Today was Arthur Kirkland's first day at the Academy, and he was not in a good mood. All this ruckus has turned his attitude sour, finding the general merriment of his schoolmates very exasperating and uncouth. Did their parents teach them no manners at all? Their mothers should've raised them as proper gentlemen, like Arthur's mother has. That is why he is not participating in all their squabble, finding peace in just reading a lovely book by the end of the row, instead of buzzing with excitement and could barely contain themselves in their seats like the rest of the class.
"Silence!"
The loud pound on the speaker's podium shut everyone up, and managed to make Arthur jump a little in his skin and look up to who had done the pounding. It was Mr. Ludwig Beildschimdt, the World Academy's Physical Education coach. It made the class hastily straighten themselves up - most who, just a while ago, were sitting on the long table, loudly chattering, and throwing paper airplanes. Arthur set down his book as well, and folded his arms across his chest nonchalantly as the coach cleared his throat.
"Ve~"
Mr. Feliciano Vargas entered the reception chamber, holding up his two fingers as a peace sign close to his face. He was smiling wildly at the youth that lay before him, clearly sharing the enthusiasm and excitement of the first years, unlike his German companion, who looked like he's about to pop a vein.
"Hello first years! Ve, I bet you're all really excited on what lays ahead at your time here in the Academy, huh? I'll tell you this much; it's all going to be super fun! This is Coach Ludwig and I'm Feliciano Vargas, and we're both very happy you chose World Academy as your stepping stone into the New World! Isn't that right, Ludwig?"
"First years, listen up! The World Academy is one of the most prestigious academies you can get in, and you will treat it with the utmost respect! This is no place to rough-house, vandalize, or set on fire! Agreed?"
'Geez, what's with all the shouting?' Arthur mused, but said nothing. But he too can deal with a little less rough-housing from his schoolmates, although the last two bits of the coach's concern were quite a bit curious. Maybe he'll learn all about it a bit later.
"Mr. Honda shall be your Academic Assistant. He will walk you through all you need to learn about the do's and don't's in the Academy. I was originally assigned to do such task, but Feliciano's brother pointed out I can be quite intimidating, making the simple rules and regulations of the Academy quite... grim," Coach Ludwig continued. There was some snickering from the first year crowd and a "You are, goddammit!" far in the background.
"Hai, I am indeed your Academic Advisor, Kiku Honda. This is Ludwig Beilschmidt, your Physical Education coach," Kiku gestured once he took Ludwig's place in front of the podium, "And that is Feliciano Vargas," he motioned to the brunette this time, who grinned wider and gave a little 'Ciao~✨!' "Your Fine Arts teacher. I will be discussing to you as well the curriculum implemented in this Academy, and things you need to know as you are here to stay."
"This and that, and this and that.." Mr. Honda went on and on as they made the campus tour. Before they left the reception chamber the first years were handed a wooden bucket containing the student handbook, a planner, a bottle of water, and writing utensils in case they wanted to take down notes. Arthur tucked his book away in the bucket. They were also handed robes that usually go with their student uniform, which they haven't donned on as they haven't received it yet. Their pristine uniforms are waiting in their dorm room, which would be their final destination. The excited chatter began bubbling up the surface as they went down the halls, away from the stern eyes of a certain stoic, blonde man named Mr. Beilschmidt who went on his separate way back to the gym, the Italian Fine Arts teacher trailing behind him.
"—Can you believe it? World Academy!" A first year with shoulder-length blonde hair exclaimed to his friend, who smiled at him politely.
"It is indeed very exciting, Feliks," the brunette agreed, glancing at the grandiose paintings adorning the walls.
"...this, and that. This, and that..." The Japanese Academic Assistant went on and on, but it is doubtful anybody paid attention to anything he said.
"This is so totally going to be rad," He went on before he bumped into a certain British gentleman, who was minding his own business and was just sticking close to the group. Feliks gave out a little squeak, huffed and folded his arms across his chest. "Watch where you're going.. eyebrows!" He huffed again.
Arthur did not take kindly to this. One, this noisy person is the one who bumped into him, and two, who does he think he is?! Sure the World Academy houses the children of only the most important personalities from all over the world, the future leaders of tomorrow, but that doesn't give him a right to be such a prat and make fun of his (rather prominent) eyebrows. He glared daggers at Feliks, who then hid behind his companion. The brunette gave Arthur an uncomfortable, apologetic smile and the Briton huffed and stomped ahead them.
"Ohonhonhonhon, look at those caterpillars stuck at that first year's face!"
Meet Francis Bonnefoy, a French second year who is soon to be Arthur Kirkland's arch-enemy, coming from another hall and encountering the pack of first years. With his flamboyant attitude, annoying long locks of hair that in Arthur's frank opinion, just makes him look like a girl, facial hair thrown in to confuse the lot of you, and a sea of girls flocking over to his side and worshipping the very ground he walks upon - yes, he is a poster boy of a guy Arthur will come to loathe. Oh, and has it been mentioned that he is a pompous ass and French?
"Shut up, you wanker," Arthur grumbled, clearly not pleased that his eyebrows were made fun of for the second time. The rest of the first years paid no attention to them, except from Feliks who gave Arthur a wary glance before dragging away his companion to stand close to Mr. Honda.
"This, and that, this, and that.." Mr. Honda went on, gesturing towards an open field that can be overlooked from the hall's balcony. Apparently it is a perfect place to practice sports, but only a portion of the group of first years looked interested.
"Did you hear that ladies? The caterpillars can talk! Ohonhonhonhonhon~!" His flock then joined him in laughter, which then again put the Briton's patience to the test. He swore to himself. He's a gentleman, he won't punch a schoolmate on the first day. That's just entirely preposterous, uncouth, ungentlemanly..
