Hey, guys!

I'm so sorry that I've taken such a long time to post this!

I literally just finished this semester of classes, so now my schedule is more open!

Plus I've also been doing a lot of art pieces, which has prolonged this a bit (as well as some massive writer's block. . .)

Anywho, this chapter is now up. Aaaaaaand I should be able to post the next one up soon too if all goes well.

A lot of these feel like so much introductiony stuff - I hope it's not coming off as too boring!

Also, I've seen a few questions regarding to what "The Game" is - I assure you that will be explained soon enough!

Anyways, thank you all for taking the time to reading this! I hope you all enjoy this!

Hetalia (c) Hidekaz Himaruya

Dont Lean on Me (c) Me Bringmemisery

If you guys have any questions, feel free to message me! I will answer what ever concerns you may have!

Thank you!

Chapter 3 – Changer de Vie

Francis sighed as he plopped onto the ornate couch in Arthur's living room.

The sunlight that poured from the open window made his head ache. He squinted his eyes and rubbed his temple, but to no avail. His head continued to pound – each second the pain escalated. He rested his feet on the coffee table before him and forced out another sigh.

"Pardon me," he heard Arthur's voice call to him, "are you putting your disgusting shoes on my clean coffee table?"

"It is too early to be yelling at me, mon amor," Francis groaned.

Francis felt his legs being lifted from the table – he braced for impact.

"Are you hard of hearing," Arthur said as he dropped Francis' feet to the floor.

"Must you be so grumpy this early?" Francis stretched.

"When I tell you something," Arthur kicked Francis' leg, "you do it."

Francis yelped as he rubbed his leg, "Excusez-moi, Joffery."

"Take that back," Arthur growled as he pulled Francis to his feet by his shirt.

Francis laughed, "Did I strike a nerve, mon amant?"

Steps from upstairs caused the both of their heads to jerk. At the top of the steps stood Alfred in his baggy Batman pajamas. His head was titled to the side, and his glasses were placed on the top of messy hair. His droopy eyes told that he hadn't been awake long.

"Dudes," he said in a groggy voice, "you guys are like, totally loud."

Francis and Arthur exchanged looks for a moment. Arthur sneered as he released Francis and straightened himself.

"Forgive us, Alfred," he said coolly, "I was just trying to teach the frog some manners."

Francis laughed, "Alfred, if he's any trouble, you are more than welcome to stay with me."

"Can it," Arthur yelled, "he's not going to live under your roof. You can hardly care for yourself – what makes you think you can care for anyone else?"

Francis snickered, "there are quite a number of people who think my care est merveilleux."

Arthur continued to rant while Francis noticed Alfred walk down the stairs.

Seeing Alfred again after so many years was going to take some getting used to. Plus it almost didn't make much sense why he chose to stay with Arthur of all people. Antonio had made a point last night – Alfred could stay at the campus. Yet there he was, pajamas and all, staying with the man Francis thought would never speak to the young American again.

Francis sat back down on the couch and smiled, "Alfred I must ask, how have you been? It has been quite some time since I've seen that bright smile of yours—"

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Francis," Arthur groaned.

Alfred laughed, "I guess I've been fine. I'm breathing and walking, and stuff."

Francis smiled, "Wonderful to hear, mon ami. How is your brother?

"He's better off than I am, to be honest," Alfred said with a laugh, "and he's like totes jealous that I'm out here, too."

Francis chuckled, "he should have come out here then."

"He wanted to, but he works his butt off and never can, like, make the time to come out. Or so he says. I think he's making up a lame excuse 'cause he's embarrassed."

"What ever could my Matthieu be embarrassed of?"

"Umm, he's a baby. Like, no joke. He, like yours truly, has not seen you guys in years, so I know he'd be all shy and quiet, and be like, 'ummm, hey, eh.' And that crap."

"Sounds like he hasn't changed much," Francis smiled, "well, he should try coming out here some day. I've missed him dearly."

"I'll try to convince him," Alfred said as he stretched his back, "We all need to catch up."

"Alfred," Arthur's voice broke in, "what exactly has your brother been up to theses past years? Is he studying as well?"

