Leave a Light On

Chapter 1

Everyone dies. It isn't one of the great secrets of the universe. It is a fact we all wish to avoid. It catches up eventually, but the chase is the thrill of the game.

Death, as Alfred F. Jones of 4203 Martin Luther King Dive in Franklin, Massachusetts understood it, was all in perspective. The teen thought about it like this- there were two types of death: the no- good, you'll-never-see-Grandpa-again-but-here-have-a-stuffed-giraffe-for-your-troubles kind and the kind where everything as you knew it change.

Both kinds terrified him. He didn't want either; the idea made his head hurt. Luckily for Alfred, the concept of death never reached his tiny suburb and the athletic boy was able to have a relatively peaceful life until the August that the McKiney's sold their house.

The McKiney's were old, too old for Alfred's tastes. They yelled when Alfred and his 'baby' brother, Matthew, played. It wasn't his fault that the basketball had landed on their stupid Chihuahua, and Matthew had thrown it anyways. Kids messed up, you know? But the angry couple hadn't let it go, and complained to the boys' parents. Naturally, Alfred took the blame. Matthew had innocent puppy eyes that made Emily Jones's will shatter to pieces, and Alfred wouldn't let his twin brother get hurt. His dad, Tim, had given him ice cream that night, though.

"I know that you covered for Mattie today, Al," Tim ruffled his hand in his son's golden locks, "You tried to look out for him, just like an older brother should. Which is great, of course, kiddo! I'm proud you did that without me telling you to, but tell us the truth next time, okay?"

That was when the boys were six. Eleven years had changed the opinions of the neighbourhood. Thomas announced that they were moving in March, and a huge party had been thrown the night of the McKiney's departure. Music was blasted into the crisp June night and the family was openly mocked. Alfred had just been glad to be rid of the couple. His friends were scared to come over because Janis McKiney would always watch out of her lace curtains.

It was a relief to have them gone, for sure. The couple hadn't kept up with the yard or the house, so it looked like a place out of a horror movie. The yellowed grass was over grown, creating a barrier around the run-down Victorian home. The walls had a dull, white coating that was chipping away to show the old wood underneath. It had become an eyesore for the block, a smudge on an otherwise perfect community.

The entire situation vexed Alfred's parents. Tim had announced to anyone who would listen that he could finally get that promotion he had been deserving with a few more parties, without any neighbours to be embarrassed of, and Emily gossiped with the others that maybe they would finally get a family who cared about appearances.

Alfred could have cared less, though. It was a party, and Alfred lived for parties. Especially the ones with cookouts- his father's burgers were to die for. He could feel himself almost drooling in excitement.

In fact, he thought, I'll get one now. The teen pushed himself out of the cream-coloured lawn chair and slid through the crowd of guests, trying to reach the grill, when his path was blocked by a delicate hand that shot out in front of his face.

"Alfred," Emily called sweetly, "Would you come here, please?"

Alfred fought back a groan, putting on the cheerful smile he knew she wanted. He stepped into his mother's circle, towering over the two women chatting with her. "Yeah, mom?" He stopped next to Emily's right shoulder.

"I was just talking to Sara and Lauren about your and Matthew's sports, and Sara was hoping you could take her niece, Chloe, to one of your games. Her family just moved into our district, so she doesn't know anyone yet, but she loves baseball. What do you say, dear?" Emily's eyes were hopeful, but hid the threat: Get a girlfriend or your life will be hell. Alfred wondered how awful this girl would be.

Sara was carrying on about Chloe. "Oh, you'll just love her, Alfie," He hated being called Alfie; it made him feel like a little boy, "Chloe is my niece from my sister. She's a social butterfly, and she's a very pretty girl too. She should fit right in," Sara started to rummage through her purse, searching for a picture, but it was all for show. The photo had been at the very top.

The picture showed a girl with long blonde hair that exposed the beginnings of dark roots, next to a middle-aged woman with curly brown hair. Alfred hated dyed hair. "Oh, she looks just like you, Mrs. Saenwood, you and your sister are nearly identical! You must be excited to have them near."

