Hey everybody :) Sorry for the delay in putting this up. But on a happy note, it snowed like crazy around here a few days ago, so classes have been called off for four days so far! So it's like having an entire extra week off for winter break :D It's been awesome~~~and that's how I had time to finish this chapter! All thanks to the snow!
And now, thanks to everybody who reviewed: Hana1225, Sha-Lin, ImaduckQuaQua, RLunatic78, yamishun, IchigoMelon, c at'akai, ToastWeaselofDOOM, and TheWonderBunny
At Sha-Lin: Yay! Thank you for the very lovely review :D It's nice not to have to use google translator this time haha But anyway, you review was very touching and I appreciate it! And I'll have to remember that laundry closet idea for later XD It sounds like something that would happen to Arthur. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter too :)
Disclaimer: Axis Powers Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya (not me!)
Ch 7: Graduation
Come graduation day, the Jones's household was once again thrown into chaos. Its residents seemed to be doing nothing but rushing to and fro, up and down stairs, making sure everything was in order for the big day. The Joneses had hired a professional photographer to take pictures of Matthew in his graduation garb—without consulting Matthew about it beforehand, of course. So he suddenly found himself being shoved into the spotlight, with camera flashes blinding him from all angles. Well, at least he was the center of attention for once.
Arthur, on the other hand, was perfectly happy to shy away from all the hustle and bustle downstairs. He stayed in his room for as long as he could, still not entirely sure if it was such a smashing idea to join the Joneses at Matthew's graduation ceremony. His anxiety probably had something to do with meeting Alfred's parents. He wanted to make a good impression—for strictly professional reasons, of course—but he worried he might come off as too soft-spoken and meek, especially when compared with the blabbermouth that was—
"Hey Arthur, are you ever gonna get up?" Alfred called, banging on Arthur's door. "If you don't, I'll have to break it down—"
"Try to contain your rabid instincts for another minute, and I'll be out!" Arthur yelled, straightening his tie. He had put on something more formal for the occasion, just as Alfred had. In fact, when Arthur opened his door, he could hardly believe it was Alfred at all; he was used to seeing Alfred in such casual, slacker-inspired clothing that it was almost shocking to see him looking all formal and business-like. Not that Arthur entirely disapproved of the look. After all, Alfred did look rather handsome—almost charming, actually . . .
"Hey, you in there?" Alfred asked, rapping his knuckles on Arthur's head. "You seem a little spacey. Not still distracting you, am I?" His mouth curled into a smug grin.
Charming? Arthur thought, glaring up at him. What the bloody hell was I thinking?
xxx
When Arthur arrived downstairs, the photographer was just leaving, and Matthew was catching his breath on the sofa. The whole room was decorated with bouquets of flowers and an oversized congratulatory banner featuring Kumajirou in a party hat. No one else was around except Matthew, so Alfred took the chance to personally congratulate him.
"Look at you, little bro!" Alfred said, going up to Matthew and pulling him into a choke-hold. "You look all scholarly and grown-up! Who would've thought?"
"Your affection is . . . overwhelming," Matthew gasped, scarcely able to breathe with Alfred's arm around his neck.
"I think he means that literally," Arthur pointed out. "He's starting to turn blue."
"Blue? What do you mean?" Alfred began, letting him go. "This is like one of the most awesome days of your life, Mattie! How can you be feeling—"
"I meant he was turning blue from lack of oxygen, not that he was feeling depressed," Arthur said.
"Lack of oxygen? Yeah, I think it's kinda stuffy in here too. We should go out and get some fresh air," Alfred agreed, completely unaware that Matthew's lack of oxygen had nothing to do with the stuffiness of the room.
"Mom and Dad should be getting here soon anyway," Matthew began, regaining his voice, "so maybe we should go out on the lawn and meet them."
"Sounds good," Alfred agreed, making for the door.
"I'm coming," Matthew replied in his usual whispery voice. Arthur began to wonder if the whispering might have something to do with all the years of near-strangulation by Alfred.
xxx
As Alfred, Matthew, and Arthur arrived outside, a dark limousine was pulling up the Jones's driveway.
They're here already, Arthur thought, standing up as straight as he could. Indeed, it seemed the Joneses had arrived right on cue; the next thing he knew, a woman had sprung out of the vehicle and rushed over to Matthew, wrapping her arms around him. Once again, it seemed the poor boy was being starved of air, as Mrs. Jones seemed to have every bit as much squeezing power as Alfred.
"My baby, you look so ADORABLE!" she yelled; she was every bit as loud as Alfred too. It was apparent that he had taken after his mother. She looked good for her age, and she was wearing a bright red dress and high heels. Her light blonde hair fell in waves about her shoulders, and her personality was just as bouncy as her hair style. When she was finished showering her affection upon Matthew, she flitted over to Alfred and spent some quality time squeezing him too. But then her eyes fell upon Arthur, and he was suddenly very afraid.