Alfred scratched his neck, "No, he's not. He pretty much took the 'work-as-soon-as-we- graduate' route. But he gets paid great, so he's not complaining."

"May I ask his occupation?"

"He's a barista in our local coffee shop. I know it doesn't sound like much, but he gives Starbucks a run for their money. The kid's talented, and he gets like a mountain of tips daily. I wish I was that talented."

"Mon ami, don't compare yourself to Matthieu. You're talented in your own unique way."

Arthur laughed, "Didn't know that sitting on your arse all day was considered a talent."

"Arrêtez," Francis grumbled, "Ignore him, Alfred."

"Ignore who?" Alfred smiled.

"Ungrateful twat," Arthur huffed as he thrust his nose in the air.

Francis shook his head as he smiled.

At least Alfred never lost his great sense of humor!

"Mon ami, tell me, what made you wish to study out here?"

Alfred brought his index finger to his lip, "Well, schools out in the U.S. like are great and all, but I've kinda been a little bleh about it—"

Arthur scoffed, "guess your country isn't as great as you thought it was."

Alfred glared, "dude, seriously?"

"Do I not look serious to you?"

"Kind of look like a jackass, but that's just me."

"You know what, you brat," Arthur yelled as he pulled the front of the American's shirt, "forget not that I let your sorry arse under my roof—"

"Arthur," Francis broke in, "please, let us not argue over such a trivial matter."

Arthur shot a look at Francis, then released Alfred's shirt and walked towards the kitchen.

Francis shook his head as he looked over to Alfred, "I am serious about living with me, mon ami."

Alfred laughed, "Dude it's cool. I figured this would happen—"

"If that is so," Francis interrupted, "then why bother coming here?"

Alfred laughed as he pulled his glasses off his head, "Do you know how expensive school is out in the States? It would make more sense to sell my soul to the Devil, or something. Besides," He placed his glasses on the bridge of his nose, "I thought it would be cool to catch up, you know? God, I was like a kid the last time I saw any of you guys. Mattie sure is missing out"

Francis laughed as he shook his head, "you may have grown, but you're still the same."

"Is that bad?" Alfred cocked his head to the side.

Francis shook his head once more, "not at all, mon ami. You're still young – live the way you do. If you stay true to yourself, you will never go wrong."

Alfred opened his mouth to say something when a child's voice from upstairs cut him off. Francis sighed as he noticed Peter standing at the top; his small hands were on his hips and a white bed sheet was wrapped around his neck.

"Ahoy, mateys!" Peter yelled as he ran down the stairs.

"Peter," Francis said as he leapt to his feet, "be careful. You can hurt yourself—"

"Francis," Peter whined, "don't act like brother!"

"I am not acting like him," Francis half smiled.

Alfred pulled onto Peter's bed sheet saying how he was like a 'tiny superman' as Francis sat back on the couch. His head was still pounding. He closed his eyes and sank in the couch. His thoughts shook his brain. Thoughts of Alfred, of Antonio, Gil. Recently nothing was making much sense. He wasn't sure if that conversation yesterday he and his friends had was the cause of it, but his stomach was on a rampage.

He remained lost in his mind for a moment until a loud screech made him jump to his feet. His eyes shot to Alfred and Peter who both returned a look of surprise. Francis scanned the room, then recognized the sound – it was a fire alarm.

He ran towards the kitchen to find Arthur struggling to pull open a window. Francis ran to his side, and helped heave open the window. A slight breeze pushed through as Francis turned towards the stove. A lone pan rested above the small fire; its contents crisping to a medium brown.

Were those . . . eggs?

Francis turned to meet Arthur's bright red face.

"Don't look at me," Arthur said as he approached the stove, "bloody hell."

Francis smiled as walked over and wrapped his arms around the Englishman's waist, "how is breakfast coming along, mon amor?"

"Do you need you damn eyes checked?" Arthur snapped at he tried to free himself.

Francis laughed whilst tightening his hold, "you should have asked for my help."

"I don't need a frog's help," Arthur groaned as he managed to pull away with the pan in his hand, "touch me again and I'll through this crap at you, Le Pew."

Francis smiled again, "well if your aim is anything like your cooking, I have nothing to worry about."

