A/N: Hey there! This is my second story on Fanfiction. I welcome all advice and constructive critisim! This story shouldn't be too long.
I'm British (English, really...) and I've tried doing my research. Correct me on my mistakes, please! This is un-beta'd too and the tool I have typed this on doesn't have spell check.
I sighed to myself and groaned whilst stretching my tired, aching legs; granted, I hadn't any reason for my fatigue, I'd been spending my weekend rotting away in my bedroom with my beloved comic books and my treasured video games. It wasn't as if I had anything better to do and Captain America craved my attention - I never was one to disappoint either. I glanced quickly at the plastic watch strapped to my wrist. It was cheap, old and worn, damaged by over two years worth of falls, tumbles and scrapes. It certainly was sturdy, but the numbers were often faded and hard to read. It needed to be replaced.
I could barely make out a four and two blinking threes. The watch was ready to die on me, I was sure. It's poor condition was pushed to the back of my mind as brother, Matthew, opened the door of my room and leant against the slightly chipped wooden frame.
"Hey," he smiled.
"Hey Matt," I muttered whilst fishing through a pile of comic book. I had towered them against the side of my bed and they were in danger of falling.
"Have you got any plans for rest of the day?" He asked, flicking a strand of overly curly hair to one side.
"Yup, as a matter of fact, I do. Captain America, Superman and Iron Man." I smirked to myself and attempted to pry an issue from my pile.
"Well, I'd advise you to put those plans on hold. We've got a new neighbour, you see, and he's quite the character."
My stack of comic books collapsed without warning. A few of the older magazines looked ready to lose their pages as they spread across my bedroom floor.
"Seriously, Matt," I whined. "So there's a new guy on the block. Nothing special, it happens every now and then, I guess."
"I just thought you'd be interested," he mused. "After all, he's foreign and our age. Quite cool, really."
I gave up on trying to salvage my wrecked tower and Matthew continued.
"He's a little odd but he definitely makes up for it - he has one hell of an accent and he'll take you by suprise. You really wouldn't expect him to be so... well, I'm not sure how to put it, but you should go and meet him."
It really wasn't all that rare for a foreigner to take up residence in our little town. We lived in a popular state, Arizona, the Grand Canyon State, in Winkelman. Winkelman really was so small though. Well, at least for a lover of big estates, cities and modernisation.
"Where's he from?" With that, Matthew knew he had caught my interest.
"He's British. English, really, but what does it matter? He's from London, I think, but he has family all over the UK - Scotland, Northern Ireland, Wales, Newcastle, Liverpool, Plymouth... he seems to be a cool guy. Anyway, I suggest you go and meet him. He had a run in with the Bad Touch Trio earlier on. I can't see him lasting more than a fortnight. Francis has got his eye on him. Poor guy." My brother chuckled.
"Well, you're Canadian and you've managed just fine." I retorted.
"Of course, but I've got my heroic little brother by my side, haven't eye? This guy seems like a bit of a loner. Catch you later, Al."
I wasn't too interested in meeting this British guy, but I felt compelled. Plus, Francis had taken a liking to him. Though, that really meant nothing. Francis' type was the living and breathing type. He couldn't be too bad though.
I really had no idea of what to say to him - I hardly knew anything about him and I was confused - I felt allured by a boy I hadn't met and even though I couldn't think of any reason to introduce myself to him, I couldn't stop myself. I felt out of place as I shuffled my way up to the front door of his apparent home. I knocked once, twice, hard and heavy each time.
The house was nicely sized. Four bedrooms, I guessed. The kid must have a large family, I thought. A boy with sandy blond hair answered the door and knocked my train of thought.
"Hey!" I chirped. "I heard you're new in town, I think you've met my brother? The name's Al!" I stuck out my hand. He shook it lightly.
"Hello," he murmured. Matthew was right. His accent was distinct. "My name's Arthur."
