Cold and Broken, Hallelujah [Prologue.1]
anonymous
November 10 2010, 13:10:05 UTC
…Is…is having 5 author anons ok…;;? …I…I already feel inferior to the other anons but…this has been eating at me…and…and…I’ll hush now. Alfred had known Arthur his whole life. For as long as he could remember, Arthur was there. When they were small, Arthur was taller, that much Alfred could laugh about in reminiscing. Only his height leverage over Alfred had changed, though. Arthur was still pale, still frail for a male. His eyes were the most vivid green Alfred had ever seen; neither emerald nor jade could compare to the brilliant shade. Alfred always found them absolutely entrancing, enough so to distract from the horribly thick eyebrows that Arthur had learned to keep carefully hidden underneath thick, sandy blonde hair. Alfred loved Arthur’s hair; it never cooperated and liked to wisp out in every which direction, despite Arthur’s desperate attempts to tame it. He made up for the disobedient hair by always dressing in sharp, fresh-pressed clothes, usually of a Sunday best type. Always green, but much darker than his eyes; it made them all the more vivid and Alfred was more than content to let himself get lost in them.
Alfred could never quite place when he met Arthur, or remember a time in his childhood where Arthur was absent. Arthur was the constant babysitter, even though he was only a few years older than Alfred; he was mature, responsible and always there while his parents screamed at one another. He could remember stifling sobs into Arthur’s chest whenever daddy called mommy a ‘whore’, a ‘bitch’, a ‘slut’; mommy always retaliated by calling him an ‘ungrateful drunk bastard that threw their lives away’. Arthur never judged, merely held him tight until the screaming match turned into mommy’s desperate shrieks and sobs, making a compellingly horrible symphony with the breaking glass and the flesh meeting flesh. By the time he was six, the shrieks, the sobs, the glass and the fighting were Alfred’s lullaby; still, he had no nightmares, as he always fell asleep with his head in Arthur’s lap-on his shoulder, in his chest- with Arthur humming a wordless tune that he promised to play for Alfred one day.
Alfred could remember Arthur teaching him how to read a map when he was little. Most children started out with ‘My First…’ books; Alfred started out with a map in the back of a book he found while exploring the attic one day. He liked the attic, a lot more than the storage shed; the storage shed was filled with rusting gardening tools, his father’s hunting rifle and other things that had long collected dust and cobwebs. The Christmas boxes were in the attic, along with all of mommy’s old school books. He remembers that she wanted to be a teacher. He asked Arthur to explain the map and before long he could name many countries, all the continents, the seven seas and could read maps very well. Once he mastered the map, he began flipping through the book. Pages upon pages of the past made Alfred squirm uncomfortably as he struggled through reading, with Arthur’s ever watchful presence. He got to the end of the colonization era before stopping and quietly asking Arthur for a new book. History scares him; history is a thing of the past and he desperately desires not to even think of the day before, let alone years before. Arthur complies and the book is hidden away; they soon find a mathematical book and Arthur shows him the basic functions; Alfred likes this much more. It was concrete and the only that thing changed were the numbers being used.
Cold and Broken, Hallelujah [Prologue.2]
anonymous
November 10 2010, 13:13:23 UTC
Alfred remembers asking Arthur about his own family; he’d just started kindergarten and had been surprised that his classmates’ parents had all stayed for at least five minutes…Arthur had walked Alfred to his classroom before leaving for his own school-he went to a weird school called ‘boarding’. Alfred had sat himself in the back of the class, nervous and scared as everyone else, not because his parents had left him, no…because his parents hadn’t even bothered to walk with him to the bus stop. When he got home, daddy was out and mommy was still asleep. Arthur was already home, sporting a fresh black eye and tending to a recently stopped bloody nose. It was nothing new; Arthur fought a lot, especially with someone named Antonio and Francis, and occasionally others. Gilbert was the culprit today and just watching how Arthur winced when he worked on pulling the tissue from his nose, watching a fresh trail of blood running down his lip, was enough to make Alfred start crying. Arthur shushed him quickly and the two bolted when they heard a car door slam outside and a slam from deeper in the small house; daddy was home, mommy was awake and the war was back on.
