Toris walked down the walkway, almost too eager to leave the workplace and head home for a nice homemade dinner - made by himself. If only Natalia had agreed go out with him, then perhaps he wouldn't be a bachelor at his age. Being single at 21 only added to his pathetic normalcy, but the brunette honestly did not blame girls for going after others in a city crawling with models and actors. Even one night stands were considered high goals in the city, but only the gorgeous and unique would be targets. Normal men like Toris never stood a chance.

He glanced at the clock, reading 6pm on its face. Feliks would have headed home twenty minutes prior, as he often went bar hopping in hopes of finding his big break. Toris had accompanied him a few times, but preferred not to be involved and opted to let his friend enjoy himself without his dull-self shading the Polish man's natural glow. With nothing to do, the man usually drove home and read, perhaps watched the occasional movie or caught up on news from his homeland. He was a simple man and relished in it, although sometimes he wished his life hadn't stunted so early in his life. Having a mid-life crisis so young should have been a sign, but Toris ignored whatever it entailed to continue his dull, peaceful days.

Someone stopped him before he could exit the room, however. "Hey, Toris! Come here would ya?"

Inwardly groaning, the brunette complied and walked over to his supervisor, a man nearly bald at the age of forty-five who dressed like a mix of hippie and 90s rocker. With the thick white beard, Toris had mistaken him for Santa Claus during a Christmas get together, only thinner than usually pictured. "Yes sir?"

"I need you to do me a favor and take this down to the recording office," He said, showing Toris a familiar manila folder. Although it looked the same as every other folder they used to deliver documents, he was sure whatever paper was tucked inside had more value than the usual ones he carried around. "Dumb asses forgot to file the documents right and had them sent to me for reviewing without sending someone to pick them up. They need them for tomorrow's session, so could you go and deliver them for me? Marge should be there to take them off your hands."

As the man's subordinate, did he really have a choice? Toris did not see a need to ask him when he got paid to follow the hippie-hybrid's orders. He reluctantly accepted the task, waving his supervisor goodbye before stepping onto an elevator to descend to the second floor.

That was another thing Toris complained about in his mind: the in-office travel. His work station resided on the ninth floor; the recording studio on the second. Every other equally important department was located far from Toris', so he often had to make various stomach-tingling trips on the elevator, stairs occasionally, to reach the other offices. He was a humble man, but when your life reduced itself to such simplicity, Toris could not help but gain a 'First World Problems' mentality. He supposed that's why Feliks nagged him so much about whining at a job that required you to sit down for hours rather than do hard labor. But then again, rough physical activity never did appeal to Feliks unless it was sex. But when was the last time Feliks had gone on a date? The man was too shy for having such a quirky personality.

The elevator stopped, creating the familiar tingle in Toris' stomach and a ring noise as the doors slid open. He quickly stepped off the elevator and turned down the hallway, trying to remember where Marge, the secretary, was. If he spotted a thick head of red, he would be fine but with the work day over and the halls empty, Toris had no sign to point him in the right direction. It had been a while since he'd visited the second floor. He hardly ever needed to step foot there and did not remember the blueprint of the hallways. Was Marge's office to the right? Left? Down the hall past the break room? He didn't know, and concluded the thirty minutes spent wandering had officially caused him to get lost.

Well this was embarrassing.

Toris stopped and looked around, unable to recognize any of the room numbers or paintings hanging on the walls. How far had he wandered?

He peeked around a corner, green eyes scanning the hall for a familiar landmark he could use for navigation. None.

The lost employee roared, arms reaching for the heavens in a frustrated gesture before they flopped back to his sides. "Am i going to be stuck here the entire night? I can't even find my way back to the elevator!"

Deciding to wing it, tired of being careful when he was clearly lost, he sped into a random hall on his right, turning left the next corner, right, left, left, right, and so on until he stopped at the end of a hallway. The blue tinted carpet ceased, switching to a gray magenta that continued on down the hall. Toris looked up to an arrow-shaped sign on the wall marked "Recording Studio." It was better than nothing, he assumed, and continued on.

