Whoo! Time for another update! Fast, right? I type more when I'm interested in things 100%! This story is just too addicting to write! Haha, I got a Hetalia shirt this week! I saw it in a store, and I literally jumped up and down with excitement, bought that bitch, and plan to be buried in it. Yay, me! Oh, but you don't care about that! So, update! But first we have to get out all your love! darkestlight96, ah, it's alright as long as you're back now! Missed you! Ember Hinote, if I told you, it wouldn't be as fun! Fynniona, aw, thank you! I understand being busy…*sigh* I just love fanart! Quiet. Crash, blah! I'm super innocent! luckycat222, haha, the rhymes are lyrics! I highly suggest reading the chapters with the soundtrack! It makes it better! Singing Artist, murder is a good topic anywhere! Aww, so glad you like the updates! You stay strong too! Snowspider, thank you so much! I love writing them so much, and I'm glad you like their dynamic! Rai Rai Blue, Toki is a very spoiled kitty, and only I can love him! Time Traveler will be updated when incidentalmusic and I hash it out… *sigh* We always get distracted! BrokenHeartedWarrior, oooh, France laugh! HetaliaHour, so sweet! I think you'll like how I'll make it pan out! Now, my lovelies, on with the story!
Dig
(Incubus)
[We all have a weakness, but some of ours are easy to identify. Look me in the eye, and ask for forgiveness; we'll make a pact to never speak that word again. Yes, you are my friend. We all have something that digs at us. At least we dig each other. So when weakness turns my ego up, I know you'll count on the me from yesterday!]
Having Alfred around even more was both good and bad.
Arthur craved his presence by this point. He loved the way Alfred would hang on to his every word. He loved how the American's eyes would light up when he was praised, complimented. He loved how the younger man would get so riled up when he was teased. He wasn't used to wanting to be around someone. He didn't want to let the feeling verge on obsession, but it seemed to be heading that way. Being around Alfred was an addiction, in its own way.
And Arthur Kirkland was becoming a fast junkie.
But, he was a man of conviction, even if he was a murderer on the side. He wasn't about to act on his desires and scare Alfred away. He would wait, calmly and coolly, until the man came to him.
Like good little prey.
In the meantime, he would stalk the undesirables until they were gone.
It had been a long while since the last murder, but that was only because he had been so busy. His little anatomy lessons with Alfred took up more time than he would have liked.
Turns out the American was a perfectionist when it came to art. Surprise. The damn git didn't seem to care about anything as much as he cared about his artwork.
Arthur was explaining the structure of a heart, trying to remember the more vivid details. It had been a while since Medical school, and he wasn't one-hundred percent on the little things.
Alfred seemed to not care, and he would ask anyway. Over and over.
And over.
It was this way with every new portrait the American painted for him, and soon enough, the office was full of charts more accurate than many medical books had in them. Alfred was getting paid handsomely, and his work was catching more and more patient's eyes.
And so was Alfred himself, much to Arthur's dismay.
The initial dislike of the sandy blond for being an American was fading, and it was replaced with pure fascination. The patient's would question him about life overseas, how he became such a good artist, etc.
The women seemed to like talking to him the most, because he was so adorable and enthusiastic. Alfred would make gestures when he talked, often excitedly. He was getting rather popular around the office.
Arthur wasn't pleased about the added attention, but he did like that fact that Alfred was having a good time.
That was most important for now.
Michelle was hovering over the American, watching him paint the newest chart, which was going to be the inside of an abdomen.
"This is so amazing!" she said enthusiastically. "I wish I could paint!"
"It's not really hard," Alfred said as he painted the outline.
"Not if you have talent," Arthur said from his place, grateful it was almost time to leave.
"Is that your fancy way of telling me I have no talent, Doctor?" Michelle spat.
"If I wanted to tell you something, I'd tell you clearly. I don't feel I should vocalize things that are obvious."
The two glared at each other, before Alfred shattered the match.
"I hate this! I don't know what a stomach looks like! I can't do it!"
