Arthur sat comfortably in an armchair in his living room. He was reading the newspaper. Recently, in the quaint little town he lived in, a new restaurant was built; which was highly unusual. It was built near the centre of the town, fairly close to his house. What intrigued people though was not the new restaurant but the new workers; new people. You see, not many people moved into the town that often. On the other hand, Arthur couldn't care less.
He was highly critical of new people invading the town from the outside world. The emerald-eyed man ran a hand through his pale blond hair in frustration. Although it would be a 'chance to meet new people' so the both of you could 'go on wild adventures' there was so little chance of that happening with Arthur. He had memorised all of the town and refused to step outside of the town's borders unless he needed to.
Arthur was a middle-aged introvert. He was what you call the 'Scrooge of daily life'. Arthur was, in fact, a terrible cook. He also hated coffee. The man was frequently seen yelling at 'Flying mint bunny' which people learned to ignore. He was strange and many people were well aware of his unique behaviour.
Nevertheless, kids played outside near his house and everyone outside was generally happy and, unlike Scrooge, Arthur didn't resent that.
On a day like any other day... Arthur's microwave broke. It didn't just break. It overheated and internally melted to the point of no return... That ended the life of Arthur's 63rd microwave. It was surprising the kitchen hadn't caused the blond's death earlier.
So, for the 64th time, Arthur was forced to go shopping for a microwave. It was ironic that as much as he wanted to stay inside his little safe house, he spent a lot of time outside shopping for essentials.
The man grumpily threw on his long black trench coat and put on a hat and scarf.
The sun shone brightly in the sky. Many people on the streets were sweating as the scorching hot heat on the ground caused the town to become somewhat like a microwave. Children and adults alike were struggling to accommodate to the beach-worthy temperature.
In the fairly barren cobblestone streets, Arthur stomped. He stomped because he was angry and he was angry because he was outside his safe haven which, ironically, was a high-risk-of-death zone.
Ignoring the strange and shocked looks he received, the Englishman walked till he reached the centre of the town. There, he walked passed the new restaurant. It did not phase him one bit and he continued walking till he reached the, rather large, electrical appliance store.
Arthur's 63rd microwave happened to be quite bad quality. His 35th and 28th were the same kind of microwave. He couldn't choose the fancy-looking one because it was the same as his 44th, 32nd, 12th and 9th microwave, they had easily broken... What to choose... The microwave that had the design with the ladybird looked quite attractive but he had previously owned three just like it. To be more specific, numbers 34, 20 and 46.
After a while of heavily concentrating on the variety of microwaves available, Arthur came to the conclusion that the green microwave (He had previously owned a microwave like it... Number 60, to be exact) would fit the bill. He went to the scantily dressed female cashier and asked for the microwave to be delivered straight to his house. Arthur paid and left... But not before throwing his long trenchcoat onto the under-dressed female and telling her politely to "Put the damn thing on, you're hurting my eyes".
Equipped with a scarf, hat, fluffy slippers and pajamas, Arthur stormed out of the shop, careful not to break the glass door in his mild rage. Honestly, the majority of the female population seemed to have no problem with wearing those pieces of fabrics they called clothes.
Arthur had long since accepted the fact that he was gay. The minority of the town's males were, in fact, Homosexual. Take Ludwig and Feliciano for example... Or Romano - Feliciano's dark-haired twin brother - and Antonio. He'd wanted a boyfriend since he was little but the fact never came to light. Everyone of his friends thought he was going to die a lonely old scrooge and, to be honest, he couldn't find it in him to disagree.
Alfred wiped the sweat off his brow and continued cleaning the restaurant windows. It was hot. Almost too hot to clean. His sleeveless shirt was starting to get soaked with sweat. Then, something odd caught his eye.
A man, dressed in attire fit for lounging around at home, was reflected on the shiny surface of the thoroughly cleaned window. He turned and gawked. "Dude!? It's like... 90 degrees out here! Why're you wearin' those things!?" He yelled. The man seemed to take a deep breath (though he couldn't tell) and turned to face him, an angry fire flickering in his expressive green eyes. "You would do well not to criticise others, boy," He said before taking off in a fast-walk. Alfred merely grinned. What an entertaining person!
Arthur grumbled to himself. He clenched his fists. The new boy, 'the new face in town' had the audacity to criticise one of its long-time residents! Surely he lacked common sense. It was common to politely smile and wave, not gawk and yell. It was polite to ignore the strange spectacle that was Arthur, not notice him! What a strange person he was... Arthur shook his head, disallowing himself from thinking of the sky-blue eyed blond.
'You're not going to make contact with him anyway, he's the coffee boy; you hate coffee'