hetalia_kink | Hetalia Kink meme part 15

Hetalia Kink meme part 15

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hetalia kink meme
part 15

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Ahh yeah that is the super duper delayed Christmas reveal for 2009 LOL...just found the time to finish it now...
clean wallpaper version HERE

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Welkin was funnily U-shaped; I remember days racing through endlessly long corridors, trying to get from one class to another. The left and the right arms of the U respectively formed the West and the Right Wings, while the bottom of the U housed the teachers’ Residence from the third storey and above, the Main Hall on the second, and the Dining Hall and the Front Hall on the first. Welkin was a monstrosity, but an elegant monstrosity. In my younger days, I fancied it as a castle built by a king with a very bad taste: while the seven storeys of red bricks and snaking ivies gleamed under the golden sun, the U shape was not only unflattering, it was also horrendously unpractical. To transfer from the top floor West Wing to the top floor of Left Wing or vice versa, a student had to go down twelve flights of stairs, cross the dewy plains of the Field, and climb up another ordeal of twelve flights of stairs. This was aggravated by the fact that only the Front Hall was accessible to students on a normal basis, which meant when it was raining, a student could only transfer between Wings through the Front Hall on the first storey. Only when I was about to leave Welkin did I learn that the design was very much intentional, and that Welkin had turned out to be what it was supposed to be and serve its function well.

However, activities in Welkin rarely touched the West Wing. The first three storeys of the East Wing housed an array of function rooms and classes. The Juniors lived in the two topmost storeys, and the Sophomores in the two storeys beneath. The West Wing was where the Welkin clinic was, and it was a clinic with wards that took up five storeys by itself, leaving the bottom two for the Seniors. The West Wing quickly became a mysterious territory for the majority of the student population, since Nurse Eliza kept her mouth shut regarding the content of her wards, and the Seniors, if they knew anything at all, were never keen on sharing secrets. The Seniors, for as long as I could remember and for reasons I could later understand, when I turned sixteen and officially became a Senior, were a brooding bunch.

However, my batch was relatively special, and while occasionally it was not a very good thing to be special—in fact, here it was plaintively heart breaking—it did get most of us into the Wards when we were still Juniors.

The first person that I knew to be moved permanently from the dormitories to the Wards was little Lili Zwingli, the younger sister of a boy from my batch, Vash Zwingli. Memories about her as an individual are relatively fuzzy and indistinct: I remember that I was in my last year as a Junior, having recently turned ten, and that Lili was a girl a year below me, a small figure with an uncanny resemblance to Vash. However, I remember, with an aching clarity, how Vash worshipped her, bowing to her every whim, protecting her despite his own young age. I remember the boys and I congregating in the Music Room; I had just started my lessons on violin and was trying to coax out a song from the loaned instrument, but the rest, on the pretext of accompanying me, were there to talk, because an eleven-year-old Sophomore gave Lili a bar of chocolate and tried to kiss her cheek last week on Valentine’s Day. He tried, but Vash was quicker than lightning when it concerned Lili, and before he could touch Lili’s skin, Vash had broken his jaw. We had not seen Vash for a week; Mr. Wang Yao, the head disciplinarian of the school, gave him a week-long detention that involved cooping him up in a room reserved for such cases next to the clinic, where doctor Rod and Nurse Eliza could keep an eye on him.

“How’s Miguel now?” Alfred Jones asked from his perch on the piano bench. He was running his hands across the keys of the piano, across the black and the ivory. I knew he could not play a song with it; he had not even decided on an instrument. Therefore, it was to my surprise that he suddenly pressed out a smooth, gliding display of a C-scale. He tried pressing several more keys before losing interest and turning to regard Vash fully.

“He’s not going to touch Lili again,” Vash declared gruffly. Despite his scrawny figure, Vash’s frown inspired fear in students alike, because whatever threat he popped out, everyone knew that he was serious in carrying it out.

Lovino Vargas, whose temper was the only one that could match Vash’s, solemnly said, “Mr. Carriedo said that Miguel was not supposed to touch Lili. That he was wrong to do it. It might have damaged her purity.” Nodding at Vash, he said, “It’s a good thing that you stopped him.”

Vash scowled, and then his scowl melted and he began to fidget nervously. “But I sinned—I sinned in hitting Miguel, didn’t I?”

“Can’t be,” Alfred interjected flatly. “You’re the hero here. Heroes don’t sin. Look at, uh, Sherlock.”

Dryly, I put down my bow and said, “He uses cocaine on a regular basis.”

“Yeah, but without it he can’t solve cases and be super smart or something. I bet there are allowances made for such cases, when the hero has to—has to do what he needs to do.”

“You and your theory, Jones,” I sighed.

However, Vash seemed slightly relieved. “Well, I just hope so, Alfred,” he said, smiling his first smile since Miguel overstepped his boundaries and tried to hit on Vash’s little sister.

In the darkness of our room, as soon as I heard Vash follow Lovino into gentle snores and dreams, I climbed out of my bed and crossed the wooden flooring to Alfred’s bed. He had not yet slept, and was lying on his back on the mattress, his eyes fixed on the glowing moon outside his window. His was the only with the curtains open. I could see the stars reflected in his eyes, and the moon was casting a silver sheen on his face.

Sitting on the foot of his bed, I whispered, “What was that about?”

His attention was fixated on the sky. “What?”

