Threeway

Part I

In a dingy music store two blocks away from his house, Matthew Williams falls in love.

The store is rather ugly. The wallpaper is a dull yellow and is starting to peel in the corners. Matthew thinks that the tiled floor used to be white, but now it's gray and moldy. Kitschy love songs are always emitting from the speakers, and it's clear to Matthew that whoever picks out the music has no taste, at all. There's only one reason he comes to the store, and it's because it's the only place that those jocks at school don't come to.

The woman working the register almost always locks herself in the Employees Only room to call one of her friends, so Matthew is almost always by himself. He doesn't mind. It allows him to think while his fingers skim over scratched CD cases absent-mindedly.

Then one day, someone else comes in. At first, when the bell rings like it does whenever the door is opened, Matthew is worried that somehow, the other students have found his little haven.

The first thing that attracts his attention are the person's eyebrows. They're rather...prominent. Matthew has to bite his lip to keep from snickering out loud. He catches a glimpse of emerald green eyes before the other boy turns and disappears behind a rack.

Matthew's curiosity is piqued. He tries to sneak glances at the sandy-haired boy without being too obvious, but it doesn't work. He confines himself into a corner of the shop, behind a rack of CDs of Elvis Presley, inwardly berating himself for being such a creep.

But then he hears footsteps coming closer, and when he looks up, he can see through the gaps of the rack that the other male was standing on the opposite side.

For a moment, his heart nearly stops beating, because what if the boy noticed him staring and had come to tell him off? He didn't need another person shunning him. But the boy seems to be caught up in the CDs, walking down the rack slowly. Slowly, Matthew calms down and follows, catching glimpses of the blond every once in a while.

He's gathered enough courage to step closer when a CD is suddenly removed from the other side. Matthew's breath hitches, and he freezes. There's enough space between the bars on the rack that the person would be able to see his full face.

The boy on the other side is scanning the back of the CD, oblivious to Matthew's presence. The Canadian exhales softly, eyes taking in the sight of the other male. His expression is one of concentration, lips tugged into a small frown. Spiky tufts of blond hair fall to cover a small portion of his eyes, and Matthew finds it a little endearing.

Before he can take note of anything else, the boy puts the CD back. Matthew silently debates on whether to say hello or not, but then he hears the ring of a bell, which meant that someone else came in or the boy left.

He peeks out from behind the rack.

He's the only one in the store.

. . .

It becomes something akin to a routine. Every day after school, Matthew would arrive at the store. He'd go to the back to hide from the creeping eyes of the saleswoman(when she wasn't hiding out in the Employee's Only room), but also in hopes of seeing the sandy-haired boy again. Thirty minutes later, at exactly four o'clock, his object of interest would arrive.

Matthew feels like a stalker, standing there on the opposite side of the rack, watching, while the male browsed CDs. Matthew wants to step out and introduce himself, but something stops him and all he can do is stand there wistfully.

Within a week, he finds that he knows a lot about the male. He knows that his name is Arthur Kirkland, he really likes the Sex Pistols, he has older brothers that gave him a hard time(Matthew found out when two of them came with Arthur to the store one day), and sometimes he talks to air and calls it "Flying Mint Bunny." He can't swim, loves Earl Grey tea, and loves Shakespeare even more. But he also wears tattered black shirts and skinny jeans and a spiked bracelet around his left wrist.

Matthew blushes though no one can see him. I really am a stalker, he thinks mournfully.

The sharp ring of a cellphone interrupts brings him back to reality. Today, Arthur is carrying a plastic bag with the Hallmark logo printed in the middle. Matthew watches through small gaps as Arthur fishes around in his pocket for the phone. In a swift motion, he flips the phone open and says curtly, "Hello?"

"Hey, Iggy!" The woman is in the back again, and for once, there's no music coming from the speakers. The quietness allows Matthew to hear the boisterous voice coming from the receiver.

"Don't shout so loud, you git," Arthur snaps. "And don't call me that."

Matthew strains to hear what is being said, but apparently the other has lowered their voice. There's a small pause, and then Arthur says, "Yes, I'm on my way. I just stopped by the music store to..." His green eyes flicker over suddenly, and Matthew finds himself making eye contact with him.

For one terrifying moment, he's afraid he's been caught.

But Arthur's eyes move past him, unseeing. "...buy something," Arthur continues. "I'll be there in a few minutes."

Another pause.

Matthew sees Arthur roll his eyes. "Yeah, I love you too, Alfred." He seems to end the call, flipping the phone close and slipping it back into his pocket. Matthew thinks that he can see the hint of a smile on his face.

