Hi and welcome to Nothing But Treble
...Again
Okay this is literally my 3rd time rewriting this, but I want to stick with it and I told myself I would rewrite it and now I am!
I really love music and there is a school by my house that is all music and I thought it would be cool to go there
Then I thought, "hey I could write an ff about this"
And poof!
This story was born!
Sorry for rambling I will stop now...
I don't own the picture. I got it off google images. I give total credit to whoever the amazing artist is!
Chapter song= 'A Whole New World - Aladdin' (Yeah Disney)
Edit 21.01.13
Warnings: Strong language.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
CHARACTERS BY INSTRUMENT: (subject to change)
Flute: Switzerland [12], Ukraine [11] and Seychelles [09]
Piccolo: Liechtenstein [09]
Oboe: Poland [10]
Clarinet: Hungary [12], Belgium [11] N. Italy [10] and S. Italy [10]
Bass Clarinet: Netherlands [12]
Bassoon: Estonia [09]
Alto Saxophone: Turkey [12], England [11], Australia [10] and New Zeland [09]
Tenor Saxophone: Greece [12] and Germany [10]
Trumpet: Denmark [12], Norway [11], America [10] and Lithuania [10]
Trombone: France [11], Prussia [11], Spain [11] and Canada [10]
French Horn: Sweden [12], Finland [12] and Iceland [10]
Tuba: Russia [10]
Baritone: Belarus [09]
Drums: China [12], Japan [11], S. Korea [10], Taiwan [09] and Hong Kong [09]
*The numbers are associated with year in high school according to the AMERICAN SCHOOLING SYSTEM! Please check Google for conversions.
January 3rd
"Come on," Alfred shouted. Alfred F. Jones Williams was a tall, rather chubby, adolescent. His gold hair was neatly parted to one side, somewhat reminiscent of the 1940s, where an obnoxious cowlick erected towards the smog-filled sky resembling the skyscrapers surrounding him. Veiling his sapphire eyes were a pair of glasses teetering on his nose as he ran. Ill prepared for the winter, the American wore an over-sized blue t-shirt, a pair of ripped jeans, black low top converse and a bomber jacket, another item dating back to the 1940s. He weaved clumsily through the crowd of diverse appearances, managing to bump his backpack or suitcase or instrument case into a pedestrian without apologizing. Alfred glanced over at his half-brother and repeated "come on."
Matthew panted. "Slow down," he reprimanded when he finally reached Alfred when the crosswalk was red. Overall, Matthew Williams had a petite physique. Similar to his brother, he had wheat blond silk ringlets which reached closer to his slender shoulders than Alfred. In place of a cowlick was a ringlet of hair that constantly fell into his soft features. The Canadian had an identical pair of grey wired glasses sitting on his nose which did little to cover his amethyst irises. Comparable to his half-brother, Matthew wore a red sweatshirt, a pair of jeans and high top converse; both unable to anticipate the harsh weather conditions. Despite their obvious similarities in appearance, the brothers' personalities were polar opposites. Alfred was rash and loud while Matthew was quiet and cautious. "Do you even know where you're going?"
"Nope," Alfred stated. The American raised brother followed the multitude of grey dressed businessmen cross the street, despite the signal being red. That was how New York City was, right? New Yorkers crossed the streets due to the fact that they were always rushing to get to their destination time which would cause all of the taxi cars to remain at a stand-still. "But it's simple. One way the numbers go up and the other way they go down. We just need to find 61st street. How hard could it be?"
"We should've taken a cab," Matthew muttered as a puff of smoke breathed out from his lips from the weather. Of course, the two boys from Virginia would not be prepared for the winter weather of New York, but all of their hustling around the city had to warm them up a bit.
"But this is more fun!" Alfred exclaimed all too cheerful. "See, we're at 61st!" His arms swung in a feeble attempt to fist pump which succeeded in smashing another man with his trumpet case, whom now gave him an acrimonious look.
Alfred and Matthew gazed up at the intimidating stone building in front of them with their backpacks slouched on one shoulder and instruments in the other. The building itself looked as old as America itself, with columns and gargoyles decorating the exterior. The entire regal facility stretched from 61st to 65th with various buildings included in the design, making Alfred and Matthew at a disadvantage. The brothers could not believe a day ago, they were huddled in their small farm in Virginia, brushing horses and feeding slop to theirs pigs, not that it was entirely bad. Now, they were in New York City and stood in front of the famous World Academy, a school notable for its diverse student body.
"Ah, you must be the Williams brothers," a foreign voice began suavely. He was fairly youthful – tanned skin and a muscular frame – and chiseled features. He wore an off-white ruffled dress shirt and a maroon tie which were tucked into a pair of black trousers. His eyes matched the colour of olives as he scanned the two blonds.
"Actually, my last name is Jones," Alfred correctly brusquely and shook the man's hand. He really did not appreciate it when others assumed his last name was Williams. Jones had a sort of ring to it that the other did not.