Alfred just wanted to leave for his burger. He could smell the delicious food waiting to be eaten, but Emily's hand had found its way to his right arm and was holding it in a tight grip that told him leaving would bring consequences. He was forced to sit through more dull conversation about how fantastic Chloe was until his stomach made a low growl. His mother finally released her grip, and he was finally free! Free to get the food he so desperately craved!

Alfred took two hamburgers from the hot grill, hissing as he got too close to the heat. Tongs were for wimps. He just wanted his burgers. Alfred moved through the crowded patio, shaking his left hand to get any remaining heat out as he walked towards the treehouse he knew his brother would be inside. The cool grass rubbed against his feet, matting under his flip-flops. Looking up, Alfred sighed. The huge treehouse rested in the branches of the large oak tree with the steps of the ladder nailed to the trunk. There was no way he could get up to the house with the plate in hand, Alfred needed both hands to climb. "Yo, Mattie!"

The younger blonde's irritated face popped over the balcony, his metal glasses threatening to slip off his sculpted nose as he hung his head down to look at his brother. "What, Al."

"Hold onto my food," Alfred whined and held the red paper plate up, trying to shield himself from his twin's wrath as he peeked around the plate to plead upwards. "Please? I wanna come up too."

"You are so helpless. And stupid. Did you really need more burgers, fatass?"

"Hey, don't be mean! I brought you fries and everything," Alfred laughed as he pushed the plate upwards to meet Matthew's outstretched arms. Matthew grumbled as he disappeared into the house with Al's food, muttering about how he wanted a coke instead.

Alfred popped his body through the opening of the planks and entered the chestnut wood treehouse. Matthew had set the plate on the 'coffee table' and was lounging on the worn, plaid couch, bobbing his head to the music playing softly from his iPod, already munching on the fries from the plate. Alfred swatted his legs to tell him to move.

Matthew and Alfred were twins, but not identical ones. Both boys were just under 6 feet tall and had wheat-coloured hair surrounding faces accented by glasses. Alfred's hair, however, was cut short, just above his ears with a cowlick that would not lie down. Matthew had wavy hair that fell below his ears with an erratic curl that fell on his right side. The twins had different eyes too. Alfred's eyes matched the sky, as Emily liked to tell her friends (or anyone who would listen, really), and Matthew's own were a dark blue that could almost pass for purple. The personalities of the boys divided them further. Alfred was as loud and wild as a hurricane, while Matthew was a gentle wind. The boys loved each other, though, and could tell each other anything.

"I hate these parties," Matthew huffed, "No one ever wants to talk to me. Either I'm too quiet for them or I say the wrong things."

Alfred wanted to scoff. "They just can't handle you then. You say the best things I've ever heard."

Matthew hummed in acknowledgement as the boys stared out the glass window at their house. Alfred found himself hoping that the house next door wouldn't be like theirs when it was bought. The old Victorian home was unique. It added flavor to the upscale, uniformed neighbourhood. Alfred tried to explain this to Matthew, but the younger twin threw his head back and laughed, before pushing his glasses up with his left finger. "I know what you mean. The house is cool, even if the McKiney's weren't. But we won't have to worry about the house just yet."

The older boy knit his eyebrows together. "What do you mean? It's up for sale, of course the new owner is going to want to change it."

"Yeah, but, I mean… Think about it! The place is a dump right now, it's completely rundown, only a family with way too much time or money on their hands will spend money on it. Most families that move to this neighbourhood are looking for something a) Classy, b) Ready-made, and c) Already perfect. If they were so intent on living here, there are houses that don't need work in a mile radius," Matthew explained, "Al, there's no need to worry. We have time."

The more he thought about it, the more he saw the logic in Matt's words. A family who buys a house that needs to be fixed will either restore it or completely restart. It was more likely that it would just be fixed up. Families that were willing to work for a dream house were hard to come by. His parents would have to live with the disappointment.