So...Arthur already had a boyfriend? Matthew's shoulders slump. He chastises himself, It's your fault for thinking you would even have a chance with him.

The bell rings. Arthur has left. He hadn't found Matthew out yet.

Matthew doesn't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed.

. . .

"Either you really like Michael Jackson, or you're my personal stalker."

The sentence is so abrupt that Matthew actually stumbles backwards and runs into a shelf. The impact causes several CD cases to rain down on him. Mortified, he crouches down and hurries to pick them back up, hoping that Arthur was on his phone and not actually talking to him.

He hears footsteps and glances up to see that Arthur has moved around the rack that's been separating them for the past two weeks or so. The Englishman raises an eyebrow, almost haughtily. "Are you going to answer or not?" He kneels down in front of Matthew and begins helping.

"I'm not- I mean... I..." Matthew scrambles for something to say, but his eloquence has ditched him, and the stupid blush on his face is still growing. He wants to crawl in a hole and die, forever labeled a stalker.

Arthur looks amused. "You mean what?" he inquires. His rich English accent makes Matthew blush even harder.

"I..." Matthew busies himself with putting the CDs back. For once, he wishes that the saleswoman was out there so he wouldn't feel so cornered. "I'm Matthew Williams," he adds, hoping desperately to change the subject.

Then Arthur is standing next to him, sliding CDs back into place as well. "Arthur Kirkland." The sentence is short and curt.

I know, Matthew thinks. He turns redder. "P-Pleasure to meet you." He bites his tongue after that, scolding himself for the stutter. The Canadian baits his breath and wills himself not to run away.

"You didn't answer my question." Arthur is facing him now. In peripheral vision, Matthew sees his emerald green eyes staring in interest.

Matthew turns and runs out of the music store.

. . .

Matthew's neighbor is a quarterback at school, and apparently he's decided to have his teammates over that day. It's a Saturday, which means they'll probably stay the whole day. Matthew doesn't want to be their punching bag for the umpteenth time, so staying at home is out of the question. He doesn't really have any other friends either; therefore he can't go to the refuge of someone else's house. The only other place that pops into mind is the music store.

So, despite the great escape he'd made the day before, he finds himself walking the two blocks with a pocket full of money - because God knows how long he's been hiding out at the store, so he figures he should at least buy something.

Halfway there, someone grabs him from behind and pulls him into a dark alley. He's slammed against the dirty brick wall, and the impact makes his vision swirl. Not that he can see much to begin with.

A hand pins his arms above his head, and another one is moving to undo his belt. Panic fills Matthew's veins.

"J-Just take my money!" he finds himself pleading. "In my pocket! Please!"

A hand makes its way down his side, and for a moment Matthew thinks that he's really going to be raped, but the hand slips into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. After that, the body pinning to the wall is gone.

Matthew's legs give out. Nothing like this has ever happened before, and he didn't think that it would ever happen to him.

He doesn't know how long he stays there, hunched, heart pounding in fear, in the darkness of the alleyway. He doesn't know how many people pass by the opening and don't notice him, nor does he care. But eventually someone does.

"Matthew?" The voice sounds disbelieving. It's also coated in a thick, familiar accent. A figure appears into view, and Matthew almost sobs in relief.

He latches onto Arthur's shoulders as soon as the Englishman kneels beside him, fingernails digging into his coat, breathing in the sweet smell of tea and cinnamon.

Arthur doesn't question him. "There, there." He's patting Matthew's back soothingly. "Matthew? Can you stand?"

His legs are still weak, but he forces himself to stand. "Arthur?" he says, and it comes out as a breathy whisper. "I'm not your stalker." He doesn't know what he's saying anymore. He just wants to erase the feel of fingers grabbing at his belt, the horrid feel of being pinned, helpless-

"Of course you're not." Arthur chuckles. "My apartment is just across the street. Do you think you can make it?" He puts a hand on Matthew's shoulder to steady him.

Matthew nods without thinking. Arthur's presence makes him feel warm and safe. It also makes him feel even mortified, because here he was, going home with someone he's been spying on for the past two weeks. "Thank you," he utters along their way to the apartment.

Arthur squeezes his shoulder. "Don't mention it."

. . .

"He didn't do anything else to you, did he?"

Matthew is now sitting in the living room of Arthur Kirkland's apartment, sipping on a teacup filled with Earl Grey. He tries to look everywhere except Arthur, but Arthur has posed a question and Matthew is too polite not to make eye contact whilst answering.

