Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.
Kiku sat in his editor's office, reading his latest chapter over and over again nervously. He knew it was not going to be mistake-free, it never was, but he hoped there was enough to merit it to not have his spirits completely crushed. His eyes narrowed at some of the words he had written in English. Some of them that he thought were fine earlier now looked very odd, but he couldn't remember the correct spelling anyway. He looked up for a moment to survey his editor's office. As always, the items on the desk, shelves and furniture were arranged immaculately. It was this almost scary tidiness that gave Editor Ludwig a fearsome overhanging presence even when he was not there.
Kiku looked at his watch. 9:59. Those two will be here in three…two…one…
The door swung open as a small young man with auburn hair came bursting into the room, a dizzy smile on his face as usual.
"Ciao, Kiku!" he practically sang. "Have you been busy this week?"
To Kiku, this was a mildly annoying question. I've completed forty pages of drawing and writing for this week's deadline, but don't worry, it wasn't at all time-consuming. But he had many thoughts that would only ever stay inside his head, this being one of them, so he gave a nod and held up his script.
"Ah, cool! I just can't get enough of your pretty pictures!" He turned to the door. "Don't you think so too, Luddy?" Kiku's editor, who only went by the name of Ludwig, marched in, putting down his briefcase beside his desk as he took a seat on the opposite side of Kiku.
"They are not 'pretty pictures', Feliciano." Ludwig looked to Kiku, frowning. "This is another chapter of a marketable artwork project. Or so I hope."
Kiku slid down in his seat slightly. I've already disappointed you, Ludwig-san.
Feliciano hovered around like a fly, beaming and chattering about traffic, dinner and what fun he had last night. Kiku had to hand it to him, in the right situation, Feliciano's ability to make quick-paced (albeit rather one-sided) conversation to two individuals who were there for business could be considered a skill.
It made him a desirable talent agent.
Ludwig cleared his throat and took his glasses out of their case. "Let us see what you're inflicting on the world this time," he said, putting his glasses on and taking a pencil from the pot on his desk. With his square-shaped, black-rimmed glasses, he reminded Kiku of the teacher he had at school who would always tell him off for daydreaming in class. Feliciano zoomed towards him to read over his shoulder, his hands on the back of Ludwig's chair as he craned over him. Ludwig took out his pencil almost immediately and started making notes in the margins, speaking out loud as he did so.
"It would be more appropriate to use 'Rite' of Passage, spelled R-I-T-E, instead of 'Right' of Passage here, to describe the initiation ceremony. 'Deceived' is spelt with an E-I – here you put 'I-E.'"
"Oh! My mama told me a little rhyme to help us remember that!" Feliciano chimed helpfully. "Remember Kiku, 'I before E except after C!'"
Kiku typed the rhyme on a draft page on his phone, knowing he would never remember otherwise. The pencil swept across the page to write on the other side.
"I think you mean 'come through here' instead of 'come threw here', the difference being one is a preposition, the other a verb." Kiku nodded, pretending he knew what Ludwig meant. Ludwig's frown deepened as he read. "You can be a 'waste of space', but not a 'waist of space'."
"I'm sorry?"
Feliciano laughed. "What Luddy means is, the way you've used an 'I' and no E means instead of the waste you want, you've written this one!" He reached down and squeezed Ludwig around his middle. Ludwig yelped and batted him off.
"Feliciano Vargas, will you start acting professional and stop being inappropriate?!"
"Aw, I was just demonstrating what 'waist' Kiku used!"
"Well, if you continue to demonstrate so physically I will have you removed from my office for being a 'waste' of space!" Kiku watched his editor argue with his agent, the confusing word war lost on him. He was, however, observant and resourceful in other ways. As he watched Ludwig shout with an unmistakeably reddened face, he took out a small journal, flipped to a clean page and started quietly sketching his colleagues. He wasn't quite quiet enough, as Ludwig spotted him and said, "You had better not use us as 'inspiration' again! Even if that scene was well-received, I want to be able to argue without it being recorded and used to demonstrate what a 'tsundere' Quentin is."
"Of course not, Ludwig-san," said Kiku, horrified. Kiku, being so shut off from the rest of the world, sometimes felt the need to draw expressions by observing the ones regularly given by his colleagues. Never though would he draw characters that looked like the duo in front of him, nor would he quote them, borrow Feliciano's jokes or use their names for anything other than giving them credit as his staff team at the back of each published volume. Kiku valued his privacy, and with it he valued the privacy of others too. But…there was nothing stopping him from drawing Ludwig's frown or Feliciano's smile, if he put them on Sir Tobias Gallant and Prince Quentin.
