Tuesday evening, 6:15 p.m
Movies lie, Alfred realizes. When you get into a wreck it doesn't nearly go as fast as the films suggest, or at least not enough to save the driver from excruciating pain.
Everything happens then nothing at all. Hit, crash, bang, smash. He watches the fluff-dotted skyline turn sideways, down, up, and shrieks as copper tears into organs his Anatomy teacher lectured him about once. Somewhere in the back of his mind he imagines his cousin Arthur shake his head.
Or yelling. The golden-haired teen is glad his cousin didn't wait up for him, Arthur would be pissed off about his attendance record being ruined the next day.
After all, the road is slowing down beside him and inking black, then cherry. Alfred's pretty sure he's going to be late to school tomorrow. Maybe for the…entire…day…
Probably be late for graduation too. Great.
Tuesday afternoon, 4:43 p.m
Hetalia High is located between 7th Avenue and an old coffee shop that's been there since 1954, a detail Francis only cares about because he's part of the school's newspaper club. Jotting down note after note as the amazingly drab owner rattles off facts, the teen blows air through his teeth. This was almost as boring as the time Arthur told Francis about his teacup collection. Just a few more questions, then I can leave.
"-and the scenery is the fifteenth best spot in this area," finished Mr. Henley, the owner of the establishment. Francis nods and licks his thumb to separate a new sheet of paper, flips it over. "That's the main information. We also have a greenhouse at the top of the building. Would you like to see it?" Said man mumbles something as he checks what he has so far. "Splendid! Follow me please."
The owner, Mr. Henley, grabs his keys from the counter and tells his sister to watch the store before opening a door at the back. Francis walks after him distractedly and nearly trips on the stairs going up to the roof.
"What?" He blinks, confused.
"Ah, yes. Be careful, these stairs aren't the newest in the neighborhood!" Mr. Henley laughs as he hits the final step at the top. Francis quirks an eyebrow and starts up once more, a bit apprehensive. I really hope I didn't just follow a crazy man-I didn't even hear what he asked. The high school senior grumbles internally.
When he reaches the top Francis is momentarily blinded by the sun beams bouncing off the greenhouse's plastic hull. He squints his eyes, rubs them, and freezes.
A greenhouse. He's agreed to go into a greenhouse.
"The frame was built about four years after the original owner's wife moved in," that blasted coffee shop owner told him, "dandy little thing she was. She had her brothers' from New Orleans come and build it. Any who, I'll show you in."
"Uh, well, I'd love to look Mr. Henley, but unfortunately I've got to get back soon-"
"Nonsense! Surely you have a minute." Just like that, Mr. Henley went behind and pushed Francis gently into the structure before moving ahead. "They're a spectacular thing, flowers. I once thought of opening a floral shop myself, unfortunately I didn't have near the credit." Francis remained rooted to the fractured concrete beneath him and owlishly eyed the premises. Nothing stirred as he stepped in. Okay, well that excuse fell through. But, he wasn't hearing any of them yet, so maybe the thing won't happen.
Yeah, right. Luminescent daffodils fluttered to his left, hydrogens sparkled on the right. No sprinklers were active, thank goodness, he just got these boots. Regardless of the dim plastic, golden rays touched each flower equal and tender; Stains from the last watering were paced out over the ground and lime-colored young vines flowed overhead. That wasn't what caught his eye. This circus's main attraction lay where Mr. Henley was currently standing, the most confident and proud blossom Francis had ever had the pleasure of being given.
Rosacea. The Old Garden Rose. There was a crowd of them, huddled amongst the orchids and poppies; each shone spectacularly with an upside down dress, ebony rising up into crimson and spreading out as if in mid dance. While the violet and amethyst orchids also held beauty, they weren't near the competition. Francis felt a smile poke his cheeks. Ah, he always had a soft spot for roses, well, actually for any type of flower. He hadn't seen some of these in ages- living in one of the most urban places in America did that.
His legs moved like possession taken form and Francis ignored the warning from his mind about the consequences of going near them. Nothing had come about so far, he figured he was in the clear.
