Copyrights: Characters© Hidekaz Himaruya, Story© Me
Summary: The characters of Hetalia face danger in the World W Academy. Ivan, a teacher gone mad starts attacking the students who stay after school the Friday before Spring Break. What will happen? AU USUK Character deaths
Chapter Two
Fingers were both around the gun now and crossed as Alfred sat, waiting for the door to open. The silhouette was still there standing ominously and unidentifiable turning to knob. Suddenly the door was flung open. The American's muscles tensed, and he whipped out his gun. Thankfully he managed to spot who it was before he got it out from under the desk. Quickly the freshman shoved it back in his bag and cocked his head and eyebrows, putting on an innocent grim.
"Mr. Vargas," an English accent rang out, "Feliciano is scared, and wont let us get any work done. We were wondering if we could work in here, so he could be with you and his brother." Arthur's hand was lingering on the brass knob, holding his door open. He looked at the teacher, and then his eyes fell on the American in front of him. The British teen blushed a bit when he saw that the younger blond was looking at him with a smile on his face.
Thunder erupted through the building, nothing odd about it this time, and Feliciano broke the pair's gazes by shoving into the room and running for his father. "Padreeeeeeeee!" he called as he ran with his arms extended. He was wearing perfect World W. Academy dress code except with a brown vest instead of tan and the silver pin showing he was in student council. His light red-auburn hair was parted ever so slightly different than his brother's, less centered and more to the left, and where his father's longest curl was a curl came from his head. His eyes, which matched his hair, were closed as he wailed.
"Feli~" Romaji sung, running for his son. His arms were extended in the same fashion.
Right before the two Italians hand their hands behind the each other, the third Italian popped up between them and thrust his hands in both of their faces. "PDA," Lovino droned. He then looked down at his brother who was wailing like a banshee and rolling on the floor. "Fratello? Eh! Look what you did to him you olive-loving son of a bitch!" the red-brown haired teen shouted, pointing an accusing finger at his father who sat on the ground, staring up at his son with a red hand print in the middle of his face.
The pair of darker haired Italians were bickering as Ludwig walked calmly into the room. His face became worried when he saw Feliciano crying on the ground. He went over to the Freshman and helped him up. "Are you okay Feli?" he asked, his voice drowned out by the pair bickering beside him to all but the youngest Italian.
The smaller teen sniffled. "S-si..." he whimpered quietly.
Alfred watched them with interest then turned to Arthur. "When are those two going to hook up?They've been dancing around each other for forever," he commented with his head and eyebrows still cocked slightly.
The younger teen looked so cute in the other's eyes he couldn't help but stare. A light blush was still on his face and it grew brighter when the Freshman asked if he was okay. Arthur shook his head and smiled, one with warmth glowing at the edges, "Yeah, sorry, I just spaced out for a bit." He was about to say something else, but Kiku prodded him lightly in the back.
Kiku was a Sophomore as well. He wore slightly long straight black hair, every bit of it cut even and lined up perfectly with the surrounding hairs. It was perfect symmetry. His eyes were averted to the floor and shadowed by his hair to where it looked like they had a mini gradient coming from black to a light mocha. He wore the exact World W Academy dress code excluding his pin. "Ah, gomen, but do you think that I could get into the classroom?" he asked in a soft voice.
"Oh right, of course," the Student Council President said, blushing even more. He went to the seat next to Alfred's and turned it, so it could face other desks that the members could sit in, and his back would be to his adoration.
Kiku took the seat that Arthur's faced and turned it to face his. He pulled out a note book and a pen to scratch down what they discussed; he was Secretary after all.
"Hey Kiku," the blond Freshman grinned at him.
"Hello Alfred," The Japanese teen bowed his head slightly, a small smile on his features.
Arthur felt a tick of annoyance at that. Kiku's face was always neutral as were his opinions. Why was he smiling at Alfred? He grit his teeth for a moment and left out a harsh sigh. "Ludwig, Feliciano do you mind? We have work that needs to be done and I would prefer that it were done soon."
The dark-haired Sophomore across from him picked up on his annoyance and looked down at his note pad and had the pen ready to write down whatever was said, the neutral expression returning. The other two came over and sat down. Suddenly the door closed as if on it's own at the same time as the ringing of thunder.
Alfred yelped and threw his arms around the closest thing which happened to be Arthur. The Sophomore sat there with his face and eyes facing down at the desk. He had just been looking over papers and found the American's arms around him. Blush flared on his cheeks, and he smiled slightly. "Um Alfred?" he forced his voice to stay calm, but ended up sounding annoyed. "What are you doing?"
At the same time Sadiq burst out in laughter. "Pussy's afraid of lightning!" the Turkish teen chuckled a few more times before he saw that Heracles was awake and staring at him. "What?" he asked with a harshness tinging his tone.
"Sorry to correct you—actually I'm not—but I think you mean 'Pussy's afraid of thund-'" The Greek student found himself cut off with a shout of "Fuck you!" from the Turk.
"Ah, sorry!" Alfred sat back in his seat, ignoring the quarreling pair. "The door closed on it's own and freaked me out."
"Eh? Closed on it's own, but I closed it," A voice called from beside the American.
