Arthur knew moving was a stupid idea.
Yes, it was necessary for his health and all, but he never felt so lonely before. Every day, sitting at the small outdoor cafe table, gazing out at the rolling countryside. There was nowhere else to go, he was in the middle of grassy fields and gravel roads. He was used to the crowded streets of London and he had never thought he would miss the strong odor of petrol and cigarette smoke.
Each afternoon he would be back in his seat on the wooden porch with his cup of Earl Grey and a book. Maybe if work was requiring him to do so, he would have some paperwork or his laptop. He wasn't sure what it was about the particular table, but the view just gave him a sort of serenity he longed for after a long day.
But the peace eventually began to leave him empty.
Still, he would return to his table, even after the magic had disappeared the second week he had been in the small village. Yes, village. He knew calling it a city would be over exaggerating. And county sounded way too American for him. There was nothing better for him to do after all. The Cafe was the only place to get a simple cup of tea and Arthur was too shy to go anywhere else. He was stuck being his lonely self, sitting in the metal chair while he wasted away.
Sometimes his mind would wander as he gazed at the scenery around him. Running his hand along the wooden railing beside him, he would think about if the tree in the middle of the field felt the way he did. Stuck in the midst of an unfamiliar world, the forest seemingly unreachable. Yet, they could do nothing but continue to stand there as everyone else continued to move along with their lives.
The flowers continued to flourish, mocking them with their plentiful company. Each blade of grass had at least one neighbor close by to interact with. But the tree was alone. Through the rain and the wind, they had to stand firm on their own and try to keep their head held high.
Arthur sighed as he shook the thoughts from his head, walking down the dirt road with his hands shoved in his pockets. The afternoon air was crisp, a soft cool wind blowing through his pale blond locks and bringing a soft pink tint to his cheeks. He was glad he had decided to wear his reading glasses that day, it was the only way to block the dirt that the wind picked up and flung at his eyes. Another reason to hate his surroundings.
That day was supposed to be just another normal afternoon. The same monotonous routine, the same order of tea, sitting at the same table in the same seat. But as the front porch of the cafe came into view, he could've sworn his heart stopped beating for a moment.
Someone was sitting in his seat.
Yes, it was a childish thing for the Brit to freak out about, but when the human brain is trained to routine the smallest of infractions can cause a complete breakdown. And this was no small infraction either. He could handle if his usual tea was out of stock, there were other things on the menu that were just as adequate. But that seat had grown to be a part of him.
Being his stubborn and impulsive self, he almost stomped right up to the person and order them to sit elsewhere. Almost. If it wasn't for the fact that the person who had stolen his precious seat was the most gorgeous man he had ever seen.
Golden hair that seemed to lay in just the right way, kissed by the sun itself. Bright cerulean blue eyes that lit up his entire face, enhanced by the thin wire glasses that rested on the bridge of his nose ever so gently. Tan skin that was impossible to find back in London that gleamed on his sculpted features from his jawline to his biceps. He had a cup of coffee in one hand, a book in the other. Arthur could see his gaze float across the page as if his irises were dancing back and forth.
Goddammit, why did he have to be so fucking gay?
He swallowed hard as he went up to the door, unable to piece together any coherent thoughts just yet. Usually, even if the cafe was full to the brim his seat was left untouched. The owner had taken a liking to Arthur and would shoo people away from the spot. Why hadn't the same thing happened today?
Kiku Honda looked up from the plates he was washing and gave a small smile. "On time as always," he noted before turning off the faucet, "I'm guessing you'll be wanting the usual?" It was hard for the blonde to get mad at the Japanese man, he was a soft-spoken sweetheart that would jump off a bridge if it meant avoiding making someone feel anything less than happy. And of course, his black hair had to look absolutely adorable from being blown awry from the harsh wind every time the door opened. Dammit. He didn't want to make him upset.
With a deep breath, Arthur gestured towards his table. "Someone's sitting in my seat," he whispered, embarrassed to be complaining about such an issue.
"Oh yes, that's Alfred. He's new here so I thought he could use a friend." He gave an innocent smile, but the Brit saw the gleaming mischief in his chocolate eyes. "Now, do you want your usual or not?"
Arthur massaged the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. "Kiku, I appreciate the thought but you know I suck at 'peopling'. Do you have another seat?"
"Mr. Kirkland," the owner scolded, pulling out a tea cup, "You can't be afraid of human interaction for the rest of your life. I tried and it destroyed me. I saw the way you look at him, why can't you trust that feeling?"Artie gazed at the steaming water as it was poured into the porcelain cup.
Gazing at the steaming water as it was poured into the porcelain cup, Artie sighed heavily and fiddled with the edge of his sleeves. The man had a point, but just the thought of initiating conversation with someone new, not to mention beautiful, made his heart pound. "...I'll do it if this cup is free, deal?"
