A/N: I'm late and don't feel bad. My tumblr will explain why.

For the next two weeks, Toris felt himself trapped in a metaphorical forest of conflict. After the incident, he'd desperately wanted to confide in Feliks. But he'd made a promise, in the end opting to kill the urge to tell his blonde friend about his encounter with Alfred. Unfortunately, said encounter refused to leave his mind.

He had many questions for the blonde - many of which he tried to ask, but Alfred always dodged the question or avoided Toris completely. If he met him at lunch, the young blonde would either dump something on himself as an excuse to leave, or yell out randomly to change the subject. If they crossed paths in the halls, Alfred would attempt to hide behind plants, trash cans, or dive into a room - one of which had been filled with businessmen in the middle of a meeting during one attempt. It had gotten to the point where even Feliks noticed the almost comical evasions and inquired on their reasoning, which only made Toris tremble fighting the urge of temptation.

Alfred's performance had been amazing; it baffled the brunette why he'd be so persistent to keep quiet about it. Was the teen shy? It seemed that way, in Toris' opinion, but completely avoiding the subject to such lengths spoke more than simply being timid. One could argue Toris was timid, mainly round a certain violet-eyed Russian, but he could relate either way. He could help Alfred out of his shell, as shocking as it was to realize the energetic blonde had one. It hurt knowing their once comfortable friendship had down-turned because of his lack of personal space. Curiosity killed the cat, he supposed.

These thoughts ate at him even as he walked to a most exciting meeting - at least, to everyone else it was.

In an attempt to heighten sales even more, a meeting would be held with everyone involved in the process attending. Marketing, advertising, writers, publishers, advisers, graphic artists, stage prop engineers, studio recorders, merchandise advisers, musical instructors, and even the back-up dancers. Toris, as the sleazy writer who satisfied fan-girl(boy)'s ever turbulent itch, was invited to attend. The topic? Arthur Kirkland.

What a surprise, thought Toris. As if the world wanted to taunt him for the remark, the meeting soon did become a surprise when everyone caught sight of their target of discussion seated at the front, casually drinking tea and munching on English biscuits. He had to discuss his job with the actual face staring at him? It was official: the world hated him.

"Alright everyone, please take your seats."

All movement changed to follow orders from their boss, Roderich Edelstine. With dark brown hair that parted above his right eye and slicked back neatly, violet eyes masked by black-rimmed glasses, and a never-ending wardrobe of outdated suits making him look like he'd stepped off Mozart's stage, he gave off the aura of pure sophistication. Not even the mole under his left cheek or long, slightly curled cowlick at his hairline could destroy the image. As an Austrian with a passion for music who owned the top recording company in LA, perhaps the entire United States, he fit his profession perfectly and now lived the American dream. Toris envied him for it.

Once the room grew silent, Edelstine began, his speech tinted with a hint of a German accent. "Now, I'm sure you all have realized that our biggest sales boom has been none other than Arthur Kirkland here," he waved a hand to the man still sipping his tea to his left, remaining uninterested in their meeting. Roderich ignored the rude behavior and continued, "But I believe we can do better. As I'm sure you all are aware, we have plans for another tour next month, and we need as much hype as possible. No ticket shall remain unsold or unused, no door left unclogged by raving fans, and no security guard left loitering in the break room."

They all understood, unaffected by the Austrian's crazy demands. To them, it was more than plausible. It had happened before, and they knew it would happen again. There is no denying Arthur Kirkland would attract more than enough people to keep everyone attentive.

"However, during this tour Kirkland will be unveiling his new hit."

Gasps resounded throughout the room.

"I want this hit to be a main point in his legacy. If we reach an even higher turnout than before, we could finally branch this company out, maybe hire more artists. I might be willing to raise your wages," he tempted, almost smiling (a rarity!) at the evilness, completely aware his prudish ways irritated his employees and the promise of higher income would only heighten their determination, increasing production. Sure enough, the room grew noisy with excited murmurs and hushed glee.

Toris remained quiet, knowing well their higher pay would only come from stressing work, rivaling previous tantrums. He saw no need to celebrate just yet.

