Disclaimer:I do not own Hetalia, Paul Reed Smith Guitars, Ibanez guitars, 'Single Ladies'-Beyonce, Titanic, any of the mentioned music artists, The Lion King, or Kingdom Hearts.
Chapter 6: You Only Hold Me Up Like This 'Cause You Don't Know Who I Really Am
Francis. He was losing Arthur to Francis.
Angrily, Alfred Franklin Jones shoved his fists in his pockets and stomped through his city. His blonde locks were tucked under his hoodie, which hid most of his face. For once, he wasn't parading with his usual confident swagger. It was more of a moody, anti-social trudge that brisk afternoon.
He left Feliks and Toris back at Feli's party. He couldn't stand to be with them when they were happy, lest his attitude spoil their mood. Especially after he saw…Ugh. His thoughts swirled like a raging tornado, blocking out the whispers of conversation surrounding him.
What did the frenchie have that he didn't? Their hair was the same color…kind of. So what if Francis had a sexy-ass ponytail? It made him look like a chick! Alfred had a charming boyish mop, like a prince out of a fairytale. His eyes were lighter too. Francis's irises were the color of the sea: mysterious, cold, and deceptive. Alfred's eyes were made of the sky: clear, deep, and friendly. He was definitely more attractive.
How could Arthur just…just kiss Francis out of the blue? He didn't tell Alfred anything about crushing on the guy! They were best friends! Best friends told each other every-.
It was the stubble.
The little flecks of blonde on his step-cousin's chin. That's what drew Arthur to him. It was what pulled in all the girls. They all loved Francis's chin. Where was he supposed to get a mini-beard from? Every time he grew even a centimeter of facial hair, someone would sneak into his room at night and shave it all off. (He strongly suspected Matthew of slipping sleep pills in his water, but he had no proof.)
But Alfred was a fifteen year old Leonardo DiCaprio damn it! He was the Jack to Arthur's Rose! (He pointedly ignored the fact that his character died and left Rose to find a new husband.)
They were best friends. Tino came in, and it was the three of them. Okay, so maybe it was more Al and Tino, but they included Arthur when it was allowed. The plan was going smoothly, until Bonnefoy and his posse came in and messed everything up.
Not to mention the fact that Arthur was friends with Beilschmidt. Now Alfred knew the Brit had better taste than that. So the girl, the pianist and Mattie were okay. But Romano and the Bad Touch Trio? What was he thinking? That group was flippin' notorious in Hetalia High! They were criminals! They were banned from all sports teams, except for Antonio. Carriedo could play soccer only if he swore to lead their team to the championships.
He could only imagine what they were doing to Arthur. They could have forced him to kiss Francis. Or maybe they made Arthur their slave. Alfred had to save him. Tino would un-.
'You know, I know you don't love-,'
"I can't talk right now."
"You sound frustrated. Is everything okay?"
"I just need some space Tino."
"What did I tell you to call me?"
"I can't talk right now 'Lil T'."
"Aight homie. Wat's goin' down up in F.V's G-spot?"
"…I grew up talkin' street and I cannot understand what the hell you just said."
"I be yellin: What's shaking up F.V's crib?"
The teen shook as tendrils of amusement tickled him. Stifled chuckles left in spurts as he struggled to respond.
"I spent years watching movies and listening to music trying to learn how you Americans speak, and this is how you repay me?"
"You're a dumbass Tino."
"You're laughing Al. I can tell."
The American covered his mouth to hide a smile. The teen always knew how to cheer Al up when he was feeling down. Maybe that's why they were so close.
"Go to Ross park dude. I need to talk to you there. Can you get there quick?"
"Fo shizzle my nizzle."
"Please, just stop trying dude."
He ended the call with a swipe of his finger, and then set off towards his new destination.
Tino wasn't Arthur. Tino would never be Arthur. He was freakin' hilarious when he pretended to be a rapper, especially those late night impersonations of Lil Wayne, but he wasn't as funny as Arthur when the Brit screwed up jokes and told the punch-line wrong.
…God, he needed to stop listening to Katy Perry.
As if to spite him, an advertisement for the pop star's new movie was stuck to a billboard in front of me.
"I bet you could get anyone to fall for you. You just have to stand there, look pretty and sing your heart out you-you…you Californian Barbie doll."
She just stared down at him, smile painted on her face. He frowned, eyes narrowing.
"I bet I could sing better than you. Then Arthur would like me. He'd realize I'm a much better singer than Francis could ever be and fall for my charming personality, stunning good looks, and smooth voice. Then he'd let me carry him away from evil Franny. Like a real hero. Yeah, that'll work!"
To prove his point, the boy burst into the chorus of California Gurls, jumping around and dancing all over the pavement. There was no one there. He was already in the quieter part of town. So he could let his angst throw him into the abyss of craziness. He sang and pranced like a mad man, expecting no one to actually hear him.
This is why the applause startled him out of his wits. He screamed-grunted in a manly fashion-out of surprise, heart whipping his chest.
"Alfred Franklin Jones everybody! Please, no flash photography or obnoxious requests. We are running on a tight schedule."
