I am officially taking this story off of hiatus. To all the people who left suggestions and reviews I thank you kindly for them, they really helped me out. Sadly, while I did use bits and pieces of them, I didn't exactly go through with them because I had some complaint on the matter. To that person I have left a long message at the bottom of this story and if you don't wish to read it then just skip it. It's really just me defending my writing process. Nothing happy or confidence building.
Alfred sighed as he looked at the blank space on his computer, fingers quaking lightly while they floated across his keyboard. It had been a week almost since the time he'd met Arthur at that restaurant and every day since then he'd simply stared at the napkin. It was currently sitting next to him on the table and he continuously looked over at it as he bit the inside of his lip. Finally he stood up, shutting his computer in a fit of frustration. "Damn it, why does he even want to talk to me? I told him I'm not an artist, I'm a film-maker!" he lamented to his cat who only glared at him before running off to hide under his bed.
The American on the other hand went over to the door and grabbed his jacket, ready to head out for the day. Before he did though, he took the napkin from his wallet and threw it in the trashcan next to his entryway table. He wouldn't need that anymore, he was a film-maker and not an artist like Arthur wanted to see. Dusting off his hands he walked into the hallway and out of the building towards the bus with his bag strapped over his sholder. He had to admit that all he could think about was that Arthur had complimented him and he should acknowledge it, though he brushed the thoughts off.
"Alfred, iz that you?" a familiar voice called through the soft patter of the drizzling rain. It caused Al to jump though he was glad to hear a voice that would pull him from his guilty thoughts. Looking up he noticed Francis standing not far off from him with a umbrella held high above him as he tried to keep the rain off his hair and expensive clothing. With a small grin the sunny blonde waved to the older man and he waved back. Once Al was close enough the Frenchman pecked him on both cheeks, "It haz been too long. You really need to call me more, mon bon ami!"
Alfred blushed lightly at the gesture though he smiled at his friend nonetheless. Francis had been one of the first people that welcomed Alfred when he'd come to England, and though the man hated the place he stuck around. "What brings you to the bus stop, Francis? I thought you had your own car?" Alfred's voice was light as he spoke, having had a slight crush on the other for awhile now.
Francis huffed as he thought about what had happened to his lovely vehicle before he decided he'd fumed enough to tell his companion. "A jerk zat I have known since my childhood decided zat he needed to 'accidentally' break in one of zee windows!" he muttered, earning wide surprised eyes from the American. "Ee' zaid he was frustrated because somebody zat he liked decided zat zey would not contact him."
The younger of the two suddenly seemed uncomfortable with the information, thinking back over the napkin nestled in his bin at his house. "W-What…is this friend's name, if you don't mind my asking?" he inquired shakily.
Francis only raised a brow at him and chuckled, "Arzur Kirkland, he iz more of a rival zan a friend. Oh, by zee way, before I forget, you zould come with me zis weekend. I wanted to go out to dinner with a few friends, I zink you would enjoy it. We're going to zome weird American barbeque place in town…"
Alfred only nodded rigidly before he was started by the bus suddenly letting out a hiss as the door opened. The pair waited for the others to get off before they climbed on and sat down in a seat with one another. The ride was almost silent between the two aside from some chat about school and life in general. It was known amongst everyone at the school that Francis was a very skilled painter who always left the professors gawking. Alfred wondered if the British man knew and liked Francis's work as well, almost envying him for being friends with Francis longer than he had been.
When his stop was called Alfred finalized a time for the date, as Francis called it, and began to get off the bus. Once off of it he headed into the small shop that he worked at that just so happened to be a very cute little art store. Saying hello to his boss Tino on the way into the back room, he reached a hand into his bag to dig for his contacts though he was surprised to find something missing. "Oh god, where is it!?" he exclaimed as he frantically dug through his bag for the bright blue sketchbook. Then he realized that he'd taken it out on the bus to show Francis a storyboard meaning he must have left it there.
Pulling his phone from his pocket he speed-dialed the Frenchman and was so overly happy with what he heard. "Ah, iz this zee owner of zat little sketch-book zat I found? I am happy zat you saw my posters," Francis said before he broke into a light fit of chuckles that caused Al to smile despite the panic-attack he almost had. Running a hand through his hair he sighed into the phone with relief.
"Oh thank God, Francis. You're a life-saver!" Alfred laughed and finally pulled his contacts from his bag. He knew he shouldn't be on the phone at work though he knew Tino wouldn't care anyways, as long as Alfred was working. Walking into the small bathroom in the shop Alfred put Francis on speaker and began to put his contacts in. He felt a little annoyed with how Francis kept telling him his art was so cute, he sounded almost like a certain somebody that Alfred was sort of trying to forget. Not entirely of course, but the part about them actually meeting in person.
