Arthur Kirkland was numb.
Grounded to nothing but gritty, frigid cement and dust, the male sat, emerald orbs turned up to an endless stretch of blue sky. A breeze was churning, sweeping coldness through his limbs, November winds chilling both blood and bones as his eyes refused to leave freedom's everlasting symbol.
'Meet us on the roof,' they had told him.
'Come alone,' they had said.
'Don't tell anyone.'
An empty, broken chuckle fell apart through the cold silence, disappearing into the short gale. He was pitiful. Pathetic Arthur Kirkland. Bruised and numb, back against the high ridge of a roof edge, he was seated, unable to protect himself from even the soft freezing burn of the air. All because he was a gentleman. Because he was kind. Because he was foolish. Because he made the choice to no longer fight.
"So stupid..." Arthur laughed quietly as he tore his eyes from the sky, believing himself unworthy of it's freedom. He glanced to his right. No one was there. Nothing but the bleak grey surface of a rough cement roof, outstretched and desolate, ending only with a high wall, made even higher by a smooth, chain link fence. Beyond it he could only see blue, tainted with steel metal, imprisoning the male as if a prison. Arthur gazed to the left, then to his front. The same sight was met. Only up. It was only there that the sky remained unsoiled. But now, his limbs numb, he no longer had the strength to allow his eyes to meet the blinding view. Eyelids fluttered shut as the green eyed male listened to the current blow faster through the air.
The wind was screaming.
He wasn't.
The wind was crying.
He couldn't.
A sigh was mixed with a small gust, unheard by anyone, not even it's owner. Arthur Kirkland was exhausted. But, still the boy forced himself to stand. His limbs would barely obey him. Yet he walked, heading towards the door. The Briton reached for the door knob, turning it and wincing at the sharp pain that even the smallest of movements cost him. But, as his foot stepped past the barrier between indoors and out, the sandy blond's back straightened, his aloof expression returning once more, contradicting his insides. Pain was nothing he couldn't handle. No one would know.
No one needed to.
"Arthur!"
Alfred rushed through the door of the student council room, ecstatically searching for the familiar image of fluffy blonde hair. The American had finished his math test much earlier than expected, allowing him an early leave. And, with free time on his hands Alfred F. Jones had only a single objective on mind: to find Arthur Kirkland.
Previously in the day, he had seen Gilbert with Mattie, Kiku with the history teacher, Francis with Michelle, and the two other junior members of the council in class, though not a single sign of the Brit anywhere in the school. The American grinned at a realization that entered his thoughts. If the student council members were elsewhere, it meant that the president was all alone. And, if Alfred were to find him, the two of them would be together.
Just him and Artie.
The blue eyed male bounced his last step into the student council, shoes landing onto the worn grey carpet of the space as the smile on his features widened. He glanced up, examining the room – wooden desks and all – once more searching for distinctive bright emerald eyes. His smile dropped when the expected sight was not met, an unpredicted and unwelcome extra present in the small space.
Yes. Arthur was there. He was sleeping. But, he wasn't alone.
"Tch. It's the idiot hero," sarcastic words spoke as brown venom contained eyes glanced towards the American's presence. Xiao Wang, the council's freshman representative was attendant, standing alongside the sofa and hovering over the unconscious Briton.
"Hey. Ain't you supposed to be in class?" Alfred asked the other male as his face fell into a scowl, annoyance littering his features. He wanted to be alone with the Brit. And the presence of Xiao Wang did not equal alone.
"I was going to the bathroom," Xiao stated as his eyes left the American's, returning once more to the sleeping male - an action that irritated the older male further. The Chinese male was holding Arthur's limp arm in his hand, seemingly examining the limb with a frown. His expression was mirrored in the blue eye male's own features as the American observed, annoyed. What kind of weirdo would just touch a sleeping guy's arm and stare at it?
"The bathroom is outside this room, to the right and down the hall."
Alfred gestured to the exit, indicating it's direction and his wish for the younger male to leave as he took a large step forward towards the two council members. Drawing closer, the American believed he caught the sight of a tiny spot of dark discolouration on the Brit's arm, but, before he could fully investigate, the fabric of Arthur's white dress shirt was pulled back over his skin, removing it from sight.
"Pervert." the Chinese male deadpanned at the American, dark eyes meeting with blue once more.
"Hey! I'm not the one that's staring at some guy sleeping!" Alfred rushed to his own defence as eyebrows furrowed deeply, though not quite deep enough to match Arthur's customary scowl.
Xiao refused to rebuke the defence as he moved forward to meet the American's stride, the difference in height plainly realized as the two were situated face to face. "You really are stupid, aren't you, idiot hero?"