Francis stepped up to the raised table, and Mr. Henley started saying something probably important, but the Frenchman only reached out. Grazing a few pedals from the tallest of the bunch, Francis toke in the aroma slowly, his lips upturning, before he noticed one particular rose. It was stunning ruby, much more graceful than the jewel, but its head hung low almost out of shame. Francis felt his smile vanish. There was no physical issue at all with it. Why do you bend like that?
The rose didn't answer. Francis tried again.
"Hey," he whispered, raising the bud gently, "what's the matter, dear? You shouldn't bow in such a way. Come now, don't look so guilty, I'm sure whatever you did can be forgiven." He waited for a moment, then removed his hand slowly.
The rose stood up perfectly straight.
Francis beamed. Well, that's a first-
Then the flower promptly shot up and curled around his wrist and the man yelped. "Not again, dammit!" He hissed as the thorns dug into the flesh; Mr. Henley began to come over with hedge clippers and Francis nearly faints. "NO- I mean no, I've got this! He's just scared." Luckily the shop owner doesn't hear that last bit thanks to a spare vine wrapping around his foot and tripping him.
"Oof!" He went as his stomach collided with the floor. Before Mr. Henley could gather his wits, orchid roots and daffodil lianas grabbed and tangled his legs making it impossible to move. Around Francis, he could already feel the tingle of leaves brushing his shoulders gently, inquisitively. Then suddenly a shadow loomed above Francis's figure and oh, looks like he made the sunflowers sprout up again. Brilliant. This was already looking similar to his previous 'incidents'. Already the structure was being sluggishly taken hostage by the shrubbery.
When a root the width of a baseball falls down in front of Francis, he's had it.
"Enough! You, off, now." The rose wilts but quickly unwinds from his wrist and settles back with his group. "Good. Stay. Release him." He points to Mr. Henley, who thankfully was still out of breath and confused. The plants immediately take heed and released the middle aged man as well as clear a spot for both to walk again.
When all of this is done, Francis closes his eyes and inhales slowly.
Then books it to the stairs. He takes two at a time and nearly plows into the shop's door as he turns to go in. Mr. Henley's sister instantly notices the senior enter and asks something but he's not even paying attention. Francis has the key to his Toyota in his hand by the time he steps up to the crimson door.
Engine roaring, the teen barely avoids a collision with a Mitsubishi as he's backing out of his parking place. Francis then throws it into drive and speeds away-taking note to go down the street that doesn't have trees in it.
Word Count: 1141
Tuesday afternoon, 2:13 p.m
He felt a giggle brush up against his tongue but stayed silent. He didn't want to risk getting caught in this game, and the instructor was one of the few who doesn't frighten easily. However, as he released another airplane and twirls his finger to create a breeze, Ivan's having too much fun watching Eduard scramble to hide the paper menaces. His brother Raivis's reactions made it all worthwhile too; his pupils had shrunk into kiwi seeds.
Ivan eased his cheek into his palm and lazily guided his contraption around the jeans and desks. One row, over. One row, pivot. Mr. Teno commented on the lack of school funding. Ivan was just about to Eduard's seat when Arthur, in the seat directly to the right of his target, reached down into his backpack, just as the aircraft started on the isle. With a dart of an eye and an inhale the plane made a hard right in between two students before Kirkland noticed. Ivan grumbled and quickly blew another short breeze to keep his craft moving.
Damn him. Now he had to circle back around if he wanted to get to Eduard before the end of class. Why was it lately that this student started getting in his way? Surely he had better things to do with his time than disrupt the younger's entertainment.
It was a complicated system; Ivan couldn't risk the toy weaving around full rows without someone's peripheral vision catching it. Straight up in the air was out of the question, obviously. So, he devised the tactic of 'stepping stools'. The plane would go behind Ivan's chair, go up one desk and behind, and repeat the process until it goes directly under the Estonian's seat and lands on his leg.
The sheets are always blank, but Eduard scowls at the newest arrival to his growing collection, and Ivan's lilac eyes narrow. The bi-spectacled man only makes that face when it comes to Braginsky's not-too-comfy-pranks. Looks like he'll have to end this favorite pastime soon if he wants to stay unknown.
