I know, the best thing to do rn is start another fanfic -.-. After I get this up, I'll also update the pgau (me and moirail's pagan god au story) and I've already got the next chapter of hsne already done; it's just that I've had no time to upload it and between school and preparing for college visits and shit. That, and I want to get a bit ahead before uploading anything else...although I think I'm just throwing that out the window rn.
But yeah. The events of this story, while not 100% true, are based on 100% true premises (I ride a bus an hour to school and an hour back on most weekdays, and a lot of weird shenanigans happen if not to me than to others on the bus). At the end of each section I'll give you a bit of IRL insight just to...yeah okay.
Heeeeey I got a 36 on the ACT! It just goes to show you that I haven't been AFK for nothing :/
PS: Country Day School bc 1) I go to one and 2) that damned red-headed Montessori kid just needs to make an appearance here
Prologue: The Sacred Rules of the Plymouth-Albion Bus
"So this here is our ride." Gilbert smirked, saluting the old bus driver as he raced up the steps. "Since it's an hour to and from the Plymouth Country Day School and our neighborhood by big spankin' yellow bus, you're going to get very—and I mean very—acquainted with it."
Arthur cringed, nodding primly at the same bus driver (whose eyes gave off the impression he had seen 'the war' and escaped with only half his sanity) as he boarded. It was bad enough he'd been forced to transfer to a new school and leave all his old friends behind, but as an added detriment his parents had decided to have their next door neighbor (the one in his grade, sadly; Ludwig was but a mere and lowly freshman and had even less of an idea where the junior honors classes were then Gilbert) lead him around for his first day. He squeezed the strap on his backpack, silently cursing the fact that he was currently being lead around by the equivalent of a particularly useful rock with a big ego.
"We're bus number one because I'm too awesome to sit in anything else, and in the afternoon we're spot five in the circle. You'll have to remember that because I won't be there this afternoon."
Arthur sighed. Of course. "And may I be so bold as to inquire why?"
"Damn, someone took their snark pills this morning. Since it's the first day, the Bird Watching Club has their first meeting after school. I've gotta be there to haze the newbs." Gilbert shrugged, locating a seat. Arthur moved to sit down next to him, but Gilbert shook his head violently.
"Clearly, you don't know the unspoken rules of bus etiquette."
"Huh?"
"Rule number one: if there are enough seats, you never, ever double up with someone." Gilbert snapped his fingers and pointed Arthur to the empty seat across the aisle. "Don't do it if you can afford not to—which...isn't often, actually. But no one wants to be that sucker who has to bother their friend and sit with someone, so try and got on the bus fast and be merciless with the seats."
"...But these seats are literally made for two people." Arthur groaned, staring incredulously at the people who passed by him. "Why wouldn't they sit in seats specifically meant for two people?!"
"Privacy? Space? Leg room?" Gilbert shrugged, putting his hands behind his head and leaning against the window as he hoisted his legs onto the seat. The bus began moving with a jolt, causing his head to bump repeatedly against the glass. "I d-d-d-d-d-on't-t-t-t mak-k-k-ke the r-r-r-"
"You're going to lose brain cells like that." The British boy rolled his eyes. Gilbert sat up reluctantly, still sprawled out on the two-person seat.
"I don't make the rules, man, I just follow them. Speaking of which, I made a list for you."
Arthur wrinkled his nose as the German reached over and began rummaging through his backpack. After a decent amount of rustling and the chirping of what seemed to be a live bird (?!), the boy finally managed to pull out a crumpled, used piece of paper. Arthur grabbed it and looked it over.
"...This is a picture of your brother being murdered by an angry tomato."
"Genius, amirite?" Gilbert smirked. "The rules are in the corner of the page, though."
Arthur obediently squinted down, attempting to steady his hand and read the microscopic handwriting while the bus shook. At Gilbert's request, he rolled his eyes and read the paper out loud in his most monotone voice.
The Sacred Rules of the Plymouth-Albion Bus:
Rule 1: Thou shalt not share seats unless absolutely necessary. Thou shalt be merciless and bask in the tears of the seatless; however, thou shalt not force any others, even siblings, out of their rightfully won seats.
Rule 2: Thou shalt not sit in the front, for the front of the bus is the land of kindergarten to middle-school aged children and there is no salvation for your blackened soul should you choose to abandon the high schoolers in the back.
Subclause: If thou art loud and disruptive to those sleeping in the morning, thou may be banished to the front and forevermore live in the land of loud Minecraft and child limbs pressed into your face.