Ludwig had calmed down and was turning to the next page. Feliciano had settled himself on the arm of Ludwig's chair, that contented dozy smile making its triumphant return. Kiku wondered how Feliciano had managed to redeem himself so quickly and regretted not listening. Then again, Kiku had noticed that Ludwig had a soft spot for the upbeat Italian. Ludwig let him get away with a lot, considering his temper, be it personal space invasions, illnesses or untamed curls of hair. Still, in order to charm yourself to anyone at all, you have to be somewhat charming, he thought. He had to conclude he was not one of these people when Ludwig suddenly slammed both palms on the table.
"REALLY?" he shouted in an outraged tone.
Kiku glanced at the upside-down script, wondering what part they had got up to. Surely he hadn't reached the silly ending of Prince Quentin's heart-felt speech yet, and even then he hadn't taken Ludwig for a huge…what do they call a relationship enthusiast now? Ah yes, a Gallant and Quentin shipper. Somehow that sounds very odd. Oh well.
"'Really', Ludwig-san?"
"Yes, REALLY. You spelt REALLY wrong!"
"All he needed was another L..." said Feliciano timidly.
"That someone who would like to call himself an author in any form would make this error is an outrage! Atrocious! Do you not double-check your work to see if there is a spelling that blatantly looks wrong?!"
Kiku took the script from Ludwig's desk and looked back at the 'realy', which was now easier to spot as it had multiple rings drawn by an angry pencil round it. His opinion of his English capacities hit an all-time low and he bowed his head, trying to not show how upset he was. Ludwig noticed this and softened.
"This is an unusually bad mistake for you, and…" He turned some more pages over. "You have spelt it right on other pages."
"Was something affecting your concentration when you wrote this?" Feliciano asked, his eyes widening sympathetically. Kiku frowned as he tried to remember when he wrote it.
"I think I wrote that page at 3 in the morning," he admitted. Ludwig and Feliciano exchanged a look before turning back to Kiku.
"Even I am starting to think you're over-working," Ludwig sighed. "The quality of your work would be better if you looked after yourself more. This week, cut down to just thirty pages, or even twenty-five. Other mangaka have done that, especially those working for a weekly deadline, as you do."
"Ludwig-san, other mangaka can afford to do that. As Knight or Never only has a small cult following…"
"Then not many people will mind if this next chapter is shorter!" replied Feliciano cheerfully.
Kiku raised his eyebrows under his long fringe. Feliciano really did spot the thinnest of silver linings among the clouds. Kiku was not sure this was helpful all the time.
"Well, it would be nice if Knight or Never could gain popularity," said Ludwig, taking his glasses off to rub his face. "We would have better funding, recognition and respect as a result." His blue eyes met Kiku's. "Though it comes down to this; the three of us are here because we like the project, nothing more or less." Kiku gave him a grateful nod, but was still ill at ease about the page count.
"The next chapter is the climax of this arc," he said. "I don't want to let the readers down by rushing it."
"Climaxes are allowed to be short and snappy," Ludwig assured him. "And if you find you can't fit all you want in twenty-five pages, you can spread the content over two chapters."
"And…" This next question embarrassed Kiku before he even said it, but he felt he had to ask it. "What will I do with the extra hours?" Both Feliciano and Ludwig looked taken aback.
"Why, anything!" Ludwig said, confused. "Anything you like!"
"I know! How about you use the extra time to take a siesta?" Feliciano suggested excitedly. "Then you will stop spelling small words wrong. As everyone says, Quality over Quantity!"
The rest of the meeting passed with Ludwig pointing out more errors and making suggestions and Kiku nodding along to everything he said. When Feliciano fell asleep, still on the arm of Ludwig's chair, Ludwig had picked him up, carried him to the small sofa in the office and laid him there, and Kiku had had to resist drawing the scene to use later. At the end of the meeting, Ludwig started packing his folders away in his briefcase. Kiku shyly mumbled, "How are the illustrations?" Ludwig looked up at him, his expression serious.
"The pictures…" He gave the smallest of smiles. "The pictures are perfect, as always."
Kiku uttered a quiet 'thank you', but inside, his heart raced. Perfect...if I could be perfect, I think I would feel complete.
Arthur tiredly trudged up to his flat, rifling through his wallet for his keys. After working at the office for an extra hour, all he wanted to do was to flop down on the sofa with a microwavable meal and watch television until his eyes went blurry. He paused as he heard laughter from the other side of the door, an all-too familiar 'Honhonhonhon!'
The chances of him being able to relax in the living room were looking less likely.
He unlocked the door and pushed it open. As expected, his flatmate Francis was lounging on the sofa, a glass of wine in his hand, looking like the cat that got the cream as he spoke in a sensuous voice to a pretty young lady, who Arthur presumed was his latest date. What Arthur didn't expect was the state of the kitchen, which looked like a tornado had swept through it. Albeit a tornado that could cook.
"Francis," Arthur started, trying to keep his voice even. The name 'Francis' felt strange on his tongue. Normally he addressed Francis with far ruder names, but he didn't want to stoop so low as to embarrass him in front of his companion. "You haven't yet cleaned up."