"—And that hair! Ah, mon cher, you can't expect to get laid looking like that," the Frenchman went on, dragging his fingers through his silky locks for good measure and struck a pose, and his flock went fawning over him like the idiots they were.
Do not punch him in the face, do not punch him in the face.. Arthur silently chanted to himself, closing his eyes and balling his fists in attempts to contain his short-fused temper.
"That is it, mon chouchou, I'm going to teach you how to—"
"I'm going to rip out that beard of yours, bloody tosser!" Arthur growled, punching Francis square in the jaw and grabbing the Frenchman's golden locks, ready to rip it off his scalp the minute Francis stops resisting. Which was not the case, as he kept pushing at the Englishman frantically to get his claws off his beautiful hair. The ladies surrounding him flew off like pigeons after a gunshot.
"Oi! Let go, j'en ai assez! Unlike your mop of piss-colored hair, mine takes a lot of maintenance!" Francis shrieked. By this time they have caught the attention of the first year crowd, and made the first years' Academic Assistant anxious and uncomfortable. "Are.." Kiku raised a finger as if to interject something, but no words left his mouth.
"If anything will be anything be like piss, it would be you, smelling like such after I'm through with you! I'll make sure you'd wish you'd never been born, you arsehole!" The ruckus continued, and it was the first of many fights soon to come.
oOoOo
"I swear.. by Jove I will carve out your heart you bloody frog if you don't stop moaning about your stupid hair-!"
"Enough!" Arthur heard the stoic, blonde man's pound once again for today, but this time it was on the teacher's table, in the confines of an empty classroom the coach had dragged them off to (the Academic Assistant called for Coach Ludwig in his distress to break the two apart). It made Arthur and Francis flinch, but both were wise enough to say nothing (and Francis stopped moaning temporarily about his hair). They have been placed on chairs in front of the table, a good few feet away from each other too. Ludwig grunted and huffed, leveling Arthur down with a stare as he folded his arms across his chest. Arthur folded his arms across his chest as well, glaring at Francis one more time (which made the Frenchman's face satisfactorily drain of its color) before staring back defiantly at Ludwig.
"I swear—"
"State your name for the jury to hear," the German coach reminded, to which Arthur's eyes narrowed.
"There's no one here," the Englishman stated, growing weary already of the whole ordeal. Francis resumed moaning about the damage inflicted upon his hair. The Englishman was quite successful in ripping out a few of his golden locks before Ludwig came to the rescue.
"Just do it all the same." The German coach huffed again.
"Fine," Arthur said as venomously as he can. The coach remained unfazed, and waited. "I, Arthur Kirkland, swear that I will not rip out Francis' beard once we step out of this room. Unless he pisses me off," Arthur added at the end, to which the stoic man shot him a warning look. "Alright, I won't, okay?" Arthur retracted. "And I also swear I won't rip out his hair. Again. Unless he pisses me off." Francis shot him a mortified look at the mention of his hair, and Ludwig rolled his eyes wearily. "Fine, fine, I won't rip out his hair. Or what's left of it." Arthur snickered, and they were once again up on each other's throats. Mr. Beilschmidt shook his head, and Feliciano entered the classroom, which went unnoticed by the two students. He slid to Ludwig's side, gave him a peace sign that goes with his ever-present smile. Again, Ludwig shook his head, but fondly this time. He almost gave Feli a smile had not the two knocked over the chairs they were once occupying in their squabble. "O-oi!" Ludwig shouted, to which Feliciano interjected, "They are going to be good friends, won't they? Ve~"
That stopped their squabbling.
Arthur's left hand was grabbing Francis' hair, as Francis' right was desperately trying to pry it off before they they were silenced by the Fine Arts teacher. Francis' left hand was also slapping Arthur's shoulder furiously a while ago, preventing Arthur from punching him again with his free arm. But they seemed frozen in space, shell-shocked from the Italian's wild statement and both of them stared at the teacher dumbfoundedly. The teacher grinned innocently at them with his hands on his hips, and Ludwig breathed a sigh of relief. The reason Kiku called him anyway is to prevent Arthur from getting punished by the Headmaster on his very first day, hoping Ludwig will break the two up before it got too physical. It seems like Feliciano deciding to tag along wasn't such a bad idea after all.
"Veveve~!" He was suddenly between the two, patting their shoulders fondly. "Good friends indeed! Now how about you two stop fighting and go the clinic to get both of you checked for scratches and bruises. We'll keep this little spat just between the four of us, okay~?" He gave them a wink which shot them out of their reverie. Arthur spluttered out that he will never be friends with a slimy, French frog — to which Francis blurted out that he can never be friends with someone who obviously lacks a sense of fashion and not beautiful. But Arthur's fists weren't in Francis' hair, and Francis just huffed and puffed about how uncultured British men are as he stormed out the room. Ludwig was disappointed that he didn't get Francis to swear he won't make fun of Arthur's eyebrows, but figured it was all in vain, anyway.
"Let's go Feli," he nudged, glancing at the first year one more time. Arthur was busy picking up his belongings and dusting off his robes. "Stay out of trouble," Ludwig reminded Arthur. "Be glad Mr. Honda called us instead of sent for the Headmaster."
Arthur blushed hotly and nodded his head in understanding, his unruly actions coming back to him. "I apologize," the Englishman mumbled, training his eyes on the floor. "I realize my actions were improper, and it'll never occur again." He looked up, directly into the German's eyes despite his embarrassment. Don't get him wrong, that French bastard deserved it. But he has to take responsibility of his actions, he's a gentleman after all!
The German gave him one sizing look, promptly left with Feli in tow, but not before telling Arthur he was free to go.
oOoOo
"Bollocks," Arthur muttered to himself, lost in the halls. To be honest, he didn't look that much out of place in his green button up shirt, black trousers, grey socks, and black shoes under his black robes. What he wore is quite similar to the Academy's uniform, except the uniform typically consists of a white button up shirt instead of a green one, and grey trousers instead of black ones. 'Typically', as the teachers weren't entirely too strict about it. So long as you wore the World Academy vest they won't be too fussy about the color of your clothes.
