Hi everyone and welcome to the first chapter of Infinities on Empty Pages! Hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Swearing.

Disclaimer: It's called fan fiction...? So no I do not own it

Standing outside his temporary apartment in downtown Ottawa, Canada, Alfred F. Jones wasn't quite sure what to think.

He knew it wouldn't be like his home in New York. He wasn't expecting anything like it. Truth be told, he wasn't quite sure what he was expecting.

"Go out and explore the world. Go on an adventure. Observe everything and notice every detail. Make something extraordinary out of the ordinary. You're a writer, and you're young. You need something new once in a while. Something to inspire you."

That was what his editor, Elizabeta told him, after he told her that he was having writer's block for too long now and he really needed to get his book done. During their conversation a couple days ago, he was expecting to be sent to Paris or something, not a small city 7 hours away. Even though it was the capital of Canada, second biggest country in the world, it was still a pretty small city.

Alfred breathed a deep, discouraged sigh as he looked down the street and watched the multicoloured cars rush by. His editor dropped him off about 5 minutes ago and left him on the sidewalk with his luggage and a quick goodbye. Maybe if he ran, he could catch up to her. Maybe, if she hit enough red lights. Maybe, if there was a car crash or something to delay traffic. Maybe, if he was a fucking superhero.

Someone rushed by him with a quiet "excuse me" and snapped him back into focus. He would never get used to these Canadians, with their excessive politeness and their resistance against the cold and their strange addiction to anything maple flavored. God knows how they do it. Weirdos.

He turned back to the door leading into the apartment building and sighed, again. He was stuck in an unknown city filled with unknown people with the single purpose, which was to see the extraordinary in the ordinary, and he wasn't even quite sure what that meant. Looking up, he let a slight smile grace his face. You know what? Fuck it. He's an optimist. He could make a good situation out of this. Even if it's not as good as he hoped for, he's only there for a month anyways. He's Alfred F. Jones. He'll survive.

Carrying all of his luggage, which wasn't very much, inside in one try, he went up the elevator to his floor. He wasn't sure what the apartment would look like. It was actually Eliza's friend's apartment, but he was away on a trip to Europe or some shit. He'd never actually met this guy before. He didn't even know if he knew he was staying there. Eliza seemed to think it was ok, so he figured it was fine…

Sticking the key he got from her in the lock, spending quite some time shaking it and re-inserting it repeatedly before hearing the 'click', he swung open the door. It was a relatively big apartment, cleaner than he thought, with a kitchen, bathroom, living room, bedroom, basic furniture and a grand piano filling up part of the living room. He could survive here for a month. Sure it wasn't his messy, cozy apartment back home, but it was alright. Plus it had a pretty nice looking tv.

Stepping in cautiously, he noticed a note on the counter.

To Eliza's friend,

I assume Eliza's told you the basics, but a few extra things. Door lock is a bit dysfunctional, but jiggle it a bit and it should be fine. If you want hot water for your showers, I suggest having them early in the morning. If anything is needed apartment wise, contact the landlord. I've thrown out most of the food, so you're on your own for that. Also, Eliza and I have a mutual acquaintance named Gilbert that you can contact if needed. Phone number is on the back, along with mine, though I probably won't be able to answer. I want everything the way it was when I left after you leave.

Also, don't touch the piano.

Roderich

So Eliza's friend did know he was here. Alfred was grateful towards him for letting him use his apartment (and not pay the rent for the month) but he had to say, judging from the writing, he was slightly glad he never met him.

"Sounds like a bitch…" He muttered as he set his stuff down on the floor. He really wasn't in the mood to put his stuff away, so he was at a loss for what to do. He figured, after a few moments of pondering his options, he might as well call this Gilbert, maybe go out for a drink. He's heard of him a couple times from Eliza as she mentioned he lived in Ottawa as well, and he sounded like an interesting character. He whipped out his phone, dialed the number and waited, tapping his foot impatiently on the tiled floor.

"Hey, I'm too busy to talk right now so leave a message at the beep and I'll get back to you later." Alfred pressed the disconnect button before leaving a message, raising his eyebrow at the screen. That was not what he was expecting. Eliza described him as an energetic, kind of crazy type of guy, but his calm and collected voice destroyed the image of him Alfred had made in his head. Either way, he was sure they would get along once he could get ahold of him.

Meanwhile, he was still bored. Maybe he would go explore. That's what he was sent here to do, anyways.

An hour later, he was wandering around downtown Ottawa. It was nothing like his beloved New York, but now that he was in a better mood, he was starting to see how pretty it was. Snow was falling lightly down onto the streets where lights from restaurants and stores lit up the dark night. Couples walked by him, chatting and holding hands, while the occasional child ran by wearing those red Canada mittens from the 2010 Olympics. Groups of college students wandered around as well, making loud jokes and pushing each other into the piles of snow on the side of the sidewalk. Alfred observed while he walked, taking every interesting detail and storing it in his head for future reference. It wasn't New York, but it was pretty nice nonetheless.

Alfred flipped open his phone, and seeing that it was 8 o'clock, decided it was still early enough to grab something to eat and head home. Now normally, he would head to the closest burger joint and order two of the biggest burgers they had. But this wasn't a normal circumstance. Alfred figured he'd try something different. Eliza would be proud of him. He'd reward himself with a burger dinner some other time.

Stepping into a cozy-looking diner, he found a seat by the window and settled down, ordering a coffee and some fancy sandwich that he'd picked randomly off their menu. Staring absent-mindedly out of the window, he couldn't help but be reminded of the day at the café with Eliza.

"Writers block? Easy. Change of scenery should help. It helps with most other authors."

