Heyy, I've been gone for such a long time but im better at writing and got lots of freetime! This is just the beginning/intro parts, I'll also be posting this on my ao3 account when i am off the waiting list haha. Thanks for reading and Enjoy.
Matthew Prologue
"Now, sweetheart, state your name and grade level along with the name of song you are going to be singing and monologue you will be performing." Ms. Brinks was a kind teacher. With short white hair and a spirit made for taking care of children, she helps Mr. Cunningham with auditions. Mr. Cunningham tends to have a rude demeanor about him. Like the Simon Cowell of high school musical theatre. Adored and feared by talented and untalented students alike.
Matthew is one of these students. He begins to shake his hands around. Attempting to try and stop himself from shaking so much. He remembers what his cousin told him, to breathe in and out and bear in mind that he knows what he is doing. Matthew's hands become much to clammy. He starts to rub them off on his ankle rolled kakis when he hears "next" being called out.
Each step Matthew takes is taken with an inhale, followed by an exhale. He stands lengthy and shaking in front of Ms. Brinks and Mr. Cunningham. They have a camera rolling for each audition so that they may review them later. Matthew's throat suddenly feels much too dry. He thinks to himself that if it gets too raspy his voice will crack. He tugs the end of his sweater sleeves over his hands and smiles softly. Matthew had never sung in front of anyone besides his cousin and parents. He was always very shy and hoped that theatre would give him the chance to open up and show people what he is capable of.
Ms. Brinks repeats what she told the other student. "State your name and grade level along with the name of the song you are going to be singing and the monologue you will be performing." She gives a nod with a smile. Mr. Cunningham narrows his eyes in focus, hand over mouth he leans back, waiting for the student to begin.
"Hello, My name is Matthew-"
"Speak up," an annoyed voice interrupts. It's Mr. Cunningham, of course. "You can't speak like that on a stage, microphone or not you must project." Matthew felt the theatre teacher's eyes change from focused to straight up glaring. Perhaps upset that Matthew might be wasting his time.
"Right, I'm sorry." With a louder voice, Matthew begins again: "My name is Matthew Williams. I'm a sophomore and I'll be singing Empty Chairs at Empty Tables then doing a monologue piece from Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream." Matthew breathes in and then out. He opens his mouth and begins.
Alfred Prologue
Laughter fills the penthouse. Laughter, smoke, moaning. All the wonderful things you can access at a Hollywood party. Alfred was hosting this one and when Alfred hosted he makes sure to bring and provide all the necessities in order to throw an amazing party. Alcohol flows through the crowd on a tray. The music bangs so hard no one can hardly think let alone speak. If speaking wanted to be done it was shouted or done in private. And drugs swarm in through trusted men, and they bring with them suitcases filled with all types of drugs. One other necessity that you can access and enjoy is Alfred Jones. Charming and more handsome then the devil himself, he is the main attraction to such fine parties.
He sits at his piano, singing loudly while banging rhythms on the keys. A crowd of stars and models and party-goers alike stand around laughing, crooning along with him. Everyone is drunk and if they aren't just drunk they are definitely getting high.
A super model puts her hand on Alfred's chest and begins to caress up and down it. With her other hand she takes a puff from her weed. As Alfred sings his voice begins to taper off as the dope is waved in front of his face. He quickly takes a toke from it then giggles. The model begins to kiss his neck as he continues smoking and passing. He takes drinks in between the puffs and when the pot is finished, someone lays lines of cocaine on top of the piano.
Time seems to slow. Alfred can feel his breath getting heavier, from the drinking mixed with the pot and over-excitement, most-likely. Feeling so slow he attempts to move as fast as he can. Standing up quickly, he knocks down the model and almost falls backward over the piano bench. While attempting to grab the 100 dollar bill his friend offers as a straw for the cocaine, he misses and knocks someone down. To be fair though, the were already stumbling their way down. Instead of apologizing, everyone, and Alfred included, begins to crack up uncontrollably.
Another model grabs the dollar bill. She holds it between her long fingers and the green from the money mixes with her red fingernails. She kisses it, leaving a lipstick stain on it then proceeds to roll it up. She takes Alfred by the back of the head and pulls him towards her. She gives a sloppy kiss and while doing so Alfred is gripping his piano. Then she lowers his head down to the cocaine, puts the money-straw to his nose and guides him along the three lines. Alfred's grip begins to loosen on the piano. Slowly he lets go fully then falls to ground.
Alfred doesn't remember anything else.
The waiting room is obnoxious to Alfred. it uses orange lighting and brown furniture to make the room feel calm. Mainly, it just pisses him off. One of the workers, a black lady with a gap in her smile. brings out all of Alfred's stuff to him. "I charged your phone for you before you got out. I felt someone like you is probably dying to go on social media." She's a very compassionate person. Must be why she chose a job like this.