Alfred whipped around to find a slim teenage boy laughing at him. His violets were filled with mirth. Judging by the way his nose crinkled, the male was shielding a laugh behind his pale hand.
"Sup Tino?"
The Finnish boy grinned, radiating goodwill and joy.
"Good Afternoon to you too Al." He laughed. Tino's soft laugh never failed to put those around him at ease. No wonder Berwald liked him so much. The Swede needed all the ease he could get. You could tell just by looking at his face.
…No offense to Berwald of course.
"Nice polo." Alfred decided to hold off on the main topic for the park. Tino looked the white garment over with a small smile.
"Thanks. Ber-Bear got it for me."
The jock snorted.
"What?"
"Nothing. Just can't believe you can go from saying 'Fo shizzle my nizzle' to 'Ber-Bear'."
The smaller brushed dirt off his cargo shorts then gave Alfred a wink.
"Just keeping it real."
"I don't know how Berwald puts up with you." The blonde ruffled the other's lighter hair, knowing how much time he spent on it every day.
"Jerk."
"So how are the in-laws?'
"Who? Norge and Jesper?"
Al rolled his eyes.
"Who else?"
"Nothing new. Senior year's driving Jes up the wall and Norge has everything under control. But, you did not want to talk about them now did you?"
By this time, they had reached the park. Tino's eyes turned serious and sympathetic as the jock began to tell his story.
-Someone Better Make a Comeback-
No matter how hard they tried, they couldn't make Arthur forget his troubles. The Bad Touch Trio danced to Single Ladies and that didn't crack a laugh out of the blonde. He was quiet during their walk down the street. (Apparently, HQ was in the basement of the Beilschmidt's massive mansion. Why were all of them freakin' rich?) And he remained silent throughout the party, cup of ginger ale in his hand. Despite their constant prodding to loosen up, claiming that he was at home and should act as such, he stayed stiff.
Gingerly, Romano slid up to him. When the Brit didn't respond, he kicked the cup out his hand, sending it spinning through the air.
"Tell me a story SB."
"SB?" The freshman gave Matthew an exasperated look.
"Skinny Bitch. Tell me a story Kirkland. One about your parents. We know all the dirt on everyone's parents but yours."
The blonde didn't immediately answer, so he settled for poking him in the face with socked feet, adding an insult with each nudge.
"Whore. Bitch. Bastard. Teppista. Turd. Loser. Fuckface. Motherfucker. Fothermucker. Screw-up. Emo pr-."
"My Dad was a rock guitarist once."
The air went still. No one spoke for a few seconds, all surprised to hear Arthur speak after an entire hour of silence. Romano, glad with what he started, pressed for more.
"You've never told me about your father. What was he like? Was he a dick? Is that why you don't talk about him?"
"No. From what I remember, he was a total gentleman."
"A gentleman that was a rock guitarist," Gil nodded approvingly. "Awesome."
"I used to love watching him teach Draco. I was too young to learn then. I must have been five or six. I thought that if I watched, I would remember how to play the chords. When I was big enough to carry the guitar, I would be just as good as he was. By the time I could carry it properly, he was bedridden. He persuaded Draco to teach me though. I would learn right by his side, day after day. He would occasionally tell us stories of his days in a band back in London and the crazy things his friends did at parties. He was straight edge, while the others got completely smashed."
"That's hardcore." Antonio murmured admiringly. Elizaveta's brow furrowed.
"But, if he were straight edge, what could he be bedridden w-?"
"Lung cancer. He didn't smoke, but his friends did. And he went to visit often."
"I-I'm so sorry."
He waved her off.
"It's fine. He said that he already lived to see all five of his kids reach ten years. After he made each of us promise live our lives to the fullest, and stay far away from smokers, he didn't really have any regrets."
'But Draco never kept his promise,'
Once again, the silence swept them, only this time it was strained due to the pressing feeling of angst surrounding the Brit.
"You can play an electric guitar right?" Antonio asked finally.
"Yeah. Why?"
A grin of pure mischief spread across the Spaniard's face. He winked five times at Francis, who gave a small nod in reply. In a flash of motion, Bonnefoy held Gilbert down while Antonio ran out of the room. Gil's face became paler as his expression became one of fear.
"Oh no! You guys wouldn't! Gilliana will kill me!"
"Who's Gilliana?"
"His sister." Romano replied, a smirk playing up his features.
He didn't smile back. Honestly, he was emotionally drained. The Alfred incident left him numb, with a mild sense of misery. But talking about his dead father sent him spiraling into depression. Honestly, all he wanted to do was go home, curl up with his headphones, and drown in music. Just like he had when he was 10. Nothing could cheer him up. Not even the beautiful guitar in front of him.
In awe, he looked over the white instrument, taking in the silver strings and bleeding heart painted on the body.
It couldn't cheer him up. But it sure as hell could distract him.
"A beautiful Paul Reed Smith SE Santana, airbrushed custom guitar, nicknamed 'White Mage'. Can you play it?"
"Yes. Hand it over."
