Folk
Magnetizing with your mystifying charm, you drew people to you effortlessly. You weren't surprised when Alfred danced over and offered you a hat, declaring, "We're playing Seven Minutes in Heaven! Are you game?" You hesitated. Seven Minutes in Heaven was a little unrefined for your tastes, not to mention, it made you feel insecure for multiple reasons. "C'mon! It'll be so much fun! I promise!"
Before you could decline, however, Alfred wielded his puppy eyes on you and you surrendered, deciding to make the best of it. Your hand disappeared into the hat and returned to you. A type of music was scrawled on the inside. Your gaze didn't reveal anything, so Alfred eagerly asked, "What'd you get?" Glancing up, you replied:
"Folk."
Surprise slipped through Alfred's glasses and Elizabeta, who was sneaking up on you, stopped. Insecurity crept up your throat; the glance they two exchanged suggested lack of knowledge concerning the situation. Alfred glanced at Elizabeta, "'Folk'? Was there someone who wrote that down or was it, y'know, assigned?"
"Hmm…" the Hungarian girl mused, "…it might have been him."
Feigning understanding, Alfred exclaimed, "Oh yeah! Of course! Him!"
Him who? Suspicious, you folded your arms. If I get set up with a stranger…
"Well, no matter!" Elizabeta grinned cheerfully. "Now, into the closet, m'dear!"
Alarmed, you were abruptly pushed into the closet by surprisingly strong hands and the door was slammed shut. Wincing as you situated yourself, you rubbed your knees; Elizabeta was going to find Roderich quite the difficult person when his sheet music went missing, replaced by her makeup. Folding your arms, you leaned against the wall and waited, mind drifting.
Gradually, your knees slid up and against your chest as a consolation; you were insecure. Where matters of the heart were concerned, you took precautions. Leaning your head against your shoulder, contemplating quietly, you wondered who would join you.
"So this must be the infamous closet!"
Flinching, you heard an unfamiliar, booming voice, which proved louder than the unlatching of the closet door. The contrasting brightness from outside the closet pierced your eyes, however, and you had to look away, unable to see who was joining you. Before you could request freedom, the door was closed and you were no longer alone. Swallowing hard, you hoped your eyes would readjust.
"And who do I have the pleasure of spending seven minutes with tonight?"
Startled by the jovial purr that was suddenly beside your ear, you exclaimed, "W-wait a minute! Who are you?" Squinting in the dark, you had no hope of seeing who your partner was and that frustrated you. But there was something about the man's flamboyant laugh that bridled your discomfort.
"Won't that take the excitement out of it?"
"Not really," you replied quietly but pleasantly, "I just like to know who I'm with."
Chuckling, the man replied, "Ahh, I see! You know, I won't do anything with you if you're not comfortable, but it's so hard to control myself around such a beautiful young lady!" Charmed, you might have been suspicious if the voice sounded superficial or lusty, but there was an earnest happiness about it that calmed you. "What's the matter, pretty girl?" A long finger caught your chin and you caught a glint of hazel-brown eyes that resembled Feliciano's remarkably.
"N-nothing's the matter!" Surprised by his intimacy, you blushed. "Besides, how do you know I'm pretty?"
"Oh please!" He laughed enjoyably. "I recognize a gorgeous girl when I see one!"
"But it's so dark!" Your eyes struggled to adjust. "How can you see?"
Releasing your chin presumably to point to his head, the man replied, "One sees with more than just his eyes! At least, any man with more than just a dick to brag about does." Embarrassed by his blunt candor, you covered your mouth. Just who was this guy? "You know, I've always found that big hearts are better received in the long run! Wouldn't you agree, il mio piccola fidanzata?" (*my little sweetheart)
"Of course!" The man was interesting, no doubt about that. "Love is more important than looks."
"Exactly!" There was a grin in his voice. "That's why you do not need to see my pretty face tonight!"
"Eh?" Now you were frowning, but an amused smile tugged on your lips. "What do you mean by that?"
