Alright! Chapter 2, getting started!

Okay, more like Chapter 1 since the last one was more like a 'hey, bitches, I'm back' sorta thing.

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*ahem* Aaaaanyways, I hope you guys all still remember that I don't own anything. Oh, and the story is rated T for swearing, some sexual content, and a bunch of random shit that's about to go down.

"Alfred F. Jones! Get back here NOW!"

Alfred's laughter could be heard all throughout the hallways, his shoes slapping against the tiles as he rounded another corner, nearly running into a group of giggling girls. Giving each of the girls his signature wink and smile, he waved to them quickly before taking off again, the heavy footsteps behind him telling him to hurry the hell up already. An extra boost of adrenaline shot through him as the blond boy hopped onto the staircase railing and slid all the way down to the main floor of the building before continuing his full on sprint, a few drops of sweat dripping from his forehead. He didn't even have to look behind him to know that he was still being chased, however, because those footsteps from earlier told him everything he needed to motivate him to keep running. Oh, and the constant threats about detention being yelled at him helped, too.

"Like hell I'm going to stop!" He managed to yell back at his pursuer. He bobbed and weaved through a swarm of students around the door, flashing a thumbs up to some of his buddies, who laughed and gave him a thumbs up back.

Just a bit more! The door's in sight! I bet if I ju- Alfred's thoughts were interrupted by a sharp pulling off his brown bomber jacket, making him fall back into the hand grabbing it. He mumbled under his breath a swear, hanging his head in shame against his chest.

"Nice try, Mr, Jones. But I'm afraid it's going to take a lot more than pantsing your history teacher and running out of the room while screaming 'High ho, silver' to get you out of class early on Friday." The hand's owner sighed heavily before releasing it's grip on the giggling teenager. But just before Alfred could get away, the hand turned him around to face it's owner: Headmaster Klaus Beilschimidt.

The Headmaster, or rather, Dr. Beilschimidt as the students were told to refer to him as, was a very broad and intimidating man. His pale yellow hair reached a good two inches past his shoulders, a single braid coming down in front of one of his cold, icy blue eyes. He always seemed to wear a clean suit and loafers on any regular school day, and even when he was dressed up for Spirit Days where students and teachers of the like wore all sorts of crazy clothes, he still gave a few students chills.

The look Dr. Beilschimidt was giving Alfred right now, however, was nothing short of a glare. "Mr. Jones, you are approaching your third year of highschool and yet you insist on acting like a child who has just started kindergarten! If you aren't going to act like a responsible adult, then at least learn how to act in public, are we clear, Mr. Jones?"

Alfred smiled happily. "Crystal clear, Doc!"

Another sigh left the man's mouth as he turned to leave. "Now get yourself home safely. Don't make your parents worry, got it?"

"You got it, sir!" Alfred replied with a salute, blasting off once again towards the main doors. He could hear a faint shout of 'Don't run in the halls!' from behind him, but he knew that the man wasn't going to really do anything about it. That's just the way the Headmaster was: all bark, not much of a bite.

And even though Alfred was a pain in the neck for Dr. Beilschimidt, he couldn't help but hold a soft spot in his heart for the boy.

"Kesesesesesese! I told you he'd do it, Ava!"

Gilbert smirked, his hands looping back around his head, making a headrest as he walked. Ava just giggled and smiled back at her albino friend. "I never said I doubted you! I just said it was a risky dare, that's all!" The Spanish woman then proceded to twirl a lock of her already-curly, brown hair in between her fingers, spacing off as the group made their way towards their favorite place to eat on Fridays: a local family owned Italian place simply called "Italiano".

"Oh please! You worry too much, Ava!" Alfred said with a bright and cheery smile of his own. "Besides, everyone knows that Gil's old man's just a softy at heart! I was never in any real danger!"

"He is right, mon ami~!" Francis chimed in, restings his arms atop Ava and Gilbert's shoulders. "You should really learn to relax a bit. It's not good for a woman's beauty to keep worrying about tiny things. They cause wrinkle lines, you know."

Ava shrugged and sighed. "I know, but I just can't help but worry about you guys! You're my friends and friends worry about one another, si?"

The three boys nodded and soon they were chatting aimlessly about each of their days. They all laughed at Francis pushing Gilbert into the ladies bathroom yesterday, which led to him knocking headfirst into a certain Hungarian named Elizaveta. The bruise on his forehead explained the rest of the story. And they laughed even harder when Gilbert recalled the story of how he got back at him today by filling up his locker with live snails.

Now, many would look at these friends and wonder how on Earth they could ever be friends, dispite their huge differences. Well, it all started back in the fifth grade, where a harmless game of Truth or Dare quickly turned into Dare or Dare. Alfred did every dare he asked for, even the crazy ones that gave him a few scapes and cuts, like jump from the top of the palyground. It wasn't untilthe Bad Friends Trio, or Ava, Francis, and Gilbert, joined in the game that things become even more hectic when the dares began to span over days instead of minutes.

