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The Yellow Room
~AN APH FANFICTION~
Warnings: Human AU, Male Slash,
Contains suggestive themes and strong language,
OCs as minor characters, Don't like? Don't read!
Favourite, Follow, Review ― Your Choice
Pairing: Haus Habsburg (Spain and Austria)
Permanent POV: Roderich Edelstein
I don't own APH whatsoever.
Prologue
…
-o0o-
Almost every new encounter in life doesn't present any kind of warning at all. It is apparent that only time could decide if those moments will either be significant or otherwise. However, those little encounters will always have the intention of hitting you faster than the speed of a book falling from a topmost shelf.
"There you go. This happens a lot so be careful next time. Just so you know… many people are inconsiderate enough to just cram the books they won't buy at the top of well-arranged ones."
That time, in my very first visit inside that certain bookstore, I plainly branded that encounter as nothing else but a fast and insignificant meeting. Some random stranger's smile, a kind and helping nature befitting to such an ambiance of skyscraper shelves and faint whiffs of hardbound fungus. The scene was ordinary; actions expected and meant to be forgotten quicker than re-shelving three unwanted paperbacks. Such encounters are an example of a prevailing law of everyday life― you cross paths with a random person, then you manage to smile out of courtesy and afterwards, you just move on, continuing to walk towards the opposite direction. This law always has this simple purpose of preventing a person from having too many people his life.
Even so, there are occasions when time prevails over this law. At that very moment, he could have moved… I could have gone home. However, not one of us even shifted an inch. All those forces that I wasn't meant to see only brought the speed of our lives to an exact same pace.
For all I know, if anything in our lives before was even a mere second late, he could have asked that question to somebody else and not to me.
"Say, can a person really turn his back from someone he loves so much?"
His straightforward voice had broken the delicate sound of Debussy's music from a stereo speaker nearby.
I remember turning my attention towards him with perhaps an obvious puzzled look on my face. At the same instance, I realised he was not looking at me. His eyes were only fixated on that one open yellow paperback he was holding. I decided to ignore him then even though I was perfectly aware that there were only the two of us staying at that current lane. I merely concluded that he was only talking to himself. Well, because… why all of a sudden? Deciding that it must simply be the reason, I brought back my gaze into my own row of books and refused to wonder furthermore.
Then somehow, for a second, I stalled as I ran my index finger through a row of book spines. I just couldn't help wondering what kind of answer shall be spoken out for such a question.
"What do you think?"
His voice overwhelmed again, that time breaking nothing but those silly private thoughts that were lingering inside of my head. It's not that I really had minded being bothered over such a small degree of persistency. Still, it was a gesture that is no less rude, so I expressed my irritation.
"Are you talking to me?"
"Well… I think there's no one else here besides us."
"Do I really have to answer such a ridiculous, sappy question?"
Besides, it also had bought me time. As I really hadn't even pieced up a sensible answer yet.
"Not really. I'm sorry for being intrusive."
I sighed at his reply. It just had been a little disappointing, perhaps. Well, after all those trouble secretly putting together every tiny fragment of my honest thinking. An uncomfortable silence then had crept up across the fake wood flooring under our feet, giving way for The Girl with the Flaxen Hair to whisper into our ears. It was for a minute or two, and then I, myself had reclaimed the stillness and forced my voice out into it.
"If the feeling is… mutual, I say he'd certainly be such a big fool if he does leave. If he loves this person so much like you said, he'll never once think of leaving. A person who loves doesn't abandon."
Surprised, he glanced at me and then threw me another question almost immediately.
"Even if he has a good reason?"
"Love doesn't need reasons. If he finds himself seeking reasons then there will only be nothing but hesitations. With that, a person fighting for the one he loves doesn't need any kind of reason."
I had never expected myself to quickly respond with such firm conviction and fervour. I never even knew where those ideas of mine came from. What I only knew is, at that moment, words flowed from my mouth as if I were someone who knows better than the rest.
"Love is not even considered a mere reason… for fighting against odds to be with someone is love itself. Reasons can only turn into hesitation. Someone who loves doesn't give up fighting whatever the cost. If he gives up, who knows how much regret he'll have in the future?"
