A/N: Hello again lovelies! I thought I'd upload chapter 2 now, to help the story flow from the prologue. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They are all Himaruya's.
Alfred F. Jones strode meaningfully through town, his new white sneakers gleaming and his stylish sunglasses reflecting the sunlight dutifully from his hidden azure eyes. His coat, patriotically decorated with stars and stripes, blew behind him in the wind, giving him the appearance of a cape, as if he were some sort of superhero. As he walked, children and adults alike stopped to stare at the youth as he moved throughout the town, his expression haughty and his stride confident. The children stared at him unashamedly, sharing rumours about his identity and how rich he was, while all the while their eyes glistened with admiration for the heroic-looking teenager. The adults, however, had varied responses - the younger generation of these also admired him, talking in hushed voices about his wealth and the amazing parties he hosted; the older generation could only shake their heads in disgust at his self-worthy attire and curse those rich enough to spend money on good causes - but who actually did absolutely nothing to help anyone but themselves.
Alfred, however, remained ignorantly oblivious to the gossip on this particular day; despite his cool, uncaring attitude he obtained as he walked, inside he was a mess. His heart was racing and his eyes were wild, discreetly hidden by the dark gleam of his sunglasses. If one were to look closely enough, however, they might see the telltale signs - the shaking hands, the hurried pacing, the teeth-grinding ritual all nervous citizens go through at some point in their lives. However, the crowd, always obnoxious and eager to prattle, took no notice of these small human features and instead just raised their eyebrows, stared and sighed at the sight of the young man striding through town in a seemingly important state. If only they knew!…
Alfred had woken up that morning with a hangover, which was the first odd thing - sure, most teenagers and adults alike suffered from hangovers after a shit-tonne of alcohol; it wasn't an uncommon condition but Alfred had always found himself to be unaffected by it. The next unusual thing that had occurred was that he'd found himself waking up next to a pool near the sunny beach he'd held his most recent party at; his shirt was floating in the water and there was a rubber ring around his head. This was strange, seeing as Alfred normally managed to make it to a bed in time before he passed out. He'd left the place without cleaning up - he'd specifically paid the employees of the pool to tidy up after him and his friends had finished their hardcore partying. He'd been on his way home, when he'd received an innocent phone call whilst he was in the middle of texting his friends, asking for their wellbeing after last night's splash. He had dutifully ignored the call, continuing to text his comrades, and had only glanced at the caller after he'd finished his texting spree. The sight he saw had shaken him.
You have recently missed a call from the HSBC.
Alfred had been worried, to say the least. A call from his bank was never a good thing - mostly because he'd only been called once before, and it had been a negative subject at hand - he'd broken his card and had left it somewhere to rot; they'd had it handed it in, and wanted to lecture him on the dangers of people finding his bank cards. This meant that now, Alfred was worried. In fact, he was so worried he decided to put on hold his plans for the day (more partying) and visit the nearest HSBC - hence why he was now practically running through town, ignoring the pedestrians gossipping and staring at the rich daddy's boy with something clearly on his mind.
The receptionist for the HSBC bank in town gasped audibly as a man in dark shades and a black sunhat looking like an insane extract from The Matrix burst through the ornate doors with a yell. She sunk down in her seat slightly as the seemingly stressed man ran up to her and slammed his hands on her desk; he paid no attention to her shocked response, and instead just stared desperately at her.
"Whaddaya want from me!?" he yelled, and only then seemed to notice how scared she was looking. He coughed slightly, and straightened up. "I mean…uh, why did I get a call from you?"
She stared in confusion, and Alfred realised what he'd just said, and how it could be interpreted.
Rubbing his forehead in irritation, he tried again. "The bank - uh, your bank - called me. I missed it… what did you want to tell me!?" he stammered, trying to get the meek girl to understand with the willpower in his eyes - oh wait, he had shades on didn't he? That could explain her nervousness. He pocketed them, and lifted his sun-hat so as to show her his face. She relaxed visibly at the sight of his familiar baby blues and tanned complexion.
"Ah, Mr. Jones… you really shouldn't scare me like that," she sighed, straightening up when she realised the madman was actually just the awkward, rich young youth who she had spoken to months before.
Alfred nodded sheepishly, and shrugged as he fiddled with his hat. "So…why did you want to speak to me on the phone?" he asked, a lot more calmly this time. With an efficient sigh, she tapped some keys on her computer as she looked through the files. Alfred waited patiently, though he could feel his patience slipping away as he realised he needed to be somewhere - specifically a party - very soon.
Eventually, the receptionist paused, an expressionless look coming over her features. She looked up at him gravely, and simply said the five words that would change Alfred's life forever.
"…Your bank account is empty."