After the excitement wore off, Edelstine waved a hand across the room; a signal for silence. "Now, Mr. Kirkland is going to give you all a sample. I want all of you to use this time to take notes, indulge yourselves in the sound of the music so you can make your involvement in this project perfection."

More silent gasps. Even Toris never expected to get a private performance from the famous singer. He'd met the man before, but hearing him sing in person would be a new treat. He couldn't deny he was excited.

Acting on his cue, Arthur stood up from his chair after settling his tea on a coaster. He silently thanked the Austrian, who stepped back to give him room at the front of the table. "Thank you for having me," he began, addressing everyone whose attention now fixed on him. "I'm afraid the song still needs work, but I hope you enjoy what I have so far." He smiled serenely, making every female (were those males as well?) in the room swoon and blush. With grace that rivaled Roderich's sophistication, Arthur straightened his posture and motioned a slender finger towards the man, who stood by a stereo system. The Austrian pressed the play button, and a soft melody of woodwinds and steady drum beats flowed from the speakers. Arthur took a small breath, mimicked by those around the table anticipating his song, then began.

Immediately, there seemed to be a cold chill in the room. To Toris, his seat felt icy and stuck to his bottom, his body unable to move because of his frozen joints. He could see his coworkers transfixed by the man singing in their presence, but all Toris could feel was the realization of something terrible.

Kirkland's voice was heavenly, every vibrato tied perfectly at intervals to multiple abrupt ending words. The sound could be described as the wind's melody, sometimes powerful and others calm, very soothing to the ears. But while there was no denying Arthur's talented singing skill, all Toris could hear were words he'd heard before; words that melted his heart when originally heard, but only brought forth chilled numbness now. He could tell they were altered, but the message remained the same.

Arthur Kirkland was singing the song he'd caught Alfred practicing.

The realization kept him frigid in his seat, unable to feel anything but inner panic and confusion. This song, while lovely, did not connect to him like Alfred's did. It may have been similar words, but the alternations done had dwindled their magic. Was he biased because it was not the original? No, Toris did not think so. He could feel the lack of... something, within the song. Whatever had been changed removed a piece of the work as well, and it was incomplete. The song remained nice, but Toris could see it could be better. Why was it changed?

Is Alfred trying to convince me to ignore the similarities? Just because it's a little different doesn't mean I can't tell it's the same song! You shouldn't have changed it, Alfred.

Face frozen in a distant trance, Toris remained in his seat even after the performance finished and everyone left the room. He only regained his senses when Roderich shook his shoulder, asking if he was alright, and he realized the meeting was over.

"Yes, I'm fine," he answered flatly. The incredulous look his boss gave him told enough to know the man doubted his answer, but he did not voice it and left Toris to his melancholy.

He needed to know the answers to his questions. Was Alfred getting paid to make songs? What was his relationship with Arthur Kirkland? Why is it a secret? What if he stole the song and planned to release it himself? No, Alfred's version was better. If I had to guess, it would be the other way around.

He would ask again; Only this time, Toris would not accept refusal.

He had a certain blonde to track down.

The universe must have finally turned to his favor, because as soon as he left the meeting room Toris caught sight of a familiar blonde head. Without wasting a second, he rushed to the receding back, the gap between them thinning with every step. Alfred must have heard him following because he turned to look behind him, his eyes widening comically behind his glasses, and started off in a run down the hall.

Oh no, you don't. He may not be as athletic as Alfred looked, but he did get involved in a little roughhousing in his younger years. Toris had kept his body physically fit as a habit of those times.

The chase began, Toris quickly following the panicking teen as he turned corner after corner, drawing curious eyes from coworkers along with disapproving ones from security guards. Toris ignored all, his eyes trained on the retreating form. Eventually, Toris could see Alfred's head turning in various directions, searching for something; he understood what this meant. Now was his chance!

Alfred made an abrupt turn left, reaching for the doorknob on a nearby door. Toris sped up, practically sprinting now and leaning his body forward, hoping with all his might that he'd succeed in preventing the blonde from closing the door completely.

