*Reformatted*
Special Thanks to AnaMachado and 10th Squad 3rd
Seat for their comments about Sealand and Texas' last names and certain corrections. I have fixed these issues so please enjoy.
Lovino glanced down the empty hallway as he backed himself into a classroom labeled 2132. His eyes darted back and forth until finally he pulled the wooden door shut in front of himself.
"Hola! (Hello!) You must be Lovino." The punk jumped, hastily spinning around to access the rest of the room. To his surprise, Lovino's irritating French teacher had been replaced by a seemingly overly friendly Spaniard.
"Who the hell are you?" A deeply tanned smile choose that moment to make itself known to its small Italian guest as matching, callused fingers ran themselves through thick, dark, curly locks.
"Why don't you just take a seat and I'll explain to everyone what is happening." Amber eyes rolled back in irritation at the carefree sporting of pearls as their owner drug himself to a self-assigned chair towards the back of the room. While he had planned to express said irritation by moving slowly, a glint of steel changed his mind as his Swiss peer flashed a night-black pistol. His eyes never once left the blonde's trigger hand as he hurried into the awaiting, uncomfortable, bright-blue chair.
"Bien! (Good!)" The Spanish-speaking adult clapped his hands together joyfully oblivious to the darkening atmosphere of the room. "Now that everyone is seated we can start-"
"Where the hell is our teacher?" A Mexican yelled out, looking up from his phone just long enough to notice the change in adults. Lovino couldn't help but agree with the raven-haired boy who was already distracted by a Hispanic song blaring from the bright red headphones hung loosely around his thick neck.
"Mr. Bonnefoy was caught with one of his students doing some uh…vulgar activities." He was surprised to see all eyes shoot to a small, blushing Englishman attempting to hide himself by sliding down in his chair.
"Bugger (Idiot/Blockhead)…" he mumbled, blush growing darker at the mere thought of what those 'vulgar activities' actually entitled. Lovino just shrugged knowingly, boredly carving designs into his arm with a set of red scissors.
"Uh… ok well, my name is Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo but you can call me Toni. I will be your anger management teacher for the remainder of the year."
"I give him a week." A German upperclassman snickered into his book.
Ignoring the distasteful comment, Antonio began to call role. "Ludwig?"
"Ludving" He corrected offhandedly, not once looking up from the fresh, crisp pages.
"Lo siento (I'm sorry), Luddy." A blonde brow twitched visibility, but the German just lifted his, now realized, World History textbook to burry his face. "Ivan?" He continued, slightly upset at the lack of verbal response.
A rather large Russian boy sent a canine-toothed grin at the speaker, causing a shutter to pass through even the toughest students. "Da (yes/yeah), that's me. Unless, of course, you're with the cops; then my name's Shane."
Ignoring the obvious statement that both names translated as Jonathan, the new teacher went back to his list. "Basch?"
"It's pronounced Bosh." The owner growled, tightening his grip on the black-tinted weapon in his jacket pocket.
"Again, lo siento (I'm sorry). Arthuuuur, never mind. I'm sure I can guess." He hadn't meant it as an insult but the other students defiantly seemed to take it that way.
"Ha! Teacher already knows your name! Try sneaking out now, ya slut!" The Mexican laughed, an angry Brit leaping to his feet.
"Silence your yip(Shut up), you bloody border-jumper!"
"Ah hell no, gringo(white/foreign person)!" A loud cough served as a well enough interruption before a cleaned out jar was shaken in front of the room.
"I was hoping not to have to explain this so quickly, but this, mis amigos(my friends), is what I call the 'bad boy jar'." Even Ludwig snickered from behind his over-read textbook. "Yes, yes, very funny. Now, every time you yell or get into a fight you have to put a dollar into the jar. At the end of the year, if you have improved, I will give you back your money as well as a special prize for whoever improved the most." Arthur nodded in agreement before placing a crisp, unwrinkled bill into the clear container before heading to his seat with a small 'seems fair enough'. Letting out an annoyed curse in Spanish, the other boy tossed in a wrinkled $5, not worrying about change. "Gracias(Thanks). I can continue now, si(yes)?" When no one protested he sat down the jar relifting the folded role sheet. "Lovinto(little Lovino)? Where are you sitting?"