A chill ran over Arthur as he ran his fingertips over the body. He had never touched a PRS before. While he remained with his father's choice in the Ibanez company, he was also interested in others. He heard much praise about Paul Reed Smith guitars. Finally getting the chance to use one was thrilling.
He played a bit, looking for any signs that the instrument needed tuning. When he was content, he began to jump into a medley.
"Famous Last Words by My Chemical Romance."
Elizaveta recognized the song immediately. Giving her a small smile, he switched the song. It took a minute or two, but Romano and Antonio recognized it as the Spongebob theme. The third came easily to Gilbert.
"Blitzkrieg Bop by The Ramones."
"She Will Be Loved by Maroon Five," Matthew successfully guessed the next. Francis recognized the fifth as a song from The Fray, and then Roderich remembered the tune of Dirty Little Secret from a time when Elizaveta would play it on repeat whenever she could.
The last one stumped all. Pleased with this fact, Arthur played the simple chords with a new energy. He was two minutes into the song when a voice shot from the doorway.
"London Calling by The Clash."
His fingers paused as he shot a glance at who guessed the title correctly.
Leaning against the door with an expression of pure boredom, was the female version of Gilbert.
Her skin was just as pale, clashing against the black tank top she woren. Her eyes were as vibrant, and a stunning rouge. Her waist length white hair was tamed under a baseball cap. She seemed boyish with the way she twisted the hat around. Not to mention the basketball shorts and sneakers she adorned. Her outfit was baggy, hiding any curves she may have had.
"Those are my clothes!" Gilbert exclaimed.
"That's my guitar. In the hands of a stranger."
"My name's Arthur."
"Gilliana." The woman said shortly. She fixed her brother with a look, making the boy wilt.
"Francis and Antonio did it." He said quickly. She raised an eyebrow.
"Mein liebling Antonio? Never. Francis maybe."
"Ah, you still have not forgiven me for the panty raid."
She glared at the blonde.
"Would you forgive someone who stole your underwear, then had the audacity to wear and run around your house singing about the Moulin Rouge?"
"I was thirteen."
"You were stupid."
Huffing, she snatched her guitar from Arthur.
"You ain't bad kid. I'll see if I can get you a gig."
Gilliana had a certain fury in her eyes as she turned away. He was relieved to realize it was directed towards Francis instead of him. When the Frenchman was on the ground, begging for mercy, she left. She strutted, like a proud cat coming back from a successful mouse hunt. A few seconds after she disappeared, they all heard her stomp her feet on the floor above them. Franny was the only one that twitched.
"I like your sister." Arthur stated.
"She's a trip. She can hardly get along with our parents. 'Specially Dad." The albino muttered.
At the mention of a parental figure, Arthur's mood dropped once more.
"I need to go guys. I'm really tired. Thanks for the party Gil." He sighed. He scooped up his sports bag and phone, ready to run home and collapse.
After performing a series of complicated goodbye hugs, Francis was the only one who blocked his path. As they pulled into a brace, the taller whispered,
"Lost lambs are always welcomed back home. Even if you don't choose us, we'll forgive."
Too tired to decipher this cryptic message, he pushed past the male.
His walk home was soundless. It was just him and his thoughts. He had no idea how he was going to explain himself to Alfred.
'It was a spur-of-the-moment thing,' He could say. It was the truth, but the American probably wouldn't buy that. The Arthur he knew didn't do things on impulse. Old Arthur was always calculative.
What happened to Old Arthur? He didn't disappear. New Arthur still had a majority of his habits. Perhaps the old and new blended together to create what he was. When did New Arthur appear in the first place? Was it when he agreed to the tattoo? Or when he first listened to My Chemical Romance? Perhaps it was all the way back when he first willingly stayed with the Sophomore Slumps.
He didn't regret that. No matter how much the group didn't fit Old Arthur, he wouldn't regret it. They changed him, For better or for worse, he didn't know. But they made him happy. They brought out New Arthur. Or they unleashed what that they saw under the gentleman. The teen that just wanted to have close friends instead of a monarchy of popular kids that backstabbed every chance they got. Maybe there wasn't an old or new Arthur. New Arthur could just be the true Arthur. The version of himself that he kept under wraps.
But self-analysis would have to wait. With a sigh, green eyes warily gazed at the figure dawdling around his front steps.
"Alfred."
The figure turned towards the sound. When he peered into serious blue eyes, the Brit winced. There was the feeling again; the sensation that felt as if his gut was housing millions of small birds. It came out only when the American was around. He hated it, especially the way it spread rapidly, immobilizing him and making his mouth dry.
"We need to talk." It took a second for him to snap out of his reverie. He was in danger territory. There was no time to think about brushing away the hair in Alfred's face and staring into his…The Brit cleared his throat.
"I agree."
Alfred sat on the top step, patting the space beside him to invite the teen to join him. After a second or two of silence, the jock faced him.
"What's up with you lately Arthur?"
"Nothing."
"Why-?"
"It's not what it looked like." Ooh, cliché much? Alfred's eyebrow quirked.
"What was it?"
"Nothing."
"Everything's nothing all of sudden. Why don't you just talk to me about it?"
