Chapter Two:
"Urgh this cold air is totally gonna ruin my hair," a voice mutters as he sets up his drum set. It is not an impressive one, it is merely a pickle tub and two drum sticks. The man takes his hat off and sets it down on the ground beside him to serve as a tip holder. He begins to drum a beat, looking around in disappointment at the lack of people around him. No people = no money. Whatever, at least he has the money from that lady before. The man continues to drum to himself.
From the corner of his eye he sees a homeless man stumbling down the sidewalk, singing loudly to himself.
"CHRISTMAS BELLS ARE RIIIINNGGGIINNGG, CHRISTMAS BELLS ARE RIINGIIINNGG, CHRISTMAS BELLS ARE RIIIINNNGGIINGG – SOMEWHERE ELSE! NOT HERE!" he shouts, bursting out into giggles as he turns the corner. The drummer stares at him before rolling his eyes and continuing to drum a beat.
"Urgh…" the drummer hears. The drummer looks up, confused. Where the heck did that come from? It sounded like… someone was hurt. "Fuck my life," a voice mutters, nearby the drummer. The drummer stands up, picking up his pickle tub and placing his drum sticks in it and cautiously makes his way towards the sound. The drummer found a tall blonde man struggling to stand up. The drummer smiled. He was… kinda cute.
"Hey, you ok honey?" he said, approaching the man. The man looked up, momentarily confused. The drummer set down his pickle tub to grab the man's hands to help him to his feet. The man winced.
"I'm afraid so," the man grunts, clutching his side. He pulls up his shirt apprehensively to see a large purple bruise at the side. The drummer blushes and looks away, trying not to grin lecherously.
"They get any money?" the drummer asks as the man dusts himself off, wincing.
"No – I had none to get. But they stole my coat, stupid assholes. Well you missed a sleeve!" he shouts to no one in the ripped sleeve in the air. The drummer clicks his tongue impatiently, handing him a bandage. The drummer always carries some. You never know where you might get assaulted, especially in this part of town.
"Hell, it's like, Christmas Eve – I'm Feliks," Feliks says, extending a hand to the man. "I'm your saviour!" he says cheerfully, feeling totally accomplished. Wasn't that the point of Christmas? Helping people out? Jesus would be so proud of Feliks.
The man blinks at the hand before staring at Feliks properly for the first time since they met. "My… saviour?" he repeats, suddenly noting the skinny jeans Feliks was wearing. Damn he had a nice ass. "Indeed," he says teasingly. "My one and only saviour – I'm Mathias Køhler. Friends call me Mathias. You can call me sexy," he adds and Feliks rolls his eyes. Mathias looks around and notices a trash sculpture made to look like a Christmas tree. "Nice tree," Mathias points out before clutching his knee in pain. A dark red stain is growing around it.
"Let's like get a Band-Aid for your knee. I need to get changed anyways – there's like, a life support meeting at nine thirty. Yea, I know – this body provides like, a comfortable home for the acquired immune deficiency syndrome," Feliks says, motioning at himself. Mathias grins.
"As does mine," he admits. Feliks beams at him.
"I think we'll get along just fine. We can get you a new coat – get a bite, make a night. I'm like so flushed," Feliks says dramatically, placing a hand to his forehead.
"But my friends are waiting," Mathias begins to say before Feliks places a finger on his lips. Mathias blushes.
"You're totally cute when you blush. But hey, the more the merrier! Ho ho ho~!" Feliks exclaims, dragging Mathias along, only pausing to stoop down [and give Mathias a good view of Feliks's ass] and pick up his pickle tub with his free hand. Mathias grin grows, allowing himself to be pulled by this strange man.
Feliks suddenly turns, pulling Mathias closer than the Danish man expects. Pressing his body up to Mathias's, so close to the other man that their noses are touching, Feliks grins mischievously.
"And I don't take no for an answer," he murmurs before dragging Mathias off somewhere.
A/N: Sorry for such a short chapter but the next scene didn't really fit with this so I decided to leave it as a short chapter. If anyone's wondering, I read somewhere that Prussia England and Denmark made the Pathetic Brothers Trio or something like that and I thought it'd be kinda funny if they were roommates. Plus, Denmark just seems so Collins-y. I think I'm starting to like Denmark/Poland ^^
Feliks demands that you review. And he doesn't take no for an answer ;D