With a smile, Kiku nodded and handed him the tea. "Good luck." He winked and then started to take the next customer's order.
Coniving little piece of shit... the Englishman thought bitterly as he turned away from the counter and made his way over to the table. With each step, his heart thrummed against his sternum with more and more until he was sure it was going to break. Even though he tried to be as slow as possible, he found himself standing next to the man way too soon. So close he could read the words on the crisp white pages of his book.
He wasn't ready to see those big blue eyes gaze up at him.
"Can I help you?" American. That much was obvious. The soft drawl was enough to bring a pink tint to his cheeks.
"U-um," Arthur stuttered, gripping the tea cup until his knuckles turned white. This was when the double vision started and made his head spin. "I uh... I usually sit there and uh..."
Alfred blinked a few times and his lips made an "o" shape as it suddenly clicked. "Oh! I could move if that's what you want." He pushed himself up and the Brit stared as he saw his biceps flex from underneath his t-shirt. His tongue grew fat in his mouth and he almost forgot his reason for being there.
"No!" he blurted out, his arm shooting forward out in reflex. Before he could stop himself, his palm was pressed against the top of the man's hand. The sensation sent a wave of fire coursing through his skin. "Please, stay. I'd hate to inconvenience you. I was just wondering if um..." He looked over at the empty chair. "Is that seat taken?"
He sounded like such a dork. God, he wanted to die right then and there. But the blonde smiled and sat back down. "Nah, go ahead. I ain't expecting anybody."
Never had the Englishman been so attracted to horrendous grammar.
With a meek smile in return, Artie sat down and placed his tea on the table. It took a few moments for him to notice he was still touching the man's hand. He squeaked and quickly shoved it back into his lap, a blush burning his cheeks. "S-sorry."
"It's nothing." The American picked up his coffee and took a sip, his eyes meeting Arthur's emerald ones. "You got a name?"
He quickly looked away, keeping his gaze on his lap as he twiddled his thumbs. "A-Arthur Kirkland... and you?" It would be creepy to admit he already knew his name.
Al gave a toothy grin. "Alfred Jones," he said with a mock salute, "At your service." The Brit knew he ought to say something, but his voice was stuck in his throat as if his vocal cords were swelling. They sat in awkward silence for a few minutes, Arthur staring at the steam rising from his drink and the American returning to reading his book.
"I haven't seen you here before, are you new?" he finally asked, breaking the tension. Alfred took a sip of his coffee and nodded.
"Yeah, I moved here for college a few days ago. How long have you been here?"
"Only a few months." He traced his finger along the rim of his teacup to keep his gaze focused elsewhere. "I needed to get some space, you know? My therapist said the city was damaging my mental health." As the words left his mouth, he felt his face grow hot. What kind of psycho mentions the fact that they're mentally unstable when first meeting someone?!
Instead of excusing himself like any sane person would, Al simply shrugged. "Hey, I get it. My brother was told the same thing." He picked up a pack of creamer from the small basket that sat in the middle of the table and fiddled with the seal. "He decided to stay in a remote part of Canada for a while. Something about 'people having toxic negative energy' and shit." He winced and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, language."
"Oh I swear all the fucking time," Arthur grinned, tucking his hands underneath his chin while he propped his elbows up on the table. "And I wish your brother good luck. Change is hard."
They shared a laugh before silence once again reigned. Artie found himself staring out at the field, watching the clouds dance across the sky. The wind still picked up every few moments, cooling his cheeks and causing the steam off of their drinks to swirl like mini tornadoes.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Alfred whispered, just loud enough to let the Brit hear. "In New York, the clouds were always dark and gloomy. You were lucky if you saw the sky behind all of the smog. You never really realize how dirty the air you breathe is-"
"Until you get to breathe fresh air," Arthur finished, adjusting his glasses awkwardly. "Yeah... it's nice."
The Englishman could feel Al's gaze on him and his temperature started to rise. Was interrupting him the wrong move? Was he too up front? Maybe he had dripped tea on his shirt like an idiot again. But the question he got instead was enough to knock him over.
"Are you free tomorrow?"
Blood rushed to his cheeks and he whipped his head around to face him. "U-uh... me? You're asking m-me?"
Alfred raised an eyebrow with a small smile. "I don't see anyone else at this table unless you think I'm talking to myself. If you're busy I unders-"
"No no no!" he blurted, slamming his hands down on the wooden surface, "I have nothing to do! Really!" When realizing people from other tables were standing, he put his hands back in his lap and sunk into his chair. "...same spot, same time?"
The dirty blonde grinned so wide the white of his teeth almost blinded Arthur. "I wouldn't have it any other way. It's a date."
And that was how the most introverted, awkward, unpleasant Brit on the countryside managed to find love. Fate, and the tampering of a pesky cafe owner.