In the third week of June, Emily had commanded her sons to spend time outside. The boys had spent two days straight playing Left 4 Dead 2, and she could no longer take the cursing coming from the basement as the boys slayed their way through the zombie crowd. She thought the idea had been great, but from the way her sons had yelled at her over breakfast, it seemed like she had been wrong.

"Mom, that is so unfair!"

"Seriously? Seriously. We are totally healthy."

Alfred looked like he had just been told the world would end on his birthday. His fork was forgotten on his plate, lying untouched next to his partially eaten bacon and French toast. He was attempting to sway her choice with his eyes, but it wasn't working.

"Oh, come on, boys. I did not raise you to be lazy. Besides," She placed a used glass from the sink into the dishwasher, "It'll be fun. You can play basketball. You guys like basketball. You need to keep in shape for your sport seasons. Matt, darling, stop glaring and finish your bacon."

While his twin was speechless, Matthew was not. "You're a monster."

"Oh, but I put honey on it and everything," Emily chose to ignore her son. Where did all that attitude come from? He used to be a sweet boy. "Do either of you want orange juice?"

"No." Matt's glare intensified when Alfred raised his hand for some. He hissed at his brother, calling him a traitor.

"You are going outside. You will play a game, and I will enjoy having this house to myself for a few hours," The woman directed her glance to the door," Put on sunscreen before you go."

If it was anymore possible, Alfred's jaw dropped further. He stuttered out "Bu… But, Mom, we haven't even finished."

"You can eat outside, hurry up," Emily decided she wanted to take a bubble bath. That sounds good, she chirped to herself. As she walked out, Matthew muttered to Alfred about just hiding in the garage, "I heard that!"

As Emily exited the bath, she decided she needed to do that more often. She loved her husband and sons, but she craved being alone sometimes. The mother lived for the time when she could just sit down without any distractions, and read books or take two hour baths like she just had. Emily made a mental note to thank Tim again for the new bathtub, the jets inside felt great. She pulled on her gold earrings as she left the room, stopping at the sliding door. From her view at the patio, she could see her sons playing basketball in the yard, both boys with bright smiles on their faces. Emily wanted to freeze this moment, to keep them with her forever.

But, life had to go on, and she couldn't freeze it because she was feeling selfish. She opened the door separating her from her sons and called out to them. "Are you hungry yet?"

Her Alfie spun around and crowed out a yes with a bright smile. Matt responded with a smirk. "You're always hungry, Al. This doesn't count," which made Alfred pull his brother into a headlock.

"If you two are done, I'd like the flowers in the front watered. It won't take long. I can make sandwiches while you do that." With these words the boys sped off, only to come back soon after.

Alfred jumped in front of her, forcing his mother to take a step back in surprise. "Mom, Mom! You'll never guess what just happened, you'll never gue-"

"MOM!" Matthew ran into view, his curl bouncing with his steps, "Someone just bought the McKiney's house!"

Emily blinked as the two boys started to argue about who should have told her. Well, she decided, that didn't take long.

Mr. and Mrs. Jones were thrilled to learn about their new neighbours, if only for the knowledge that the house next to theirs would no longer bring them shame when they had guests. They, along with the other families on the block made plans about when and how they would great the neighbours, what the new family was like, what they did for a living. The McKiney's had been retired, there was no source of pride in the community from them so they could gloat about 'Well-my-neighbour-is-a-lawyer/brains surgeon/business owner, so-suck-it-career-rivals." to be had from them. Mr. McKiney had been a high-ranking naval officer, which was perfectly respectable but not normal in their area. They needed someone to fit in.

The planning went to waste though, and the house sat empty and broken for another month before anything happened. After waiting for a week, one person suggested they wanted to remodel before they came and yet nothing happened. The block was disappointed.

