Arthur ducked and weaved through the crowd of gyrating bodies packed into the Pi Rho Omega frat house. The crowd was doing this ridiculous dance to an even more ridiculous Swedish song and flying elbows had almost knocked his drink from his hands onto his acid green tank top. Not that anyone would really notice since his drink was the same color. It was the fact that his shirt would be wet and the spilling his drink would be a waste of good booze that he was most concerned about rather than staining the shirt itself.
I really need to ask Gilbert how he managed to get it this green in the first place. Ah, there he is… and he's got Lovino. Better go and save him.
Arthur stumbled forward toward the kitchen, losing track of his legs in the darkened room thanks to his tight black super skinny jeans and short black combat boots. He finally managed to free himself of the throngs of dancing university students celebrating the first day of freedom from spring semester midterms, carefully keeping his empty cup from either being knocked from his hands to the floor and crushed under stomping feet or stolen from his grasp by a particularly annoying Frenchman. An annoying Frenchman, he noticed, that just so happened to be standing at his final destination.
Well fuck me sideways with a rusty mother fucking chainsaw. Is rescuing Lovino really worth it?
Even as he approached the kitchen, he continued to mull over the pros and cons of rescuing the poor freshman. He'd just made it past the food table and his platter of untouched scones when he caught Lovino and Gilbert's conversation.
"Figlio di puttana, are you trying to give me radiation poisoning?" The younger man exclaimed, trying to shove the cup that Gilbert has given him back into the white blond graduate student's hands.
"Pff, no. If I wanted to do that I'd just feed you one of Arthur's 'scones.'" Gilbert joked back at Lovino.
To add insult to injury, Gilbert used heavy air quotes around the word scones like they weren't a gift and fucking FREE. Arthur picking up one of the obviously offending pastries and pitched it with a surprising amount of strength and accuracy at Gilbert's head. Unfortunately, the white blond man had seen the attack coming and ducked before it could hit him in the face. The scone instead knocked the crown, Who the fuck let this idiot have a crown?, off and made contact with the wall behind him, making a sound that even Arthur had to admit didn't sound quite right.
"See if I cook you anything ever again you ungrateful sack of dog shite!" Arthur stepped into view of the small group of people standing in front of the largest collection of alcohol Arthur had ever seen on a college campus.
Gilbert dusted off his crown, replacing it on his head at an even jauntier angle with a deep sigh. "I'll hold you to that, Lerche."
Arthur stomped over snatching the cup of radioactive looking liquid from Gilbert's hand and drained it. He shot the ruby eyed older male one of his patented glares and spat out a slightly slurred "Fuck You."
"Charming as ever Arthur."
A chill shot up Arthur's spine at the voice that spoke up. Before he could turn and deliver one of the insults he kept on reserve for annoying Frenchmen, he was distracted by the reason he came to the kitchen in the first place. "Oh, hello Lovino. Lovely to see you again. How have you been?"
Lovino visibly twitched at being addressed by the forest eyed senior, not that Arthur was really paying attention anyway. "Nice to see you too, Arthur. I've been well."
"Oh you two know each other?" Gilbert piped up after the awkward exchange.
Arthur directed his attention to the pale haired man glancing back and forth between him and Lovino. "Well yes. Lovino was-"
"So what the hell is the green shit in the bowl?" Lovino bluntly changed the subject, earning a strange look from the surrounding seniors and Gilbert. Arthur chose to ignore Lovino's outburst. He had been somewhat bizarre since last competition.
Almost like he wishes he could forget his past. Poor kid.
"Kesesese, I call it 'King of the Jungle'" Gilbert's laugh was almost ominous but Arthur was far too thirsty and far too sober to actually care. "It's mein own secret blend of Jungle Juice."
That sounds really fucking ominous but again, too sober to actually care about the consequences right now.
"It's horribly weak." Arthur stared down into his now empty cup in disappointment. "Although I must say, it's rather impressive how you managed to make it this color. Most jungle juice I've come across is some variation of red." Gilbert took Arthur's cup from his fingers, refilling it from bowl of radioactive looking ooze.
"It's actually stronger than I'd like to admit. Mostly because it's probably over some legal limit." He handed Arthur his refilled cup and watched the ash blond down half his drink in one gulp with a wince. "Besides the best kind of jungle juice is the kind that doesn't let you know how drunk you are until you wake up naked and handcuffed to a forklift in the middle of an Ikea the next morning. He topped off Arthurs drink once more and held it up to the light, making it look even more radioactive. "As for the color, everyone seems to forget that I am a chemistry genius. This sort of thing is child's play for me, lerche."
Arthur took his cup back and sipped slowly from it rather than downing the whole thing like he'd been doing most of the night.
Well that would explain the ominous feeling from before.
Rather than voicing his thoughts about the suspicious drink flooding his system, Arthur protested in offence to Gilbert's nickname for him.
"Stop calling me that, I'm not a bloody lark."
Why the fuck is everyone a bird to Gil anyway?
"But it fits you so well." Francis spoke for the first time since his initial address of the shorter blond. A familiar predatory gleam shined behind his eyes. "Not much to look at, and with a voice that's fairly pleasant at first, but starts grating on the nerves after listening to it for a while." Francis slinked past Lovino toward Arthur, eyeing him like prey he wouldn't let escape. The air in the kitchen suddenly seemed heavier and carried a spark as the familiar tension the pair of blonds had been dancing around for years, seeped and spread throughout the surrounding area. "However," Francis stepped within the shorter blonde's breathing space, "if you know how to prepare it properly, lark can be quite…delicious"
Arthur felt his cheeks heat up with embarrassment and immediately covered it by taking another sip cup of ominous radioactive ooze.
