The truck crept at snail's pace as it slowly dragged us to the edge of the street and then collapsed there; the big hulking thing was starting to fall apart in places, it won't be too long yet before it has to get replaced, even though Alfred claims that no other truck could do what Franklin (Yes, he gave the bloody thing a name) has been doing for the last three years, despite the fact that it was old even before then so he probably doesn't know any different.

The small street tucked away in the depths of the city seemed void of all citizens; it was surprising to say the least that a place like this could remain quiet for so long. It was almost as if it was in its own little protective bubble, free of all noises and distractions and just a place of pure contentedness.

Just as everything seemed silent in the small Parisian street, Alfred called out, his voice booming above all noises.

"HEY MATT! YOU HERE?"

I cringed towards the other end of the truck, ears ringing from Alfred's shout, and when I risked going near him again I could see a slight figure running towards us from out of the driver's window; a boy around the same age as Alfred jogging up to the bulky vehicle.

"Hey Alfred, didn't think you'd be here so soon." The boy spoke in such a quiet voice that I almost didn't catch what he said, the volume difference was so immense compared to Alfred's loud mouth, I suppose that may have been influenced by the street bubble, but some kind of aura from the boy made it seem as if he has always been this reclusive.

"Artie, this is my step bro Matthew. He's originally from Canada but he lived in the states with me before I left. He moved in here just around two years ago."

He's never told me he had a brother before…In fact, he's never really told me much about his family before he came to the UK. He seemed nice enough though, despite staring at me with a slightly surprised expression…probably at my eyebrows, everyone stares at those. Oh well. I put on a smile and gave Matthew a curt nod.

"Is that so? Nice to finally meet you Matthew, well, if you'll excuse me I suppose you want a bit of time to catch up with each other." I said as pleasantly as I could before slipping the door open to leave them alone.

"I'll be helping out with the equipment if you need me."

The sun hit me as soon as I exited the passenger's seat, boring a scalding hole into my back as I took my time to reach everyone else who had begun to unload our cargo from the back, Alan carefully guiding out the amp with Bryn gently pushing it out the end of the truck bit by bit while Sean and Thomas aided each other in pulling out the boxes of wires and microphones. I jumped up into the truck and started to shift some of the instruments when Bryn bumped into me, knocking me off balance and sending me falling on my side.

"Whoops, sorry Gwningen." He smirked as he pulled the snare drum out of the corner. The Prick. I quickly got up and inspected the guitar, thankfully it wasn't damaged, or Bryn wouldn't be playing tonight, or any nights for a while. I slung the case over my back and grabbed Sean's bass before jumping out the end of the truck and finally starting to acknowledge the holding place;

The building comprised of a set of relatively attractive apartments, pure white from the outside with intricately framed windows etched all the way up the walls. From the height I would imagine around twelve flights of stairs; it'll be a pain carrying everything up there but at least it'll be secure.

Once everything was finally out of the truck we began the trek to the door of the apartment; Thankfully Matthew didn't live at the top, and it was a miracle that none of the other habitants in other rooms came out to inspect the racket being made in such a soundless place, that being said, it wasn't long before we were at the Canadian's door, all of us worn out and dying on our feet from the heavy load split between us all, and it wasn't long after Matthew fumbled around with his keys and opened the door that we found that there was at least some noise in this calm little world in the backstreets of Paris; a whole lot of clatters, crashes and what sounded like German swearing.

"Verdammte Scheiße Entschuldigung für Möbel, DAS IST SO VERDAMMT NICHT EHRFÜRCHTIG-„

Another crash was heard from within the confines of Matthew's home as he carefully slid in and left us to wait until the shouting and swearing subsided, supposedly he must have scolded the other occupant, but with his voice volume we couldn't really tell if he had said anything at all.

After a few long moments of gentle murmuring Matthew appeared at the doorway and opened it wide for us, allowing a wide berth for the equipment as well as all of us in order to fit into the relatively small living room. It was a nice place, simple; plain white walls and a cream carpet, pieces of furniture scattered around with ornaments here and there, books which were all neatly placed in a large bookcase which occupied the corner of the room and numerous magazines strewn all over a coffee table tucked near to the wall in front of a little purple couch. The place was calm, homey if anything else.

"Gee Matt, it was just a couple glasses, and I can replace em'! Don't worry so much." A thickly German accented voice sounded from within the other room, and a few seconds passed before the owner of it came strutting through the doorway; a man Of similar age to me, with platinum blonde hair and blood red eyes prowling in and finally stopped to acknowledge the fact that there were other people present in the room with him.

He looked each one of us over, sizing us up as if to see who was deemed tolerable enough to speak to. His eyes finally rested on me and gave me one more look before his gaze shifted to the guitar case protruding from behind me on my shoulder. He edged closer and began to walk in circles around me, making faces and holding his chin in his fingers making him look like a comical detective, taking in everything from the green streaks in my hair to the numerous band and slogan badges pinned to the fabric case before stopping completely. He walked back in front of me and gave a final once over, before his lips twisted up into a sly grin and clasping his hand onto my free shoulder.