He screamed and turned to face his Canadian step-brother Matthew wore the purple plaid pants of the school and the white button down shirt, like Alfred though he wore a white sweater vest, but it couldn't be seen since the younger always wore a red and white pull-over hoodie with the maple leaf from the Canadian flag on the pocket. Matthew never got in trouble for it though. He wasn't doing it to be troublesome or look cool. He was doing it to express his nationality. His eyes weren't grey in the least, they were blue tinged with violet. The step-brothers had the same hair color, but the younger one—who had only managed to be a Freshman this year because his grades were so good—had longer, slightly wavy hair that was parted in the middle of his head rather than being parted on the side. Where his brother had a cowlick, the Canadian had a long, curl that formed a loop. He had glasses as well, but they were slightly larger and more rounded. He also, childishly, carried a polar bear backpack. What? His mom bought his stuff and she seemed convinced that the younger brother was about seven years younger rather than one. But nonetheless he always used it, he even stuck his Student Council pin on it. Besides with the more childish features and sweater it would be pretty hard not to tell the brothers apart.
"Mattie! When'd you get here bro?" Alfred asked, grinning at his younger look alike.
"Eh? When'd I get here? Just now... When the door closed... Thanks for noticing asshole," he added sarcastically, and rather inaudibly, to the end. The elder step brother didn't hear past the "Just now" and practically ignored him the whole time he was talking so he just grinned and nodded. The younger brother got the desk that was once in front of Arthur's and turned it around to face the other.
"If you say so," the American shrugged after a moment.
The Student Council started working, ignoring the conversations around them, well most of them did. Whenever Alfred spoke Arthur would do his best to listen to both conversations.
Sadiq and Heracles were fighting again. Romaji walked over to them. "Hey guys come one. Why can't we all just be friends huh?" his response was the two Juniors standing up. "That's better. Now get over here and lets have a group hug." They both ran for him and slid under his outstretched arms They stood up and each smacked him in a pressure point on his shoulders. They might get along like fire and ice, but they flow like a raging river escaping the bounds of a dam—powerful and unstoppable—when both provoked by the same thing.
"Oi, what do you two wankers think you're doing?" Arthur snapped at the pair that stood side by side in the same positions.
"Chill Artie they do shit like that every day. Romaji's used to it," the second youngest blond waved dismissively at him.
"Alfred that could be considered assault. It's illegal," the British teen pointed out.
"Come on quit being lame," Alfred frowned.
"I'm not being lame! I'm being just," the Brit nodded to punctuate his words. His head was held slightly higher with a slight snobbish air seeming to form around him.
The younger blond sat and stared at him a moment with his head cocked ever so slightly and a frown on his face before he repeated, "Quit being lame Artie."
The other teen sighed. "Fine whatever, but when you all get charged for assault when you get out of here, don't come crying to me," Arthur scowled.
"But Anglais, what if it were l'objet de votre affection?" Francis called from his place in the room, a smirk on his lips.
"Quit using that disgusting language around me you twat," Arthur scowled at his step-brother.
"I was saying that what if it were our American accomplice? What if he got arrested?" the French teen called louder.
"I wouldn't do anything different then if it were with you Frog," the English teen replied haughtily.
Alfred frowned at him. "But you hate Francy-pants over there," he stated.
"And?" the Briton asked, waiting for more, turning in his seat to face the younger blond.
"Does that mean you hate me too?" The American teen asked, pouting. The pout turned more sad looking and childish when Arthur looked at him.
The Brit's face practically exploded with blush. He other just looked so sad and cute. He slid his vision to the back of the younger blond's chair. "No Alfred," the older blond sighed.
Alfred grinned widely, shiny, white teeth showing and chuckled; his grey-sky eyes shut, and his face tilted down ever-so-slightly with his shoulders raised a bit as well. "Who am I kidding? No one could hate a hero like me," he smiled at the older blond with his eyes open once more.
The Brit stared at him for a moment, before turning back to his fellow Student Council members, blushing a little more than before. "Stupid git..." he muttered.
The American didn't hear the other. He kept grinning and looked out the tinted glass in the door. Something was off. It was a little darker than before. The youngest blond cocked his head and eyebrows. The corners of his mouth dipped down ever-so-slightly. He stared a moment longer before curiosity took his hand and helped him from the chair. It silently lead him to the door. The knob was perfectly still as the Freshman reached for it.
Just before his hand could come in contact with the cold brass, it turned in a flash, and the door was slammed open. Alfred leaped back a couple feet to avoid having the wood crash into him.
In the doorway stooped a figure, almost too tall for the archway where the door typically rested. The lights in the hall were all shut off, saving power since the school would be emptied soon. The usual detention students were used to this, but it seemed twice as dark now with the storm thundering overhead. The figure brought his hand, which contained a large bottle, back, chugged, and let the stench of alcohol hit the students that were within the room. Once the bottle was lowered it was raised once more and chunked at the far wall, crashing against the glass of a poor window who happened to be in the path of the sailing liquor, shattering the bottle and cracking the window. A loud burp echoed through the room and the figure stepped in.
It was the AP World History teacher, Mr. Braginski. He wore a tan overcoat that was made out of rainproof material. It rested atop a yellow turtleneck sweater. He was wearing a pink scarf that the Russian always seemed to keep upon him; no one had ever seen him even get close to removing it. It was as if the scarf was one with him.((I should be shot for that line... feel free to do so...)) He wore a pair of dark brown dress pants with matching shoes underneath. In the teacher's hand was something that made all of the student's stomachs turn. In his hand was a gun. A gun which had raised itself to Alfred's head.
The teacher kept it pointed to the blond's head until he maneuvered him against the wall next to the door, where he lowered the gun to the teen's heart. "Tell her I miss her and love her," he slurred drunkenly into his ear. The Freshman's eyes were wide as the teacher pulled back so he could stare into the teen's eyes as he died. The American student kept his sky-grey eyes locked on the violent violet eyes of the teacher with immense fear and confusion. Before his could ask what the other was talking about a loud bang, echoed through the room.
Fiery: I've edited the beginning at least 20 times and never the end so excuse mistakes and fails there. I've had this typed for months then gave up on editing the entire chapter.