Dear Diary 14-15/17
Title: Dear Diary
Warnings: Slash, college AU
Pairings: Russia/America, minor France/Canada and a few others
Genre: Humor/Romance
Summary: Alfred F. Jones isn't gay. You'll see; just read his diary.
Fourteen
April 8th
Reasons Elizabeta whatever her last name is needs to get a lobotomy:
1. For some reason she's under the impression that Braginski and I "did things" at Gilbert's apartment last weekend, so she's obviously suffering from severe delusions.
2. This would most likely help with that.
3. And I also just think it would be really cool.
4. Plus she seriously freaks me out with her obsession with gay guys and all her creepy… filming.
Later
I just spent the last half hour icing the back of my head and looking for Tylenol. Apparently telling Elizabeta that she should get a lobotomy makes her mad. And apparently when she's mad she likes to hit people with things. Like frying pans. Fucking frying pans. What the fuck?
Later
I… we… I… and then… and he… and I was… And… I think… I…
"TEAM AMERICA IS GOING TO KICK SOME ASS. And I don't care what you say Arthur, that is so the name of our team this year. You can't get more cultural than America; us Americans are awesome like that. Oh, anyways, leave a message at the beep and I'll get back to ya!"
"Alfred, where are you? Spirit Week competitions start tonight, remember? And if you don't- Don't touch that, Peter!- If you don't show up I'm going to have to find someone to replace you!"
"TEAM AMERICA IS GOING TO KICK SOME ASS. And I don't care what you say Arthur, that is so the name of our team this year. You can't get more cultural than America; us Americans are awesome like that. Oh, anyways, leave a message at the beep and I'll get back to ya!"
"There isn't going to be a bloody team America if you don't get your sorry arse out to the soccer field this instant!"
"TEAM AMERICA IS GOING TO KICK SOME ASS. And I don't care what you say Arthur, that is so the name of our team this year. You can't get more cultural than America; us Americans are awesome like that. Oh, anyways, leave a message at the beep and I'll get back to ya!"
"ALFRED F. JONES SO HELP ME GOD! Where the hell are you? Useless wanker. If you're not here in two minutes Feliciano is going to have to run the race as he's the only one who volunteered. Feliciano. Do you want that? The answer is no. No, you do not want that."
"TEAM AMERICA IS GOING TO KICK SOME ASS. And I don't care what you say Arthur, that is so the name of our team this year. You can't get more cultural than America; us Americans are awesome like that. Oh, anyways, leave a message at the beep and I'll get back to ya!"
"Alfred… I'm getting a little worried. You missed the race… Which we lost, by the way… Feliciano got scared and ran the wrong way... Anyway, you're not in the dorm… Are you alright?"
April 9th
Arthur's mad at me for disappearing yesterday... I don't blame him, it didn't really help our standings.
The competitions are based on a point system: First place gets ten points, second gets eight, third gets six, and last place gets four… So currently the sophomore class is in last place and the seniors are in first because Francis ran the race and he's the fastest soccer player we've got. Arthur says it's because he's a pervert so he's just gotten fast from running from the angry people he's tried to molest.
A Completely Hypothetical Situation that has Absolutely No Founding in Real Life:
Let's say you've got person A and person B. Person A is totally cool and awesome and everyone loves him and wishes they could be him. Person B is weird and creepy and probably a serial killer and stalks people but can also be kind of nice and he's fun to argue with and his family totally sucks and I really hate that. But mostly he's just creepy. Well let's say that person A has decided to be friends with person B, even though person B has been a complete freak and has tried to like, get person A to be his boyfriend. But then person B decides that he doesn't want to be friends anymore and, if we're going to be completely honest, this really pisses off person A. And then person A finds out that while he was drunk, he and person B might have sort of made-out, but person A was so freaking wasted out of his mind he completely forgot about it (which is really scary. I- I mean person A- really needs to lay off on the drinking). So anyways, then person B goes back to being a jerk, and now person A is really confused because yeah he's pissed as hell at person B, but he can't decide if it's because person B kissed him or because person B is being a complete douche about everything and is really confusing and won't speak to me- I mean person A.
So yeah. What do you think, Mattie?
-Al
Why the Hell are We Passing Notes Alfred?
I think that "person A" is seriously in denial and just needs to talk to "person B". Now either come in here and talk to me or stop shoving notes under my door so I can get back to studying!
-Matt
Because Passing Notes is Awesome
Person A is not in denial.
-Al
You're Weird.
Fine. "Person A" is not in denial. Maybe "person A" should go talk to Lovino about this, then. Lovino is the freaking king of "not being in denial."
-Matt
No, I'm Awesome. Note the Subtle Difference.
Well, seeing as this is a totally hypothetical situation, I don't need to talk to Lovino. And even if I did I wouldn't because I'm not in denial dammit.
-Al
If you say so, Bro.
I thought we were talking about "person A", not you? :)
-Matt
-
April 9th
Man, what does Matthew know? Going to him for advice was a dumb idea. Stupid Canadian.
Later
But I guess it wouldn't hurt to go talk to Lovino.
Later
I guess.
Later
God, Lovino is such a winey bitch, though. I really can't stand talking to him, especially in person. Maybe I'll just facebook him.
Alfred
hey lovino whats up?
Lovino
what the fuck do you want
Alfred
look i'm sorry about giving you a hard time and yelling at you about braginski and antonio and stuff ok?
Lovino
whatever. what do you want?
Alfred
I was just wonderin if you could give me some advice…
Lovino
god I swear you and braginski are so fucking annoying
Alfred
?
Lovino
he asked me for advice about what to do with you a while back, he thought we could relate or some shit like that cause we both have idiots for significant others. not that I give a fuck about antonio. but anyways, i told him that since you're such a fucking jerk to just ignore you, and that if you really cared you'd go crawling back to him.
Lovino
so I take it he's ignoring you and it's pissing you off? just go fucking apologize you dick
Alfred is offline
April 9th
It fucking figures. It's all Lovino's fault Braginski got weird ideas in his head and is being such an asshole. I fucking hate that little Italian. I hope he chokes on a stromboli and dies. Ugh and I had practice this morning and we've got to practice for our skit for the contest tonight in half an hour, and I'm tired as hell and I missed practice yesterday but whatever, I'm naturally awesome so we'll do great. It would probably help if I knew what our skit was though…
Later
Who let Feliks pick what we're doing? Who? I am going to fucking kill them. I refuse to sing "Spice Up Your Life" and I refuse to dress up like Posh Spice. Refuse.
Later
I guess I'll forgive Feliks… But only because we won.
It was actually kinda fun, all things considered (not that I'll ever, ever wear a strapless mini dress ever, ever again). But we got first place, so whatever. Don't ask me why I know all their names, but I was Posh Spice, Feliks was Ginger Spice, Toris was Scary Spice (that afro wig looked pretty freakin' hilarious on him), Lovino was Sporty Spice (he was a stupid a party pooper though- refused to wear a dress), and Feliciano was Baby Spice. Our coordination might have been a little off, but with my sexy legs, Feliks's… Feliksness, and the fact that Feliciano already kind of looks like a chick, winning first place wasn't very hard.
I have no idea what the other classes did since I was backstage the whole time, but I heard a lot of Britney Spears and Justin Bieber so no wonder we won. Spice Girls were totally the way to go. Even if they are British.
Anyways, half an hour before we were supposed to go on Feliks started freaking out because he forgot his shoes and since he and Toris had a lot of makeup to put on he didn't have time to go and get them. So for some weird reason I offered to.
I mean, it's not like it mattered since I knew Braginski wouldn't be in his room, but still, it felt weird going in there. So I went in there thinking I'd just grab Feliks's shoes and run out, but Braginski's door was open and I don't know, I'm just a curious person, so I opened it and peeked inside.
It didn't look any different from the last time I'd been there, except now he had his scarf, a few cleaning supplies, and a book on how to remove stains sitting on his desk.
…You know that feeling you get when you just feel so guilty it's like something cold and sharp has just pierced you through the heart? Yeah that's how I felt. I mean, yeah he's a douche bag and he really pisses me off and totally confuses me and one minute he's almost nice and the next he's a complete nut-job and he totally over reacts over the dumbest stuff, but still…
I guess it is kind of my fault that his scarf got a stain on it.
So I sort of took his scarf, and it's kinda just chillin' on my dresser right now… I'm going to take it to the dry cleaners tomorrow and see if there's anything they can do about it.
April 10th
The eating contest is today. I hope its hamburgers. I will fucking beast if its hamburgers.
