Note: This is a long one-shot that I posted/will post in instalments. Also, possibly typos that escaped my dyslexic mind.
Warnings: Yaoi, Shounen-ai, Alternate Universe, High School, Normal Humans Not Nations, Angst, Drama, Sex, Rape/Non-Con/Dub-Con Elements, Ideologically Sensitive, Genderbent!Canada, Not USUK-friendly, FrUK, AmCan, USUK (One-Sided & Dysfunctional)
Disclaimer: Please take time to read the (lengthy) standard disclaimer in my profile page. It's for all my Hetalia stories, so once you've read it you'll never have to read again, yay! Cheers!
Story #108:
"Finding My Way Home"
"Please... Alfred..."
"Don't make me repeat myself, Artie."
Arthur cringed. He hated that nickname. But more than the nickname, right now, he hated his life.
His husband had come home from another party with his friends, indecently drunk. Everyone knew that their marriage was never one destined to be sunshine and roses. It was no secret that Alfred F. Jones had always wanted to marry someone else; his high school sweetheart, beautiful and gentle-souled Madelyn Williams; not prim and proper, stiff-upper-lipped Arthur Kirkland.
But both he and Alfred were in no position to make choices to do with their future. Or that's what they've been led to believe. Their parents had died when they were very young and they had fallen under the care of an aunt and uncle; distant ones. It didn't matter if Alfred didn't love Arthur. It didn't matter that they were distant cousins either. There were far greater reasons for marriage, like if it happened to be the most convenient means to a convenient end. Money, power, and influence were the only things that mattered. To their aunt and uncle, teenagers were reckless, naïve, and stupid troublesome things; and the same can be said for the things they wanted.
While Arthur has never had any romantic relationships or interests prior to his marriage, he did hold feelings for Alfred which he thought was more than just sympathy, at first. It was prompted and propagated by the conditions imposed on them by their guardians. They were required to spend as much time together as often as possible during their engagement. Ironically, during their would-be dates, the only subject they could ever bond over was Alfred's true love, Madelyn Williams, whom Arthur happened to be best friends with. He knew Maddie well and whenever he talked about her, Alfred's usually bored expression would instantly reverse. He would actually look- happy.
However, these enamoured feelings he thought he had for Alfred faded soon after they were wed, when he woke up to reality. He was resigned to the fact that the "husband" he was forced to have didn't like him at all and never will, not even as a companion. The set-up left him ailing for his freedom as much as Alfred longed to be with Maddie. For both of them, their current arrangement was a curse; a long and slow death via a lifetime of regret and misery. One they could not run from even after nearly one year of marriage and discontentment. They were still minors and helpless to go against their guardians' wishes.
Arthur's depression worsened with time and he would occasionally find himself obsessing over suicide. But Alfred wasn't faring any better. In fact, it was evident that Alfred was hard-pressed to cope even half as well. Where Arthur found writing and painting no less than life-saving outlets for those days when he was tempted to do nothing else but plot out his own perfect death, Alfred only ever seemed to find solace in alcohol, nightly parties, binge eating, and promiscuous flings.
To understate the obvious: Alfred grew embittered towards Arthur. He blamed Arthur for not resisting their arrangement even the slightest. He spited Arthur and Arthur's initial infatuation with him which he was convinced was the nail that sealed both their coffins. He believed that if only they both spoke up against the arrangement then, their guardians might have been swayed to reconsider. He was possessed by the idea that Arthur deliberately separated him from Maddie. The prospect of all that could have been consumed him and aggressively ate away at his soul. If only Arthur hadn't been so selfish, maybe his life wouldn't be so fucked up today. If only…
Indeed, regret was a merciless malaise.
Most days, Alfred would either not be at home at all or would ignore Arthur altogether whenever he was; which were days Arthur liked better than the rest. The rest wherein he would wake up bruised and battered, and consequently self-destructive.
Yet those were still preferable to days like these. Days when Alfred came home drunk and instead of ignoring or hitting him and being done with it, he was made to play this game…
A game called: "My name is Maddie Williams".
No matter how much Arthur deplored this ritual the first times he was subjected to it, his feelings for Alfred always won in the end. Such was no longer the case now. Arthur had been disenchanted from his misguided feelings long ago and would choose to play along out for a totally different emotion; one that was proving to be just as fatal as naïve infatuation: pity.
When he got tired of being the submissive suicidal spouse, he began to empathize with Alfred, genuinely feeling sorry for him. He had always thought that he was the one on the verge of breaking, the first one who would leap off that proverbial cliff. But he realized that if anyone was standing too far out on that ledge about to lose his footing, it was Alfred.
Alfred Jones truly loved Maddie Williams. And he, Arthur Kirkland, tore them apart. He deserved this.
Arthur squirmed uncomfortably as the flimsy fabric chafed the sensitive skin around his groin. The lacy see-through flowing top that hung high above his belly button matched the lacy see-through panties, and they were incredibly uncomfortable. Something to be expected with clothes that weren't meant for you. The final article he was required to wear with the lingerie were the eyeglasses. A pair perfectly identical to the ones Maddie wore, from the frame down to the prescribed lens refraction.
