Hey guys! Back with another story! This is going to be another, hopefully creepy one. And this time, it centers around Arthur. =P
All Right. Enough chatter. On with the story!
Disclaimer-As always, I do not own Hetalia. Sigh...
Arthur's eyes lit up at the stack of papers before him. Finally, his manuscript was finished. Now that bloody frenchman would lay off of him. With a small grin still plastered to his pale features, the blonde set the papers down on his desk. He would hand it in tomorrow. Right now, the exhausted writer needed his rest.
He yawned as he stood from his chair. This would be his best book yet. He could feel it. Everyone loved a good horror story. And one with a crazed murderer was even better. Old frog face wouldn't have anything left to criticize him about after this.
As he strode through the halls of his expansive house, he could feel the anticipation rising in his throat, until he was sure he would shout of his excitement. Not that anyone would be able to hear it. The man lived alone. That was the only downside to his success. Arthur had never been able to find someone truly devoted to him. To his money, of course. That part was easy.
He quickly shook the thought from his mind. Tonight was to be full of bliss. He had worked tirelessly for months on that book. Now it was finished, and he had nothing to worry about.
Finally arriving in his bedroom, the man shed his white, button down shirt and jeans for a plain white t-shirt, and boxers. Pulling back the blankets, he slid in.
Sleep was not hard to find for once, as he closed his eyes, and almost immediately drifted off.
...
The next day arrived, and like clockwork, Arthur awoke to the chiming of his cell phone. Sitting up in bed, his eyes shot to the time listed on the phone. "Bloody hell..." He growled. It was only nine o'clock. He had only been able to sleep for five hours. What a great night's sleep...
He flipped the phone open to mumble a "Hello," striving to be as pleasant as possible.
"Hellooo, Arthur! How are you this morning?"
The Englishman rolled his eyes. "Fine. What is it, Francis?"
"Well, you certainly aren't very chatty." Complained the man on the other line. "Anyway, I was calling about your book..."
"Its finished."
"Oh! It is? Wonderful! Can you bring it to my office today?"
"That was the plan." Arthur spat. Somehow, everytime he had to speak with the editor, he felt his patience wither away quite rapidly.
Fortunately, it seemed Francis was too absorbed in his own work to notice. "Sounds fantastic. Why don't you bring it down around...shall we say, three o'clock?"
"Fine. Sounds great."
There was a pause, and Arthur wondered if maybe Francis had already hung up. However, he quickly heard the man's overly obnoxious voice flood through the speaker again. "Soooo, how about that invitation to go get coffee sometime?"
Oh God...not that again. "No. Now if you'll excuse me, I must be getting off." And with that, Arthur shut his phone. Why didn't Francis take the hint he didn't want to be friends with him? This was strictly business as far as he was concerned. Arthur wasn't looking to make friends. He had enough.
Well, if you could count Alfred who was practically his brother. And maybe Ludwig. But he was more of a mutual friend of Alfred's. All right...so he didn't have many friends. But who cared? He was about to break out into the industry. All he would need would unfold before him like the red carpet he knew one day he would tread when they made his book into a five star film...
Arthur stretched his arms out before him as he slowly rose from the bed. No point in trying to go back to sleep now. He needed to get ready to meet with crazy, overly friendly Francis.
He quickly hopped in the shower, washing his unruly hair. Once he had finished, he decided to read through his manuscript one more time. The Englishman meandered down to his office. Seating himself in front of his desk, he scanned the many pages. He just had to make sure it was perfect.
His story was about a man who, one day begins finding a statue of a clown on his door step everyday. No matter how many times he disposes of it, another shows up in its place. At first, the man thinks its just a prank played by a few mean-mannered kids. However, he finds this isn't the truth, and needless to say, is brutally murdered.
He grinned as goosebumps formed on his arms. This story frightened even him. And he had written it. Francis had nothing on him now. There was no way he wouldn't enjoy this story.
Finally, it was time to head to his office. He watched intently as Francis's crystal eyes scanned the papers before him.
"This is very well-written. A little creepy for my liking, but I think the readers will enjoy it." He smiled up at Arthur's expectant face.
"So does that mean its going to be published?" His confidence had all but dissipated at Francis's silence.
Francis nodded. "Of course. We'll have it out as soon as possible." An awkward quiet filled the room, until the Frenchman spoke up once more. "So, are you sure you don't want to go out for drinks?"
"Yes! Will you quit asking?" When Francis frowned at his outburst, Arthur continued. "Look, Francis, I'm a very busy man. I don't have time to go out." That was a lie, but he didn't want to offend the blonde before him any further.
Francis seemed to recover rather quickly as he nodded. "Of course. I completely understand. Anyway, do find time to enjoy your break, all right? I feel as though all you ever do as work. Go out, and find a pretty young woman to spend some time with." He winked as Arthur rose from his seat.
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I had best be going. I've got a milliion things to do today." Another lie. Oh well. He did want to enjoy his time away from writing, and to do so, he would spend it in seclusion.
On his way home, he received a call from Alfred. "Hello." He greeted, one arm holding his phone, and the other grasping the steering wheel rather firmly.
"Hey, dude! 'Sup? How did it go with the editor?"