Later
It wasn't. I had to eat a whole plate full of "mystery food" that tasted suspiciously of whipped cream, jell-o, cold peas, spam, and over-ripe bananas… And to make matters worse the junior class won. Excuse me while I go throw up…
Alfred's Subconscious:
12:34 AM
-and then I fall and I think I've scraped my knee- I must have because there's a bit of blood on my hands, but I don't feel anything. I can't hear anything either, come to think of it, and I feel like that should strike me as odd but it doesn't. And there isn't anything to look at. Just white, everywhere.
"Excuse me but you're going to have to move," he says.
Arthur is sitting on a couch next to me, and now we're in my living room back home. I don't know why he's wearing a toga or holding a wand though, so I ask him.
"That's a silly thing to ask," he says. "Now would you please move?"
But when I do he flies away and I-
3:28 AM
-think I must have lost her; I don't hear her footsteps anymore. Just to be sure I open every door in the hallway, but Natalia is nowhere to be found.
Then I hear crying, and even though I've checked every room in this hall I haven't checked this one.
Sometimes I know when I'm dreaming, and right now I know that I am. I still want to see what's behind that door though, but it won't open; I can't get the knob to turn.
I think it is frozen. It must be, because there is frost forming on it, and bits of snow are flitting about, coming through cracks that I can't see and resting heavily on my eyelashes. The snow will not melt. And there is still crying, and finally, finally I get the door to open and there is a giant, frigid phantom before me, clutching the shoulders of a frail child.
I hold my breath and close my eyes; the air is too cold to breathe and I'm afraid the snow might suffocate me and I'm terrified, absolutely terrified that this ghost might try to grab me, too.
I hear footsteps again and remember that I had been running from Natalia. But I can't just leave this little kid here, this frozen child with pale hair and sad, violet eyes. I open my eyes and reach for his hand. It's cold, and much too small, but I pull and I pull until the ghost has let go of him and we run down the stairs- where has the hall gone?- because Natalia isn't going to catch either one of us.
"Thank you," he says, and the voice nearly sounds like someone I know-
7:45 AM
-but then I'm not really sure why I've got an alien in my dorm room. But I do know that his name is Tony. And for some reason Matthew doesn't find this odd at all, because his teddy bear, Kumajiro, has just gone to the store to buy us dinner.
"Matthew," I say, "When will we get to eat?"
He frowns. "I think I'd much rather be called Canada-
-
April 11th
…What the fuck did I dream about last night? Seriously. What the fuck. Arthur in a toga. That is a mental image that is going to take years of heavy counseling to erase from my mind and I'm blaming it on the food they made us eat yesterday.
Speaking of which, Braginski was supposed to be the senior class representative for the eating contest but he was a no-show and none of the other seniors would volunteer, so the seniors lost that round by default which is definitely fine by me. Anyways, I've got to go pick up Braginski's scarf. They said the stain would come out easy-no-problem and that it would be done today… I just need to figure out a way to get it in his room without him noticing.
It would probably be easiest to sneak in right before the scavenger hunt tonight. Here's to hoping I don't get caught; that would be kind of interesting to explain…
Later
Fuck me. Stupid freshmen won the scavenger hunt. It's not my fault I got distracted by McDonald's. They shouldn't have hidden anything in there. Well ok they didn't hide anything in there but I was hungry, ok? I shouldn't be held accountable for things my stomach makes me do. I don't know why Arthur is mad at me, it's not like we're in last place or anything. We have twenty-eight points and the seniors have twenty-two and as long as we win crew races tomorrow we'll beat them and that's all that matters.
Stupid fucking seniors.
Later
Oh wait. The freshman have thirty-two points.
Later
How the fuck did the freshman get thirty-two fucking points? Seriously. How? When did that happen?
Does God hate me?
April 12th
I told Feliks that I thought I had left my cell phone in his room when I went to go get his shoes, so he gave me his dorm key so I could go and get it, but of course I'd only said that so I could return Braginski's scarf.
But apparently Toris had seen the scarf sticking out of my bag Tuesday night. I'm assuming Braginski interrogated him about the missing scarf and Toris buckled under the pressure and snitched on me because when I opened Braginki's door (why doesn't he ever lock it?) he was sitting at his desk, as if he had been expecting me.
He said something that sort of sounded like "private" but he said it all weird, so I guess it was a stupid Russian word. He smiled, eyes wide and dark. "Have you come to chat?" he asked with false cheerfulness. "Or have you come to return that which you have stolen from me?"
Instinctively I clutched the strap of my book bag, which had his scarf in it. "I don't know what you're talking about," I said.
I don't know why I lied, but I was way too embarrassed to admit to having taken it to have it cleaned. He'd probably read into the gesture, thinking I liked him or something, when really it was just me making sure he has nothing to hold over me. I'd had his scarf cleaned, so now we were even. But I wasn't just going to hand it to him like I'd done it to please him or anything.
But uh… I really don't think that he liked my response because the minute those words left my mouth he stood up, no longer smiling, and had begun to visibly shake.
"Let us cut the games, da?" he said menacingly. "I would like my scarf back, Alfred, and I know that you have it."
I turned around, intent on leaving, but then he grabbed me and on impulse I swung around and slugged him clear across the jaw. He staggered back; I'd probably caught him by surprise. But then he growled and lunged at me, grabbing me by my arms and running me into the wall so hard my head snapped back, hitting the wall.
He grinned, but it was creepier than usual. It had the same, "I'm going to eat your brains and enjoy it" feel, with a little bit of, "I'm also going to violate you" as an added bonus. So of course my natural reaction was to knee him in the gut/groin/whatever I could reach, but he'd already anticipated that and forced his knee between my legs.
I thought he was going to try something weird, but he just stood there looking at me, as if he was surprised by his own actions. It was starting to piss me off though so I snapped at him.
"What are you looking at?" I asked.
"I lied to you that night," he said quietly, slowly seeming to calm down. "That night I told you not to worry, told you to leave me alone. The truth is…" his voice trailed off and he worried at his lip for a moment, nervous. His voice was shaking and his hands felt clammy against my skin.
"The truth is that I have no intension of giving you up, and yet I do not wish to force myself on you because I have been told that that will not lead to a happy relationship, but will only make you hate me."
Finally he let go of my arms, but he wouldn't back up. I don't know why I just stood there, letting him invade my personal space like that. I think it was because I was curious to see what he'd say. After all, if a guy stalks you and acts like a total creeper, it's nice to know why, right?
But then he touched my cheek and his smile wasn't creepy anymore- it was shy, hesitant.
"I wanted to change my approach," he continued. "As much as I enjoyed frightening and angering you, I realized that I wanted… that I wanted more. And so I began to think about how I could better handle the situation, and asked Lovino what I should do, because he is easily upset and not very smart, much like you."
Yeah. He fucking insulted me. So I opened my mouth to tell him off, but he placed his hand over my mouth and my nose and I was afraid I might die so I didn't say anything.
"He told me to ignore you, because that is how he always handles Antonio when they have a problem, because eventually Antonio will go to him, wondering what is wrong." he said. "So I tried it, but I fear that I am not strong enough to ignore you, and that is why I turned to angering you again."
He sighed. "And you have been so responsive lately," he frowned, almost absent mindedly stroking my face. "Why did you steal my scarf?"
He stepped closer, if that was even possible, and placed both his hands on either side of my head. "Please tell me you have come to return it," he whispered. "I won't be angry if you do."
And then he tilted his head and his eyes got all foggy and half-closed and holy shit I just knew he was going to try to kiss me or something gay like that, and finally (thank god) I snapped out of it and pushed him off of me.
"You know I thought I had misunderstood you or something," I spat. "I honestly did. But I guess my first impression of you was right; you're nothing but a creep. I don't know why I thought we could be friends."
I pulled his scarf out of my bag and tossed it on his desk. "The stain was my fault; we're even now," I said. "So leave me alone."
And I meant it too.
At the time, at least. Now I just feel like I made a huge mistake.
April 13th
Canoe races today. I hope Braginski and Alvarez are ready to feel the wrath of my paddle.
Later
That sounds a lot weirder than I'd intended…
-
Fifteen
April 13th
Ok just because Braginski's canoe tipped over and I jumped out to save him doesn't mean a fucking thing. It's all that fucking Cuban's fault. If he hadn't tried to fucking cheat none of this would have happened.
More later. I promised I'd go with Arthur to take Peter to the airport.
April 14th
So yesterday we had crew races at the boat house. It started off normal enough; the weather was perfect, the wind current was perfect, I was perfect- everything was great. Every class had a boat decked out like the country they were representing. The seniors had picked Russia (more like Braginski had picked Russia) and we, of course, had picked America. I couldn't tell you what the freshman and juniors were, but the freshman's oars were alternating red, white, and green and the boat had stripes on it, and the junior's oars were red and their boat had a crescent moon and star on it. Whatever countries those are.