"If it weren't for that bloody French guy I would've been still with my group!" He fumed, wandering the halls helplessly.
The World Academy is a beautiful place. Though situated in the New World, it had the architecture of an old castle. It seems renovated, however. Its enormous grounds were far off civilization too, if not for a small town built close the Academy — it has shops and establishments to cater to the World Academy residents' needs. You can get a lift to the city and back to civilization here as well, aboard the World Academy Express.
Arthur was silently fuming while desperately trying to look for an adult who could possibly guide him around this maze. He was beginning to lose hope when yet another blonde kid bumped into him - a little more roughly, this time. He got tackled into the ground. Arthur yelped, and hit the boy repeatedly until he pushed him off him.
I bloody hate this school.
"Dude, I'm so sorry!" American. Glasses. First two things Arthur noticed. The American lad shakily got onto his feet, dazedly trying to fix his glasses. "Here, let me help you—" But Arthur slapped his outstretched hand away, he can get up on his bloody own, thank you!
The Englishman shot off the ground too fast however; he received a head rush and had to hold on to the American's arm. He gripped at him until his vision stopped swimming, which was approximately that much time consumed for the American to pick off his football off the ground. Apparently he was trying to catch it when he accidentally tackled Arthur.
"You a'ight there, Jones?" A fourth year with rather spiky brown hair and a bandage on his right cheek called out from the other end of the hall. "I'm okay, Ralph!" He called back, giving the other a wave and a cheeky grin. He then took a few steps back, giving him and Arthur a wee bit of distance, before he threw the football as hard as he can at the fourth year. It hit the brunette's head and sent him to stagger a bit backwards. The spectacled boy jumped and shouted "Woohoo!" with his arms in the air, and grabbed Arthur Kirkland's hand just as soon as the Englishman picked up his belongings. He dragged off the bewildered Kirkland out of sight, with a furious yet laughing Australian hot on their heels.
oOoOo
"We made it! Woohoo!" Alfred F. Jones jumped, with his arms in the air. He seemed fairly satisfied in their escape. Arthur Kirkland dropped his bucket to the ground, his hands automatically flitting to grasp his knees as he sought to catch his breath. He was red in the face and sweating; he had never done so much running in his life!
Once Arthur had caught his breath (somewhat), he wiped the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve, straightened up, and looked around. It seems like they are in a greenhouse of sorts. "Lost," Arthur grumbled, "once again, lost!"
"Lost?" Alfred echoed, and gave a carefree laugh. "We're not lost!"
"Listen here, you daft boy, I've had enough headaches for the day, and I, for one, am in no mood to—"
"You're Arthur Kirkland, right?" Well that stopped the Briton short. He was about to give this American the telling of his life, about to get up to his face and just bleeding scold him. "I'm your roommate," the American boy announced, and gave the Englishman a blinding smile.
oOoOo
Alfred relays to the Briton that after Coach Ludwig broke the fight up and whisked him away to that classroom along with the French boy, it left Mr. Kiku jittery and ended the campus tour early after exploring only a few areas. He told them to feel free to enjoy the campus in the meantime, as classes will start soon on Monday.
"Before he left us, he let me copy our class schedule! I copied yours too," he said, handing Arthur his planner. His planner was blue, with gold markings. Its cover was leathery, and the World Academy coat-of-arms carved in the front. Arthur found himself trailing his fingers over the pattern before opening it. On the first page, it read: Property of Alfred F. Jones. Alfred F. Jones, the name the American boisterously shouted as he introduced himself to the Englishman when they were still in the greenhouse. (He also proclaimed he's the hero of the Academy, but whatever.) Alfred fairly knew the way back — well at least back to the dining hall. In fact, they are heading to the dining hall right now. Arthur flipped over to the page where he wrote down their schedules. They have more or less similar classes, but on which period they take it varied a little.
Alfred took a chug out of Arthur's bottle of water. Arthur had handed it to him after he had his fill. "After changing to proper uniform, the lot of us went back to the cafeteria and had our lunch," he explained, and Arthur glanced at him as we wandered down the halls. He noticed Alfred was already in uniform — black shoes, gray socks, sleeveless jumper over a white button up shirt and robes. His tie was missing, and when Arthur asked him why he didn't have it on, he sheepishly told him he didn't know how to tie a knot.
"Dude! You don't have your vest and your tie on!" He accused, looking alarmed, and Arthur slapped his arm with his planner in reflex. (Must he always be so.. loud?) "Hey!" He pouted — Arthur had broken him out of his stride. 'But really,' Arthur thought, 'the audacity of this boy to pout at me; he's not a child! He kind of looked cute doing it too, with his chubby cheeks and all, but n-not that I noticed it or thought it was adorable or anything!'
"I haven't been to the dorms yet, you twat," Arthur reminded him, and frowned at his pout. "Oh, right!" the American responded, and Arthur remembered thinking he may not be very bright. "But let's get good food in you first — too bad you missed the feast. It was awesome!"
And suddenly, they were in the great dining hall. It was much larger than the reception chamber they were in a while ago, and had huge windows that allowed a lot of natural light in. Unlike the reception chamber which only had two long tables, this one had five, with the third one greatly stacked with food. Arthur wondered if this was where they hold events as well, like dances and the sort?
Alfred grabbed the Briton by the wrist and started tugging the English boy to the third table. He caught him off-guard so Arthur was too startled to resist and let himself be dragged. The American kept chattering away, but Arthur wasn't actively listening. Instead he narrowed his eyes at him, and thought, 'I don't like this boy. He doesn't stop smiling, he's too chatty, and kept touching me. He tackled me to the ground, held my hand when he dragged me off to escape that fourth year, kept bumping his shoulders to mine when we were walking, and now he's grabbing my wrist and dragging me — again!'
