Day 6

To say that Arthur was dreading the school day was an understatement. There was no right word in the English language that could explain the great bout of dismay that swirled in his gut like a cyclone when getting out of his car and seeing Alfred F. Jones standing on the staircase to the entrance of the school, waving like a moron.

Waving at him.

Arthur mentally groaned as he gripped his book bag's strap and walked over to the ungodly cheery blonde. Alfred grinned down at Arthur as he came into view, both heading up the concrete steps into the schoolyard.

"You look awfully snazzy today," Alfred commented with a snicker at the school's uniform against Arthur's figure. Arthur withheld a sneer.

And you look just awful, Arthur wanted to spit back, but refrained. Instead, he took the more mature method and calmly started making his way towards his classroom. He may have to be friends with the boy, but that didn't mean he had to talk to him.

"Thank you," said Arthur blandly. "But I do believe you are wearing yours wrong." Arthur eyed the way Alfred was dressed.

No doubt Alfred's family stuck their son in this particular school because it was the most refined school in the city. It was terribly strict and grueling in its courses as well as the social behavior and presentation of its students. Why, if someone so much as thought about smocking a joint or grinding in any fashion, they would be removed of the school's records and expelled. Because of its harsh nature, the uniforms were ugly and conservative.

The girls were forced to wear white dress shirts with a blue blazer over it, accompanied with knee length black skirts with black dress shoes. The boys were stuck with white button-up shirts with blue vests over it, black ties to be worn at all times. Black khakis and black dress shoes were to be the bottoms of the boy's uniforms, no scuffs on the shoes or jeans of any kind allowed.

Arthur, being the proper student, wore his uniform as instructed. Alfred, however…

Alfred's shirt was untucked and his white dress shirt's sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone and his tie was loosely looped around his neck, looking sloppy and unkempt. Alfred chose to keep his vest unbuttoned, and his pants were loose around the waist enough so that the top of his boxers were showing if he decided to stretch his arms over his head.

Which he did.

Arthur averted his gaze quickly, frowning at the foliage outside of the perfectly white buildings. He vaguely heard Alfred laugh beside him, tossing his book bag over his shoulder lazily.

"This school is lame. I thought I'd do some trendsetting while I'm at it."

"What a fascinating idea," muttered Arthur, speeding up his pace. Alfred did not seem to take the hint at his clipped words and silent demeanor. He just kept babbling on and on and on and– ugh, Arthur wasn't even sure all of those sounds coming out of Alfred's mouth were words anymore. He never knew he could be so happy when arriving outside of his calculus class.

"Class is about to start," Arthur instructed, spinning on his heels to regard Alfred with a bored stare. Alfred stopped his yammering and blinked, finally noticing that they were outside of a classroom. He smiled and stuffed his hands into his pockets, nodding at Arthur.

"Alright. I'll catch you after class then. We'll walk home together."

Arthur winced, crinkling his nose. "I don't walk to school. I have my father take me."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Dude, it's like four blocks from our street."

"Twelve," Arthur corrected, tapping his shoe against the tiles of the hallway.

"Fine. I'll see you after school then. We'll have a study group or something."

"As if you study," Arthur grumbled under his breath, smiling quickly at Alfred when he saw confusion on the blonde's face. "Lovely, then. If you don't mind," he faded off, gesturing towards the door. Alfred laughed and placed his thumb and pointer finger together to indicate that he understood.

"Gotcha. Have fun in…uh…"

"Calculus."

Alfred recoiled in disgust. "Sucks to be you."

Arthur sighed heavily as he watched Alfred turn and walk away into the crowd of students, opening the door and heading for his regular seat. This was horrible. Terribly, dreadfully horrible.

Day 9

Not surprisingly, Alfred was a social butterfly. He adapted quite well to his new school and new surroundings. Arthur was only lucky that he had but one class with the boy, and from what he saw, Alfred was the kid that blurted out answers and talked during the lectures.