Anyways, the race started out well enough and we were in the lead (duh) until fucking Alvarez and his bitches came outta nowhere and bumped into my boat. I yelled at him and told him that this wasn't a fucking bumps race and he just smirked and rammed into me again. Whoever let him be the cock was stupid. Luckily I was the cock too, so I used my amazing navigational and steering and leadership skills and got the fuck away from him.
…Except… in my hast I sort of caused our boat to hit another boat that had been a little too close to ours and it had been the senior's. And they sort of lost their balance. And their boat sort of tipped over. And stupid Braginski was stupid and wearing his scarf and not wearing a life vest (who let him get in the boat like that?) and I was completely sure that he was going to get tangled up in his stupid scarf and drown and I've heard that drowning really sucks and I couldn't just let him drown because watching someone drown is practically murder and anyways so yeah I sort of saved him.
It took a while for anyone to get to us because we had rowed quite a few yards and I was getting nervous because he was just laying there not moving or, or breathing or anything so I panicked and slapped at his face a few times to get him to wake up but nothing was working and he was really pale and still not breathing so I decided that I just had to get my big boy pants on and put my Red Cross training to work.
Yeah.
You read right. I gave fucking Braginski, asshole extraordinaire, mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
And you know what? He'd been faking it. Before I knew it, he was sneaking a stupid arm around my back and smiling against my mouth and trying to do creepy gay things to me like pull me closer and I was just so freaking shocked that I just sat there totally just… shocked. Yeah.
But then he tried to like, lick me or something, so I pulled away and punched him in the jaw.
"I was simply thanking you for saving me," he said, smirking.
"Yeah, I bet," I said. "It's not funny to joke like that! And why the fuck were you wearing your scarf and not wearing a life vest? Are you trying to kill yourself? You big stupid idiot!" I punched him again for good measure. "And don't fucking try to kiss me!" I added.
He just laughed. "I could not help myself." Smirk. "Did I worry you?"
Man he was starting to piss me off. "No," I ground out, "You're just stupid."
That just made him laugh harder; he even had to clutch at his sides and, in a completely hetero way, it was kind of cute. Like, not cute, but like, none-creepy. It was a normal laugh. Yeah. Normal. Normal is probably a better word than cute.
Then he stopped laughing and just stared at me. It wasn't creepy or anything; he didn't have that weird glint in his eye and he wasn't doing that scary chuckle he usually does under his breath, he was just… looking at me.
"I'm sorry," he said.
Well that was unexpected.
"For what?"
"For misjudging you," he said. "Do not get me wrong, I still think that you are rather thick. But my sister," his smile was back. "My sister would say that you… have heart."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked. "And take your scarf off. It's soaking wet and you're going to choke yourself."
He just kept smiling a shook his head. "It means that you may have little up here," he pointed to his head, "but you have much here." He pointed to his heart.
"I'm not stupid," I said. He snorted and I rolled my eyes. "Well, whatever," I said. "Thanks for the compliment. I guess."
There was a pause. I wondered if he was going to bring up the scarf incident but I was glad that he didn't. He moved to take his scarf off and wring it out and I took to staring at the ground.
"How's your sister doing, anyways?" I asked quietly, digging into the moist dirt with a small twig.
Braginski didn't say anything so after a moment I looked up; he was staring at me again.
"Dude, what is it?" I asked, exasperated.
I was sure he was going to say something like, earth shattering, but by the time he'd finally bothered to open his mouth Arthur and Matthew had finally made their way over to us with a nurse, so we didn't get to talk.
And oh yeah, the sophomores were disqualified because of Alvarez (haha) and since the seniors and juniors were sort of put out of commission, the freshman won by default. I feel like I should be really pissed off, but I'm not. For some reason, I just feel really… peaceful.
Argh, more later. The cookout is about to start and there is no way I'm letting anyone grill without me.
Later
So apparently the correct term is cox, not cock. My bad. Guess I heard wrong.
April 15th
I think I'm going to have to find new friends. Seriously. Between Matt and Francis and Arthur and Kiku… God, the cookout was like, one big gay love fest. Not that I'm not all for their gay love or anything… I was just seriously feeling like everyone's squeaky third wheel. It was like:
Random person: "Oh, Arthur, Kiku, you guys are so cute together! But who's that person with you?"
Arthur: "Oh, him? That's just our token straight guy. Never mind him, he just likes to talk about sports and he has no sense of fashion."
Random person: "Oh, how horrid! However do you manage?"
Arthur: "Well, we usually just keep him locked up in his room, but sometimes he needs a bit of fresh air so we let him tag along."
I mean seriously, that's how it felt! Why am I the only straight man here?
And piano guy doesn't count.
...Speaking of gay guys, Lovino finally got over himself and talked to Antonio. I haven't got the specifics yet; all I know is that they talked at the cookout and I'm pretty sure they're going back out again. And thank god for that; I don't think anyone could stand Antonio's emo ass much longer, not to mention Lovino was being an even bigger bitch than usual.
Anyways, other than all the gay drama, the cookout was nice. They announced the winners, and since we didn't win I don't really feel like talking about it, but the food was good and I pegged Alvarez in the face with the volleyball. Course then he just tried to return the favor, but Maria stopped him and said that he'd deserved it. Ha. He got told- I love that girl.
Braginski wasn't there though. Not that it matters, I just-
Never mind.
Later
Oh my god I just noticed that Natalia hasn't been to class in like, a really long time.
Oh my god does that mean she's been expelled?
Dude. Dude. Could my life get any better?
Later
Whatever, Arthur. "Kiku was just showing me how to write haiku" my foot. Like I'd believe that.
…What the hell is a haiku anyways?
Later
Arthur and Kiku are Such Liars
Writing some haiku
Like I would buy that bullshit-
More like gay boy sex
Ode to Braginski
When someone texts you
You're supposed to text them back
You stupid asshole
Untitled
I just realized
I never fixed the door knob
…The school will charge. Fuck.
April 16th
So I texted Braginski again and again he didn't text back. What is his problem?
I mean I guess I told him to leave me alone, but I figured that he kind of figured that I took it back after the whole canoe thing. I mean, we had a nice, civil conversation and everything. Not to mention I fucking saved his life. So when someone texts you "wut up" it's nice and fucking polite to text them back, god dammit.
Later
Maybe I should just go talk to him? That's what Matt said I should do.
Later
Yeah right. I'm not going anywhere near him. What do I care? He'll probably just try to like, kiss me again or something.
Later
But I am kinda curious. It would be nice to know if he's doing alright. Not that I really care about him or anything, but I'm not heartless. He's been going through some hard times and I know he likes to pretend he's big and tough but I bet he needs a shoulder to cry on.
Not that I want him sobbing all over me like some chick, but you know. It's nice to have someone to talk to. Everyone, even creepy bastards like Ivan, need someone to talk to…
April 17th
Oh my god exams are next week. Why the fuck didn't anyone tell me?
Later
Seriously. Matthew is supposed to tell me these things! He is such a fail at being my little brother/schedule keeper. What the hell man, what the hell.
April 21st
I don't… think I can study anymore. Arthur has been drilling me on books and symbolism and definitions and Francis won't shut up about verbs and tenses and phrases and pronunciation and Feliks is all, "Like, Al, you totally mixed up the Supply and Demand curve with the Aggregate Expenditure curve and like, your graphs are totally not looking fabulous." And I'm just like ugh my brain. How much do they expect me to remember?
And Arthur and Kiku are such fucking perfectionists. They're all, "study harder!"
And I'm all, "Guys, chill. Cs get degrees, ya know?"
And then they hit me. Those bastards.
April 23rd
So it's reading day, the last day before exams. The good news? We don't have any classes. The bad news? Arthur and Matt are making me sit upstairs in the library with them and their respective boy toys. Again with the gay love convention.
At least they all went downstairs to the coffee shop to get us caffeine- I mean drinks. Well, they left Kiku up here to keep an eye on me. Maybe I can talk him into playing Simon Says or something…
Five seconds later
Ixnay on the Simon Says. And Braginski's in the reading room directly across from us. No idea if he's noticed me, but he's surrounded by like, fifty books.
…Stupid Kiku. He's all, "It's very obvious that you're staring."
So I'm like, "I don't know what you're talking about."
And he's all, "Just go talk to him; I know you want to. If you hurry before they get back no one will stop you."
Well I don't know what he's talking about. I'm certainly not staring at Braginski and I certainly don't want to go talk to him and even if I did want to I couldn't because I have to study and he's a jerk.
Later
Well… I do need help with trig. But that's the only reason I'm going to talk to him.
A Russian Named Stupid Jerk-face
(Who has no people skills so it's his own damn fault he dies.)
