Arthur slowly opened his eyes to a blinding light, 'I really need to get some bloody curtains...' he thought to himself and laid his head back onto the pillow.

Still trying to adjust his eyes, he squinted at his clock. The hands were blurry to him so he squinted further. It didn't help much, but he guessed that it was noon. Arthur let out a low, grumbling sigh, "I really need to stop sleeping in so late."

After a few minutes of laying in bed, he finally decided to get up for the day. Swinging his legs lazily over the edge and stretching, he pushed himself up. He walked to the bathroom - which was actually pretty small, mirror, sink, toilet, and bathtub all in the view of the door - to quickly brush his teeth, then maneuvered to the kitchen to make tea. With the kettle on the pot, he went into the living room to sit down.

No one could really call it a living room, it was shabby with a light brown carpet, plane, white walls, a blue couch Arthur had bought when he moved to America, and a small end table. In fact it didn't even look as if anyone actually lived there; he had a dining table with two chairs, a few cups, plates, some cutlery, a kettle, no decorations on any of the walls, all his bedroom had in it was his bed, a nightstand, a clock and a dresser with his clothes in it. All he had brought over form London was in his bedroom, everything else he could've brought was his mother's.

Arthur leaned back in his couch and thought about the day his family had found out his secret. He was with his best friend from Paris and they had made the mistake of fooling around when the family was home. His mother seemed appalled and betrayed, his bothers disgusted and almost kicked him out that night, while Francis...Francis just left. Probably back to Paris. Arthur hadn't heard from him since. "Stupid frog." Arthur hissed through his teeth.

He heard the kettle begin to whistle and decided not to think about it anymore. What doesn't matter to them shouldn't matter to him.

It wasn't raining like the day before, but the wind blew a coldness that bit at Arthur's nose. He had been out looking for a job, since he so desperately needed one, but nowhere seemed to be hiring. 'Just my luck...' he thought angrily. 'I need top pay off this rent, and buy more food and tea. I need tea.'

Some hot tea actually seemed amazing, but he was so far form his apartment. Arthur remembered the cafe he had been at the other day and looked in his wallet; just enough for a cup. He shoved his wallet back in his trench coat and set off.

He walked a few blocks down, and when he turned the corner, the bright blue and pink colors of the building caught his eye. He trudged forward, pushing through the many people out and about on the sidewalk. Once he reached the cafe, he opened the clear door, ringing to sound his arrival. It was warm inside and the temperature change really hit his skin. It was busier than he had seen it before, an elderly man at the snack bar, more friends hanging around the jukebox, businessmen having lunch, a couple and a family at the booths. Today Teresa Brewer's "Till I Waltz Again With You" played, the slow shuffle of the song making everything seem calm.

Arthur noticed the booth he had taken the other day was open and decided to sit there. He stared out the window until he heard a familiar voice, "Back again, are we?"

He turned to see the waiter from before, a grin painted on his face. Arthur raised an eyebrow "You remember me?" he asked, a little intrigued.

"'Course! I couldn't forget eyebrows like that." the waiter chuckled.

Arthur scowled. "Just get me my damn tea." he said harshly.

The other man laughed loudly and disappeared behind the white door. The Brit huffed, "Didn't his mum ever teach that kid any damn manners?" he said to himself.

The blue-eyed water came back with a cup of tea, milk, honey, and sugar like before and set it in front of Arthur. Still a little annoyed at the eyebrows remark, he murdered his thanks and dipped two spoonfuls of sugar into his cup. He glanced up for God-knows why and happened to catch the latter wink at him, then quickly walk behind the divider. Arthur sat there for a moment, tea cup still in hand, processing what he had just seen. This water, this young, attractive waiter that worked in a small cafe in New York City couldn't be...He couldn't be like Arthur. Could he..?

~Notes~

I know this chapter isn't long, and I wanted to make it longer, but I was having a bit of trouble getting past the part where Arthur ordered his tea. I have ideas, I just think they should be used in later chapters. I promise the story will pick up from here! ;v;