The next week, someone else suggested that they must be tying up loose ends before they moved, because the real estate agent had informed the Carsons that it was a family moving in as soon as they could. The block agreed to this, thinking it the most logical answer, and set about dreaming about what children could be coming. Alfred found that he could not care less about the stupid children, he just hoped they wouldn't be annoying.

By the third week, Alfred's family had lost all interest in the empty house. When no one had moved in, the neighbours gave up and went back to their lives until a moving van had pulled up along the streets. Emily had panicked and shoved polos and clean shorts at her sons as she herself tore up the house looking for her blue dress while her husband watched uninterested. The family piled out of the house and ran across the decaying grass. The Joneses were not the only family there- the Carsons, the Parkers, and the Skrepskis were there too.

Two of the movers had unpacked a beige couch with plush cushions and were carrying it into the house. A third, who stared at the visitors, was holding a rectangular end table with dark wood. "Can I help you folks?"

Mrs. Skrepski smiled sweetly as she shifted her son onto her hip. She giggled as she spoke to the worker. "Oh," she began, "We were just hoping to meet the family."

"Sorry ma'am, but you'll just have to wait. They just told us to move the furniture and set everything up. We don't know when they'll come."

Emily forced a smile, and said "Thank you for your time," before she spun on her heel, head held high as she stalked back to the house. She ranted that night to Tim, shouting Who waits TWO MONTHS to move into their house? And Who even waits this long to visit their new house? The next morning her temper had gone down, but Matthew and Alfred had still been to terrified to speak, she could snap at any point. Emily's bad mood cleared though, three days later. A Red Nissan Maxima sputtered down the street, pulling into the house's dirty driveway.

Their mother had shoved Matthew and Alfred out of the house as she tried to smooth down her purple shirt at the same time she raked her fingers across Alfred's wild cowlick and push up Matthew's glasses. The trio had almost reached the sidewalk when Emily gasped loudly and ran into the house, appearing seconds later with a plate of cookies that she shoved into Matthew's arms.

Two male figures had exited the car and were almost inside the house. Neither had noticed the family yet. The older, a tall man with short brown hair, rummaged through the pockets of his charcoal trousers for what Alfred could only assume to be the keys to the house. Why wouldn't he grab them before? I would.

The boy standing next to him drew Alfred's attention away. He was much shorter than the man next to him. He had choppy blond hair that Alfred knew his mom would have a heart attack if she ever saw on him, and looked to be about seventeen or eighteen years old. He wore a tight sweatshirt with pale blue stripes that were set against murky grey. It covered the top of his washed out jeans that were tucked into darkened leather combat boots. Alfred chuckled. The boots had to give him an extra boost, which meant he was even shorter. The boy carried a cardboard box in his hands that held leafy plants and what appeared to be heavy books. He nudged the other man with his box and mumbled something indistinct.

The peaceful moment crashed down when Emily called out a loud hello to the pair as the man had turned the key in the lock. The males jumped and whipped around, identical green eyes widened in shock.

"Single parent?" Alfred muttered to his twin, turning his head towards the other so that that sound would not carry to the strangers. His eyes never left the smaller boy.

Matthew barely shook his head. "No, they're too close in age. Brothers, I think."

Almost as if he had heard the younger twin, the tall man's eyes flashed in anger and he pushed the boy through the unlocked door, slamming it shut as the blonde passed the entryway. He snapped out at the intruders of his lawn, "What do you want." A light accent marked his words. Alfred couldn't place it. Irish, maybe?

Emily folded in on herself but she managed a brilliant smile. "We're the Joneses… We live in the house next yours. We just wanted to welcome you," she gestured with her hand to Matthew, straightening up a little, "Who was that? He looked about the same age as my sons. Maybe he'd like to hang out with them. We brought cookies. Maybe you two could come over if you're not too busy."

"No, thanks." What are the other accents? Maybe it's Scottish. Alfred was too distracted by the accent to notice the man picking his box up and walking inside. The sound of the door slamming rang through the street.

