The future's open wide beyond believing
To know why hope dies.
- Trading Yesterday
O-o-O-o-O
"Luckily, you don't appear to have concussion, Mr. Kirkland," the nurse said offhandedly, offering the Brit a faux kind smile. "I think you're safe to go back to class, but be careful. If you get dizzy, just tell your teacher what happened and come back here." Usually, students' parents were consulted when something like this happened, but a select few teachers were aware of Arthur's situation.
"Thanks," Arthur muttered, sliding off of the table and onto the floor. He looked around the room wearily. "Where's my bag?" he murmured, frowning suspiciously at the nurse.
She shrugged. "Don't look at me," she said. "That American boy carried it." She raised a brow, actually managing to look concerned. "You don't remember...?"
The Brit waved a hand nonchalantly. "Forget it," he mumbled. "I'm not dying or anything, so there's no need for concern," he drawled, attempting to repress a disbelieving scoff at the absolutely idiotic idea.
"Well, it's not my fault if you die," she insisted, holding up her hands.
"Not to worry," he mumbled uncaringly, sticking his hands in his pockets and giving her a look of nonchalance. "No one would really give a shit, so you'd be safe." He turned swiftly on his heel, missing the rueful look she had cast him, and sent her a small wave before shoving his hand back in his pocket. "Later."
"Take care, Mr. Kirkland..."
Arthur turned to her and rolled his eyes impatiently at her concern, but when he faced away from her again, his shoulders slumped slightly. Stupid, he thought. She doesn't really care. "Yeah, yeah," he whispered softly, and shuffled out of the room. The door clicked shut softly behind him and he leaned against it, closing his eyes as he felt a wave of lethargy come over him. He just wanted to be boarded up in his pathetic little room and sleep all of his troubles away. As if that would work, he thought cynically, brows contorting into a frown. Drinking sure doesn't...
"Ah! Arthur!"
The addressed boy's eyes flew open and he turned to his left, seeing Michelle smiling and waving at him. "Oh, Michelle," he breathed. At her befuddled look, he hastened to add, "Where the hell is my bag?" She frowned at him, still looking inquistive and concerned, but didn't breach the subject instantly. She forced a smile onto her face.
"Tsk, I see that blow to the head didn't knock any sense into you," she said, hands on her hips as she gave a long-suffering sigh. She received a grumpy scowl in response, and grinned apologetically. "Sorry, sorry. The American guy has it..." She turned back around, blinking in surprise at the empty hallway. "What the hell? He was right behind me a second ago!"
"Bleeding yank!" Arthur hissed angrily, dragging his hands out of his pockets and clenching his fists. "Fucking wanker! I'm gonna kill him," he stated furiously, casting a poisonous look to Michelle. "You go look for him the way you came, and I'll go the other way. He can not have my bag."
The girl raised a brow. "What do you have in there? You aren't being a naughty boy, are you, Artie?" She grinned a perverse grin that made Arthur both blush and thirst for blood.
"No, you bleeding cow," he muttered lowly, green eyes flashing. "My school books, filmscripts, notebook and camera are all in there though!"
Her eyes widened and she bit her lip worriedly. "Oh, right. Shit, Art, I'm sorry. I..."
"It's fine, whatever," he said abruptly, waving his hand dismissively. "Just go!" he ordered, and she nodded quickly and sprinted down the hallway. Scoffing in irritation, Arthur spun around, prepared to launch in the opposite direction like a firework gone wrong, only to immediately get a face full of leather. He stumbled back, only for his wrist to be caught. He sputtered angrily and pulled back, clutching his wrist to his chest and opening his mouth to shout a furious lecture, only for someone to beat him to the punch. Huh, that was a first.
"Sorry! It seems running into each other is a habit, huh?"
Arthur froze. The voice sounded suspiciously American. So obnoxious and-and arrogant, and... American.