Where Alfred fit in perfectly well with the student population who thought he was the most amusing thing ever birthed, the teachers and faculty hated him. He was loud and didn't pay attention and disrupted their lessons. It had only been four days and Alfred had already spent two of them in detention.

Arthur was delighted with this fact, for he wouldn't be bothered after school with Alfred and his shenanigans. He had a 50/50 shot of being Alfred free at his home.

Unfortunately, today wasn't one of those days.

"And so he started to punch me, right? And I was all 'Stop hitting my face!' but the dude didn't listen. So I got him in a headlock and pushed him on the grass when he wouldn't stop kicking at me. And he was all 'Get off me, get off me!' with his arms in the air," Alfred said animatedly, chewing the cookies Arthur's mother had laid out in the living room as Arthur nodded absentmindedly and continued writing down his math assignment.

"Uh-huh. Uh-huh."

Alfred bounced on his spot on the sofa and made a punching motion in the air with a smile, eyes sparkling vivaciously. "But like I was gonna get off him. He was punching me in the face. You'll never guess what he did next. Go on, guess."

Arthur wiped some crumbs Alfred spit out in his story off of his face, flipping the page of his math book. "Uh-huh. Uh-huh."

"Arthur, are you even listening?"

Arthur's head popped up as he looked at Alfred from across the coffee table in the middle of the room. "Huh? Oh, yes, yes. I heard you."

Alfred swallowed and took a long drink from his glass of milk. "Could you guess what happened next?"

"Er… She kicked you in the marbles and broke up with you."

"No. I'm talkin' about a guy here."

"Oh. Terribly sorry. So many of your stories end that way that it's impossible to tell," Arthur said offhandedly, going back to writing down something from his book. Alfred grinned at him and took another cookie from the plate on the table, the spring light dancing across his face from the open window beside them, giving a rather grand view of Alfred's house.

"The guy licked me."

Arthur's head sprung up once again, eyes large and disbelieving. "Pardon?"

Alfred nodded excitedly when seeing some sort of reaction out of Arthur besides his usual apathetic responses. He'd been living next door to him for nearly a week now and Arthur rarely ever showed interest, especially with Alfred's stories. "Yeah! I was totally surprised! He just bent his head to the side and licked my face."

Arthur's mouth opened slightly, furrowing his brow as his pencil stopped moving. Maybe he should've been paying attention to the beginning of the story. "Some bloke… put his tongue on your face?"

"It was nasty," Alfred said, face scrunching up as he recalled the incident. Arthur looked baffled, wondering who of all people would willingly lick Alfred.

"And you… let him lick you," Arthur deadpanned.

"Hell no I didn't. I let go of him like he fuckin' wanted me to."

"So you gave into his demands," Arthur said, letting out a breath as his frown resumed his face. How typical. Alfred looked at him quizzically, not liking Arthur's deduction.

"Nu-uh. He just wanted me to let go of him. I pushed him away for licking my fuckin' face and then I smacked him upside the head. You don't steal a guy's hat and then lick their face when they try to take it back. That's just not right."

Arthur shook his head and went back to doing his homework. How typical of Alfred's stories to end with something childish and pointless. Most of the time it was about his poor abilities to deal with girls, but this one seemed to be another brawl over something trivial.

As if on cue, Arthur's mother walked into the room, taking Alfred's attention solely off Arthur and resting it on the woman smiling at them both. "Afternoon, Mrs. K. How's it going?" Alfred asked politely.

Arthur's mother smiled kindly at the blonde, bending down to take the empty glasses of milk and cookie plate. "I'm fine. How about yourself, Alfred?"

"Just dandy," he chirped. "Thanks for the snacks. You're a better cook than my ma."

She chuckled and glanced out of the large window that took up most of the living room's front wall at the small red house directly across the street. She paused before keeping that smile sturdy on her lips. "How is the move going?" she asked.

Alfred leaned back against the couch, stretching his legs like a cat in front of him, before playing absentmindedly with one of the buttons on his opened vest. "It's fine. We're settling in pretty well, My folks still are asking when you guys will come over for dinner and stuff, but it's no big deal. I just tell them you're busy and they be quiet."