This comment stirred up bitter emotions. Suddenly, all his pent up confusion and frustration shoved its way out of his system. He felt he was directing it all at the wrong person, but controlling it was out of the question.
"Well sorry Alfred," The Brit said sarcastically. "I figured you would be much too busy for me. You know, sports and school really takes friendship time away. Not to mention the fact that you have a boyfriend. A boyfriend that you forgot to tell me about."
"Is that why you've been hanging out with Gilbert and Francis?"
"I hang out with them because I want to. Why do you hang out with Tino and Vash?"
"Don't direct the conversation. We're talking about you now, not me."
"Oh really? Finally, a discussion about me. I haven't been a subject of interest for a while Al."
Arthur's voice was pure venom. His depression was anger now, and Alfred was only making it worse. That stupid throbbing in his chest and gut was all his fault, damn it! Why did Arthur have to deal with it?
The jock's patience was also wearing thin. He didn't hide malevolence as he responded,
"Well we're talking about you now. You've been avoiding me lately Arthur! You ditched me and the guys for Francis! And you randomly started wearing new clothes! And you got highlights! What happened dude? We were cool. We used to run the school. Remember last year when we convinced Mrs. Carey to let us monitor her Junior class? We got major street cred. No one messes with us."
The malice was quick to break down. Alfred's voice got a bit softer as he brought up old memories. Arthur almost gave in, but his fury beat all urges.
"Yes. We. As in, me, you, and your entire sport team. And 'Used to'. As in, we did such things before. But not now."
"Why not?" Oh how Arthur despised the way those narrowed blue eyes made him want to barf butterflies.
"Are you too busy with those guys?"
"What's wrong with those guys?" The Brit asked defensively. Alfred's tone was quick to turn nonchalant.
"Nothing. Except for the fact that they're all practically delinquents."
"Delinquents? This is Elizaveta we're talking about!"
"So? She's no better. She almost killed Toris with a frying pan. She's crazy."
"Do not insult her. She's better than half the arses in this school."
"Am I one of those 'arses'?"
"No. But you're getting there. Quit acting like such a git and maybe there'll be hope for you."
"Seriously! What's your problem dude?"
"Things have changed." The punk said irritably.
Al ran a hand through his hair. A sign that he was stressed. The teen fixed Arthur with a confused, hurt look. The Brit looked away, glaring at the black road.
"What's changed besides you?"
"Your relationship status. And you didn't exactly warn me before it did."
The jock didn't reply.
"Your dating Tino now Al. And I don't think you should be spending all your free time with me if you are. But that's alright. I have my own friends now. I can go to parties and things with them. I don't have to rely on your popularity anymore."
He offered his friend a small, sorrowful smile.
"I probably can't win out against Tino anyway. I…I hope you guys have fun together."
Before the taller can say a word, Arthur rushed inside. Head throbbing, he quickly entered his room, pulled on his headphones, and went into the fetal position on his bed, wiping away any tears that threatened to escape.
It was just a crush. He would get over it. Right?
-S.S.C.O.T.Y-
"Hey Tino. You know our plan? It isn't really working. Can we talk about it?"
"What plan?"
Elizaveta and Matthew stepped out of the shadows. The boy froze. After seeing Elizaveta's fierce glare, he did what years of sports taught him to do: He bolted down the street.
The girl immediately chased after him, hollering bloody murder. With a small jingle, an item fell out of her hands. The Canadian sighed as she watched her run after his brother. Al always managed to snatch attention. Matt would stay in the shadows. He stooped down to pick up the reason they went to Arthur's house in the first place.
A pair of dog tags.
He looked from Arthur's house to the accessory, and pocketed the object, whistling as he walked to his own residence.
It wasn't his job to hand off the dog tags.
-~S.S.C.O.T.Y~-
When he got out of the fetal position and pulled off his headphones, the Kirkland house was unusually quiet. Curious, Arthur got up and made his way to the bathroom to wash off any trace of tears. When he was finished and roamed the halls with no confrontation, he grew slightly concerned. The teen began peering within each room, finding no one each time.
Arthur was growing hysterical when he heard his mother singing off-key in her room.
"Where are your children?"
She jumped.
"Oh, Arthur. You haven't heard? Draco found out that the hot water and heat wasn't working so he left."
"Just packed up and dusted? Because he didn't want to spend a night in the cold?"
The red head nodded, folding a shirt and placing it in her white duffel bag.
"Jon was next. He and Mac are staying at their friend Jesse's house for the night. Then Peter went to stay with the Beckett's."
"All of that bollocks because they don't want to shower in cold water?"
"Who in their right minds would want to stay in a house with no heating in the middle of one of the coldest Novembers of the century?"
He eyed her duffel bag maliciously.
"You're leaving as well?"
"I'm going across the street to Juliet's house. You should come. You, Alfred, and Matthew can have a sleepover or whatever you lads call it."
'Twas a good thing the woman had her back turned to Arthur. He didn't want her to see his deep scowl.
"I'm fine here."
"You know I can't leave you in the house by yourself."
"I…I was actually planning to go visit a friend."
At least now he was. Cripes he was good at this lying business.