Just as Alfred rushed inside and turned to close the door, Toris leaped his foot into the doorway and yelped. Alfred froze, eyes turning from nervous to concerned in a matter of milliseconds. His hold on the door refused to give, though, so Toris decided to give all he had.

With watering eyes, he looked up to the distressed blonde. "Alfred, you hurt me!"

The reaction was instantaneous. "I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, I swear! Are you okay Toris? I'm so sorry I just -," Toris took the chance and pushed his way inside, quickly closing and locking the door, much to the shock of Alfred. He blocked the only escape with his body, determination deep in his green eyes as he looked at his prisoner, huffing lightly from the excursion their chase caused.

Alfred quickly recovered, face red in a mix of embarrassment and anger. "You tricked me, no fair!"

"You've been avoiding me!" Toris countered.

Alfred stopped. "I - no I wasn't!" His blue orbs trailed the room, avoiding Toris' intense gaze. "I just always have something to do and can't talk."

"Alfred, stop lying. You're really bad at it."

Alfred remained quiet. This only increased Toris' curiosity. The blonde usually ran his mouth a mile a minute, only stopping to breathe, drink, or take a bite of food, so the fact that he didn't speak clearly showed the importance of his secret. Slowly, Toris eased his way towards the silent man, careful to keep his body guarding to the door. "Alfred, I was in a meeting today. Arthur Kirkland was there," he said, his voice low to calm the obviously nervous man before him.

Alfred flinched. Toris continued. "He sang a beautiful song. One that was very familiar to me, as I'm sure it is to you."

"That has nothing to do with me, Toris."

"Yes it does!" Surprised by the outburst, both men glared, silently analyzing one another in the room, ignorant to the office noises outside.

Toris sighed and ran a hand through his brown hair, finally lifting his eyes to look at his friend. "Alfred, I like our friendship. You are a dear friend of mine that I don't want to lose. If you want me to keep quiet I will. I already have for two weeks! But I don't want you ignoring me because I accidentally found you singing a song meant to be Arthur Kirkland's newest hit. I know it's probably none of my business, but I'm involved now. I just want the truth, since you're obviously hiding something."

Silence enveloped them once again, Toris staring at Alfred, awaiting his answer while the blonde looked torn between his decision. The Lithuanian almost thought his efforts would be in vain, until Alfred roughly exhaled, looking defeated and slumping down on a nearby sofa. Toris took a moment to realize they'd stepped into someone's office - hopefully they were out to lunch and would not return for some time.

Alfred eyed him warily. "You promise you won't tell anyone?"

Eagerly, the brunette nodded, settling down next to Alfred on the couch. The teen simply narrowed his eyes, making Toris nervous about his answer.

"I mean it Toris. You can't tell anyone about this. It would ruin a lot of work Arthur and I have done for the past two years." Arthur was involved? Well, Toris supposed he should have guessed. At least now he could cross stealing the song off his list of theories.

When Toris nodded once more, Alfred took a small breath. What he was about to do would betray the one person who'd stuck with him for years. He knew he could trust Toris, though, and couldn't ignore the relief slowly easing off his shoulders at finally letting the big secret out.

"Well... I guess you could kinda piece together everything from what you heard. I wrote that song for Arthur. I've been writing his songs for a while, actually."

"Really?"

Alfred rubbed the back of his neck. "Heh, yeah. A year before his debut, actually, so it's been a while."

To say Toris was in awe would be an understatement. He couldn't believe all of those wonderful words came from someone who did not even look like he even read books without pictures. Alfred was a mix between a stereotypical jock and nerd. He read comic books, fan-boy'd over superheroes, loved science, and was a big fan of sports. He was the perfect American, right down to his patriotic nature stemming from his convenient 4th of July birth date. Picturing the blonde leaning over written poetry, meticulously checking for errors and adding new lines was just not something anyone could really believe.

Yet Toris had witnessed that very situation and just received confirmation of its reality.

