Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, or anything that has been referenced.
Chapter 8: And Oh, the Way Your Makeup Stains My Pillowcase
In Hetlia High, there were unspoken laws that made the school's system. Every student (except for a certain British youth) knew these laws, so there was usually no need to recite them aloud. The rules were null and void in the classrooms, but stood erect in the lunchroom. If any laws were broken, that's where punishment would be given.
Arthur Kirkland broke two of these unspoken laws. To make matters worse, they were the first laws to be created.
1. Once a member of The Monarchy, always a member. There will be no leaving the designated table. There will be no sitting at the table without the current King's permission.
2. Never defy a Hetlia High Monarchy member. Displeasing a member will be punished severely.
Arthur left The Monarchy for the Sophomore Slumps. Arthur got into a feud with their recently crowned prince. For this, he would pay dearly.
The scene seemed to play dramatically slow. If they were in a movie, Bad Influence by P!nk would play as the camera zoomed in on Arthur's face as he laughed at a snide remark Romano made about Gil. It would be like a snapshot of their usual mirth, and then the music would recede to the backdrop as Gil's voice came through.
"It's true! The Fail Whale sounds like a pregnant Francis in labor! Antonio and I have heard it before!"
"You've heard a pregnant Francis in labor? Really?"
Cue the music getting louder as the camera turned away from Gil and instead to a trio of girls in miniskirts, heels and skin tight blouses.
Dressed to kill.
There would be a snapshot of the devious look the girls shared before walking straight towards the Sophomore Slump table. The music would fade out of existence, and their loud (and obviously feigned) conversation would take its place.
"And then I was like totally all over Feliks like 'You can't do that to my Natalia even if you think she's takin' away your Toris.' and then he was all like 'Bitch please, she better back away from my-Oh my gosh. I, am, like, so sorry!"
The camera would follow the lunch tray spiraling through the air, and then zoom in on the girl's smirk, before turning its attention to Arthur's face as a tray of green peas, a veggie burger, and a diet Pepsi landed on his shirt.
"Oops, let me wash that off for you," A silver haired girl took her own carton of milk and poured the liquid over Arthur's blonde hair. 4 people, including the Brit, jumped up. Gil and Romano were ready to fly at the girls, but it was Elizaveta that slammed her palms on the table.
Arthur saw the girl's savagery come out full force in her green eyes. The lunchroom went silent as all turned to look at the spectacle. Oblivious to all of this attention, Elizaveta jumped over the table, barking at the boys to sit down.
"If it isn't Eliza." The first blonde sneered. Blue eyes haughtily looked the Hungarian over, apparently amused by what she saw. Both girls crossed their arms, entire stance giving off aggresiveness. Elizaveta was whole head shorter than the first blonde, but her leer made her seem superior.
"Go back to the playboy mansion Emily. Lord knows how many fights you'll get into there."
"Right after you 'Lizaveta."
"Yeah, right after you!"
Gracefully, Eliza turned her head to look at the second blonde in the trio. The dirty blonde took a ministep back, her own green eyes eying the tomboy warily.
"Bella Von Brasken. Glad to see you still don't have your own opinion."
"Leave BelBel alone!" The silver head pushed Emily aside, placing herself right in front of Elizaveta. Calmly, the Sophomore stared her down.
"Out of my face Natalia. This is our turf. Go back to your table."
"Free country honey!" Emily called tauntingly, pushing Eliza back. Gil and Roderich tensed, but relaxed as she shook her head. The condenscending smirk she gave the girls was: condenscending, confident, fierce.
"Free country my ass."
The tomboy pounced, letting a savage snarl loose. All Arthur could see was mashed potatoes flying and Elizaveta laughing maniacally as she stuffed Romano's pasta in Emily's face. Bella squealed and ran, screaming about her hair, so Arthur assumed that the potatoes hit their target. The other girls followed, complaining about their clothes. Before Natalia left, however, she fixed the Brit with a fierce glare.
"You've made a terrible mistake punk boy." she hissed. Whipping around, she ran after Emily. Slowly the lunchroom began to get louder.
"Behold," Elizaveta exclaimed proudly, holding up crumpled tissues, dyed red by tomato sauce.
