A/n: The song is "Fix You" by Coldplay. This was made a few months ago, actually. I have no idea what I just made.
Music for You
When you try your best but you don't succeed
When you get what you want but not what you need
Sometimes when you're in a relationship, it stresses you out even though your boyfriend is laying his head on your lap reading porn magazines. I, on the other hand, was listening to my mp3 player, rocking my head back and forth to the beat of the guitar solo replaying in the song.
"What are you listening, love?"
His green eyes met my blue eyes, and with telepathy, I can tell that he loves me completely.
I grinned.
"What do you think?"
"My guess is Country."
I scoffed.
"And what is your grudge against country?" I quipped.
"Everything."
Whenever he speaks in his British accent, I would swoon into a blossoming blush, and if I had the courage in front of my friends, I would gloat and boast about me nabbing a hot guy from England.
Well, I didn't exactly do that. It was the other way around.
Our back story was a short one. I bet it wouldn't be able to last 3,000 words on a Word Document.
Arthur was a successful singer at the local bar at England, and I, who only lived at England for one month and was having the mundane job as a waiter, was scrawling down orders to and fro. Maybe we had a thing going on, but then he left. And for the heck of it, like a prince in shiny armor riding a noble steed, brought me back a bouquet of flowers, and said, and I quote, "To court my luscious company."
Smack! Alfred, just hurry up with the damn story.
Ouch!
Geez, Arthur! I bet I have a bump on my head.
It's just a magazine.
Dude, you're gay! What the hell are you doing reading about boobs and vaginas in front of your boyfriend?!
… (Looking at Alfred incredulously)
Okay, I deserved that whack at the forehead for quoting such an embarrassing phrase, but never ever hit me with anything printed about boobs and vaginas!
Yes, yes, I promise. (Not.)
When you feel so tired but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse
I was in a fix, I admit. I had no spark of inspiration for my creative juices were pruned out from my remarkable brain today, so I needed to hunt some type of distraction if I wanted to stay sane. And when I say distraction, I meant nice ale and a bottle of rum. The occasional sex is okay with me, but seriously, women these days are so vulgar, and in a bad way, too.
For your information, I am part of a band called "The Bad Touch Trio and One Brit". Daft name in my opinion. It wasn't my fault. Blame the lame name to Gilbert.
As I was saying, I visited my favorite bar, The Crossed Keyes, and called the bartender to pitch me a Blue Hawaii, feeling a dash tropical this evening, I saw him. Oh god, those azure eyes, and those rippling muscles behind that tight dress shirt he had. Dear Lord, pay the owner over twenty pounds for handing the young boy that apron. I never cared for Korean waiters, but this boy tops all. The ubiquitous boy was all over the place to the point that I can see sweat drenched under his arms. He was perspiring madly, glistening in that smooth forehead of his…
… Arthur, get to the main point. *blushes*
Sorry, love. I was getting carried away.
I had only five verses left to the song. Damn, observing the boy head to toe in his waiter outfit is like having a sexual fantasy. If only I could have him undressed, and all of my dreams can come true…
*Push* Arthur, that's too R-rated for the children. You're going to scare them!
It's just a sixteen-year old reading this. What's the harm?
The harm is that you are becoming horny by the second despite this being a drabble about our love! Don't you dare have a public boner! Step aside and let the G-rated guy take the stage. :D
!
You clearly say "Fucking!" everyday.
Hush Arthur. Watch Monty Python or something.
When the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
I didn't notice that a smexy and HAWT dude was checking me out. How can you know when you are dutifully hopping from table to table while trying to coddle tips?
When I finally did catch my breath, I headed to Ludwig, the bartender. He looked peeved today for some reason; I'm guessing it is because of his troublesome brother coming here to perform. I was about to wave erratically, but then I saw a man staring at me. With a scowl.
First reaction?
Shit, I did something. Or this guy is grumpy and I have to serve him.
I mean, what do you assume when a man with monstrous, fuzzy caterpillars hovering over his head glares at you intently with an upside down smile on his face? WHAT DO YOU ASSUME?
Well, I just averted my eyes and splayed my arms out as I seated myself three chairs away from the grouchy man and called Ludwig to fetch me an Orgasm or the usual.
The man returned his attention to a piece a paper, and from my visual point, he looks exacerbated.
"Whatcha doing there, dude?"
I hopped two seats closer to him. He watched me uneasily, surprised of the notion that I would speak with him.
"Just writing a song." he said.
As proof, he exposed the notes and bars and lines any songwriter has to start out with while he gnawed his pencil, leaving a trail of teeth marks. I gulped.
"What kind of song is it?"
Heck, I want to talk to a customer. Forget the fact that Ludwig is giving me dirty looks.
"About a man who can't have something he wants, so he parties like a rock star."
"Huh, I sorta expected some kind of lovey-dovey romantic one like Glad You Came or What Makes You Beautiful."
"Oh? Why is that?"
"I don't know. It's popular these days, right? You're smiling, having a good time, and your cheeks are turning rosy, so by the logical explanation of deduction, I guess it's a positive song."
It was a positive song.
Are we going to argue about this NOW? Your song, instead of those songs I mentioned above, is about some celebrity losing a one-sided crush. HOW is a one-sided crush positive?
It's just a man who can't get something he wants. I did not specifically lead to that explanation. How can you tell if I was talking about a man unable to get an apple from a tree? Really, Alfred, you have to look at my lyrics more carefully.
