FOR THE LOVE OF PASTA, READ THE DAMN WARNING!
IT IS THERE FOR A REASON…..
Warning: Some of these stories(not all) in the coming chapters will contain Yaoi, some of which may be hardcore. Yaoi is boy x boy love, man meat on man meat, all wieners-no buns. If you are not into that, do not read or complain. You have been fairly warned.
This story and Axis Powers Hetalia depicts people and persons as the direct personification of that nation/country, so if this concept bothers you, this might not be the right story for you, especially if you are unable to mentally grasp that these nations are centuries years old despite their outward appearance.
All people, persons, nations, and whatever represented in these stories are of legal age. No minors of any kind are depicted in these stories by the author, personal perception(s) of the reader(s) aside.
It boils down to this-
IF YOU DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ. IT'S THAT FREAKING SIMPLE!
"FACEPALM"…FOR THE LOVE OF DOITSU AND BEER…..
I have nothing against any characters/states/nations of Hetalia. I understand that everyone has their favorite characters/pairing. I know I do. If you don't like how a character(s) is portrayed, please don't be a hater about it. If you think the writing is shit(I don't know what you expect-it already states I'm a hack on my profile), then write your own damn story about the nations. It is a lot easier to critic that create. Please keep that in mind. And once again-
IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT, DON'T READ! NOT A HARD CONCEPT!
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APH Gakuen Hetalia USUK
One day I met a boy…
First off and most importantly, I am Alfred F. Jones and just maybe I should explain a few things about myself if for some reason you don't recognize my name.
I live with my father, a lawyer and a damn good one at that, in Washington D.C.. My mother lives with my identical twin brother Matthew in Quebec, Canada. Despite a spectacularly failed marriage of truly epic proportions which results with them being unable to be in the same room with each other for more that five minutes at a time, our parents did manage to do one amazing thing and that was to have us-my brother Matthew and I.
For lack of a better word, we're geniuses.
I mean real idiot savant type shit, make a movie out of you, geniuses. I built my first motherboard at the tender age of five, graduated with my first of many master degrees at nine, and by the time I was thirteen, was doing weapons consultation and space development for different sectors of the government. I am on speed dial for most major fortune 500 companies for projections and financial advice. NASA and every independent space program have been basically dry humping my leg ever since I made contact with extraterrestrial life and brokered a peace agreement with them(btw, you are so very welcome Earth). Their ambassador, Tony, lives with me as per our treaty. He is pretty cool for a little gray dude with no ears or nose. He really like Hot Pockets, video games, and Earth swear words(apparently, aliens don't have them…at least not the more colorful ones).
My bro, Matthew, while not tech gifted like myself, can make you feel color and see sound without illegal drugs. An artist that could make Michelangelo look like some amateur street performer and a musician that could put Mozart to shame, Matthew has done scores for countless movies on pure whim alone and has revolutionized the art world time and time again with his shows that shatter everyone's perceived notions on how the world can be viewed. Matthew has done this all under assumed names and personas. He literally is the most famous guy you will never know. Matthew likes his privacy even if it does make him invisible.
My own anonymity is kind of forced on me due to politics(intergalactic and homegrown) and through company contracts(AT&T would not like it getting out that their latest Iphone version was developed by someone who is just learning to drive with mixed results), though I am very famous in very private circles. Dropping my name can get you into or out of a lot of trouble depending who it is.
So that is me is a nutshell-boy genius, basically set for life, not a care in the world…..
Until one day, I met a boy…
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It was an ordinary day, literally nothing special. It wasn't like in the movies where events are set in motion by cosmic forces or serendipity. I wasn't looking for someone or anyone for that matter. I had been looking for a McDonalds. I was in New York City for some boring ass business meeting though you would have never guessed it by the way I was dressed-vintage WWII brown leather aviation jacket, low slung blue jeans over cracked cowboy boots, and a plain white t-shirt with my specially issued dog tags over them that would get me into more places than you could ever imagine.
I was just passing by a some random book store in the Village having completed my burger quest when I saw this blonde go into it.
He was short, wearing blue plaid pants with penny loafers, a stylized blue blazer, vest, and tie-obviously some sort of private school monkey suit. He had the biggest eyebrows I had ever seen on a person before but that wasn't what caught my attention.
It was the expression on his face.
Walking up to the bookstore he looked so cold, even downright hostile, like he would spit in the world's eye for even glancing at him the wrong way…
….but upon reaching the door of this rundown little family bookstore his face lit up to an expression of….
…bliss…just pure unadulterated bliss…like he had finally reached safe haven after a long and perilous journey.
It was beautiful…..he was beautiful.