"What are we looking at mamasita?"
"The tissues Emily uses to stuff her bra."
"I knew her boobs weren't real!" Romano snickered at Gil's comment, punching the albino in the arm.
Arthur, however, was still in shock.
"What the hell just happened?"
"Something to be expected mon ami," Francis stood, arms extended. "Friends, Arthur has just been anointed with the platter of shame! His period of probation has come to an end."
Roderich and Matthew clapped politely as the rest yelled and whooped.
"You're finally one of us!" Gilbert exclaimed.
"And I had so many dreams for you too Arthur." Elizaveta shook her head despairingly, but there's a grin on her face.
"What in the world is the platter of shame?"
"Every one of us has gotten into fights with a member of the Monarchy." Matthew explained. He pointed at the teens glaring at the group from across the lunchroom. "Gil and I fight with High Prince Alfred. Elizaveta used to fight with the three Duchesses daily. Antonio and King Sadiq used to fight over who would take Romano, since the Monarchy already had Feliciano and stuff. Francis argued with Prince Ivan about dating his sisters and Duke Vash hates Roderich. Their rule is, if you fight with a member of the Monarchy, you get lunch dumped all over you."
"Hell...Did I have one of those stupid names?"
"You probably did…Wait, you didn't know you were a member of the Monarchy?"
Arthur shrugged, wiping off discolored muck with a napkin.
"I've always found High School Politics terribly overdramatic. I only sat there because Al was there. I honestly could care less about the 'Monarchy'."
"Aww, Skinny Bitch you're such a BAMF. I like this kid. We're keeping him."
"We already are Roma."
"The only thing that worries me is the lack of teacher intervention." Roderich said thoughtfully. Francis scoffed. He eyed the lunch monitors with a cold leer and a scowl. His nose scrunched up, giving him the appearance of someone who recently smelt something revolting.
"They're never going to do anything when it comes to the clique. If they start it, it's always brushed off as an accident. If anyone else starts an attack, they call the security guards. Don't you remember how Gupta got arrested?"
"Wasn't he the bloke that shoved Alfred into the vending machines?'
"Oui."
"That's only minor. He didn't need to get arrested."
"But he did."
Elizaveta tapped Arthur's shoulder to draw his attention from the Frenchman.
"Do you wish to wear the stains as a badge of honor or do you want to change?"
"Change please. This shirt is terribly uncomfortable."
He began to strip off the fabric (ignoring the whistles and Gil yelling, "You go girl!") and took the shirt from Elizaveta.
"This is my old button down."
The girl giggled sheepishly, ducking her head.
"Yeah, um, you're allowed to wear your old clothes now. I mean, I don't want you thinking that you have to wear skinny jeans and stuff so you can hang out with us. And, uh, I'm sorry if I started pushing things on you. I h-have a pair of dress pants if you want to wear those too."
Accusingly, Arthur glared at a certain albino, who simply smiled back.
"You told."
"She asked what we talked about at our manover. You know the vows, I can't lie about it."
"I," Arthur glanced up at his red-faced friend. "I'll keep the jeans for now. They've grown on me."
The two were both an interesting shade of crimson as they danced around reciting any apologies. Romano, sick of the sappiness, boldly exclaimed,
"Elizaveta is sorry for making SB feel like he can't be himself if he wants to roll with us and SB is sorry for making Elizaveta feel as if her fashions aren't appreciated. Everyone happy now? Now quit sobbing-."
Before he could finish, a girl caught in a fit of hysterics collapsed at their table.
"Why damn it? Why?" Romano yelled, making the girl cry harder. Gilbert slapped him upside the head.
Francis signaled for Roderich to throw over his water bottle. The pianist complied, allowing the Frenchman to offer it to the sobbing girl.
"Drink, it will make you feel better mon cher."
She lifted her face, making the entire table gasp in horror.
Her dazzling, wide green eyes were rimmed with red from crying. The tears stained her rosy cheeks and wet her mussed blonde hair. Which they all knew used to be in a cute chin length bob cut. Her signature blue ribbon was coming undone, hanging limp in her yellow tangle. Her ruby red nose quivered as she sniffled and took a sip from Roderich's water bottle.