Alfred remembers how Arthur tried to distract him by asking him about his first day of school. Alfred had ceased his whimpering long enough to explain how everyone’s parents had been there and how left out he felt. Arthur nodded and had given him a pat on the head; his parents had apparently done the same and Alfred finally got the courage up to ask about his family. Arthur had two brothers, both older, and a sister who was only a year younger; his mommy was eight months pregnant with a fourth brother. Arthur lived with his daddy; his mommy lived overseas in England. Jacob was the oldest brother-Arthur had a thin smile as he began describing his family- followed by Fallon, then Arthur and Cathlene. Jacob had blonde hair like Arthur did, but it was darker and had a bit of a red tinge. Fallon was a redhead, as was Cathlene; all three had the same vivid green eyes that Arthur did. Jacob and Fallon liked to pick on Arthur, but got upset whenever someone else did, kind of like when Arthur gets upset that Alfred’s crying. Alfred can remember wishing he could live with Arthur and his family; he can still see the detached smile that was broken by a startled flinch when the screaming finally started. Alfred never asked about his family after that and promised himself he would try to stop making Arthur worry.
School became welcoming to Alfred; he made friends easily-Arthur said it was because he smiled so much- and he was always happy to be around them. His favourite friend was Matthew, a transfer student from somewhere called ‘Canadia’…Matt tried to correct him at first but the pronunciation was permanent and he soon resigned to the fact Alfred would never actually say ‘Canada’. Alfred liked to tease him, especially by mispronouncing the country, because it would make Matt puff his cheeks out in irritation. Matt was a pleasant boy, very quiet and constantly smiling. Not like Alfred did, more like a dreamy smile that said he was elsewhere. No one ever seemed to notice him. Ivan was another friend-another transfer, this time from Russia-, pale, with shockingly blonde hair and bright violet eyes. He was rather thick, though he called it being big-boned, and would tear up whenever someone called him fat. No one ever did though, not even Alfred in a teasing manner, because when it came down to it, Ivan would retaliate. He didn’t nudge people or even push them away like Matt and Alfred; he full body shoved. The first time he did it was when they’d gotten off the bus one morning in January; Ivan loved the cold and wore only his scarf, a long coat and a fuzzy hat while everyone else bundled up. Another boy called him fat and yanked his scarf…thirty minutes later he was still in the nurse’s office with a bleeding knee, a fractured wrist and wailing about it being Alfred’s fault. The teacher had been surprised-Alfred never got in trouble- and when he said Ivan had done it because the other boy was being mean to Ivan the teacher had kindly asked him to talk to Ivan. She’d seemed very relieved.
Cold and Broken, Hallelujah [Prologue.3]
anonymous
November 10 2010, 13:15:28 UTC
The talk amounted, ultimately, to nothing. No one dared pick on Ivan again and Alfred and Matt were ultimately left alone just for being associated with him; six weeks later it didn’t matter as Ivan moved back to Russia. A week after that, Matt’s family moved back to Canada. Alfred cried from the day Ivan left to a week after Matt left. Alfred had been home sick the day Ivan left, but he’d come to say good bye; the same happened with Matt. The crying made him sicker and Arthur could only sigh and try to take care of him. His father had taken to staying out for weeks at a time, leaving his mother to run two day jobs and a night job for support; Arthur was the only consistency. Arthur was safety that his parents couldn’t provide. It was that single train of thought that helped Alfred get over his sickness; he went back to school, smile bright on his face, despite the hollow sadness he felt without his friends. The teachers only asked about Ivan once-no one mentioned Matt- and then let the subject drop when Alfred said he’d come to say good bye.
Two years passed in a monotonous blur.
Alfred was still the optimistic student that every teacher wanted. He’d managed to skip first and second grade and was the youngest in his fourth grade class. His parents still fought, still spent indefinite amounts of time away from each other, but he didn’t really see a problem. Arthur stayed with him and he even heard from Matt every once in a while. Ivan had been scarce and while that worried Alfred, he didn’t think much on it and was therefore spared any worry for the Russian. He liked to tease Arthur; if he could skip just one more grade, he could be in Arthur’s class…Arthur would always smile and remind him that they went to different schools. Still, he let Alfred tease, let him dream, but ultimately left him to his ‘friends’. He was friendly with everyone in school, but no one invited him over and he invited no one over. Arthur called them his friends; Alfred shook his head and called them his ‘school friends’. Arthur was his only real friend, even if he never understood Alfred’s logic.
