Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, just the story.
So, this is the new version of Haunted. I'm going to keep the old version up as well because there are some scenes I tossed that can be important for you lovely readers to know. If you wish to read the old version first before reading this one, go right ahead. I will warn you that the first couple of chapters are exactly the same just with better wording. Things start to change up when Alfred goes to work, which is somewhere between chapter 5/6/7. Anyway, enjoy!
Thunder rolls in the sky as lightening flashes across it. This storm hovers above a town whose people sleep restlessly during the night. It was unplanned, but nature is mysterious and can never be predicted. The only house in this town with its lights on is a small one-story home that belongs to Alfred F. Jones. He lays awake on his bed, under his covers as shivers wave across his body. The knowledge of this unpredicted storm pissed him off, but he sits in festering fear, unable to focus on his anger.
This storm is an unusual storm. Alfred doesn't know exactly why he feels this, but something about this storm is not natural. At least, it's not natural to the point he believes something bad will happen due to it. How could he feel this, though? A gut feeling pulls at his stomach, telling him that something isn't right.
The temperature in the room drops as the night goes on. Alfred uncovers his head to breathe in the fresh cold air, exhaling and seeing his breath. He chuckles a little, a low, hoarse chuckle that is a result of his drinking. "I can't believe it's this cold," he whispers roughly to himself.
His sky-blue eyes scan his room. He ignores the little strewn bottles of beer, vodka, and tequila on the floor. If it wasn't for his brother's dare, he wouldn't have drank so much to the point of hurting his throat. His moment of boredom left him quickly, though, when he received the dare via text. He knew his brother must be annoyed with him since he constantly texts him during the night when he's bored and can't sleep.
Pounds of his headache come back as he rolls over. "Damn it," Alfred whines quietly, "why did I have to take up that stupid dare?" He mulls over the question soon chuckling. "Well, at least I had something to do to quench my boredom. Even if I learned to not drink several different alcoholic beverages with high acidic contents in them ever again."
As he continues to laugh at his stupidity, a flash of lightening moves behind his curtained window. He flinches, immediately counting in his head to see how long the thunder comes after it. One, two, three, four. Thunder rumbles across the sky after he reaches that number. With a hum, he thinks to himself. It really is over the damn town, huh? No wonder.
Alfred begins talking to himself as the storm rages on. The thunder crescendos from low rumbles to loud claps. The flashing sporadically blinks outside the window. He jumps at every flash and yelps as the claps echo through the sky. Try as he might, the reactions come.
"I-I shouldn't be this s-scared," he whispers to himself. He soon blinks, realizing what he said before retorting his own comment. "I-I'm not scared! I just- I wasn't prepared e-enough," he exclaims in the dark room he sleeps in. Yeah, that's it, he mentally encourages himself. Not enough preparation.
A chuckle resounds in his room after his thought ends. His eyes widen as they scan the room. "W-Who's there?" No reply comes to his question. He cracks a small smile, laughing to himself. "Must've imagined it. Yeah, just paranoia from the storm." As he chuckles once more, thunder booms outside his walls. He jumps out of his bed with a yelp, soon scowling at the window. "Stupid storm!" he whines in a shout.
Another chuckle appears from behind him. He tenses up and turns around quickly to see who laughed. No one stood behind him. "I-I hear you chuckling," he scans his room again, focusing on every little detail in the darkness. "I know you're there. Show yourself!" Nothing comes forward after he orders the source of the laughing to show itself. After a moment of silence and thinking, he sighs. "I hope it's not a ghost."
"Do you still have that stupid fear of ghosts?"
Alfred jumps as he hears an all too familiar voice. He slowly turns around, glancing over his shoulder and eying the thing that spoke. Behind him is a transparent, floating blue person with black streams of what he guessed was blood poor down the being's face. As he stares at the spirit, he notices that it's quite black though the skin originally is pale. Was this person burned by something?
Processing the image of the blue floating figure in front of him causes him to panic. He backs away from the thing and comes against the wall. His eyes are the size of saucers, mouth wide open for a silent scream as his body basically scratches at the wall before slumping down into a fetal position. The ghost merely laughs at the reaction.
"Oh my god, Al, that reaction was priceless," the ghost speaks familiarly. His image soon slowly morphs from his dead form to a recognizable figure that does not look nearly as dead as his other form. "Seriously though, you don't need to freak out."
Alfred doesn't know how the ghost knows his name, but he instantly scrambles from the floor and towards his bedside table. The word "gun" motivates him from his paralyzed state as he opens a draw and grabs his revolver, pointing it at the too friendly ghost.
"Whoa, whoa, dude! Chill! I'm not here to hurt you!" The ghost's arms quickly go up and wave in the air as panic shows in his dark blue eyes. "I only came to visit you and see how you're doing! Not scare you to death and get a gun in my face!"