"Y-You're…"
"Thank you for the drink Mr. Bonnefoy."
The girl reached into her pocket, making the Sophomore Slumps jump back in fear. When she pulled up a handkerchief, they relaxed, if only a little.
"You are Vash's..."
The freshman gave them all a weak smile.
"My name is Lina Zwingli. I'm sorry, but may I sit here for the remaining lunch period?"
"Of course mon chaton," Francis ran his fingers through her hair, arranging the soft locks. Arthur stared, silently willing his frenemy to stop before the fearsome hall monitor appeared.
"However," Roderich spoke up, tone strict. She looked at him with surprise and a hint of…admiration? He stared back cooly, going as far as to cock an elegant eyebrow.
"You will have to tell us why you were crying. I've known you and Vash since we were children. He usually prevents you from being unhappy when he can."
The girl's smile disappeared as she began to tear up. This time Gil thwacked Roderich's head, and received a bitch-slap in return.
"The girls are always so terribly mean. All they ever do is gossip-."
"No surprise there." Elizaveta muttered.
"And I loathe that. Vash can't tell them to stop talking and whenever I try to steer the conversation, it always ends up back to gossiping. I couldn't do that to anyone! Even if I didn't like them! And, oh, the things they say about you guys and Monique! Poor Monique! She doesn't deserve this ridicule. She's just smart!"
"Calm down bella." Romano soothed, trying to help.
"I am nothing like that Belgian backstabber!" The girl snapped. Realizing her poor conduct, she began to chastise herself.
"Oh my goodness! I'm turning into one of the duchesses! Ms. Héderváry, please help me! You escaped the Monarchy didn't you? What can I do? I'll do anything!"
Elizaveta, as gentle as a mother, offered Lina her cookie.
"Eat it. Chocolate Chip always makes me calm down. What exactly are you asking me to do?"
The girl wiped her eyes with the cuffs of her red crew neck sweater, munching on the cookie daintily. When she swallowed, she looked at Elizaveta with new resolve.
"I want you to make me more like you, or even Mr. Kirkland. They always talk about how wild your group is and how trying to humiliate you is useless because you don't care. You all even cheer when they dump food on you."
"I…" Elizaveta hesitated, glancing up at Arthur. "I don't want to change anyone for a while."
The blonde's face dropped.
"But, I suppose, I can give you a few pointers on how to be more independent and support your opinions."
"Thank you Ms. Héderváry!"
"On one condition though." The Hungarian gave the girl a wry smile. "You call everyone here by their first name. Here we treat each other as equals. There are no rankings. You know everyone right?"
Lina nodded, a bright smile on her lips.
"Oh yes! You're Elizaveta Héderváry, the girl who cut off one of Duchess Emily's pigtails in 6th grade. Then Antonio Carriedo and Romano Vargas ripped the brakes out of King Sadiq's car. Gilbert Beilschmidt broke Prince Alfred's arm and Matthew Jones broke his legs with a hockey stick. Francis Bonnefoy flirts endlessly with everyone and Arthur Kirkland is the traitor."
"I beg your pardon?"
The blonde shyly looked up at him from under her bangs.
"The traitor. You're the one that betrayed Prince Alfred. The one with a bounty over his head."
Bloody hell.
"Cagna, diavolo non! Where's the bastard? I'll kill him! I swear!"
"So then the whole forgiveness thing was a lie." Arthur muttered. He snatched up his messenger bag, scowling. The bell rang, signaling the end of their lunch period.
"I'll see you lot later." He said shortly. Before Alfred could even turn to look at him, the Brit was gone.
-S.S.C.O.T.Y-
Twas the day before their Thanksgiving break began, when all through the halls, everybody was talking about Lina Zwingli and her small rebellion from the social hierarchy. It was the latest gossip, happening just two periods ago.
Annoyed, Arthur glared at anyone who tried to question him about it.
'They're all so annoying. Don't they have something better to do? The poor girl must be in hysterics by now.'
Indeed, Lina was in hysterics. Surrounded by Elizaveta, Katyusha and her friend Monique, she was crying her eyes out in an abandoned classroom while Vash frantically searched for her.