Towards the middle of the year, Alfred was called to the principal’s office. The girls giggled, the boys grinned; Alfred frowned but obediently slid out of his chair and shuffled the entire way. The principal was a nice woman, Mrs. Karen-a pretty young red head with green eyes…Alfred liked her eyes, they were like Arthur’s, only lesser. She knew all of the students from teacher conferences, and she had always taken a kind, special interest in Alfred, as his parents never showed up for conferences. She was always glad to listen to his stories about his friends, especially Arthur, but she’d never called him out of class before. (Well, there was that time he’d skinned his knee when he jumped out of the swing, but that was to make sure he was ok and to try calling mommy. He’d politely declined and insisted Arthur would take care of him.) He knocked on her door timidly before poking his head into the office, shuffling over to the seat across from her desk and hoisting himself onto it. Mrs. Karen had her eyes on the desk, lips thin as she tapped her pen in a slow manner. Alfred squirmed in his seat, nervous and unsettled by the silence; before he could ask though, she quietly inquired any family he knew besides his parents.
Alfred had frowned and shook his head; mommy was an only child and daddy had never discussed any siblings if he did have them. He didn’t know his grandparents, though he did know daddy’s mother was in a hospital upstate for terminal illness and mommy wasn’t on speaking terms with either of her parents. Mrs. Karen made a small noise that mixed between a heaving sigh and a stifled sob. Alfred began to panic, apologizing for making the woman cry. Everything went numb with the barely audible words.
“I’m so sorry, Alfred…your parents are dead.”…Fifth anon is taking a slightly different approach and is going to go hide now…orz *apologizes for the rather what the hell beginning, but promises it will all make sense* …For anyone who’s curious, Jacob, Fallon and Cathlene are (respectively) Scotland, Ireland and N. Ireland. …Going to my corner now orz *goes to work on more*
Re: Cold and Broken, Hallelujah [Prologue.3]
anonymous
November 10 2010, 13:25:18 UTC
Interesting, I love how you built up Alfred and Arthur's relationship and I'm wondering if you're going to cause them to 'break-up' like in canon and I'm scared of that slightly.
But I love this, I still don't know which one would be the serial killer (even though I have a sneaky suspicion it's going to be Alfred) but I can definitely see how if one of them was a killer, the other would stick by him because of their relationship.
Was it you who just deanoned? If so, YES! I'm not the only one that happens to!
NotOP by the way even though I am enjoying how many fills this prompt is getting.
Re: Cold and Broken, Hallelujah [Prologue.3]
anonymous
November 10 2010, 14:46:39 UTC
I too am loving how many fills this prompt is getting! Each one is so unique and it's really amazing how many different interpretations and styles there are.
You did a great job in setting up Alfred's backstory and the last line...oh my gosh! I can't wait to read more.
Re: Cold and Broken, Hallelujah [Prologue.3]
anonymous
November 10 2010, 16:48:40 UTC
This buildup is rather intense Writer!Anon! This is a very different approach in comparison to the other fills, but I'm liking this just as much. I'm really looking forward to how this does develop into the prompt, Alfred and Arthur are so close in this that I feel that when the prompt does start to show that it will be very dramatic and exciting to read! You have me interested thus far, please update when you have the chance!