Not even a second later, Arthur flung the burnt eggs at Francis' face. Most of it missed him by a few inched, but the rest slithered down his shirt. Francis shrieked as the hot chunks plopped to the floor. His eyes shot up to Arthur who was roaring in laughter.

Very mature.

As Arthur continued to howl, Francis noticed a bottle of cooking spray resting on the countertop. He grabbed it and made his way to Arthur.

"Oh, Arthur," He almost whispered.

Arthur looked up for a moment, and Francis saw his chance. He sprayed the bottle all over Arthur's face and hair, but his triumph was short lived. His heart skipped once he realized Arthur still had that pan in his hand.

Arthur swung the pan before him, nicking the tip of Francis' nose. Then he swung again and again until finally the pan came into contact with the side of the Frenchman's hair.

Now his aching head was pulsating and burning.

Francis rubbed his head, "one day you are going to kill me."

"That day sure hasn't come soon enough," Arthur replied as he turned away, "look at what you've done now, Frog? Now, I have to restart everything."

"Not like you really were anywhere to begin with," Francis continued to massage his head.

Arthur turned towards him, but his eyes drifted to the doorway. Francis looked over his shoulder and saw both Alfred and Peter standing in silence.

"Umm," Alfred said after a moment, "you guys okay in here?"

"Of course," Francis replied in an instant, "what would make you think otherwise?"

Alfred rubbed his head, "we heard yelling, so we came to check it out—"

"Alfred," Arthur said, "do not stick your nose where it does not belong."

Francis shot Arthur a look before turning back to Alfred, "Everything is fine. Arthur just tried to burn the house down."

He waited for a smart reply, but for once got none. He blinked in confusion before he glanced to Arthur who was rummaging through the refrigerator.

Francis sighed as he forced a smile, "Breakfast will be ready shortly . . . I think."

"You guys need help," Alfred asked.

"Actually" Arthur's voice echoed from inside the refrigerator, "you can set the table, and then take the trash out."

"Aye aye, Cap'n," Alfred said as he walked over to the cabinets.

Francis shook his head. His head still couldn't wrap around the American. Of course, getting used to Arthur's behavior was never easy, but there was no reason to be disrespectful. But poor Alfred just listened almost as if nothing were the matter.

Francis chewed on the inside of his cheek when something tugged at the bottom of his shirt. He peered down and his eyes met with Peter's.

"Francis" Peter whispered, his big blue eyes widening.

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Are you working today?"

"Non, why?"

Peter swayed from left to right, "Well, if you're not busy, I was wondering if you would teach me more French after breakfast."

Francis couldn't hold in his smile, "If that is what you'd like, then of course."

"Yes!" Peter beamed as he ran over to Alfred.

Francis continued to smile as he walked over to the dining table. Though he can be a real pest, Peter was just an adorable little kid.

†††††

"I'm seriously thinking out Liberal Studies, bruh," Alfred said as he sat down on the living room floor.

"Do what makes you happy, mon ami," Francis smiled as he took a sip from his wine glass.

"Do you have a specific concentration, Alfred," Arthur asked.

Alfred looked up towards the ceiling, "umm . . . yes?"

"What is it, might I ask?"

"Umm . . . yes?"

"You don't have one, do you?"

Alfred laughed, and Arthur let out a groan.

"Mon cher," Francis looked over to the Englishman, "I don't think it is necessary. He's still young, and he can focus on something later on—"

"I know," Arthur rolled his eyes, "I was just asking a bloody question, my god!"

"Alfred," Peter said as he hung upside down on the sofa beside his brother, "what's Liberal Studies?"
"It's being a teacher."

"Hey," Peter sat up and pointed at Arthur, "that's what brother's doing!"

"Pointing is rude," Arthur sipped his tea.

"Dude, what? That's totes amazing!"

Francis smiled, "It appears the two of you have something in common, after all."

"Big whoop," Arthur sighed, "Liberal Studies is quite popular, nowadays. But it takes a true instructor to make the cut."

After a moment of silence, Arthur shot his head to the side – his eyes darted around the room.

Francis lifted an eyebrow.

Was Mint Bunny saying something?

"Mon Amor?"