He grinned, ecstatic at learning his friend's wonderful truth. "Alfred, that's amazing! I had no idea you had so much talent in writing poetry. And your singing is beautiful too!" In his excitement, Toris failed to notice Alfred's darkening features. "I mean, you could debut by yourself and become an instant hit!"

"No."

"Wha -," the dark look Alfred gave him made Toris shiver with fear. "W-what do you mean, 'no'?"

"I mean, 'no'. I can't betray Arthur like that. He'd kill me if he knew I'd told anyone."

Hearing the famous singer's name brought back something Toris had been wanting to ask. His brows knitted, he asked, "Alfred, what is your relationship with Mr. Kirkland?"

Alfred hesitated before answering. "He...he's my best friend." Toris' eyes widened at the unbelievable statement. "We've known each other since we were kids. I guess you could say he was kind of like a big brother to me. We kind of broke apart for a while, but rekindled during high school. Once he graduated, he began his music career and I started writing lyrics for him in my spare time to help with his hectic schedule. After I graduated three or so years later we began this partnership thing. I write; he performs."

"Why doesn't he write his own songs? Is he no good?"

"He doesn't have the time. Even singing in random clubs, he was popular. He got booked so much he couldn't find the time to make up the songs. I'd been working with an English tutor to fix my bad writing skills and decided to help him out as practice. It became a thing for us after a while."

Something did not sit right with Toris. Their partnership seemed reasonable enough, but why keep it a secret? Moreover... "Why don't you perform?" Toris couldn't stop the words before they'd already left, but he wanted to know why the blonde didn't take his obvious talent further. If he and Kirkland had become a duo, their popularity would have surely reached unheard of proportions. The roaring fans would outweigh any other ever in existence.

He almost regretted asking after seeing Alfred grimace. "Dude, are you kidding? My singing is terrible! Arthur and a bunch of people have said so. I'm not even allowed to sing in the shower if they're nearby it's so bad."

"Alfred, what I heard in that recording studio was far from terrible! You are an amazing singer. Are you shy? Is that why you chose not to become a performer?"

"What? Pfff, Alfred F. Jones is not shy. Look Toris, I appreciate the confidence boost on my lyrics, but you can't convince me that my singing won't make your ears bleed. That's why Arthur and I are partners. I can't sing or look good, but he can. He has the whole British thing going on and can get much more fans than I ever could. I don't think I'm really cut out for being on stage."

Did Toris hear all of that correctly? Alfred had a completely different view of himself than everyone else did. To others, it was easy to picture the sunny blonde waving to fans, running around the stage, happily dancing and singing to a crown of admirers. If the man wasn't shy, then how could he not picture the same?

More importantly: who convinced Alfred his singing made ears bleed? He mentioned Arthur and others, but what kind of friend would convince him of something clearly untrue?

At this point he was trailing fragile grounds, and decided to move on to his next question rather than push Alfred more. "If I may ask, why are you keeping this a secret? It should be simple to have the studio give you credit for the lyrics than say Kirkland wrote them."

"Well...the studio doesn't know I write them." Just then, Toris' expression resembled a suffocating fish. "It would kinda be pointless to do now, you know? Some of Arthur's fans might think it's a huge betrayal of trust and not like him anymore. Not to mention how the media will take it. I can already see "The Marauder is a FRAUD!" all over the news." He flailed his arms to demonstrate the chaotic scene.

"But Alfred, don't you want recognition?

"I... sometimes I do, but I don't think it's worth the risk. I'm fine helping Arthur. Seeing his success lets me know my writing is good. That's enough for me."

Toris wanted to yell at the blonde. Here he was, far from home and working a desk job because his friend couldn't make it as a model and he was just an average Joe, yet Alfred - talent rolling off his shoulders like the rich waters of Niagara Falls - was unwilling to accept his gift, instead opting to give it away to someone clearly playing him like a fool, taking all the credit for himself. Would Arthur Kirkland be as popular without Alfred's magical words? Toris desperately wanted to test his thoughts.