Before you realized what was happening, however, his lips collided with yours. Eyes widening, you couldn't believe what was happening and confusion lurched within you. Why weren't you stopping him? Strong as the joy in his laughter, perhaps there was no stopping him. One hand cupped your waist whilst the other apprehended your head. Why weren't you saying anything? Because, you would later admit, you were enjoying it too much.
The way his smiling lips pressed eagerly into yours, seeking your happiness, was incomparably sweet.
Seducing you with a single kiss, the man caressed your cheeks softly, running a finger down your jaw as he pulled away. Breathless and wordless, you stared at his enigmatic figure. "Did you like that, mia cara?" (*my dear) Astonished, you could only nod and hope that he saw the jerky bob of your head.
Who is this man? Touching your lips, you wondered, and it was almost as if he heard your thoughts.
Drawing closer to you so that your foreheads touched, the man asked, "Do you see the beauty of the mystery yet? You know, Feliciano tells me that you are quite the enigma yourself!" Intrigued that he knew Feliciano as well, you made a mental note to see the Italian upon being freed from the closet; perhaps he could tell you about this man. "He also tells me that you sometimes seem hard on yourself."
"E-eh?" Taken aback by the sudden seriousness and your friend's insight, you replied, "Sometimes?"
"Aww, why worry your beautiful head?" The brilliant smile returned and a kiss fell upon your cheek.
Where was all of this coming from? "I-I'm not hard on myself all the time!" Insistent, you were too distracted to notice his hands sensually roaming your hips. "I mean, I suppose," you started, not sure where you were going or why, "yeah, sometimes I'm hard on myself. I get insecure just like any other girl, you know?" The quiet shuffle of a nod comforted you. "Sometimes, I just want to get out and have fun without feeling so…insecure."
"I understand," the man nuzzled your cheek affectionately, "is there anything I can do?"
The words left your mouth before your thoughts reviewed them: "Kiss me."
Awkwardness didn't have time to touch your cheeks; he arrived first. Mouthing sweet nonsense as he kissed your lips, your jaw, and then down your neck, the man seduced your entirety in mere seconds. Tracing the hollow of your throat with his tongue, he gently laid you down, pressing his body on top of yours. Enamored, you moaned and lifted your hips into his. Grinding dominantly against you while lifting his lips to kiss your ajar mouth, he whispered, "You know, it's funny; at the beginning and at the end of love, the two lovers are embarrassed to find themselves alone."
Confused, you didn't get to reply in anything but kisses.
Later, you would remember that line.
One hand slipping between your thighs while the other entangled itself in your hair, he fingered circles around your leg whilst kissing you deeply, profoundly. Hands stroking his strong face, down his neck, and across his broad shoulders, you allowed the flash of a white flag as he lifted up your skirt, sliding his hand within. When he touched you, you moaned softly; it felt too good to stop.
The minute you realized where he was touching you, however, was the second he disappeared.
Suddenly, the door to the closet was flung open and again, you were blinded.
"Oh my God! I'm so sorry dude!"
The first thing you saw was the closet ceiling. Gaze magnified to display your incredulity, Alfred's frantic voice stole your attention as his shadow enveloped you. "Alfred?" You were completely befuddled. Where was that guy? The minute you closed your eyes, hanging on the brink of pleasure, he disappeared.
"Aww, man! I totally forgot that we left you in here!" Alfred offered his hand.
"That's all right," you mused, hoping you weren't crazy, "I'm okay."
"Jeez, we just couldn't find 'Folk' anywhere!" Alfred pouted.
"Oh, you couldn't?" You were bemused beyond belief.
"No! We looked all over the party and everything!"
Then, what happened? Finger grazing your lips, your jaw, your neck, you followed where the man had touched you—he had touched you, you know he did. Recalling the mention of Feliciano, you interrupted Alfred's apology, "Wait, Alfred, where is Feliciano?" The question probably wasn't necessary you quickly discovered when you noticed Feliciano bouncing around Ludwig by the snack table.
"Huh? Oh, over there," the American indicated with his thumb, "why?"
"Because I need to ask him something," you furtively replied, leaving Alfred by the closet.