The bell rings and Pandora's Box opens. Everyone struggles to gather their things quicker than their classmate and practically become a mass of limbs and notebook paper heading towards the door. The instructor Mr. Teno included. Arthur and Eduard are not part of this, they, like Ivan, take their time; all three have an activity period next, a perk of being a high school senior. Ivan drops his last book in the pack, throws it over his shoulder and calmly makes his way out. In his other hand lay his P.E outfit for basketball.
I wonder what other games I could play with this new power. The teen chuckled as he walked causing a few people around him to back away. Ivan just smiled at them, they backed away further. He turned a corner towards the end of the school where the gym was, and that's went it hit him.
Ah, perhaps he should prank the 'Golden Boy' next? Jones is always meddling in his affairs and acting so arrogant, a few slips during his football game couldn't hurt the man. Too much. Also, if he remembered correctly, the football star hated ghosts and the supernatural.
Well, Ivan is pretty sure he does not count as 'normal' anymore and could be a candidate for such a category-
"LOOK OUT!" Ivan looked behind him, glaring. The command wasn't directed at him, but there was a run-away roller with heavy computer equipment flying down the corridors. It sped past students, almost in a mad frenzy. However, it seemed the people directly in the cabinet's way were the only ones listening; everyone else was laughing at the technician chasing it. The man in question tried desperately to stay close to the moving cupboard but he was losing distance, fast. Ivan wasn't sympathetic. He shouldn't have let it go in the first place. Such tomfoolery was one of the reasons he hated this school.
"Everyone get out of the way! Hey, KID! WATCH OUT!"
Ivan shrugged and began his trek again. Whatever, it already went past him so there was no problem. The high school senior is four steps to the gymnasium door when someone actually screams.
"RAIVIS!" Ivan turned around fully this time and eyed the sight down the hall.
The weak freshman had been pushed directly in the way of the cart by a group of juniors, his ankle twisted painfully in the process. His head had smacked against the tile too, thankfully not that hard. Raivis lay dazed and unable to get up, and no one was close enough, or willing, to get to him in time.
Ivan grumbled, dropped his bag, and quickly looked around to make sure no one was watching him. Swinging his ride side back, the teenager formed a current of air in his palm, before rocking forward and releasing it. The surge flew parallel to the wall closest to Ivan's person before it leapt away, past Raivis, and into the cabinet's left front and back wheels. The cabinet tipped dangerous to its side and veered a hard right missing the freshman by inches. It continued down a different hallway briefly before colliding into the south-east wing.
There are cheers all about the hallway and the technician bends down to help Raivis. Ivan grabs his bag and slings it next to his other backpack, a frown set deep in his mouth. Without another glance to the brunette, the basketball star started down the hallway once more.
Perhaps all is not lost on playing games. After all, there were plenty of other, lower-class options.
From the place where the computer cabinet had fallen over, the windows lay quiet for a moment, then splayed with a dozen cracks.
Tuesday, noon, 12:05 a.m
"YONG SO! GET BACK HERE NOW."
"Nooo brother, you'll hit me."
"I'm going to do worst if I catch you!" Wang Yao hissed as he pursued his wayward brother down the second floor stairs. All he heard in response was a wild cackle. Yao quickly moved around other students while muttering an apology. "Yong So! Give me back my lunch now." Said Korean merely shook his head as he hit the last step and darted for the mess hall.
The school was divided by five wings and looked something close to a star: Its main entrance was situated at the south end, in-between the south-east and south-west wing. The very north wing lead to the gym and locker rooms, the east wing lead to the cafeteria, and the west lead to the art, steel, and wood shops. The whole structure stood four stories tall with a garden at the top and four angry old pigeons guarding it.
So it was with great care Yao came off the steps leading down to the base floor before he bolts towards the younger. The two are sent sprawling into the cafeteria, and Yao managed to grab his Hello Kitty container. The teen grinned in triumph then gasped as both of them crashed into their table. Mei-mei and Leon, the twins of the family, merely moved their plates before impact.
"What took you guys so long?" Leon asked biting into a piece of salmon while watching his siblings catch their breath. "We almost left for the art shop without you."
"I was a little busy," Yao glared at Im Yong So as both took a seat at the table, "sorry Leon. Besides I thought you left with that other kid-oh what was his name-?"
