The morning had been an utter disaster. The night before was a blur of alcohol, roughhousing with coworkers, and just plain bad decisions. When the light from the window announced the arrival of dawn, it took him a full half hour to get up and rejuvenate the consequences of the after-work drinking session. He didn't know how he was able to crawl into bed, much less how he even got home in such a pain-in-the-ass state. The immense headache was a reminder to himself never to go out drinking again. Of course, that thought only lasted for as long as the pain resided.

Sluggishly he trudged towards the kitchen, hoping for a nice cup of Earl Grey to start the morning afresh. With a teacup in hand and a painkiller in the other, Arthur Kirkland sat himself on the kitchen counter to self-reproach his rather brash handling of the booze. As his eyes traveled across the room, he came upon the old grandfather clock that was placed in the hall across from the kitchen. He admired the artistic decor that outlined this vintage masterpiece. Arthur had been fond of it ever since his late grandfather had given it to him as a congratulatory gift for graduating high school. Although his mother complained about it "taking up too much space", Arthur found it quite lovely as he did with all other antique furniture. For a reason unknown to him, he had a strange love for the past. The antiques that were scattered throughout the house obviously displayed his hobby, but Arthur believed it was more than the actual "things". There was something in the idea of the past that made him feel insecure, yet oddly, enduring. Thinking of this over tea, he finally glanced up at the actual time ticking within the old woodwork.

"...B-bloody hell…" he groaned and let out a defeated sigh. He was late for work.

Getting dressed was an unbelievably complicated task for a more-than-slightly hungover man. Huffing out grunts that were unnecessary for getting dressed (at least for a sober person), Arthur finally looked presentable in his crisp new suit (that wasn't as "crisp" as it had been prior to his uncoordinated handling of it) and quickly combed down his disheveled hair. He ran through his bedroom door and paused once to consider breakfast, but waved it off when his eyes met the clock again. He can grab a bite during break, he told himself.

Outside was quite a bit chilling for the man, but he didn't mind. Rather, he couldn't mind about it when his attention was focused solely on getting to work quickly. Living near the bus stop had been a great idea in the beginning since that meant not having to bother buying a car to go with his untouched license. However, days like this made him reconsider.

Reaching the bus stop with a little more than five minutes to spare, he collapsed onto the bench that was placed far too close to the road for comfort. A long sigh escaped his lips as his mind wandered off to the foreboding consequences that was to come. Probably a heavy lecture from his boss about time being a synonym for money.

As the minutes ticked by, Arthur noticed a few more people standing behind him, waiting for the bus to come. He had never met these people before because his bus was always the hour before this one. Glancing through the corner of his eyes, he saw a woman with an orange jumpsuit, holding a sports bag that looked to weigh a ton considering all the miscellaneous athlete's gears that stuck out from it . Next to her stood an elderly man wearing an old-looking brown suit with a velvety tie. Arthur simply amused himself over the attire as he finally came upon the last person in line.

A young man, perhaps in his early twenties, stood tapping his foot at the pavement as music flowed through his headphones. He had on a simple framed glasses and a small backpack slung over his shoulder. His eyes were closed as he hummed an unfamiliar tune, most likely whatever song that was playing on his phone. He had a wide smile on his face that seemed to scream "today is a oh-so wonderful day to be out and about!". The youth seemed to swallow up the environment as his happy appearance bounced off every which way. Arthur held his breath. It felt as if the world was only a monochromatic photograph, with the boy being the sole colorful splash of paint inside the frame. Arthur's gaze turned into sheer gawking as he stared at the boy in utter awe. He felt flames burst within his chest, and had to swallow the urge to just take the youth's hands in his own and caress it ever so gently. The happiness and innocence that spilled through this young man made Arthur shiver with unfamiliar euphoria. He hadn't even noticed the bus coming from the end of the street.