By: A. F. Jones
CAST
Alfred F. Jones, college junior.
Ivan Braginski, college senior.
SCENE-In a reading room in the second floor of the University's library, a random street, a funeral home.
Act I, Scene I
[In a library. Braginski is reading. Enter Alfred.]
Alfred.
Hi.
[He is ignored. After a moment, he clears his throat and tries again.]
Alfred.
Hellooooo-
Ivan.
Da, I heard you the first time. What do you want?
[Alfred swallows his pride. This is very difficult for him to do and should therefore be greatly appreciated.]
Alfred.
I wanted to talk to you. We never got to finish our conversation the other day.
Ivan.
Oh? And what did you want to talk about?
Alfred.
Look, you don't have to get snippy with me. Can we just forget everything a start over? Let's be… friends.
Ivan.
I don't think-
[He is cut off. Alfred slams his hands on the table. A few books fall to the ground.]
Alfred.
Can we just cut the crap? You're a freaking weirdo but for some reason I still want to be friends with you so can you just accept that and get over it? You seemed to want to be friends the other day so why can't we be? Huh? I'm sorry for treating you like crap. Why can't we just start over? I think… Well, I don't think you're all that bad, ok?
Ivan.
I cannot be friends with you, Alfred.
Alfred.
Well why the hell not?
Ivan.
Because… for me being friends would not be enough. And I have already told you; I will not settle for anything less. I know that this is unfair to you, but I will not apologize for my behavior; that is how I am. So we will either have to go our separate ways, or you will have to concede to being mine.
Alfred.
That's just… That's just stupid and selfish! So what, I don't like you like that so we can't even be friends? That's bullshit, Braginski. I'd be totally cool with how things have been -minus the fights and the …kissing, of course.
[Ivan has begun to visibly shake. He sets his pencil down, but it has already splintered.]
Ivan.
I am being selfish?
Alfred.
Yeah. You are. Here I am, trying to be friends with you and trying to understand you and you're… you're just being stupid! I'm sorry I don't feel the same, ok? But I just can't. I'm not gay. I'm sorry. But… But that doesn't mean I don't care. Ok? Cause I do. I want to know what's going on with you. I want to know how your sister is. I want to know if you've gotten into that dance school. I do. I do care.
[Ivan looks down.]
Ivan. [His voice is quivering and is barely above a whisper.]
Please just leave… I cannot deal with this… with you right now.
Alfred.
Ivan, plea-
[He is cut off.]
Ivan.
I said go!
[Alfred is startled. He hesitates, but after a pause he turns to the door.]
Alfred.
Call me, ok?
[Ivan gives no indication that he has heard him. Exit Alfred.]
Act 1, Scene II
[A few weeks later. It is midnight and Ivan is walking down a random street.]
Ivan.
Perhaps I should have called Alfred… He was right, we should be friends. I can put my gayness aside for the sake of our friendship.
[He reaches into his pocket to pull out his cell phone. He crosses the street but does not look where he is going. He is hit by an oncoming eighteen wheeler.]
Ivan.
Oh… I am dying… If only I had told Alfred we could be friends…
[He dies.]
Act I, Scene III
[A few days later, in a funeral home. It is Ivan's funeral.]
[No one comes because Ivan is a douche bag and doesn't call people when they're told to and he's a shitty friend. So yeah. No one went to his funeral. Serves him right.]
The End.
-
April 23rd
He better call me. Cause if he doesn't… I did not just spill my guts to him to have him ignore me. We are going to be friends if he likes it or not. Or I will find an eighteen wheeler and run him over with it.
Plus our trig exam is like, in two days. And I really, really need help.
April 24th
Braginski never called. Fuck him, whatever.
I have my first exam in… T minus 2 hours. Ugh. Wish me luck. I'm gonna need it.
-
OMAKE
Lovino is a man of his word. So when he says that he will not be talking to that bastard ever again and that no, they are not taking a break thank you we've broken up- he means it. Honest. He really does.
If it seems like he's been staring listlessly at his barbeque and shooting side-long glances to the young Spanish man sitting two seats down on the other side of the picnic table, then it must be a trick of the light because he isn't. He isn't, dammit, and these past few weeks haven't been absolutely torturous.
Except they have.
But it's not like he's going to tell anyone that, least of all Antonio.
And where is his brother? It's Feliciano's fault he's here in the first place; it isn't as if he wants to be out here in this sweltering summer heat, not when he can be sleeping.
He looks around and finds his younger brother playing volleyball with some of his friends. He scoffs. It figures.
He looks back to his plate. Why had he agreed to this? Lovino hates this sort of food. Baked beans, shredded pork… corn. He'd much rather have some nice, cold salomorejo- Oh, but Antonio has yet to teach him how to make that dish. And he will never learn, because Antonio is graduating and going home to Spain this summer and probably staying there and never, ever coming back. But what does it matter?
Lovino hates Antonio.
Hates him for pretending to care. Hates him for making him care. Hates him for making him feel like for once, he did not have to stand in Feliciano's shadow. Hates him for agreeing to the break up. Hates him for not fighting.
Antonio did not fight for their relationship. And that is why Lovino knows that Antonio does not care, never cared. He knows that he is not worth it, anyways, so why bother crying? He is rude, he knows he is not likeable. He knows that he drives people away with his attitude. He doesn't have the right to cry.
But he is.
He doesn't notice this until it is too late though; by the time he feels a tear roll down his cheek it has quickly been followed by two, three more.
He raises a hand to his face and angrily wipes them away, hoping that no one else has noticed.
But of course no one else has noticed, he realizes with surprise. Everyone else has left the table already.
Everyone that is except for Antonio.
Antonio who will be gone forever in eighteen days. Gone, gone… Lost to the summer skies of Madrid, lost to the streets of Pamplona, lost to the shores of the Canary Islands. Lost to him. And he doesn't care. Antonio doesn't care.
Lovino wishes that he could move. He wishes that he could get up and just walk away, like Antonio had walked away from him. But he can't; he doesn't want Antonio to think him weak, to think that he can't even handle sitting in the same vicinity as him. So he stays.
It is Antonio who gets up.
Lovino tries not to smile bitterly.
Antonio walks around the table and sits down next to him. Lovino freezes, not expecting this. He wants to shout, to shove him away, to punch him. And he will. He will, just as soon as he stops shaking.
But then Antonio starts to speak. And it's not what Lovino expected to hear; the words seem foreign, strange to him. Why is Antonio saying this? Why is he lying?
Lovino swears that he is going to punch him now. He swears it.
"I'm sorry, Lovi," Antonio says. And he sounds sorry. Oh, but Antonio always sounds sorry. He is so good at sounding sorry. But he doesn't believe him. Not anymore.
"I wanted this to be a surprise," he continues to speak, "But then…" He stops.
There is silence.
Lovino cannot stand the silence.
"If you've got something to say then spit it out," Lovino says.
"I wasn't expecting you to break up with me," Antonio says in a rush, as if he can't trust himself to get it out if he doesn't say it quickly.
Lovino has nothing to say to that.
After all, he wasn't expecting Antonio to just… leave the country without telling him.
"But if you don't mind my asking… why?" Antonio's voice is barely above a whisper and Lovino will not look at him, but he knows. He knows that there is a small frown on his face. But whether it is meant to convey sadness or conceal something less sincere Lovino does not know. Does not care to know.
"Why what?" Lovino asks anyways.
"Why did you break up with me?"
Lovino finds it very funny that now, weeks after they'd broken up, he asks.
He gives a humorless laugh.
"I guess for the same reason you're going to Spain," he says.
Antonio is very puzzled by this response. "You knew?" he asks. "Then why…?"
Lovino can't take it anymore; he loses his temper. He is torn between punching Antonio across the face or bashing his head into the food that he refuses to touch. "You son of a-"
But before Lovino can finish his thought Antonio has shoved something under his nose. It is a ticket.
A ticket to Spain.
"This was the surprise; I was going to ask you to come with me to meet my grandparents," Antonio says quietly.
For the second time today, Lovino finds himself crying. And for the first time in a while, he admits to himself that maybe he had been wrong.
"Stupido!" he says, over and over again. He punches Antonio's arm. "Why didn't you say so?"
Antonio laughs. "It was supposed to be a surprise, querido."
"Testa di merda!" he shouts, grabbing Antonio and kissing and hitting and kissing him again. "I don't like surprises!"
-
Translations: Testa di merda- shit head
Note: That omake really took over- sorry about that. I wasn't expecting that, but Lovino would not shut up. I would have posted it as a separate side story or something but that just felt… silly to me haha so I posted it here. Also, my Cold War ideas fell short, but hopefully what I have planned will work. I rarely end up with my original plans...
