Isn't it ironic, don't you think? It's the good advice that you just didn't take. — "Ironic" by Alanis Morissette
Roderich swallowed the uneasy lump in his throat. What should he say? What should he do? He didn't want to insult the American, he liked him well enough, it was just… he didn't know that the American liked him that way… he wasn't prepared for this. Nothing in the world could've prepared him for this! Oh, good lord, why? When had this begun? Why did he…? What was going on! All these thoughts swam through his head and he couldn't find an answer to any of them. It was like a difficult problem, a world crisis, there had to be a solution, something had to be done. But whichever way they turned, there was always sacrifice…
Money.
Lives.
Equipment.
Dignity.
Friends.
Everything else in between.
And in this particular case, the Austrian felt so trapped that even if he found a way out, he probably wouldn't notice it right in front of his face! So, instead of wreaking havoc on his poor, battered mind any longer, he just had to…
"A-All right, I suppose… one date couldn't hurt, I guess…" he muttered, voice uneasy and shaky and maybe just a little bit forced. Purple eyes glanced in every direction except at the blonde in front of him, a blush tinting his pale cheeks. And enough strain in his chest to make it feel as though he had a strange disease that made it far too hard to breathe.
Completely indifferent to all of this, though, and the shyness alleviated by the positive answer, the American grinned brightly and enveloped the Austrian into another of his hugs, letting out a shout of celebration, as though he had won the lottery. Roderich couldn't help but compare it to the blushing Elizaveta, who accepted his offer with excited eyes and pink cheeks or that one occasion with a certain German in wherein there was nothing but awkwardness, albeit some comfort and happiness. In comparison, they were docile reactions.
"Thank you, Roddy, you won't regret it!" The blonde chirped, although already Roderich's worries were beginning to ease slightly… until he found his head tilted upward by his chin and a thumb, a gentle kiss placed on his lips.
Flushing bright red, but too shocked by the action itself to do nothing, the Austrian once again felt that feeling of his senses being plunged into overdrive. When the American had pulled away, grinning, a slight blush tinting his own cheeks, he chirped in that strange young bird-like way, "Well, then, I'll come by and pick you up tonight at seven, how does that sound?"
Stripped of most of his good sense by the insanity of the situation, the brunette just barely summoned enough energy to nod his head weakly, giving the blonde another excuse to offer that bright grin, "Great! See you tonight! I promise I won't be late!" Unlike to World Council Meetings, the brunette thought sarcastically, but before he could say anything more (had he gathered enough mental strength to do so), the blonde was soon running off down the street, waving goodbye and all Roderich could do was stand there, mind wiped blank by the events of that day as a light drizzle began to soak through his clothes.
The walk back was relatively uneventful, even the man being shoved out of a second story window barely caught his attention, which was far from the dreary gray cement he stared at. Instead his eyes were fixated on that which wasn't there: A smile and blonde hair all too bright for this dreary day.
Sighing as he shrugged off his coat, Roderich ungracefully hung it on the coat rack, not bothering to make sure it wouldn't get wrinkled or fall over. Instead, he dragged his weary self over to the couch, letting gravity pull himself down and welcoming the comforting embrace of the upholstery.
When he finally snapped out of his stupor, the rain had already begun falling in sheets outside the window. The Austrian wanted nothing more than to rest a bit and sort out the day's events in his mind, calm himself down and figure it out. Splaying out his hand in front of him, he paused to admire his supposedly-bony fingers. Long. Neat. Elegant. Honed to perfect reflexes on the piano and various other instruments. Roderich was not arrogant and he would never say he was the best-looking man around, but he would say he had lovely fingers.
Odd as it may be for a man to take pride in his hands, he did, and slowly, he brought his hand into a fist so only one long finger remained standing. "One…" he muttered quietly to himself, "Alfred F. Jones asked me out today." Another finger to join his lonely companion was added, "Two… I accepted," A third finger joined the party, "Three… it…" he paused to think about it, finding the right words, "It will only happen once. And nothing more will come of this."
This list he agreed to, nodding at the white limbs that represented each statement. This was what would happen. Once the night was over and all was said and done, he and Alfred would return to whatever they had been prior-to and it would become a part of the past, as so many other events already were.
