Okay. Ever since I watched a video on youtube putting "El Tango de Roxanne" to Spamano, I've been addicted with the song! X3
I LOVE it! Soooo, I made it fit US x UK. XD It's gonna be all full of dram and STUFF.
And like Moulin Rouge, it's set back in, like, 1899. So..yeah. XD
Please read and enjoy!~
P.S. I'm still working on "The Trip", so don't worry!
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this fanfiction, nor the series they come from. I also do not own the song "El Tango de Roxanne" from Moulin Rouge. The all belong to their respectful owners.
Roxanne
You don't have to put on that red light
Walk the streets for money
You don't care if it's wrong or if it is right
Roxanne
You don't have to wear that dress tonight
Roxanne
You don't have to sell your body to the night
Arthur stood outside the illustrious Hetalian Ballroom in the cold, winter air wearing a long, dark green coat. He was freezing. He rubbed his hands up and down his arm, trying to warm them with every movement. He looked left and right every few seconds, causing his bright, blonde hair to fly around-he seemed to be looking for someone. Dozens of people passed by: children, families, couples. He continued to look. And then...he saw him. Him. The one man he least wanted to see in the entire world.
The man's head was topped with golden-blonde, wavy hair that came down to his shoulders. A small fuzz of hair sprouted from his chin. He was dressed in a dark blue suit with a red tie around the collar. The air around him seemed to scream arrogant. Arthur's eyes grew into giant, emerald orbs with shock. He didn't expect him to be there; not tonight. He darted inside the building, seeking safe refuge.
Across the street, a man with dirty-blond hair, dressed in a jet-black suit, watched the scene unfold in front of him from afar. He stood behind a pole, foolishly thinking it hid him from everyone's sight. People stared at him as they passed, but he didn't care.
All he cared about was Arthur.
He watched as the man in the blue suit waltzed into the building after Arthur. A pang of worry ran through him, and without hesitation, he hurried across the street, following the target and his pursuer into the building.
Arthur felt a hand grasp his wrist. He felt himself being pulled back forcefully, the unknown entity twisting him around in the process. His face bumped into something sturdy, but soft. He opened his eyes. A jacket. A shirt. A person.
Oh no...he thought with horror.
Arthur looked up to find a dark, blue eyed stare boring into his face. Its lips were curled up into a smug smile and its eyes narrowed seductively. Arthur felt his stomach turn...
"Hello, Angelterre," it mused.
He's got me...
"What....what are you doing here?" Arthur asked frantically.
The Frenchman chuckled. "Why...I came to see you."
The man's smile grew wider. A shiver of fear ran down Arthur's spine. The man placed his free hand on the small of Arthur's back and drew him closer as the slow music played in the background. He began to sway, back and forth, forcing Arthur to move along with him.
"Wh-what are you doing?!" he shouted.
"Why, Angelterre...we're in a ballroom. And in a ballroom, it is necessary to dance. Look around you: everyone is dancing~." Arthur did what he was told. The man was right-numerous amounts of couples spun and twirled around them. But unlike those happy couples, he did not like being in the arms of the other.
He swept his head from side to side, frantically searching for a way out-anything to get him out of this predicament. But much to his despair, he found nothing that could help him.
He was trapped.
"Angelterre..." the man whispered, "I know I told you you didn't have to wear the dress anymore..." He lowered his head down near Arthur's neck.
Arthur flinched. That dress he was talking about. That huge black, frilly, dress. The dress he wore in order seem like a woman...in order to seem attractive...in order to...to-
"But it was so hot..." The man ran his lips against the skin on his cheek.
Arthur's eyes grew wide and his stomach tightened. He felt sick.
"You know...if you just became mine..." the man breathed, "You wouldn't have to do what you do...for money..." The man continued to move his lips downward, brushing against the skin on Arthur's neck. Arthur's stomach twisted into even more knots. He felt like throwing up- no, he almost threw up. He felt tears brim on the edges of his eyes. He wanted to let them fall, to let it all go.
He hated this man. Hated him with every being in his body-he never should have gotten involved with him in the first place! He knew better. But when you're depressed, alone, and in desperate need of money, you do anything to numb the pain. Anything. And now, there was no escape. Now, he would be chased for the rest of his life by the most disgusting man on the planet.
How can there be men this sick and twisted in this world? he thought as they continued to sway on the dance floor.
His eyes upon your face
Alfred watched the two men swaying from side to side from a wooden table in the deepest corner of the ballroom. He felt a fire burn in his chest. He watched as the arrogant man set his eyes on Arthur's face, how his eyes swept from his forehead to his lips...
Stop it, he thought. His eyes narrowed in anger and his lips turned down into a scowl. A low growl emitted from his throat.
His hand upon your hand
He looked at the pair's hands: Arthur's small, delicate hand was completely consumed by the taller man's. The man rubbed his thumb across his skin. He saw Arthur shiver.
Don't touch him!
Alfred dug his long fingers into the side of the table. The rugged wood easily gave way to Alfred's monstrous strength, caving in at the spots where he pressed. His face was hot. Burning. The other dancers in the room temporarily disappeared from his sight. All he saw was Arthur, the man, and red.
His lips caress your skin
He watched as the man lowered his head, closer and closer to Arthur's neck, until his lips brushed his pale skin-Alfred could practically feel those knives stabbing into his heart. His grip tightened on the table.
Is more than I can stand!
CRUNCH!
A large chunk of the table came off into Alfred's hand. Splinters pierced his skin, but he felt no pain; his senses were blinded by intense rage and jealousy.
He wanted to let it out.
He wanted to scream, 'Get your filthy hands off him! I'll kill you!' But the words never escaped his lips. He was prevented from saying them. Because he saw it.
The look.
As the man and Arthur turned full circle, he caught a glimpse of Arthur's eyes. His beautiful, emerald eyes were halfway closed as if he were asking , pleading, for someone to save him. Alfred could see the teardrops, ready to fall, sparkling ever so brightly in the corners of his eyes.
Alfred stood up. The twirling couples in front of him seemed to part, providing a straight path to his love and the taller man. He put one foot forward, and another followed. And slowly, but surely, the blonde began to make his way over towards the two figures on the other end of the ballroom, determined to save his love.
I hope you guys enjoyed it! :3
I'd like to thank my friend, sweet ticket for the extensive editing she did! *APPLAUSE* I thank you very much, my friend! Couldn't have made it this good without your editing skills! Thanks again!
Well, was it good? Was it bad? Did you love it? Did you hate it?
Please review and tell me what you think! I'd really appreaciate it! =)
Chapter 2 coming soon!~