Six Shooter

Gilbert, A young man who had recently moved to the United States for college, runs into a mysterious girl during after hours at a museum. After their first encounter, his whole life he planned out for himself begins to toppled over, throwing him into a chaotic adventure full of crime, infamousy, and romance.

NOTE: This is my fanfiction. The one on is my own account, I'm just placing it under another name because I didn't like the original name for it. I decided to also put it here because, from what few I've seen, Prussia's characterization is terrible or way too edgy. Plus I want as many people to read it as possible because this is my first time writing a fanfiction, and I'd absolutely love to get feedback to help me better my future writings.


3. Chapter Three

The loud screeching of my alarm clock startled me awake. ‘Get up! Get up!’ it seemed to squeal with unnatural alertness. I sat up, which was a poor decision on my part. The crisp, cool air gave me goosebumps all over. Yet, I didn’t make a move to cover myself back up, nor did I shut the alarm off. I just sat there, feeling like utter shit. I finally reached across and lazily shut off my alarm before rising. I shuffled over to my dresser and snagged a shirt, throwing it on haphazardly. I shuffled into the kitchen sleepily, looking at the bright TV screen where Alfred lounged, in the love seat, staring at. Of course, he spent the entire night playing video games. He didn’t peel his eyes off the screen since he was in a heated gunfight online, but he did give me a dull ‘good morning’. I’m not that much of a morning person- mornings make my voice gravelly and rough, so much to the point it almost hurts to talk, or attempt to, so I merely rumbled in response. We’ve been roommates for about two years- long enough for him to understand and almost perfectly translate what my rumbles even mean, or at least piece them together to get a general idea.

    I turned my attention to the coffee maker. Obviously there was coffee in it since Alfred pulled an all-nighter, so I decided to treat myself to it. I wasn’t exactly in the mood for straight black coffee, so I turned to the fridge for the only thing that goes along perfect with black coffee. Milk. I opened the refrigerator door, and stared blankly for a moment. The milk wasn’t there. ‘I bought some the other day, how the hell is it gone?’ I began to rummage through the lower shelves to see it was misplaced, but to no avail. I closed the door in defeat after a bit, and that’s when I spotted it. It was on the counter, idling. I snatched it up, yet it was pretty light. Probably only had a fifth or so left of it. Guessing a swig or two wouldn’t hurt before I add some to my coffee, like there’d be enough for tomorrow anyways, I drank some. I just froze. God, it tasted awful. Before I knew it, I just spat whatever I had in my mouth out. I wasn’t exactly awake enough for it to occur to me how long it was left out. “Alfred!” My shout for him was rough and full of dismay. He moved quicker than I thought he would, especially playing a fast paced shooter at the time. He peeked around the corner, slight concern crossed his face,”Hey, what’s wrong, Gil?”
“How..” My words trailed off due to the look of Alfred’s face. Clearly he noticed the spoiled milk splattered messily on the floor. “How long did you leave the milk out?” Alfred glanced between me, the milk on the floor, the rest in my hand, back on the floor, then resting on me once more.

    “Did you just drink that?” Stupid question, but I wasn’t going to call it out on him. I wasn’t in the mood, nor was it the time to tease him, besides my throat didn’t feel too keen about talking at the moment.
“Yes. I did.”
“Oh, wow, dude. Uhm, do you feel sick?”
I was wondering that myself. I wasn’t sure if it made me sick, or just me overreacting somehow. I did feel like trash, but hell, when does a college student not feel like trash other than occasionally getting blued? Besides I felt like that before I even drank it. “Don’t know.” That was all I could say to that.
    Even though I was perfectly capable of leading myself into the livingroom, Alfred insisted on leading me, thinking that right off the bat I have food poisoning. I probably did, but It wasn’t major, so I thought I was okay.
Boy, was I wrong.