"At 7 PM?"
"I was just going to catch a quick movie and come back before curfew. I'm sure he won't mind if I stay at his house. He has tons of friends do that all the time anyway."
"Are you sure you-?"
"I'll go pack now."
Arthur rushed out. He took all his sports items from that day and carelessly flung them aside. For once, he didn't care about neatness. He just had to get out of that house. He packed a shirt, a fresh pair of socks, a pair of sweatpants, a copy of The Prisoner of Azkaban, and his bathroom necessities to display to his mother for approval before heading out.
Arthur ran out of his block before any of the neighbors could peer out their window and spot him.
He didn't even know where he was going. But even a park bench seemed to be a better option than the Jones' house. Perhaps he could stay at Starbucks, simply drinking coffee till the early hours of the morning?
Cursing, he kicked an empty soda bottle into the road.
His family was a bunch of wimps. Cold showers weren't that bad. And they could battle the heat using blankets. Draco probably just wanted an excuse to get out of the house. The rest followed in his stupid example. Like a bunch of sheep.
Lost lambs are always welcomed back home. Even if you don't choose us, we'll forgive.
Lost lambs, huh? What did the frog mean by that? He wasn't calling Arthur a lamb. He wouldn't use such a derogatory term. He knew Arthur would kick his arse to hell and back. Was he quoting the bible? Despite being Protestant, Arthur didn't read it too often. And where was this home he spoke of?
When he finally found a park bench empty of litter and bird waste, he was frozen through his jeans and starving. He really should've grabbed more than two dollars. Suddenly, the Starbucks idea didn't seem very irrational. He didn't like coffee, but he could bear drinking it if it kept him warm. Of course, caffeinated tea would be his first choice.
He could sneak back into his own house in an hour (when he was sure his mom wouldn't come back) and boil some tea the old fashioned way over the fireplace. Thinking about ways he could break in through the back, he wrapped his hands around his bare arms and settled himself with Harry Potter for the coldest hour of his life.
-S.S.C.O.T.Y-
Gilbert Beilschmidt was walking home from a Starbucks meeting with an old friend, so content with their chat that he actually skipped down the streets. Humming along to the Kelly Clarkson song blasting through his headphones, he strolled by Ross park, expecting to admire the flora in passing. Not a lithe figure curled up on a park bench.
At first, he believed it to be a college drunkie or 16 year old girl that just had her heart broken. Then he saw that the figure wasn't moving, except for the occasional shiver or brute cough. Figuring it to be a homeless man, he immediately felt pity. Slowly, he removed his headphones and entered the commons area.
He kept a sensible distance away from the figure, just in case it was actually a serial killer. With the aim of a pro, he lifted the bag of pastries in his hand and threw it across. It landed right on the figure's upper back and then fell onto an abandoned novel, letting a loud squelching sound cut through the air. He turned, poised to run, when he heard the being yelp.
"Ow! Bloody hell!"
Wait, he knew that voice. A bare, blue-tinted hand (Fuck, he must've been freezing) groped for the bag. Lifting it up, the figure turned to look at it, and for whoever threw it. Gil would know those eyebrows anywhere.
"Kirkland? What are you doing here? Falling asleep in the park when it's cold is so unawesome!"
Arthur didn't realize he was around Gilbert's neighborhood until the albino found him. With a hint of amusement, the blonde noted the Starbucks bag in his hand. He was just thinking about their scones.
"Needed a place to crash for an hour." The blonde mumbled. It took a moment for him to rip himself away from whatever warm, delicious food was inside the bag and throw it back.
"What happened to your house?"
"My family's a bunch of wankers."
"…Group incestuous orgy?"
"No. They're just sissies that can't take the cold."
"And so they kicked you outside where it's extremely cold."
"I was planning on breaking back in when they all left."
Gil nodded.
"Uh-huh. You've got a lot of explaining to do kid. Come on, you can crash at my place tonight instead of…breaking into your own house. You look terrible."
Oblivious to his pallid complexion, ruby red nose and white lips, Arthur simply took Gil's word for it. He staggered up, grabbed his pack and followed the other out of the park.
"You need to drink this. It's not tea, but hot chocolate should be fine. And you could have the muffin and scones too. Not exactly the best dinner but I'm not allowed in the kitchen after 7 so I can't get you anything when we get to my house."
"Thank you."
Gil eyed him as he sipped from the Styrofoam cup. A leather-gloved hand soon rested in blonde hair, mussing it.
"Cheer up broski. We're going to have a totally awesome man-over!"
So that's what normal boys called sleepovers.
The conversation was slow to start at first, becoming more open when the albino brought up stories about Romano. His seemingly endless knowledge of funny stories dating back to six years ago surprised Arthur. He never thought the two were close at all. Then again, the entire group was closer than they typically let on. Behind all the foul words and bickering, they were similar to a family. Elizaveta and Roderich acted as the parents. Matthew was definitely their son. Then Francis was…a grandfather? Perhaps a godfather. No, Romano was the godfather. The freshman had to be the godfather. Amused, he laughed aloud.
"You've finally snapped."
"You say that as if you were waiting for me to snap."
