Hello! This is my first story so I'm very excited for how it'll turn out. C:
Just a warning though, the rating is subject to change depending on what I do in the later chapters. If you find any mistakes, feel free to let me know! I don't mind criticism as long as it's polite. (:
Without further ado, here is the prologue~
Strobe lights, alcohol, and music so loud you could feel your ribcage quivering at every pound of the bass. Cigarette smoke so dense you'd think someone was using a fog machine. It would've been Hell for an epileptic, but it was just the kind of Heaven on Earth that a certain Arthur Kirkland was looking for. A Heaven full of things he would be sent to Hell for.
"Pass me another shot of whatever you just gave me. Might be a new favorite."
"Lookin' to get sloshed again, chap? You've been here enough times that I know how bad you get."
A humorous glint passed through the Brit's eye, and he slid his arm across the bar table to reach the shot glass. "Not today, unfortunately. I'm actually here on business."
The bartender raised an eyebrow as he cleaned out a beer glass with a cloth, at least until the Brit continued with: "Well, mostly business." Which merited a chuckle as he placed the glass along with a row of other glasses. "Ah, that's better. Seeing how you're dressed and just by your personality, I highly doubted that you would be here on business."
Arthur's lip curled into a lazy smirk as he downed the shot, his finger hooking around his spiked collar after he had set it down. "Whot, punk ain't your business fancy? I could hardly walk around here in a tux if that's what you're looking for. People would think I'm some sort of bouncer who wanted in on all the fun." He said simply, turning his back so that the barman could see the bass guitar slung over his back, its Union Jack design glinting off of the dim lights of the bar section.
"Wouldn't be the first time. So I heard you got invited into another band, is that why you're here now? Well, besides the reason why you usually come." The barman added, rolling his eyes to the side so that they glanced subtly at the dance floor. "A bit surprising though. You usually reject invites, especially after…" He trailed off upon receiving a glare from the Brit.
"True…" Arthur reluctantly agreed, pursing his lips and crossing his legs on the bar stool. "But this chap is foreign, just came to London from what, the US, was it? Might be interesting, heard he might have a good voice."
"Kirkland, we both know that's not the reason why you agree to these meet-ups." The barman said dryly, and he swore he could feel a shiver run down his spine the moment a glint of mischief passed over the Brit's features.
"Whatever do you mean, luv?" Arthur replied innocently, standing up and smoothing out his ripped skinny-jeans and black tank top, which also seemed to be following the trend of rips and tears. He pushed the bar stool back into it's previous position, turning on his heel and waving his hand at him dismissively from over his shoulder. "Put it on my tab. I should be back tonight anyway, possibly with company." He said, the last bit of the sentence coming off just suggestive enough to merit notice.
I pray that whoever this American lead singer is, he knows what he's getting himself into… the barman thought to himself as he watched the Brit saunter off.