But Arthur didn't need to know this. He had his own problems to deal with.
He went into the men's room just to wash his hands, but received an entire team of athletes following him in. He got suspicious when they all crowded around him. The scent of danger was smothering him, making his heart pound. With deft fingers, he texted a short message to Romano. The Brit barely managed to slip his phone into his messenger bag before the leader, a buff black haired football player with steel gray eyes, leaned in uncomfortably close to his face.
"If it isn't Kirkland."
Arthur did not give the Junior the satisfaction of a reaction. No matter how much the jock's breath reeked of garlic, the Brit refused to climb into the nearest stall and hurl.
"Do I know you?"
"Allow me to remind you."
And a fist connected with Arthur jaw.
What happened after that was hazy. The punk seemed to drift away from reality as an enraged haze took over him, clouding his vision. He threw a clean right hook, the blow affecting even his own knuckles as he caught skin. Then the cronies came in.
It was six against one. Arthur had no chance. Everywhere sparked with pain as he was kicked, punched and spat on. He fought back of course, but his experience with real fights was that of an amateur.
Draco wasn't that brutal.
He had a nice collection of cuts before the door slammed open and more teens came running in. Dread almost made Arthur collapse, and then he recognized a mop of white hair.
"You're late." He muttered, spitting out bloody phlegm. Gil kicked the nearest burly blonde into a stall, where Francis proceeded to give him a terrible swirly. He pulled Arthur away from the battle, taking a second to examine him.
"Better late than never. We…Aw, fuck we can't get you home looking like that."
The albino caught a punch, but wasn't able to stop a kick to his stomach. Antonio jumped the assailant, crashing into a wall. Gil was quick to get up and help him beat the athlete into submission.
A wet hand caught Arthur's wrist. He instinctively wrenched his hand away, but let his fist fall to his side when he saw his captor.
"Relax mon ami. We're getting you out. The teachers are coming."
In a single motion, Francis hoisted Arthur up to an open window. Before the punk jumped the two feet drop to the ground, he saw the Junior that started it all. With a deep gash on his left cheek, he looked even more menacing.
"Watch your back Kirkland! We'll-!"
He fell to his knees and ran. His stomach did all sorts of stunts, a wave of nausea overcoming him. Leaning against a metal pole, he retched into the nearest trash can, both nerves and sickness getting the best of him. The boy sank to the ground, angry at everything from stupid popularity ranks to the old friend he thought he made up with.
Watch out for yourself and whatever you care about. I see a great war in your future.
-S.S.C.O.T.Y-
"A fight! A fucking fight! Are you guys serious? Do you want to get expelled? God damn Gilbert! I've talked to you again and again about this! How the hell are you going to cover it up this time you dumbass?"
The albino shamefully looked away from the girl screaming in front of him.
"I wore gloves."
"Gloves don't cut it! Antonio, Francis, you two said you'd try to stop him next time! If the school calls his parents up then that's it! He's done! And you dragged Arthur into it too! How the hell-?"
"It wasn't their fault."
The Beilschmidt's basement went silent as Elizaveta stopped her rant.
All four boys sat as she tended to their wounds. Gil, sporting terrible bruises on his knuckles and stomach, lay down flat on the old leather couch, staring at the ceiling. Antonio sat in Arthur's previous emotional corner, examining a gash on his calf. Francis was in the black lawn chair, trying to rinse the blood out of his blonde hair with a bowl of water Elizaveta gave him.
Arthur, carrying the most cuts, scrapes, discolored bruises and a black eye, was the one that needed the most attention.
"What happened Arthur?"
He looked at the ground as she dabbed his numerous cuts with disinfectant.
"I…I'm not sure. I was going to the bathroom and these athletes came in and…we just fought."
Gentle hands paused.
"Did they threaten you? What did they say?"
"Just for," he coughed violently, spitting another ball of bloody saliva into a tissue.
"Just for me to 'Watch my back.'"
Antonio winced as his friend was subdued with another round of dry hacking, and spit up more bloody liquid.
"Uh, I'd get that checked vato. That sounds serious."
