Chapter Three: Reeducation
Arthur suspected that this was quite possibly the worst hangover in the history of time. Why again had he thought that going out the night before he had to work a double shift was a good idea? Last night was now nothing but a vague blur, and, to top it all off, he'd had this absolutely insane dream about Francis and some sort of… waiter outfit. Ugh.
On the plus side, business was looking to be just as dead as yesterday. Almost too dead, in fact. Arthur was getting a bit antsy just sitting there with nothing to concentrate on but his headache. He turned to Elizabeta, who was sitting beside him, thoroughly engaged in some sort of Japanese comic book:
"I think I'll go get some stocking done, Liz. Shout if you need me?"
"Mmhm" The Hungarian girl nodded her consent without lifting her eyes off the page – what exactly about that little comic was so captivating, Arthur couldn't begin to guess.
Stretching, rubbing absently at the rather significant bruise on his upper arm (an unfortunate repercussion of the fight two nights prior), he went to the far side of the store and commenced putting away the new shipment they'd received that morning, but quickly got bored and decided to dust instead. Well, if he didn't, no one else would!
Fetching a feather duster and an apron so as not to dirty his clothes, Arthur got to work. He heard the tinkling of the bell signaling a customer's presence behind him, but he paid no mind. Liz would handle them, whoever they were…
Within minutes, Arthur managed to immerse himself into his self-prescribed chore. Blimey, he hadn't realized just how dusty a record shop could get! He worked himself into the back corner, climbing up on the counter to reach the cobwebs that clung to the ceiling. He was straining his reach, trying to get at a particularly stubborn one when suddenly:
"AH-HA! There you are!"
"WHAAH!" Arthur was so startled he nearly fell off the counter, and was forced to grab the cd rack below him for balance. But even in his surprised state, he'd kept enough wits about him to realize how very familiar that voice sounded. He was almost afraid to look.
But he did. And, sure enough, there he was: that Indiana Jones git from before. Only this time he was dressed in more normal attire: a maroon BC sweatshirt, jeans, and a brown leather bomber jacket which appeared vintage and very well-worn. Arthur was once again struck with the absurd notion that the outfit suited the boy to a tee – as if Arthur had any way of knowing that.
"Jeez Iggs, I was looking all over the store for you! Dude, are you seriously dusting?-"
"What in the bloody hell are you doing back here?" Arthur demanded as he carefully lowered himself back onto the floor. "... And stop calling me that infernal nickname!" he added as soon as the concerning detail registered.
"Hahaha! Sweet apron!" the boy laughed, completely ignoring him. "Hey, I think my grandma has one like that!-"
"Answer the question, git." Arthur snarled, trying exceptionally hard not to lose his temper. The brat paid no mind to his frustration, cocked a playful eyebrow instead:
"Oh, come on! You don't remember?" he asked.
"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about" Arthur returned icily. And truthfully, he was struggling to remember the events of the day prior. That's it, he thought. I'm swearing off rum for bloody good this time.
The boy rolled his eyes in mock-exasperation. "You didn't think I would know how to appreciate your so-called "real music", remember?" he explained obnoxiously, finger-quotes and all. "…Well, I'm here to prove myself. So lay it on me, Artie!"
"It's Arthur," Arthur corrected through his teeth. "And I haven't got time for your stupidity right now. I happen to be extremely busy-"
"Not too busy to dust though," the git grumbled, pouting.
"I'll have you know that dusting is a very important and highly overlooked chore, and what's more- "
"Oh, c'mon Iggy-"
"ARTHUR!"
"Whatever," the boy returned, shrugging off Arthur's mounting frustration. "You and I both know that's just a load of bull. You're just making up excuses because you don't want to get proved wrong by a college kid like me…" the pout was back on the boy's face, and God be damned if it wasn't working on Arthur just the slightest bit.
"It's "be proven" not "get proved", git! How did you even get into university with grammar that atrocious?" Arthur threw back scathingly as a last resort to get rid of the boy, but there was no defense against that bloody unyielding pout.
" …Arrgh! Fine! Have it your way, prat!" Arthur finally conceded, throwing his hands up in the air. Grumbling, he removed his apron and directed the annoying American over to a combination record/cd player on the other side of the store, which was available for guests to preview their purchases.