So according to the four friends, they were still playing that same game from nearly seven years ago. Did they care? No, not really. It was more of an excuse to hang out nowadays than an actual game, but they still dared each other from time to time.

After 20 minutes of walking, the group arrived at the restaurant. The wafting arouma from the spices and sauces could be smelled all the way from outside, the smell only intensifying as they stepped through the doors.

The whole restaurant floor was covered in a dark red rug, the walls themselves a warm mocha brown. All around you could see thousands of photos of different places in Italy. Most of them were in black and white, but if you looked hard enough, you could actually see a few in colour, though they weren't noticed as often. In the way back there was a large kitchen where chefs and waiters both rushed to get food ready and to the customers. A large flame burst from a pan and a few patrons called out in excitement.

The waiter at the front looked up and immediately smiled at the four. "Veh~ Hi guys! Your usual table's all set up!"

Francis smiled as everyone started walking towards their table by the window. "Merci, Feliciano, for saving our table."

"No problem! You guys are great customers, so we're always willing to make an exception for you~" With a nervous chuckle, he added quickly. "O-of course, I'm speaking in place of mi sorella...B-but don't let that bother you! Enjoy your meal, everyone! Sorella will be out to serve you shortly!"

They waved goodbye to Feliciano and quicky sat down in the booth, Ava and Francis piling into the booth on the left while Alfred and Gilbert took the right. Their reason for taking the right has been the same sense they entered junior high: the T.V at the bar was in perfect line of sight so they didn't have to look over anyone's head in order to see it.

They all picked up their menus and began looking through, even though they always ordered the same thing since they started going to Italiano. For Ava, it was a small plate of putanesca with a side salad. Gilbert and Alfred always split a large pizza, with Francis occasionally taking a slice on top of his usual order of risotto alla toscana.

"Don't you guys ever get tired of coming here?"

All of their heads turned to their waitress, her arms unhappily folded and her hip cocked ever so slightly to the side in annoyance. None of them ever took offense to her rude way of speaking or her actions since they learned long ago that's just how she acts.

"Ah, Chiara~ ¡Hola! ¿Estás practicando tu español?" Ava cried out happily in Spanish the moment she saw the fiery auburn.

"Niente affatto." Chiara replied back in her own mother tongue. "Now tell me what you fuckers want to order so I can leave already." Once again, Chiara's words didn't faze a single member of the group. They all placed their orders to which the fiesty waitress just clicked her tongue, mumbled something about being repetitive, and left.

"I will never understand your patience for that girl, Ava." Francis admitted with a heavy sigh. "I've tried for years to talk to her on civil terms and all I get is a simple 'fuck off, pervert bastard' and either a slap or a punch to the face."

Gilbert laughed loudly. "Is that before or after you tried to grab her ass?"

The Frenchman pouted and struck a rather dramatic pose in his seat. "Your words! The crush the very being of my soul! Why must you insist on slicing open my gentle heart, which only tries to reach out to others and-"

"This isn't Threatre Arts, Drama queen." Gilbert interrupted. Inwardly, Ava and Alfred thanked him for saving them from yet another one of Francis's long winded dramatic rants.

"...Fine. But I am serious about your tolerance for Chiara, mon ami." He rested his head on his hand and turned towards the brunette at his side. "Everyone in town knows about Chiara's sailor mouth and her temper is rather...well, you understand what I'm getting at, oui?"

Ava meerly chuckled. "Well, it's not any easy thing, but once you get past her harsh words and this front she puts up, Chiara's actually a sweet and caring girl!"

The three boys stared at their friend in confusion and awe. All was quiet.

"..."

"..."

"...Pfft..."

It was Gilbert, of course, who broke that silence with a loud laugh, soon followed by Alfred and Francis.

"Ahahahahahahahahah! N-nice one, Ava!"

"Mon Dieu, that's a good one!"

"Kesesesese! It hurts!"

The Spanish girl pushed out her lower lip, her hands placed on either side of her hips in anger. "I'm serious! Cut it out! Come on, guys! I'm dead serious about Chiara being a total sweetheart when she wants to be!"

"W-why can't she be nice when we want her to be though?" Gilbert offered up, causing the three to double over in laughter. A few customers looked at the friends in a funny way, but they turned back around when they realized that them being rowdy was just a normal occurance.

"Guys, come on! It's not funny!"

"Course it's not...It's fucking hilarious!"

"Ahahahha~!"

"Ohonhonhonhon~"

"Guys! Ugh! What am I going to do with you three..?"

Aaaand...end!

So? How was the first real chapter? Hopefully my writing has at least improved slightly since I started writing again...