"My name is Lovino, damnit!" The brunette finally snapped, fists clenched white over his now upturned desk. "Who the hell do you think you are coming in all happy-go-lucky? I don't need you and I don't fucking need this damn class!" He growled out, scissors falling to the ground forgotten along with trinkles of blood.
"Lovino, you're hurt-" Antonio attempted to console voice growing worried. Tears formed at the Italian's eyes, his own words finally reaching anger-reddened ears. Painful adrenaline pouring through, he pushed his way out the door. A loud slam sounded behind him, Arthur dusting off pale hands on ripper up jeans as if he somehow became filthy just by touching the thick wood.
"Finally basterd gone(Finally that basterd is gone)," a Chinese man smirked from where he stood in the back smearing paint over the nearly plastered wall; the holes from his last anger burst still visible.
"B'n'Ce(Be nice)." A Swedish boy mumbled, obviously embarrassed by his accent. Antonio could only blink, only now realizing just how hard it would be to teach this class. "Don' worry 'bout 'im, counc'lor'll bring 'im back in'a w'k 'r to'(Don't worry about him, the counselor will bring him back in a week or two) " The Spaniard shook himself out of his haze before reading off more names which Ludwig easily tuned out glancing sadly towards the door.
He understood exactly how it felt; left in the dirt, no parents to run to. It felt like shit and screaming seemed to be the only way to get it out. He wasn't part of the mafia like Lovino or Ivan- the two were always fighting- or homeless like Bash and their Mexican peer, Carlos, nor did he face abusive parents with high expectations like Arthur and Yao- the Chinese student- but he felt as if he belonged here. Ludwig's family was kind and his brother was always there for him-even his teachers treated him with respect- it was suffocating! He wanted to be hated, ignored, picked on; anything to bring excitement to his dull life. He finally snapped and his parents, reluctantly, threw him in anger management classes. Experience taught him that as long as he got into at least one fight per week he would get to stay- this was his true family.
Ignoring the current conversations breaking out he looked up at Berwald, the seemingly pissed glare felt warm as if welcoming him to the new semester. "Guten tag, Vati(Good day, Father)."
The soft-spoken man grunted in agreement, "I's'pp'se(I suppose)." After a long pause- not awkward by any means- the Swedish giant spoke again, "Tim' w'nt'd m' t'sk 'f y'd l'ke t'h'v l'nch w'th's t'd'y(Timo wanted me to ask if you would like to have lunch with us today)."
Ludwig flashed beer-stained teeth- drinking was common in his culture- at the offer, but shook his head. "Nein(No), I'm skipping lunch today; I'll be on the track field. It was nice of mom to offer though." Berwald grunted in understanding before leaving to ensure that Yao hadn't halted his previous task.
Ever since the Swedish man had joined their class he had acted like a father to the younger students- even though Ivan and Yao were juniors. He understood each person's preferences and assisted in any way he could. If Berwald was the father then Timo was the mother. The two seniors had gotten engaged around the end of junior year and were always together. While everyone else had been convinced that the loving treatment would end then, Timo was ecstatic about the idea of gaining 'step-children'- most of which openly referred to the small Finnish man as 'mom'.
Berwald was a strange case in the classroom- while he had no anger issues what-so-ever everyone thought he did due to the glare that always seemed to be plastered on his bespectacled face. His freshmen homeroom teacher- English- had gotten onto him for his bad grammar- something he couldn't help due to his accent- multiple times until- to cause less trouble- he stopped speaking completely. The teacher had been fired, but he still felt judged and refrained from emitting even simple sentences. He had been brought into the anger management classroom as a last hope to open him up and, although he wasn't overly talkative, it worked instantly. Despite the fact that Nicklas and Elizaveta- the only other students there when he joined- had already graduated, his openness continued to improve. Already 18, he owned an apartment with Timo and invited everyone over every Saturday- he never questioned if you came looking for someone to stay. Peter- a young boy from Sealand- had ran away from home and even had his own room where he slept everyday- his parents knew where he was but they just didn't care enough to bring him home. They bought the overly-active middle-schooler all kinds of books and toys as well as clothes and school supplies. They signed all his parent forms and were close with all his teachers. They had even been talking about asking his parents to let them adopt him. It was your basic stereotypical family, terrier and all.
