Hetalia: Young Again: (3/13)
Title: Young Again
Author: Me
Word Count: Around 1000
Rating: PG-13, mostly for Iggy's mouth
Warning: kid!Fic. Enormous amounts of fluff, and Lots of bad words from our Englishman.
Characters: England, America (No Pairings)
Chapter 1: http://whitefang232.livejournal.com/3331.htmlChapter 2: http://whitefang232.livejournal.com/3731.html
"Arthur!" Alfred walked towards the tiny Brit, which was the absolute wrong thing to do. Arthur gave a small cry of panic and dashed out the door.
Alfred cursed and followed him, once again marveling at how fast the Brit was. Even he was having a bit of trouble catching up, and he was America…
Thankfully, Arthur didn't seem to know the house, and was a little hesitant in his decision process, so Alfred could easily follow him. Arthur led him up three flights of stairs, and seeing one more stairwell up to the attic, started up as fast as his little legs could carry him. Alfred rounded the corner to see the attic door slam shut, and swore. He tried the door, but Arthur had somehow propped something against it. Alfred could have easily broken the door down…but considering how hyped-up Arthur's nerves were now, that would not be the best idea. He didn't want to appear to be exactly as Arthur was picturing.
"Arthur?"
No sound came. Alfred sighed, and settled himself by the attic to wait for Arthur to decide to come out. In the meantime, Alfred took out his cell phone to call his other older brother. Dialing the number, he sat back against the wall and listened to the rings.
"Hello, eh?"
"Mattie! What up, dude?"
"Oh…you know, nothing really important-"
"Good, cause I need you over at Arthur's place like…now."
"What? Something wrong?"
"…Kinda? Look, just get your butt over here and I'll explain later, dude. Iggy's probably listening to my call, and that's probably not for the best. As fast as you can, kay?"
"…I'm really confused. But…alright…"
"Mattie, you're the best."
Alfred shut his phone shut and shoved it back in his pocket. Something about himself was scaring Arthur, who knows what the hell that is, but if he couldn't calm little Arthur down enough to at least talk some sort of sense into him, then the only thing he could do was call upon the gentlest person he knew.
In the meantime, he could hear some rustling in the attic. Arthur must be going through his old stuff (Or new stuff, considering his memory wasn't exactly modern right now). Even though Alfred knew Arthur had some nasty memories up there, there couldn't be anything there that Arthur would recognize.
Half an hour past. Alfred was pretty close to hitting his head on the wall for entertainment.
"You know, you're smaller than I imagined, Artie." Alfred said out loud to the little boy in the attic. He didn't expect any response, nor did he receive any.
"But hell, you've still got that stubborn streak…Heh, I guess those things never change."
He toyed with his phone, flipping it open and shut.
"Artie, what's got you so worked up? Come on, man…you're just a kid. Nothing could have really happened to make you so hellishly neurotic. I mean, I know you've had issues with Scotland and the rest of them, but honestly, you're just a kid-"
A crash of breaking china sounded from inside. Alfred scrambled to his feet and pounded on the door again.
"Arthur? Arthur!"
"Leave me alone! You know nothing! You hear me? Nothing! Fuck…FUCK!" He sounded like he was cursing in pain.
"Artie! You okay?"
"I'm fine! Leave me the fuck alone!" Arthur taught his brother a few new words that would make even the most profound curser's ears burn before falling silent again. Alfred leaned against the door. Shit, Mattie was taking forever…
"Arthur…"
"Just…go away…" Arthur's voice was much quieter.
Alfred slumped in front of the door again. Papers were rustling in the next room, and he vaguely wondered what Arthur had found this time.
The doorbell rang and Alfred leapt up and ran downstairs to answer the door. His own image was on the other side, smiling gently. His giant polar bear was hugged tightly in his arms.
"Hey, brother?"
"Mattie! You so couldn't have come at a better time!"
"Where's Arthur? From your tone…you didn't want him to know that I'm-"
"Yeah…about Arthur…He's not exactly himself at the moment…"
"….eh?"
Alfred grabbed his brother's arm and towed him upstairs to the attic door. Motioning him to be as quiet at possible, he knocked on the door.
"Arthur?"
No answer.
"…Artie…Look, I'm sorry for scaring you…"
Matthew glanced at his brother in silent confusion.
"…Artie? I'm not going to hurt you…I would never hurt you…"
A muffled sob came from inside the attic, and Alfred's eyes widened.
"Artie? Artie…Artie, I'm coming in."
He turned the handle on the door and with more force than usual, jerked it open. He motioned for Matthew to follow him in.
Arthur had propped a giant box of memories against the door, which was quite impressive considering his size. Alfred glanced around the darkened room, looking for his brother's tiny form.
A shaking pile of black caught his attention in the corner of the room. Alfred made his way slowly over to it, shadowed five steps away by Matthew. He ended up nearly a step away from Artie, before the child's shivering stopped. Arthur was surrounded by piles of old pieces of parchment filled with writing.
Alfred reached out hesitantly, and touched Arthur's shoulder. Arthur spun around quickly, his eyes wide and red-rimmed. His tear-stained face wasn't one of anger or fear for once…it was filled with hurt beyond words. He looked at Alfred as if begging for some sort of comfort…but scrubbed at his eyes and stood up quickly. Alfred noticed he was clutching his arm tightly to his side.
"I-I thought I told you to stay out…"
"Yeah, but-"
"I can take care of myself! What part of that do you not bloody understand?'"
Arthur wasn't staring at Alfred's face, but at the hand that he still held on his small shoulder. Alfred simply began to rub his shoulder and back gently in small circles. The boy looked up at Alfred's face, as if he were about to cry again, and Alfred smiled.
That just made the little nation's lip quiver, and he tore away from Alfred's touch and stumbled away straight into Matthew. He looked up at the new nation and froze. Matthew was looking at him in shock and wonder, but pulled himself together quicker than Alfred had.
"Arthur…"
Artie looked from one nation to the other, stock still in his half-fright.
"N-No…y-you're just trying to fool me…you have to-you have to be working for them. Scotland and the others sent you…there's no other explanation…"
Arthur was slowly backing out of the room as he stuttered, and then turned and ran once again from their sight.
Matthew made to follow, but Alfred called out to him to stop.
"Alfred! He could get away, we can't let that happen!"
"I locked all the doors…it's not like he could reach the handles anyway. He's going to have to stay in the house, where we can keep an eye on him."
"Al…how did this happen?"
Alfred kneeled, looking at all the scribbled parchments littering the floor.
"Artie wanted to prove to me he could do magic, and…well…it backfired…"
"…you were goading him again, eh?"
"I always do! I wasn't expecting him to get so worked up about it this time!"
Alfred picked up a few of the old-as-dirt papers.
"…Is he going to be able to get back to normal?"
Alfred looked back at his brother, concerned.
"I really have no fucking clue, dude. Maybe it'll wear off? Hopefully?"
"None of us can do magic…"
"That's why that's pretty much all we can hope for." Alfred turned back to the papers. Matthew joined him on the floor.
The American's eyes jolted wide and he grasped the paper tighter.
"Matthew…look at this."
The Canadian glanced over Alfred's shoulder.
"Ah, those were the papers Arthur was looking at, right?"
"They're letters, Mattie. All addressed to him."
"Who would be writing to him?"
"…They're from his brothers…"
"Scotland and the others?"
Alfred rubbed his eyes and sat back, trying to keep himself from ripping the parchment to pieces.
"What the hell is this…"