"Emil, Gege. Gosh you sound like such an old man." Mei-mei snickered as she finished off her sandwich.
Yao went red. "I-It's not my fault I have terrible retention!" He sniffed and opened his container. Leon nodded sagely in agreement mimicking their grandma's stance.
"Yeah, Mei-mei, don't be so rude. You know we're supposed to respect our elders now." Leon added, Yong So howled at the remark but quieted when Yao shot him a look.
"Younger generations, no appreciation whatsoever." The eldest Wang teen stated, stiffly, while he turned back to his food and separated his chopsticks. "You're lucky we didn't end up at grandfather's place, Yong So. His tolerance for eccentrics isn't near the distance as mine."
Im Yong So just huffed and changed the subject. "So, still having weird dreams?"
Yao chewed his food contemplatively before swallowing.
"Jeeezzz, Gege, it's been like, a month! Surely they've stopped by now?" Mei-mei wondered out loud but Yao just shook his head.
"No. In fact, they're getting worse." He sighed and winced when he took a bite of slightly burned pork. "Aiyah, I thought I had that thing down by now…"
"Had what down? Oh, and is it the same dream still?" Leon asked.
"Uh, nothing." Yao put the bad side of the meat in an unused part of his lunchbox. "Yeah, it's the same." Same mountain, same lake, same dragon…I'm sure the words haven't changed either.
Im Yong So then clapped his hands. "Well? If you remember more, tell us!" The other made an uncertain sound. He relented when Im Yong So began to give him the Look of Puppies.
"Fine." He grumbled.
Chipped, pricked gravel stone bit into his feet as Yao made his way down the familiar path which was neighbor to a row of tall grass, then a murky, soupy brook. An opal fog around Yao kept most of his destination hidden from him and the light above was too obscured by the condensation. Yao's legs wound in and out of reality when he moved. The teen quickly figured out, like many times before, that he was dreaming. This didn't change anything though as Yao tried to move his limbs and found he possessed no control of his body.
Soon he was taking the stairs up the ashen mountain, away from the forest. Step by step both shrubbery and wind relieved his presence as the mist drew back to earth; a thunderstorm flew on high at the peaks of the hilltop but dared not breathe a rumble. Clouds hung around their father uneasily.
Yao experienced a sort of peace among the smooth ebony stone and sooty glaze however, his feet felt wonderfully warm against the coal. The fiery veins running towards the top of the cliff failed to cause alarm in the senior. Their glowing surfaces reminded him of the old lanterns his father used to light on New Year's. As he got sunburns easily, Yao didn't mind the lack of sunlight either.
The feeling of comfort faded as he passed through the final marble gate; ahead of him lay a great clearing overshadowed by an encircling wall. Flashes of past encounters rushed around the senior's head: Great eyes, limestone teeth, and breath like iron and fury. The scales glistened silver snow and its claws ripped out the earth below its feet.
Yeah, that was the dragon all right, and Yao was heading straight towards it. The creature's ears perked up and the beast bellowed out a growl. To his horror, the teenager's body did not stop advancing until he stood about ten feet away.
"Who are you?" Yao's voice echoed around the enclosed space. Immediately he regretted not trying to stop his mouth sooner, as the giant lizard went up on all fours. Bone-white and spear shaped pupils opened to glare at the boy. However, it merely snorted.
"Insolent child. I am the one whom you have chosen to come too." She answered leaning back onto her hind legs. Yao blinked in confusion at the candid tone. "Um, what does that mean?" Rain forest irises stared back at him silently.
"Your wish, of course."
"I have no recollection of that."
The dragon let out a sigh. "Goodness. I wish this traveling spell didn't erase so much of your memory, I hate having to keep answering this. Oh well, soon it won't be a problem." Yao seemed to accept this even though he didn't, as his head just nodded. The mighty beast before him gestured to a stone strangely shaped like a chair.
"Sit. I will explain what I can." The senior did as he was told. "Good. Now, you should remember this conversation, as it's almost time to take on your duty. "
Yao paused for a moment to a surprisingly silent table.