Yao for one was very jealous. His family owned a bronze-making shop in Chinatown. He was always in some sort of long, exusting meeting- as the oldest of 6, he was expected to take over the family business- and school was his only break from it all. He wished that he could just sleep during class, but his parents demanded that he made at least a 95 in each course.
It anyone had more stress in school it was Arthur. Not only did he have to keep up his grades but he also had to worry about futball- his two older brothers were stars and his parents expected nothing less. His whole family was all about sports- his sister was even a black-belt in Swan Kwon Do. His coach always praised his skill, although he'd much rather join Loom or perhaps Super-Natural Club- he had always been fascinated by mythological creatures and swore he could see them.
Nobody seemed to understand this better then Francis Bonnefoy. The Frenchmen was a pretty bad pervert and at first they hated each other, but everyday Arthur let more of himself spill- he tried to hide his emotions but Francis always saw through his mask- both men felt that emotion break through blossoming into one containing much more warmth and feeling. They both knew it was illegal, but they made each other happy. Wasn't that all that mattered? It was like a never-ending, lust-filled dream shattered into pieces by cruel, jealous policemen. Taken away by thick, lead cuffs, Francis swore he would come for him when he got out. Although they had been separated, Arthur couldn't bring himself to think of it that way; they would see each other again. In fact, the blonde Brit couldn't help but blush at the mere mention of the wine-gurgling adult.
The speakers blared alerting the students to the end of third hour- the bell sounded like a raging siren- causing everyone to scatter to their next classes- except for Ivan who had the first lunch. "Auf Wiedersehen, Vati(Goodbye, Father)" Ludwig nodded as he replaced the stolen school textbook in his shoulder bag.
"G'bye(Goodbye), Ludd."
Ludwig's next class was World History- a favorite subject- in which he and his older brother resided- Ludwig was ahead of his class. The class- being in the same hall as his previous engagement- was quickly reached. The blonde let out a preparatory sigh opening the wooden door to the stereotypically chaotic classroom- room 2118- and was unshocked to see his albino brother poking fun at a mutual friend. Upon spotting the newcomer, the eldest German- the 'awesome one' as he called himself- instantly released his prisoner, choosing instead to latch an arm around his new captive.
"Yo, bruder(brother)! How was the red room(counselor/anger management room)? Heard that French dude got fired; bet the king was upset." Ignoring the overused joke- Arthur was most defiantly not a king- Ludwig carefully maneuvered to his seat, easily slipping out of his brother's grip. The elder let out a whine of protest at the removal of limbs, but followed behind never-the-less.
"It was fairly interesting- no punches were thrown- but not overly so. Herr(Sir/Mr.) Fernandez-Carriedo seems like a reasonable enough replacement. I think by the end of the year-"
"Booooooring!" Ludwig sighed- he was fairly used to his brother's interrupting outbursts by now- and started on the bell-ringer written neatly at the front of the classroom. "Hey, West, got any food on ya?" The one who called himself 'East' begged- due to the fact that his brother was more 'left-brained' versus his 'right-brained' self he often liked to point out the fact when he thought the other was getting boring.
"Eating in a classroom setting is highly inappropriate behavior, Gilbert." The albino's former victim pointed out while positioning a set of three freshly-sharpened pencils on his desk- he liked to keep things neat.
"Aw! Come on, Roddy! Don't be like that man!"