"Hmm?" Francis looked up at him, raising his delicate eyebrows. "Ah…Arthur, mon cher…" He winked at his girlfriend, who giggled daintily. "Could we leave it for now? We're just a little…busy right now."
"Doing what exactly?"
"Shh, calm down," Francis purred. "Nothing like what I think you're implying. You certainly leap to conclusions." Arthur felt his cheeks burn, for what felt like the twentieth time that day. He searched for a sharp comeback, but couldn't find one, so went back to the serious matter at hand.
"Well, if you don't clean up, then I will have to!"
"Non, non." Francis stood up, circled the sofa to reach Arthur and started gently rubbing the irritated man's shoulders. "You could do something daring, like leave them for later." He winced as Arthur elbowed him in the stomach to free himself. Arthur turned around to face him, more annoyed than ever.
"I'm not leaving dirty dishes and pans around. How am I supposed to cook with them otherwise?" He left out the fact that he hadn't planned on cooking that night. He wanted another reason to be angry. Francis smiled knowingly.
"Perhaps, Arthur, that might be a blessing in disguise?" Arthur looked about for something to throw at him. Francis stepped forward to hold Arthur by the forearms. "Let's not fight in front of a lady," he warned the Brit. "Anyway, you don't have to stay here by yourself. Maybe you would like to come out with us tonight? We are going to a nightclub."
Arthur frowned, considering it for a moment. It would be nice to tell Alfred and everyone at work that he did go out sometimes, if only to shut them up when they next joked about him being antisocial. But was it worth hours of having his eardrums blasted with loud music, a high risk of doing embarrassing stunts while everyone sober recorded them, and having a pounding headache the next morning? Arthur shook his head.
"Non? You don't want to chat to people and dance the night away?" A sneaky smile emerged across Francis's lips and Arthur somehow knew his flatmate was trying to envisage Arthur dancing the night away. Arthur just about bit back his retort. "Well, if you insist on not coming, then we shall leave you in peace. Let's go, Lisa."
As Lisa skipped out the door, looking a little relieved to be leaving, Francis leant against the doorway, folding his arms. He looked disappointed. "You know, if you actually went out to have fun once in a while, you might have more friends." He turned away, his long blond hair swishing as he left, shaking his head. The door closed behind him, leaving a distinct silence in the flat for a moment.
Arthur let out a long sigh and turned to start washing the cooking utensils and plates. The lovely fragrance around the kitchen unit only irritated him further. His daily routine was quickly descending into waking up, burning breakfast, going to work, having lunch with an idiot, going back to work, and then returning home to another idiot, then probably burning dinner too. He frowned, scrubbing the plates harder. What was more annoying was neither Alfred nor Francis could be called idiots in the true sense, disregarding the odd silly moment. No, what was truly frustrating for Arthur was that both could get under his skin, and they both knew this and liked this and at times seemed to deliberately provoke him. Now that was idiotic.
He remembered both of them craftily invading his personal space – like even the space around me belongs to them – Alfred in his friendly way, Francis in his flirty way. Arthur was often accused of being uptight and not understanding social cues, but in regards to these two, he believed his judgement was sound. They both reached out for him, tried to involve him and get closer to him…then all of a sudden they would take a step back, usually just as Arthur was warming up to them. I don't want to understand either of them. I know when I'm being played with.
Arthur started drying the plates with an Eiffel Tower patterned tea towel. 'Played with', yes… he remembered last Valentine's Day, when he spent his lunch listening to Alfred wistfully talking about being in the mood for chocolate. Arthur had taken this as an implication that Alfred would be happy to have a Valentine's gift, so visited his house with a box of chocolates. When he turned up at his door, Alfred was already cramming his cheeks with supermarket-bought chocolate. Arthur had had to explain why he was there, and…
Alfred had laughed at him.
That was the moment Arthur had decided to keep on guard, for the main basis of his and Alfred's friendship seemed to be the amusement Alfred got out of him. But sometimes, in fact quite a lot if Arthur was being honest with himself, Alfred seemed to be genuinely trying to make their friendship 'work.' Like today. He didn't have to get him a new book to read. Thinking about it, Arthur remembered saying the other day that he would like a new book to sink his teeth into, when Alfred had smiled in a mischievous way, as if planning something. This must have been his plan.
Arthur dried his hands and slipped a hand into the paper bag, pulling out Knight or Never Volume 1 carefully. He turned to what he thought the first page, only to be met by a cheery message which politely told him he was trying to read the wrong way. He smiled slightly and curled up in his favourite armchair, ready to give his new friends Sir Gallant and Prince Quentin his full attention.
Author's Note: Hello, thanks for reading! This chapter is dedicated to beta readers everywhere :) Having just written all about it, I'm going to go and spell 'really' wrong now, aren't I… Hope you enjoyed the chapter!