The familiarity the spirit shows Alfred causes him to think as he slowly reaches for his glasses on the table. Donning them on, he exams the floating figure only to gasp and slowly bring his gun down. He recognizes this person. Five foot seven inches, short shaggy black hair, dark blue eyes, and a crooked smile full of worry. This person was important to him. Someone he called brother.
"Dan?" He asks the dark haired American.
He receives a nod as an answer as the other lets his arms fall back to his sides. As Alfred examines his long-lost friend, he realizes that he looks more alive now than in his other form. He smiles as memories come from the back of his head with the American born Scot-Canadian. He loved chatting with him, playing games, doing pranks. There was something off, though. Why did he look like a charred, bleeding corpse?
"Don't you fucking scare me like that, dude!" Alfred pouts as he stashes his gun away in the drawer. "It's been, like, forever since I've seen you. I almost didn't recognize you. How the hell did you get in my house, anyway?"
Daniel shrugs as he chuckles. "You should really put your extra key in a place someone wouldn't check."
The blond pouts further, puffing his cheeks out as he realizes he might need to move the key from the door frame to behind a window shutter or something. "What the hell are you doing here in the first place? You could have called me, you know?"
"Is it so wrong to visit a brother I haven't seen since high school?" Daniel smiles sadly as he slowly lands his surprisingly tangible feet on the floor. Alfred neglects to remember that his friend was just levitating in the air.
"No," Alfred frowns, gazing away from the other as he sits on his bed.
As he does that, Daniel notices the many bottles on the floor. "So, you've been drinking?" He kicks a few bottles away from his feet, shocked that they actually roll away.
"Yeah, but it was from a dare," Al rubs his face with a hand, sighing. "I was bored, couldn't sleep, so I texted my bro and he dared me to drink some alcohol so I could leave him the 'f-ing maple' alone so he could sleep."
The two smile and laugh as they know Matthew censors himself all the time.
"Did you have to drink so much to the point of ruining your voice, though?"
Al touches his throat and licks his lips. "It's not much now. It burned like hell, but I got through it." He hears a hum from his friend and he glances up at the standing figure. "So, what have you been up to lately?"
"Eh," Dan shrugs as he scrunches up his face in a 'so-so' fashion. "Not much. I mean, I've been feeling pretty dead lately, but other than that…" he trails off with another shrug.
"What do you mean?" Alfred asks in confusion. As he watches Dan open his mouth to answer, Al's phone rings. He checks the caller ID and smiles a little. He holds up a finger to his friend and picks up the phone. "Hey, bro! S'up? Why you calling so early in the morning? Couldn't get to sleep after texting me the dare?"
"Well," Matthew's voice stutters through the phone. He soon sighs from exhaustion, tired from not getting enough sleep. "I-I needed to tell you something. I figured you'd still be up, so I gave you a call."
"Oh yeah?" Alfred raises an eyebrow. "What is it you need to tell me?"
Before instantly reiterating what he heard previously from a heart broken, crying woman, Matthew bites his lip. "Do you remember that friend of yours from high school? The one who everyone believed was your real twin since you two got along so well?"
Matthew's stutter causes Alfred to sit up straight, knowing that something was wrong since his bro only stutters so much when he's troubled or sad. "You talking about Daniel? Daniel Beckett Jones? Yeah, I remember him," he glances at said friend as he smiles a little. "Why?"
"Uhm…well," Matthew pauses for a long minute.
The blond American soon begins questioning what could be wrong in his head. Did his mother pass away? He ponders. He would have mentioned something to me since he's here, though. I wonder what's up?
"H-His sister called me," the Canadian states. "I'm good friends with her still, so she keeps me up to date about things."
"Oh really?" Alfred lifts his eyebrows up as he grins. I totally forgot that he also gets like this after speaking to a girl who he has a crush on. "Are you two going out yet?"
"W-What?! N-N-No! Th-That's not why I'm calling you!" Alfred laughs at his brother's exasperated reaction. "She merely c-called me to share s-some news with me."
"Is she getting married?"
"No!" Alfred knows that his brother is probably furious and red. "Just shut up and let me speak!" The American hums, grinning from his teasing to his brother. "So, you do remember Daniel. W-Well, his sister informed me…of something." Alfred glances up at his friend again, concerned but also wondering if he should mention that Daniel is right there in front of him. "Alfred… She told me th-that h-he's… He's dead."
Note: One of many reasons why I rewrote the beginning 10 chapters of this story is so that Alfred can not be too freaked out over seeing Daniel but still react as one probably would. Also, I didn't like that there was too much light on my OC when the main thing of this story was to get Al and Arthur together. Well, now there's more than that, but it's still the main thing. In my opinion, I very much enjoy this version more than the other one. If any of you prefer the old one, that's absolutely okay. We all have our opinions. I'm not taking down the old one just for that reason, but know that I'm not completing the old version. The ending for this version will be the same anyway.
This is not beta-ed so there might be mistakes.
Ciao: I hope you enjoy the new version, dearies! Thanks for reading! R&R.