Rule 3: If thou does homework in the morning, thou must turn the light source away from other human beings and keep the setting low as possible without going blind.
Rule 4: Thou shalt not save seats for friends. If thou saveth seats for friends, both thou and thou friend may be banished to the front.
Rule 5: Thou is permitted to rest thine feet on the chair across the aisle, provided thou does not soil the other person's materials or body.
Rule 6: Thou should keep violence and vulgar speech to a minimum; however, if circumstances run afoul, thou must keep cursing, fighting, and profanity hidden as well as possible from the bus driver.
Subclause: The children pretend not to know the language of the adolescents, so if thou useth said language with them thou must, for pretense's sake, keep thou voice to a minimum.
Rule 7: Thou must sit at all times so that our relatively nice bus driver does not get fired.
Sub clause: Standing to throw away garbage or rebuke the red-headed kid that keeps coming to the back to bother us is permitted.
Rule 8: Thou must not upset the Asian bloc (the Asian international students that traditionally occupy seats 15—20), lest they react like last time and hold lengthy, confusing conversations in Chinese.
Rule 9: All complex kids are to be treated with the utmost disdain.
Disclaimer: Despite this, however, rule one still applies; we are not permitted to force them out of their rightfully won seats—
"There are so many things wrong with this, I don't know where to begin." Arthur abruptly crumpled the paper, snorting as Gilbert winced and whined ('you haven't even read the last rule yet!') "For one, 'thou?' 'Shalt?' I'm pretty sure Shakespeare is turning in his grave. If he were still alive he'd probably be writing an angrily worded sonnet towards aggressively yellow birds and aggresively yellow busses."
"Uh...I think I'm honored." Gilbert raised an eyebrow.
"Secondly," Arthur interjected, holding up a hand before the albino could spew more words. "I understand virtually none of these. 'The tears of the seatless?' 'Your blackened soul?' Just because you base your life around this pathetic excuse for transportation—"
"You wound me, Fair Lady Kirkland!" Gilbert gasped, narrowly ducking as Arthur chucked the paper at him. The German grabbed the paper in one hand and lobbed it back; the Englishman caught it with a scowl. "I know it may not seem like much, but trust me, the advice is sound—"
"And another thing! What the hell is a 'complex' kid?" Arthur slapped the paper, slumping backward.
"Trust me, you'll see this afternoon." Gilbert shrugged. "In all seriousness, though, those are all unspoken rules—you don't share seats unless you need to, the high schoolers sit in the back and stay quiet for most of the ride, the kids sit in the front and act really loud. And, just so ya know, that intermediate school kid who keeps coming to the back and waking people up in the mornings is real. He's a dick."
"What happened to rule number six?"
"Subclause." Gilbert stuck out his tongue. "Anyway, you've seen the Asian bloc." He tilted his head toward the chairs in front of him; a girl with her flower in her hair peeked over the chair and glared. The boy smiled sheepishly. "We try not to piss them off. They're pretty awesome and generally like any other student, but on the bus rides they spend all their time talking in Chinese and playing video games together. It's kind of weird." He shrugged. "But hey, as long as Kiku fixes my laptop when it blue screens in physics, I'm good."
"...I worry about this school sometimes." Arthur rubbed his own temples, checking his watch and letting his head slam against the window when he saw that only five minutes had passed. "Is the bus ride always this long?"
"Only when you're here, Britface." Gilbert laughed as the crumpled paper once again flew toward his face. "Otherwise, it's only an hour from Albion Street to Plymouth and vice versa."
IRL: Yes, I ride bus number one. Pretty cool, huh? Most of the Gilbert rules are very, very true, but unspoken/unwritten. It's just something that everyone knows. Rule Number 8 is sorta true—there is indeed an 'Asian bloc' of international students from China (no judgement, considering my mom runs the program so I'm technically one of them), but there is no rule about not bothering them (although there is a time we recorded a couple of people badmouthing us~huehuehue). Other than that, all the other rules apply. Oh, and it's only 45 minutes from my school to my bus stop on a good day. Close enough, though, right?
Other than that, all of the rest of the rules are true. (Yes, even number nine; you'll know what a complex kid is in chapter 1).
Feel free to drop a review. I've got the first chapter finished already (there'll be ten chapters, one for each rule, and an omake in between bc something happened the other day that I just gotta write about), so fingers crossed for a quick update (reviews would help!).