Arthur squinted through the spectacles, somehow grateful that he couldn't clearly make out his reflection on the full-length mirror in their bathroom wall. He didn't need to confirm what he already knew: that he looked hideous and disgusting. He was never that comfortable with the way he looked to begin with. Cross-dressing to pass off as a parody of a beautiful woman like Madelyn Williams was the worst degradation his already crippled ego could suffer from. He wanted to indulge in self-pity and crying like he used before. But that would rob him of what little dignity left that he worked hard to preserve for nights such as these. So he heaved and took deep steady breaths instead to keep the fragile parts of him together. Besides, Alfred hated it when he cried and it only added injury to insult, so to speak. Arthur was still a student of seventeen and he didn't need any more fresh bruises to show off at the university when the ones he got last week hadn't even completely vanished yet. He was already the headlines of gossip frequent enough as it is.
His thoughts scatter as hollering from outside reminds him that Alfred Jones didn't take kindly to waiting. With one last rake through his rebellious hair in an attempt to tame it, he sighed tossed the hairbrush aside. He had soft blond hair like Maddie's but his wavy, unruly mane could never be inveigled to go along and pretend it was straight and groomed like Maddie's. Shaky fingers fumbled with the doorknob a few more heart-stopping seconds before it finally turned and allowed him to step out into their bedroom.
Alfred was propped on their king-sized bed looking moodier and more unkempt than usual; bored eyes lock onto him as he approached. Arthur knew too well by now that a bored Alfred was an uncompromising one.
Alfred was straighter than a ironing board and occasionally passive-aggressively homophobic so Arthur knew that Alfred was not making him dress up as Maddie to satisfy some perverse kink. He was emotionally ill and being with Madelyn Williams was the only cure; even if all he had was make-believe. Truth be told, Arthur wouldn't have minded kinky dress-up games if he didn't have to pretend to be someone he was not. Of course, it would be even nicer if he were actually in love with the man he was doing it for and vice-versa. Being in love made everything in the world seem right. But this? Everything about it was just so wrong.
Arthur stood tensely by the foot of the bed for his drunken husband to scrutinize, wobbling on heels two sizes too small and doing his best not to flinch as his toes were slowly crushed alive. This was the closest to sexual intimacy they'd ever get. In the eleven months they'd been married, they never had sex, didn't kiss, touch or interact the way normal couples did; not even casual conversation passed between them. Their marriage was only for show, after all. They both knew this, and neither of them expected anything else. At first glance, it appeared that Arthur was on the losing end of their arrangement, but he really didn't care anymore. He had no objections with his husband doing whatever he desired, just as long he was left to do his own thing, which was basically completing his studies in peace.
Unfortunately, this indifferent yet "civil" set-up all changed when Alfred got into the habit of drinking. He came home one day in a very bad mood and got violent with Arthur for the very first time. The drunken beatings got more often after that, but thankfully lessened when Alfred started sleeping around. He knew he shouldn't have kept mum about everything going on in their marriage, that he should at least seek help, but his guilt compelled him to bear it all. He didn't understand why his life had gotten so screwed up but he did know one thing for certain: He's never fallen in love with anyone the way Alfred had always been with Maddie. The feeling of being heartbroken -even if their reasons for being so were slightly different- was something he could relate to well enough. He didn't lose anything more than a freedom he never had anyway when he married Alfred; whereas Alfred lost everything, and with the way things were going? It looked like Alfred stood to lose even more.
"What's your name." The American boy's tone was low and flat.
"My name… is Madelyn Williams," Arthur replied as meekly as he could.
"Who am I?"
"M-my true love, Alfred Jones…"
Alfred looked pained and conflicted, but only for a split-second.
"Touch yourself, for me."
Arthur knew too well by now, that disobedience would get him nowhere pretty. He was tired and he wanted this to be over quick. Alfred was usually satisfied and would fall asleep as soon as he got off. So he did as he was told and moved to stroke himself, trying his best to act the part even if he felt sick to the core.
After watching him for a full minute, Alfred motions him closer and impatiently lodges his bare foot in between Arthur's thighs and roughly presses into his groin.
"Say my name as you make yourself come."
Madelyn Williams was very shy and soft-spoken, the epitome of elegance and sophistication; and that's how Arthur was expected to act during these depraved role-playing sessions. It wasn't easy when the frilly laces of the tight fabric were like tiny razors against his skin, and the more Alfred rubbed his foot against his sensitive parts, the more unbearable the pain got. Still. It was a really bad idea to upset Alfred when he was drunk. He squeezed his eyes tight and again, did his best to obey.
"Al- Alfre-unf!"
Arthur's forehead smashes into the solid edge of the bedframe when his body jerks forward, completely unprepared for the sudden kick to his stomach.
"Forget it! Fuck this!" Alfred spat, getting up from the bed and standing before the body curled up on the carpet.
Arthur groaned, trying to blink away the burning holes of blinding light in his vision; panic setting in fast. He braced himself, knowing he was going to get hit some more. Despite all the overwhelming shame and pain he was already feeling, it still wasn't debilitating enough to numb his ears from Alfred's scathing words.
"You're not Maddie and you never will be, you ugly freak! Get the hell out of my sight!"
Arthur didn't need to be told twice. The stinging weight settling in his chest is what gave him the surge of adrenaline he needed. In an instant, he was gone from their bedroom -only he didn't run to his study like he usually would- he grabbed his coat and hastily pulled on his boots before running out into the street. He could hear Alfred yelling after him, asking him where the hell he was going and it only made him run faster.
To be continued...
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I lost track of which reviews are new and which aren' . Anyway, for those who regularly read my stuff (if there are any, haha), thank you! An extra sugary sweet thank you with heaps of whipped cream and fresh strawberries on top if you faved, followed, or reviewed.
(11/18/2012 - 06/28/2017)