Oh, so he had remembered. That was shocking. Arthur's grin widened at this. "Very well. He says he's going to publish it."
"That's awesome, man! Hey! Wanna go celebrate? We can go to that new bar downtown."
Arthur pondered that for a moment. He really wanted to go back to his house to relax. But, it might be a nice alternative to actually get out for once...
No. He needed to have some time to himself. "Um...can we perhaps take a rain check on that? I'm rather tired, you see, and-"
"Cool! I'll come pick you up in an hour!" And with that, the American hung up.
Blast! Had he not been listening to a word he had said? Arthur sighed as the tension in his shoulders slowly released. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. He hadn't seen his friend in a couple of weeks due to his obsessive writing. This was most likely just what he needed. A time to get out, and loosen up.
When he arrived home, he swapped his suit out for his favorite pair of dark wash jeans, and his green polo. He had just enough time to comb through his hair before he heard a honk sound outside.
"Damn, already?" He asked himself. He fluttered to the window to indeed find Alfred's red car awaiting him.
Darting outside, he hopped into the passenger seat. His gaze drifted to the blonde behind the wheel. Alfred's hair was combed neatly, and he wore a blue button shirt paired with khakis. Definitely his "chick picking up" outfit as he so crudely called it. So that was what this get together was about...
"Hey, dude! Ya ready? I feel like I haven't seen you in years!"
"Sure. So where are we headed to again?" Arthur asked, trying his best to keep the irritation out of his voice.
"That place 'Max's Pub'. Figured it'd be a good place to grab a few drinks."
Arthur nodded. The rest of the car ride consisted of Alfred asking about Arthur's latest novel, and the Englishman did his best to reply without sounding too bored.
When they arrived, Arthur realized right off the bat why this had been Alfred's choice. All of the waitresses inside were dressed in scantily clad clothes. Great...
They took a seat at one of the tables in the back of the dimly lit bar, and after a few minutes, a blonde with boobs that were clearly fake marched up to them with an overly cheerful smile. "Hello, boys." She greeted in a flirty voice. "What can I get you to drink?"
"Budweiser for me." Alfred answered.
The woman nodded, jotting it down in her book. Her dark eyes then focused on Arthur.
"What do you have here?" He asked.
Her eyes lit up at what he was sure was his accent. Damn American women...
"Budweiser, Heineken, Shocktop, Sam Adams and Blue Moon are our drafts. The bottles are a little more expensive, though."
"I'll take a Heineken." Bollocks. He hated all of those. But he was in no mood to listen to this girl's high-pitched voice any longer.
When she strolled away from the table, Arthur narrowed his eyes dangerously at Alfred.
"What?" He asked, obviously not seeing the reasoning behind Arthur's annoyance.
"I can tell why you wanted to come here now."
"What are you talking about, man? I like it here because its a cool place to go."
"Oh, bollocks. We both know that isn't the truth." Arthur said, propping his head on his hands. "You wanted to come here for the women."
Alfred opened his mouth to argue, but quickly shut it. "Yeah...I guess you're right. But I did want to get you out of the house. Look, you need to try and go on a date once in a while. You can't just stay holed up in your house all the time."
He did have a point. Blast him for making a good argument for once.
The waitress returned with their beers, shooting a wink in Arthur's direction before walking away once more.
Alfred wasted no time in slamming back his tall Budweiser. Arthur followed suit. Even if he hated to admit it, Alfred was right. This was a nice change to actually be out of his home. But he wouldn't go so far to hook up with one of these trashy looking women, though. That was out of the question. And he wouldn't allow Alfred to either.
The night went on as Arthur attempted to keep Alfred from grinding on a brunette dancing to the live music a few times in his drunken stupor. Eventually, he decided it was time to head home.
"Alfred, give me your keys. I'm driving."
Alfred's dilated pupils rested on the blonde before him. "No...I can drive! I'm only a little tipsy..." He chuckled to himself as he played with the buttons on his shirt.
Arthur rolled his eyes, digging into one of the drunken man's pockets. Luckily, it was where he had stashed the keys to his mustang.
He extracted them before the blonde even had the time to notice, and drug him outside.
"All right, Alfred, I'm going to set you in the back seat. Lie down, all right?" He handed him one of the bags found in the messy vehicle. Alfred had already visited the restroom inside at least three times to puke up all the alcohol he had consumed.
Once he had the younger man laying flat in the back, he stepped into the driver's seat.
The ride home consisted of listening to the gruesome sounds of Alfred relieving what was left of the contents of his stomach into the plastic bag.
When they finally arrived back at his house, Arthur began to drag Alfred up the walk to his house. However, something caught his eye on his porch. As he drew closer, he noticed it was the statue of a clown.
"Bloody hell..."
"That's some scary shit, man...why is that outside your door?"
"I have no idea. Probably that wanker Francis. He must be more excited about my book than I thought. SWell, whatever...let's get you inside to lay down."
He grabbed the statue, and brought it inside with him.
The night went on without any other excitement, other than Alfred's hideous retching.
If only they knew what would greet them the following morning...
Whoo! Seriously...I would've chucked that clown statue across the country...creepy ass things...
Hope you all enjoyed! Please leave me your feedback! You know I love it! =P