Time for Al's POV. 3
Again I'm so so so sorry that Ivan is the bully here, I just thought it would make sense for America to fight with Russia, if you get what I was going for.
Oh and if anyone has any ideas they would like to be added, PM me! I plan to have fun with this story.
Alfred had watched his boyfriend walk away as he began running to his next class. It was a halfaways around the school, in the right wing. He hadn't expected exactly to be in such a small class; 4 kids. Antonio, Gilbert, Lukas, and Peter. Well, including himself; it was 5. Right? And it was funny having Arthur's little brother in the class as well; it was fun to push him around, and talk about Arthur. In other terms, Math I went by rather fast, no one did anything, Alfred just talked to Peter and Antonio while they worked on a packet. Next he would get to see his little Arthur in Physical Education.
The bell rung in mere seconds, all to be heard was doors opening and chairs sliding on the ground.
Now to find Arthur~!
The American's bright blue eyes shimmered with eagerness as he picked up his bag and ran down the hall to the gymnasium. He opened the door with a short breath, and went into the boys locker room. No sight of Arthur; some kids from class II and III were there, but still no Arthur. He began to worry; Arthur is never late. Should he tell the teacher? Possibly he was just late, its okay, he never liked gym anyway.
About half way through gym, Arthur was not there.
This was unusual. Thought it was the first day of school, still; Arthur would make good impressions for teachers and students. Maybe he was in the bathroom? Nurse? Oh, what if he was hurt? No, he would have texted or called him. But what if he couldn't move? No no, he had to stop thinking ahead.
"May I go to the bathroom?" Alfred shouted after finishing his line of reps.
He was excused.
Alfred grabbed his phone and opened the messaging app as soon as he could. "Artie where are you?"
This was surely a huge school, where could his poor Arthur be hiding? This could all be for nothing, but at least he can say he tried. After walking though dozens of rooms, classes in session; apologizing, running down halls; sweating... It had been at least 20 minutes.
There were only two halls left, in the whole school. First was A100+
Two bathrooms.
He checked the first one. "Arthur?" The name echoed on the walls. No response. He ducked, clasping his hands on his knees as he looked under each stall. No feet.
"Aw Artie, where are you dude? Next stall."
Alfred's shoes tapped along the corestall as he ran down to the next bathroom.
He swung the door open with a jolt, sweat rolling down his forehead. He stood still. Only two stalls were closed.
Shit, he would have to wait for the one to leave, see if someone stayed.
A short Chinese man with a ponytail took his sweet time washing his hands, and slowly making his way out.
"Hey, Artie?" Alfred said softly.
"Alfred... Is that you?" He said weakly, quiet.
"Open the door." Alfred said worried, in a panic. He grasped the metal handle on the hinge, pulling.
"I, cannot really move." He said cautiously.
At that moment, Alfred tightened his grip vastly, bashing his body into the door with force. It cracked. His heart was racing, adrenaline coarsing through him in fear. He again, pushed all his weight onto the door with a rough force. It slammed against the wall with a jolt.
Alfred almost dropped against the ground, his eyes opened wide, hands shaking. There laid Arthur Kirkland, limp and pale from crying. He had a large bruised gash on his head, his leg was numb. He had his hand clenched on his stomach, and he looked in pain.
Alfred fell to his knees, tripping and falling over himself until he fumbled his way to Arthur.
"Ar- Arthur Arthur Arthur A- Arthur are you, what happened!?" His voice steadied towards the end of his sentence.
"S- ome bloody vodka smelling git." He hushed in pain, tilting his head inwards.
Alfred placed his hand under Arthur's knees and over his shoulder, lifting him onto his lap.
"Your head," He winced as Arthur twitched in pain, Alfred tracing his finger over the bump of a gash.
"Don't touch me you fool." Arthur squirmed, retreating his arm to his stomach.
Alfred noticed this time, the indication of pain in his chest. He tugged Arthur's shirt up in a swift motion, and went still.
"Oh no fucking..." Alfred closed his eyes and grabbed Arthur closer to him, cradling his head into his chest.
"You're okay now." Alfred reassured him timidly, kissing his head in quick pecks.
The colossal bruise spread across Arthur's abdomen, a red gash surging through the middle. Fury surged through Alfred as he looked into the forest skies of Arthur's eyes.
"Who did this."
Arthur stammered, "I said, the giant Russian freak, he... It wasn't my fault, but, I didn't try to..."