"Ah, I am afraid zat I must go Alfred. Pleaze do take care and I will zee you tomorrow!" Francis called through the phone just as Al was about to leave the restroom. Saying a curt goodbye the American hung up the phone and went to work moving new canvases out into the main room of the shop.
Francis sighed as he walked into work a few minutes later and smiled at a well-known person that only glared at him as if he was the devil. "Arzur, it iz so nice to zee you this morning, how have you been? Any luck wiz your little friend?" Francis asked, throwing on his apron as the other man only grunted. He was staring at that paper that had Francis constantly puzzled. He half expected that it was some kind of love-letter though he didn't know who would fall in love with a beast like Arthur. His eyebrows were as dark as his personality.
Finally the Brit looked up at him and shook his head, "Not at all. I think he's avoiding me…" Arthur's eyes had drifted down to the blue book that Francis had laid on the counter with much care and gentleness. Cautiously reaching out a hand he attempted to open the book and look through it, thinking it was some kind of diary. If so he'd have to make fun of the French bastard for it. Sadly though, Francis noticed and brushed Arthur's hand away from it. "What's wrong, Francis? Afraid to let me read your diary?" the sandy blonde poked at Francis who only rolled his eyes.
"It iz not my diary, it iz a friend of mine's sketchbook and I don't zink he would like you going through it," Francis muttered and scowled at Arthur as they waited for the restaurant to open for the day. Both of them had started to work there a year ago after they'd gotten in a type of contest where they had to see who could hold a job longest. They ended up dropping the bet though they kept their jobs there because they paid well. Arthur looked towards the door of the restaurant for a moment wishing to just get the day over with so he could go home and check his Tumblr and YouTube for that artist's message. His eyes kept traveling back to that book though until he finally snatched it off the counter.
Francis absolutely glared at the other waiter who was now flipping through the book with wide eyes. He didn't attempt to grab it back for fear of ripping the book; Arthur seemed to be quite gentle with it anyways so Francis simply stood next to him and watched him flip through the pages. Finally Arthur turned to Francis with a slightly dropped jaw and a look of complete surprise. The Brit's voice slightly wavered as he spoke to Francis, "You have to introduce him to me. This is who I've been looking for I can tell just from the look of this and the signature matches perfectly." Arthur held the book in front of him as if it was his most prized possession.
The long-haired man only raised a perfect brow at Arthur before he sighed and held his hand out for the book which was reluctantly given back. Francis then looked over Arthur with a small smirk, "Why iz Alfred's art zo important to you? Do you have a crush on him or zomething?"
The look on Arthur's face was one of distaste and pure annoyance at the Frenchman as he pushed past him to go change the restaurant's sign to open. "Of course not, I've only ever met the man once and I don't even know his name!" Arthur huffed, welcoming the first few people to the restaurant with a soft smile hoping that maybe the American would be in the group. He was disappointed though when he didn't see him. Glaring at the French man slightly he began to set to work taking orders, as did Francis. He didn't notice Francis texting somebody every so often.
"Thanks again, Tino! I'll be back in about an hour!" Alfred called as he left the shop to shoot off down the street. He needed to retrieve his sketchbook from his friend as well as grab lunch for Tino and himself. Looking down at the address that he'd been texted, he finally found the building and was shocked to see where exactly the Frenchman was employed. It was the same restaurant that Arthur worked at. Looking up and down the road for a moment he contemplated not going inside and just getting his book tomorrow when they went out. Then he remembered that it was a Friday, so there was a chance that Arthur wasn't working that day.
Staying low the American cautiously peered through the window of the restaurant and instantly became entranced by a pair of green eyes. Those eyes changed between three emotions in just a matter of minutes before they disappeared: confusion, surprise, and an odd mix of anger and curiosity. Alfred heard the door of the restaurant open and close though he was a bit too startled to even move until a voice snapped him out of his trance. Alfred stared at Arthur with a look of both fear and surprise on his face, "I-I uh…what did you…say?"
The Brit scoffed and jabbed a finger into Alfred's chest, causing Alfred to recoil away from Arthur and rub at the spot as if it hurt badly. "I said; why the fuck didn't you contact me? I gave you my fucking Tumblr and my YouTube account! I was interested in hearing your fucking ideas, don't artists like it when people want to hear their ideas?" Arthur yowled at him. He noticed how Alfred seemed to shy away from him though he was a bit to pissed off to care. With a scowl he looked over the American, "I don't care what the bloody fuck you want to be. I just wanted to see your art because I think it's amazing and I thought it was very inspirational."
Al looked at him with wide eyes for a moment out of surprise before he let out a shy little smiled and muttered, "You…think me art is inspirational?" This earned a nod from the Brit who crossed his arms in front of his chest and glared at the smiling French man who stood inside. Alfred followed his gaze to stare at his friend who held up the sketchbook innocently. Turning back to Arthur he decided that he probably needed to apologize for not contacting him sooner. "I'm sorry for not contacting you Arthur…I just…never thought anyone would actually like my art," he said before holding a hand out for him.