With that single question, he pushed past the other, heading towards the door as Alfred reached for smaller male's wrist, grabbing it and pulling the other back. "Hey! What the hell do you mean? !"
Despite the grip on his wrist, Xiao's expression remained neutral, eyes dark. An expression reminiscent to Kiku in anger. "I mean, if you can't even see something that's happening right in front of you, you don't deserve to call yourself a hero, stupid American."
Sliding his wrist out of the larger male's hold, Xiao's eyes darkened as he glanced at the American, returning to their normal shade when they fell on the sleeping Briton. "You don't know anything. About him. About his past. About who he is. That's why you can't be his hero." The Chinese male glared at the American. "And that's why I can."
Xiao blinked, returning towards the exit. "Ignorant idiot. The one who can protect the stupid president is me." The male stepped through the door, glancing back momentarily. "I've told you before, haven't I? He doesn't need a hero." Eyes turned back to the empty hallway. "A hero like you anyways."
Alfred could only stare dumbfounded at the now empty doorway, his mouth dropped open. Did the Chinese male just challenge him over Arthur? And tell him that he couldn't be a hero?
He did.
A scowl fell over the American's features at the memory of the past event as he strutted over to Arthur's desk, pulling the black high back chair behind it towards the sofa. He seated himself on it, staring at the still sleeping Briton. Arthur's eyebrows were furrowed, even in his sleep, a small frown placed on his lips as he mumbled softly and incoherently in his unconscious state. Why was he always sleeping? Always tired? Always irritated?
Alfred poked the Briton on the cheek, earning a grumble yet not an awakening as his eyes never left the Brit. From his sources, A.K.A Kiku, Gilbert and Francis, Arthur held three jobs; one full time and two part-time, while at the same time was able to maintain his position as student council president and keep his grades up. Why did the Brit try so hard?
The blue eyed male furrowed his own eyebrows. Why did Arthur need to take so many jobs? Was he in debt or something? Hand trailing softly along the green eyed male's features, Alfred jabbed the other again once more, this time on the forehead. He didn't understand.
"Why won't you let me be your hero?" whispering softly, Alfred retracted his hands, kicking his feet roughly from the ground so that his seat was adjacent to the arm rest in which Arthur's head lay. He rested his arms on the free space, placing his head between them so that there was only an inch of space between himself and the other male. It was in that position that he remained for several moments before his eyes began to trail downwards, running along the smaller male's sleeping form. Arthur was clad in his customary forest green sweater vest, atop a white dress shirt, ironed and pressed. He was wearing dark blue jeans that clung neither loosely nor tightly along his legs and his shirt collar at the base of his neck was opened slightly, revealing just the smallest amount of chest. Alfred frowned. Before, he had seen that the Briton had pale white skin almost described as milky, but now, it seemed that blue and black spots littered his chest in droves.
The American swallowed, reaching for the Briton's collar, opening it slightly more. Bruises. A large number of bruises filled the small male's chest, almost overcoming the white skin that Alfred had come to adore. He had to force himself not to throw up the bile that was beginning to build up in his throat as he remembered. Xiao was staring at Arthur's arm wasn't he? Hands reached towards the Briton's limb, rolling up the sleeve and revealing what should have been pale untainted skin. Alfred did not like the sight at all.
Even more so than Arthur's chest, almost his entire arm was covered in bruises, some yellow with healing, others fresh and dark. Alfred's breath caught in his throat as he could only stare, silent. What the hell was this? Why the fuck was Arthur so injured?
How could he not see something that was right in front of him?
''If you can't even see something that's happening right in front of you, you don't deserve to call yourself a hero'
Xiao's words crept back into his mind at his own question as Alfred bit his lip, examining the damage on the Brit. It was disgusting. Disgusting that someone could do this him. To this extent. And Alfred wasn't there to protect him.
"Shit..." Alfred swore, his voice barely above a whisper as he put forth his best effort not to wake the other. With these injuries, Arthur deserved the rest. "Who did this to you...?"
Alfred could bared contain himself from waking the other – to demand what happened. It took the entirety of his patience, a virtue not well practised, to keep himself from shaking the other into consciousness. But, the effort failed as Arthur, much to Alfred's disdain, began to grumble, his eyelids fluttering open. Emerald eyes gazed up at the American, still half lidded with sleep as the now semi-conscious male mumbled. "...what are you doing...?"
The American froze in place, Arthur's arm still in his grip as his own azure orbs met the others. It was decided in that split second eye contact that now that the boy was awake, it would be the best time to ask. Alfred wanted answers. "Arthur...where'd you get these bruises?"