"Recap: why are you my roommate again? Short version," Arthur cut Alfred off as he carved himself a piece of roast lamb with spring herb crumbs. There were still a lot of food even though the feast was over, but it looked picked on. Arthur got himself a bit of gravy for his bit of lamb, and a fizzy drink to accompany it. He was quite peckish; it was already half past two, and he spent most of my day (fighting) running! Alfred busily stacked sandwiches on his tray, and got himself a fizzy drink as well. Arthur nodded his head to an empty spot on the second long table, and Alfred followed him dutifully. "Jones, Kirkland. J-K. Dorm rooms are assigned pretty much alphabetically, though they almost never put two people with the same surname initial, I noticed during roll call. Dunno why. It's weird," he told Arthur, setting his tray onto the table and took a seat. The Englishman did so as well, only with the addition of setting his damned bucket by his feet. He had grown weary of it, and couldn't wait to tuck it away in his dorm room. "So hey, are you excited? I know we still have to buy certain books and stuff at Fantasia, but still! A couple of first years are thinking about going in groups, and you know, we could tag along—"
"Alfred, please shut up," Arthur told him, and began eating. Eating his sandwiches didn't deter Alfred from speaking, and he just went on and on.
"And how psyched are you that we have an astronomy class? I mean, not all first years take it but that's because they're totally lame and we're totally cool! We could walk to class together," he suggested, and ugh, this bloody lad would not shut up! Arthur decidedly made it a point to focus on eating as gracefully as he can without snapping at him. He hmm'd and ahh'd and said I see when the one-sided conversation asked for it, and it daunted the American not. His obnoxious seatmate continued prattling on, like an excited puppy who won't stop yapping.
I have to get another roommate.
oOoOo
On their way to the dormitory, they had encountered two other first years, Gupta Hassan and Matthew Williams. Alfred befriended them during lunch period, and even though it seemed a little rude, Arthur just needed to escape that chatterbox and bubble of energy called Alfred F. Jones. Seriously, even just being around him feels exhausting. Arthur felt tired for him, but he's also worn down. He had a long day. So Arthur excused himself, saying he felt a bit faint, even if he didn't. He pointedly ignored the alarmed look in Alfred's eyes, and asked for his key. It had a wooden keychain attached to it. Arthur hurriedly shuffled away to their dorm room, its green door marked with J K in brass letters.
"Ah, I can't wait to get out of these clothes," Arthur murmured as he fell back to his sheets, tossing his bucket carelessly across the room. He let his eyes close for a minute, and let the silence wash over him in pure bliss. "I can't wait to get into my jammies, and just cuddle Peony till I fall asleep, oh," the Briton moaned on, kicking off his shoes and hugging his soft pillow close to his body. He enjoyed his brief peace, until he heard the doorknob rattling loudly. "Ugh," Arthur complained, ignoring the rattling of the doorknob and the loud knocks on the door. "Dude, are you okay?! Should I call the nurse or something? I'm coming for you, Arthur!" He yelled, and rammed his shoulder to the door. It hurt, and sent him staggering backwards. He landed on his buttocks, and he groaned. "Wait, I have my own key! Hahaha!" Alfred laughed, pleased at his brilliant realization and got onto his feet. His shoulder throbbed, but paid it no mind. He produced a key from his robes, which had a similar keychain as Arthur's. Once he unlocked the door — with quite a loud bang, too — his face was with hit a fluffy pillow. Arthur was scowling at him from his bed, arms crossed.
"You're not faint!" Alfred accused, catching the pillow before it hit the ground. Arthur stared at him for quite a while, before he sighed and retrieved his pillow from the American. "No, I am not. I just needed to get away from you. You're so chatty," Arthur told him, tossing his pillow back to his bed. "Chatty?" Alfred gasped, as if it's the most astounding idea he'd ever heard. "Yes, dear boy, you are very chatty," Arthur confirmed, setting aside his shoes and picking up his damned wooden bucket and its contents.
"That's only because I'm trying to get you to talk!" the American defended, and Arthur shook his head. Arthur didn't talk much, and there's nothing wrong with that. Alfred just needs to learn to calm down and shut up!
"Arthuuuur," the spectacled boy whined, standing idly by the door. He slumped down his shoulders, to emphasize his whining. Feeling the vein on his forehead throbbing, Arthur forced himself to look directly at Alfred's face. He had never done so before, and only then did he notice Alfred had remarkably blue eyes. He was blonde too, like Arthur, but his hair looked more sunny and vibrant. Arthur's face colored a bit upon noticing this — and he scowled. He's paying the American too much attention (how embarrassing!). He blinked his scowl away, and took a step forward in Alfred's direction. "Alfred," he started slowly.
"Yes?"
"If you give me peace this whole afternoon, I will talk to you at dinner." There, offer out on the table.
"Peace?"
"Mhm."
"What kind of peace?"
"Me doing my thing in silence."
"What kind of thing?" At this point Arthur was getting exasperated. Alfred F. Jones sure had a lot of questions. "Me unpacking my things and resting after I had done so, without you bugging me," Arthur explained, and Alfred pondered on Arthur's sentence for a minute. His eyes twinkled upon understanding, and said, "You want some me time, then?"
"Yes, Alfred, I want some me time." Alfred grinned at him brightly, and Arthur resisted the urge to roll his eyes at him. "Gotcha. I totally feel that way too! Sometimes. I guess it's been kinda boring for you to be stuck with me for most part of your day," Alfred joked, though his smile faltered a bit. Arthur felt a bit bad. Alfred rescued him, after all; he was utterly lost had he not bumped into (tackled) him into the ground and grabbed his hand and led him to the dining hall. It was also Alfred who showed him how to get to their dormitory, who filled him in on what he missed from the campus tour, and copied his class schedule for him.