    Later on, I felt like utter shit. More-so than earlier. How my luck is with sickness, I should’ve saw it coming. I was either really stupid or really hopeful that I wouldn’t get sick. I was dizzy not too long ago, but now I’m just a little weak at the stomach. Nothing too major, so my plan to escape the future onslaught of questions Alfred wants to ask will still be avoided. Though it wasn’t playing out as I planned, it’s been going smoothly, surprisingly.  I pulled the blanket that was on the couch over my head. I was laying here for half an hour watching Alfred play on the Playstation his dad bought him. It was oddly quiet. It isn’t this quiet when we’re together. Usually we’re making jokes and howling in laughter about dumb shit, or yelling at each other-no, not arguing, but more or less one of us overreacting about something insignificant and the other one of us trying to call the other back through his laughter. We were pretty rowdy, and our neighbors grown use to it. When we first moved in, We had noise complaints almost every night. After awhile, everyone gave up even trying.

    I snapped awake to a knock at the door and an all too familiar call,”Oh, demon douche~” followed by a “shhh, god, we’re still technically in public, and you’re going to draw unwanted attention!” Alfred was already up and opened the door by the time that last sentence was finished. “Hello, hello, Alfred! I’m guessing that lazy lump on the couch is Gilbert, no?” I knew who was there, and I wasn’t suspecting a visit from them at all either. It was Francis and Arthur. I pulled the blanket off my face and shifted my arm so is was supporting my weight as I lifted myself up. I was surprised to see Roderich there too, impatiently waiting like always. Francis saw me move and gave me a wave. “Uhm, hey guys! Why didn’t you call to tell us you were coming over?” Alfred asked exactly what I was thinking. He stepped aside to let them in. Francis was about to say something but Roderich beat him to the punch. “That’s just a waste of time and phone minutes. You’d let us in anyways.” Well, he had a point there.

    While the other two made their place in one of the two decently stuffed chairs or loveseat, Francis just decided to sit directly on top of me. I knew he was doing was just out of spiteful fun, but having sixty-eight or so kilograms piled on top of you while you’re sick and injured is not exactly a fun time.
    “Could you get off me?”
   “Hm? What’s the matter, mon ami?”
 Alfred loosely grabbed his arm and lightly tugged it, signaling for him to get up. “He’s  not feeling too good, Francy-pants.”
Francis quickly got up and sat in the the remaining chair. “Cold again? He had it last week and it’s claimed his life again!” Francis wailed dramatically while Arthur just gave a ‘tch’ in response to Francis’s acting. “No. Food poisoning. He drank spoiled milk that was left out yesterday.” Roderich chuckled dryly at this,”Let me guess, was it because you bet money?” Alfred shook his head,”No, it was just..Kinda there. And he took a sip. He was still a little dead from sleep so I think he wasn’t thinking straight.” Everyone gave me various levels of apologetic looks after that.

    It was my turn to give everyone a ‘tch’ now. Roderick assumed I’d risk going to the hospital for money (I mean I probably would if it was a pretty solid amount, but still.) and Alfred turned it all into a pity party. “Anyways, you all didn’t come here to throw me a pity party. Why are you here?” Arthur perked up at this one,” You didn’t hear? Someone broke into Moving image. For all we know she was trying to steal something there. Not sure why someone would be interested in a bunch of old cameras though.”

    It was her. I was shocked, which I really shouldn’t be. Roderich carried on where Arthur left off,”She somehow escaped, without what she was aiming for luckily.” Francis had the throw that was on the back of the chair in his hands, one part in his mouth while he pulled on the rest of it, wailing loudly,”She even took a hostage! Oh! How vile for a beautiful flower!” Arthur took it upon himself to quiet Francis by yanking the blanket away from him before his destructive fit tore it to pieces and tell him ‘Quit your whimpering, prat!’. I don’t know what ‘Prat’ means, but I think it’s safe to assume it was an insult. And speaking of insults, I’m glad Alfred was either dumb enough or too naive to actually connect the dots that I was the said hostage.

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