Indigo meets emerald. "No," Matthew rasps. Be still, my beating heart, he thinks sourly, though his heart really is hammering. It doesn't help that he can feel Arthur's eyes glancing him over, checking for any visible injuries, and all the attention is unnerving. "Thank you," he adds in an attempt to save the conversation from an awkward silence.

It works.

Arthur's lips break into a smile. "For the umpteenth time, love, it's no problem."

At being called "love," Matthew's heart goes from hammering to threatening-to-break-out-of-his-ribcage. He stays silent.

"Though I suppose you can repay me by never running away from me again," Arthur continues. There's an amused undertone to his voice. He also sounds a bit flirtatious, but Matthew pushes that thought out of his mind.

"I'm sorry." The apology tumbles from his lips without much thought. It's almost a reflex nowadays. Matthew feels his anxiety worsen ten-fold. "For stalking you and for running away."

Arthur raises an eyebrow. "So you admit to stalking me?" He doesn't sound angry or annoyed, instead curious.

"Yes," Matthew confirms sheepishly.

"Ah."

Matthew almost exclaims, "That's all you have to say?" He racks his brain for a good excuse to leave the apartment and possibly move to another town out of embarrassment, but then Arthur stands up from his chair and walks around the coffee table to where Matthew is. "Arthur?" the Canadian questions when the Englishman puts a knee on the sofa.

"I wonder..." is all Arthur says before he presses his lips against the boy underneath him.

The kiss lasts for about five seconds, but when Arthur pulls away, Matthew is blushing a bright red and unable to form any coherent sentences. Arthur notices this and smirks.

"What was that?" Matthew finally manages. He's aware of how hysterical he sounds, but he has a pretty good reason to be. People don't kiss other people just like that, especially when the person they kissed is their stalker! Matthew puts his hands against Arthur's chest - ignoring the way it feels warm and broad under his touch - and pushes him off.

Arthur has the audacity to look hurt. "Don't you like me?" He furrows his eyebrows, looking terrifyingly serious.

Matthew stares up at him, bewildered. "Of course I-" He stops, realizing what Arthur has said. "M-Maple! What kind of a question is that?"

Purposely ignoring the question, Arthur leans in again. "Well, there must be some reason for your stalking me, correct?" he says. "Or maybe I'm just very interesting, but I find that hard to believe."

Matthew blinks several times. "You're very interesting?" he replies; it comes out more as a question. He hung his head in defeat, staring gloomily down at his lap. "Yes, I like you..."

Arthur places two fingers under Matthew's chin and gently tilts his head up until he's looking into his eyes. "Then let me kiss you again, you twit," he says, and kisses him again.

This time, Matthew doesn't push him away.

. . .

The next day is a Sunday, and usually Matthew's grumpy on Sundays, because the next day would be a Monday and that meant he had to go to school and deal with his classmates. However, on this particular day, he wakes up with a ridiculously happy smile on his face.

His mother shoots him a suspicious glance over her bagel, and his father looks amused, but Matthew ignores them.

At eleven o'clock in the morning, Matthew feels like he's already about to burst from excitement. He wishes that time would go faster; it's been some time since he has looked so forward to something.

He considers it as a good thing.

He almost doesn't make it, but eventually three-fifteen rolls around and he decides, It can't hurt to be early, right? So Matthew grabs his keys off the counter, practically shoves his feet into a pair of sneakers, and flies out the door with a call of "I'll be back soon!" to his parents.

His father glances at his mother, who merely shrugs. "He must be in love," she says.

. . .

Matthew forces himself to take calm, controlled steps on the way to the store. He can't wait to see Arthur again and this time be able to openly express his affections. He's so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn't notice where he's going until he bumps into someone's back.

"Oh, sorry about that, man."

In the middle of the sidewalk, a block away from the place that he would meet Arthur, Matthew Williams meets Alfred F. Jones.

Alfred has eyes that are as blue as the Pacific, peering at him behind half-rimmed glasses, his hair a rich shade of gold and looking ever smooth. His mouth is quirked up into a slightly apologetic smile, some flashes of white teeth visible past those lips. He's wearing a white t-shirt underneath a brown bomber jacket and skinny jeans that cling to his legs just perfectly. Not that Matthew's taking note of it...

"N-No, it was my fault," the slightly shorter blond stammers. "I wasn't looking."

"I'm Alfred F. Jones." The other male sticks a hand out. Matthew tentatively shakes it. "What's yours?"

Matthew gives him another wary glance before replying, "Matthew Williams."

"Cool." Alfred smiles warmly. "I have to go meet a friend right now, but how about you call me later and we'll go get some coffee?"

