AN: So Hetalia has invaded my brain for a while now and it looks like it has made a permanent residency... This seems to be the main story line on my brain... Hopefully this will go somewhere... I have an actual plot for this *gasp* The thing is, my lack of focus and my horrible writing will keep this from getting done...
OH! And I totes has my own computer now so... Yay! Enjoy! I will hopefully have the next chapter up real soon seeing as I already have it hand written! I just need my friend to smack me a couple of times and fix my oh-so-lovely errors. Oh and of course imma be a senior starting in september… But I will be trying to update this cuz i actually have a plot!… A sucky one, but a plot none the less. Enjoy!
Alfred groaned and swore under his breath. His parents were home. His parents- how he despised them. It seemed as though no matter what he did, or how hard he tried, his parents were always disappointed in him.
"Alfred!" his mother yelled up the stairs; he flinched at the anger in her voice.
Damn. His report card must have arrived.
"Alfred! Get your ass down here right now!" she yelled again.
Al groaned quietly; she had to be really pissed. And here he had thought he had done pretty well in his classes.
"Coming Mom!" he yelled back, grabbing his jacket from where he had left it on his desk chair.
After sliding down the banister he spun into the kitchen, like they do in that awesome commercial on t.v., with a carefree smile on his face.
"Yeah, Mom, what's up?" he asked.
"What is this?" she hissed, shoving a piece of paper in his face.
Alfred gulped and stared at the paper being dangled in front of his face like a worm on a hook in front of a fish.
"Uh, my report card?" he replied hesitantly.
He gasped as his mother's palm came into contact with his face.
"You fucking idiot! Don't be fresh with me! How the fucking hell do you get a B in history!"
Alfred held back a groan. Shit, he had forgotten about that.
"I-" he tried to speak but was interrupted by his enraged mother.
"Did I raise you to be a failure!" she shrieked. "How did you end up being such a fucking retard! You don't deserve to live in this house!"
Alfred flinched, but looked up and glared at his mother. "Then maybe I should just go," he hissed.
"Fine then." His mother smirked at him. "Get out! Leave! I could never consider such an idiot like you my son anyways!"
Alfred bit his lip and tried to hold back a sob at his mother's harsh words. He glanced over at his father, who had been watching the entire conversation from where he sitting at the kitchen table. They locked eyes for a second, before his father looked away, shaking his head.
It was too much for Alfred. He spun around and bolted out of the house, tears dripping down his face as he ran. By the time he had stopped running, he found himself at the local bus station.
He collapsed on the ground, leaning up against the side of the building. His mind was racing, running through all of the different possibilities of what could happen to him.
He wouldn't go back, that was for sure. But if he was going to go anywhere else he needed money.
He emptied out his pockets, and made an inventory of everything he had on him. He had his cell phone, his wallet with about 40 dollars and a few old ticket stubs in it, several candy bars (and candy bar wrappers), an old McDonalds receipt, and his pocket knife.
With a sigh he pulled out the trash from the useful things. Everything but his phone and the useless crap went back in his pockets.
If he really was going to leave, and not come back, he was going to have to cut off all ties with everyone... But that didn't mean he couldn't say good-bye, right?
Opening his phone he sent a quick message to his on-again, off-again best friend.
Artie, your like the bestest bff a guy could ever have and im totes gonna miss u dude! Telll everyone sorry 4 me k? I just have to go. Tell Mattie I'm sorry and that he's still my favorite cuz eva!
Luv, Alfred Fucking Hero Jones! 3
Hitting the send button, Alfred waited until his phone confirmed the message had been sent before he popped off the back and removed the battery, and tossed it in the trash along with the wrappers and old receipts.
He sat there against the wall for a good minute or two before he finally pocketed the useless phone and stood up. He brushed himself off and walked over to the entrance to the building, leaving the only place he had ever called home, never to return again.