"I kind of want to be an astronaut, but I'm pretty sure you're supposed to have perfect vision for it, or something like that," Alfred said, asking the minutes-old question that he had refused to answer earlier. Arthur looked over to him from the other side of the table that sat in the corner of the library, their new little getaway. It wasn't the central library - the enormous one, with bustling with students looking for last-minute study aids, but the small, cozy one on the third floor at the end of the hall. It was typically abandoned; even the librarian usually attended to other matters downstairs. But Arthur liked to study here, and that meant Alfred did as well.
"Yes, I do think that might be a requirement," Arthur offered the boy a small smile. Alfred only did the same in return, trying his best to focus his concentration on his English homework. "But, I think you could get close to it - being from America, you should work for NASA, right? You've got a high mark in your physics class, which you take with all upperclassmen, I might add, and for all you maths and sciences. You're well on your way already, you just have to work on it."
"Hey, could you help me with this?" Alfred asked, feeling guilty about suddenly brushing off his friend's kind words. "I've only written the heading and it's been thirty minutes."
"You should have said something sooner," Arthur replied, coating himself in a new layer of the thick, sticky feeling of constantly being a little pissed off.
"Okay, but first, can I make a deal with you?" the glasses-clad boy cut in, moments before handing over his notebook to his study partner. Arthur's minor annoyance from before grew slightly, like a kettle just starting to boil over and squeal.
"That depends on what you're asking of me," Arthur's English accent was gradually becoming more and more defined as the conversation drudged on, but he maintained his half of a smile. "Please, don't make it ridiculous."
"Well, I'll promise to be more diligent about my English homework if you promise to take me out on a date," Alfred was grinning and looking around aimlessly, not understanding how suicidal most would consider the question. And yet, here the kid was, just popping it out - I mean, at the tender age of fifteen, this kind of request is practically a marriage proposal.
"M-most definitely not!" Arthur shouted, gripping his World History book in defiance, and also, I might add, blushing like a fucking maniac. "I might be into guys, Alfred, but I'm not that desperate."
"What are you talking about, dude?" Alfred propped up his head up with his fist, a bit annoyed himself with his own befuddlement. "Why would going out with me make you desperate?"
"Well . . . I . . . don't try to make me feel bad about this, you git!"
[ hella cute usuk ]
Alfred Jones was rather loud and dorky, there on a scholarship and straight from an unstable home in the heart of the United States. He smiled a lot, he raised his hand a lot in class (usually bombarding teachers with stupid questions), and was (to a certain extent) oblivious to his lack of popularity. Alfred also had pretty, blue, glasses-clad eyes and a ridiculously large crush on the boy who sat in front of him in Literature.
His name was Arthur Kirkland. Arthur was an English boy with blonde hair, and a disliking for people of a loud kind. Excluding Alfred Jones, of course - I mean, even I've caught him staring at the boy behind him when the teacher looks away. And for the record, Arthur's got plenty of friends in his lunch period. Sitting with Alfred and his Canadian friend is purely his choice.
[ basically, arthur and alfred attend an international academy in england. whoo. ]