"F-fuck off, you bleeding wanker," he muttered feebly. His throat felt dry. He swallowed thickly, lowering his gaze to stare at his mismatched neon laces. Keep your breathing level. In through the nose, out through the mouth... Don't panic. Just breathe... "Give me my fucking bag," he ordered, trying to force an imperious tone into his voice as he lunged forward for the badge-covered bag the stupid American was holding. He faltered when it was held out of his reach before clenching his fists even tighter than before and glowering furiously at the floor, trembling in what he hoped was rage.
"Jeez, you're so impolite! You could say please, ya know."
He is nothing like the person I once knew, and so... He can't be him! It's impossible. Honestly, Arthur, don't be so stupid... He swallowed and raised his gaze determinedly, and then faltered again immediately upon looking straight into piercing blue eyes. He blinked rapidly and then shook his head, as if attempting to abandon certain thoughts from seeping into his mind. "You are the one who is impolite! Stealing my bag like that!" he scoffed, folding his arms and looking at the wall to his right. Those eyes were just... "You tosser," he hissed, venom tainting his tone, "I could fucking report you for that. So, give it here," he ordered impatiently, holding out a hand stiffly.
"Whoa, hold up," the git said, sounding affronted. As if he had the right! "I didn't steal it! I held it whilst waiting for you to get outta the infirmary!" he insisted defensively.
"Whatever. I don't care. Give it back," Arthur demanded, a scowl firmly in place even though he wasn't looking into his face.
"Jeez... You're such a brat."
The Brit froze, blood turning cold, and for a moment time stopped. His eyes widened and he looked up sharply into annoyed blue eyes.
"Artieee! Why won't you play with me? Mummy said you have to play with me!"
The older boy whirled around angrily, emerald eyes blazing dangerously. "You're so annoying... I don't like your mother, alright? She isn't my mum! You aren't my brother!" he screamed furiously, and then turned on his heel and stormed off.
"B-but... Artie... I want to be your friend..."
Arthur stopped. Silence took over the area, and the only sound was that of the trees rustling in the gentle breeze. He swallowed nervously, hunching his shoulders and sticking his fists in his pockets. "Don't be stupid," he whispered. "A-as if I'd be friends with you. You're such a brat!"
He felt a huge bubble of rage inside of him burst. He slowly extracted his fists from his pockets and held them tightly at his eyes, glaring darkly. "What?" he hissed dangerously, eyes glinting as he drew back a fist slowly.
The American's brow furrowed and he held his hands up again, blinking in bewilderment when the smaller boy seemed to grow even more defensive about it. He lowered his hands and, frowning, he murmured, "You don't need to get so mad about it. Look, here, I'll give it back..." He held it out slowly, as if afraid the Brit would do something drastic.
As if sensing the taller boy's hesitation and care, Arthur seemed to become more wrathful. "I'm not a fucking animal," he snarled poisonously, lashing out to grab his bag. Despite his speed, the idiot managed to rival it and held it above his head just as his fingertips brushed over the fabric. Green eyes widened in shock, before narrowing in fury, and his cheeks heated up in embarrassment. "Give it back!"
"I don't think I should," the tosser replied obnoxiously, lips twitching into a smug smirk as he waved the bag out of Arthur's reach tauntingly. "You've been kinda rude to me, even after I went to the trouble of carryin' ya here and looking after your bag." He tilted his head and gave a mock pout, but his eyes were dancing in amusement. "My feelings are hurt," he said with a pathetic sniffle.
Arthur let a menacing growl slip past his lips, shoulders shaking as his fury grew. "Give. It. Back," he whispered threateningly.
"Hmm..." The bastard pretended to ponder for a moment, frowning seriously and holding his free hand to his chin, before grinning impishly. "No!" he decided, and then laughed merrily as he turned around and blasted down the empty hallway like a rocket.