As he took in this gorgeous sight, he heard the roar of the engine and snapped back into reality. As each passenger climbed on board, the youth opened his eyes and looked up. Oh, his eyes. They were bluer than the sky, deeper than the ocean itself. Azure? Sapphire? No English words were available on the Brit's tongue to describe the chemistry that made up the lad's view. It was simply… perfect. As he adored the treat before him, he noticed a familiar feeling tugging at the back of his memory. The more he stared at the boy, the more he noticed a strange feeling of passion, lust, and… nostalgia? He tried to shake that thought away, but there was definitely something altogether… amiss about this meeting. It felt similar to all those times he would see old furniture in stores on display; the feeling of "I finally found it again".

"Um, sir?" Arthur started, abruptly shaken awake from his daydream. He looked up to see those crystal blues gazing down at him with concern. "Are you alright?"

"I, um, yes… quite alright, thank you."

"O-kay. Well, you should probably get on the bus, huh?"

"...hm?" As soon as he said that, they heard the roar of the engine get back to life. The bus left a trail of smoke as it turned left into the next street.

"... Or not. Drats, we missed it!"

"I… sorry." Arthur looked from the boy to the street and realized that not only had he misplaced the bus himself, he had let this delicacy of a lad into a dilemma with him.

"No need to apologize, buddy! Just don't daydream near the bus stop. If you've noticed, the bench's a lil' too close to the road. Trip and you'll be on your merry way to the hospital." He winked and let out a small chuckle when the Englishman stumbled an embarrassed "right". Arthur felt an enduring clench in his chest as the youth rambled on. "So, late for work?"

"Yes... But I was already late to begin with, anyways. I'm rather worried about you. Don't you have a place to be?"

"Meh, no need to sweat it, dude! I'll just tell 'em I was out saving a cat!"

"That's hardly a believable story."

"Well, that's what heroes do, so believable or not, that'll be my excuse."

"Hero?" Arthur raised an eyebrow. The term seemed to fit the youth perfectly, although the reason was lost to him.

"Yeah! A hero! Like, those dudes on television that fly around and rescue damsels in distress!"

"You do know that this is the 21st century?"

"I know, I know. But saving someone is no different in any generation, no matter the circumstance! Like just now! I, well, at least I tried to save you from being late. Guess I failed this time, ha ha." The boy gave a pathetic smile as his hand caressed the back of his (delicious looking) neck. Arthur gave his head a few shakes to let that thought go.

"Thank you, nonetheless."

"Aw, shucks! You're welcome!" The lad perked up at the gratitude and nodded his head in satisfaction. The little blush of his cheeks made Arthur want to kiss him senseless.

"What's your name, lad?"

"Oh, I'm Alfred! Alfred Jones. Nice to meet ya, uh…"

"Arthur. Arthur Kirkland."

"Right! Arthur!" they shook hands vigorously, making the Brit question the boy's all-too-much energy. It was practically radiating off him. "Nice to meet ya!"

"Likewise… Alfred." The name rolled off his tongue nicely, leaving a hint of warmth in its trail. But something didn't feel right about this name. It felt as though a different name suited him better. That's silly, Arthur told himself, I just met him, I shouldn't judge his name of all things. Alfred is a perfectly suitable name.

"Well, guess we're stuck waiting for the next bus, huh?"

"I suppose you're right. Do you not have any other means of transport?"

"I don't have a car, if that's what you mean. Don't judge me though! I'll get one… eventually."

"I'm on the same boat, lad."

"You don't have a car? You look like you could afford one, judging by the suite."

"I just didn't find the need for it. And I must point out, you're the one doing the judging."

"Ha ha, true, true! Didn't mean anything by it!" Alfred's laughter was like a drug. Addicting. Arthur wanted to pull that out of him more. Or rather, something more like a moan or a gasp would certainly sound-

"Hey, as crazy as it sounds, it feels like this isn't our first time meeting each other."

"... H, huh?"

"Yeah, I know! Totally nuts, right? But it feels… nostalgic? I guess? I don't know how to put into words exactly… but you feel… different…" Alfred trailed off, noticing how the other was staring at him intently. "I, I mean, that's not… what I meant to say! Sorry for weirding you out and all! Ha ha!"