"You say that about every new picture I ask you to paint," Arthur sighed, walking over to see the struggles himself as Michelle bustled about, gathering her things.
"But this one is super hard! I really can't do it!"
"Is it okay if I leave now, Arthur?" Michelle asked as she reentered the room. The doctor waved her away, listening as she left the two of them alone.
"Look," he sighed when she was gone, "You're over thinking this too much. I told you to draw a basic oval outline, and I would describe the rest later."
"Describe it now!"
"Listen, you! Don't boss me around! I'll tell you at another time when you're not obsessing over it so much."
"I need to get this done now! Please! I'm sorry I was bossy, okay? I just feel a vibe right now, and I need to paint it now!"
"Artists," Arthur sighed, leaning over Alfred in his chair to point at the canvas.
"The inside is a long trail of lines here," he began, placing his hand over the younger man's to guide his brush. "They overlap, and the bottom is a little tip like this," he moved their hands again. "Then you have the small intestines, which are a little more…" he paused as he turned to face his supposed student.
Alfred wasn't looking at the canvas. He was looking at Arthur.
"What are you staring at?" the doctor asked.
"Nothing… What's that line there for?" Alfred asked, pointing to a stray line.
"Oh, damn, I wasn't paying attention and my hand slipped, sorry. Let's…discuss this one later, alright? I think it's about time to call it a day."
Alfred huffed, but he nodded, and the two walked out together.
"I never thanked you," the American said after a few moments of walking in silence.
"Thanked me for what?"
"You gave me a job. Thank you."
"I didn't hire you because I felt obligated. I told you, I like your art."
"I know, I know. Thanks anyway."
Arthur shook his head, smiling a little.
"You truly are something else, Alfred."
"Something else good? Something you like?"
"Trust me, you're my favorite person."
Alfred beamed at him happily.
"But I hate most people, so I'm not sure how much of a compliment that is," Arthur added.
"I'll take it as one anyway!" Alfred chirped, turning down his usual road. "See you later!"
Arthur watched him go, longing to follow, but forbidding himself to. He had more to worry about than a silly kid. At least for now.
"Doctor Kirkland!" a familiar voice sounded. The blond turned to see Baker walking up to him.
"How are you tonight, Baker?" he greeted pleasantly.
"Alright, I guess. At least I haven't had the misfortune of meeting Jack the Ripper!" his patient laughed.
"Jack the Ripper? Who's that?" Arthur asked dimly.
"You haven't read today's paper?"
"No, why?"
"That killer who murdered those two women sent the police a letter yesterday! He signed it 'Jack the Ripper', so that's what everyone's been calling him now. Weird, huh?"
Well, since Arthur had sent no such letter, it was very weird indeed.
"Did they print a copy of the letter, too?"
"No, it didn't have that. Just the signature."
How infuriating. Someone was claiming his work as their own. Someone had the audacity to think of this as a joke, and claim a masterpiece as their own.
His credit was being stolen.
"That's fairly scary," he said to Baker pleasantly. "I have an early day tomorrow, so I'll be going home to retire now. Stay safe."
"You too, mate."
Arthur made his way home quickly, his anger fading as he went.
He had to think of this subjectively. Yes, he was given a false title, but if it kept suspicion off of him, it might prove useful. He didn't want to be named something he didn't call himself, but he had to look at the big picture.
As long as he wasn't caught, he could continue his work. He could continue to cleanse the streets of London.
So, Jack the Ripper he would be. At least for the time being.
And it was about time to get more practice to help Alfred's anatomy lessons.
[If I turn into another, dig me out from under what is covering the better part of me. Sing this song. Remind me that we'll always have each other, when everything else is gone. Oh, each other. When everything else is gone.]
Sachi: The debut of Jack the Ripper! Yes, for those who aren't familiar with the case, there were letters sent to the police department claiming to be from the killer. It is widely believed they weren't from the killer himself, because they were inconsistent. So, lesson for you!