Matthew asks, "Why?" but Alfred ignores him, finding a small pen in his jacket's pocket and taking it out. Then he proceeds to take Matthew's arm and scribble something on his palm.

"Because you're cute, Mattie."

Matthew retracts his hand in one jerky motion, cheeks flushed at the abrupt compliment. His mind screams at him to decline the invitation, but he's much too polite for that, so he finds himself saying, "Okay."

Alfred's smile widens. "See you later." With a wink, he turns around and walks off, leaving Matthew quite dazed and confused.

. . .

Matthew ends up arriving at the store later than he initially intended, partly because he stopped by a McDonald's just to go to the bathroom and scrub the number off of his palm. By the time he walks through the door and the bell signals his arrival, Arthur is already there.

The Englishman is at the back at their usual spot. Matthew walks up to him and taps his shoulder, a little shy. "Hi, Arthur."

Arthur turns around at the sound of his voice, still holding a Sex Pistols album. It takes a moment for him to realize that Matthew's standing in front of him. "Oh, Matthew." And once he does, those emerald green eyes soften, and a small smile curves his lips. "You're unusually late today."

"I got distracted," Matthew says, shrugging with an abashed smile. "I met this boy-"

Before he can say any more, the bell chimes as someone else comes into the store. Confused, Matthew turns.

He almost falls backwards in surprise when he sees that it's Alfred.

"Hey, Artie!" Alfred calls out rather loudly. The woman at the register scowls at him, but he doesn't see her. Or maybe he's ignoring her, but either way, he just makes his way to the back.

"Hello, Alfred," Arthur replies. Then he asks, sounding cross, "What are you doing here?"

"What, I can't be curious as to where to you go every afternoon?"

"No, you can't."

"Sticks and stones, Artie."

"Wanker."

Matthew watches the exchange from the sidelines, eyes wide and mouth open in shock. He suddenly remembers the phone call that he'd overheard some time ago; he realizes that this must be the Alfred that Arthur was talking to. And Alfred was - is! - his boyfriend! But why did Arthur kiss him if he already had a boyfriend?

The Canadian opens his mouth to say something, though all that comes out is, "Maple..."

It's barely audible, but it's enough to gain Alfred's attention. The energetic blond turns towards him. "Oh, hey! I didn't see you there." He stares at Matthew expectantly, recognition flashing through Pacific blue eyes.

"Hi," Matthew squeaks.

"Matthew, this is my brother, Alfred F. Jones." Arthur gestures to the blond with a hand. "Alfred, this is my boyfriend, Matthew Williams."

Brother? Matthew echoes silently. Relief floods through him. "Pleasure to meet you." Again, he adds mentally, but doesn't say it out loud. He holds his hand out to Alfred for the second time that day.

"Pleasure's all mine." Alfred shakes his hand, smiling rather innocently.

Matthew wonders if he saw something flirtatious in his eyes, or if it was just his imagination. He withdraws his hand, feeling very self-conscious about the red mark on his palm from where he'd scrubbed a phone number off.

"I was planning to take you somewhere, Matthew," Arthur says, "but I suppose we can't, now that this git is here."

Alfred fakes a distressed pout. "Aw, you're no fun. I'd tag along in your little date, but you're my bro, so that's kinda wrong." He gives a small salute. "I have to go meet someone, anyway."

"Hopefully that someone will be able to make you act more decent." Arthur rolls his eyes and turns around to replace the music album he'd been holding.

"You never know, Artie." Alfred, catching Matthew's gaze, winks. The action goes unnoticed by his brother, who turns back around with an oblivious look.

"Don't call me that-"

"Bye, Artie," Alfred interrupts the Englishman mid-rant. His eyes glaze over Matthew's face again. "Bye, Matt."

He's out of the music store before Matthew can blink.

Arthur asks, "Are you okay, Matthew? You look quite flushed."

Matthew realizes with a sinking feeling that things are about to get very complicated.

A/N: I'm hitting a mental road block for Love Letter, A Pirate's Life For Me, and all of my other multi-chaptered fics, so I decided to make another multi-chaptered fic. FML.

More UK/Can/US love triangle madness from me. But you know you love it~ /shot

In coincidence to the love triangle and the title, this will be broken up in three parts. They're probably not going to be as long as this first chapter, but somewhere around the 2000-word mark. And Matthew will end up with one of them. I just haven't decided who yet...

This'll be updated whenever I get around to finishing the second part. No promises that it'll be in less than a week, what with summer ending soon and all. ;P