves look beautiful, like thin strands of gold.
The picture symbolized better times. Times when life was simple. Easier. More fun. It seemed so delicate, as if almost breakable, like it would shatter if you got too close.
England wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he missed it all. He missed all of the chaos that went on during the day, and even during the night. When he and France actually got along enough to be in the same room without a screaming match. When America and Canada came to him for help with anything: scraped knees, broken toys, small fights. In some ways, he was more their father and mother figure than their older brother. As for France, he shared the role too. He cared for them as much as himself, which England would never admit out loud. And in that instant, England wished that things would go back to how they were, how they used to be. But that was the past. Things could never go back to the way they were, not after their little family had fallen apart, so unable to piece back together again.
"You still have that picture, huh?" The usually obnoxious voice was soft, and if England wasn't mistaken, sad.
England jumped realizing that America had been staring over his shoulder for quite some time now. His cheeks heated up and Al's face lit up in a grin- one that as lively as it was could never amount to the ones he used to sport.
"J-just focus on driving…" The comment was snappy and mumbled, but softer than before. Arthur looked away, crossing his arms.
America just happily turned up the radio, nodding his head in approval with an, "Oh yeah! Good song!" After only a minute, England almost wanted to send a bullet through the stereo, ending the repeated chorus of: BORN-in the U-S-A, I was- BORN- in the U-S-A, I was- BORN- in the U-S-A, I was- BORN- in the U-S-A…
It was making his headache a good tenfold worse. With a start he remembered that he was supposed to text Francis, and pulled up a new message. If anything could get his mind off things, it was texting France.
[Message to: Frog]
Stop calling, you foppish dumbass! We're on our way so you can calm the hell down!
[Sent 11:04am]
He hit send with a smirk. Suck on that, you frog.
His phone went off a minute later, and he opened the text eagerly.
[Message from: Frog]
Ohhh, Arthur, such vulgar language. I do believe I'll need to give your mouth a good washing… ;)
[Sent 11:06am]
Funny, the usual heated text from France didn't help him in the slightest. He usually did it to get his mind off things that he didn't want to think about for a while, and when he was in one of those moods where you had to blame someone for your bad day, so why not the person you most hate? But in his current state, he wasn't feeling it.
[Message to: Frog]
Shut it, I'm not in the mood. Just be ready when we get there, we're late as it is.
[Sent 11:06am]
[Message from: Frog]
Oh? Whatever is the matter, Arthur? There's something wrong, non?
[Sent 11:07am]
[Message to: Frog]
Like I would tell you of all people. Go to hell.
[Sent 11:07am]
[Message from: Frog]
You're so mean to me, mon ami… what did I do to deserve such foul treatment?
[Sent 11:08am]
Already sick of the conversation, England deleted the message and turned off his phone, peeking one last time at the wallpaper. He turned to look at Alfred, who was nodding his head to the music, Nantucket bobbing up and down. Alfred was off-key and loud, his booming voice making the whole car seem to vibrate with each note. As much as he wanted to smack America in the back of the head, he let his younger brother be, looking out the window instead. He had nothing better to do anyway.
The palm trees outside his window flew past in a blur, and Arthur opened it, letting the warm, fresh air blow through his hair and sting his eyes. Concentrating on breathing and easing his nerves, he closed his eyes and began to drift off.
Abruptly, the singing came to a stop as the car screeched to a halt. Alfred cursed and honked his horn loudly, whilst Arthur was jerked forward, his phone flying out of his hands and breaking in half against the dashboard.
"Shit! SHIT!" America cried, rolling down his window. The traffic in front of the two spread for what looked like a good mile, and the whole highway was full of screeching cars and honking. "You've got to be kidding me! You've got to be fucking kidding me!"
Arthur just sat there. He looked at the cracked phone parts littering the floor of the car, his brother screaming an array of vulgarity out the ajar window, the cars in front of him all honking, and finally at the cruise line brochure that was resting in the cup holder.
And he lost it.
Oh my god. It just hit me. This is my first ever fanfiction. And I'm posting it. You have no idea how much courage that took… It also took a lot of persuasion and extra help from a certain someone… (*cough* *cough* Jayemkun…) But hey, here it is! Finally, right? It's funny, I wrote this chapter like, two or three months ago. Staying up late and typing, editing, editing again, editing yet again. It sucks at the time, but it's allll part of 'the process'. Look what I got out of it! The first chapter of my first fanfic, and I'm pretty proud of myself. I can't believe I'm going to actually post it. Anyway, you're probably bored now of reading this… Thanks soooo much for reading, please review, and I hope to see you guys again in chapter two!
Oh, and I guess I should probably say I don't own Hetalia or any of the characters. Although it's on my slowly growing birthday list.