Arthur shifted his eyes towards Francis, "What?"

"What are you doing?"

Arthur's eyes played tug-of-war from the wall to Francis, "What do you mean?"

"What you're doing – is something wrong?"

Arthur cackled, "Of course not! I just. . ." his eyes drifted once more, "just thought I heard something."

"It is probably your mind playing a game with you, mon ami," Francis sipped his wine again.

"I'm telling you, frog, there is a nasty little buggart in my house!"

"Whatcha mean, brah?"

Arthur crinkled his nose in disgust, "the bloody hell did you call me?"

"Uh, brah? Like, bro?"

". . . Your vocabulary terrifies me."

"Well, excuse me," Alfred stuck his tongue out, "I'm not prissy like you are, okay?"

"I'm not prissy," Arthur gasped, "I am well-behaved, unlike you."

"Whateves," the American said with a smile, "but, dude for serious. Whatcha mean somethin's in your house?"

"Why must you be so damned nosy?" Arthur shook his head.

Francis laughed, "Did I not tell you he's young? The youthful mind is always full of wonder!"
Peter rose his hand, "brother!"

"What do you want?"
"Don't you say that curiosity killed the cat, or some sort?"

Arthur started as his brother with wide eyes, "do you truly take heed to my lessons?"

"Only when it sounds fun, or involves death," Peter grinned like a maniac.

Arthur gazed down into his tea cup, "And here I was thinking you would learn something practical. But no, you have to go off selective listening."

"I do that in school sometimes," Alfred chimed in.

"And that's why you're a failure," Arthur sipped his tea.

"Mon ami," Francis whined, "be nice for five minutes, se il vous plait."

"I will not be nice to an ignoramus like him. He knows what he's doing, yet he chooses to irk me."

"Dude," Alfred boasted, "isn't Erk a Fire Emblem character?"

"See what I bloody mean?" Arthur snapped.

"He's young, remember?"

"Fine, he's young, and you're a moron."

"Fine by me," Francis smiled as Arthur groaned.

If it wasn't this easy to anger him, life would be so boring!

"But dude," Alfred stated, "seriously, what do you mean somethin's here? Like a ghost or something?"
Arthur placed his teacup on the coffee table before him, "as a matter of fact that is what I'm saying. Yet no one believes me—"

"I do!" Peter said as he rose his hand again.
"Except you!"

"Dude, are you like serious?"

"What would I gain in lying?" Arthur pulled on the cuff of his shirt.

Francis pushed his bangs from his eyes, "Mon cher, I still believe that your eyes trick you."

"Just because you cannot see it, does not mean it does not exist! I am telling you, there is something in my house and it does not want to leave."

"Maybe," Alfred suggested as he adjusted his glasses, "this was its house first, and it wants you to leave?"

Arthur shook his head, "I've been the only one to live here, and it was not until recently that that buggart has been showing its damn face."

"It woke me up once," Peter cut in, "scared me half to death."

Francis frowned, "are you sure it was not a nightmare?"

"Francis," Arthur yelled, "I am bloody telling you we are not imagining this thing! It is in my house and it will not leave!"

"Dude, why don't you get the house cleansed?"

"Already did that myself," Arthur squeezed the bridge of his nose, "I've done it many times, yet it still stays."

"Try exorcising it!"

Arthur looked up, "It's not evil — it's just a bother."

Francis yawned, "Then leave it alone. If it means no harm, then why lose sleep over it?"

"Did you not hear that it is a nuisance? I want it out of my house!"

"Me too!" Peter whined, "He likes me, and he's freaking me out!"

"He?" Francis furrowed his brow.

"Peter," Arthur muttered, "What did I tell you about refraining from gendering it?"

"Sorry!" Peter covered his mouth, "I mean 'it.' That's what I mean."

"What's that make a difference?" Alfred asked.

"By acknowledging what it shows you, you're allowing it to toy with you."

"Still doesn't make sense," Alfred grumbled.

"Look," Arthur picked up his teacup, "this cup is a teacup, correct?"

Alfred nodded and Arthur continued, "If you acknowledge this teacup, you're acknowledging that it's there. You're making it know that you can see what it shows you. This opens up a new opportunity to deceive you. It may not be evil, but it can still be no good. The more that we keep it from a personal standpoint, the better off we will be."