"And you're Arthur, aren't you?" she asked, starting toward him. "How rude of me not to introduce myself! I'm Amelia Jones."
"Nice to meet you," Arthur said, holding out his hand. But instead of a handshake, Mrs. Jones squashed him up against her chest, squeezing hard.
"Alfred, you never told me how cute he was!" she yelled, shooting her son a reproachful look. Addressing Arthur, she continued. "Alfred told me you were staying here, but he failed to mention how adorable you are!" Arthur would have issued a word of thanks, but he was having a bit of difficulty breathing. "I hope my little Alfie's been treating you well, dear." Glancing over at Alfred, Arthur could have sworn he noticed a smug smile flash across his face. "Have you been enjoying your stay so far?"
"Yes, very much," Arthur replied as Mrs. Jones released him from her grip. Still gasping a bit for air, he said, "I met with Mr. Worthington recently, to discuss business."
"Ah, yes," Mrs. Jones said. "It's a perfect match, don't you think?"
"What?" Arthur mumbled. His gaze had been fixed upon Alfred, but he pulled away to look at Mrs. Jones. "What were we talking about?"
"Our companies, I mean," she clarified. "Our companies are a perfect match for one another—for a business partnership, don't you think?"
"Oh yes, yes of course," Arthur said, staring at his shoes and wondering if it were even possible to make a bigger fool out of himself. But I highly doubt that, he thought, no one could manage it better than I.
"Arthur, you have to meet my husband," Mrs. Jones said, as he had just come to stand beside her. "This is Jack."
"Mr. Kirkland," Mr. Jones said, nodding to Arthur. As they shook hands, Arthur noticed that the man was (thankfully) quieter than his wife. He wore glasses like his sons, and he was very handsome with slightly darker blond hair than his wife. He seemed to give off an aura of intimidation, and it made Arthur nervous.
After he was finished introducing himself to Arthur, Mr. Jones congratulated Matthew on making it to the big day, and then he turned to Alfred. The two didn't exchange many words, but Arthur could tell that their relationship was tense. No doubt they had argued about Alfred's lackluster involvement in company affairs, so it seemed they were still on shaky terms with one another.
"Well, I think it's about time we headed out," Mrs. Jones perked up, attempting to break the tension. But Arthur knew it would take more than a few cheery words to do that.
xxx
Much to Arthur's surprise, Matthew's graduation ceremony turned out to be utterly uneventful—in a good way, of course. Arthur hadn't forgotten that it was Friday the 13th, and as such, he kept expecting the stage to burst into flames or the roof to cave-in or some-such, but the event went off without a hitch. Matthew tripped on his robe once or twice, but he recovered quickly enough. And when his name was called, Mrs. Jones and Alfred made a complete spectacle of themselves by yelling and cheering for him. Arthur thought it a wonder they didn't get thrown out of the building for their boorish behavior, but he supposed no one really wanted to go near the Joneses for fear of being pummeled. Actually, the cheering turned out to be a rather amusing thing to watch, once Arthur had stuffed his fingers in his ears.
After the ceremony (once Mrs. Jones had finished taking a few hundred pictures and sobbing about how her babies had grown up so fast), the Joneses went out for dinner, inviting Arthur to come along with them. Though he still felt a bit awkward about the whole thing, it was too late to refuse, so he reluctantly agreed. At the restaurant, amidst a tray of flaming appetizers, Mrs. Jones started off chatting about how proud she was of Matthew; after all, it was his graduation day, and so the conversation deserved to revolve around him for once. But Mr. Jones seemed more interested in discussing business.
"So, Mr. Kirkland, Bob told me you had a business meeting together," he began, much to his wife's annoyance. "He was very impressed with you. He said the meeting went well."
"I tried my best," Arthur said, not sure how else to respond.
"Just a few days ago, you were involved in that terrible fire, and yet you haven't let that slow you down," Mr. Jones went on. Though he was speaking to Arthur, his eye was fixed on Alfred. "You know, my son could learn a thing or two about dedication from you."
Alfred glared at his father but said nothing. Arthur could tell he was biting back his tongue.
If only I had let him stay at that business meeting, Arthur thought, cursing himself, then his father wouldn't be reprimanding him like this. But it was my own bloody fault. All because it was too distracting for him to be around me . . .
"Bob told me you had an idea about how we could pool our companies' resources," Mr. Jones went on. "It was very clever of you—"
"Actually, that was Alfred's idea," Arthur blurted out, silencing the entire table. Everyone stopped eating to stare at him, most especially Alfred. What he had said was a lie, but he couldn't stand to see the way Alfred's father was treating his son. So he didn't take back what he had said. "Alfred and I had discussed it before the meeting. I thought it was an excellent idea as well—that's why I mentioned it to Mr. Worthington."