Arthur shook his head.
"It's not my organs or anything. It's my inner cheek. I bit down really hard on it when I was punched. The blood kind of flows to the back, mixes with snot and tries to choke me so I-."
"Enough information. Let me see your other leg."
Arthur rolled up his bloody jeans.
"Just when I decided I would keep this too. Sorry Eliza."
"'s fine," The girl grunted. "We can just rip them if the stains don't come out easily."
"They went all out on you huh Artsy?"
"Well you have to wear bandages on your hands."
Gil looked at his fabric-wrapped palms, shrugging.
"I've been through worse. But they basically ignored us and kept going back to you. For some reason, you were the target."
"I think we all know that reason."
Sharply, Arthur looked at Antonio. The Spaniard seemed uncharacteristically aggravated. His green eyes seemed to be five shades darker as he studied the Brit with a scowl.
"Oh great," Elizaveta groaned. "If Toni's pissed then he's gonna go look for a fight-."
"No one beats up mis amigos without punishment. It's not fair."
"They'll get caught Toni." Francis said shortly. The Spaniard leered at the wall now.
"But they will not get the same penalty as us."
"That's it. Someone call Romano. Lord knows he's the only one that can fix him."
Gil pulled out his phone. Contemplatively, Arthur looked around.
"I texted Romano earlier, not you guys. What happened to him?"
"His grandfather was already throwing him in the car so he called Antonio." Francis explained, wincing as his sprained wrist moved.
"He says he'll be here-."
"Chigi! You bastards!"
"Now." Gilbert finished lamely.
The teen tore into the room, clad in a oversized red t-shirt, black sweatpants, and tomato-adorned socks. Judging by his casual wear and the red rims under his eyes, the boy was asleep when Gil called him over. Unfortunately, this meant hell for all of them.
The Italian marched right over to Antonio and poured alcohol into the wound, ignoring the Spaniard's cries of pain.
"I told you to get in there and get out with Arthur. Plain and simple. I'm asleep, Gil tells me to come over and I find you with a fucking knife wound-!"
"It was actually a pair of scissors."
"I don't give a fuck!" Romano yelled, scrubbing the gash.
If Antonio's scream were anything to go by, Arthur's fear when Romano approached him was completely justified.
"How are you SB?"
"Non sto morendo. I'm not dying." He warily eyed the disinfectant bottle in the freshman's hand. Seeing this, the Italian swiped it in front of his face, laughing when the blonde flinched.
"Aww Roma's teaching him Italian!" Antonio's mood brightened when Romano abused him. Masochistic much? They all believed so.
"How's Grandpa Vargas?"
Romano rolled his eyes.
"A bitch to deal with as always. But it looks like you've got bigger problems. You can't go home like that."
"Manover at my house?" Antonio offered. The boys whooped and cheered. This sounded quite pitiful, however, and seemed more like a chorus of dying cats.
"Can I come? I want to make sure you don't screw around with that black eye." The girl cautiously pressed a wrapped ice pack against the injury. "You've never had one before right Arthur?"
Gilbert wouldn't buy her excuses.
"Hell no you can't come. You're a cow." He said at the same time as Francis replied, "Of course mon chere. You're safe with us."
Elizaveta looked from Gil to Franny, slightly wary.
"I'm rooming with Arthur and Romano. The gay guy and his best friend are always the safest options."
The Italian snickered, mocking the boys as she turned back to Arthur. Eliza craned the blonde's face every way possible, biting her lip as she eyed the damage done to it.
"You'll have stay out of your house for the next two days. I can put concealer on the eye when the swelling goes down."
"Thanks Eliza. For everything."
"Well thanks for making me come to Gilbert's when I'm supposed to be eating dinner."
She smiled to show that she was simply teasing. He would have grinned back, but the muscles in his face ached too much for any expression.
"Are you two coming or not?" Gilbert called.
Arthur, bloodstained and tired, offered a hand out to Elizaveta. Together, they walked out into the night, closing the door on any civility they had had left.