Yes.
That was perfectly fine with him.
Lifting his body into a sitting position and then until he stood upright and proper, he rolled his shoulders and stretched his fingers, walking over to the piano. His resolve was firm, he would do it, it would have to be carried out. So he sat at the piano and stared, almost blankly at the notes on the sheet. Simple. Easy. Natural.
If only life were the same.
And suddenly, he found himself just as confused, although not quite as mush, and let his head fall against the cool mahogany of the piano lid. Finding only silence, he consoled himself, " One — Alfred F. Jones asked me out today…"
A loud, resounding clad of thunder jolted the Austrian awake at 6:53, giving him barely enough time to catch himself from falling off the stool of the piano. Eyes registering the time on the wall, an internal panic and uproar began in his mind again. How long had I been asleep! He thought almost desperately, breathing becoming uneven. Pause. Stop it, Roderich, he scolded himself internally.
Like a mantra, he began again as he rushed up the stairs, "One — Alfred F. Jones asked me out today…" he muttered, stripping out of his wet, stale clothes from earlier that day and tossing them into the hamper. He made a mental note to wash them immediately and possibly hide them later so as not to remind him of the bizarre day, which he was planning to leave happily behind him.
"Two — I accepted." Fingers long since adapted to not only teasing notes out of instruments, but buttoning clothes with elegant and quick ease, he found himself already coming together with his formal but not too formal black pants and the deep violet button-up he chose. Debating on the black jacket, he finally threw it over his shoulder at the ringing of the doorbell.
Damn! The one day when the Austrian wouldn't have minded him being a little tardy and the blonde just had to arrive on time!
"Three —" he muttered, smoothing away any wrinkles and fixing his hair. Presentable and uptight, not casual nor too alluring, with a firm goal in mind, he placed one of the hands he was so proud of on the doorknob and twisted, "It will be a onetime thing. Nothing will…"
Oh, shit.
Instead of one of those bright smiles he had anticipated, he was greeted with a flush of red roses. Velvet petals glistened slightly with droplets of rain, the stems blank of thorns that might've injured his artisan's hands, beautiful specimen's of the rose family in and of itself. And all the Austrian could register was that they were beautiful. And they were for him. And that they came from one American. And finally, that he was so screwed.
A grinning Alfred did eventually present himself to him as well, "These are for you, I thought you'd like them," he explained with a blush that complimented the roses.
… One… Two… Three… Four… Five… Roderich took a deep breath and something, suddenly clicked almost distastefully in his mind. He recalled a certain event, a green dress and a formal suit and… wasn't this sort of thing for women? His brow twitched slightly at the thought, it was almost the same as when he had first came to take Elizaveta's hand for their first date. Only he'd like to think he looked much more… refined then the American. Although he himself didn't look… well, like he normally did.
Nevertheless, he took the act for what it was — kind and somewhat romantic — and accepted the roses, grasping them with both hands, he brought them to his face, letting the velveteen petals caress his cheek and brush against his nose, inhaling the rich scent. Finally, he smiled, gentle and kind, turning toward the blonde with a blush on his cheeks, "Thank you… er… I'll be right back; I'll just put these in some water…" It took no more than a minute or more to finish the task before he was back at the door, a smiling American awaiting him, leaning in the doorway.
Sticking out his arm, Alfred grinned, "Let's go!"
Allowing himself to a chuckle, he took his arm regardless, wondering if he'd be treated like a woman all the time…
Wait, no, of course he wouldn't. This was a one time thing.
When they arrived at the restaurant, all eyes were on the two. Roderich could feel their stares, the looks burning into the back of his head, the (poorly) whispered questions burning his ears which were slowly starting to glow a certain pink color. Although he did try his best to ignore it all, it was hard not to as slowly they gained volume and intensity. Ignore it, he muttered to himself and heard the American say to him, ignore them all… but it was so, so hard to ignore. "Why are they together?" and "What's going on?" and other questions filled his ears, because they were good questions. Good questions because he couldn't answer them. Oh shit, he could feel his heartbeat increasing…
"Roderich?"