Arthur put his bucket down by the foot of his bed. "Give me a minute," he told Alfred, pulling one of his luggage to the center of the room. It was lugged in their dorm room earlier when they were in the reception chamber. The Englishman rummaged through his things, and his eyes lit up when he found what he was looking for. "Aha!" he exclaimed, delicately holding with his two hands a tie. It was striped slanted in red and gold, and looked like of expensive fabric. He skipped over to Alfred, sternly warned him to not move as the Englishman looped the tie around Alfred's neck. The sudden proximity surprised Alfred a little bit; a bit of pink dusted his cheeks. He got over it soon enough though, and tilted his head curiously at Arthur. The Briton had a determined look in his eyes, and made a few of complicated movements before securing a knot and tucking the tie into the American's World Academy vest. He patted Alfred's chest for good measure and took a step back to admire his work.
"Does this mean I'm a Gryffindor now?" Alfred asked, grinning cheekily. Arthur looked shocked for about a second or two, and then he chuckled — a small one, but he chuckled nonetheless. "For now," he responded playfully, heading over to his bed and taking a seat. "You understood the reference?"
"Dude, how can I not? Like, when I got that invitation to study at World Academy, I thought at first I finally got my letter from Hogwarts!" Alfred complained, hands on his hips. Arthur chuckled again. "Yeah, I hear you. I was bummed as well," he said, and then took a look at Alfred's tie. He snickered.
"What's so funny?"
"That knot is called the Pratt. Because you're such a prat. Get it?" He snickered again, and Alfred gave him a hurt puppy look and crossed his arms across his chest. "Oh come on, I'm only joking," he complained, but Alfred just narrowed his eyes at him. Arthur narrowed his eyes back, and they had a brief staring contest before they burst out laughing. "Now get out, I need to unpack."
"Harsh, Kirkland, harsh. And here I thought we were making progress." Arthur just gave him a wink and a ghost of a smile. "But yeah sure, I'll let you unpack. I haven't done any unpacking myself; I'm not sure how much unpacking you'll get done in three hours though. Dinner's at seven," Alfred reminded Arthur. "Do you want me to drop by before dinner?" Though the American is far from memorizing the entire topography of the Academy, he remembered enough of the campus tour to get by. Arthur however..
"Yes, that would be lovely, thank you," Arthur responded absently, back to rummaging through his things, back to half-hearted listening. Alfred didn't mind though! He was invited by Matthew and Hassan to the Academy's library earlier, but he told them he couldn't because he wanted to look after his roommate. (He thought Arthur was feeling faint, after all!) Surely it wasn't too late for him to join them.
"So I'll see you at seven?"
"You'll see me at seven."
oOoOo
Arthur watched alarmedly Alfred Jones wolf down his fifth pancake for today. The American looked like he was having the time of his life, joy filling his heart with each delicious bite.
"Alfred.." Arthur tugged on Alfred's sleeve, calling the American's attention. The spectacled boy glanced at him, pausing at shoving forkfuls of pancakes to his mouth. "Hm?"
And so the feast has begun. The grand dining hall was packed! First years to seventh years bathed in soothing yellow-orange light the rather fantastic chandelier emitted. Cuisine from all around the world was brought forth to their tables, and Alfred's choice of meal are pancakes and sandwiches.
"I'm a tad bit.. concerned about your diet, Jones," he said in a hushed manner. "You do realize pancakes is more of a.. breakfast sort of meal." But Alfred wasn't listening. He was busy fighting another student for a purple cupcake.
"Fine, forget I said anything," Arthur grumbled, crossed his arms, and glared at the idiot American before he went back to eating. For dinner the Briton opted for roast beef with onion gravy. The food here in World Academy isn't half-bad, Arthur thought. They served everything and anything, sure; but at least the students can take their pick!
Arthur perked up. 'Did somebody call my name? I thought I heard my name.' Arthur Kirkland looked around. Second student to the right of the student in front of him was Matthew Williams. Beside him, Gupta Hassan. Arthur remembered from the brief encounter in the dormitory. Matthew gave the Briton a little smile and a wave, and Arthur waved awkwardly back, with a confused expression on his face. Clearly he was debating whether he should smile back or not. Matthew found this amusing, but held back a chuckle. "Hi Arthur," he spoke.
"Er.. hi?" Arthur picked his eating utensils back up, and held his confused expression, cocking his head to one side.
"My name is Matthew.. you met Hassan and I a while ago?"
"Yes, I do remember. Why?" Arthur held his confused expression, tainted with mild annoyance. 'Geez, it's like talking to a brick wall,' Matthew thought. 'Alright, you can do this! Let's try again.'
"Are you still feeling faint?" To this, a reaction. Embarrassment dusted Arthur's cheeks pink. Arthur reached for a glass of water and took a sip, and opened his mouth to reply to Matthew. Unfortunately, before he even got to respond, he got cut off by a certain American who thought it'd be wise to stand on the long bench he was once sitting on.
"No way, I'm the King of the Cupcake!"
"You totally are not! Purple is the color of fabulous, and the purple cupcake is deserved only by the fabulous!" That voice sounded familiar. Hey, that's the blonde kid that bumped into him a while ago!He was standing too, but not on the long bench like Alfred is. He's desperately trying to reach for the cupcake that Alfred held high and proud and away from him. Arthur saw the blonde kid's pal trying to get his friend to sit down, to no avail. "Come on, Po! I'm sure we can find another purple cupcake!" He tugged at the blonde kid's robes.