“The piano. The C-scale. I thought you could not play the piano. I thought we were best friends.”

Cracking a grin, he chortled, “How are the two supposed to be connected?”

I frowned. Sensing my distress, he took his smile down by a notch, a gesture that I truly appreciated. He beckoned me, and I crawled onto his side, so that I, too, was bathed in the distant light of the moon and the stars.

“I’m just confused that you didn’t tell me about it. About how you can play.”

He regarded me for several moments with an unwavering stare, one that I had to struggle not to look away from. “I’m sorry,” he sighed. His earnestness was practically tangible. “Yesterday, I met my parents and my brother. They dropped by for a visit.”

Heeey ... this isn't lame at all. I like the way you took Arthur's POV and are talking through him. And don't worry, I understand that you probably have other things to do too, I don't expect you to be continuing this immediately or anything. Just take your time. Anyway this start looks quite promising :)

I had to choke down the words nestling on the tip of my tongue: “Lucky you.” Unlike Alfred, most of the students of Welkin, myself included, never got to see their parents after their fifth birthday. The law made it mandatory that broken children had to stay with their parents until they turned five-year-old, after which there were institutions that would take care of them. Welkin was one among many, but it was arguably the best.

“I remember your brother,” I said. The teachers said I, too, had a brother, but he was not my brother in the sense that Matthew was Alfred’s brother. For one thing, Ian Kirkland was older than me. I had no memory of him, or of my parents. “His name is Matthew.” Matthew looked just like Alfred. He was Alfred’s complete self in the sense that Alfred was his broken self.

“I took him to the Music Room, and he taught me how to play the C-scale,” Alfred sighed, closing his eyes. “He taught me how to play a song called Greensleeves.” Blinking, he opened his eyes again and looked straight at me. “I’d like to play it for you tomorrow.”

Pleased, I smiled and said, “Okay. Tomorrow.” Then Alfred closed his eyes, mumbling how sleepy he was, and I took it as my cue to leave.

Alfred was playing Greensleeves and I was his private audience when Lovino broke into the Music Room with terror in his eyes, panting out the words that Lili had collapsed in the middle of her lessons, and that Nurse Eliza wanted us to accompany Vash to the Wards.

“He broke down just like that,” Lovino said, eyes wide. “He just fell onto his knees when doctor Rod came into our room to tell him the news and fetch him.”

“Oh,” I let out, feeling stricken myself. I remembered Vash’s fierce expression, his expression that never quite relaxed except when he was in Lili’s company. “Oh. Vash.”

XXX

Each room in the dormitories was assigned for four students: four beds, four desks, four small wooden bookshelves, and four wardrobes. While Welkin did not adopt the uniform system, it was mandatory for each student to have a black suit or a black gown, always ready to wear in case of “emergencies”.

I wore my suit a lot during my Senior years. I did not need to wear it at all during when I was a Sophomore. I wore it once when I was a Junior.

The arrival of designer babies sparked a global interest in obtaining superior children. However, there cases when the embryos simply would not come out right: they grew with superior intellect, in-built artistic taste, and physical abilities beyond normal, but they were painfully short-lived. Ninety per cent of them would not live to see their twentieth birthday. Their bodies would usually fail them before that happened.

Thankfully, most research institutions catering to requests for designer babies had back-ups. While parents were relieved to receive the back-ups as their children, the fate of the failed embryos was less certain. Most broken children would grow up to resemble their complete counterparts in terms of appearance, and most parents found it disconcerting to have two similar children who were not twins about in the house, the only difference being one lived to die and the other lived to live.

Most broken children never saw their parents again after the mandatory five years, much less their complete counterparts. Alfred was luckier than most, because Matthew grew up not to resemble him fully, and his parents sometimes missed Alfred enough to drive to Welkin and give him a visit, bringing gifts and apologies for not being able to cope up with the shortness of his life.

I had not driven to Welkin, instead opting to take a cab. Nurse Eliza was there to greet me. We exchanged hugs and smiles. I requested to see Lili’s grave, to pay my respects. It was exactly fourteen years since her death.

“I brought flowers,” I told the tiny grave, smiling and placing the garland of daisies on the tombstone. Vash would have been proud of me.

Somehow it felt befitting. Lili’s funeral was the first time that I had to put on my black suit. I remember fiddling with my bow tie before crossing the room to help the distraught, sombre Vash with his tie. I decided that it felt right to return to Welkin on the anniversary of Lili’s death. It just was, the way it was right for me to imagine that the midnight sky would continue to be reflected in Alfred’s eyes for ever.

---

The competition will not start for a while, but I have a background story that I am really compelled to tell, so I hope you forgive me for that, OP >< I’m sorry I take the liberty of straying from your request, but I hope you will enjoy this AU fic for what it is worth. BTW, it’s a whole lot of pairing being mashed up, since the students of Welkin will be trading partners a lot, but I have a feel that this fic will be slightly inclined towards USUK.

Aaaw, poor Lili. Poor Vash. :(

It's ok, author!anon. I really enjoy your writing style and I'm really thankful that you took this request seriously and found the time to fill it. And it looks to me that the background story you want to tell is rather interesting. I'm looking forward to the rest of it.

Aah, loving this already, authornon! I love how you write it from Arthur's POV, and would love to see much more of this. There are several things I'm still confused about, eh, but guess it'll be explained later? Well, looking forward to reading more, authornon! ^^

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Hetalia Kink meme part 15

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