"-And? What happened?" Im Yong So sat dangerously close to the edge of his seat. Mei-mei and Leon had decided to listen in again on Yao's weird tale. Said man scanned all of their faces and let out a breath.
"Nothing. I woke up." He grimaced as a chorus of groans met his ears.
"Yaaoooo, you were close to actually figuring this thing out! You can't just wake up when you feel like it!"
Yao stared at Mei-mei. "What?" She blinked. He just shook his head.
"Why does it matter? It's just a silly dream anyways." Leon rolled his eyes and resumed eating.
"Riiiight, like you aren't the most superstitious of us all. Well, that's further than you've ever gotten before." Im Yong So remarked and grabbed his tray, stood, and left the table to go throw away his leftovers. Yao just glared.
"Look, let's just drop it, okay?" The twins giggled and all three followed Im Yong So's suit and left for the art shops.
Yao trailed behind the others while checking his notes for Economics. He silently thanked whatever god up there that his siblings let the discussion go- or maybe it wasn't such a great thing. Well, at least now the eldest child didn't have to worry about them doing any investigative 'work' on him. The last thing Yao needed was to accidentally burn one of them in surprise. Unfortunately Im Yong So and Leon, the pranksters of the family, made that quite difficult.
Above him the lights flickered for a second, then settled. Yao hummed. I should get a fundraiser together to fix those bulbs. He made a note in his journal. Distracted, he ended up crashing straight into another person. "Ah! Oh, I'm terribly sorry-"Yao rubbed his head and looked up, only to stop dead in his sentence.
"No, no, it's perfectly fine-oh, Yao. Hello." Kiku, his slightly younger brother, addressed dusting off his shirt, "I, uh, hope nothing is harmed?" It took the other a second to respond.
"No, I'm…fine. Thank you." Before Kiku could get another word in Yao scrambled for his fallen books and rushed past him. "Sorry! I have to get to class." He didn't hear his brother's answer as the older he hurried down the hall. Smooth, Yao, real smooth.
"Duty?" The human inquired, one leg resting on top of the rock and the other on the ground, "What does this have to do with my wish?"
The dragon rumbled at the back of her throat.
"What is it you want most, Wang Yao?" She fired back at the teenager. "Isn't there a reason you came up here?"
Yao began nervously, "Well yes, I wanted to know why I've been having these strange dreams lately. And, why I suddenly have the ability to manipulate fire-"The creature shook its head.
"Those are inquires, not requests. Your wish is why you're here in this position in the first place."
Yao felt a bit stressed. "But what did I wish for?" He stood. "Surely you recall my first venture here, dragon?" The lizard growled at the name. "Sorry."
"I have no idea. Once you become who you're meant to be, you will remember. Until then, don't hesitate to call for element assistance. God knows you boys will need it." At these words the sky began turning dark, the black crept in from the entrance of the clearing. Something pulled at Yao from above, something shrill and loud.
Oh, he was waking up. Dammit. He'll end up forgetting everything again. Then, the dragon's words caught up to him.
"Wait," he began, but the beast was already beginning to fade, "what do you mean by 'you boys?!"
Nothing spoke for a moment and Yao frowned. Then, something in cold ebony: it might've been his imagination, but Yao could've sworn he heard laughter.
"Indeed. What do I mean?" She sang.
Tuesday morning, 9:23 a.m
My record is not worth this. If he gets sludge in his socks one more time Arthur will steal a car and drive back to the city. He won't think twice, it's not the first time he's done it- well, publically. Privately he took his uncle's car all the time on the property. But that doesn't matter, because the rain is pelting hard on all of the advanced marine biology class, it's windy as hell, and this teen is on all levels of done. Though, perhaps not as bad as Francis, who learned they were going out to the wetlands and decided to play hooky for two hours. Whatever.
Arthur Kirkland readjusted his hood for the fifteenth time that morning and checked the sky once more. Darting his vision around, Arthur watches the rain sprinkle for a bit before lifting his hand into the falling drops. After a few seconds he swore. Again. It's happening again. He brought down the hand.
"Damn it all." He mutters. Kiku, who is right beside him raises an eyebrow but Arthur just shakes his head. Well, this certainly explains why he couldn't get a shower this morning. Their tour guide motions for the group to move forward, talking about sort of bird that lived in the area, Arthur guesses. His star-skull boots trudged through long grass and murky water.