"Uh uh, no way, I like, already looked and stuff!" Po desperately tried to reach out for the cupcake, and his friend gave him a distressed look before he scampered off to the third long table. It was situated at the middle of the hall, but no benches were around it. Clearly it's not meant to be the table to dine on, like the four other long tables, but it held food as well. The brunette went looking for a purple cupcake whilst Alfred held it over his head, proclaiming "Hahahahaha, freedom wins~ !"
Arthur sighed and gave the American's robes two tugs. "Alfred, sit down. You are embarrassing yourself," the Englishman scolded. "Dude, he's trying to steal my cupcake!" Alfred complained, and Arthur sighed. "Your cupcake? You're like, a total liar! I call Pinocchio!" Po pointed an accusing finger at Alfred, with his other hand on his hip. Alfred gasped, non-believing. Arthur shook his head at how utterly idiotic everyone is behaving, and Po took notice.
"Oh hey, aren't you like the kid who—," Po started, and then blanched. This was like, the guy who totally ripped off that upperclass guy's hair because he made fun of his eyebrows! Arthur looked at him sharply, daring him to finish that sentence. 'I like, totally made fun of those eyebrows, too!' he thought grimly, and swallowed. "Eep!" Po squeaked, hiding behind his newly arrived brunette friend. The brunette held an apologetic smile, and Arthur tried again.
"Alfred sit down, people are looking," Arthur insisted sternly, but still in a hushed manner. Alfred pouted, but stepped down from the long bench. "I'm not giving him my cupcake!" Alfred panicked, holding his cupcake rather protectively, but Arthur managed to coax him to sit down. "I know, love, I'm not asking you to." Arthur sighed resignedly. He felt like he was babysitting a child. Arthur decided to draw his attention to Matthew, who was watching the whole ordeal. "And no Matthew, I don't feel faint anymore, but I thank you for your concern." He caught Matthew's attention and the boy nodded in understanding.
"It's okay, um.. Alfred, was it?" The brunette spoke, and he turned to his blonde friend. "Here, Po. I got you a cupcake with pink frosting. What's more fabulous than purple? It's got to be pink!" he encouraged, giving Po a smile. He held out the cupcake to the blonde, who then grinned and took the cupcake carefully with his two hands. "Hear that, my cupcake is more fabulous than yours!" Po grinned, and sat down to gush with his seatmates on how fabulous and cute his cupcake is.
The brunette lad then held out a small plate with a blue cookie on it to Alfred. "Peace offering?" He tried, with a nervous smile on his face, and Alfred cautiously reached out for the plate. "Is it poisoned?"
"Oh, come off it, you twat. He's more Gryffindor than you," Arthur grumbled, and the brunette arched a brow at the curious term before he slid next to Po on the long bench. Alfred gasped again, not believing what he just heard.
"You don't mean that!"
"Oh, but I do." Arthur deadpanned at him. He decided to resume eating while the American stared at him in shock. "To be a Gryffindor is to do what is right," Arthur told him, refusing to look at him and focusing on his food. "He's done more right than you, and he didn't fight over something petty like a cupcake. What was your name again, lad?" He asked, looking at the brunette who started on his food, too. "Oh, me? It's Toris. Toris Laurinatis."
"Arthur Kirkland. Charmed," he responded, like a reflex. "It was a purple cupcake. Purple, Arthur," the American insisted, and picked up a sandwich. A BLT sandwich, and Alfred took a bite out of it. "It was the only purple one!"
"Acted out in the interest of one's self and not in the interest of others? You're a shame to your house colors, you're a shame," Arthur taunted. Alfred looked mortified, and stood up. The Briton looked at him plainly. "Hey, um, Po?"
"It's Feliks for you!" the blonde boy warned, and flipped his hair. Alfred stared at him in confusion for a second, wondering 'how do you even get Po from Feliks?', and then shook his head. Arthur stole glances at him while eating dinner. Alfred cleared his throat, and held out the purple cupcake to Po.
"Here you go, Feliks! I know you liked it very much, for some um.. 'fabulous' reason," Alfred started out hesitantly, and Feliks just beamed at the word 'fabulous'. "And I may have wanted it just because it's unique and I know everyone else wanted it," Alfred considered, as if he's thinking it up as he spoke.
"Well, I must say um.." Feliks started, and awaited for Alfred to introduce himself.
"Ah, Alfred! Alfred F. Jones!"
"—Alfred F. Jones, you're not half-bad! I'll accept your apology cupcake," he grinned, stood up, and took the cupcake from Alfred. Alfred grinned back, and took a seat. Feliks did so as well, and resumed talking to his friends, but not before tossing the American a friendly smile. "And thank you uh.. Toris, was it? Yeah, Toris! For the cookie. It's really awesome! And cool!" He beamed at the brunette, who was about to respond had Feliks not claimed his attention.
"Hm," Arthur hummed, cocking his head curiously at the American. "What?" Alfred asked as he slid next to the Briton,. "Nothing," Arthur dismissed, training his eyes to his food again. "I was just thinking that I could really go for some lemon squares after dinner." Well, not really, but Alfred doesn't need to know that!
After a few beats, Alfred was back to his normal self.
"Hey, did you know that they say our History teacher is to be as old as Rome itself?"
oOoOo
Brocade covered walls and a unique study desk. Beside the study desk is a floor lamp, and opposite the study desk is a makeshift dining area, and past that makeshift dining area is a door to the bathroom. A plush green rug with golden tassels lay before Arthur's bed, which is tucked away at the corner of the room. Above Arthur's bed is a sort of half a second floor, which has Alfred's bed. Past Alfred's bed is a navy blue rug, which is more or less the same as the Arthur's green rug. A tall lamp holds its place by Alfred's bed, whereas by Arthur's bed there is a night stand. At the other corner of the half second floor, there'd be a wardrobe cabinet, and beside that, another study desk. By that study desk a window covered with maroon curtains. Right in front of the wardrobe are suspended wooden steps to descend the half second floor, And behind those steps, Arthur's wardrobe cabinet. By the wardrobe cabinet is another window parallel to the half a floor above it, with matching curtains.
