Kay, so. Gonna go ahead and say this before someone points it out (essentially, I'll nip it in the butt): If you know about Stockholm Syndrome, you'll know what's happening/going to happen doesn't exactly exist in the scope of acceptable things that the capturer does. However, for the purpose of furthering this story, I have no choice but to take liberties in changing certain things. The basic principals are there, so it does count, I would think, as a genuine case of SS, just not a real case, seeing as the kidnapper usually doesn't allow the captive to leave the house. Well, that and the fact that this is fiction. Fanfiction at that.
But I digress.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything here, really. Except the plot, and if you think about it, I should really give that up to my subconscious.
WARNING: Language, mention of rape, teen angst, and adjective rape.
It had actually taken Matthew three months to convince his father to let him attend public school.
'The Penguin School', as Matt called it, was the closest in proximity to their house – a ten minute brisk walk – and it was open to letting a homeschooled student transfer in as long as he took some tests first—to see what class levels he would be at; there was no sense in sticking a honors student in integrated or vis versa.
Matt stood in the doorway to his house for the longest time, staring at the wood barrier before him. His mind was reeling and focusing on all that he had gone through in the past three months just to be allowed this small liberty.
It was a lot more than he normally would have gone through for a random teen he had met at a grocery store.
And it's not as though Matt had been averse to the punishments that had been dealt out to him; he enjoyed it for the most part.
The only thing Matthew thought he had to worry about was his father finding out exactly why he wanted to go to school, specifically The Penguin School (which, in reality, was called North West High). Matt had done well, in his own opinion, at hiding his real reason. Now, however, his mind was flickering to everything that could happen if his father found out why he wanted to go to this particular school in the first place.
No telling what would happen to Matthew.
No telling what would happen to Alfred.
And surprisingly – to Matt anyway – that's what scared him the most. What could happen to Alfred if Matthew's father found out about him. It absolutely frightened the teen.
He shook his head, letting his blond waves fly around and bounce back into a semblance of perfect placement. (Ivan always told him his biological mother must have been French, so they laughed about his damn French hair all the time. Especially since it was something Ivan had a habit of attaching his hands to.) Matt reached a shaking hand to the doorknob and turned, opening his front door experimentally. The weather was in that awkward pre-freezing state. It was mid-December, and snow was just slowly starting to fall every now and again. It was lying, yes, but the grass was still visible underneath it all.
His shoes made small prints on the path that lead from the front door to the sidewalk. It was slow going even after talking himself into the first step, then the second, third, tenth. It really didn't matter to him how long it took; he still wasn't going back into his house until the day was over. He'd promised himself that. Matt always kept his promises, or at least the ones he made to himself.
Matthew took one look at the building he'd left, eying the garden on the side that usually grew unusually tall sunflowers, but now held nothing but a barren wasteland. Glancing back towards the window at the front of the house, his violet eyes latched onto Ivan's. They stared at each other for a good minute and a half before Ivan broke the gaze and receded into the house to get ready for work.
Matthew turned quickly and shuffled off down the street, holding his fall jacket close to his body. (Matt never really got cold. Maybe it was because he used to live in the unheated basement of the house for the first three years of his Now-Life...) Matt blinked hard and continued on his way.
Ten minutes later Matthew was standing in front of the most depressing building he had ever seen in his life (which wasn't exactly saying a whole lot; he didn't get out all that much). The place was made entirely out of pale tan and creamy goldish bricks and it was constructed of nothing but sharp angles. The doors were boring plane glass with metal bordering and black lettering. The boy didn't spend much more time pondering the exterior of the building.
The floor inside was almost as boring as the outside of the place; pale yellow and creamy grey tiling alternated in a predictable pattern, covering a hard cement base. The ceiling was paneling, cross-haired with metal bars. The walls were the same pale tan as the outside of the building, but only on the bottom; the top halves of the walls were age-yellowed white bricks. Every so often there was a florescent poster announcing out some sort of club meeting or that tickets were on sale for the upcoming Christmas Dance. The teen laughed dryly and made his way to the front office.
"Hi. Um. I'm Matthew Williams. The new student? I...uhhh. I'm here to get my schedule and a map?"
The woman that was sitting at the desk looked up, startled, and smiled. "Of course! One moment please!" She rose and trotted out through a door to the left of the office. Matt raised an eyebrow. The women was wearing a long red dress that poofed out at the waist and a blue ribbon in her wheat-blonde hair. Once again, Matt laughed in the back of his throat, his mind wondering how long she spent styling that pretty little head of hers and how much make-up she had to wear to achieve the 'baby-doll' look she had about her. He was fiddling with the hem of his jacket when the woman reappeared with a man beside her. "Mr. Williams? This is Mr. Roma Vargas. He's the principal of North West High School. He just wants to talk about how your first day is going to go, ok?"