"It's true—I heard them discussing it," Matthew piped up, much to the surprise of both Arthur and Alfred.
"I see," Mr. Jones said, taken aback, "well, in that case, good thinking, son." He nodded to Alfred. "Perhaps Mr. Kirkland's presence has had a positive impact on you after all."
Alfred opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn't very well deny anything now—not when both Arthur and Matthew had vouched for him. So he just smiled and went back to nibbling at his food.
Mrs. Jones cleared her throat. "Yes, we're proud of you, Alfred, but this is Matthew's celebratory dinner, isn't it? So why don't we agree to shelve this business talk for the rest of the evening, hmm?" Everyone was more than eager to oblige.
xxx
Following dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Jones turned in early, still worn out from their long flight back to California. Matthew had actually been invited to a graduation party by his friends, so he left shortly after the family returned to their estate.
"I'm not sure what his definition of a party is," Alfred said after they had seen him off, "probably something involving table hockey and napping."
"Well, I hope he enjoys himself," Arthur replied. "He deserves it, especially since dinner didn't go all that splendidly . . ."
"Y'know, you shouldn't have lied for me," Alfred told him, crossing his arms and leaning against the living room wall. "Why did you, anyway?"
"I—I didn't do it for you," Arthur muttered, looking away. "It was just that the tension was ruining Matthew's dinner, that's all. That's the only reason I lied about it."
"Because it was ruining Matthew's dinner?" Alfred repeated, raising an eyebrow.
Arthur tried to keep his gaze focused on the floor, but it was no use. He could feel Alfred's stare boring into him, wearing him down like saltwater lapping at a cliff.
"All right," he conceded at last, "I lied because I didn't think it was quite fair the way your father was treating you, that's all." He blushed, but Alfred pretended not to notice.
"It's okay, I'm used to my dad treating me like that. But thanks for the gesture anyway."
"Don't expect me to do it again."
"Of course not," Alfred replied, grinning, "Wouldn't want to ruin that prickly image of yours—you know, the one you try so hard to keep up."
"Prickly image? What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" Arthur snapped, whipping around to face Alfred. "Besides, what about you? Always pretending to be so oblivious about everything—"
"Oblivious about what?"
"There—see, you're doing it again! Pretending as though you don't notice anything—"
"Notice what?"
"Nothing," Arthur grumbled, suddenly regaining control of himself. "Absolutely nothing."
"How can I 'pretend to be oblivious' about nothing?"
"Just forget I said anything," Arthur insisted, turning back to stare at the wall. He realized that he had already said too much—or was it too little? He couldn't decide whether he actually wanted Alfred to know what he was feeling or not. Things were just so complicated . . .
Silence ruled the room for a few moments before Alfred finally spoke again.
"I've got a plan," he said.
"Please spare me—"
"I'm gonna go get a carton of ice cream, and then I'm gonna sit here and eat while we have a little chat about these things that I've been so 'oblivious' about, all right?"
"No, that's—"
But Alfred was already sprinting for the kitchen.
Good God, what have I done now? Arthur collapsed onto the couch behind him. What the bleeding hell is he expecting us to "chat" about, anyway? Arthur suddenly pictured the night at the drive-in movie, when he'd shivered every time Alfred had touched him. And then he thought of the business meeting, when he had been forced to dismiss Alfred because he was too distracting . . . What the hell am I supposed to say to him? How can I explain any of this to him when I don't even know what it means myself?
"Bad news," Alfred said, suddenly popping his head back into the room. "I forgot I ate all the ice cream last night."
"Why am I not surprised?" Arthur mumbled.
"But it's no big deal," Alfred continued. "I'll take my bike and head down to the store, grab a couple of cartons. What kind do you want?"
"Anything's fine," Arthur replied, not in the mood to be picking ice cream flavors. His stomach was so fluttery that he didn't think he could eat any of it regardless.
"All right, I'll be back again soon," Alfred assured him, "so just stay there."
"Fine," Arthur said as Alfred sped out the door. "I was hoping that this Friday the 13th might not be so intolerable after all, but apparently that was just wishful thinking."
And it turned out to be very wishful thinking indeed. Because Alfred didn't come home that night.
xxx
Oh no, what happened to Alfie ? Guess you'll just have to find out next time…
On a side note, I modeled Alfred's mom after the female version of America (she's sometimes called Amelia) since I thought she'd fit the part really well.
Next chapter: Alfred's in some real trouble, and Arthur's seriously worried about him. But what happened to Alfred anyway—and why?
Find out next time! :D Thanks for reading and REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW please! See you all then!