I dropped my shake from shock numbed hands onto the street in my surprise in the face of such sheer beauty. Thankfully, the object of my adoration had already entered the building and did not bear witness to my clumsiness. Hastily disposing of my demised beverage, I followed him inside into the dank building.
It was a hodgepodge of a bookstore, all random stacks of various literature set out in no particular order, leaning in precarious towers all over any available floor and shelf space. Mismatched and banged up chairs were scattered about with an odd tea cup here and there, hiding out in the valleys of long forgotten novels with dust bunnies as their only company, tiny wayward ships of tepid fluid lost out at a word filled sea. The owner of the establishment sat behind a dusty counter, his nose buried in a book, some old hippie who barely even looked up at me as I entered.
I found my blonde buried deep in the leaning depths of the stacks, lost in dusty volumes of Shakespeare. He was practically bodily curled up around a thick tome of sonnets, his pale lips moving as they read the ancient words of rhyme and measure. My attention was drawn to them entirely, my will to look elsewhere at the moment lost to those praying pilgrims.
They were full and sculpted, the faintest shade of pink. Their petal like surface looked so soft and plaint. I wondered how he would taste as his tongue darted out ever so often to moisten them in his soft reading.
His skin was alabaster. I never believed that anyone could have such milky skin or that I would ever use that word to describe it. It was dew like in its perfection and I longed to mark it as my own.
His hair was pale gold, all choppy and spiky. It stuck up in all directions to trail stray tendrils down his slender neck. It was made more striking in it metallic color by his aforementioned dark brows, the fringe of it mixing oddly harmonious with the top of them.
He turned the pages of his book almost reverently with long elegant fingers, like it was a religious text, his hooded gaze lingering on the yellowed pages with a strange longing that tore at me. His long dark lashes brushed the tops of his creamy cheeks delicately as butterfly wings…..
…..and I was being a total creeper about all this, staring at him through the stacks. I must have made a sound or he just knew when someone was staring holes into his head. My blonde looked up at me and I was blown away.
They were green…his eyes…..I had never seen such green eyes before and never will again. They were the color of forests in spring, of fabled glens told in tales by hobbits, of hidden and lost places untouched. They were acid, burning through the very layers of my souls. They were pools in which I could see myself…..
"What the bloody hell do you think you are looking at you git!?", my blonde asked, his impressive brows furrowing deeply as he pinned me with his endless emerald glare.
Oh fuck me sideways, Merry Christmas, Happy Birthday to me, he was English. Game over, thank you for playing, come again…..
I love him and I will make him mine no matter what it takes or how much is costs me, financially, physically, or emotionally. If he doesn't swing that way, I….wait do I even swing that way?….whatever, moot point, looks like I do now, I will totally have a sex change…
…..Wait a minute…..maybe, I should just ask him out first before I decide on any major surgery or anything else too hasty….getting ahead of myself….I tend to do that…
….wait…..how long have I been doing internal monologue while staring at him not saying anything with my mouth hanging open?
"Knob.", my vision of British loveliness swore at me, getting up hastily to shove past me, clutching his book to his slender body.
….Oh…that long…well….
…..fuck…..
I, boy genius, modern day prodigy, idiot savant…
…and now just plain idiot, had fallen head over heels in love.
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Finding the love of my life was easy enough, especially for someone like me. The blazer was a dead giveaway. My blonde went to the World Academy, a very private school based here in the Big Apple. Think of a private academy with all the bells and whistles for the rich brats of CEO's, ambassador's kids, blah, blah, blah….state of the art facilities, dormitories, etc, etc,. It was literally a little city within the city. I found myself wondering why my little love nugget felt the need to leave it to traverse to some little dingy bookstore in Soho. Surely the campus had better resources.
I found out his identity by hacking into all the cameras in New York(God, I love big cities for this) and pulling up his school profile ID. The love of my life's name was Arthur Kirkland. He was class president and the son of Lord Kirkland of England. Curious, I went a step further and took a look into his home life.
Some more computer leg work later(really, government computers are so easy to slice and dice) I found out that Arthur was the youngest son of Lord Albion Kirkland who apparently was one hell of a promiscuous son of a bitch. He had three older sons, all bastards, by three different woman. The guy took a rather interesting and unique tour of the UK. The oldest was Connor from Scotland, the Irish twins-Ryan and Murphy, and Hywel from Wales, making Arthur the youngest and the only legit son. Lord Kirkland had actually deigned to marry his mother, on English woman of the name Emily. She had passed away soon after Arthur was born though. It looked like he was set to inherit everything.
Judging though from his record at Scotland Yard, Arthur was a bit of a rebel and had run into some trouble-mostly disorderly and drunken conduct. His mug shots were adorable though. I really hoped that some of those facial piercings were still open. Turned out my little Shakespeare darling used to be a punk. I wondered how much of him was still.