Mrs. Kirkland hesitantly smiled before breathing easy and putting the glasses on the empty plate in her hands. "I'm sure we can make some arrangements to get together again."

Arthur perked up and stared outwardly at his mother who caught the brief flash of panic on his face. "You can tell your parents they can come here any time they like." Arthur paused before going back to his homework, the fluttering in his chest dying down as the problem was fixed. He didn't want to stay a prolonged period of time in that house anymore. It was a wonder how Alfred was still even in one piece.

"I'll do that," Alfred grinned, dimples poking into his cheeks all the while. Mrs. Kirkland ruffled his hair lightly before vacating the room. Alfred let his eyes linger where Arthur's mother disappeared before looking back at Arthur diligently working. "Your mom's really nice."

"Uh-huh."

Alfred placed his arms behind his head like a pillow before looking out the window at his house, the lawn now mowed since his father took over. He wanted to make the house look as nice as possible to the neighbors as quickly as he could. Alfred was quiet for a while, just looking outside in thought, as Arthur scratched at his paper with his pencil, numbers littering the page. After a moment Alfred spoke up, mind elsewhere.

"I'm not sure if I like living here yet."

Arthur paused in his writing, staring at the empty equation where his pencil stopped. He looked up at Alfred whose blue eyes shined in the warm sunlight of the day.

"I don't know if it's the neighborhood or the house or what. I just feel… out of place somewhere," Alfred continued, voice devoid of any emotion. He just sounded like he was pondering something. Blue eyes glanced down to Arthur who watched him tepidly from his spot in front of the coffee table. "You know?"

Arthur looked away, regarding the red house with a sense of reluctance. "Moving is always hard."

Alfred pursed his lips and shrugged. "I guess. I just don't feel anything yet. Usually I get a feel to a new place real fast, but I don't feel anything in there. It's like it's just a house and not a home. I don't know how to say it." Alfred smiled at Arthur who appeared to be keeping a secret as he frowned slightly as remained silent.

"Give it time. I'm sure you'll realize it's a… nice place to live."

Alfred raised his eyebrows. "Serious?"

Arthur felt his throat constricting somewhat as he glanced away, quickly going back to his work.

"As a heart attack."

Day 13

"Come on! It's fun. You can't tell me video games aren't fun," Alfred persisted, walking beside the annoyed Briton. Arthur's mother had somehow learned that Alfred walked to school every day and insisted that Arthur accompany him today. He grumbled under his breath, hating getting roped into these things.

"I don't like them," he lied.

Alfred stuck his lower lip out in a childish pout as he crinkled his eyebrows. "Aw, don't be a party pooper. It's just one round. I promise I'll leave you alone after one round."

"I said that I don't like them," said Arthur again, feeling his palms sweating. There was no way in hell that he was going into Alfred's house to hang out. He could stand Alfred at school. He could stand him on the weekends. He could even stand him at his own house. But there was no way on heaven or earth that Arthur was going to stand being in Alfred's house.

He glanced up when the overbearing red house came into view down the street. It still gave him the shivers.

"You're no fun." Alfred stuffed his hands into his pockets and sighed heavily through his nose. "I can't get anyone to play them with me. I asked that guy, what's his name. The kid with the dark hair and weird food– Kiko something."

"Kiku," corrected Arthur.

"Yeah, Kiku. He seems to like this kind of stuff. But he keeps saying some other time. It's kind of a confidence killer," Alfred mumbled.

"People have responsibilities, Alfred," Arthur supplied, voice thick with irritation that Alfred seemed unable to detect. He just didn't have a way to tell Alfred that his house was a death trap to all who stepped foot inside. He didn't have the heart to say it. Arthur would let him continue on without a care in the world. At least that way Alfred wouldn't think people were keeping some horrible secret from him.

If he wanted to know why his house was repelling people, he could look it up himself.

Shifting his feet awkwardly when they stood in front of Alfred's lawn, his father in the driveway fixing up something in his car, Arthur scratched the back of his neck and regretted what he was going to say.

