There are two sides to every story, non?
Disclaimer-Hetalia I do not own.
AN: I've got a weird way of writing side pairings that interest me. Lemon yogurt is the shit.
The lights flash and he inhales deeply.
The lights feel bright and heated against his clammy skin and the bodies around him tumble and groove to their own beats. The lights beam hard and strong against his person and he takes another deep breath to calm himself. The bodies around him jumble and mash together in a deep sea of sweat and lust and he fights to keep them away from his person.
He fights his way through the massive blockade of rhythmic forms that seem to be in constant motion and keeping in time with the hypnotic melodies of the current tune floating in the air.
He hates this song and music like this in general because the tracks are always laced heavily with base that pound his eardrums and wreak havoc on his brain. He doesn't see the point as to why people come to places like this, all these heaving and sweaty bodies pressed tightly against each other in this cramped and enclosed space with barely any breathing room. How people can stand to be in places like this, he will never understand.
The closest place to freedom is the little booth on the opposite side of the room, segregated from all the other activity in the room. He shoves away a few rogue bodies occupying his sanctuary that are currently attached by the lips and settles in his seat.
He scoffs to himself, almost rolling his eyes. 'Why the fuck am I here?'
He glances towards the untouched drink on his left and scowls at it. He told his idiota of a brother that he didn't want to be here, but did the fool listen to him? No, he didn't. Nowadays it seems as if no one listens to him because they're too busy telling him what's good for him; as if they know. If he had his way, he'd be at home, watching that cooking show he'd recorded on the DVR but hasn't gotten around to watching it yet, with a glass of fine wine in one hand and a pen in the other. He could be at home, isolating himself from the rest of society and getting some good recipes but his stupid brother would have none of that.
He flicks his hand at the drink, spilling the contents onto the plush of the booth seat. 'That bastard's always dragging me somewhere I don't want to go. I'll punch him the next time I see him.'
He runs a hand thru his silky chocolate colored hair and sweeps his eyes over the crowd, hoping to catch a small sight of his brother. Instead he catches the eye of an annoying being that he really doesn't want to see. A tall man with dangerously pale skin watches him closely from outside a group of dancers, like a hawk surveying prey. He whispers something to one of the other dancers, a brunette girl with sparkling green eyes, then makes a beeline towards the single booth in the back of the room.
The man in the booth rolls his gold-yellow eyes and looks away, a scowl covering his features. "The fuck do you want Gilbert?"
Gilbert observes the other man under half-lidded red eyes and greets him in rough German-accented English. "You're still a prick Lovi." He runs a hand through spiky powder white hair, half heartedly.
"You're still wearing those damn contacts and it's Lovino, you jerk. Why are you over here talking to me? I don't like you."
Gilbert finger combs his stark locks with ease. "You like my presence."
"I don't like your existence."
Gilbert's face drops for a second but he catches himself. "Haha, tell me how you really feel Lovi."
Lovino whips his head around to the uninvited guest sitting next to him. Gilbert's lean frame is leaning back against the plush fabric of the booth. His ruby red eyes flicker over the brunette's scowling form and he throws an arm back against the back wall of the booth, across the other man's shoulders.
Lovino shrugs the other's hand off his person. "Why aren't you bothering your stupid brother?" Gilbert sips at the other unattended drink within his reach.
"He's dancing with your brother; and don't call my west 'stupid'." Lovino scoffs at the reprimand.
"West? What the fuck kind of nickname is that?" He cringes as Gilbert chugs the rest of the drink that he didn't pay for.
"An awesome nickname, it's like Lovi but fifty percent more awesome."
"What I meant, why do you call him that?" Gilbert directs his attention away from Lovino and onto the dance floor.
The brunette gives the pale man next to him a pointed look that goes undetected. The song has switched to a newer tune, a song that's popular on mainstream radio waves and has been climbing the charts with its clever hook and catchy chorus. Lovino finds himself tapping lithe fingers on the table along to the rhythm of the beat. "Are you going to answer my question, you bastard?"