Alfred stopped in his tracks as his jaw hit the floor. He blinked disbelievingly - there was no way he was broke! No, he had his dad's money, his rich businessman dad's money! Loads of it! What had… where had… how had…
"I take it this is rather bad news, sir?" the receptionist asked sternly, taking in the look of horror on the teen's face.
Alfred ignored her as thoughts raced round his feverish mind: he could see Matthew's angry face now, demanding that Alfred pay him back like he promised… he could see his friends, dismayed at the sudden end to their joint fun… and he could see his father, shaking his head in disappointment at the waste of valuable money he'd given him.
"…You have no idea," Alfred breathed, the realisation sinking in that he had no money. At all.
The receptionist rolled her eyes at him. She'd seen this many times before - a young teen spends and spends and spends without thinking of the consequences. She'd known it would only be a while before it happened to the youth before her.
"Well, at least you're not in debt. That's always a good thing," she smiled, trying to console the broken teenager. Alfred just shook his head absently, before spinning around and disappearing through the doors.
"Wait, we still need to sort out your…" The doors slammed shut. "…bank account," the receptionist huffed, crossing her arms at the rudeness of the boy she'd just attended to. Honestly, kids these days! If she'd had the money he had owned… she sighed in envy. Well, at least his dream was over now - maybe he'd gotten what he deserved in the end.
Meanwhile, Alfred was panicking big time. As he ran through the streets, ordered a taxi and ordered the taxi to take him home now, only one thing was on his mind - I need to talk to Matthew.
His half-brother would help, he was sure of it. After all, brothers stick out for each other, right? He winced internally as he suddenly remembered that over the past few months since leaving home he hadn't done that at all - leaving his brother to pay the rent and buy food for them both while he partied away with excuses of paying him back later. Yeah, maybe Matthew wouldn't be so eager to help…
"But I deserve it," Alfred moaned, rubbing his hands through his golden hair in distress.
"Is something wrong, sir?" the taxi driver enquired, peering through the mirror at the shaken boy in the back seat. He'd known Alfred for a while, helping the teen to and fro places he so desired; and he also liked the teen for his constant cheeriness and good will (and the fact that he paid well was an added bonus). So to see him here like this, hunched over and berating himself, was a little off putting.
Eventually they arrived, and the driver turned with a smile, ready to take the good payment Alfred always supplied - only to hear a door slam and a hasty 'sorry!' come from outside. The driver could only stiffen in shock and anger as the one customer who always paid ran off towards his house, leaving the taxi driver penniless and furious.
Alfred cringed as he heard a loud curse explode from the taxi, followed shortly by a creative flow of insults. But, again, he deserved it - although he had no money on him at that time. Or any other time now. Alfred shuddered as he swiftly unlocked the door to the brothers' shared apartment, marvelling despite his worry at the clean, welcoming atmosphere inside. He heard his brother's hassled sigh coming from the small kitchen.
"Come in!"
Alfred shivered internally. His brother was not going to like this… not one bit. He slammed his palm against his face in despair as his brother appeared from the kitchen. God, why was he such an idiot?
"You're such an idiot!" Matthew groaned for what felt suspiciously like the fifteenth time, waving his hands dramatically as he lectured his brother over and over. Alfred sighed from the sofa, rubbing the back of his neck meekly as he blinked innocently up at his distressed brother.
"I said I was sorry," he mumbled, wishing he'd gone to someone who wasn't quite as… teacher-y. Yeah, someone like Francis or Antonio would have been better. Or Gilbert - his albino friend would certainly have been better at consoling him, or making him feel a whole lot better than he did right now. In fact, all three would be good. They could go to a bar, and drink, and party, and-
"Are you even listening to me!?" Matthew whined, effectively bringing Alfred away from his straying thoughts. Alfred just grinned encouragingly, but his grin was laced with irritation.
"Yeah, sure thing bro! I always listen to you," he assured, but Matthew just glared at him.
"See, this is your problem! You never take anything seriously enough! You just… you just sit there, and laugh about everything, and let me do all the hard work, and… and…!" the quiet brother wailed in desperation, willing his brother to understand how to take something seriously for once. Oh, for the love of maple…
Alfred sighed sheepishly, realising he hadn't helped his brother's mood one bit. He sat up slightly from where he was sprawled on the sofa, looking his brother straight in the eyes.
"Look. I am taking this seriously, as much as you think I'm not. I just… don't know how to cope with this! I mean, I know I've messed up, and I know I need to fix it big time, but I just don't know how!" he cried, pouting childishly and hunching pathetically in front of his normally sweet brother. Matthew grunted, torn between being unable to resist his brother's charm any longer and wanting to whack his pretty little lights out with a hockey stick. Eventually, he settled on the former option and simply gave a tired smile.
