So, here I am, starting a new story again, while I have millions of on-going ones… I'm starting to think I'm just an idiot or something… But this little plot bunny wouldn't leave me alone, and was nibbling at my mind for the past few days XD And it's probably the only AU story I've started so far that has nothing 'magical' about it, unless you count Arthur being blind...Okay, I'll just say what's important here. This is USUK, so it's shounen-ai :) There will also be a Nyotalia character, a Fem!England who will be Arthur's sister in this ^_^ (I know that not many people like Nyotalia, so sorry…) As far as I know, she is the only Nyotalia character I'll include :)
Alfred shivered, tensed, back against the wall as he clutched the small object in his pocket. The night was silent except for his ragged, suspenseful breaths, visible against the cool air.
He was alone, as far as he could tell. Alfred hugged his chest, trying to hold onto some form of warmth. Hardly anyone would be out at this time, especially not with the current temperature. It was autumn, but it might as well have been the dead of winter.
He stiffened at the sound of a police siren, but he soon let out another breath he hadn't realised he was holding, comforting himself by saying it was probably because of a crime in some other part of the area. It was that kind of place; you couldn't go anywhere without seeing teenagers breaking windows and spreading graffiti, or watching someone being attacked and stripped of everything they owned. Alfred would have normally condemned that type of behaviour, but now…
There's no other way, Alfred told himself, fighting the growing sense of fear and guilt. If you don't get the money in two days, he'll kick you out and you'll be forced to live on the streets. There's no other way.
But thinking this did not mean he believed it. There were probably thousands of better ways to get money. But he was desperate, and he had no time. It would be easy. All he had to do was yell out a few empty threats at the next person who walked by and force them to hand over their wallet. Simple.
Except Alfred had been standing there for almost an hour now, and no one had passed him. It might as well have been a ghost town. He was completely alone.
He stuck his head out from his hiding place, an alleyway almost concealed by the shadows, giving the street a quick glance around. Nothing.
Alfred deflated. Had he just been standing there like an idiot for no reason? Seriously, if no one showed up in the next ten minutes, he was going home. There were so many other things he could be doing with his time, like arguing with his insane Russian landlord, or telling Yong Soo to give him his DVDs back, or playing video games, or feeding those rabbits the quiet Dutch guy down the hall owned, or sleeping, or—
Footsteps. Alfred's eyes widened. He went back, pressing into the wall. Those were definitely footsteps, slow and careful, walking down the pavement and unknowingly closer to Alfred.
He tensed. The knife in his pocket only had a small blade—its main purpose was to strike people with fear rather than actually hurt them—but it was still sharp, and Alfred couldn't swallow the sudden lump in his throat as he tightened his grip on the handle.
He had to do this now. Otherwise, he might as well start packing his things since there was no way his landlord would let him stay if he didn't have the proper money.
Alfred pulled his hood up, making sure the scarf wrapped around his mouth was secure. The hoodie was there to protect his identity, at least slightly, and the scarf to muffle his voice. There was no point in doing this if he was just going to get caught.
With one more insecure breath, Alfred stepped out into the open.
"H-hey!" he called, hating the way his voice shook. He couldn't hesitate with this.
The one in front of him paused in their path. It was a man, wearing a thick coat and holding some kind of instrument case in one hand. In the other, he grasped a white cane. Messy blond hair and a pair of slightly thick eyebrows almost seemed to frame the man's unseeing eyes.
Alfred felt his heart sink. Oh, God, he was about to mug a blind man.
"Who's there?" The other's clouded eyes narrowed in confusion, his posture stiffened.
Alfred shook his head. There was no point in giving up now. "G…" He paused, breathed in, willing himself not to trip over his own words. "Give me your wallet." Alfred held out his hand, though he knew there was no point since the man wouldn't be able to see this action.
The blood almost seemed to drain from the blind man's face. "You're joking," he said, taking a small step back as if wondering whether he should run.
Alfred marched forward and gripped the man's shoulder, pushing him against a wall. He tried to do it not too forcefully—the shorter man just seemed so frail—but still strong enough to get his point across, to scare him, even if it was only a little.
"Give me your wallet. Now," Alfred growled, having to push down the growing sense of regret at the sight of the man's shocked expression. "I-I have a knife," Alfred said, knowing the only other way he could show this was if he literally pressed it against the man's skin.
The blind man, who seemed to have previously been in a sort of daze, flinched at these words. The instrument case and the cane had long since fallen out of his hands.
"F-fine, you—..." He didn't finish the possible insult, searching his pockets with a trembling hand. His face may have looked calm, but he was obviously scared.
A black leather wallet was held up, and Alfred snatched it out of the man's hand. There. It was over now. He didn't have to see the blind man ever again; he could get on with his life...
At least, that was what he thought. It was then something caught the light—something gold glittering around the other's neck.
"And give me the necklace, too!" Alfred said without thinking. What was he doing? He had the man's money. That was all he needed. Leave! his mind screamed. You've done enough! Just leave him alone now!
He must have touched on something personal; the man glared suddenly. "You… Don't even think about touching this!" he spat, and he began struggling against Alfred's grip.
Alfred found himself fighting back, not even knowing why. He had the man's wallet, so why was he trying to get his necklace? Because it looked valuble?
He hadn't realised he was still holding the knife. He had completely forgotten about it in the moment. Before he even knew what was happening, his hand moved and the knife sliced into the blind man's abdomen.
Everything stopped, then the man gasped and Alfred could only stare as he fell to his knees. The knife was still in his hand, but now its blade was laced with scarlet.
Oh… Oh, hell. Oh hell, oh hell, oh hell! Alfred went down and quickly examined the fallen man. There was a slash and a growing damp patch visible on his clothes; Alfred felt sick.
He resisted the urge to panic. Screaming 'you made me do that!' at the person he just stabbed would do nothing to help the situation.
The man was trying to sit up, but the pain only forced him down again. Alfred grabbed the scarf from around his neck and pressed it to the other's wound, earning a quiet groan in response.
Alfred pulled out his phone and quickly dialed the number for emergancy services. "H-hello?" he said, trembling slightly. "A man's been stabbed. P-please hurry!" He had just finished giving the details of their location when his attention was caught by the blind man. Or rather, the blind man's chest. His coat had fallen open after he collapsed. The 'necklace' was a gold pocket watch, attached to a chain around his neck.
It glinted invitingly, and, as if in a trance, Alfred's hand closed around the pocket watch. He didn't stop once to think about what he was doing. He simply pulled, the thin chain snapping quickly and easily.
"Don't…" the man said weakly, reaching out his hand. "G-give it back…"
Alfred's gaze drifted from the pocket watch and to the man on the cold floor. The siren of an ambulance could be heard in the distance.
"I'm sorry," Alfred said, making sure the pocket watch and the wallet were securely placed in his pocket. He stood, turned, and started walking. He didn't look back.
—Chapter end (edited)