Or, they would, if the H2O actually touched him. As a precaution Arthur took care not to step directly into a puddle, lest everyone see the liquid completely jump out of his way or around. If it didn't shift, the water would hold him up, which was equally bad; Arthur situated himself at the back of the line, out of site from the class. Of course, that's when Kiku just had to follow him.
The quiet man was probably concerned about Arthur's insolence. Last time he got this way he had dented Alfred's car something fierce. Both got into such a bad scrap Alfred's mother refused to let them in until they A) apologized to each other and B) fixed the dent. As predicted the two hadn't made up immediately, so they spent the night at their friend's houses. Arthur stayed with Kiku, Alfred stayed with Toris.
I should probably reassure him. "Hey Kiku?" Arthur spoke flexing his hand.
"Yes?" He inquired and put away the manga he was reading, Arthur almost scoffed in amusement. He cleared his throat instead.
"I, uh, I'm not in a terrible mood. So, you know, don't call Alfred to get me please." This didn't seem to quell any fears however, if anything, Kiku looked more alarmed.
"Why? Are you two fighting again? What did you break this time?" He asked hurriedly. Arthur shushed him before the teachers heard his uneasy voice.
"Nothing! We didn't break-wait no, we weren't fighting in the first place."
Kiku frowned. "Then, what is the matter? I admit, I fail with emotional issues, but I still can listen Arthur." The teen flinched at the hurt undertones and conceded.
"I know, but really, I'm fine. I suppose I'm a bit stressed right now with the upcoming concert." It wasn't completely false, the guitarist had been pretty bitter about the event. Hopefully Kiku's perception skills dwindle in the rain. The discreet brunette scanned him for a good minute and nodded. He offered a hand on Arthur's shoulder.
"I'm sorry. Would you like to come over later? We have some new kinds of tea you can try." Arthur chuckled.
"Thank you," A puddle then slipped completely from under him as they walked, "I may take you up on that offer." The other gives a reserved smile before turning to the discussion ahead of them. Arthur watches Kiku for a moment to make sure he is actually paying attention, then he goes back to his musings.
I wonder if this stupid event is thanks to my previous attempts at black magic. But then, I should be ecstatic right now, not annoyed. Then again I wasn't shooting for element control. Far from it, Arthur had been trying to curse someone to smell like goats for a week. Hardly a call for the ability to move liquid, or to avoid it. When another pond escaped his sole's shadow, Arthur suddenly stopped walking. Hold on: He couldn't take a shower right now, no liquid or soap would touch him. Technically this problem started on Sunday, a week after he tried that spell. It was also quite obvious that the person he intended (Alfred) to curse wasn't suffering from anything.
Arthur felt a headache coming on.
Oh hell, did I really jinx myself? He hit his face with a palm and groaned. Terrific. No way in Christ's house was he going to be allowed in the band's garage now; Matthias would bolt the door shut before he made it to the stairs. Argh, this couldn't be happening-he needed to practice, dammit! The concert is on Saturday.
"I am never getting advice from that witch's shop ever again." Arthur mumbled into his hand. He straightened up and was about to jog to the class when something moved in the grass, then coughed.
The teen yelped and fell back onto perfectly dry soil. "W-who's there?" Nice, Arthur, way to direct the killer straight to you. Alfred's voice lectured. Shut it, Al. The rustling continued and Arthur nearly shrieked when-
-a small child fell out of the bushes and onto his leg, giggling. The little curly, blond boy unfolded from his ball position and stared, upside down, at the man. Neither said a word for a good five minutes. Then said kid grinned brightly and waved.
"HI! Who are you, what are you doing here? My name's Coren. Are you okay? You landed in a puddle. Oh but you're dry." Arthur seemed to snap back into reality at that last comment.
"Uh," think of something you git, "I missed it. Wait, me? My name is Arthur Kirkland. Why are you here? Where the hel-heck are your parents?" His think eyebrows furrowed as he got up. "You shouldn't be out here alo-"
The child only pouted and crossed his arms. "Hey, you didn't answer my question! I go first! Are you the fairy-man Mana was talking about?" He questioned impatiently. The teenager stumbled on his words. Who the hell does this kid think he is? He sounds like Peter! The nice stranger-phase wore off and was replaced with 'big brother' mode.