Approaching Feliciano quickly and quietly, you didn't need to ask for his attention because the moment he sensed you, the Italian whipped around to embrace you. More concerned with getting your questions answered, you allowed him to hug you and excitedly chortle, "Ve~! I haven't seen you in forever!" Ludwig cast him a scolding glare whilst offering you an apologetic shrug. "We need to hang out sometime, ve~!"
"Y-yes," you broke away from him, smile hard, "I know. Hey, could I ask you something?"
"Anything at all!" Feliciano kissed your cheek. "Ask away, mia cara!"
Practically jumping on those two words, you exclaimed, "Exactly! Right there! Feliciano, that's Italian, right?" Judging the innocence in his agreeing nod, you asked, "Do you have a family member, like a brother or cousin or something, who speaks Italian too?"
Feliciano nodded excitedly. "Sì! My big brother Romano!"
You shook your head. "No, other than Romano—is there anyone else?"
Feliciano contemplated for a moment before relying, "I don't think so, well, maybe…no, can't be."
A flicker of hope was better than nothing. "Tell me! Who else?" Ludwig tilted his head at you and the Italian, clueless as to what was going on. But you were too focused on the subject at hand to pay much attention to the German, who was casually wandering towards Kiku. "Feliciano!" The desperation in your voice was rather unlike you, but you needed to know.
"W-well, just Grandpa!" Feliciano spluttered. "But," his voice quieted, "he died a long time ago."
Disappointment doused your flicker of hope. "Oh," you scrunched up your eyes. Well, count that out—there was no way the person was his grandfather. "Is that really all you can think of?" Earnestly trying, Feliciano thought for another moment before nodding. With a sigh, you thanked him and reassured him that the question was nothing of importance.
Leaning against the snack table as Feliciano gave you a goodbye hug and scurried off to regroup with Kiku and Ludwig, you suddenly found yourself graced with Elizabeta's company. With a small smile as she poured herself a drink, she said, "You seem muddled. Is there anything I can do?"
The familiar line made you bite your lip, but you managed a smile. "No, no; I'm good." Sipping her drink and facing the party with you, you both watched your friends mingle. Without warning, words tumbled from your lips, "You know, it's funny," your stare dropped to the floor and Elizabeta gave you her gaze, "at the beginning and at the end of love, the two lovers are embarrassed to find themselves alone."
Cheeks flushing, you questioned where that came from.
A knowing grin split your friend's lips, "Oh? Do you enjoy Jean De La Bruyere's quotes?"
Rubbing the back of your neck, you replied, "I suppose. That quote just popped into my mind, that's all."
Placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, Elizabeta smiled. "Would you like to lay down?"
With a shake of your head, you declined. "No, but thank you."
Hand sliding off your shoulder, Elizabeta scurried off to see Roderich, who was impatiently flagging her down. When the Austrian embraced his Hungarian sweetheart, a pang of loneliness touched your heart. Sighing and turning to get a drink, you suddenly found a tall boy in jeans and a patriotically colored t-shirt grinning at you with a drink in hand.
"Here," Alfred smiled winningly at you, "I really am sorry about that whole mix-up thing."
"Thanks," you accepted the drink, "and don't worry about it—it's quite all right."
"Gah, you're too forgiving," Alfred chuckled. "I don't know how you do it!"
"Magic?" you offered, causing him to choke on his Mountain Dew.
"Say what? Dude, don't go all British on me!" Alfred grimaced.
"Kidding!" you chimed. "Anyway, the closet wasn't bad."
"If you insist!" Alfred sighed. "Hey, you free later?"
Those big blue eyes came out—expert at getting what they wanted. Considering everything that had happened, you asked, "Could you give me a minute to decide?" Alfred nodded, flashing you a woeful look, but you merely smiled. How could you let yourself get seduced twice in one night? That just wouldn't be proper. Observing the party, returning to luring people to you with your quiet obscurity, you mulled over everything that had taken place in the closet.
Watching you from afar, however, was your most ardent admirer; unbeknownst to you, perhaps you would meet again.