Warnings: Slash, college AU
Pairings: Russia/America, minor France/Canada and a few others
Genre: Humor/Romance
Summary: Alfred F. Jones isn't gay. You'll see; just read his diary.
Fourteen
April 8th
Reasons Elizabeta whatever her last name is needs to get a lobotomy:
1. For some reason she's under the impression that Braginski and I "did things" at Gilbert's apartment last weekend, so she's obviously suffering from severe delusions.
2. This would most likely help with that.
3. And I also just think it would be really cool.
4. Plus she seriously freaks me out with her obsession with gay guys and all her creepy… filming.
Later
I just spent the last half hour icing the back of my head and looking for Tylenol. Apparently telling Elizabeta that she should get a lobotomy makes her mad. And apparently when she's mad she likes to hit people with things. Like frying pans. Fucking frying pans. What the fuck?
Later
I… we… I… and then… and he… and I was… And… I think… I…
"TEAM AMERICA IS GOING TO KICK SOME ASS. And I don't care what you say Arthur, that is so the name of our team this year. You can't get more cultural than America; us Americans are awesome like that. Oh, anyways, leave a message at the beep and I'll get back to ya!"
"Alfred, where are you? Spirit Week competitions start tonight, remember? And if you don't- Don't touch that, Peter!- If you don't show up I'm going to have to find someone to replace you!"
"TEAM AMERICA IS GOING TO KICK SOME ASS. And I don't care what you say Arthur, that is so the name of our team this year. You can't get more cultural than America; us Americans are awesome like that. Oh, anyways, leave a message at the beep and I'll get back to ya!"
"There isn't going to be a bloody team America if you don't get your sorry arse out to the soccer field this instant!"
"TEAM AMERICA IS GOING TO KICK SOME ASS. And I don't care what you say Arthur, that is so the name of our team this year. You can't get more cultural than America; us Americans are awesome like that. Oh, anyways, leave a message at the beep and I'll get back to ya!"
"ALFRED F. JONES SO HELP ME GOD! Where the hell are you? Useless wanker. If you're not here in two minutes Feliciano is going to have to run the race as he's the only one who volunteered. Feliciano. Do you want that? The answer is no. No, you do not want that."
"TEAM AMERICA IS GOING TO KICK SOME ASS. And I don't care what you say Arthur, that is so the name of our team this year. You can't get more cultural than America; us Americans are awesome like that. Oh, anyways, leave a message at the beep and I'll get back to ya!"
"Alfred… I'm getting a little worried. You missed the race… Which we lost, by the way… Feliciano got scared and ran the wrong way... Anyway, you're not in the dorm… Are you alright?"
April 9th
Arthur's mad at me for disappearing yesterday... I don't blame him, it didn't really help our standings.
The competitions are based on a point system: First place gets ten points, second gets eight, third gets six, and last place gets four… So currently the sophomore class is in last place and the seniors are in first because Francis ran the race and he's the fastest soccer player we've got. Arthur says it's because he's a pervert so he's just gotten fast from running from the angry people he's tried to molest.
A Completely Hypothetical Situation that has Absolutely No Founding in Real Life:
Let's say you've got person A and person B. Person A is totally cool and awesome and everyone loves him and wishes they could be him. Person B is weird and creepy and probably a serial killer and stalks people but can also be kind of nice and he's fun to argue with and his family totally sucks and I really hate that. But mostly he's just creepy. Well let's say that person A has decided to be friends with person B, even though person B has been a complete freak and has tried to like, get person A to be his boyfriend. But then person B decides that he doesn't want to be friends anymore and, if we're going to be completely honest, this really pisses off person A. And then person A finds out that while he was drunk, he and person B might have sort of made-out, but person A was so freaking wasted out of his mind he completely forgot about it (which is really scary. I- I mean person A- really needs to lay off on the drinking). So anyways, then person B goes back to being a jerk, and now person A is really confused because yeah he's pissed as hell at person B, but he can't decide if it's because person B kissed him or because person B is being a complete douche about everything and is really confusing and won't speak to me- I mean person A.
So yeah. What do you think, Mattie?
-Al
Why the Hell are We Passing Notes Alfred?
I think that "person A" is seriously in denial and just needs to talk to "person B". Now either come in here and talk to me or stop shoving notes under my door so I can get back to studying!
-Matt
Because Passing Notes is Awesome
Person A is not in denial.
-Al
You're Weird.
Fine. "Person A" is not in denial. Maybe "person A" should go talk to Lovino about this, then. Lovino is the freaking king of "not being in denial."
-Matt
No, I'm Awesome. Note the Subtle Difference.
Well, seeing as this is a totally hypothetical situation, I don't need to talk to Lovino. And even if I did I wouldn't because I'm not in denial dammit.
-Al
If you say so, Bro.
I thought we were talking about "person A", not you? :)
-Matt
-
April 9th
Man, what does Matthew know? Going to him for advice was a dumb idea. Stupid Canadian.
Later
But I guess it wouldn't hurt to go talk to Lovino.
Later
I guess.
Later
God, Lovino is such a winey bitch, though. I really can't stand talking to him, especially in person. Maybe I'll just facebook him.
Alfred
hey lovino whats up?
Lovino
what the fuck do you want
Alfred
look i'm sorry about giving you a hard time and yelling at you about braginski and antonio and stuff ok?
Lovino
whatever. what do you want?
Alfred
I was just wonderin if you could give me some advice…
Lovino
god I swear you and braginski are so fucking annoying
Alfred
?
Lovino
he asked me for advice about what to do with you a while back, he thought we could relate or some shit like that cause we both have idiots for significant others. not that I give a fuck about antonio. but anyways, i told him that since you're such a fucking jerk to just ignore you, and that if you really cared you'd go crawling back to him.
Lovino
so I take it he's ignoring you and it's pissing you off? just go fucking apologize you dick
Alfred is offline
April 9th
It fucking figures. It's all Lovino's fault Braginski got weird ideas in his head and is being such an asshole. I fucking hate that little Italian. I hope he chokes on a stromboli and dies. Ugh and I had practice this morning and we've got to practice for our skit for the contest tonight in half an hour, and I'm tired as hell and I missed practice yesterday but whatever, I'm naturally awesome so we'll do great. It would probably help if I knew what our skit was though…
Later
Who let Feliks pick what we're doing? Who? I am going to fucking kill them. I refuse to sing "Spice Up Your Life" and I refuse to dress up like Posh Spice. Refuse.
Later
I guess I'll forgive Feliks… But only because we won.
It was actually kinda fun, all things considered (not that I'll ever, ever wear a strapless mini dress ever, ever again). But we got first place, so whatever. Don't ask me why I know all their names, but I was Posh Spice, Feliks was Ginger Spice, Toris was Scary Spice (that afro wig looked pretty freakin' hilarious on him), Lovino was Sporty Spice (he was a stupid a party pooper though- refused to wear a dress), and Feliciano was Baby Spice. Our coordination might have been a little off, but with my sexy legs, Feliks's… Feliksness, and the fact that Feliciano already kind of looks like a chick, winning first place wasn't very hard.
I have no idea what the other classes did since I was backstage the whole time, but I heard a lot of Britney Spears and Justin Bieber so no wonder we won. Spice Girls were totally the way to go. Even if they are British.
Anyways, half an hour before we were supposed to go on Feliks started freaking out because he forgot his shoes and since he and Toris had a lot of makeup to put on he didn't have time to go and get them. So for some weird reason I offered to.
I mean, it's not like it mattered since I knew Braginski wouldn't be in his room, but still, it felt weird going in there. So I went in there thinking I'd just grab Feliks's shoes and run out, but Braginski's door was open and I don't know, I'm just a curious person, so I opened it and peeked inside.
It didn't look any different from the last time I'd been there, except now he had his scarf, a few cleaning supplies, and a book on how to remove stains sitting on his desk.
…You know that feeling you get when you just feel so guilty it's like something cold and sharp has just pierced you through the heart? Yeah that's how I felt. I mean, yeah he's a douche bag and he really pisses me off and totally confuses me and one minute he's almost nice and the next he's a complete nut-job and he totally over reacts over the dumbest stuff, but still…
I guess it is kind of my fault that his scarf got a stain on it.
So I sort of took his scarf, and it's kinda just chillin' on my dresser right now… I'm going to take it to the dry cleaners tomorrow and see if there's anything they can do about it.
April 10th
The eating contest is today. I hope its hamburgers. I will fucking beast if its hamburgers.