-S.S.C.O.T.Y-
"Yeah, Mum? I'm staying with the Carriedo's for the night. Sorry, I know I'm late. We're having a manov...I'm with Romano, Antonio, Francis, Elizaveta, and Gilbert. Yeah, manover-that's what guys call sleepovers- We're having a manover. No Elizaveta won't room with Francis. Love you mumsy. I'll be home by curfew tomorrow. Do you want to talk to Mrs. Carriedo?"
"Yo Matt? Can you bring some clothes for Arthur to wear home? We're at Toni's…You're jackass brother should know what happened. So unawesome Matt. You won't believe it. Come over, we're having a manover. Make sure Arthur's mom doesn't catch you….Just make up some excuse. Love you birdie."
"Maman, I'm at Toni's for the night. Lock all the doors and windows. Remember your medicine…Are you sure you'll be okay by yourself? I could…Oui…Oui. Alright, Je t'aime Mere."
"Andris? It's Liz. Is Dad home? Tell him that I'm staying at Toni's house…Hell no. I'll gut you in your sleep if you try that. Just…You're an ass. Screw you."
"Feli, I'm at Antonio's. Goodbye."
-S.S.C.O.T.Y-
Compared to the others, Antonio's house was more homely. The scent that wafted through the house reminded Arthur of a bakery: sweet and warm. The walls were a dark tan, and held portraits both new and old, whips, and Vaquero hats on display. Even at night, the house seemed bright, as if it held an eternal source of sunshine. The resonance the clay floor tiles made as you walked through the house was intriguing. You would have to stop yourself from standing in one spot and stomping your feet if you weren't used to the noise.
The sound of children laughing and running about surprised Arthur.
"I thought you didn't have any siblings." He said as they walked passed the dining room.
The Spaniard smiled as the laughter became louder.
"No, but I have lots of cousins. Lots and lots."
An army of children erupted from the hallway, making a beeline for Antonio. Arthur spied flashes of green as they passed. The eldest children were at most 12 years of age, and the youngest seemed no older than 3.
"Big Brother Toni!" The kids chorused, climbing onto the teen.
"Buenos noches Rodriguez, Abril, Tavio, Juliet, Leonardo, Vanessa, Zerlina, Pablo, Marco, Romeo, and little Keisha."
"Look at how big my turtle has gotten Toni!"
"No, look at mine!"
"Tavio hit me today!"
"My turtle ate Tía Marrisa's curtains today!"
"Why is there such a cut on your leg?"
"Oh no, did an eagle come down from the mountains and attack you?"
"No Zerlina. You've been reading too many stories. I have to go chicos. I have mis amigos here see? I need to hang out with them today."
The children clambered off of him, arguing about their pet turtles. A little girl remained however. Biting one of her russet pigtails, she hugged Antonio about the knee.
"Will you still read me a bedtime story?"
"Yes Z. I'll come by around nine if you're not asleep."
The girl nodded and ran off to join her cousins. Romano scoffed when Antonio returned.
"Softie."
"Yes Roma. I'll read you a story too."
"Bas...Teppista!"
"Aww, Romano's censoring himself for the kids."
"Shut it Gil."
The group walked up the steps rather slowly. Romano slung Arthur's arm over his shoulder, helping the Brit get up first.
"They screwed you up."
"Please don't kill me if I spit up blood on your expensive, imported straight from Venice, sneakers."
"You're such a…hater."
"Wow. You're serious about not cursing in this house."
Deviously, Romano pushed Arthur into the door of Antonio's room.
"My back! Go to hell Romano!"
The Italian pulled the blonde into a chair and flicked his nose.
"I just came back from hell actually. Grandpa Vargas says hello."
The boy continued to push and prod Arthur as the others walked in.
"Mum! He's bullying me!"
"Romano, stop bullying your brother. He's had enough of that for today."
"He's had enough for a lifetime." Gilbert grumbled, kicking off his shoes and clambering on Antonio's bed.
"I'm sorry guys," The Brit said after a pause. "I shouldn't have dragged you-."
"Bullshit. We fight those guys all the time, and win awesomely of course."
"But they never give up," Francis frowned. "If anything, we should be apologizing to you mon ami. By making you one of us, we pulled you into our battles."
"There's going to be more?"