Alfred shushed him with a passionate kiss, sealing the tube of air that Arthur was already lacking. He rolled his tongue over many times; and pulled back, teasing him into forward. He kept one more drag of the kiss, and pulled away, a small trail of saliva dropping from both their mouths.
"I want to leave, I hate it here already." Arthur cried in a childish tone.
'We're leaving. I'm gonna change out of my gym clothes, please, please Arthur; stay here." He said wiping his mouth.
The brit nodded, and stabled himself against the wall as Alfred dashed out of the bathrooms. When practically tripping back to the gymnasium, a few kids joked with Alfred.
"That was a long bathroom trip."
The American winked, and laughed as he ran into the changing locker room, He took no time at all to change, and ran without his shoes down the hall, hi backpack jingling with pens and loose change.
He skid a corner and slid into the same bathroom as before; into the corner, where he was relieved to find Artie safe and sound.
"Okay, give me your bag." He said, whilst taking it for himself.
He shoved Arthur's smaller bag inside his own, and swiftly picked up Arthur bridal style.
Both men blushed slightly, but Alfred carried on. Carrying Arthur out the door, he walked down the west wing. A door leading outside was slightly ajar, so Alfred kicked the door open with his foot, simply leaving the school grounds.
"You idiot, we can't just leave!"
"If I say we are, we are." Alfred dominated over Arthur, running down the frigid streets.
Alfred turned to his side and pulled off his jacket. He dropped it over Arthur; wrapping him snug.
The light poles dimmed under the dark skies, snowfall beginning to cover the sidewalks.
"I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you." Alfred beckoned, doubtfully pouting like a kid.
"Its not your bloody fault!" Arthur slapped against Alfred's chest, his hands balled into fists against Alfred's tight white shirt.
Looks like were skipping this school already. Maybe it would be easier to home school...
As Alfred thought to himself, they arrived a few streets more to a small cottage, a very modernly olden themed home. Arthur's home. Alfred stayed there often; so he knew where pretty much everything was. He balanced his lover on his leg as he reached under the headlamp for the door key. In success, he pushed the door open with a chuckle, closing it behind him with ease. He sprinted down the dark oak flooring and kicked open Arthur's flimsy door. The room was precisely small and tidy, with the sheets made, curtains dusted, clothes folded on a desk.
Arthur had already drifted to sleep by the time Alfred placed him into the silky warp of the sheets. He looked adorable sleeping!
Alfred smiled and ran a finger over the bruise once more, wincing at the face twitch of the British teen. Turning away, Alfred jogged down the stairs and into the modern white kitchen. He looked in a few cabinets, under the sink, and over the counters before wondering why there was no coffee machine. Surely Arthur drank coffee in the mornings? How can you go without a blissful sip of roasted coffee beans with cream and vanilla? Oh, and pumpkin spice!
Wait... A kettle, tea cups, fancy silverware and tiny utensils...
British drank tea, not coffee! God dammit Arthur! How does one brew tea?
Puzzled and majorly fatigued, Alfred grabbed two fine china cups and placed them on a small china plate. He whirled around, grabbing the kettle and boiling water. Turning to a cabinet and pulling a jasmine tea fragrance. He sighed, the whistle would probably wake Arthur up, then again; so would the smell.
Before he realized, the high pitched whistle of the kettle steamed and puffed, signaling Alfred to take it off. He poured the liquid into a tea pot and dropped the leaf of jasmine powder into the container, a rich tart smell emitting the room. Pushing the liquid around with a small teaspoon, he poured into the duo of cups, filling them with a shimmering cedar liquid. Strange, he successfully made tea? Man would Mattie be proud!
Adding a tiny sprinkle of sugar to his cup, Alfred placed the tea cups on the tray and carried it to the bedroom.
"Artie dude~!" He chirped, placing the tray down as he peered at Arthur, his face was buried in sheets as he grunted, reaching out for Alfred's hand.
He grabbed it, of course.
"Al, sugar?"
Sugar? Like, love?
Alfred bent down and cocked his head to the left, shifting his warm lips onto the moist lips of his lover. A whimper escaped Arthur's mouth as Alfred rubbed the surface of his tongue against the perk of Arthur's. He moaned, and pulled away, gasping for air.
"Sugar as in tea! You, you idiot!" Arthur screamed. "Baaaka!" His face was as red as a literal phonebooth, as Arthur swung his arms away from Alfred.