Matt nodded, his irate little curl bobbing along with him. He reached his hand up to stop it and pull it behind his ear (which proved futile because the hair flicked itself right back into its normal position—right in front of the teens right eye). Mr. Vargas turned back to the office, gesturing sharply for Matt to follow, which follow he did. His steps were small and shy as he closed the office door behind him.
"Ok, Mr. Williams, may I call you Matt? Good. Ok, Matt. So, here's what's going on. Here's your schedule, we took your test suggestions and matched it to a student who had the closest to the classes it said for you to take so you'll have one person you know in every class. Now, I want us to have a relationship," Matt's eyebrows rose up and he was about to ask what kind of relationship when Roma continued, "I want us to be friends! I don't want you to feel like you're an outcast while you're here so, if at any time you feel as though you need someone to talk to, about anything, come find me. I'll be happy at any time. Promise. Now, onto the next matter."
'Ok', Matt thought lightly, 'this guy is rather annoying. Talk to you? Yeah. I'm not planning on talking to anyone while I'm here. Yupp. Not me. Nope. Not gonna happen.'
"...and I'd like you to meet him now, if you're ok with that."
"I'm sorry. What was that?"
"I asked if you'd like to meet your tour guide now and get acquainted for a few minutes or wait for school to start and meet him when the bell rings."
"Oh. Doesn't really matter to me." 'With my luck, I'll get some sort of swooning teenage girl or something.'
"Ok then." The man opened another door in his office, leaning out and announcing, "Mr. Kirkland? Would you please come in here?"
Matt's eyes widened at the boy that walked in. Standing in the doorway was the boy he'd come to meet. Shaggy honeysuckle-blond hair sticking every which-way, blue eyes shaded behind wire-framed glasses, white graphic T-shirt covering a black wife-beater, jeans that weren't too tight but hugged in just the right places; god, Matt could stare for hours. (He didn't have hours- not solid hours anyway- of course, so he shook his head to clear his mind and offered Alfred a shy smile.)
"Matt! I knew you'd come to the school! I told my dad, right, I said 'Jest you wait, Dad! He'll come. I know he will!' And my dad was all 'Don't get your hopes up, Lad. He might not. You never know' and—wait. Did I tell you my dad's British? Yeah. It's totally awesome. And I have a Papa, and he's French. Like from France and everything. He lived in Canada for a while, which is kinda weird 'cause they're all backwards up there and they wrestle polar bears as a rite of passage and stuff, but then he met my Dad and BAM! They fell in love. Just like that, 'BAM!' You know what I mean?"
Ah. Just as he remembered. Charming in an annoying as hell get me out of here before I murder him kind of way.
"Mr. Kirkland, Mr. Williams? It appears the two of you know each other? Good! Then my match-making efforts went to good use! Now you won't have to go through awkward introductions! So, please, Mr. Kirkland, feel free to start your tour whenever you wish. You're both excused from actually participating in your classes. So, have fun!" It was when Mr. Vargas turned tail and fled to his office, chuckling to himself as he did so, that Matthew realized he and Alfred had been walked out of said office and back into the lobby. His secretary smiled lightly and man-handled some papers into Matt's frozen hands.
"Here you go; map, news, nurse's hours, lunch menu, and some other important papers. Again, it was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Williams. Have a nice first day. And, Alfred?" Matt was surprised at how informally she talked to the boy, maybe he was in there a lot? "Please don't screw this up." Matt mentally scoffed. She sounded so desperate; so hopeful in that one line of words. That one line for this one moment where she seemed to want Alfred to make a friend. Hope; how amusingly stupid.
Matthew had every intention of making Alfred his friendmaybemore. Oh yes. Now, to fulfill his mission.
"Come on Alfred. I want to see where my classes are!" It was the most enthusiasm he could muster into his voice and in one swift movement had Alfred's hand in his and was pulling on it, violet eyes shining and lips pushing out to a pout.
If there was one true thing about Matt that he would never admit to himself, it was that he knew how to be cute. Ivan loved role-playing as the dominant man and having Matthew play the young innocent child. Matt nailed his role every time.