Arthur looked at the hand skeptically for a moment before reaching out to take it with a small sigh. He then inquired, "You already know me, but what's your name?"
Alfred then gave Arthur a bright smile and shook his hand enthusiastically, "My name is Alfred F. Jones. I'm a film-student at the college though I think I may start looking into my drawing as a hobby." That comment made Arthur smile though he was a lot more interested in Alfred's smile, it just seemed so bright and carefree. Just then Francis knocked on the glass of the window causing them both to turn towards him, "Ah, well I guess you should get back to work. I need to get lunch and grab my book." Arthur only nodded to him and led Alfred into the building, not realizing that he still had a tight hold on his hand. Alfred seemed not to notice though he was quick to pull his hand away once Francis came into view again.
"Sorry," Arthur muttered once he noticed that he'd been holding Alfred's hand and settled him down at a table. "I'd have Francis come over here to serve you, but he's busy. He's always the most requested waiter around here…"
The blue-eyed man just smiled at him and cocked his head to the side as Arthur handed him a menu to look through. Lightly laughing at the Brit's annoyed expression towards the confession Alfred said, "Well he does seem a bit more approachable than you Arthur. Maybe you should try smiling more, dude." The Brit only raised a brow at the suggestion before he rolled his eyes and turned towards the table behind him where a man was asking for more tea. Grabbing he cup he excused himself and went back to the counter to get the man's drink refilled. This left Alfred alone to order his food and also gave Francis an opening to come over.
Setting the blue book down on the table he smiled at Alfred warmly, "Zo I zee that you are zee reason zat my car iz in zee shop!" His voice was joking though Alfred seemed to take it more seriously and bowed his head slightly as he apologized. Francis acknowledged the apology by patting Alfred on the back and grinning at him, "You should invite him to come with us. I zink zat he likes you."
Alfred's face suddenly turned bright red as he looked up at Francis from over his menu, "W-What do you mean you think he likes me? We only just met…"
Francis just shrugged and said, "Love does not take long to form, Alfred." He then turned to walk off so that he may do his job, passing Arthur on his way to the kitchen. Arthur simply glared at him and handed the man his tea, passing a glance at Alfred. He noticed that the American was staring at him and he smiled lightly, waving to him. This caused the sunny blond to duck his head back behind the menu until Arthur came to take his order.
"Are you ready to order? You've had your head stuck in that menu for quite awhile Alfred," Arthur muttered as he walked over though Alfred didn't say anything at first. With a groan Arthur grabbed onto the menu and pulled it away from Alfred. He was surprised to find Alfred sitting there with quite a bright blush on his face, "Are you okay, Alfred?"
The American stared at the table for a moment as he nodded before he looked up at Arthur and said something that surprised the man, "I...like Francis." Alfred then looked back down at the table for a moment as if he expected Arthur to slap him or something. When the blow or whatever he'd been expecting didn't come, he turned to look at Arthur cautiously. Arthur only raised a brow at Alfred and looked towards the French man. "So uh…don't take this the wrong way. Would you like to…go out to this dinner thing with us tomorrow? We're inviting our friends and he told me I should invite you…" Alfred muttered, his voice was weak with both fear and embarrassment.
Arthur looked at Alfred with wide eyes before he let out a small chuckle and nodded, "Sounds fun. When, where, and is there a theme?" His smile was bright as he pulled out his notepad to scribble down the info as well as Alfred's order. Without further ado Arthur left to go back to the kitchen where he looked out at Francis curiously, noticing how Alfred glanced up at him every so often. He ignored the odd ache in his chest as he handed the order to the chef, he defiantly wasn't jealous of that bastard. What was there to be jealous about anyways? He didn't even know Alfred that well.
To the person that left a review entitled 'Sorry' I would like to say a few things: First off I would like it very much if you would actually leave a way for me to contact you so I don't have to go through my story. Secondly, I know you are trying to help me though I have to say that you've read into it too much. I am not asking for my readers to write the plot for me, but instead asking them to give me suggestions; therefore I can make the story better when I do get over my writers block. I do write out plots beforehand, it's just that they don't always float. Thank you and if you don't like how I write my stories or my stories in general then please do not read it. I'll tell you here and now that I will NEVER put a story up for adoption or leave it without end. Also, if you think something sounds rude, THEN DON'T SAY/POST IT because most likely it is and you CAN hurt people's confidence. I'm not sorry for having to get ideas from readers and I'm not sorry that I can't be a PERFECT writer who knows everything about what they want to do with a story. I like leaving things open so that I can take things from real life and add them in if I please. End of story and sorry to my other loyal readers who have to read this.