"Another Guitar enthusiast, huh? Kesese, Nice to meetcha'." He said as he took back his hand to shake my now free one.

"The name's Gilbert, but I like you, so you get to call me 'Gil the Awesome'." Gilbert proclaimed as he put particular emphasis on the word 'Awesome'. The confidence radiating from him was crazy…to say the least. He seemed ok though.

"I think Gilbert is just fine." I said as I shook back.

"I'm-"

"Arthur, I know. Al sent a photo of you and your bro's a few days before you got here. He was right about your eyebrow being big but wow!"

Scratch that, he wasn't ok anymore.

"…Thanks." I refrained from saying anymore just as Matthew and Alfred file into the room, talking and laughing like they were best friends. It was nice to see Alfred getting on with someone other than us; at least the sarcasm wasn't rubbing off on him by now.

"So everyone, will this be ok for you? I know it isn't all that big, but at least it's something. Right?" Matthew broke away from his and Alfred's conversation in his hushed tone.

"Don't sweat it Mattie, we're thankful you're actually ok with us being here. Mind you, we'll be out most of the time, it's mainly just the stuff that needs a safe hold." Sean explained as he set to work organising the wires from the boxes to match all their respected instruments.

"Yeah, we'll try to keep out of your hair as much as we can." Thomas added as he connected various wires to the amplifier. Matthew nodded and let his eyes travel until they rested on me and Gilbert.

"Ah, I see you met Gil. He's a big oaf, but he's harmless." Matthew shot him a short glare. "…Except for when he drinks." He added as an afterthought.

"Whoa, hold on. It's not like I hit you when I'm drunk, right? Don't worry your pretty little head about everything." Gilbert retaliated quickly before Matthew could add anything else. His tone seemed a little shocked at what Matthew had said…I wonder if…

"Excuse me Matthew, but you and Gilbert…are you…um, well…"

"Gay?" Gil blurted out almost immediately.

"Uhm…"

"Haha, yes Arthur. We are." Matthew complied to my question a lot more heartily than I thought he would; thank God he wasn't offended by that.

"Oh…well, ok then." I suddenly felt really awkward…

After what felt like hours of awkwardness, Alan decided to break the silence by announcing we start unpacking; in a matter of seconds everyone set to work dividing out all the equipment each of us will need for tonight such hands free earpieces, wireless connectors to the amplifier for each of the instruments and then began tuning, strumming and street mapping with the help of Matthew and Gilbert. It wasn't without bickering and the occasional punch or kick between us, but when we were all finished we had a clear layout of our escape routes, all instruments were tuned, and we each had emergency contact with each other. It was when this was all sorted that Gilbert shot us a pretty valid question;

"Hey guys, how are you all able to pay for this stuff? Are you rich or something?" The question caught us off guard for a moment, and then Bryn broke into a smile and answered

"Despite all the street wandering and trouble making, we all actually have decent jobs back in England." He explained curtly before Thomas broke in.

"Yeah, Alan here's a computer technician. So he deals with things like computer gadgets like these anyway." He plucked out his earpiece to illustrate. "Bryn does impersonation performances in pubs and stuff, Sean only has a part time job yet, Arthur and I work in a music store and Alfred puts to from working at an aquarium. Put all that together and we're not all that short on money. "He explained further as the two nodded in understanding.

It's been at least an hour now; I think it's about time to finally scour the surrounding area. Mapping it is all good, but I really need to take a look around before going out to perform, after all, running around in a city you don't know can get complicated when you don't know where you're going.

"Hope you don't mind, but I'm going to take a look around the area." I said as I shifted my guitar into its case and then back into the corner. The others nodded in agreement before I got up and made my way to the door.

"Arthur."

Not again.

"I promise Alfred, See you later." I said for the second time today.

I found myself wandering aimlessly around the crowded streets of Paris as I scanned all possible alleyways, apartment ladders, gates, walls, shops to duck into and any other kind of obstacle that can either be evaded or used to an advantage tonight. I felt almost like an escaped convict from Alcatraz with the way I kept power walking on, hands fisted at my sides and feet pounding down on the pavement. I felt almost alienated from the people who passed me, not because they were staring at me because of my green hair, Metallica T-shirt and bushy eyebrows, but because I was so on edge about being in a city so different from England, where I knew every street of every town like the back of my hand. Being in a city I have only seen a few streets of in the seat of a car and on a single route from Gilbert and Matthew's apartment, I'm worried about how evading the police and authorities will be for us in such a foreign place to what we're normally used to.

I wasn't worried because I was lost. That would just be ridiculous.

Turning a corner at the end of the street, I could almost feel my heart leap out of me for joy at the site of the first thing I looked up to see. A music shop smack dab in the middle of a high street in Paris is like a ray of sunshine descending from heaven as I jog across the street and peer in through the window; A vast variety of guitars; both acoustic and electric, drum kits, keyboards, effects units, synthesisers, mandolins, ukuleles, pianos and so many other amazing instruments and musical appendages waiting to be picked by someone to let their songful potential shine through. I gazed up at the banner across the top of the window; it read 'Une Sérénade Volante: magasin de musique' whatever the fuck that meant. All I was concerned about right now was going in and trying out as many instruments as I could before tonight. With one more meaningful gaze into the window at the array of instruments on display I quickly found myself gliding over to the door and stepping inside, and God it looked amazing.