Arthur's luggage stood between his night stand and the lamp by the study desk, while Alfred's luggage stood beside his own study desk. The floor lamp by Arthur's study desk is lit, as well as the lamp by the makeshift dining area — aka an area with a wooden table built for two and matching chairs.
"Waaah, dude, our room looks so gloomy and uncool!"
"Ugh, get off of me, Alfred! And stop rubbing your cheek against mine!" After a lot of shoving, he finally got the bloody American off of him. Arthur was muttering darkly under his breath as he lit the wall sconces to calm Alfred down. The American refused to enter their dorm room and stayed in the "safe" light of the hallway. By the sixth sconce Arthur lit, he paused, and tugged it down like a lever. Suddenly, their room is not so dim anymore; Arthur turned on the built-in ceiling lights.
"Better?" Arthur threw Alfred an annoyed look, his hands on his hips. Alfred's mood significantly brightened as the room brightened. "Whoa! How did you learn to do that?!"
"Uh.. By accident?" the Englishman said absently, turning off the floor lamp by the makeshift dining area after he had turned off the floor lamp by his study desk. "The thermostat and floor heater switch is over here, too. Behind that frame," he told him, jerking his thumb in the direction of a framed painting of a bird. "You didn't really think they'd plunge our chambers into darkness, did you?"
"Chambers?"
"Dorm room, Alfred, will you keep up?" Arthur sighed, stripping off his robes, and folding it neatly. "Man, I hate our uniform," Alfred commented, mimicking Arthur's actions. "It makes me feel old, you know?"
"I think it's quite decent enough," Arthur responded, tugging off his green and silver slanted tie carefully.
"But I think it's really cool that we get to live in this awesome castle! I mean, that's the dream, right?"
"It is if you're an eight-year-old girl," Arthur commented cheekily as he began tugging his tie off Alfred's neck. Alfred slapped Arthur's shoulder in defense, but the Briton just laughed. "Alright, alright; I suppose the castle possesses some charm."
"Why do you talk like that?"
"Talk like what?"
"Talk like a... uh," Alfred trailed off, putting his folded robes on the wooden table, whereas Arthur took his own and his ties to his wardrobe cabinet. "British person," Alfred finished lamely.
"British person?" Arthur echoed, putting his ties and robes safely in the cabinet, and took off his shoes. He put his shoes away in the corner, and pulled out his jammies from the wardrobe cabinet before closing it. "Alfred, you do realize I am a 'British person', right?"
"Yeah, but.. still!" He insisted, currently tugging his sweater vest over his head. "It's weird. It's kinda awesome too. Mom told me I'd get to meet a lot of cool people here, and make a lot of friends! It's good to know that my roommate is um.. how do you Brits say it? Smashing!" Alfred grinned, finally getting the World Academy vest off him. Arthur was busy changing in the bathroom, and when he emerged wearing blue pinstriped pajamas, he was brushing his teeth. He paused at it, and looked at the American.
"You're an idiot," he told him, but Alfred just shrugged and maintained his smile. Alfred hopped off to his floor, and Arthur finished his brushing of teeth with a mouthwash gargle. He then went to pull one of his luggage and set it to the ground while Alfred sat on his bed, taking off his shoes. He zipped it open and lifted a plush unicorn from it. "Hello Peony!" Arthur grinned, beaming at the stuffed animal. Alfred peeked from the balcony by his bedside, and watched Arthur hug Peony fondly. "I'm sorry you stayed there for quite a while, I understand it's a bit cramped in there," he apologized, stroking the unicorn's mane.
Alfred laid his luggage on the rug and pulled out his own jammies. His pajamas are blue with tiny airplanes on them. When he jumped down the stairs, Arthur sent him a sharp look. "You better not do that when I'm sleeping," he warned.
"I won't, I won't," he grinned, but Arthur ignored him and set his attention back to Peony. "So, um.. Peony, huh?"
The Englishman sent him another sharp look, but this time, his face colored in red. "I swear, i-if you make fun of me or make fun of Peony, I'll, I'll—"
Alfred chuckled at Arthur's red face and said, "She's cute!"
"—I'll turn you into a toad!" Arthur exclaimed, to which Alfred just cocked his head to one side with an amused look. "She's cute," Alfred repeated, and waited for Arthur to process his statement. Arthur swallowed, then he turned his attention to Peony. "She is," he murmured, stroking the unicorn's mane. "Mum got it for me when we were at the fair," Arthur told the American, but when he glanced at where Alfred used to stand, he was gone. "We can talk when I'm done in the bathroom!" he called out, and Arthur nodded. He set Peony on the hardwood floor, zipped up his luggage and put it where it used to be. He picked up Peony, and went to his study desk. He had placed his bucket on that desk, and in his bucket there's his book: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. He took his Harry Potter book and settled on his bed with Peony. Turning on the light by his nightstand, Arthur started reading.
"Dude, why is your part, like, really dark?" Alfred asked when he stepped out the bathroom. "Sconce by the cabinet," Arthur instructed, "Under the stairs."
Alfred nodded, and hopped over to Arthur's place. It's slightly elevated, as if the area under Alfred's floor is on some sort of platform. Alfred went around the steps leading to his floor and found himself facing Arthur's cabinet. He peeked at what lay beyond it, and sure enough, a wall sconce tucked away in the corner presented itself. It wasn't lit, and Alfred curiously turned the little knob on it. "That's so awesome!" he marveled, but Arthur just ignored him. He turned the wall sconce's light off, and cautiously but firmly grasped the sconce. "Pull it down just halfway," Arthur piped in suddenly.