"My name is Roderich, and it would please me greatly if you ceased your yelling- the teacher has been calling for you to seat yourself for the past five minutes." Sure enough, their teacher, Mr. Mackenzie, was now eyeing their group with a slight glare glinting off his green eyes as he chewed slightly at the fag(cigar) between his teeth- smoking on campus wasn't allowed but the Scottish teacher claimed he required the sensation; the principal settled on allowing the action as long as it stayed unlit.
"Krauts(Germans)" He murmured loudly, clearly annoyed, as Gilbert finally slid into the desk behind his brother. Ludwig's lips bristled, clenching his pencil tight enough he feared it would snap- he recently had to buy a 20-pack and his current one was the only one to survive. If there was one thing he couldn't stand it was brainless stereotypes- even if, at this school explicitly, they were mostly true. Trying-and failing- not to get distracted, Ludwig drifted his eyes to the wall- his school really needed to install windows; it was like a prison. "And on July 4, 1776…" Letting out an inaudible moan- he had heard this all before; he had read ahead- the blonde flipped to a later page instead.
The class drug on until, at last, the bell for lunch vibrated off the map-covered walls. Nodding farewell to Roderich- Gilbert had claimed the need to relieve himself a half-hour before never to return- Ludwig retrieved his book-bag and headed in the direction of the track field.
A/N
Woh! My longest story yet and this is just chapter one! There are a few things I have to point out here:
room 2132 is literally the counselor's room at my school(we don't have an anger management room, sadly)
I based Mexico/Carlos off of the Mexicans in my school so if you guys act different then that elsewhere sorry
I am new to Spanish so I'm not very good yet(If I get something wrong feel free to correct me)
I made England/Arthur a punk because I think he looks better that way
if I mispronounced any names I'm sorry that was just how I thought they were pronounced
I changed Vash to Basch and Tino to Timo because I read somewhere that Basch and Timo are more common Swiss and Finnish names
Feliciano/ doesn't know that Lovino/ is in anger management classes
I wanted to include Mackenzie because it is my dad's last name and he's Scottish so I gave the name to a Scot(he spells it McKenzie but it can also be spelled Mckensie, MacKenzie, or Mackenzie)
Lovino is part of the Italian mafia because it started in
Switzerland is always talking about saving money so I made the reason he does that because he's homeless
Mr. Mackenzie is not Arthur's older brother just another Scot
futball=soccer
Swan Kwon Do(Not sure if I spelled it right) is a form of martial arts that focuses on kicks and takedowns
Arthur's older sister is and his brothers are Scotland, Australia, NZ, and Wales
Lovino cuts his arm with scissors when he's bored because I used to not even a year ago and I figured he would too
if you don't get Gilbert/ /Prussia's joke he was calling England King Arthur(from many knight tales)
I have snapped pencils far too often due to anger and wanted to portray that here
I'm half German and yet I really wanted to use the word Kraut(no clue why…)
The 4th of July is independence day in the U.S.A. for anyone who didn't know
2118 was my actual World History classroom last year(Although sadly I don't have a Scot as a teacher)
Peter/ Sealand is not England/Arthur's son/brother in this story
in my school we have periods instead of hours(each class is an hour and 45 min long), we have 4 lunches(11:02-11:38, 11:38-12:13, 12:13-12:48, and 12:48-1:18)
we only have 5 periods a day
it has always been my biggest wish to own a World History textbook so I let Germany/Ludwig live out the dream(I am such a nerd!) Canada and America come in next chapter!
Ludwig Beilschmidt- Wst. Germany
Arthur Kirkland- England
Francis Bonnefoy- France
Yao Wang- China
Ivan Braginski- Russia
Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo- Spain
Lovino Vargas-
Elizaveta Hedervary- Hungary
Roderich Edelstein- Austria
Gilbert Beilschmidt- Est. Germany/ Prussia
Basch Zwingli- Switzerland
Timo Vainamoinen- Finland
Berwald Oxenstierna- Sweden
Nicklas Johansen- Norway
Carlos Hernandez- Mexico
Peter Clarkland- Sealand
Austin McKinney - Texas