"If- why me? If you would like to bring them over, we can play some at my house," Arthur reluctantly said, peeking up at Alfred hesitantly. He froze when seeing how excited the American looked, seeming relieved that Arthur would suggest such a thing.

"Really?"

Arthur pursed his lips and nodded quickly. Yes, sure, whatever. Just don't look at him with such cheerful eyes. It made him uncomfortable as something jumped for half a second in his chest before it went away.

Alfred laughed, patting Arthur's shoulder before he slid his book bag off his shoulder and handed it to the Englishman. "Okay. Stay right here. I'm going to grab something real quick."

Arthur stumbled at the energy Alfred had when shoving the bag at his chest, before rolling his eyes and watching as the blonde bounded away. He stood awkwardly outside of Alfred's house, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He looked up to see Mr. Jones watching him, smiling and waving at him. Arthur smiled back as best he could before Alfred's father went back to working on whatever he was doing with his car.

After a long time, Arthur began to grumble under his breath, looking around the neighborhood with a sense of boredom. How long did it take to grab a couple of games?

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Alfred emerged from his house, waltzing across his lawn with two games in his hand.

"Sorry. My ma wanted me to finish up the dishes real quick. The garbage disposal has been clogged and the sink gets really gross," Alfred said, wiping his hands against the material of his pants. Arthur knew about the disposal in the house. Supposedly one of the previous neighbors accidentally wasn't watching their kid when it threw a toy Hotwheel into the sink. The thing had been busted ever since.

"It's no problem," Arthur said easily, just happy that he didn't have to stand too close to this house anymore.

As Alfred began to approach and reach for his bag, Arthur heard a groaning noise in the distance. He glanced up to see the car inching backwards slowly off of the kickstand, the stand groaning as it started to bend under the pressure. Before he could say anything, though, Alfred's dad gave a shout of surprise, the car completely slipping off of the hold the stand had and hitting the cement. The abrupt motion sent a piece of the bent and shattered engine stand flying off to the side, broken from the car's weight.

Arthur yelled, falling backwards on his ass while he watched Alfred jump, feet stuttering backwards as the chunk of metal flew past his face, nearly nicking him. He landed on the grass, staring wide-eyed at Arthur mirroring his expression.

"Are you boy's alright? Useless car!" Alfred's father screamed, kicking at the tires of his vehicle and complaining about cheap equipment that couldn't even do what it was designed to do.

Arthur felt his heart in his throat as his knees shook, hesitantly looking across the lawn to where the broken piece of metal lay on the grass. Alfred followed his vision before sitting up properly, touching his throat in shock. He looked back at Arthur before starting to laugh, shaking his head. Arthur remained silent, still frozen in shock, as Alfred ran a hand over his face.

"What the heck was that?" Alfred laughed. "One inch closer and my head woulda been lying at your feet."

Arthur choked on his air, stomach churning uncomfortably. He didn't notice when Alfred stood up, nor did he notice when the teenager pulled him to his own feet. Only when Alfred started waving his hands in front of his face did Arthur snap out of his shocked stupor.

"Dude, you okay?" Alfred asked, seeming a little bit worried.

"I…" Arthur continued to stare at the chunk of metal from the broken engine stand. He looked back up at Alfred, eyes disbelieving. "You almost died," he breathed.

"Died?" Alfred reiterated with a grin. "I wouldn't go that far. Maybe I would've got cut or something, but it's not like anything serious."

Arthur continued to stare.

"… So… are we gonna go to your house or what?"

Arthur slowly nodded, picking up the book bags off of the cement and waving at Alfred's dad who was apologizing for his crappy automobile. As Arthur was guided back across the street to his house, still in a daze from almost witnessing a possible decapitation, he felt a chill go up his spine.

Arthur glanced over his shoulder on his porch, looking wearily at the house with shadows from the afternoon splaying across the front, almost giving it a grinning appearance. And with the wind picking up and rustling the branches of the trees beside it, Arthur could've sworn it sounded like the house was laughing.