Francis shook his head and laughed, "Arthur, c'est ridicule! Do you hear yourself? You're just paranoid, is all!"

"Damn you, bloody frog," Arthur barked, "Just you watch! I'll find a way to prove it to you, and then you'll see who is laughing!"

Francis held up his hand, "Now, now, no need to shout. I am just joking around—"

"Like hell you are! You don't believe a damn word I say!"

"Mon amor, the only reason is because I cannot see it, remember?"

"Get your damn eyes checked, then!"

"Now, you know that won't fix a thing," Francis rolled his eyes.

Arthur really was taking this too seriously.

He was making it up . . . wasn't he?

Francis wasn't so sure himself. Arthur has always been able to see something others cannot – all of the Kirklands could! And then they'd all have a tantrum because no one else can. Though it probably did come in handy, Francis couldn't imagine that kind of ability. It sounded so . . . sad, and depressing.

Maybe that's why Arthur's never in a good mood?

Francis placed his empty wine glass onto the table top and stretched. His back let out a quick pop causing him to wince.

"Dude," Alfred gasped, "Was that you?"

Francis shrugged, "That is what it sound like to be old, mon ami. Your body starts to break down."

"Keep letting it break," Arthur smirked, "that way I can get rid of you sooner."

Francis peered over to the Englishman, "Maybe I'll come back and haunt you like that little friend of yours?"

Arthur's face flushed as he forced a smile, "Very funny, idiot."

"Question," Alfred's voice rang, "how long has this ghost thing been botherin' you guys?"

Arthur pressed a fingertip to his lips, "I would say it's been a month now."

"A month," Alfred mumbled, "do ya know anything that could've triggered it?"

Arthur furrowed his brows, "As a matter of fact, I think I do. A few miles behind my house, there is a rather massive lakebed. Not too far off shore there is what appears to be a rundown cabin of sorts. It's been locked for as long as I've been here, but over a month ago, I came to find that the front door was swinging wide open—"

"Did ya go in?" The American almost screamed.

"Of course not, you lunatic!" Arthur objected, "First of all, that is not my property. Second, I don't know what in the blazes could be in there!"

"Go check it out," Alfred said as he nudged Francis, "Dude, Francis, back me up here! It totally got loose 'cause someone let it out!"

Francis shook his head, "You should not muddle with that, Alfred. It could be dangereux."

"But it sounds uber cool! Like, Ghost Busters but in real life!"

"No one is going into that bloody cabin," Arthur shouted, "It is off limits. If I find you step one foot in that bloody place, I will chop your legs off!"

"Duuuuude," Alfred lifted his hands, "Chill, I was totally yankin' your chain. Besides, there's nothing cool about some freakin' awesome cabin, anyways!"

"Heed my warning, Jones!"

"I heard you the first time, mom," Alfred folded his arms.

Francis chuckled, and felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He gazed down at the screen.

Gil:

Bro! Where you at? I gotta talk to you!

Francis rose his eyebrow.

Was there something important today?

Moi:

I'm at Arthur's. Is everything alright?

From: Gil

Bro, bring him to my place!

Moi:

Pourquoi?

Gil:

I'm lonely, and bored.

And I want to talk to you guys!

Mein Gott! Can't a guy just see his bros?

Francis sighed, as he looked up to Arthur, "Mon amor, Gil wants us to go to his place."

"Why? I have better things to do than see him."

"He says he wants to talk to us? But he hasn't told me exactly what, though."

Arthur stood up, "If he wants to talk, either tell him to call, or he can drag his arse here. I have class work to do anyways. I do not have time to go out."

Francis shrugged and looked down at his phone once more.

Moi:

Arthur wants you here. . .

Gil:

Why does he hate me?

Moi:

He hates everyone, mon ami.

Gil:

Fine :(

I'll be over in like, 10 minutes . . .

Francis shoved his phone in his pocket, and his eyes met with Peters.

"Is Gil coming here?" The child said with a grin.

"It would appear that way," Francis replied as he ran his fingers through his hair.

Peter's grin widened, "that means more lessons for me!"