"No, no… I feel the same way. It feels like we've met before… somewhere. Maybe in our past lives?" Arthur felt his heartbeat pace faster as Alfred began to fidget nervously on the bench. He let himself lean in closer to the boy, noticing how every inch forward made the youngster's pink cheeks a shade darker.

"Ha… ha ha! That's impossible! I mean, it's true I have a thing for history. But that's more like a hobby and…"

"Maybe we were friends in our past? Or maybe family?" they were now close enough to feel each other's breath on their lips. Alfred drooped his eyelids and stared at the Englishman. So tempting. "Or maybe… lovers?" Just as the mouths were about to touch, the roar of the bus rang clear through the air. Arthur bolted upright and clung to the end of the bench, Alfred doing the same on the other end. Both of their hearts raced quickly, unable to identify if the cause was from the bus or from what had happened. They both just stared at each other awkwardly as the driver honked the horn for attention.

"... T, time to get on! Come on, we're already late as it is."

"Yes… quite." Arthur stood up and slowly walked himself to the entrance. What had happened? Did he seriously tried to kiss a man whom he had just met on a mere speculation that they had somehow known each other in the past? Past lives, to be exact. It wasn't the best hookup line he had ever come up with. As he sat himself on an empty seat, he saw that Alfred had followed him. They sat next to each other, as if it was the most natural thing to do.

"So… where ya getting off?"

"To you."

"Huh?"

"Er, no, I meant the eighth stop." He rubbed his temples with his finger, trying to get rid of the indecent images his mind came up with.

"I'll be getting off on the sixth. You know, the big college over there?"

"You mean- (the sound of honking could be heard out in the traffic) - college?"

"Yep, that's the one!"

"That's a pretty prestigious college… You must be quite clever, Alfred."

"Well, I hope I am! I do want to be a scientist after all!"

"Oh, in what field?"

"Archaeology!"

"You did mention that you like history."

"Yep, I'm in love with it! I mean, it makes me feel all mushy inside, like, I dunno, happy? Makes me feel like I'm meant to do this. If ya catch the drift?"

"I also tend to like older things… like antiques, for example." Arthur explained to Alfred how he has many vintage accessories in his house, one of them being a grandfather clock his own grandfather had sent him. He also mentioned the feeling of nostalgia every time he sees a particular antique or furniture displayed in shops. Alfred listened carefully, nodding every once in a while to indicate his attention.

"You mentioned… the past, right? Like maybe we were connected somehow in the past?"

"Yes."

"If you put it like that, it seems it's fate that brought us back together again!" Arthur blushed heavily at that statement. "So maybe we ought to be friends from now on!"

"Friends?"

"Yeah! Hey, since that's decided, I'll need your number, dude! I wanna talk to you more about this… meeting." At that, Alfred ducked his head a little to hide a sudden rush of embarrassment that came from recalling a few minutes prior. Arthur noticed this, and decided to do the most rational thing he could think of. He slowly took Alfred's hand in his, and softly kissed the fragile skin on top.

"Yes, it was quite an astonishing meeting, I must say. I do dearly hope we could meet again. Here's my business card; call me whenever, love." And he took the risk to kiss his hand once more. The lad blushed adorably, and gave a meek laugh.

"Ha, yeah… I, I'll call you when I get the time. Here's my stop so… s, see you around!" Alfred quickly dashed for the exit. "Bye, England!"

"... England?" Before Arthur could question the lad's choice of words, Alfred was already out the door and the bus moved slowly along. As thoughts (both decent and indecent) flowed through the Brit's head, he became more and more confused (and aroused) about this youth. It was true that Arthur was from the UK. Was Alfred calling him that because of his accent? But England seemed a bit weird to be a nickname. As the bus roared to a halt at his stop, he found himself thinking of Alfred, along with a name of his own that just seemed to pop out of nowhere.

"... America."