The pale boy blanched for a moment, mouth agape and eyes wide and confused. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, wondering how the bloody fucking hell the guy ran so fast... and then shot off. He sped down the hallway after the twat, his Converse trainers squeaking against the dirty floors as his legs pumped furiously. "Stop, you fucking tosser!" he shouted after the wanker, who had the bleeding audacity to turn his head, stick his tongue out and give him the finger. Arthur growled again and decided to up his game. Sprinting time, he decided, steeling himself as he clenched his eyes shut and forced his legs to move faster and faster and-- "Give it back!"
The American's eyes widened, evidently shocked that the smaller boy had managed to catch up to him, before flashing a foxy grin and breathlessly whispered, "No way," and sped up himself.
Arthur gaped in astonishment, which soon gave way to aggravation. He let out a roar of annoyance and screamed angrily, "You fucking bastard! Give back my bag, you bleeding git!" I've got to catch up to him! he thought, willing himself to move quickly. He could feel the revurberations of his feet colliding with the hard floor as he swiftly sprinted, attempting to catch up with the fucking bastard. He looked up sharply as he sucked in a breath, wanting to know how far ahead the twat was - and his eyes widened as he tried to hasten his pace. "Wait! Stop! You're going too fucking fast!"
"No way! I'm not slowing down! You can't trick me!"
Stupid bloody fucking childish moron! "No, you fucking idiot! You're going too fast! You won't be able to fucking turn!" he screamed in frustration, gritting his teeth when the stupid yank seemed to falter. "You idiot!" he yelled again, legs thrashing wildly as he dashed speedily, gasping for breath as he finally managed to reach the stupid American's pace, the pure boost of adrenaline coursing through his veins spurring him on--
"A-Artie! You're running way too fast! I can't keep up! Stop, Artie...!"
"No way, idiot! You can't stop! You can never stop or they'll catch you!"
"W-who? There's no one there, Artie! Please stop! Ah--! Ow! A-Artie...!"
"Alfred!"
Bang!
He heard a dull thud as he hit the ground, and he barely restrained himself from letting a moan of pain slip past his lips as he jostled his painful shoulder. I... I'd better not have a fucking concussion or something... he thought, feeling the bubbles of rage inside of him slowly die down, and instead were replaced with a strange lightheaded feeling that left him weary...
"Ah... Fuck..."
And then that bleeding voice sliced through his calm reverie once again and he tensed. He sucked in a sharp breath and kept his eyes clenched shut as his chest heaved up and down. He heard the American gasping for breath greedily above him, and felt the emissions of his warm breath dancing over his skin. Get off, he thought desperately, swallowing painfully. Get off. Get off of me. Get off of me!
"Are you okay?"
Get off, he wanted to say. But his mouth refused to open, and he wouldn't open his eyes. He wouldn't... couldn't face those stupid, innocent, naive, unknowing blue eyes...
"H-hey, man, are you all right? Y-you ain't dead, are ya? Say somethin'!"
Arthur swallowed again, his throat constricting as he did so, and he wondered why he felt such a strong surge of guilt wash over him for worrying the boy... "G-get off of me," he gasped, inwardly cursing himself for not shouting or snapping and instead sounding more frantic than anything.
Thankfully, the brat was too oblivious to notice. He hastily scuttled away, hovering above Arthur for a brief moment before jumping to his feet. "Sorry!" he shouted quickly, and the Brit tried to loosen his overwrought muscles. "Here, lemme help..." he began, about to hold out his hand, but the smaller blond swiftly stood by himself, staggering back to pin himself to the wall when he saw the hand. His eyes flickered up to bewildered and shocked azure ones, and he instantly looked away.
His Converse trainers were now more interesting than they ever had been before, he thought as they stood in a very tense and very silent atmosphere. He could feel his tight fists shaking, and he only hoped the younger boy wouldn't notice. His pride was too strong for that.