The tour guide breathed sharply through his teeth before succumbing to the newer's wishes and leading the way, not letting go of his hand. "Kay! So, this is the main hallway and over here…"
If Matthew had a different life, he would have told his father all that went on that first day. Unfortunately for Matthew, he didn't and his father wasn't in a talking sort of mood when he arrived home from work.
Matthew was up into the odd hours of the night screaming in a mix of pain and pleasure while lying splayed out on his mattress.
It took weeks for Matthew to finally feel at least a bit accepted by this group of people he had forced himself into. A bit accepted as in there was no more 'Hey, New Kid's going around. It was more of 'Oh, I didn't see you there, Man. Sorry,' and 'Woah! I think the schools haunted! I swear something just touched me!' kind of acceptance. It really didn't bother Matt all too much because the one person he wanted to notice him did.
And Alfred noticed him a lot.
In Alfred's defense, he really didn't stand a chance; Matt could flirt with the best of them, and flirt he did.
A little too much bending over in gym while wearing shorts half a size too small, eating a bit too slowly and drawn out at lunch, pretending not to understand a word in the English reading and getting flustered and red-faced when asking for help; Matt knew most of the tricks and they were all working perfectly.
It wasn't Alfreds fault that he started finding Matthew attractive, what with his creamy-blond hair, violet eyes, and perpetually blushing cheeks; Alfred was hooked and that was all there was to say about that.
Well, that and Alfred having to tell his father's that he thought he was gay, but that was easy right?
(In all actuality, Arthur was ticked because he wanted grandbabies. Francis, ever the romantic, found it completely fitting that the teen would like boys, seeing as he and Arthur had raised the child.)
It was early-May by the time Alfred made up his mind and finally pulled Matthew aside after lunch. The taller blond was fidgeting like crazy near the doors of the school; wringing his hands, pulling his ears, fixing his glasses and shirt, screwing with his hair, he was doing it all. He would have kept doing it if Matthew hadn't grasped his hands and locked his violet eyes with Alfreds blue. "What, Alfred?" The shorter asked, tilting his head a bit and widening his eyes with worried questioning.
"Would, um. Gosh darnit. Would you like to be my girlfr—crap. I mean, my boy. My boyfriend? Mattie, would you like to be my boyfriend?"
Matt stared for a few moments before answering with a small nod. After which he received another one of Alfred's patent hugs and a pat on the head. But, the shorter blond couldn't figure out what surprised him more; that Alfred had asked or that he, himself, had said 'yes'.
Phew. Now that that's over!
First off; sorry. This wasn't supposed to take so long, but it did for multiple reasons. Summer started, and I know that's supposed to be a lot of extra time that I can write in, but I've barely had time to sleep and think the past few weeks what with all the running I've had to do. And not only have I been going places, I have to read for my AP English class, do work for AP Bio, and work on a project so that I can graduate next year; so much stuff.And then I had Alfred and Matthew's birthday's I wanted to write for and I got a stupid shower thought and my second and third excuses worked their way in and just, argh. D:
Second; in all honesty, I didn't know what to do with this chapter. :\ I have a synapse/plot all written up, but it goes from 'A' to 'B' without really explaining that that's how alphabetical order goes, if you get my drift. (Which I hope you do because I really enjoyed my comparison there.)
Third; I think I had a really hard time with this because this isn't not supposed to be a school fic; not really. So when I got to the point where I had to write the school crap, my mind blanked out because it's so out of my element it's not even funny. Don't ask what my element is; I haven't a clue. (Maybe it's procrastination?)
Fourth; I had a difficult time getting in touch with my beta, bless her soul. And sadly, in the end, I couldn't. (Still can't.) And there's only so much I can do, so I gave it my typical 70-some once overs and called it done. (Which I know sounds bad because one should really have someone else read their stuff to bounce ideas off. I just don't really know how to work the beta thing on here and it kind of scares me (I have tons of irrational fears, so it's all OK here) so I tend to stay away from those...)
Fifth; I'm extremely scatter-brained. In the process of writing this chapter, I have written and published three one shots, written another one, and outlined another idea for a completely separate story (that may or may not be a one-shot by the time it's done). I have a lot to trouble keeping my mind on task. But, it'll all get done, believe you me.
And Sixth; I got myself a tumblr account recently. And, since I don't really understand it all that much, I've been trying to self-teach myself it. I'm computer/internetly illiterate. And, in case you care, I sort of have some of it down, so I'll have crap up there...Hetalia crap. And reblogs of awesome people that have it down pat and whatnot.
Gosh this is a long authors note...well, 'till next chapter! And, have faith, the next chapter will get done. Promise! It just might—take a while…but I've started writing it at least!