Gil stuck out his tongue immaturely as he unlocked his door. The Brit socked him in the arm as he walked past.
"Why are all of you so freakin' rich?" he asked as the chandelier burned his eyes. He didn't even realize how rude his question was. His brain had yet to thaw out. Thankfully, Gil didn't mind the interrogation at all.
"It's only me, Francis, Antonio and Romano that have huge houses. Matt-Well, you've already been to his house. Sissy-boy's not mansion-wealthy, but he's not average either. Then Elizaveta lives in an apartment with her Pops and brother.
The boy looked around his flashy parlor with a small frown.
"To be honest, I like the cow's apartment best."
"Why?" Arthur asked, honestly surprised. The albino smirked.
"This house is a bitch to clean after parties."
They shared a mischievous look before bursting into a fit of chuckles.
"I think I caught your crazy."
"The crazy ones are usually the geniuses."
"Come on, let's get you a shower."
Apparently, Gilbert's room was right next to the bathroom, similar to Arthur's own setup. Towel slung over his shoulder and his bag in hand, he entered the Beilschmidt's bathroom foolishly expecting the simplicity of his own.
Not a Jacuzzi with a spa set and an assortment of soaps, shampoos, body washes, and bath salts.
Almost scared of all of the extravagant silver accents and marble counters, he tiptoed towards the shower placed in the far right corner of the room. Arthur flinched when he saw that the knobs to control the temperature were shaped like roses. Even if it wasn't intended, Francis's influence was present in his best friend's washroom. This wasn't scandalous, but it still put him off. The warm water flowing over his chilled body was quick to bring his spirits back up, however. With a content sigh, he let the water sink deep into his pores. At one point, he found he was being discourteous by taking such a long time. He finished his business and left quickly, but not without snatching a cucumber from a glass bowl.
"I understand why your prefer Elizaveta's apartment."
"That's not even my parent's bathroom Artie. Hell, that isn't even the guest bathroom. Hold this for me."
Gil tossed his iron cross necklace, leaving to take his own shower.
Arthur caught it as the door shut. He pulled on his second sock and gazed around, impressed.
The room was plain compared to the rest of the house, but typical for the average teenager.
The carpet was worn from abuse. The blonde spotted a few oddly colored stains and rips in the lush surface. Surprisingly, this was all the mess there was. The desk by the window was surprisingly neat, with various illustrations hung up around a laptop. No clothes were thrown about nor did and scraps of paper lie around. He always expected Gilbert to be a messy guy
The walls were painted white, with black stripes lining the top and bottom. The side next to the boy's bed had the same black bird inked into the male's back. Similar to Gil's tattoo design, the detail put into the image was stunning. He settled for staring for a few minutes, and then gazed at the posters. He could recognize a few bands. The Sex Pistols. Green Day. Asking Alexandria. Four Year Strong. Then some completely baffled him, such as Hollywood Undead, Skrillex, and Alice In Chains.
But the Kanye West poster threw him for a loop.
"You like Kanye West?" He inquired when the albino walked in, flashing his six pack and biceps to the world.
"Hell yes! Eminem, Kanye and Jay-Z. I swear, I live for their music."
"Never thought you were the type."
Gil pulled on a navy V-neck and a black hoodie, and then jumped onto his bed without pulling pants over his baggy black boxers, which Arthur found quite contradictory.
"Why? Is it because I'm stereotypically supposed to listen to rock?"
"Stereotypically is a word within your vocabulary?"
"Now that is no way to treat a friend that has given you a home."
Arthur reddened, looking at his socked toes.
"Sorry. Thanks for letting me stay the night."
"Don't sweat it. I like you. Even if I didn't take the vow, I probably would have let your stay. But, wait, I want an answer! Why don't you think I'm the type?"
"You're seen as a leather jacket badass so I kind of figured metal and rock would be your favorite music genre." Arthur shrugged. "Guess I was wrong."
"No. You're right. I think metal and rock are awesome. I also think that some rappers are awesome."
Gil turned onto to his stomach, fixing Arthur with an amused scrutiny before continuing.
"Let me tell you my view on what punk is so the cow doesn't pollute you with stereotype shit. Punk is punk. There isn't any real way to describe the entire movement. The only people that would know how are the ones like Sid Vicious and The Ramones. Since there is no way to describe it, do what you want, when you want and however the hell you want to do it and never let society get to you. It ain't about looks you know. It's more like a lifestyle. Keep it you and keep it awesome. I think that's the only way to be a true punk. So liking rap and rock isn't a crime."
"I…I agree and disagree."
"Explain thyself commoner."
"There is a way to describe punk. In fact, it all comes down to two words."
He met Gil's gaze with pride.
"Fuck Society."
"I can see why Romano likes you so much."
"Why does he like me?" The question was simple, and filled with honest inquisitiveness.
"Cause you were practically born to be his best friend," The albino flicked his friend's nose. "You never take anyone else's shit. He probably sees a bit of his own sarcastic spunk in you. Mattie says you two are more like twins than he and Feli are."
Arthur beamed, taking this as a compliment. The freshman wasn't half bad.