His musings were cut short when his badge-covered black back was shoved into his range of sight. On instinct, his hands flew out to grab it and he speedily hugged it to his chest. With a chilling glare directed at the floor, he nodded stiffly, slung his bag over his shoulder, and turned to walk off, his trainers squeaking horrendously against the tiles.
"Hey! Wait!"
"Fuck off," he muttered under his breath, still not trusting his voice. He dug his nails into the strap over his shoulder and stared determinedly at the floor, tensing up more when he heard another pair of sneakers scuffing against the floor. His body jumped slightly when he felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned around sharply, effectively knocking the (now so big) hand off. "What are you doing?" he shouted angrily, crouching slightly as if ready to fight again.
The American prat frowned, his stupid blue eyes scanning Arthur as if he were some kind of lab specimen. The English boy only just managed to repress another growl, but he couldn't stop himself from clenching his fists even tighter so that his nails dug into his skin. "You saved me," the taller boy finally settled on saying, his tone almost a reluctant whisper. His eyes were moving swiftly, seemingly analysing the Brit's face. Arthur glared daggers but had to avert his gaze.
"Whatever," he said, turning his head to stare at a random wall. A very disgustingly off-white wall. He scowled at it. "You would've done the same for me."
"Exactly!" The declaration surprised both of them, and Arthur glanced back sharply at the American in astonishment whilst aforementioned American looked away embarrassedly, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. "I mean," he murmured, "It's just..." He looked up, gaze now determined and sparkling with resolve. Stupid... "A hero can't be in debt to someone, y'know?"
Arthur blinked once, uncomprehending. Twice. Thrice. He glowered witheringly, shoulders slumping from their tense hold and instead he just looked tired. "Don't patronise me," he threatened dryly, and then flipped his currently black fringe out of his eye as he turned around. "You don't owe me anything, Mr. Hero," he sneered, letting out a distasteful snort as he began walking down another hallway even though his next class was in the opposite direction.
"E-eh...? What? B-but I--"
"If you really want to do me a favour," Arthur muttered monotonously, quickly cutting off whatever pathetic retort the idiot was about to make. "Then stay away from me."
Dumbfounded and perplexed, the American boy just watched curiously as the Brit walked steadily away from him, his footsteps slowly fading into silence.
"Alfred!"
He blinked, eyes widening in realisation. W-wait a second... How the hell did that kid know my name...?
O-o-O-o-O
"Ah! So, you found your bag then," Michelle stated, letting out a huge sigh of relief as a cheerful grin overtook her face. "That's good. I'm glad. So," she said, tilting her head and frowning. "Did that guy actually try to steal it?" She gasped before Arthur could reply. "You didn't get into a fight, did you? Arthur, last time that happened--"
"I didn't get into a fight," he muttered wearily, massaging his temple with his free hand and clutching the strap of his bag with the other. "It was just a... misunderstanding," he explained, spitting out the last word as if it were poisonous.
"Oh," the tanned girl replied, sounding disbelieving. She leaned closer and raised a brow. "So, what happened then?" she asked, forehead pressed right against her friend's as she stared right into his wide emerald eyes. "It's been said you'd stormed into class twenty five minutes late cursing up a storm."
The Brit's eyes widened further before his impressively thick brows furrowed in anger. "Who did you hear this from?" he demanded, adopting a haughty tone as he folded his arms imperiously.
Michelle hesistated for a moment before drawing away from her friend's face and sitting back against the tree they were leaning against. "Francis," she admitted, tone absolutely carefree. Too carefree, in Arthur's opinion.
He sputtered irately, cheeks tinging pink as he scowled. "I got a bloody fucking detention for that as well," he grumbled moodily, looking a lot like a sulking child. "I've got to stay for an hour after school. What a fucking piss take..." He trailed off, as if Michelle's words had only just sunk in, and he turned to her, looking betrayed. "Wait... You... you believed him? Believed him? Him?"