"Dearly sorry about that. Let me introduce myself. I am Dr. Vargas, but you can call me Roma if you so wish." Dr. Vargas, or Roma, was not what Alfred or Matthew expected to be the headmaster of the school. They pictured a man in a stiff, grey uniform that lacked any personality aside from yelling at students to do better. However, Roma seemed quite immature and unprofessional for his occupation.
Roma's eyes drifted towards the boy's bags and explained all too cheerfully "let me get someone to take these to your dorm."
"Oh, that won't be necessary," Matthew spoke up shyly.
"Don't be so modest," Roma said dismissively with a large motion of his hand. "It is a pleasure to have you two here. After all, you are on scholarship." The two brothers were nationally acknowledged for their music talents after they appeared on the Oprah Winfrey Show for participating in a charity event to raise money for pancreatic cancer. "Besides, you are late for first period."
Alfred scratched the nape of his neck guiltily. He couldn't help but to stop at every corner in midtown and take a dozen pictures. He was practically a tourist, after all. He, as well as his brother, had never actually visited the lofty skyscrapers of New York for they could not muster enough money working in their small town or on the farm. "Yeah, sorry about that," he started with an awkward chuckle. "You know how the city is."
"Of course," he hummed to himself, as if to reminisce; courtesy of his accent, it was obvious he was not born in the States. "Now here are your schedules."
Alfred and Matthew both glanced at their schedules, eyes wide at all of the extra courses they would be taking when compared to their former school. Everything from astrophysics to zoology was on the curriculum, classes they were never offered, or even heard of, before. They thanked Roma for everything and raced off towards the music department with a bounce in their step.
"Alfred, do you even know where the music department is?" Matthew asked, a bit of a déjà vu moment, nonetheless. He realized they had already rushed down this hallway once before, as the mural of the mascot: a bald eagle. Their footsteps echo around them like raindrops in the grand hallway; and what a grand hall it was. The hallways themselves were quite spacious – the two believed their entire hometown could fit the width – with white and black marble tiled floors recently styled to mimic the late baroque period. The walls were colored a shade light blue to match the sky that peeked in through the enormous windows. Between the white classroom doorways were rows of tall, refurbished lockers that were large enough to fit a dead body, if they so needed.
"I think it's down this way," Alfred explained and pointed over his shoulder. When compared to the rest of the school, this hallway was older and appeared neglected. The hallways seemed to date back to the origins of the building – a mix of white cinderblock and brick walls – and beige tiles piecing apart at their feet. The pictures of past students holding trophies were dated back to before the two brothers were even born. However, Alfred and Matthew were in such a hurry to notice such fine details.
"The hero has arrived!" Alfred shouted when barging into the band room, instrument case in hand and backpack strap threatening to plummet to the floor from its position lazily on his shoulder.
Matthew trailed behind, panting, and gave a weary smile. Unlike his oblivious brother, Matthew began to piece together the little details which the half-brothers had skipped prior. The band room dated back to before the country's origins, although that was a bit of an exaggeration it had a nostalgic feel. The stained off-white painted walls were plastered with obnoxious posters with cheesy music phrases only humorous to grade school students. Along the walls were rows of white caged lockers housing only a few black cases scattered around.
What really had Matthew convinced were the students. The sea of, maybe twenty five, students bore bored expressions or were occupied with their cellphone or work for another class. Not to mention a few of them were not even holding their instruments correctly, if at all! The Canadian raised brother did not expect World Academy, a top tier boarding school, to neglect their music program so neglected and filled with…delinquents.
"Oh look, a fat American," one of the students with poorly dyed green hair laughed, loud enough for the entire band, if it should even be considered one, to hear. Three students behind joined in almost immediately.
The conductor sighed. The average height male was quite stiff although he appeared younger than Roma. His face was a pasty white to contrast his chestnut colored eyes peeking over his spectacles, and below his lips was a small beauty mark. His outfit consisted of a lilac dress shirt, a mauve waistcoat, a pair of beige trousers and black dress shoes. The only untamed feature was his uncombed brown hair with a small curl protruding from the part. "While I usually do not tolerate lateness, I will have to forgive you for today, I suppose. Dr. Vargas informed me you were coming today. I am Professor Edelstein." His voice was thickly accented with a Germanic accent while he scolded the half-brothers. He tapped his baton on the stand, as if to gain the other students' attentions. "Now, class, please welcome Matthew and Alfred. They will be joining our band today."
Matthew did not smile this time, only a perplexed look covered his face; although, the same could not be said about his brother.
Alfred's face boasted a laminating smile and exclaimed "nice to meet y'all."
"And a country bumpkin too," the green haired student supposed. The silver haired student behind him chuckled.
"Mr. Kirkland, Mr. Beilschmidt," professor Edelstein lectured sternly. "Is there something you two would like to say to the whole class?"
"No," the albino student said and looked into his hands.