Later
It wasn't. I had to eat a whole plate full of "mystery food" that tasted suspiciously of whipped cream, jell-o, cold peas, spam, and over-ripe bananas… And to make matters worse the junior class won. Excuse me while I go throw up…
Alfred's Subconscious:
12:34 AM
-and then I fall and I think I've scraped my knee- I must have because there's a bit of blood on my hands, but I don't feel anything. I can't hear anything either, come to think of it, and I feel like that should strike me as odd but it doesn't. And there isn't anything to look at. Just white, everywhere.
"Excuse me but you're going to have to move," he says.
Arthur is sitting on a couch next to me, and now we're in my living room back home. I don't know why he's wearing a toga or holding a wand though, so I ask him.
"That's a silly thing to ask," he says. "Now would you please move?"
But when I do he flies away and I-
3:28 AM
-think I must have lost her; I don't hear her footsteps anymore. Just to be sure I open every door in the hallway, but Natalia is nowhere to be found.
Then I hear crying, and even though I've checked every room in this hall I haven't checked this one.
Sometimes I know when I'm dreaming, and right now I know that I am. I still want to see what's behind that door though, but it won't open; I can't get the knob to turn.
I think it is frozen. It must be, because there is frost forming on it, and bits of snow are flitting about, coming through cracks that I can't see and resting heavily on my eyelashes. The snow will not melt. And there is still crying, and finally, finally I get the door to open and there is a giant, frigid phantom before me, clutching the shoulders of a frail child.
I hold my breath and close my eyes; the air is too cold to breathe and I'm afraid the snow might suffocate me and I'm terrified, absolutely terrified that this ghost might try to grab me, too.
I hear footsteps again and remember that I had been running from Natalia. But I can't just leave this little kid here, this frozen child with pale hair and sad, violet eyes. I open my eyes and reach for his hand. It's cold, and much too small, but I pull and I pull until the ghost has let go of him and we run down the stairs- where has the hall gone?- because Natalia isn't going to catch either one of us.
"Thank you," he says, and the voice nearly sounds like someone I know-
7:45 AM
-but then I'm not really sure why I've got an alien in my dorm room. But I do know that his name is Tony. And for some reason Matthew doesn't find this odd at all, because his teddy bear, Kumajiro, has just gone to the store to buy us dinner.
"Matthew," I say, "When will we get to eat?"
He frowns. "I think I'd much rather be called Canada-
-
April 11th
…What the fuck did I dream about last night? Seriously. What the fuck. Arthur in a toga. That is a mental image that is going to take years of heavy counseling to erase from my mind and I'm blaming it on the food they made us eat yesterday.
Speaking of which, Braginski was supposed to be the senior class representative for the eating contest but he was a no-show and none of the other seniors would volunteer, so the seniors lost that round by default which is definitely fine by me. Anyways, I've got to go pick up Braginski's scarf. They said the stain would come out easy-no-problem and that it would be done today… I just need to figure out a way to get it in his room without him noticing.
It would probably be easiest to sneak in right before the scavenger hunt tonight. Here's to hoping I don't get caught; that would be kind of interesting to explain…
Later
Fuck me. Stupid freshmen won the scavenger hunt. It's not my fault I got distracted by McDonald's. They shouldn't have hidden anything in there. Well ok they didn't hide anything in there but I was hungry, ok? I shouldn't be held accountable for things my stomach makes me do. I don't know why Arthur is mad at me, it's not like we're in last place or anything. We have twenty-eight points and the seniors have twenty-two and as long as we win crew races tomorrow we'll beat them and that's all that matters.
Stupid fucking seniors.
Later
Oh wait. The freshman have thirty-two points.
Later
How the fuck did the freshman get thirty-two fucking points? Seriously. How? When did that happen?
Does God hate me?
April 12th
I told Feliks that I thought I had left my cell phone in his room when I went to go get his shoes, so he gave me his dorm key so I could go and get it, but of course I'd only said that so I could return Braginski's scarf.
But apparently Toris had seen the scarf sticking out of my bag Tuesday night. I'm assuming Braginski interrogated him about the missing scarf and Toris buckled under the pressure and snitched on me because when I opened Braginki's door (why doesn't he ever lock it?) he was sitting at his desk, as if he had been expecting me.
He said something that sort of sounded like "private" but he said it all weird, so I guess it was a stupid Russian word. He smiled, eyes wide and dark. "Have you come to chat?" he asked with false cheerfulness. "Or have you come to return that which you have stolen from me?"
Instinctively I clutched the strap of my book bag, which had his scarf in it. "I don't know what you're talking about," I said.
I don't know why I lied, but I was way too embarrassed to admit to having taken it to have it cleaned. He'd probably read into the gesture, thinking I liked him or something, when really it was just me making sure he has nothing to hold over me. I'd had his scarf cleaned, so now we were even. But I wasn't just going to hand it to him like I'd done it to please him or anything.
But uh… I really don't think that he liked my response because the minute those words left my mouth he stood up, no longer smiling, and had begun to visibly shake.
"Let us cut the games, da?" he said menacingly. "I would like my scarf back, Alfred, and I know that you have it."
I turned around, intent on leaving, but then he grabbed me and on impulse I swung around and slugged him clear across the jaw. He staggered back; I'd probably caught him by surprise. But then he growled and lunged at me, grabbing me by my arms and running me into the wall so hard my head snapped back, hitting the wall.
He grinned, but it was creepier than usual. It had the same, "I'm going to eat your brains and enjoy it" feel, with a little bit of, "I'm also going to violate you" as an added bonus. So of course my natural reaction was to knee him in the gut/groin/whatever I could reach, but he'd already anticipated that and forced his knee between my legs.
I thought he was going to try something weird, but he just stood there looking at me, as if he was surprised by his own actions. It was starting to piss me off though so I snapped at him.
"What are you looking at?" I asked.
"I lied to you that night," he said quietly, slowly seeming to calm down. "That night I told you not to worry, told you to leave me alone. The truth is…" his voice trailed off and he worried at his lip for a moment, nervous. His voice was shaking and his hands felt clammy against my skin.
"The truth is that I have no intension of giving you up, and yet I do not wish to force myself on you because I have been told that that will not lead to a happy relationship, but will only make you hate me."
Finally he let go of my arms, but he wouldn't back up. I don't know why I just stood there, letting him invade my personal space like that. I think it was because I was curious to see what he'd say. After all, if a guy stalks you and acts like a total creeper, it's nice to know why, right?
But then he touched my cheek and his smile wasn't creepy anymore- it was shy, hesitant.
"I wanted to change my approach," he continued. "As much as I enjoyed frightening and angering you, I realized that I wanted… that I wanted more. And so I began to think about how I could better handle the situation, and asked Lovino what I should do, because he is easily upset and not very smart, much like you."
Yeah. He fucking insulted me. So I opened my mouth to tell him off, but he placed his hand over my mouth and my nose and I was afraid I might die so I didn't say anything.
"He told me to ignore you, because that is how he always handles Antonio when they have a problem, because eventually Antonio will go to him, wondering what is wrong." he said. "So I tried it, but I fear that I am not strong enough to ignore you, and that is why I turned to angering you again."
He sighed. "And you have been so responsive lately," he frowned, almost absent mindedly stroking my face. "Why did you steal my scarf?"
He stepped closer, if that was even possible, and placed both his hands on either side of my head. "Please tell me you have come to return it," he whispered. "I won't be angry if you do."
And then he tilted his head and his eyes got all foggy and half-closed and holy shit I just knew he was going to try to kiss me or something gay like that, and finally (thank god) I snapped out of it and pushed him off of me.
"You know I thought I had misunderstood you or something," I spat. "I honestly did. But I guess my first impression of you was right; you're nothing but a creep. I don't know why I thought we could be friends."
I pulled his scarf out of my bag and tossed it on his desk. "The stain was my fault; we're even now," I said. "So leave me alone."
And I meant it too.
At the time, at least. Now I just feel like I made a huge mistake.
April 13th
Canoe races today. I hope Braginski and Alvarez are ready to feel the wrath of my paddle.
Later
That sounds a lot weirder than I'd intended…
-
Fifteen
April 13th
Ok just because Braginski's canoe tipped over and I jumped out to save him doesn't mean a fucking thing. It's all that fucking Cuban's fault. If he hadn't tried to fucking cheat none of this would have happened.
More later. I promised I'd go with Arthur to take Peter to the airport.
April 14th
So yesterday we had crew races at the boat house. It started off normal enough; the weather was perfect, the wind current was perfect, I was perfect- everything was great. Every class had a boat decked out like the country they were representing. The seniors had picked Russia (more like Braginski had picked Russia) and we, of course, had picked America. I couldn't tell you what the freshman and juniors were, but the freshman's oars were alternating red, white, and green and the boat had stripes on it, and the junior's oars were red and their boat had a crescent moon and star on it. Whatever countries those are.