"Normally, I wouldn't," she offered, hoping to douse the English boy's infamous temper, but to no avail. She sighed and slumped against the tree, lips puckered into a pout. "But it was so believable!" Taking on a French accent and attempting to deepen her voice, she loomed over Arthur and grinned a perverse grin as she said, "Oh, Artzur came strrolling into ze classroom, cursing in ees orreeble Engleesh language!" She gasped dramatically, putting a hand on her forehead as she withered to the ground, looking tormented. Arthur pursed his lips, trying to look annoyed when he was stifling a giggle at his friend's antics. "With ees big, bushy eyebrows glaring at us all - ah! My beautiful emotioons just came flowing out into manly rivers of tears--"
"You can stop now," Arthur gasped out, biting his lip hard to hold back a boisterous laugh.
Michelle sat up, beaming impishly and cackling to herself. She sat on her grass-stained knees and poked her friend's cheeks, unperturbed when the boy's semi-amused expression gave way to an irritated one. "Aww, Artie! You should seriously smile more often," she ordered sternly, but her eyes were gentle. Arthur blinked, frowning deeply in confusion. "You moron," she murmured with a sigh, still smiling, "I don't like it when you're sad."
Green eyes flew open wide and he froze, staring in disbelief at her jovial grin, all traces of anguish vanished. "I..." he began, but didn't know what he could say. He looked down at the grass, feeling his face warm up considerably. "D-don't be stupid," he finally whispered, and then cleared his throat, shaking his head of any treacherous thoughts. He shifted suddenly, moving to go through his bag.
Michelle cocked a brow, but yelped and flung herself backwards when something was shoved in her face. "E-eh...?" she began, laughing nervously. "You aren't trying to kill me, are you?" she enquired worriedly.
"Don't be stupid," he repeated, blush deepening as he thrust a small red bag at her again. "Take them. I don't want them. They're full of sugar," he stammered, eyes closed, brows furrowed and his nose turned up. But his better-than-thou act was easily eroded away when Michelle caught sight of his crimson face.
Trying to restrain a giggle, she grabbed the bag and tore it open, only to leer perversely once again and straddle her friend's lap. "Arthurrr," she chanted, smirking when the Brit's green eyes snapped open and his blush deepened even more. "I know the red ones are your favourites," she declared, grinning like a Cheshire cat as she waved a red skittle in front of her embarrassed friend's face. "So, just say, 'Please give me a sweet, sister,' and you can have one!" She beamed proudly, clueless of how the vein in her friend's forehead began throbbing more and more throughout her tirade.
"Michelle... You're just like that stupid fucking frog!"
O-o-O-o-O
"Y-you bastard," Michelle gasped, laughing giddily as she collapsed back onto the grass, her friend accompanying her as they collapsed into a panting, giggling mess. "You can't hit a girl!" she finally declared, tears of mirth in her eyes as she grinned at Arthur, who allowed himself a grin in response.
"You're a girl?" he joked, pretending to sound shocked and appalled, and earned a smack for his efforts. They both chuckled and let out a sigh at the same time, staring through the leaves of the tree at the unexpected sunshine peaking through the masses of disippating grey clouds.
"Oh, yeah," Michelle suddenly piped up, popping herself up on her elbow to beam down at her friend, who blinked up at her lethargically. "I was telling you about the poster," she explained at his vacant expression.
"Oh," he replied. "Right." Sighing, he folded his arms behind his head and looked up at the clouds, humming a random tune quietly. "Go ahead."
"You won't be so nonchalant when I tell you," she murmured with a childish pout, before it dissolved into excitement. "It's about a competition!" she enthused.
Silence.
"Oh."
More silence.
She'd obviously been expecting more of a reaction.
"Ugh! Don't you understand, Art?" she whined, flopping back down on the grass and glowering at her lost cause of a best friend, who mimicked her scowl. "It's a filmmaking competition!" she declared in exasperation, rolling her eyes skyward.