This hallway felt livelier than the rest of the building. Violet walls met magenta, and shared flower decorations that livened the otherwise eerily empty pathway. There were some stuffed chairs outside of doors, visual pop art, and some posters advertising recording schedules and upcoming concerts. Compared to Toris' office space, this reminded him of a child's playground. It's bright mood did wonders for the average male, and he contently continued on, turning left at the next corner.

Instantaneously, Toris heard it.

Beats echoed down the hall, loud enough to cause vibrations through the floor so anyone walking nearby could feel every sound wave. Is someone still recording? Using the studios cost money. As a result, there were strict regulations on their usage outside the normal operation time. Toris had not heard of anyone requiring their use, as most were encouraged to finish before the work day ended. Their boss was too strict to allow less-than frugal behavior with their equipment.

Knowing this, Toris crept closer, the sound guiding him to its perpetrator. As he neared its origins, Toris could make out humming. Or was it singing? He'd mistaken it as an instrument at first, but the sound he heard accompanying the steady beat definitely resembled a human voice. Toris stepped forward, careful to silence his steps so as not to be heard. The nearer he approached, the clearer the voice became. Toris admittedly did not want to interrupt it, for its sound calmed his rapidly beating heart and soothed his headache. His stress from earlier had subsided, and all that remained was the need to listen on.

What artist did he catch sneaking recording time? He wondered. Shamefully, the Lithuanian never bothered to familiarize himself with their signed artists. The only one to breech Toris' ears had been Kirkland, but that was only because of his involvement with the British man. The rest he couldn't even name correctly. He doubted he would recognize the singer in the room even if he saw their face.

Toris heard all noise stop and crept closer to a purple door bearing the plaque with "Recording Studio" at its roof, casually opening a crack large enough for the sheepish man to peek inside to see a form seated at the army of controls, rather than the live room like he originally thought. The person wrote something down in a notebook and proceeded to turn knobs and pull down levers on the controls. Curious, Toris leaned in, causing the door to creak. Startled, his breath hitched and waited for the culprit to spin around and catch him spying, but luckily whoever was inside wore large headphones and did not notice. Relieved, Toris leaned in once more and listened as the man started up the beats again, then sung in the mesmerizing voice that originally led the lost employee there.

Although Toris could not make out the person's identity (the view cut off right at the neck because of the door), he did not care. A soft melody, notes that lifted at the perfect moment, ten descended to accompanying words; the brunette felt content to stand and let his ears absorb the lulling sounds.

At least he was, until the man stopped, removed his headphones, and rolled the chair back far enough for his entire head to reach Toris' view, who instantly recognized the cowlick and voice saying, "Alright, that should be good."

Toris flung the door open. "A-Alfred?!"

The man in question jumped from his chair and turned to the intruder, eyes wide in shock at seeing another person in the room when he could have sworn the place would empty out after working hours. "Toris?! What are you doing here!"

"I-I came to drop these off," he said, holding up the folder, "and got lost. Wha-what are you doing here? Was that you singing?"

Alfred's tan skin paled. "NO! I-I mean...yes? I didn't think anyone would be here so I kinda let myself in but I swear I wasn't doing anything illegal!"

"Wha-what exactly were you doing in here?" Toris inquired, stepping further into the room and carefully inching closer to the blonde. He caught sight of the notebook, composition, open to a page filled with black words in formation of stanzas. Lyrics perhaps?

Alfred inched back, tracing Toris' gaze with his own and moving his arm to cover the notebook's view. "I, ah - um...I-I was writing down a poem! For school! Yeah..."

Eyebrow cocked, unconvinced, Toris inched closer. "I didn't know you were in school...did you fail a grade?" The question was unneeded, seeming how Toris saw zero chance of the boy still being in school with how much time he spent at the office. Alfred did not seem like someone to take night classes if he were in college.

"Wha - NO! I'm not that lame."

"I see." Toris took this time to snatch the notebook off the controls, careful to keep a finger marked on the page already open, and step back far enough for the flailing blonde to miss grabbing it back. Normally Toris would never intrude on someone's privacy, but catching Alfred,errand boy of the studio office, doing rebellious actions picked his curiosity. Toris convinced himself that his actions were innocent enough and opened the notebook to the marked page.