"He was really worried after you left."
"Hmm?"
"He regretted forcing you to talk about your Dad and thought it was his fault that you left. He panicked and went on and on. Then he started ranting about how he would kill you if you ditched us for Alfred. 'They can date and shit, but if I don't see that bastard when Alfred takes him, I'll go after them with a cleaver.' is what he said.
"I knew he had abandonment issues!"
"He's had relationship issues since he found out he was the least favored twin."
Luisa Vargas's smile flashed in his mind as Arthur said reflexively,
"That can't be true."
The sophomore's grin turned bitter. Gil cut off eye contact and looked out his window.
"You'd be surprised Art." He said calmly. "He can't even sleep in his own house half the time. He's either at Antonio's or Elizaveta's place whenever his family screws up."
"That's…" He trailed of not knowing what to say. As if picking up on this, Gilbert turned towards him with a new smile.
"No point in talking about it. You probably don't need any sad shit after today. Let's-Fuck, where's my necklace?"
The Brit, amused, raised the iron cross. His friend sighed, relieved, and tied it around his neck.
"Is it important to you?"
"It's the only gift from Father Fritz that my 'rents haven't taken."
"Father Fritz?"
Gil got up, moving toward a DVD shelf.
"Only the best Uncle in the entire world. Hey, you want to watch the Lion King?"
"Yes, Gilbert. On one of the most stressful days of my life, I want to watch a lion cub get mentally scarred when he sees his father get gang-murdered by a stampede of rhinoceros-zebra government experiments gone wrong and adopted by a homosexual couples in the-."
"I get it. You really like the Lion King."
As he pushed the CD into the player, Arthur realized that he technically only half lied to his mother. He was watching a movie with a friend after all.
"I only watch this movie for Mufasa." Gil said after a few minutes. "The dude's freakin' beast."
"That may be because he's a lion Gilbert."
"An awesome lion. And…He's going to die soon. Here comes Scar."
"Aww don't cry Gilbert."
"Screw you Skinny Bitch."
Arthur looked at the animated animals with mild interest. Suddenly, an intriguing notion tickled his fancy.
"Is your Uncle Father Fritz like Scar?"
"Hell to the no. If anything, my real dad is Scar. Uncle Fritz is like a laid-back version of Mufasa. He usually visits around Christmas. You could come over and meet him if you want."
"I'll take you up on that offer."
They were silent for the next ten minutes, and then the meerkat and warthog appeared.
At first, Arthur thought he really was going crazy. The voice was a mere whisper. He assumed it was only in his head. But when he turned, he was proven wrong.
Gil wasn't a bad singer. He would never say that. His voice wasn't the reason why he laughed. It was the way the teen was intently looking at the screen, murmuring lyrics under his breath.
The Brit let loose a giggle, which alerted Gil to his audience. The boy reddened as the shorter smirked. But then their eyes met, and a mutual decision was made.
This was how they both ended up singing Hakuna Matata with no regard for the other members of the house.
Gil picked up a hairbrush and Arthur used the remote as microphones, striking dramatic poses and hugging each other around the shoulder. It was all fun and games, until they spotted Ludwig staring at them from the doorway.
The tired, blue-eyed glare was for his brother alone, but a chill still passed through Arthur.
Slowly, they released their embrace and dropped their mics. He felt Gil tense beside him as the albino cleared his throat.
"Evening bruder."
"It's midnight Gilbert."
"Yes Luddy. It's also Sunday morning. We should go to church."
"What Protestant church is active at midnight?"
"The Church doors are always open." Gil wiggled his eyebrows with a smile. His brother was not amused.
"Give me the DVD Gilbert."
"What? No!"
"This is the fifth time this week. Give me the DVD, or else I'll tell Father."
At this, Gil quickly complied.
"You're such a bitch Luddy."
"Don't sing at midnight. Ever. Good Evening Arthur."
"Good Evening Ludwig."
The blonde left, leaving Gil to sulk, but the albino quickly bounced back. Like a child, Arthur noted.
"Let's play 5 questions!"
"Isn't it 20 questions?"
"Usually by the time Franny, Toni and I hit five questions, we figure out something to do."
Well, it couldn't hurt right?
"Alright sure.'
"How long have you had a crush on Alfred?"
"I don't-."
"Bullshit."
Their challenging looks met in a standoff. Gil's crimson eyes penetrated deep, forcing Arthur to turn away with a hot blush.
"I don't know okay? I just do. And I don't like it one bit."
"Is that why you're hanging out with us?"
"Huh?"
"To avoid Alfred and your little feelings?"
If Gil had a tail, Arthur was sure it would be wagging a mile per hour as the boy gave him a condescending smirk.
"It was similar to that at first I guess, but then I thought you lot were okay, so I started doing what you wanted to take a break from the popular kids for a little while. But Romano and I became friends too quickly so I can't just leave. He shouldn't worry about that and… Oi! D-Don't tell anyone about what I just told you! I don't want them to get all cocky."
"Gott, you're such a girl. They all already know anyway."
The Brit groaned, blush growing redder. Gil laughed at his embarrassment, pinching his cheeks as if he were a child. The git.