Arthur sucked in a breath, shooting up into a stiff sitting position immediately. The green eye that wasn't covered by his long black fringe was wide, and by his gaping mouth and sparkling eyes he was evidently attempting to hold back signs of excitement. Michelle knew him all too well though. "F-filmmaking?" he whispered, awe in his tone.
Michelle pursed her lips, grinning evilly. He's so cute when he's surprised! she thought. Ah... I can't believe he's older than me! He's like a little brother! "Yeah," she said quickly when she noticed her 'little brother's' excitement dissolving into suspicion. "You could so easily win, Art!" she exclaimed, and she meant it. She knew that her friend was exceptionally talented when it came to this. She grabbed her friend by the shoulders and sent him a stoney glare. "You can't pass this chance up, Arthur," she said strongly, and then her intimidating, demanding tone transformed into a bright, cheery one again. "It has no boundaries! Well, obviously within reason. I mean, you can't film a porno or a really gorey film that'll make people wanna throw up or--"
"Obviously!" the blond snapped, enthralled expression moulding into aggravation as he slapped Michelle's hands away from him. "You know I don't put that kind of stuff into my work," he muttered, a blush dusting his cheeks.
Michelle grinned sheepishly. "All right, all right, I'm sorry, okay?" she said, laughing softly when she received a 'you're forgiven' scowl and sniff. "So, anyways... yeah, the deadline is the end of this month, so--"
"Th-the end of this month?" Arthur squeaked, before coughing into a fist and fixing her with a scowl. "I can't..."
"Sure, you can!" the girl from Seychelles exclaimed strongly, glaring into his eyes determinedly. "You've gotta go for it, Art! It could be your big break, and I know you'll be great at it!" she cried, inwardly cheering at the hesitant expression on her friend's face. She was getting through to him! "Come ooon, Artie! You'll do good for sure!"
Arthur took a long, deep breath, and then exhaled slowly, before looking up and bestowing his friend with a weary smile. "It's well, not good."
O-o-O-o-O
Axis Powers Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.
Hello, dear readers! :)
This chapter was going to be a lot longer, but I'm afraid I had to cut it short. I'll make up for it with the next chapter hopefully, although I'm also working on Tengoku ni Ochiru, To The Stars and The Thing That Should Not Be, so... Oh, cor blimey... I once again question my sanity in regards to all the fics I'm attempting to accomplish at once. Well, whatever. Sorry for the lack of USxUK, but there will definitely be a lot of it later on! Although Arthur's obviously very bitter right now... Please bear with it! It will be explained more later, as well as the strange flashbacks... However, if you do desperately want something... then, I found this beautiful AMV and thought it related to this somewhat, so please watch it if you have the time: http: // www . youtube . com / watch?v = FhU5RtWIPSw
Just copy and paste it. Remember to remove the spaces. So bloody incon-fucking-venient. Anyway...
I'm not entirely sure what all the pairings in this will be, first off, but I do have a vague idea. Unfortunately, there are lots of love triangles. Or squares. Or hexagons. Okay, not hexagons. In any case, I shall not yet post the pairings as I wish to keep a hint of suspense, although you all obviously know that this is USxUK... b-but even so... Um... Yes. Well, I'm kind of torn with one thing though... and that's France. Bloody frog, always complicating things... Okay, I don't know if he should be with Seychelles (Michelle) or Canada. If he's paired with Seychelles, What's-His-Name will be with Ukraine probably. Or Prussia, depends how it goes. So, how's about you guys vote? Because I don't know. All I know is that this is USxUK with a side serving of up-coming major angst. Mmm, angst...
In any case, I would like to warn you about the angst in this fic after saying that. If you want a SPOILER, then this will most likely end up happy, but throughout the duration it'll be pretty damn depressing most likely. Stock up on tissues and happy pills... lol. I don't want to make you guys too sad, though, and so... um... I-I don't know... I'll... um... ah... I don't know what to offer as a consolation... Um. Well. Th-thank you for reading! ^///^;