"There's been many, and they will continue to be many until we graduate."
Then the group told gruesome tales of battles, backstabbings and pranks that went on right under Arthur's nose. Gradually, they fed the fire of rebellion in him, unknowingly turning him into one the most useful warriors they could ever receive.
-S.S.C.O.T.Y-
Matthew arrived sometime around 8, bringing soup that Antonio's mom had made.
"Chicken Noodle Soup: The Best Remedy for a scarred soul. Drink Kirkland. You need it."
Showered and properly dressed, the group tried to bandage their wounds tight for the night. Elizaveta was already in the guest room, talking to Roderich over the phone, leaving the boys to tend to themselves. Arthur steadied the ice on his eye, taking a sip of the soup. Matthew was carefully unwrapping Gil's hands, frowning all the while.
"I cannot believe Al got them to fight you."
"We don't know it was Al." Arthur defended.
"Who else could it be? Head athlete gets pissed because his best friend insults him so he sends his cronies to beat up prior best friend. It's so cliché that it's right up my cousin's alley." Francis's voice was bitter as he eyed a small cut on right next to his ear. If it scarred, his flawless face would be ruined!
"He probably saw something similar in a movie. Maple! What happened to your hands Gil?"
Arthur glanced around with slight guilt. Tiredly, he sighed.
"I need some sleep. Thanks for everything today. Good Night."
He took up his dish and snuck downstairs. In record speed for a cripple, he placed his soup bowl in the kitchen sink and limped back up the stairs. He found Elizaveta already claiming one of the two beds when he finished brushing his teeth. The girl's nose was deep in a copy of City of Glass, vaguely reminding of a certain aura-reading boy He figured he could sneak around her, but Elizaveta's perception was impeccable.
"I almost cried today."
Arthur stopped in his tracks. Weary, he glanced back at the girl.
"Why?"
"They tend to fight until they have to be driven to a hospital. When Gil called and said you were really hurt, I completely lost it."
"There's no need to worry. I'm fine Eli."
The girl tore her eyes away from her book.
"Are you really?" He couldn't reply.
"I," She faltered as she tried to find the right words. "I care for you Artie."
"What?"
"Not like that! God, they hit your head hard. I mean, as a best friend, motherly type of love. I know we started this whole thing as more of a business partnership to help you get Al, but it can't be like that anymore." She looked him in the eye. The Brit saw sincerity softening her gaze as she bit her lip.
"We're terribly good friends now, and I have to help you with anything I can, and warn you about what may harm you." Arthur thought he knew where she was going with this. He stiffened, expecting to hear more speculation about Alfred's role in the fight. Elizaveta, however, managed to surprise him.
"Find out the truth for yourself Arthur. Keep the facts close and push away opinions. That's the surefire way to go about things. Good night."
And with that, the entire conversation ended. She simply turned her back to him, turning out the lights by clapping twice. It took hours for Arthur to fall asleep. His eye ached and when Romano arrived, he kept kicking his bruised legs. But his mind had the worse of it. He was angry at Al before, but he knew Alfred didn't do it. He couldn't hurt a fly. The entire assumption seemed off. But if Alfred didn't do it, then who did?
-S.S.C.O.T.Y-
I love picking on Arthur. A bit too much it seems, since I've torn him apart. I think the S.S's attention is going to be drawn more to the attackers than Alfred. But the hero will get a chapter or two of his own so he won't be completely abandoned.
I've always seen Liechtenstein as the type who would dislike gossiping and Elizaveta as the tomboy who would find it stupid and completely useless. (No time to gossip if you can go play football with your brother.) So those two clicked for me. If at any time Lina seems OOC please critique me on it. I've never really used her or the Nordics before.
Thank you so much for the critiques, reviews, faves and alerts! It's great to know that you guys like this story. (80 reviews and 99 alerts! That's a new record for me!)
Preview: Gil, Elizaveta, Arthur and Romano decide to run around the mall with Lina for the day, looking for concealer for Arthur's eye. But when they spot Vash at the Luxia, what shall they do? Especially when they don't want the Hall Monitor learning about their fight. And why in the world does Tino want to have dinner with Arthur?