"Haha, nice to meet'cha!" I tried to keep my voice cheery. I plastered a smile across my face to hide my uncertainty. Sure, I loved meeting new people, I just wasn't sure why I dropped my busy comic-filled schedule for a guy I'd hadn't met.
He nodded. I examined him, taking in his appearance. He had monstrous eyebrows! They were huge! Not to mention they didn't match his hair; they were dark and thick, not fair and thin. They sat above the greenest eyes I had ever seen. He must be wearing contacts, I thought to myself. They were amazing! Deep and sharp and a whole mixture of shades. He had extremely pale skin and he was slight in figure, very short too.
He blinked.
"Well, if that's all, I best be going." He went to shut the door.
"Wait!" I wailed. "Matthew said you've met the Bad Touch Trio!"
"Matthew?" He questioned, swinging the door open again. "Oh, yes. Come to think of it, you do look quite alike, and if by 'the Bad Touch Trio' you're refering to a French frog, a self-proclaimed Prussian albino and an idiotic Spaniard, then yes, I've met them."
"What d'ya think of them?" I asked.
"It's what do you think of them? Not what d'ya think of them?" He spat and I winced. He went from polite and formal to harsh and rude. "To be perfectly honest, I don't dislike them. I hate them. Already. I've lived here for less than a week and I want to go home."
My face twisted into an apologetic look.
"Sorry, man. I know moving's tough. I mean, I used to live in good ol' New York City. Winkelman is a whole lot different to the busy life over there, but you get used to it, y'know what I mean?" I shrugged.
"Moving from one country to another is completely different." He argued. "I don't miss London. I miss England. The whole damn country."
"You were real polite earlier. What happened?" I mused aloud.
"I started talking to you." He retorted and smirked.
"Geez, you're not much conversation yourself, eyebrows." I sniggered. His cheeks tinted a few different shades of red.
"Stupid American," he barked. "You're not much of the looker youself."
"Honestly, I wouldn't expect you to find me attractive, but if it's guys you're into then I suppose I could make an effort, you know, clean myself up a bit!" I laughed as his grin faded and his face darkened.
"Bloody wanker..." Arthur flushed.
I really didn't know what to say. I didn't know what a bloody wanker was.
"I'm not bleeding." I stated, dumbly.
He stared at me before his laughter echoed. He actually had quite a nice laugh. A clear, genuine laugh.
"Well, at least now I know how to insult you Americans discreetly," he smirked. "You won't know I'm mocking you."
My face soured and I shrugged for the second time.
"Coward," I sang. "If you're going to insult somebody you should do it to their face."
"Fine then," he pouted and I couldn't help but smile. He looked like a lot like a scolded child. "You're an idiot."
"Hahaha!" I chuckled and winked at him. His face exploded with colour once again and I beamed. "I know. I mean, I'm reminded every day!"
He sighed. "Insufferable git. Have you no pride?"
"What's a git?" I wondered, tapping a finger to my chin. "I got pride," I deliberately used poor wording and grammar, just to get on his nerves. Isn't he special? "I just don't care for intelligence. It's overrated."
"You're quite the joker, aren't you?" Arthur smiled and for some reason, I had butterflies in my stomach.
"Naturally!" I boasted and, again, he laughed.
"Well, I'm sure I'll see you around, Alfred. After all, Winkelman isn't very big now, is it?" He spoke softly.
"How old are you?"
"Fifteen." He replied and I cursed under my breath.
"Awww, you're older than me!" I frowned.
"I act it too." He noted.
"Whatever, Artie." I ignored his comment and shortened his name.
We spent quite a lot of time in a playful banter with one another and I only left because Matthew had called my cell phone. He told me that dinner was ready and, of course, I bid farewell to Arthur in a rather hasty fashion. He didn't seem too impressed by my exit but it really didn't matter. I felt better knowing I had cheered a guy up; after all, he had a reason to be bitter after meeting the Bad Touch Trio.
I had a good feeling about Arthur and I didn't know why. He was different. Unique, unlike so many of Winkelman's other residents, and I liked him.
I had no idea how much he'd change me, for better or for worse.