"What about you and Matthew?" Arthur asked, trying to get back at the albino.
"Hmm?"
"You know the reputation you and Francis have for fooling around. Are you and Matthew serious or is he just another fling?"
"Serious. Definitely serious."
"How sure are you?"
"Hey, wait, it's my turn-."
"You took two turns."
Gilbert turned onto his back, staring up at his ceiling.
"I've endured too much crap for it not to be serious. Francis gave me hell when I asked Birdie out, and then my parents were absolutely pissed."
"Why? Ludwig was with Feliciano before you and Matthew even-."
"I claimed to be bisexual before him." Gil cut off Arthur abruptly. The Brit stayed silent, indicating for him to explain himself.
"Ludwig told me he was gay before he told my parents. I'm older by a few months so he treats me like a real elder brother, confessing stuff to me and shit. He didn't know what to do because Dad's a total ass when it comes to homosexuality so I made up a plan. I told my 'rents I was bi and, naturally, Pop's was pissed off. He couldn't look at me for weeks. Then I told Ludwig to tell them that he was also bisexual two weeks later. They blamed me for leaving a negative impression and let Luddy date Feli, hoping he would realize what he was doing and change. They still hate me but they're tolerant of Ludwig because they think he doesn't know any better."
"And Ludwig never told them about the plan because?"
Gil shrugged.
"He may be strong and brave, but he's weak when it comes to our parents. He's practically whipped. Disgracing them would be like suicide."
"The entire thing must suck for you."
"I can date Mattie and he's happy he can walk around with Feli." The albino said firmly. "That's what I wanted."
"But now your parents loathe you."
Arthur frowned as his comrade kept his eyes trained on the ceiling. Eventually the teen let a long breath loose.
"I'm kind of happy they hate me."
"Wha-?"
"Let me finish. It kind of shows that they don't really love me for me. If you truly love someone, you should at least tolerate every aspect of them. They shouldn't love me only if I fit their standards. I'm a fucking awesome person and they can't see that because they don't like the fact that I'm bi. It's their loss. I wasn't even really bi at first. I just wanted to get them to let Luddy bring Feli to Homecoming."
"That's why Francis didn't want you to date Matthew." The Brit realized. Gil grinned.
"Bingo. He knew I was lying to my parents about the whole thing so he thought I was only joking around."
"What happened when-?"
Arthur's question trailed off into a squeak when he was jumped on. He got a face-full of white hair as he went down.
"You smell like peppermints." He remarked when the albino released him.
"It's my shampoo. Don't you just love it?" Gil drawled. "Like, we totally got it imported it from Norway."
"And you call me a girl." Green eyes rolled teasingly as the sophomore pushed the boy away.
"It's my turn. What's your favorite video game?"
The blonde's nose wrinkled in distaste.
"I despise video games. All you do is shoot people and acquire ammo so you can shoot down more people. It's pointless."
The twinkle in Gil's eyes shone as the Brit expressed his distaste.
"Have you ever played an RPG?"
"A what?"
And that was how Arthur was introduced to the realm of video games. Alfred had always tried to persuade him to play with him, but he had never found any interest in any of the sport-related or shooting diversions that lacked substance. Gilbert's 'RPG's, however, had engrossing plots, stunning characters, and interesting settings. He could read the synopsis of each for days, but Gil was eager to have him actually play.
He settled for Kingdom Hearts, and was quickly swept into the Disney-based game. Gil instructed him on the basics, and the best way to receive all the cut scenes.
At some point, he started comparing the albino to Alfred. Their video game enthusiasm matched, despite the different genres they were interested in. Not to mention their juvenile behaviors. The way Gil reached out to help Arthur was exactly the way he figured Al would try to. He could see himself becoming close comrades with the albino. He was the only friend, other than Al, that he stayed with overnight. Of course, friendship was all it would ever be.
What did he like about Alfred? If Gil and Al were so similar wouldn't he be apt to have the same feelings for the albino? There was something that Gilbert lacked that Al had. But what?
He stared at the boy, who had fallen asleep on the floor. The teen saved his game, shut off the system, and threw a blanket over the teen. His question still ringing in his mind, Arthur followed his friend's example and let fatigue overtake him.
-S.S.C.O.T.Y-
You guys are amazing. I love reading your critiques and opinions. If you have a problem with any part of the story, just tell me. I want this fic to be good.
I've always seen Finland and Denmark as the Nordics that made everyone else laugh when they were feeling down. I wanted to make Tino a shocking character so I kind of tweaked him a bit. Too much? Should I make him more housewife-ish?
Did you know that the U.K has the largest European video gaming market? I can see Arthur hating games like Call of Duty, but loving the games that tell stories like Kingdom Hearts. (Especially since a majority of them have magic and strange creatures).
Preview for the next chapter: The Kirkland household's heating is still out-of-whack in the morning. Alfred and his father offer to take a look at the system and Holly practically traps our favorite Brit in the house. Will Arthur be able to escape an awkward confrontation? Or will he and Alfred feud in front of their parents? And who in the world are Jesper and Norge?