"Actually, I would," the green haired student explained standing up. He had an English accent which confused Alfred since he was deluded with the fact that all those who hailed from the United Kingdom were perfect gentlemen. His overall attitude matched his rebellious attire consisting of a frayed, vintage band shirt from the Rolling Stones, a pair of dark skinny jeans and black boots that stretched almost as far as his knee. His face had quite a few piercings, two on his tongue and one on his enormously bushy eyebrows which were black, despite his original hair color was blond. His eyes were a beautiful shade of green, however concealed by inches of eyeliner, or he calls it 'guyliner'.
Professor Edelstein rolled his chestnut brown eyes. "Mr. Kirkland," the professor said, appalled at the student's behavior. "I expected better from you."
"Pity," the delinquent said with a shake of his head. For someone with such insolence as he spoke, he certainly was intelligent, or at least charismatic to say the least. "You should not have high expectations." He picked at his chipping black nails and sat back into his folding chair, one leg resting over the other. "Now are you just going to take your seat or can we sit out the whole class watching your face, because trust me, I'd prefer the former."
Now it was Alfred's turn to look appalled, his fingers clenched into a tight fist which turned his knuckles white. Yet before he could do anything, the relieving sound of the bell rang throughout the room.
"It's about time," the British student explained exasperated and left without another word.
"Hey," Alfred said, exhausted from a day of locating his new classes. To the American, there were too many buildings and far too little time to rush between each, even if it was fifteen minutes. He collapsed on the stiff, cream colored mattress and let out a groan.
Their room was awfully large for a dorm room, consisting of both a main bedroom and a personal bathroom. The room had two full size beds one either side and two light wood desks matching the wooden floors. Surrounding them were large, full size windows plastered on the paste blue colored walls. However, the two barely got a decent view due to the fact that they were on the second floor of the building, a shame really. The bathroom was standard - a toilet, a tub/shower combo and a sink - all in a shade of white that could remind any one of a mental institution. Still, the academy was hardly a mental institution with all of its modern advancements.
"Had a rough day?" Matthew asked and folded another red sweatshirt from his suitcase into his drawers. From the spectacle in the morning with the British punk, Matthew figured Alfred's day was not as pleasant as the two had initially hoped.
"To be honest: no. It's just this school is so big."
Matthew picked up another shirt from his suitcase - this one being a white button down shirt - and neatly folded it amongst his others. He nodded absentmindedly, not all too concerned with how Alfred's day went.
"How was your day? I haven't seen you since lunch."
"Good, I suppose," Matthew began. His first day was mostly uneventful, he sat at the only empty seat and was practically ignored in the large lecture halls, but he was not going to complain about that. "Did you make any friends?"
"There was this one kid. He's also in band. I forgot his name, Kiwi or something, and he's Japanese. Isn't that cool?"
Matthew nodded absentmindedly once more and closed the drawer of clothes. His mind was far more preoccupied with another thought. "Did you…notice something?"
"Notice what?" Alfred asked and raised his golden eyebrow. "About Kiwi…?" He thought Kiwi was normal, unless his brother knew something he did not. Maybe he was an alien, or a superhero or-
"Band class," his half-brother said bluntly with a glare and interrupted his thoughts. "It wasn't…"
"What I expected." Alfred finished for his brother and exhaled loudly.
"To say the least," Matthew mumbled and collapsed on his bed.
"What do you mean?" Alfred asked. He grabbed his favorite Captain America comic book, the one where he slaps Hitler, from his suitcase and began to sift through it.
"Surely you were not too dense to notice that the building was far older than the rest, or at least less taken care of."
"So…?" Alfred asked with a pout and crossed his arms over his chest. "Maybe it is not…up to par, but that doesn't make it bad, right?"
"I suppose," Matthew drawled out, allowing the word to linger in the tense air. Of course Alfred would be the optimist…
Matthew's eyes gazed at the ceiling through his foggy glasses. He exhaled and asked "is your whole suitcase just packed with comics?"
"No. There's, like, three shirts."
Matthew threw his pillow at Alfred, catching him off guard since his sapphire eyes were more preoccupied with reading his comic. "Hey, dude. That was totally uncalled for."
Matthew giggled.
"Can't I just buy shirts here anyways?" he asked and placed the mint condition comic on his nightstand. "There are a thousand stores, on this street alone."
"Whatever," Matthew said and rolled over onto his stomach. "Good night!"
"Goodnight bro," Alfred said and turned off the nightstand lamp; his dreams swirled with thoughts about the boy with green hair.
TBC?
Author's Notes: First chapter complete! Yea!
I really like this new writing style, as hard as it is to write, it is quite sophisticated.
Hehe quite xP
Oi, what did I do? I do not have much to say except that I hope you enjoyed it.
Awww poor Alfred. Arthur's such a bitch! But I love punk!Arthur!
Don't worry, it will get better ;)
And where is Francis, you may ask...well that's for next chapter :)
Please review! I really love reviews!
/Falls into dispair because I want to go to World Academy/
Until next time, dearies.