The frog's not playing around this time. Better be careful tonight.
"I pity whatever poor creature you end up eating then. What an absolutely dreadful way to go." Arthur intended to briefly glance up at Francis to gauge a reaction but the moment he caught the Frenchman's eye he knew he made a mistake.
"I must disagree." Francis' voice had dropped to a sultry whisper as smirked. "There are entire flocks of birds that would be thrilled with the chance to grace my palate." Arthur noted the Francis' pupils had blown wide, almost wiping out the ocean color of his irises. He needed to make his escape before he ended up on Francis' menu.
"Well then" Arthur slid past him, making for the exit, " better grab you shot gun and take aim, frog face." He glanced over his shoulder at Francis and gave a teasing 'come play with me' wink before melting into the crowd.
Francis smirked, running his fingers through his shoulder length golden blond hair and tying it back in a short ponytail. He rolled his shoulder under the deep burgundy sleeveless button up. He directed he body and attention toward the direction that his prey had fled, ignoring the serious slightly puzzled expression on Gilbert's face, an expression he and Antonio call Gilbert's 'solving equations face', he let out a quiet chuckle that bordered on a predatory growl and mumbled just loud enough for his two companions to hear "Let the hunt begin." He licked his bottom lip and stalked out of the kitchen.
Arthur watched Francis exit the kitchen from his hiding place behind the DJ booth. He slipped Vash five bucks for keeping lookout for him and letting him hide behind him before slipping out amongst the crowd. He had just let out a sigh of relief when he felt someone tap his shoulder and he nearly hit the ceiling with how hard he jumped.
"Whoa Arthur, calm down. I just wanted a picture." A female voice said from his left side. Coming down from his near heart attack he recognized the light brunette hair held back by a green head band and a professional looking Nikon camera in her hand.
"Hello Liz. Sorry about that. I'm hiding from Francis." Arthur explained with a nervous smile and adjusted his tight jeans that shifted lower on his hips when he jumped.
"Again? I thought you two had sorted out your issues and were fucking on a semi-regular basis." Liz adjusted the focus on her camera and directed it at Arthur. "Hold still for me."
"Arthur paused with his cup resting on his lower lip and glanced at Elizabeta out of the corner of his eye. He cocked a large bushy eyebrow at the older woman's comment. "Why would you think something like that?" He blinked rapidly after the flash from Liz's camera temporarily blinded him. As soon as he could see clearly again, he saw the brunette examining the picture she'd just snapped of him with a smile. "Well?"
"Well what? Oh right, you and Francis. It's a rumor going around the grad student offices. The TA for your dance class was talking about how in sync you guys have been in class. She said it's something she hasn't seen in any pair of dancers that hadn't hooked up at least once." She lifted the camera up to eye level, poised to take another picture. "So are you, or is that all complete bullshit?"
"Well of course it's bullshite! Why in the world would I want to shag that frog?" Arthur glared in offence at Liz snapped another picture of him.
"Sweet, Irina owes me lunch on Monday!" Liz whooped victoriously.
"What? What are you talking about? You all were making bets on you student's sex lives?" Arthur's usual tenor voice jumped up an octave at the knowledge that the graduate students were making bets on who was sleeping with whom outside of class.
"Well of course. We need something else to do besides complaining about the extra papers we get stuck with when profs get too lazy to grade them." Liz put a friendly arm around his bare shoulders. "Don't look so hurt. We do it to each other too. We've got a long standing betting pool on who's gonna get into Kiku from Engineering's pants first. My money is on Heracles from Philosophy, Irina thinks it's gonna be Sadik from Anthropology, King Dumbass thinks it's gonna be both. But we don't pay attention to him since Heracles and Sadik hate each other." Liz laughed at the judgmental expression crossing Arthur's face.
"You guys are horrible. Love lives are not something to be bet on! How can you-"
"Where oh where has my little lark gone." Francis' voice cut through the crowd, drifting and floating above the music closely followed by Francis himself. He was coming right toward Liz and Arthur but he couldn't see Arthur beyond Elizabeta and her camera. She quickly took several pictures of the approaching Frenchman and whispered to the suddenly panicking Arthur.
"I'll send him in a different direction. Run Arthur."
"Liz you are a saint among sinners. Thank you." Arthur beamed up at her and slid back into the crowd, keeping an ear out for which way Liz was going to send Francis so he could go the opposite direction.
This is going to be a long night.
Well? How fun was that? Okay so this story focuses on how everyone in The Rhythm of Freedom got to where they are. We'll see some familiar faces as well as a few new ones and hopefully you all will enjoy this just as much as you did the original work. So translation time
Figlio di puttana (Italian)-Son of a whore
Yay Lovi and his potty mouth.
Also characters mentioned but not shown:
Irina- Ukraine
Anywhoo, this story will be focusing more on each characters background with each other before the dance and music takes over. So if you came for the dancing, stick around for a bit, it's on its way. So that should be it for relatively important things. Please leave comments, questions, gripes, constructive criticisms. I always do my best to respond and the comments always give me inspiration to keep going. So yeah, I've probably bored you so I'm gonna go! See you next time ~