Arthur shook his head. "Hey, no. I'm asking the questions here. Why are you out here in the wetlands? Come on, we've got to tell the tour guide you're here-"As he reached for Coren however, the younger just laughed and jumped out of his reach and into a nearby tree. "I like this game!" He exulted. Arthur's eye twitched. "You didn't answer my other question, so I'm staying up here until you do!"
The blond man just blinked. "What?" Coren rolled his eyes.
"Are. You. The. Fairy. Man. You know, wings in the back? The water moves away from you so you have to be!" Arthur winced. So he did see that. Not good. The kid still hadn't answered why he was here in the first place-maybe he was acting? Was there someone else nearby that's making him do this? Or perhaps it was just a silly game gone wild. If so, Arthur will have to play along in order to get Coren to come down. The teen looked up at the kid again, warily.
"…If I said yes, will you come with me to the office?" He ventured prudently.
Coren beamed and nodded. "Promise?" Arthur asked.
"Yes! So, are you?!"
"…Yeah, that was me. I'm the fairy-man. Now, would you please come down from there?"
Hand-in-hand, Coren and Arthur began to catch up to the senior's class. The pale-skinned child seemed to be on cloud nine on learning about Arthur, though he refused to tell why. Arthur still possessed suspicions about a kidnapper nearby, and he kept a hand close to his pocket-knife. As the minutes ticked by however, he soon relinquished those thoughts. He focused on another issue.
"Hey kid-"Arthur was cut off, "My name is Coren!""-sorry. Coren, before we go into the office, you need to know something." He stopped the both of them and kneeled down to said child's height. "You cannot tell those people what I did, alright? I mean it. They aren't really…accepting of the fairy people, you know? I'm entrusting this secret to you, now, instead of taking it back." The boy's eyes were close to dinner plates; he started bouncing up and down.
"Really?! You'd trust me?" Arthur nodded, a small smile on his face. I have to. Otherwise I'll be flying back to England before the days out. "Wow. Okay, I won't let you down, Sir Kirkland." Coren said in a Very Serious Voice and Arthur almost fell over in snickers. Not in mocking, though. The kid really did remind him of Peter. He stood his full height with a half concealed smile and turned to open the door into the building.
"Good. Let's go."
Tuesday morning, 6:50 a.m.
Curtains waltzed together as dewy breezes swept through Jones' cerulean and maroon room. Beams of light flew down to a chrome-colored carpet layered with Alfred's faded car rug and sunny orange reflected off the two basketballs that had made their home here. Nothing stirred. 'Sleeping beauty' laid unperturbed to the world though his phone kept ringing every five minutes and his mother was currently hitting the kitchen ceiling, his floor, with the home's best saucepan.
"ALFRED, YOU ARE GOING TO BE LATE." Amelia Jones hollered through the dry-wall and flooring. "GET. UP." Alfred muttered something in his sleep, frowned, and turned over. He wasn't ready to get up dammit. It was prom night and he, instead of Francis, had finally been crowned Prom King. Not Homecoming. There were girls flocking to his arms, hamburgers were falling out of the sky, and for some weird reason Arthur smelled like goats and was being avoided. Oh, and Braginski was tangled in multiple wires and tripping all over the place. It was great.
That is until Arthur came in and flung the covers off the other, grabbed the sheets, and quite literally heaved Alfred out of bed. The golden boy sprang up with a yelp as his back hit the mat and the teenager threw arms out to balance himself. When the blond settled he glared at his smirking cousin across the room.
"Hell hound." He grumbled with squinted eyes and Arthur rolled his own.
"Hey, I don't sound like one when sleeping." With that he strutted out of the dwelling to where Peter was attempting not to fall over laughing; He choked and hastily followed his brother when Alfred's steel gaze flashed at him. He sighed when they were gone and reached behind him for his glasses, named Texas. Fitting them quickly, he picked up his phone and clothes, and headed for the bathroom with a yawn. Whatever, I'll just nap in Economics anyway.'