A young man stood on a cliff overlooking the ocean. A gentle sea breeze caressed his skin, bringing the salty scent of the ocean, filling his lungs with it. The deep blue of the large body of water before him was only rivaled by the blue of his eyes. He stood there taking in the view, clutching the object he had worked so hard to obtain. He let himself take in a moment of peace.
"There he is!"
"Get him!"
"Come back here Parker!"
The bellows of out of breath rage shattered that peace.
"Looks like time's up," He said cheerfully, arms at his sides, eyes dancing with amusement at the men that surround him, blocking his exit.
"What are you going to do now Parker?" One of the soldiers laughed triumphantly, "There's no way out, you might as well give up!"
He just smiled, "Ah, you would think so! But I've never been one to give up." He took a step back, then another. The soldiers matching him step for step. They glanced at each other, looking like predators going in for the kill. He was losing land; it seemed to be the end for him. They would catch him, take away his prize, and most likely it would be the gallows for him.
With one more step, he stopped, and took a bow, "Sorry boys, as much as I would love to play I really must be going."
"What are you on about Parker? There's no escape!"
"That's where you're wrong, there's always a way out for Jared Parker!" And with that he crossed his arms and fell backwards hurtling into the churning waters below. He would have laughed at their faces if he wasn't busy with falling and all.
The water was ice cold, it mercilessly stole his breath and threatened to still his body, but his mind was racing. He needed to move, the water was dragging him down into its murky depths. Each stroke took an eternity, his lungs were burning, and his clothes felt like lead weights. He needed to….he needed to… "Perhaps he should take off his clothes I know someone I would like see do that."
Arthur Kirkland jumped nearly a foot in the air hearing the heavily accented voice of a Frenchman behind him. "Bloody hell! Francis! How many times do I have to tell you not to sneak up on me when I'm writing?"
"But sourcils, that far off look when you write is so tempting. I just couldn't resist!" Said Frenchman was nuzzling his head, hands creepy a little too close to his lower regions.
"Don't call me that," Arthur replied crankily, upset at how familiar this ritual seemed, swatting away the hands, "Don't you have somewhere to be?" He turned back to his writings, trying to block out the existence of the blonde nuisance behind him.
"Oui, I do, but I'm here to remind you of something. What was it again?" He drawled on, tapping his bearded chin as if he really had to think about it.
"Get on with it, git," Arthur rubbed his eyes not wishing to deal with the French so close to his deadline.
"You wound me mon petite lapin, I am hurt! And here I was just trying to tell you that Kiku is coming to inspect your work earlier than planned," He didn't notice the Englishman stiffen, and then turn slowly around, a look of sheer horror on his face.
"When?" He asked rather shakily.
"Hmmm if I recall today in about….hmm five minutes, non?" Francis smiled brightly, that is until two small yet frightfully strong hands grabbed the front of his shirt dragging him down to eye level with the furious shorter blond.
"Bloody frog! Why didn't you tell me this right away?" Arthur shook Francis violently before pushing him away frantically trying to organize scattered pages, cursing his forgetfulness, and his unfortunate ability to lose things.
Kiku Honda was his editor; the Japanese man was calm and quiet, rarely getting angry. So rare, in fact, that he could count on one hand how many times since he started working with him how many times he seen Kiku angry. Arthur knew most likely he wouldn't be outraged, but still Arthur had a reputation to uphold and he hated disappointing Kiku, which he would be sure to do if he was late yet again.
Truth be told, the latest novel was giving him a bit of trouble. If you consider that the novel was supposed to be a heart pounding adventure, and Arthur Kirkland lived a…well not so heart pounding ordinary life, things weren't going smoothly. Sure at one point in time he dreamed of a life of adventure, believing one day of becoming a pirate. As evident by the way he used to dress up as one and start beating on the kid next door that once mentioned he was from Spain. He grew out of that phase, moving from beautiful England to bustling America taking to writing adventures. He was content, if not happy with being normal, but he felt that his writing was suffering because of it.
He broke out of his musings to notice that the frog was going on about something, which no doubt involved a lot of innuendos and smooth gestures. Somehow said frog was nuzzling him again. "Francis if you have nothing else would you kindly leave, preferably to go and die," Arthur took a swing at him, which Francis naturally dodged.
"Don't be so cranky, sourcils, or you'll never get a laid," He winked, and dodged another punch, laughing as he ran off.
