Duplicitous Love (EnglandxReaderx2P!England) Ch 1

London, 1888

   "Ms. _______," the doctor called from his side of the lab, "could you come here for a moment, please?"
   You groaned as you got up from your seat, leaving your own experiment unattended, yet again. This was the third time he'd called you over to his work area that day.
   "Yes, Dr. Kirkland?"
   "I need you to go over my numbers for me." he explained, raising one of his bushy eyebrows in confusion, "They never seem to add up correctly when I go back over them."
   "Alright," you said, picking up the parchment, "Let's have a look-see."
   You scanned over the hieroglyphics, known to most people as a mathematics equation, until you found the error. You pointed at it and looked at Dr. Kirkland.
   "Here. You forgot to carry the two in your formula."
   The doctor's face turned bright red.
   "How did I miss something as simple as that?" he said, obviously embarrassed by his mistake.
   "It's okay," you smiled, "everyone messes up every once in a while, Dr. Kirkland."
   "Please, call me Arthur."
   "Alright Arthur, what are these calculations for anyway?" you pressed,"You've called me over here three times already; I'd like to know what these numbers are for."
   Arthur sighed and looked deep into your (e/c) eyes. You weren't sure if it was the lighting, but you detected sadness in his emerald eyes.
   "Lately, I feel as though I'm going insane." he whispered, "I've been seeing strange creatures that no one else seems to notice and I've noticed that I'm becoming extremely violent when I'm angry. These numbers are for a formula that will hopefully separate that sinful side of me from my amiable side, restoring my sanity."
   You nodded, understanding that the effects of an incorrect formula could be catastrophic. The ornate grandfather clock tolled seven, alerting you that you were done for the day and free to return home.
   "Well, I hope your formula works perfectly." you said as you took your lab coat off and hung it on the rack, "Good night, Arthur."
   "Farewell, Ms. _______."
   "Arthur, call me ______."
   "Very well, good evening ______."
   With that, you slipped on your coat and exited Arthur's home.
   Arthur began mixing the ingredients together, following the measurements as precisely as he could. He still wasn't entirely sure that the numbers were correct and thought about calling you to quadruple check his calculations.
   "No," he mumbled to himself, "she's most likely at home sleeping by now. And besides, she never lets any miscalculation go undetected."
   As Arthur mixed in the last ingredient, the concoction began to glow an odd shade of pink, illuminating the dimly lit laboratory. He picked up the beaker and examined the curious liquid.
   'It doesn't look too bad,' he thought, 'maybe a sip is all I need.'
   He raised the beaker to his lips, closed his eyes and took a swig of his creation.
   "Ugh! Bloody hell, that tastes awful!"
   Arthur set the beaker back down on the table and stumbled over to the mirror hanging on the wall as the elixir took effect. An intense pain fell over his body, as if millions of needles were piercing his flesh. He looked over at his reflection, hoping to see some indication of separation. Instead, he watched in horror as his physical appearence began to change: his messy blonde hair became paler and his green eyes turned a vivid blue color with pink swirls in the pupils. Arthur felt himself being pulled into some dark chamber in the back of his mind and heard someone laugh like a madman.
   "It's about time you let me have some fun, old chap!" he heard a singsong voice say, and then darkness consumed his vision.