"I have been missing those extremely interesting Kardashian tweets."
"Yes and I'm sure after a week of being on the internet again you'll be begging me to take all your electronics"
"You know, I bet you're right." The conversation gives them both the grace to laugh and Alfred smiles sweetly at her. "Thank you, I appreciate everything you've done for me."
Maine pulls Alfred in for a tight hug. A gentle whisper hits the young American's ear. "I'm so proud of you, more than you know," Alfred's head is placed in between her hands. "You stay with the program. You stay with what's good for you and run from what hurts you. You live your life, you sweet boy, and don't let anything or anyone control you ever again." Alfred can't help the tears that form in his eyes and then streak his face. Maine hugs him again, tighter than before.
"Alfred," a soft British accent speaks up. Maine gives a quick kiss on Al's salty cheek and pats him as a way to send him over to his brother. Alfred throws his backpack over one shoulder and walks carefully. He's shaky and feels one misstep will cause him to tumble and break his body.
Both men stand before one another. Alfred is taller, but as of this moment he seems to have the posture of a broken man. Arthur places a hand on his little brother's shoulder and gives a smile. When Said little brother breaks down crying, Arthur pulls him in for a much needed hug. The two brother's then stood there, holding each other for a good while. Arthur broke the hug first then placed his hand on Alfred's back and guided him to the car.
"What's changed?" Alfred questions out loud. His eyes are weary but he stares out into the world. Arthur answers, even if he isn't sure if he is answering the actual question Al is asking.
"New Iphone," Arthur says with a chuckle. Alfred gives a small exhale and the corners of his mouth twitch slightly up. He's better, but nothing like himself. "A movie with some great actors was recently released, quite good. They finally ended American Idol."
"Jesus, about damn time."
"Haha I agree with you on that one. Let's see, oh right! A new singer has been popping up everywhere. He is absolutely-"
"New singer?" Alfred was sitting more tense and his face was scrunched up with discontent.
"Yes, and he is, I mean I cannot describe the voice on this kid-"
"Kid? He's a Kid?"
"Well, he's considered legally an adult, about 18 or-"
"What's his name?"
"Good God, Alfred if you would quit interrupting me maybe I would be able to tell you all that I know about him." Arthur was met with silence. "He is 19 I believe. An incredible voice and beauty unlike no other. He was offered a job to sing for a Broadway production but was offered a record deal."
"What producers?" His tone was full of malice.
"Same as yours." It was said with a swallow before and came out shaky. Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur could see Alfred's fists tighten. "Don't worry he's going to-"
"To what? Be fine? That's absolutely fucking golden. A 19 year old kid with a talent that will make money. Incredible for you to say that to me."
"Can't you just be happy for him?"
"What's his name?"
"It's-well, It's um, um. . . I can't seem to recall his name," at that, Alfred throws his hands in the air. And ends with his arms crossed and a pout across his face. "Okay well, do you remember Francis?"
"Yeah, that French guy you use to fuck a long time ago"
"We dated back in college we didn't just fuck and please don't remind me that I did."
"Then don't bring him up."
"Anyway, the new singer is his cousin actually."
"Huh, small world."
"Indeed." The aura in the car softened and it became quiet for most the ride. About a block until they were to arrive at Alfred's penthouse, said little brother questioned again, this time however, it was meant to be answered.
"Do they all hate me? My fans?" Tears were forming in his eyes again. He had been crying off and on through the drive home.
"No, actually, I've been handling your twitter letting everyone know how you are doing and they miss you.
Alfred sat up at this, starting to rub at his eyes like a small child, a grin growing on his face. "Really?"
"Yes they miss you very much and were always sending lots of love to you. Many were also saying how proud they were of you, Alfred, and to stay strong." At this, the young American Singer had a huge charming smile on his face. You could never have noticed that he was just crying. With that, he grabbed his backpack, and ran to the elevator. When they finally got to his apartment, Alfred ran to his room. He collapsed on his bed. A warm smile resting on his face.
Arthur knocked gently on the door with two of his knuckles. It woke Alfred with a start, seeming he didn't even know he had fallen asleep. He let out a grumble and could hear Arthur's footsteps get closer. He set next to Alfred's face and held out his phone to him. "I called Francis and asked about his cousin. His name is Matthew Williams. He is 19 and will be 20 by summer. This is him at the Grammy Awards. I would say he is pretty cute."
What Arthur showed Alfred wasn't just a glamorized celebrity. His white blond hair made his amethyst eyes explode in color. His cheek bones were high and although his face was soft his jaw was still cut. He was very feminine in facial features, but you could tell through the suit he worked out. Matthew Williams is breathtakingly beautiful. "Fucking hell, Arthur, he's motherfucking gorgeous."