At this moment in time, that was the last voice he wanted to hear. Because no matter what, that voice was always accompanied by… Gilbert. Turning, he identified the man immediately and inwardly, he groaned loudly. Well, fuck his life. Accompanying the red-eyed man was Norge, whom the Austrian was on notably better terms with. Whilst Gilbert looked stunned but oddly pleased as he shook with repressed laughter and probably more taunts then he could hold in, Norge was just staring, something the shorter nation was all too good at, giving curious little glances between Roderich and the blonde next to him.
Sighing in defeat and preparing to snap back, and promptly 'cause possible uproar, Alfred cut him off first, "Hey guys! Here on a date too?" He chirped, bright and happy. Roderich wished he could take it a little more seriously, but who was he kidding? The two nodded in response and Alfred nodded back, all smiles before placing a kiss on Roderich's cheek and singing, "I'll just sit down and stuff, you guys can catch up!"
Smiling to the Austrian, he offered a wink, "Meet me at the table, all right? No ditching."
Oh, yes, his life was screwed and fucked up to the very core. Nodding shyly and almost forcibly if only to get the blonde away, he watched the American leave as he thought about possible ways of explaining to him about subtlety before Gilbert draped an arm over his shoulders, "So… you and the American, huh? What the hell brought that about?" He laughed, red eyes glinting in that evil way.
Embarrassed and confused, the Austrian glared at him, "It's none of your business!" He snapped, shrugging off his arm. The Prussian never varied in his ways, it would seem. Not even being committed to someone could he stop himself from pestering the Austrian.
"Whatever! You two have fun tonight!" He winked and turned on his heel and out the door in smooth, easy strides. Apparently, he was already done with dinner. Part of the Austrian was glad, putting up with Gilbert's taunts the entire night would make it unbearable…
"Aren't you going with him?" He asked the Norwegian who still stood there, staring inquisitively at him.
Nodding, light blonde strands bobbing along, Norge paused, seemingly pondering something before asking a question of his own, "So… why are you two dating?"
The Austrian sighed, he wasn't even able to answer that question for himself. Well, he could… but… admitting as to why would mean admitting he had a particular problem with saying the word 'No' and he definitely didn't want that knowledge to be publicly known. "We're not dating," he stated finally, evening his gaze with the Norwegian, "It's a onetime thing. He asked and I couldn't find a nice way of saying no, so… I accepted. But, after today, it'll all be over and behind us. No harm or lingering after effects." Yes, that was what would happen.
That would definitely happen.
Because he hated to think of what would happen if that didn't.
Norge nodded in response, glancing at the door as a shout floated in through the cracks, "Come on Nor!" Obviously the Prussian was getting impatient, the child… "Just be careful."
"What?" Roderich questioned, casting his semi-friends an odd look. In response, Norge just stared back at him.
"He might be using you," he explained at last, his gaze clearly serious, as he did not make a habit of not appearing serious, "He and Arthur broke up recently, after all and you could be the…" he paused, searching for the right word. Obviously, "after break-up fuck" and similar phrases wouldn't do… "Replacement." He finished, straightening his gaze on the brunette again, "I don't want to see friends getting hurt and fighting." He stated with a shrug.
Nodding, Roderich pondered this, letting the information sink in. He was obviously behind on the gossip. It was unpleasant, but not impossible, very few things were impossible nowadays, "All right, I'll be sure to sort that out…"
How, he had no idea. But it was a response and that was good enough.
Nodding in reply, Norge inclined his head a final time, "Have a good night, Roderich," he spoke softly and then turned and left without another word.
Roderich waved to the door, "Yeah…" he muttered as he watched the wood swing back and forth behind the Norwegian, standing there almost numbly before sighing and turning to go to the table, lead by a helpful waiter. He allowed the walk to let himself sort out more things.
Well, revising came first, he decided, "Three — I am possibly a replacement for Arthur."
Brows furrowing in slight agitation at the thought, he let his footsteps carry more weight with each fall, "Four — I do not accept this. But still it is a onetime thing. Nothing will happen. Nothing will come from it. Nothing at all."
Nothing. At. All.