Really Arthur. A tree? A bleeping tree?
Is it my turn yet?
But we haven't covered the lyrics above!
Hey Alfred.
What? OUCH! Why did you spray that in my eyes? :(
*kisses eyelids* I'm sorry. They are just eye drops, but at least we fulfilled those lyrics since you are technically crying, right?
When you love someone but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?
Every now and then, whenever we try to explain our love story to our friends, they would twist their face into this sketchy one, the types where their eyes bug out and their mouths thin into a line, so we both decided together to never talk about it again. Except for you, dear reader. At least you do not judge a book by its cover.
It was all a blur. There were rancid kisses, compliments to the alcohol, but it was an enthralling experience to explore, especially when one is high and hot and bothered. Well, you know the drill. You know, have great sex, shower, and have more great sex. Alfred is such a beautiful creature; like I can frame him and worship him all day long, if he lets me. He's such an endearing boy; he even offered to pay for my taxi ride home after I escorted him to his apartment lazily. The boy is a great kisser, very enthusiastic I assure you.
When I woke up the next day, with the hangover pounded my head a thousand times, I groaned. Was yesterday a dream? I glanced at my clothes, and indeed, I did look ruffled. I guess God disapproved my fling last night and for tainting a boy like Alfred because for my retribution, I lost my lyrical sheet.
Lame, isn't he?
I'm not a perfect human being Alfred.
Laaaaaame.
While I am ignoring Alfred's taunts, where was I? Oh yes.
Shit.
What do I do when I lose something important? Well, dear reader, I do what everybody should have done: I retrace my steps.
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
Hello Reader. Alfred is currently making me a sandwich, so I'll continue in my point of view.
Now, people may misunderstand this as a stalker thing to do, but I did search high and low for that damn piece of paper, which is pretty much a large component of my career. Yes, I did look for Alfred, but seriously, the only vivid description I had was his appearance and the fact that he works at a bar.
Arthur, what the heck are you doing?
… Oh hi Alfred. No, I wasn't stealing your spot. :) Just warming your seat here.
High up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
I found him. Well, he found me. No, we found each other. Yeah, that sounds much better. Warning, I may get cheesy, but I believe it was destiny, FATE that we would find each other right after the day we made love. At first, we were stunned, open-mouthed. I got red. I can remember his gentle touch and how he caressed my cheek as he unbuttoned my shirt. I can remember the taste of his lips; it was a nice metallic taste of alcohol. It felt like a dream, a dream only I can concoct, so you can imagine how shocked and pale I was after screening my body like a lunatic. If that didn't happen to me, I would have LOL'd.
… You didn't like it?
Don't worry Artie. I love it when you caress me like that. You can touch me all day.
G-git! I did not imply that!
Yes you did.
Did not.
Did too.
Hurry up! Stop stalling. There are readers here.
Fine, I'll concur since I did promise we'll finish this.
I coughed awkwardly. "Ahem."
"Arthur Kirkland." He stuck his hand out like a sore thumb.
"Alfred F. Jones! At your service!"
I extended my hand out to shake my future lover's hand while I was fiddling with the wallet inside my pocket with my other hand nervously. God, I bet I had sweaty hands back then. This Arthur guy, if you erase the eyebrows, was attractive and British. He had a nice smile. Well, those were my first thoughts ever since I met him.
Usually I'm awesome with striking conversations, but this dude left me speechless. I gulped. "So…"
"Hold on a minute."
He twirled around and marched across the street, not using the crosswalk like the pedestrian he is, and barged into a flower shop. Not listening to his order, I followed the stoic man like a lost puppy, plugging my nose after being gassed by 107 smells.
Fuck my life.
If you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth
When you try to woo someone in a flower shop, make sure the lad isn't allergic to pollen. Let's be more general. If you want woo ANYBODY, do not activate their allergies for bad things come to those who cause those allergies. For me, the scenario was disastrous because after that one minute where you arranged the perfect bouquet, it becomes slobbered with Alfred's spit and bacteria. I settled down the ruined flowers, which I paid afterwards-
Did I mention I have allergies? :D
-And rammed my way out of the shop while holding Alfred's wrist before more mass destruction occurs. I led him to the W.C just so he could blow his nose. Life is an arse.
Fun Fact: I am also allergic to cheese.
I don't like repeating myself, so you can see the embarrassing words I've uttered. We hooked up after going to a café, and pretty much, we are an item. We found my paper, had another fling, and I accomplished to play a good song. Happy endings are happy endings.
'What light through yonder breaks?'
Stop disturbing me! The writer of this story is going to get a seizure if you don't quit it.
She'll forgive me. She wuvs me. :3 (A/N: Yeah, I do.)
Now here we are, me on top of Alfred, Alfred below me, hugging and embracing like the deprived homosexuals we are.
Stop saying it in such a pessimistic connotation.
You don't even know what that means.
I would if you'll let me go to .
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
"Lights will guuuuuuide you home, and igniiiiiiiite your bones, and I will tryyyyy to fix you."
Some people would like to read in peace and quiet.
"And I will tryyyyyy to fiiix yoooooou."
*kiss* And thus, the golden-haired boy turns pink. Isn't he a cutie?
B-be quiet! You're the cute one. You're a tsundere.
Sorry Alfred, but I don't speak Japanese.
…
I love you.
I love you, too.
I just wrote a new song for you.
I think you mean "music for me".
*sigh* Yes Alfred, "music for you".