~Look at me now, look at me now, I'm gettin' paper. Look at me now, look at me now, I'm fresher than a muthafucka~
Gilbert snaps out of his thoughts and shakes his head. "Flattery gets you so far, my dear Lovi."
Lovino punches the paler man in the bicep. "Sarcasm gets you nowhere." The white haired man retreats to his drink, swirling the small remainder around the bottom of the glass slowly. Lovino's eyes watch the other man's motions for a moment, taking in the sight and he can't help the thoughts lurking at the back of his mind.
Damn him for being here, damn his brother for dragging him out of the house and damn his stupid emotions getting all tangled and confused and shit. This frustrating idiot sitting next to him is doing that shit he always does, trying to guilt trip Lovino with his silences and actions. The air between the two is quiet, filled with contemplation and slow thumping bass.
"The name comes from my father." The German tone comes out softer than anticipated and the brunette jumps at the intrusion.
"What?"
Those red eyes glide over to him again. "The name West. I call mein bruder that because he acts like our father und our father is from West Germany. My personality is kind of like our mama's und since she's from East Germany, he calls me East."
"Illogical, if you ask me." Lovino listens as the man next to him talks. Gilbert's accent is growing thicker the way it always does when he speaks on a topic sensitive to him. Lovino gives the man next to him a once-over with curious golden eyes, taking in his body language. Gilbert makes an irritated noise at the scrutiny and adjusts his position. Those red eyes are reflecting an emotion that Lovino can't readily identify and it bothers the brunette.
'What he's thinking shouldn't bother me, but it does.'
The pair sit in silence, mulling in their own minds, when two extra bodies disturb their senses. Lovino looks up to meet a brunette with pair of eyes that match his own, brimming with buzzed happiness. Standing next to him is a tall blue-eyed blonde man with broad shoulders and a light blush painted across his face. Gilbert drops his empty glass onto the table and leers at the blushing blonde across from him.
"Looks like my Ludwig's been busy! Don't tell me little Feli's got you all hot and bothered already."
Ludwig's blush grows deeper. "Bruder! Don't say things like that! You're insinuating that we did more than retrieve more drinks from the bar." Ludwig glances at his brother and Gilbert wiggles his eyebrows.
"That's exactly what I'm insinuating."
The redhead standing next to Ludwig abandons the blonde and attaches himself to Lovino's arm. The brunette tries to pry the other man off but his efforts prove futile. "Lovi, Lovi, Lovi! You should've seen what we just saw! Antonio is amazing! He did all sorts of things with the bottles and he didn't spill anything!"
Lovino pries the other male off his arm successfully. "Feliciano, sit up and act like you've got some sense. You've seen Antonio do tricks with drinks all the time, don't act brand new."
Feliciano whimpers and blinks his golden eyes at Lovino sadly. "You don't have to be so mean to me brother." Gilbert nods along with Feliciano's statement.
"He's right Lovi, stop being such a prick, I mean look at that face," he motions at Feliciano's pout and watery eyes, "how can you be so cruel to that?"
Lovino growls low to himself, smacking Gilbert in the back of his head. "First of all, my brother's not a 'that' so don't call him such. Second, he's seen Antonio's tricks with alcohol a thousand fucking times, so there's nothing to be excited about. Third you," he points rudely at Ludwig, "don't agree with Gilbert."
Ludwig chokes on his drink at the finger pointed in his face. He nods while coughing profusely and banging on his chest to free his windpipe. Feliciano screams and rushes over to Ludwig, flailing wildly and wailing his name. Gilbert glares at the chocolate haired brunette with slit red eyes.
"West can agree with me all he wants, Lovi."
"Ludwig, please don't die! Brother didn't mean it!"
Lovino massages his temples and counts slowly under his breath. "Uno, due, tre…" He rises slowly from the booth and climbs over Gilbert to escape.