"It's just like you never grew up, isn't it? You're still a kid inside, even though you're nearly twenty - and I know just the thing to get you to grow up, and fix things at the same time!" he consoled his wretched brother, patting him on the shoulder and sitting down next to him from where he had been giving his lecture. Alfred turned to him with hope-filled eyes sparkling with new aspirations, and Matthew smiled at the thought of actually being useful to his brother in terms other than paying his rent.
"What is it?" Alfred whispered, with the same unyielding optimism a small child might have when talking to Santa, and Matthew felt another warm glow at his brother's faith in him, his meek little half-brother. He smiled knowingly, playing out the part of a helpful brother for once, and said simply,
"You need to get a job!"
…
There was silence after the phrase. Matthew waited eagerly for his brother's grateful response, hands clasped eagerly together while he mentally patted himself on the back. Alfred, however, said nothing, standing stock-still for the second time that day. He coughed slightly to break the silence.
"A-aha, good joke there, Matthew. Wow, ya really got me," he stuttered nervously, attempting to pacify the quiet rage his brother would surely be sporting afterwards.
Matthew's smile dropped instantly, and he glared at his brother, who was currently slowly shifting away from the angry Canadian next to him.
"I wasn't joking!" Matthew growled, and saw with a slight amount of satisfaction that Alfred flinched at his words; it wasn't often Matthew got to be the aggressive one in their brotherly relationship.
"B-but Mattie, you know I can't get a job! You should just lend me some money instead - If I got a job I'd fail, and I'd mess up, and they'd kick me out and…" Alfred trailed off from defending himself at the furious gleam in his brother's eye. Oh dear. The look on Matthew's face was one not seen often - in fact, the last time Alfred remembered it was as kids, when Alfred had 'accidentally' broken the top half of the bunk bed and had fallen onto Matthew in the middle of the night. Then, Alfred had ended up with a whack in his special place from a hockey stick and puck. Now…
Alfred winced at the hockey stick twirling dangerously in Matthew's hand. When the hell had that gotten there? Sweating nervously, he placed both hands over his crotch and stood up, backing away with the speed of someone who doesn't want to get whacked in the privates by their psycho brother wielding a hockey stick.
"Now then, Mattie, if you're gonna be like that then I guess I can always try and-"
"You'll go and get a job NOW!" Matthew yelled, running at Alfred with the hockey stick. With a yelp of shock, Alfred hastily backed out of the front door, with a cry accompanying him as the door slammed shut behind him.
"And don't come back begging me for money until you're earning some!"
Alfred groaned out load, cursing his life and how stupid he was. So he needed to find a job. Great. He'd always hated jobs, but it wasn't so much the work that annoyed him - it was the bosses, and most importantly, the rules.
Don't eat this, don't talk like that, do this, never do that… it would be like living with his fucking parents again! Not that he'd minded living with his parents so much in childhood - it was just when he'd gotten to that teenager-y stage and they'd been all about the rules. His step-mom had been all right, if a bit more attached to her own son than Alfred - but his father? Alfred swore he could still feel the lashings with a belt on his wrists…
Alfred sniffed slightly as he felt himself get dragged down further into his dark hole of despair. Great, as if money-angst wasn't enough, now he had to deal with old memories as well? Alfred groaned again, rubbing his steamed-up glasses (which were certainly not steamed up because he'd been crying; heroes didn't cry!) and pulled out his phone to call a cab. He may as well go into town and see if there were any - oh wait, the taxi company probably hated him now.
But his favourite town was 6 miles away! Sighing, he realised he'd have to go to the tiny town near the posh estate him and his brother lived in, which was renowned for having the snobbiest citizens a town could have. Jesus Christ, he couldn't get a break today could he!? He stood quickly, stepping out of the porch and…
Into a gush of rainwater from the gutter.
Matthew just watched sadly from the window as he heard a stream of obnoxious curses that would make a sailor cringe coming explosively from his sodden brother as he stormed down the tiny pavement towards the town ahead. Rain spattered down around him, soaking the brother's hair and giving him the appearance of a wet, downtrodden puppy. Matthew tried to feel justified in his decision; it was for Alfred's own good after all, but he couldn't help but feel a small stab of guilt of being an aid to the cause of his sudden misery and woe.
…But it was for the best. Alfred would get a job, and earn money, and finally learn to be independent; he would fit into society better, and could even start his life over.
That is, if he could get a job; Alfred hadn't been lying when he'd predicted he'd mess up - he wasn't exactly the height of social etiquette.
"Oh Alfred, please don't mess this chance up," Matthew whispered.
...And thus the tale begins. Have a nice day !(and remember - reviews are a delight to receive, dear readers)