Anyways, the race started out well enough and we were in the lead (duh) until fucking Alvarez and his bitches came outta nowhere and bumped into my boat. I yelled at him and told him that this wasn't a fucking bumps race and he just smirked and rammed into me again. Whoever let him be the cock was stupid. Luckily I was the cock too, so I used my amazing navigational and steering and leadership skills and got the fuck away from him.
…Except… in my hast I sort of caused our boat to hit another boat that had been a little too close to ours and it had been the senior's. And they sort of lost their balance. And their boat sort of tipped over. And stupid Braginski was stupid and wearing his scarf and not wearing a life vest (who let him get in the boat like that?) and I was completely sure that he was going to get tangled up in his stupid scarf and drown and I've heard that drowning really sucks and I couldn't just let him drown because watching someone drown is practically murder and anyways so yeah I sort of saved him.
It took a while for anyone to get to us because we had rowed quite a few yards and I was getting nervous because he was just laying there not moving or, or breathing or anything so I panicked and slapped at his face a few times to get him to wake up but nothing was working and he was really pale and still not breathing so I decided that I just had to get my big boy pants on and put my Red Cross training to work.
Yeah.
You read right. I gave fucking Braginski, asshole extraordinaire, mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
And you know what? He'd been faking it. Before I knew it, he was sneaking a stupid arm around my back and smiling against my mouth and trying to do creepy gay things to me like pull me closer and I was just so freaking shocked that I just sat there totally just… shocked. Yeah.
But then he tried to like, lick me or something, so I pulled away and punched him in the jaw.
"I was simply thanking you for saving me," he said, smirking.
"Yeah, I bet," I said. "It's not funny to joke like that! And why the fuck were you wearing your scarf and not wearing a life vest? Are you trying to kill yourself? You big stupid idiot!" I punched him again for good measure. "And don't fucking try to kiss me!" I added.
He just laughed. "I could not help myself." Smirk. "Did I worry you?"
Man he was starting to piss me off. "No," I ground out, "You're just stupid."
That just made him laugh harder; he even had to clutch at his sides and, in a completely hetero way, it was kind of cute. Like, not cute, but like, none-creepy. It was a normal laugh. Yeah. Normal. Normal is probably a better word than cute.
Then he stopped laughing and just stared at me. It wasn't creepy or anything; he didn't have that weird glint in his eye and he wasn't doing that scary chuckle he usually does under his breath, he was just… looking at me.
"I'm sorry," he said.
Well that was unexpected.
"For what?"
"For misjudging you," he said. "Do not get me wrong, I still think that you are rather thick. But my sister," his smile was back. "My sister would say that you… have heart."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked. "And take your scarf off. It's soaking wet and you're going to choke yourself."
He just kept smiling a shook his head. "It means that you may have little up here," he pointed to his head, "but you have much here." He pointed to his heart.
"I'm not stupid," I said. He snorted and I rolled my eyes. "Well, whatever," I said. "Thanks for the compliment. I guess."
There was a pause. I wondered if he was going to bring up the scarf incident but I was glad that he didn't. He moved to take his scarf off and wring it out and I took to staring at the ground.
"How's your sister doing, anyways?" I asked quietly, digging into the moist dirt with a small twig.
Braginski didn't say anything so after a moment I looked up; he was staring at me again.
"Dude, what is it?" I asked, exasperated.
I was sure he was going to say something like, earth shattering, but by the time he'd finally bothered to open his mouth Arthur and Matthew had finally made their way over to us with a nurse, so we didn't get to talk.
And oh yeah, the sophomores were disqualified because of Alvarez (haha) and since the seniors and juniors were sort of put out of commission, the freshman won by default. I feel like I should be really pissed off, but I'm not. For some reason, I just feel really… peaceful.
Argh, more later. The cookout is about to start and there is no way I'm letting anyone grill without me.
Later
So apparently the correct term is cox, not cock. My bad. Guess I heard wrong.
April 15th
I think I'm going to have to find new friends. Seriously. Between Matt and Francis and Arthur and Kiku… God, the cookout was like, one big gay love fest. Not that I'm not all for their gay love or anything… I was just seriously feeling like everyone's squeaky third wheel. It was like:
Random person: "Oh, Arthur, Kiku, you guys are so cute together! But who's that person with you?"
Arthur: "Oh, him? That's just our token straight guy. Never mind him, he just likes to talk about sports and he has no sense of fashion."
Random person: "Oh, how horrid! However do you manage?"
Arthur: "Well, we usually just keep him locked up in his room, but sometimes he needs a bit of fresh air so we let him tag along."
I mean seriously, that's how it felt! Why am I the only straight man here?
And piano guy doesn't count.
...Speaking of gay guys, Lovino finally got over himself and talked to Antonio. I haven't got the specifics yet; all I know is that they talked at the cookout and I'm pretty sure they're going back out again. And thank god for that; I don't think anyone could stand Antonio's emo ass much longer, not to mention Lovino was being an even bigger bitch than usual.
Anyways, other than all the gay drama, the cookout was nice. They announced the winners, and since we didn't win I don't really feel like talking about it, but the food was good and I pegged Alvarez in the face with the volleyball. Course then he just tried to return the favor, but Maria stopped him and said that he'd deserved it. Ha. He got told- I love that girl.
Braginski wasn't there though. Not that it matters, I just-
Never mind.
Later
Oh my god I just noticed that Natalia hasn't been to class in like, a really long time.
Oh my god does that mean she's been expelled?
Dude. Dude. Could my life get any better?
Later
Whatever, Arthur. "Kiku was just showing me how to write haiku" my foot. Like I'd believe that.
…What the hell is a haiku anyways?
Later
Arthur and Kiku are Such Liars
Writing some haiku
Like I would buy that bullshit-
More like gay boy sex
Ode to Braginski
When someone texts you
You're supposed to text them back
You stupid asshole
Untitled
I just realized
I never fixed the door knob
…The school will charge. Fuck.
April 16th
So I texted Braginski again and again he didn't text back. What is his problem?
I mean I guess I told him to leave me alone, but I figured that he kind of figured that I took it back after the whole canoe thing. I mean, we had a nice, civil conversation and everything. Not to mention I fucking saved his life. So when someone texts you "wut up" it's nice and fucking polite to text them back, god dammit.
Later
Maybe I should just go talk to him? That's what Matt said I should do.
Later
Yeah right. I'm not going anywhere near him. What do I care? He'll probably just try to like, kiss me again or something.
Later
But I am kinda curious. It would be nice to know if he's doing alright. Not that I really care about him or anything, but I'm not heartless. He's been going through some hard times and I know he likes to pretend he's big and tough but I bet he needs a shoulder to cry on.
Not that I want him sobbing all over me like some chick, but you know. It's nice to have someone to talk to. Everyone, even creepy bastards like Ivan, need someone to talk to…
April 17th
Oh my god exams are next week. Why the fuck didn't anyone tell me?
Later
Seriously. Matthew is supposed to tell me these things! He is such a fail at being my little brother/schedule keeper. What the hell man, what the hell.
April 21st
I don't… think I can study anymore. Arthur has been drilling me on books and symbolism and definitions and Francis won't shut up about verbs and tenses and phrases and pronunciation and Feliks is all, "Like, Al, you totally mixed up the Supply and Demand curve with the Aggregate Expenditure curve and like, your graphs are totally not looking fabulous." And I'm just like ugh my brain. How much do they expect me to remember?
And Arthur and Kiku are such fucking perfectionists. They're all, "study harder!"
And I'm all, "Guys, chill. Cs get degrees, ya know?"
And then they hit me. Those bastards.
April 23rd
So it's reading day, the last day before exams. The good news? We don't have any classes. The bad news? Arthur and Matt are making me sit upstairs in the library with them and their respective boy toys. Again with the gay love convention.
At least they all went downstairs to the coffee shop to get us caffeine- I mean drinks. Well, they left Kiku up here to keep an eye on me. Maybe I can talk him into playing Simon Says or something…
Five seconds later
Ixnay on the Simon Says. And Braginski's in the reading room directly across from us. No idea if he's noticed me, but he's surrounded by like, fifty books.
…Stupid Kiku. He's all, "It's very obvious that you're staring."
So I'm like, "I don't know what you're talking about."
And he's all, "Just go talk to him; I know you want to. If you hurry before they get back no one will stop you."
Well I don't know what he's talking about. I'm certainly not staring at Braginski and I certainly don't want to go talk to him and even if I did want to I couldn't because I have to study and he's a jerk.
Later
Well… I do need help with trig. But that's the only reason I'm going to talk to him.
A Russian Named Stupid Jerk-face
(Who has no people skills so it's his own damn fault he dies.)