Re: Cold and Broken, Hallelujah [Prologue.3]
anonymous
November 10 2010, 17:24:36 UTC
lame-author-anon of KakuRenBo fill loves this! :DDDDD I love how you built this up, the story, Alfred's school life compared to his home life---it's...just brilliant~ Especially his relationship with Arthur, hsdgsavcgdf
I eagerly await for more! Though not really, because I am hooked ;DDDD
Whoooah, amazing background you have there Author!anon 5. Great approach! Really, you didn't throw any obvious hints as too who's the killer in your story but rather just thicken suspcious-atmosphere. I need to know WHO! OTL
Get out of that corner and don't be shy, because I love to read more~ I also agree with the other anon above, I AM enjoying all the fills my prompt's getting ;D
Alfred could never quite place when he met Arthur, or remember a time in his childhood where Arthur was absent. Arthur was the constant babysitter, even though he was only a few years older than Alfred; he was mature, responsible and always there while his parents screamed at one another. He could remember stifling sobs into Arthur’s chest whenever daddy called mommy a ‘whore’, a ‘bitch’, a ‘slut’; mommy always retaliated by calling him an ‘ungrateful drunk bastard that threw their lives away’. Arthur never judged, merely held him tight until the screaming match turned into mommy’s desperate shrieks and sobs, making a compellingly horrible symphony with the breaking glass and the flesh meeting flesh. By the time he was six, the shrieks, the sobs, the glass and the fighting were Alfred’s lullaby; still, he had no nightmares, as he always fell asleep with his head in Arthur’s lap-on his shoulder, in his chest- with Arthur humming a wordless tune that he promised to play for Alfred one day.
Alfred could remember Arthur teaching him how to read a map when he was little. Most children started out with ‘My First…’ books; Alfred started out with a map in the back of a book he found while exploring the attic one day. He liked the attic, a lot more than the storage shed; the storage shed was filled with rusting gardening tools, his father’s hunting rifle and other things that had long collected dust and cobwebs. The Christmas boxes were in the attic, along with all of mommy’s old school books. He remembers that she wanted to be a teacher. He asked Arthur to explain the map and before long he could name many countries, all the continents, the seven seas and could read maps very well. Once he mastered the map, he began flipping through the book. Pages upon pages of the past made Alfred squirm uncomfortably as he struggled through reading, with Arthur’s ever watchful presence. He got to the end of the colonization era before stopping and quietly asking Arthur for a new book. History scares him; history is a thing of the past and he desperately desires not to even think of the day before, let alone years before. Arthur complies and the book is hidden away; they soon find a mathematical book and Arthur shows him the basic functions; Alfred likes this much more. It was concrete and the only that thing changed were the numbers being used.
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Alfred remembers how Arthur tried to distract him by asking him about his first day of school. Alfred had ceased his whimpering long enough to explain how everyone’s parents had been there and how left out he felt. Arthur nodded and had given him a pat on the head; his parents had apparently done the same and Alfred finally got the courage up to ask about his family. Arthur had two brothers, both older, and a sister who was only a year younger; his mommy was eight months pregnant with a fourth brother. Arthur lived with his daddy; his mommy lived overseas in England. Jacob was the oldest brother-Arthur had a thin smile as he began describing his family- followed by Fallon, then Arthur and Cathlene. Jacob had blonde hair like Arthur did, but it was darker and had a bit of a red tinge. Fallon was a redhead, as was Cathlene; all three had the same vivid green eyes that Arthur did. Jacob and Fallon liked to pick on Arthur, but got upset whenever someone else did, kind of like when Arthur gets upset that Alfred’s crying. Alfred can remember wishing he could live with Arthur and his family; he can still see the detached smile that was broken by a startled flinch when the screaming finally started. Alfred never asked about his family after that and promised himself he would try to stop making Arthur worry.
School became welcoming to Alfred; he made friends easily-Arthur said it was because he smiled so much- and he was always happy to be around them. His favourite friend was Matthew, a transfer student from somewhere called ‘Canadia’…Matt tried to correct him at first but the pronunciation was permanent and he soon resigned to the fact Alfred would never actually say ‘Canada’. Alfred liked to tease him, especially by mispronouncing the country, because it would make Matt puff his cheeks out in irritation. Matt was a pleasant boy, very quiet and constantly smiling. Not like Alfred did, more like a dreamy smile that said he was elsewhere. No one ever seemed to notice him. Ivan was another friend-another transfer, this time from Russia-, pale, with shockingly blonde hair and bright violet eyes. He was rather thick, though he called it being big-boned, and would tear up whenever someone called him fat. No one ever did though, not even Alfred in a teasing manner, because when it came down to it, Ivan would retaliate. He didn’t nudge people or even push them away like Matt and Alfred; he full body shoved. The first time he did it was when they’d gotten off the bus one morning in January; Ivan loved the cold and wore only his scarf, a long coat and a fuzzy hat while everyone else bundled up. Another boy called him fat and yanked his scarf…thirty minutes later he was still in the nurse’s office with a bleeding knee, a fractured wrist and wailing about it being Alfred’s fault. The teacher had been surprised-Alfred never got in trouble- and when he said Ivan had done it because the other boy was being mean to Ivan the teacher had kindly asked him to talk to Ivan. She’d seemed very relieved.