"Why?" Alfred glanced at him.
"Because I don't want you to blind me," Arthur snapped, and Alfred looked alarmed. "I-I mean," Arthur softened, "If you pull it all the way down, it'll light up the ceiling in full power. Halfway should be fine." Alfred nodded, and kept his eyes trained on Arthur as he pulled down the lever. "You're a feisty one, aren't you?" Alfred asked, sitting on the foot of Arthur's bed. Arthur huffed and directed his attention to his book; Alfred laughed. He scooted closer to Arthur, and picked up Peony.
"Whatcha' reading?" the American asked, holding Peony by his two forelegs and making her walk around on her hind legs. Alfred did this for a while, then hugged the stuffed animal. Arthur raised a brow at this. "I like her," Alfred told Arthur, and Arthur beamed at him (but said nothing).
After a few beats, Arthur said, "Harry Potter."
"Huh?" Alfred paused at snuggling Peony. She is really cute, and extremely soft!
"Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone."
"You mean Sorcerer's."
"No."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Oh.." Alfred processed this information, then shook his head.
"Hey hey, I noticed you wore Slytherin's colors at dinner today," Alfred commented, deciding to sit side-by-side Arthur. This made the Brit uncomfortable, and scooted a little to the edge of the bed. The American didn't seem to mind though. "I didn't want to be put in the same house as you," Arthur said cautiously, half-shielding his face with his book, curling into fetal position.
"Why not, Gryffindor folks are awesome and cool and.. t-totally heroic!" Arthur looked like he wanted to cower into his shell like a snail.. or a turtle. But unfortunately he was neither a snail nor a turtle. "Yes yes, I hear you lad.." He murmured, peaking at him from behind his book.
"And I noticed your robes has color in it, too! Like, a while ago the insides were greyish-black, but at dinner it was this green.. you know, thing!"
"Ah, I had it tailored.."
"I asked about it but you didn't respond when we were walking. I don't get why you chose to be a Slytherin though, aren't like, most dark wizards from Slythe- Arthur? You okay?" Alfred snatched the book from the Briton, who was slowly sinking further into the sheets and curling up more as he (had) held his book above his head. Arthur shot up, straightened his ways of sitting, and snatched his book right back with knitted eyebrows. Alfred waited for him to speak, and Arthur eventually dropped his scowl.
"Sorry," he mumbled, holding his legs close to his chest with one arm and his free hand held his book. "It's just.. boy, you're a bit overwhelming! Care to tune it down a little bit? It's like you're running a marathon with your mouth or something!" And you're too focused on me, it's overwhelming and embarrassing!
Alfred blinked at him owlishly, then started laughing. "Alright, alright. I'll slow down," he conceded, and Arthur huffed in relief. Alfred stayed silent for a while, petting the silent unicorn, and Arthur briefly thought that maybe, just maybe, he can finally have peace.
"Earth to Arthur, Earth to Arthur," Alfred chimed, "Alpha Roger Tango Hypo Uncle Rush, do you com-pre-hend?"
Arthur Kirkland smothered him with a pillow. This is going to be a long, insufferable night.
oOoOo
A/N:
mon cher - my dear
mon chouchou - my pet, as in teacher's pet
j'en ai assez - I've had enough
jumper - British word for sweater. So if you see me alternating between sleeveless jumper and sweater vest, I'm meaning the same article of clothing.
cafeteria - Alfred's word for dining hall
fizzy drink - British word for soda
peckish - British word for hungry
Earth to Arthur - A reference to something that for the life of me I cannot remember. I just read this line at a fanfic and decided to include it.
Alpha (1957 to present military phonetic for A) Roger (1927, 1938, WWII military phonetic for R) Tango (1957 to present military phonetic for T) Hypo (1927, 1938 military phonetic for H) Uncle (WWII military phonetic for U) Rush (1913 military phonetic for R) *
*reference: usmil*itarydotabout*datcom /o d/the orderly room/a/alphabet dothtm without spaces and asterisks, and dot/dat as .
oOoOo
Ah, heya there folks! Sorry it took a while to update, I had a problem with the dorm room. I wanted it to be spacey enough, and I also took a while figuring out what color the room is. I wanted the room's walls to be brocaded, and after a long while of brooding, I decided it will be.. white! (lol)
White with light yellow embroidery. (ﾉ´▽｀) Also, the study desk is to the right; makeshift dining area, door to the bathroom, and steps to half a second floor is to the left. How does the steps look like? What the hell do I mean by half a second floor? All shown on the tumblr post I made.
promotionalwillow. tum blrdatcom /post/9373 8970 356/robes-a-hetalia-fanfiction without the spaces and dat as .
Both Alfred's and Arthur's bed are tucked at the far-right corner of the dorm room. Alfred's bed is by the edge of the half a second floor, as Arthur's bed is by the edge of the platform aligned to Alfred's floor. Arthur's nightstand is not on the platform though. I imagine Alfred's floor and Arthur's area being crowded with their stuff as their life in World Academy progresses, but the rest of the place still be spacey. In fact, I think the place could really use some furniture haha. Their dorm room is very bare — which is normal, they have just moved in anyway!
So what did you guys think? I apologize, it took me a while to complete this chapter; I don't have a laptop and I just borrow my sister's, which dies every few hours and won't turn on again until after 2-4hrs. Did I make any typos? Grammar mistakes? Please do inform me, I know my English isn't perfect and there's always room for improvement. How about my characterization? This chapter relied heavily on Arthur's perspective, but I'm thinking of switching it up come other chapters. As usual, I do not own Hetalia, nor do I own Arthur Kirkland (APH England), Alfred F. Jones (APH America), and any other Hetalia character that appeared in this fanwork. But I would like to hear what you think of how I portray them, so reviews plox! Thank you, and happy reading!