By: A. F. Jones
CAST
Alfred F. Jones, college junior.
Ivan Braginski, college senior.
SCENE-In a reading room in the second floor of the University's library, a random street, a funeral home.
Act I, Scene I
[In a library. Braginski is reading. Enter Alfred.]
Alfred.
Hi.
[He is ignored. After a moment, he clears his throat and tries again.]
Alfred.
Hellooooo-
Ivan.
Da, I heard you the first time. What do you want?
[Alfred swallows his pride. This is very difficult for him to do and should therefore be greatly appreciated.]
Alfred.
I wanted to talk to you. We never got to finish our conversation the other day.
Ivan.
Oh? And what did you want to talk about?
Alfred.
Look, you don't have to get snippy with me. Can we just forget everything a start over? Let's be… friends.
Ivan.
I don't think-
[He is cut off. Alfred slams his hands on the table. A few books fall to the ground.]
Alfred.
Can we just cut the crap? You're a freaking weirdo but for some reason I still want to be friends with you so can you just accept that and get over it? You seemed to want to be friends the other day so why can't we be? Huh? I'm sorry for treating you like crap. Why can't we just start over? I think… Well, I don't think you're all that bad, ok?
Ivan.
I cannot be friends with you, Alfred.
Alfred.
Well why the hell not?
Ivan.
Because… for me being friends would not be enough. And I have already told you; I will not settle for anything less. I know that this is unfair to you, but I will not apologize for my behavior; that is how I am. So we will either have to go our separate ways, or you will have to concede to being mine.
Alfred.
That's just… That's just stupid and selfish! So what, I don't like you like that so we can't even be friends? That's bullshit, Braginski. I'd be totally cool with how things have been -minus the fights and the …kissing, of course.
[Ivan has begun to visibly shake. He sets his pencil down, but it has already splintered.]
Ivan.
I am being selfish?
Alfred.
Yeah. You are. Here I am, trying to be friends with you and trying to understand you and you're… you're just being stupid! I'm sorry I don't feel the same, ok? But I just can't. I'm not gay. I'm sorry. But… But that doesn't mean I don't care. Ok? Cause I do. I want to know what's going on with you. I want to know how your sister is. I want to know if you've gotten into that dance school. I do. I do care.
[Ivan looks down.]
Ivan. [His voice is quivering and is barely above a whisper.]
Please just leave… I cannot deal with this… with you right now.
Alfred.
Ivan, plea-
[He is cut off.]
Ivan.
I said go!
[Alfred is startled. He hesitates, but after a pause he turns to the door.]
Alfred.
Call me, ok?
[Ivan gives no indication that he has heard him. Exit Alfred.]
Act 1, Scene II
[A few weeks later. It is midnight and Ivan is walking down a random street.]
Ivan.
Perhaps I should have called Alfred… He was right, we should be friends. I can put my gayness aside for the sake of our friendship.
[He reaches into his pocket to pull out his cell phone. He crosses the street but does not look where he is going. He is hit by an oncoming eighteen wheeler.]
Ivan.
Oh… I am dying… If only I had told Alfred we could be friends…
[He dies.]
Act I, Scene III
[A few days later, in a funeral home. It is Ivan's funeral.]
[No one comes because Ivan is a douche bag and doesn't call people when they're told to and he's a shitty friend. So yeah. No one went to his funeral. Serves him right.]
The End.
-
April 23rd
He better call me. Cause if he doesn't… I did not just spill my guts to him to have him ignore me. We are going to be friends if he likes it or not. Or I will find an eighteen wheeler and run him over with it.
Plus our trig exam is like, in two days. And I really, really need help.
April 24th
Braginski never called. Fuck him, whatever.
I have my first exam in… T minus 2 hours. Ugh. Wish me luck. I'm gonna need it.
-
OMAKE
Lovino is a man of his word. So when he says that he will not be talking to that bastard ever again and that no, they are not taking a break thank you we've broken up- he means it. Honest. He really does.
If it seems like he's been staring listlessly at his barbeque and shooting side-long glances to the young Spanish man sitting two seats down on the other side of the picnic table, then it must be a trick of the light because he isn't. He isn't, dammit, and these past few weeks haven't been absolutely torturous.
Except they have.
But it's not like he's going to tell anyone that, least of all Antonio.
And where is his brother? It's Feliciano's fault he's here in the first place; it isn't as if he wants to be out here in this sweltering summer heat, not when he can be sleeping.
He looks around and finds his younger brother playing volleyball with some of his friends. He scoffs. It figures.
He looks back to his plate. Why had he agreed to this? Lovino hates this sort of food. Baked beans, shredded pork… corn. He'd much rather have some nice, cold salomorejo- Oh, but Antonio has yet to teach him how to make that dish. And he will never learn, because Antonio is graduating and going home to Spain this summer and probably staying there and never, ever coming back. But what does it matter?
Lovino hates Antonio.
Hates him for pretending to care. Hates him for making him care. Hates him for making him feel like for once, he did not have to stand in Feliciano's shadow. Hates him for agreeing to the break up. Hates him for not fighting.
Antonio did not fight for their relationship. And that is why Lovino knows that Antonio does not care, never cared. He knows that he is not worth it, anyways, so why bother crying? He is rude, he knows he is not likeable. He knows that he drives people away with his attitude. He doesn't have the right to cry.
But he is.
He doesn't notice this until it is too late though; by the time he feels a tear roll down his cheek it has quickly been followed by two, three more.
He raises a hand to his face and angrily wipes them away, hoping that no one else has noticed.
But of course no one else has noticed, he realizes with surprise. Everyone else has left the table already.
Everyone that is except for Antonio.
Antonio who will be gone forever in eighteen days. Gone, gone… Lost to the summer skies of Madrid, lost to the streets of Pamplona, lost to the shores of the Canary Islands. Lost to him. And he doesn't care. Antonio doesn't care.
Lovino wishes that he could move. He wishes that he could get up and just walk away, like Antonio had walked away from him. But he can't; he doesn't want Antonio to think him weak, to think that he can't even handle sitting in the same vicinity as him. So he stays.
It is Antonio who gets up.
Lovino tries not to smile bitterly.
Antonio walks around the table and sits down next to him. Lovino freezes, not expecting this. He wants to shout, to shove him away, to punch him. And he will. He will, just as soon as he stops shaking.
But then Antonio starts to speak. And it's not what Lovino expected to hear; the words seem foreign, strange to him. Why is Antonio saying this? Why is he lying?
Lovino swears that he is going to punch him now. He swears it.
"I'm sorry, Lovi," Antonio says. And he sounds sorry. Oh, but Antonio always sounds sorry. He is so good at sounding sorry. But he doesn't believe him. Not anymore.
"I wanted this to be a surprise," he continues to speak, "But then…" He stops.
There is silence.
Lovino cannot stand the silence.
"If you've got something to say then spit it out," Lovino says.
"I wasn't expecting you to break up with me," Antonio says in a rush, as if he can't trust himself to get it out if he doesn't say it quickly.
Lovino has nothing to say to that.
After all, he wasn't expecting Antonio to just… leave the country without telling him.
"But if you don't mind my asking… why?" Antonio's voice is barely above a whisper and Lovino will not look at him, but he knows. He knows that there is a small frown on his face. But whether it is meant to convey sadness or conceal something less sincere Lovino does not know. Does not care to know.
"Why what?" Lovino asks anyways.
"Why did you break up with me?"
Lovino finds it very funny that now, weeks after they'd broken up, he asks.
He gives a humorless laugh.
"I guess for the same reason you're going to Spain," he says.
Antonio is very puzzled by this response. "You knew?" he asks. "Then why…?"
Lovino can't take it anymore; he loses his temper. He is torn between punching Antonio across the face or bashing his head into the food that he refuses to touch. "You son of a-"
But before Lovino can finish his thought Antonio has shoved something under his nose. It is a ticket.
A ticket to Spain.
"This was the surprise; I was going to ask you to come with me to meet my grandparents," Antonio says quietly.
For the second time today, Lovino finds himself crying. And for the first time in a while, he admits to himself that maybe he had been wrong.
"Stupido!" he says, over and over again. He punches Antonio's arm. "Why didn't you say so?"
Antonio laughs. "It was supposed to be a surprise, querido."
"Testa di merda!" he shouts, grabbing Antonio and kissing and hitting and kissing him again. "I don't like surprises!"
-
Translations: Testa di merda- shit head
Note: That omake really took over- sorry about that. I wasn't expecting that, but Lovino would not shut up. I would have posted it as a separate side story or something but that just felt… silly to me haha so I posted it here. Also, my Cold War ideas fell short, but hopefully what I have planned will work. I rarely end up with my original plans...