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Two years passed in a monotonous blur.
Alfred was still the optimistic student that every teacher wanted. He’d managed to skip first and second grade and was the youngest in his fourth grade class. His parents still fought, still spent indefinite amounts of time away from each other, but he didn’t really see a problem. Arthur stayed with him and he even heard from Matt every once in a while. Ivan had been scarce and while that worried Alfred, he didn’t think much on it and was therefore spared any worry for the Russian. He liked to tease Arthur; if he could skip just one more grade, he could be in Arthur’s class…Arthur would always smile and remind him that they went to different schools. Still, he let Alfred tease, let him dream, but ultimately left him to his ‘friends’. He was friendly with everyone in school, but no one invited him over and he invited no one over. Arthur called them his friends; Alfred shook his head and called them his ‘school friends’. Arthur was his only real friend, even if he never understood Alfred’s logic.
Towards the middle of the year, Alfred was called to the principal’s office. The girls giggled, the boys grinned; Alfred frowned but obediently slid out of his chair and shuffled the entire way. The principal was a nice woman, Mrs. Karen-a pretty young red head with green eyes…Alfred liked her eyes, they were like Arthur’s, only lesser. She knew all of the students from teacher conferences, and she had always taken a kind, special interest in Alfred, as his parents never showed up for conferences. She was always glad to listen to his stories about his friends, especially Arthur, but she’d never called him out of class before. (Well, there was that time he’d skinned his knee when he jumped out of the swing, but that was to make sure he was ok and to try calling mommy. He’d politely declined and insisted Arthur would take care of him.) He knocked on her door timidly before poking his head into the office, shuffling over to the seat across from her desk and hoisting himself onto it. Mrs. Karen had her eyes on the desk, lips thin as she tapped her pen in a slow manner. Alfred squirmed in his seat, nervous and unsettled by the silence; before he could ask though, she quietly inquired any family he knew besides his parents.
Alfred had frowned and shook his head; mommy was an only child and daddy had never discussed any siblings if he did have them. He didn’t know his grandparents, though he did know daddy’s mother was in a hospital upstate for terminal illness and mommy wasn’t on speaking terms with either of her parents. Mrs. Karen made a small noise that mixed between a heaving sigh and a stifled sob. Alfred began to panic, apologizing for making the woman cry. Everything went numb with the barely audible words.
“I’m so sorry, Alfred…your parents are dead.”…Fifth anon is taking a slightly different approach and is going to go hide now…orz *apologizes for the rather what the hell beginning, but promises it will all make sense*
…For anyone who’s curious, Jacob, Fallon and Cathlene are (respectively) Scotland, Ireland and N. Ireland. …Going to my corner now orz *goes to work on more*
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But I love this, I still don't know which one would be the serial killer (even though I have a sneaky suspicion it's going to be Alfred) but I can definitely see how if one of them was a killer, the other would stick by him because of their relationship.
Was it you who just deanoned? If so, YES! I'm not the only one that happens to!
NotOP by the way even though I am enjoying how many fills this prompt is getting.
Reply
You did a great job in setting up Alfred's backstory and the last line...oh my gosh! I can't wait to read more.
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I eagerly await for more! Though not really, because I am hooked ;DDDD
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Get out of that corner and don't be shy, because I love to read more~
I also agree with the other anon above, I AM enjoying all the fills my prompt's getting ;D
Reply
<333333
much love for this. and arthuuuur buhuhu you take care of little alfred ;;
AND IVAN holy shit yes. he is big-boned. i wanna snuggle the little guy
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