The duration of his silence after that was almost as long as my words were. He stared back a few more seconds onto his book before finally closing it and placing it on a shelf in front of him. He then threw his glance back at me, making me twitch my head back as I realised how silly it seemed that I was waiting for him to do that. Pretending to do my business, I abruptly grabbed three books from the shelf closest to me. One, I recall, is something that was titled: A Distant Man's Guide to Feelings.
"That's quite an insight... but I guess you're right." Before he went off he added, "Your girl must be very lucky to have you."
He walked away bringing nothing from the lane and I only watched the view of his striped sweater as it disappeared completely from the edge of the farthest shelf. Inattentively returning those three books that I didn't really desire to buy in the first place, the words "Guide to Feelings" had sprouted superfluous musings in my head. I then just stared at the book spine where it was printed as I nearly laughed at all the thoughts that had crossed my mind.
Surely, I might manage to act a little bit warmer than I used to, I could also somehow pass off as a handsome young man even just slightly, my family is extremely meddling and my frugality is clearly not of the average level. However, as I had just said before, if I truly love her and if she loves me just as much… I'll never ever let her go.
For that, my non-existent girlfriend must be very happy.
My watch finally had reminded me to head off to the checkout as I have to return to my upcoming conservatory's admissions office to finalise my registration. However, before that, I found myself curious enough to take a look at that book the stranger I met was staring into so absorbedly. I ran my fingers towards that specific shelf and then pulled it out.
Moonrise above the Yellow Room
At that moment, everything finally had shed its light towards me. That was the exact novel my friend, Elizabeta, was crazy about. Immediately, I had remembered seeing her bawling over it and asking me to give it a try as she tossed the book towards me as a "gift". I hadn't had found the urge to read it afterwards, though. I was never been big for such fiction. To me, a novel like that just felt too cliché and excessively sentimental for my liking.
Looking back, I still somehow had the idea that the book was about forbidden love.
I fanned out the pages of that sampler book. There was some flyer or clipping inserted in the middle which I had only perceived was used as a bookmark. It quite astonished me as I realised that the stranger was actually reading the novel bit by bit. I thought— how come he wouldn't buy a copy for himself? Strangely, he seemed too thrifty, even to someone as frugal as me. He was also lucky reaching halfway without being caught and reprimanded by store clerks. But then, it only quickly dawned at me that he had actually been hiding the paperback amongst the biographies at that furthest aisle, the nonfiction lane, which appeared to be the most inconspicuous place for free reading.
I finally placed the book back to where the stranger had left it and walked away to make my own purchase. With that door chime that ended my visit to that bookshop, I was still sure that everything that had happened was nothing but an encounter for the day that shall only be a fading memory by tomorrow.
Life has its mechanisms. The ephemeral grasp of both our times seemed to have ended at that moment and each of our lives finally shifted to their respective unique speeds. I then had only continued to rightfully walk towards the opposite direction.
Never knowing at all…
that it was still the same path towards him.
-o0o-
...
Author's Notes:
This fic is actually my very first Hetalia fan fiction. I started drabbling this almost two years ago and now, I finally nailed the whole plot down. I hope you'll enjoy this very poignant story.
Claude Debussy (1862-1918) – was a French composer commonly associated with Impressionist music.
The Girl with the Flaxen Hair – or "La fille aux cheveux de lin" is the eighth piece in Debussy's first book, Préludes composed for solo piano. The preludes in book one and two are brimming with rich but unusual harmonies and with techniques comparable to those of Chopin. [Youtube Link: watch?v=Yu4KObwynSc]
About the Title – The fic's title is a reference to Yiruma's New Age/Ambient piece, "Yellow Room". [YT Link: watch?v=skko9xxM1AQ]
Another reference: "Moonrise" is by Brian Crain. [YT link: watch?v=J-bEDNrt7h8]
About the cover – The cover photo is made by me using Sketchup 8, Shaderlight and Ps CS5. It's so sad that FFN reduced its quality.