"Change of scenery? What, are you suggesting I go for a week-long hiking trip or something? That's not happening. You know I love my technology."

"No, dumbass. I'm just suggesting that maybe you should get out of New York for a bit. A different city might give you more ideas." Alfred twirling his spoon around in his untouched latte, eyeing Eliza suspiciously.

"Eliza, you are both my editor and a good friend, but I'm not quite sure where you're going with this. I love New York and I'm not quite sure I want to leave." Elizabeta sighed, tapping her pen against the table. Alfred knew this was a habit of hers that she did whenever she was starting to get annoyed and that he should slow down with the questions. But leave New York? He was finally living in the city he'd always dreamed of and she's asking him to leave? He wasn't quite sure what to say.

"Come on. Where's your youthful spirit? Most people like you would be jumping at a chance like this." He grumbled, starting to get a bit irritated as well.

"I get can ideas perfectly fine here. I don't need a change of scenery."

"Jesus, Al. I hope you haven't forgotten that you haven't actually published a book yet. You're not an expert. I suggest you take some advice from people sometimes." Alfred sighed loudly and let go of spoon, letting it bounce off the sides of his cup, as he put his hands up.

"Fine, fine. But where exactly are you suggesting?" At this, the Hungarian smiled, taking a set of keys out from her pocket and dangling them in front of her face.

"Well, it just so happens that a friend of mine who lives in Ottawa is going on a month-long trip to Europe in a couple days. Just enough time for you to go out, get inspired and come back, right?"

"Ottawa? That's not too far…"

"See? Perfect. We'll leave in a couple days."

"A couple days!? But what about my apartment?"

"Just pack some things and leave it! It's only a month, Al. You're coming back."

"Fine, fine. Wait, what do you mean by 'we'll leave'? Are you coming?"

"I'm dropping you off. You're not going to have a car, which means you'll have to take public transportation everywhere. Public transportation can be very inspiring. You never know what sort of people you'll meet!"

"You're insane."

"Hey. J. got her idea for Harry Potter while on a train and look where she is now. If you want to be as successful as her, you should learn from her."

"I'm sure she didn't take the train on purpose so that she could come up with a book plot."

"Shut up, you get what I mean. But really, I'm sure this would be good for you. Go out and explore the world!"

"Okay, I get it. I already said I would go."

"Great! While you're there, I want you to do one thing."

"Didn't you just say you wanted me to explore and be inspired?"

"Yes, but more specifically." Eliza grinned and looked up at Alfred. "I want you to find the extraordinary in the ordinary."

"…What?"

"Find the extraordinary in the ordinary. That's how books get their magic. Good authors know how to take something boring and make it interesting. If you want to be a good author, that's what you need to learn to do."

"Okay… Like? Any examples?"

"Hm…" This put Eliza into deep thought, as she was an editor, not a writer, and she wasn't quite as experienced at this as a writer would be. "Like… The way a barista makes your coffee. It's something so normal, and most people would just take their coffee and walk away. But a writer would notice the way their fingers dance around the cup, all the precise movements that a normal person wouldn't notice. Or the things you can tell about a person just by looking at their eyes. A normal person would just classify it as a pair of eyes, but an author could see all the person's emotions in them. That's extraordinary. And that's what I want you to do." Alfred raised his eyebrows, impressed with his editor.

"Damn. Maybe you should be the writer." Eliza smiled warmly, taking a sip of her drink.

"Thanks, but no thanks. Writing's not really my thing. But do you get what I'm saying?"

"Yeah. I'll give it a shot."

"Great. Because we really need to get that manuscript of yours finished."

"Yeah, I know. Hopefully it'll be done in a month."

Alfred sighed, gazing at the figures that walked by him on the other side of the glass. The extraordinary in the ordinary… Like what? He groaned, frustrated, and decided to send Eliza a text.

To: Eliza

From: Al

Do you want to explain to me this whole extraordinary thing again

He put his phone down, glancing around the restaurant a bit when his phone made a quiet 'ding' noise, indicating a text.

To: Al

From: Eliza

Okay… First off, think of a bunch of things that you think are extraordinary

Well this is a hard one. Ghandi. He's extraordinary. Superheroes. They're extraordinary. The taste of burgers. That's extraordinary. He wasn't quite sure if this was what Eliza was looking for, though.

To: Eliza

From: Al

I'm not too sure where you're going with this

To: Al

From: Eliza

Hm, nevermind. Just observe the things around you and you'll know when you see it. You should probably write them down too just in case you want to look over them for inspiration.

To: Eliza

From: Al

Alright...

Mildly annoyed and a little confused, Alfred turned his phone off and slipped it in his pocket. He still wasn't quite sure what to look for. The smile on that little girl's face as walked past the diner holding her mom's hand? That could be extraordinary. But it could also just be cute. The glow of the light from the street lamp reflecting off the pavement? That could be extraordinary. The way that couple looked at each other, with love filling their eyes? That could be extraordinary. That puppy who's out for a walk, jumping through the January snow with joy? That could be extraordinary. But none of it really felt quite right to Alfred. It might be pretty, or eye-catching, but he wasn't quite sure if any of this was really extraordinary.

"Here's your sandwich and your coffee. Enjoy!"

"Yeah, thanks-"

Those eyes.

Those gorgeous violet eyes on the gorgeous waiter's face.

Alfred froze, stunned, as the waiter gave him a slightly curious, completely perfect grin.

That.

That was extraordinary.

Writing writers is fun.

^Say that 5 times fast I couldn't

Reviews are super duper appreciated and are what keeps the chapters coming~