Alfred swallowed hard, holding himself back from adding swears into his questions as to not startle the other male. But, the question itself was enough to snap the green eyed male into full alertness, emerald eyes wide as he looked to his arm, then to the American, his situation realized. With a jerk, Arthur snapped his hand back towards himself, pulling the ruffled cloth of his shirt back over his skin. His expression resembled that of a trapped animal as he shuffled backwards to the other end of the sofa.
"It's none of your bloody business!" Arthur hissed, his eyes falling deeper into panic. He couldn't let the stupid American know. Because then the boy would try to be the sodding hero. And he didn't want that. Arthur Kirkland wasn't weak nor did he need protecting.
In any normal case, Alfred F. Jones would have whined. Would have nudged the other repeatedly until patience broke at the secret was told. But this situation was serious. And, therefore, Alfred F. Jones would not take shit from anyone. Even Arthur. The man in question.
"Tell me." Alfred ordered, any trace of his customary smile gone from both features and azure orbs. "Who the hell did this?"
The American couldn't help but seep in the tiny swear into his second question, just a small preview of his inner fury. Alfred F. Jones was selfish. It was a given fact. And that's why nobody hurt his Artie. "Arthur Kirkland. Give me a fucking name."
The addressed teen neither answered nor reacted, his eyes widened in frozen shock. Never had he ever seen the American so angry. Alfred held an aura that would have matched his at his most utmost rage. An aura that had caused many delinquents in the past to fall to their knees in fear.
"I refuse." Arthur's Adam's apple bobbed in his throat with every repeated swallow as he tried to back away further from the American's darkening aura. It was so uncharacteristic. So strange to see the sunny blond without a smile or a pout. And it frightened him.
"Arthur..." The words barely came out as a whisper, it's tone almost forced. Alfred was out for blood for the person who did this, protective determination and wrath welling up into his chest. It was his duty as a hero. To protect someone important to him. And Arthur was important. To him, Arthur was...
Alfred's thought came to a halt before the last sentence finished, the dark aura around him simmering down ever so slightly. What was Arthur to him? To be so protective of someone like this...was it normal?
He didn't understand.
The American shook away the questions with his mind, focusing on everything that was in front of him. He wouldn't miss a single detail.
"Arthur. Just tell me what happened." Alfred spoke once more, the atmosphere lightening around him further. The Briton's frozen trance was broken, allowing him the freedom to move;.
"It's none of your bleeding business!" Earlier declaration repeated, Arthur pushed himself off the furniture, rushing towards the exit. He didn't need this. Not another problem. Not another argument.
Alfred reached for the him, taken aback by the sudden dash. His hands were left stretched out, grasping thin air where a smaller, green eyed Briton should have been - but wasn't. Arthur had already left.
He had ran.
Feet paced against cold, dusty flooring as he continued along the hall, a space trickling with students now that the bell was merely minutes away from ringing, neither looking back, nor forward. His eyes were directed to the ground, tracing each speck of dust as Arthur Kirkland began to lose himself in his thoughts. Nap disturbed, an idiot American poking his curiosity in places it didn't belong, physically and mentally worn, it wouldn't come as a surprise if the British teen lost his mind right where his stood. Not that anyone would have noticed. Arthur Kirkland would never allow emotions that didn't need to be seen to be shown. That was his rule.
Nothing unsightly to be shown equalled no unneeded gossip. No rumours.
It was his unspoken rule. One that he had broken continuously ever since the arrival of a loud blue eyed American. Didn't the boy care about his career at all? To declare that he would make the Briton fall in love with him was bound to start whispers. To go along with the declaration would begin words. Alfred accomplished things that even Francis, the man so careful of his appearance and popularity could never hope to attempt no matter how hard he wished. It was as if the boy never experienced the pain of being looked down on, for lies that never occurred. Naivety. Alfred was the very epitome of it.
That's why he annoyed Arthur so.
"Arthur Kirkland."
His train of thought cut short, Arthur turned at the sound of his name being called. A group of girls, one he had seen so often in the week, stood behind him, the Belgium girl once again at the forefront of the hoard.
"The roof."
Given the silent order, Arthur let out a long breath, scratching his head. Really, this sort of thing was such an annoyance. Why did he even allow this to happen?
His thoughts returned back to the American he had left behind. Of the annoying embraces and grins that came with him. And the fruitful innocence that always seemed to cause him irritation.
Alfred F. Jones was bothersome.
But, he was entertaining.
And amusing.
Arthur wondered. If the boy came to understand the situation...would he blame himself? Find himself at fault? Look at Arthur with pity? Quieten his attempts of befriending him?