"I'm going to the bar."
By now another song has graced the airwaves, a slower song with mild bass and a slow tempo. The people on the dance floor have taken heed and begin to pair up for the slow dancing song. The bass isn't as interwoven in this song like the others, but Lovino still feels tempted to tap along to the deeper rhythm.
He forces his way through the huddled masses of the dancers, frowning at how close and how slow they're dancing. He slips pass a few couples who are getting too close for his liking and before he knows it, the bar is in his sights. He quickens his pace, faster he can get there, the faster he can leave. His journey is interrupted however, when he gets caught in between two overweight couples. He panics and flails his arms helplessly.
Suddenly a foreign hand reaches for his flailing arm and yanks the other man towards his person harshly. Their bodies roughly collide and they crash to the floor in front of the bar in a tangled heap of limbs. The two untangle themselves and the first thing Lovino sees are two clear blue eyes staring up at him.
The track abruptly skips and so does his heart.
The blonde's face is mere inches from his own that their noses are almost touching and Lovino feels his embarrassment burning his ears. The brunette cocks an eyebrow, "The fuck was that for?"
Lovino watches as the blonde's face perks up at his voice, but he ignores it. "You were struggling, so I came to help you out; it's what I do." The brunette scoffs, rolling his golden-hazel eyes but the blonde pays no mind, offering him a soft smile.
"My name's Alfred."
"That's good to know."
"It is, now what's yours?"
Lovino thinks for a second, cocking his head to the side because he can feel the blonde staring at his eyes. They always stare at his eyes. "It's…none of your damn business."
The blonde wiggles his fingers on his outstretched arms, his smile falling short. "Not fair. I saved you so at least I should get a name." Lovino scoffs again, rolling his uniquely colored eyes at the blonde's attempts for his name.
"This ain't a movie and you didn't save anything, idiot. Now can you get off me?" The blonde wiggles his body beneath the brunette, that smile returning at full force.
"You're on top actually."
Lovino looks down to discover his body draped carelessly over the other man's, with their legs still entwined together. The brunette huffs and mutters grimly under his breath in a language the bespectacled blonde seems to recognize but can't pinpoint accurately. A rough shove and quick thinking, the pair of them stand a foot from each other with sweaty brows and heaving chests.
Lovino takes in the other man's appearance from head to toe, noticing their height difference. His head could easily fit under the other man's chin. Cazzo, why is he so fucking tall? The blonde's clothes look wrinkled and causally thrown on, a plain pair of blue jeans that fit loosely around his midsection with a white t-shirt that displayed a musical band and shows off his muscled arms.
Lovino doesn't know how long they stand like this, observing and analyzing one another, but he figures that it should end soon. The scrutiny of other man is a little uncomfortable and the blonde's curious gaze is unrelenting. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other. In reality, Lovino knows only seconds have gone by but this moment feels like forever.
"So…are you going to give me that name anytime soon? I've already told you mine." Lovino sighs low to himself at Alfred's attempt. He just won't give up until he has his name. A valiant effort, the brunette admits, but foolish.
The brunette scowls at him, narrowing those unique golden eyes. "I don't know you and why I'm still talking to you is a mystery in itself. Now get lost, I've got to go find my idiot brother." With that, Lovino turns on his heel and stomps off , heading back towards the fray the Alfred so kindly 'rescued' him from. He doesn't need to find his brother but he doesn't want to be around this new idiot more than he needs to.
As he leaves, that same voice calls to him over the loud bass and synthesizers, "So I don't get a thank you?"
A lone middle finger is raised high in the air. "Fuck off!"
Lovino disappears quickly into the crowd, to get away from that airhead. He doesn't know that blonde and he doesn't want to get to know that bastard Alfred. For all he knows, the man could be an axe murderer or a con artist after his inheritance like all the others.
Lovino decides that it's better to cut his losses right now.
AN: More people will appear soon enough.