The boys shared a look and Alfred had the feeling in the pit of his stomach that this wouldn't end well. He had seen to many horror movies to not notice this: a new family came to a neighbourhood, the new family was antisocial, the new family eats their neighbours. His brother's eyes warned him about getting carried away though, so he tried to relax.

"Maybe they're shy," Emily started, "We can try again later when they're settled." Alfred rubbed his hands on his temples. Couldn't they see? That was always how the movies started. He opened his mouth to say something to his mother, to warn her, but Matthew stomped on his feet. The older blonde cried out. "Oh, Alfred, sweetheart, what happened?"

"It's nothing, Mom," Matthew reassured her with a smile, "He just tripped again, like always."

Arthur Kirkland watched the street outside from where he sat on the windowsill. He was running his thumb over the gold pendant he wore around his neck, ignoring the sounds that came from the kitchen as his brother Oliver unpacked the dishes.

He stopped his movements as the noises turned into footsteps behind him, but he didn't bother to turn around until a hand was laid on his shoulder.

Oliver looked down at him, his face filled with concerned. "Hey, aren't you going to unpack? All the big boxes are in your room already."

"I want to go home." Arthur turned back to the window.

His brother sighed behind him and moved his hand to tousle the blond hair beneath him. "We are home. For now. Come on, Arthair, it's only for a bit." Arthur swatted the hand away, mumbling about how he was getting too old for nicknames. "Oh, are you now? So, I suppose I should tell James that our baby brother doesn't need us anymore, and he wants to be all alone so we should never, ever, ever talk to him again. Hmm?"

The younger boy stuck out his tongue and stood up. "Whatever. When will James and Peter be coming? Has James said when we can go home yet?"

Arthur felt his spirits crumble when Oliver wouldn't meet his eyes. "Well, you know, Arthair, James has a lot of things he needs to take care of… Don't give me that look, you know how careful we have to be. It'll work out, okay."

"You wouldn't have to be careful if you would just stop this."

"Arthur…" A hand reached out, but it was avoided.

"I don't want to talk about this. Who were those people outside?"

Oliver gave him a sad look, but did not press. "It was just some nosy neighbours. You remember what I told you right? Don't talk to anyone, no one can know we're out here. If Father finds out, you have to go back and he won't let you see us."

"I remember, okay? I'm not stupid, Brawd," Arthur scoffed and turned away, lifting up a discarded blanket to look for something.

"Gwarndo I mi, Arthur! I'm serious!" Oliver shouted as he pulled the boy up to look him in the eyes, "Be careful, okay? For once, think before you do something, please."

Arthur bent down again, his blonde fringe covering his eyes. "Okay," he mumbled before he looked up and straightened his back, "I promise." He bent over a stack of books before he found what he was looking for. He pulled up a small lantern that was covered with small stars and moons, except for the middle. An intricate sun was cut out of the metal that would filter the light from the candle within, a molted yellow thing that had obviously seen use daily. "Would you do the honours?" Arthur lifted the lantern to Oliver's level with an impish smile.

The taller man smiled back at him and lifted his fingers. Oliver opened a hatch behind the sun and snapped his fingers together. A fire sprang up on the wick and burned a bright yellow.

END OF CHAPTER 1

That end scene shamelessly written to Seven Devils by Florence +the Machine, which I highly suggest to get the whole feeling of what I was writing. Just sayin'. It goes well.

The language used with Oliver and Arthur is Welsh. It was translated by Google, so it may not be the best, sorry Welsh speakers. Oliver is Wales, James is Scotland. If you don't like them, they won't be in the story except for one other plot point. Emily and Tim are just OC's, along with everyone else on the street. I'm not using them often, but they are needed.

Disclaimer: I do not in any way, shape, or form own Florence + the Machine or Axis Powers: Hetalia. Florence + the Machine is signed with Universal Island Records and belongs to the wonderful Florence Welch and Axis Powers: Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himuraya. If I owned either one, I would not be writing because I would be in a fangirl-coma.

Thank you so much for reading, please drop a review too!