"Hey, don't look! That's mine! Invasion of privacy, man! Invasion of privacyyyy!"

Toris ignored the blondes outburst, trailing his eyes over the lyrics written on the page. By this time the younger male was red with embarrassment, trying desperately to retrieve the notebook from behind Toris' back, unsuccessful each time. The brunette continued reading, all while keeping the notebook just out of reach, until he met the end of the lyrics and beginning of a Batman doodle. As cute as the drawing was, the stunned employee paid it no mind. His eyes, glazed and mirroring nature's pond from the water threatening to fall, closed in peace, taking their time to absorb every word he'd just read. The sudden silence caused the blonde at his back to step away, eyeing him worriedly as Toris turned to face the lyrics' owner.

"A-Are you okay Toris? You look like you're about to cry."

Toris shook his head and wiped his eyes. He smiled and handed the boy his journal, all the while keeping the pages open to the Batman doodle. "Alfred, this...this is beautiful. I didn't know you wrote lyrics."

"They're not lyrics! It's a poem."

"But you were singing to them earlier, weren't you?"

"So what if i was?"

"Then they are lyrics."

"No they're are not! Ugh." Alfred groaned, sitting back in the chair and leaning his head back to stare at the sealing, the notebook messily flopped close on his lap. His odd behavior confused Toris. Alfred seemed to hate the very word, yet his writing clearly spoke as lyrics to the Lithuanian. He'd read an intro, chorus, second stanza, and the chorus once more. The man had heard Alfred sung it! How could he deny they were lyrics? Especially when they were such beautiful words. Toris did not understand it.

He wanted to question the blonde further, but Alfred jolted his body off the seat and began to pack his belongings in an American black backpack. Water bottle, headphones, journal...

Suddenly the frantic man turned to Toris, making the poor employee jump from the intensity of those lightning blue eyes.

"Toris, you're my friend right?"

Caught off guard by the strange question, the brunette only answered when Alfred repeated the question. "O-of course!"

"Then you can't tell anyone about this, alright? Please."

"I-I, uh..."

He shrieked when two large hands met his shoulders, the weight of them making him shrink under the younger man's stare. "Tell no one. I'm begging you."

Blue bore into green for what felt like hours until Toris finally answered softly, "A-alright," his normal voice muted from fright.

Alfred wasted no time after that, rushing out of the room quicker than Toris could recover. Still confused, he turned to open he door and peer into the hall.

"But wait! I -" He was gone, the hallways as empty as when he'd first arrived. The one sign of their life escaped because of his intrusion.

Pounding heart calming, Toris glanced at the manila folder still held by his shaking fingers. In all the excitement, he'd forgotten all about his assigned task, honestly surprised it managed to remain in his grip through that fiasco.

It would have been a good idea to ask Alfred for directions.


A/N: I'm going to be honest: I didn't think anyone would be interested in this story. I'm not sure if i'd want to make this a romance, but even then AmeLiet is not a very popular pairing in the first place and I assumed ten views were all i'd get, lol. That said, thank you all who reviewed, favorite, and viewed this story. I am a person who likes to give back, so i'll make sure to keep this updated. Perhaps not once per week like my other story, but frequently enough.

Toris' canon age is 19, but i didn't want to make him as young as Alfred considering what he does, so i settled for a little older.

Alfred's behavior stems from my belief that America can sing really well, but tends to get too excited when doing so in public, which inevitably makes him sound terrible. Because of this, he's always mocked for his bad singing and grown self-conscious about it. His Japanese voice actor is actually a really good singer, so i think Alfred has the ability to sound just as good as Arthur.

As a final note, i've said before that his was a spur of the moment story. Because of that, the genres were just chosen randomly because i don't know what this is yet. Do i want to make it half romance? I don't know. It will have some of the generic ones: drama, some hurt - we're dealing with self-conscious Alfred after all - friendship, and maybe some romance for side-characters, but any pairings involving the main duo is still under consideration. I would love feedback regarding the plot.

A song is comprised of a poem. Alfred just sucks at coming up with excuses.