After bailing Arthur out of trouble-for the umpteenth time-Lord Kirkland took an ambassador position and packed up his entire family to move them all to NYC.
…..Interesting….
The more and more I thought about it, the more it intrigued me. The boy who had taken haven in an old book store did not come off as a punk….
…..more like someone lost…
I spun around in my chair trying to decide to the best way to approach this. The school's symbol in the corner of my screen caught my eye as a slow wide grin spread on my face, an idea already forming in my head. I called my old man.
"Hey dad! Looks like I'm going to stay in New York for a while!"
"What for?", he asked surprised. New York isn't one of my favorite hangout cities cause of business. I am more of a Tokyo, Seattle, Stockholm kind of guy. I like my modern hangouts fast and wireless. If you are wondering, Mattie likes San Francisco, Paris, and of course Florence, little visual art whore that he is.
"Something came up. I'm moving out here for a while till it's done.", I answered lightly, grinning as I heard my father huff into the phone.
"Al, I am still the parent here. You just can't call and inform me that you have decided to live in New York.", Dad told me in a tone he usually reserved for the court room. How cute. Pops wanted to play 'Leave it to Beaver' dad.
"True, but I can inform you I can still legally divorce you as a parent and sue you for incompetent misuse of my personal funds. While you waste time with that, I'll roll over another cool couple of million while you drain your retirement fund.", I said calmly in almost teasing tone. Poor bastard. I had read all of dad's law books by age eight and had already taken the bar at eleven purely for shits and giggles. There was a long pause over the line.
"Valid point. Enjoy New York and try to stay out of trouble. You know I hate those late night phone calls from the president."
"Love you too Dad. Tell Tony move his gray ass off of the couch and come join me if he wants.", I grinned. It was all in good fun and Dad knew I would never make good on my threat. He enjoyed the counterpoint though, it kept him on his toes. My next phone call was to my brother.
"Hey Mattie! Do ya wanna go to high school with me bro?!"
"….."
"….."
"…..What?"
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Getting into the school was a cinch….or was supposed to be. With my grades and money, they should have been paying me to go there. Wanting to keep it quiet of who and what I was …that was another matter entirely as I met with the Head Master of the World Academy.
The Headmaster was an older Italian guy, the real right off of the boat variety not the watered down Jersey Shore version. He had dark sun bronzed features, rich chocolate hair with two peculiar curls(though I am not one to judge-I have a defiant piece of hair on my forehead that I have affectionately dubbed Nantucket), piercing brown eyes that held a devilish twinkle in their depths, and a wide easy smile.
"You do realize that this is highly unusual.", Rome said slowly, looking over my transcripts. I could technically run the entire science department on my amount of master degrees alone. Hell, I was way more qualified to teach it than some of the jokers they had hired.
"How much does 'highly unusual' cost?", I asked, cutting to the chase. It's amazing the amount of bullshit you can avoid by just throwing money at it.
"Well…..I have been wanting to give my grandsons(Wait a hot minute! Grandsons?! How old was this guy?!) a new gallery to show off their work…..it's just an idea though. A foolish notion of a doting grandparent.", Rome said with a sly smile, the wily bastard. I wrote down an amount. He raised an eyebrow at it.
"I was hoping for a nice one. They are twins.", he sighed dramatically, playing the theatrics to the hilt. I rolled my eyes as I added on another zero to the amount. He nodded, quickly taking the check with a wolfish grin.
"Welcome to the World Academy Mr. Jones. It's wonderful to have you here with us." Rome grinned.
"My brother will be here soon from Canada.", I added warily, not surprised to see the old man's eyes light up. He rubbed his stubbly chin thoughtfully.
"I was thinking about putting in a garden to go along with that gallery….."
"Of course you were.", I sighed as I reached for my checkbook again. Greedy old bastard.
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I kept busy my first day, ditching class and acquainting myself with the school. I briefly considered joining the football team until I found out it was just soccer. I avoided seeking out my love right off until I could calm down a bit and not have a repeat moment of awkwardness. I also didn't want to scare the guy off in my excitement by saying something stupid like " Hi! I'm the creeper from the bookstore. I just dropped a small fortune to come stalk you at your school. Oh and I hacked into just about every major government website to view you and your family's history, so no worries there either. Can I buy you an island?"
…..Yeah…..totally normal and not creepy…..
I presented myself finally the next day to a class who barely batted an eye at such a late arrival in the semester. Part of my deal with Rome was Arthur's class schedule and a seat near him. I didn't know how the old man pulled it off but he did. After a brief but enthusiastic intro, I plopped myself down beside my future husband. He didn't even look up at me, his pert nose deep in a book.
Hmmmmmmm…this might take longer than I expected….