There were different groups of people trying out lots of the different instruments presented around the store; each piece being played by them all melding into one big bloom of sound, so vastly contrasting to the quiet French murmurings of civilians on the other side of the store, this is what should be the picture of liveliness. The young schoolboy expertly beating at a drum kit creating a steady and fast rhythm, a thirty-something man resembling a heavy metal biker strumming on a Gibson ripper II bass, a group of men in the far corner all joking around while one tries to make a half decent sound out of an epiphone mm-20 mandolin, then after several seconds hands it to another of the group who comes out with the same result.

I stood there for little more than a moment, taking in all that was happening, the sensation of the music wrapping around me like a cloud of mist, not chocking me, but allowing me to embrace it before something caught my eye; at the back of the room, displayed on the wall there was a black and green Yamaha pacific electric guitar, presented perfectly in the middle of the wall just in front of me. I felt myself being pulled towards it, like I had been caught up in its own gravitational pull that only attracted me, and before I knew it I was plucking it off the wall and plopping down onto a stool, facing away from the pianos and began to slowly strum, caressing each string as I began to work different chords until someone walked up to me, supposedly a shop worker, who looked down at me from where he stood and then smiled as he beckoned to the counter. I couldn't really understand what he wanted of me, and since I couldn't speak any French, I just stood there as he paced down to the counter and began fumbling with something until he returned with a guitar lead. He gingerly plugged it into the guitar, and suddenly the entire store was staring in our direction as I quickly found a steady rhythm, capturing everyone's attention as I kept mine focused on the chords and slowly flaring out a captivating tempo of sound.

I began to slow to a stop before I heard something from behind me, someone had begun to play on one of the pianos opposite from me, even though I couldn't see them with my back turned, I could hear the precision and perfection of the black and white keys playing in harmony, sounding as if they were urging me to carry on, like the person behind me wanted me to keep going with them. So I did; the both of us creating a melody which started a sensation inside of me, nothing like when I'm sprinting through the streets with my own union jack St. special guitar trying not to miss a single strum while jumping across roofs and gates, doing everything I can to stay out of harm's way while delivering soul-driving music to any and all civilians within earshot, bringing them if only a few moments of what it feels like to be alive. No, this was a much stronger feeling than that, it was almost as if me and this guitar and the person behind me are all part of something far more fascinating and exhilarating than anything else I've experienced within my whole life of being involved with music. We both let the tunes take us, guide us and decide on our next move, our next key, next strum, next chord, until we both felt the sensation die down until it stopped completely. As we both ceased, applause rang from the rest of store, from all the people watching us and the others who were testing out instruments; the schoolboy, the biker, the group of friends, the clerk, were all clapping and sounding out praise to us.

I smirked as I unplugged the guitar finally and put the Yamaha back on the wall where it belonged. And finally I gathered up the courage to turn to the person still seated at the piano, walking up to him I took in the sight of shoulder length golden hair, a delicate yet masculine build and long, intricate fingers still positioned on the keys. As he slowly got up and turned to face me, I could have sworn I almost got lost in the brilliantly deep blue eyes staring straight into my green ones. His face was one that was surely above average attraction; Stunning blue eyes, slight stubble gracing his perfectly angular chin, high cheekbones, and sun kissed skin made him hard not to look at for too long.

I didn't know how long I must have been looking at him for; it must have been for some time as he started to stifle an annoyingly French laugh as if I had just done something to amuse him. I scowled at him until he stopped, all recognition of that fantastic sensation and feeling of belonging completely disappeared as I was about to yell at him just as 'bulletproof heart' rang out from my phone in my pocket. I regarded him coldly before fishing it out and checking the text sent. Surprise, surprise; it was from Alfred. Everyone's preparing for tonight and I should be there. I dropped my phone back in my pocket and started for the door before Frechie could do anything and headed back the way I came back to the apartment.

Hello again everyone! I really hope you enjoyed the second chapter, and will stick around for the next one~ So Arthur and Francis finally met for the first time, and the band are getting ready for their big gig! It's gonna be great XD Anyway, any revies and comments are sincirely appreciated, as well as any comnstructive criticism or advice for future plot pointers^^ Lets hope I can keep my attention span focused on this tory to it's completion!

Translations:Thank you to Croc'Sushi for correcting me on some of the french^^

For some odd reason word keeps crashing whenever I try to use accents, so sadly some of the french is grammatically incorrect...sorry about that :(

Verdammte Scheiße Entschuldigung für Möbel, DAS IST SO VERDAMMT NICHT EHRFÜRCHTIG - Fucking shit excuse for furniture, THIS IS SO FUCKING NOT AWESOME

'Une Sérénade Volante: magasin de musique' - A flying serenade: music store