Arthur must have seen Alfred as a threat of some sort to his musical career - that had to be it. It would be the only reason the American felt so low about himself. The unfairness of it all enraged Toris. As meek as he was, he was also a very determined man when needed. He refused to allow Alfred to shrug off the situation. Unlike himself, the American had every tool at his disposal to fulfill his dreams - all he needed was perseverance to reach them.

Feeling very unlike himself, Toris leaned close to the blonde, noses almost touching and causing the confused (and slightly afraid, seeing those blazing green eyes) teen to bend backwards on the cushion. "Wh-what are you doing?"

"Alfred, have you ever considered debuting yourself?"

"Huh?"

"You know, starting your own career."

Alfred was aghast. "D-didn't you hear anything I said? No way can I do that to Arthur!"

"Forget about Arthur! I'm talking about you."

Puzzled, Alfred stared at Toris quizzically. "Toris, I think you're forgetting that I can't sing."

"Bullshit."

The bespectacled blonde could barely contain his shock at hearing his usually quiet coworker actually curse. Was Hell coming down today to reap their souls?

Toris, however, was completely serious in his suggestion. "Alfred, you can sing. I think you have a lot of talent that Mr. Kirkland is claiming for himself, and it is unfair for you to sit back and let him take the credit from you."

"Toris, I really don't mind... "

"But you said you thought about getting recognition, did you not?"

The American slowly nodded.

Toris smiled. "I believe you can do it then. You don't need to mention your work for Mr. Kirkland, or even your relationship with him. You could start your own separate career by yourself."

Alfred seemed to contemplate the idea, intrigued yet unsure of the consequences if he stepped out into the lights of stardom. But he had words, fancy language created from blending vocabulary and sound; nothing more. Why did Toris insist on his singing ability? "I...Toris, I don't know. I mean, I did want to go into music a couple years before, but I can't sing. I know you think my singing is good, I did too at one point, but that may just be the lyrics messing with your brain. I've sung in front of a crowd before and it wasn't pretty."

Scrunching his nose, the brunette almost wanted to slap him. He could sing! Why couldn't he see that? Unwilling to accept defeat, he persevered. "Alfred, if I prove to you you can sing, will you give having a career for yourself a chance?" Perhaps if the blonde heard people cheer him on for his amazing voice, he'd be willing to try and make a life of his own. One that would not be tied to a certain British musical sensation. Alfred deserved that.

"I- I guess..."

Those words were all Toris needed. He nodded and stood from his position on the couch, heading towards the door. "Alright, then meet me in the parking lot after work." He left the room, unwilling to allow the surely flabbergasted blonde to protest. Toris was certain the man's sincerity wouldn't let him miss their meeting if he didn't give a chance to fight back. For now, he needed to track down a certain Polish friend.

His stomach twirled and did various somersaults at his excitement. He had a mission now - a small piece of irregularity in his normally dull existence. And for once, he relished it.

Alfred had a chance - no, a certainty of success in this business. Toris fully intended to give his friend the limelight that rightfully belonged to him, even if it meant plotting behind their company's biggest money-makers.

A/N: I would write lyrics...but i can't write lyrics. Plus, music is very subjective as people have varying tastes around the world. The best i can say is to imagine the best music ever in your opinion.

Thank you for that really long review, Kyh! It helps to gain insight from the readers. And yes, I scare people with how fast I type, but that's only if I have exactly what I want to write already in my mind. The last chapter was already planned in my head so all i had to do was write it. This one, however, i needed time to think for.

Just to inform you all: I am an America/Liet supporter (pretty unbiased with majority of pairings), but i'm not too keen on including romance for the sake of smexy fan fodder. I will go ahead and make this AmeLiet, but their romance won't be the focal point of this story. I will have fun with it though. ;D

All of your other questions will be answered. To the one about Belarus: Originally, the story's summary said something along the lines of "Toris and friends embark on a mission to convince Alfred he has talent blah blah blah." Emphasis on 'Friends', so I plan to include her, yes. At first, my intentions were to put more characters in the story settings, but the site was being really stupid and kept putting England first so I was like No. Stahp. He doesn't belong there. Stardust Fighters will be updated next.