"Stupid bloody frog, with his idiotic perverseness! One of these days I'm going to give him a beating. See if he can still smile if he has no bloody teeth." Arthur went back to organizing his papers, ranting on about how he was going to kill Francis.
His very detailed rant was interrupted however by a soft polite cough behind him. He dropped his papers in surprise, the pages scattering everywhere once more and turned to see Kiku bowing politely.
"Forgive me Kirkland-san, but your…uh 'friend' let me in." Kiku bent down and helped him pick up the pages.
"No, no, it's quite fine. And Kiku, do please call me Arthur," with their combined efforts the pages were gathered once more, "I'm sorry it's not quite done yet."
Kiku nodded looking over what was written so far, "It's as good as ever Arthur-san, but you do know the deadline is coming soon right? I'm not sure how much longer I can get the publishers to delay it once more."
Arthur bowed his head in shame, "Y-yes. I know. Don't worry, it's just a rough patch, a bit of writers block, but I'm sure I'll have it done by the deadline. I promise, on my word as an English gentleman."
Kiku nodded understandingly, "Very well Arthur-san. If you will allow me to make a suggestion?"
Arthur nodded, happy to get advice.
"Maybe you should go out and try something new, have an adventure of your own. That might help influence your writing."
Arthur sighed, it was sound advice, but he wasn't the type to go out looking for adventure. Besides what adventure could he possibly have? The world isn't like his stories. Nevertheless, he nodded if only to appease Kiku. The Japanese man in turn bowed politely and excused himself.
"An adventure?" Arthur mumbled after he was sure the other man was gone, "Where am I going to bloody find that? My life is ordinary, and that's the way it shall stay."
If he only knew…
Adventure or not what he really needed right now was tea. As a gesture of his recent streak of rotten luck he was having there was no a single tea bag in his house.
This meant if he wanted anything decent to drink he'd have to walk to a nearby tea house. With a sigh he gathered up his papers, thinking of which tea he wanted and what direction he was going to go with his novel.
He was so caught up in his thoughts about tea and how to make the story more convincing when crossing the street that he didn't see the light change midway through his journey across the road. He also was too busy picking his paper copy he had dropped yet again that he didn't notice the driver who was too busy searching for her phone in an overly large hand bag to notice the young man she was about to hit.
However, no one seemed to notice another young male with bright blue eyes run forward past the crowd gathered on the sidewalk, to push Arthur so hard he rolled forward at the feet of the spectators.
Arthur barely grasping what had just happened had only seconds to memorize the appearance of his savior.
It was a man who was likely no older than twenty, wearing faded jeans and a worn brown bomber jacket with a fuzzy black collar and 50 on its back in large white numbers. He had golden wheat blonde hair, glasses perched precariously on the edge of his nose, and his eyes… A bright blue, deep and determined. There was no fear in his eyes, only utmost certainty in what he was doing.
Arthur had less than a second to wonder at this man before the car flew by. His eyes widened like saucers then closed waiting for the sickening thump of a broken body and screams as people realized what just transpired. It never came.
He hesitantly opened his eyes, expecting something. Anything really, but much to his shock there was nothing. No blood, no body, no trace of the blue eyed man anywhere. Had he imagined it? No one else seemed to be looking for the man. In fact, some seemed to be staring at him in awe as if rolling away was a reflex.
Thoroughly spooked he quickly snatched his papers and stalked away deep in thought once more.
If he had looked back he might just have seen a pair of bright blue eyes watching him curiously with a smile on his face.
Now because it seems required of me I'm going to put the authors note at the end.
So, hi! New story, this time multi-chaptered. Please forgive me if updating is slow, as I am useless and tend to get distracted by different plot bunnies.
The main characters are England and America, but lot's of other characters will make their appearence so look forward to that. Also if you have any suggestions or want to see a specific character go right ahead and tell me in a review! I'm open to suggestion and not everything I have planned is written in stone. That being said, please review! I don't want to beg for them, but it would be nice to see them and they usually get me inspired to write more.
Another thing, big thanks to SuperKawaiiOtaku because she is awesome and was kind enough to point out my mistakes. Go check her out, she has a really cool Texas fic.
Alright last thing, I don't own Hetalia. Sigh, that was good to get off my chest. I'm feeling much better now.
Thank you for reading!