That wasn't something Arthur wanted. So, he wouldn't say a word.
Feet directed the sandy haired blond towards the rooftop, his voice unheard as the door to open air closed behind him.
It wasn't over.
Determined, his heart filled with pure stubbornness, Alfred F. Jones wasn't going to let Arthur Kirkland have his way. Shit was going on without the American's knowledge and that was a fact that didn't sit too well with him. Not after what he had just saw. It was for that reason and that reason alone that Alfred had gone after his target. Spotted him and followed.
In stealth mode.
Back against a wall, Alfred had watched. Seen how Arthur spaced out while walking and observed when the girls came up to him, taking the British teen away. And, with the swiftness of a spy – not a stalker – the American trailed after them, keeping a hallway's length away from the group. Shoes tracked against stairs, climbing upwards towards a single metal door, unidentical to any other door of the school, which were all built out of wood material and painted a variety of colours. Compared to that, the entrance emanated a foreboding aura, the solid grey colour of the entrance resembling that of a door from hell, one that he had seen numerous times in his precious horror movies. Alfred inched towards the entrance, the one that Arthur had disappeared behind only minutes earlier, seating himself beside it. And listened.
Arms out in front of him defensively, Arthur endured the numerous blows to his limbs, pain disappearing into numbness with every kick. He knew his arms would eventually pay the price for the defence, but, compared to the lessened damage on his torso, it wasn't much to pay.
"We told you to stay away from Alfred, didn't we? !"
Words barely registered into the Briton's mind in his focus to ward off the legion of strikes. His breath was ragged, the build up of physical abuse getting the best of him despite his determination to keep it at bay. One had to wonder how the boy still managed to chuckle at his aggressors.
"What? You're jealous?" Arthur snickered, coughs of pain threatening to burst forth from his chest. "I never would have thought that bloody little vixens like you lot would have the intelligence to accomplish that."
The green eyed male's assertion earned him another kick.
"Shut up! If you just listened to us, this wouldn't have to happen!"
Arthur closed his eyes, opening them only moments later to examine the group in front of him. A hoard of purely girls of all senior high school grades were present, each with a varying determination in her eyes. It wasn't difficult to spot that many held doubts concerning their actions. The leader included. Of all the hits laid on him, none were received by the one who first approached him, Bella herself.
Initially, the girl had held herself with confidence, an emotion that slowly dwindled with every hit that the student council president endured. Now, the certainty in her actions were long gone, replaced with deep bags under the high school student's eyes along with an anxious atmosphere. Bella stepped forward, gazing down at the boy and gesturing for the rest of the group to ease off behind her.
"Why won't you fight back?" the Belgium teen whispered, the guilt in her eyes clearly evident. "This isn't what Antonio told me you were like."
Arthur tilted his head at the recognition of a familiar name. "Is that so?"
"He said that you were someone who'd fight back! That you were dangerous!"
Bella clutched at the sides of her jacket, fists shaking. "Why aren't you fighting back? !"
"Well, isn't this a cliched little scene." Arthur chuckled at the girl's small interjection, the sound of his voice cynical. "What are going to say next.? That this wasn't going to happen? That it's not your fault? It's mine? I'm so sorry?"
Bella flinched back at the Briton's sarcasm. Yes. She was going to say those things.
"I -"
Before the Belgium girl could begin her verbal self defence, the girls behind her stepped forward once again, resuming their previous misdemeanours and pushing her our of the way. She brought her hand out to stop it, but, her actions were once again interrupted by another.
"All of you. Stop it."
Blue eyes flashed with pure fury as a blond haired American took his place in front of the smaller male, putting a hand out as if to separate the male from the abusers.
Alfred F. Jones was angry. And let the world be damned if he didn't show it.
A/N:
OH, SNAP! He knows! Okay, twelfth chapter you guys. Hope you enjoyed that. This chapter actually has only half of what I initially planned for it but I didn't want to disappear for a month soooo...here! Hmmm. Say, what'd you guys think of a little one-sided Hong Kong X England? Just to add a little drama? I had planned to add it in later chapters but drama was requested thus it came sooner than later. So here it is. But it's one sided so, people who don't support this pairing, no worries! This fiction's number one pairing is USUK and will always be USUK since it's my OTP. Always has and hopefully always will. Happy Halloween, you guys! Y'know, I just noticed that it's almost been exactly a year since I entered the Hetalia fandom and discovered fanfiction. Hahh...time sure passes by quickly doesn't it? It makes me laugh every time I remember my first reaction to fanfics. Locked myself in my room for a week, reading them when I should've been studying and sleeping. Aw, well! 'Till next time!