"Here," Arthur growled, shoving a beat up pair of headphones into the git's arms. "I'll show you what quality music is…" he muttered, fishing through albums in pursuit of one that would suit his needs. In actuality, Arthur had no intention of showing the boy (Alfred, he remembered suddenly) any of his own music. He remained firmly convinced that this was all an obnoxious ploy to test his nerves, and he refused to play into it. Or rather, he would play into it his own way, and prove to Alfred (and himself) that the boy was, in fact, completely tasteless when it came to music.
At last, he settled on one: an over-the-top cheezrock cover band. Truly horrid. Arthur fed the disk into the machine and pressed the play button, fully expecting a "hell yeah!" or some other abhorrent sign of esteem from the git. Instead, as the first track continued to play out, Arthur watched a dark cloud pass over the boy's face. He furrowed his eyebrows in an expression more contemplative than Arthur would have ever given him credit for. Arthur waited, looking for any indication of approval or disapproval, but the brat's reaction continued to remain determinedly ambiguous.
Finally, Arthur's impatience won out, and he slammed the stop button with a bit more force than he intended. "So?" he asked as the git pulled off the headphones. "What did you think?"
The boy seemed reluctant to answer, scratching the back of his head as though stalling for time. "No offense, Iggy…" he began finally "…but, uhhh… that kinda sucked. You really listen to that?"
"Of course not, tosser!" Arthur snapped, offended, and ripped the cd from the player. "I only played that album to prove that you'd enjoy any sort of rubbish as long as it had a bloody guitar solo!" he said, stuffing the disk back into its case.
"Well, I guess your plan failed then, huh?" the boy replied, the devious glint in his eyes returning full force.
"Apparently," Arthur growled, narrowing his own eyes in return.
"Well, don't leave me hanging, dude! Make with the goods!" the boy commanded, leaning back casually against the cd racks. Arthur tensed, fighting hard to hold back his building rage.
"Oh, right away Your Excellency!" he all but spat. So the brat wanted to play hardball, eh? Well, that last one was too easy anyway. Best go with something more subtle…
Once more, he sifted through stacks of albums, finally coming upon something suitable. A band obscure enough to be discreet, with songs that were catchy, but with no real talent or potency backing them up. All in all, the perfect trap.
"Here you go, then" Arthur said, trying to sound as convincing as possible. The boy grinned, donned his headphones for a second time, and began bopping his head as the first track began. Arthur smirked in triumph, certain that he'd won this maddening battle for good this time, but then the boy stopped nodding to the beat. His smile faded and was slowly replaced by an expression of surmounting boredom.
"What is it? What's wrong?" Arthur demanded, slamming the stop button once more. The boy frowned sheepishly as he removed his headphones: "I dunno. I mean it was okay… I guess I was just expecting something a little more substantial, you know?"
Arthur blinked, thrown off by the boy's surprising perceptiveness. "...Erm, well, to be quite honest," he mumbled, blushing despite himself, "that wasn't really something I listen to either. I was just trying to prove my point, you see."
The boy's eyes flashed with anger and hurt. "…Oh, I get it. You were tricking me again" he said quietly, his voice laced with dejection.
"Well..." he continued, adopting an air of bitter, forced nonchalance. "...Can't really prove myself if I'm not even given a chance. Guess I'll see you around, Iggy." He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jackets and turned away, heading back toward the front of the store.
Arthur felt the weight of guilt crash over him; he wasn't sure exactly what had happened to shift the tone of their interaction so drastically, but the hurt in the boy's eyes was genuine, and pierced Arthur in a way he hadn't thought possible.
"Wait!" Arthur called, desperate to redeem himself, scrambling to find an album he actually did enjoy.
"…Erm…here." he said at last, holding the chosen album (by one of his most favorite bands) out for Alfred to see. "I'm not tricking you this time, honestly!" he added as the boy shot him a suspicious glare. Arthur waited, furious with himself for how guilty he felt, as the boy made up his mind.
Finally, Alfred made his way back to Arthur. He shot another glance at the album before returning his gaze to Arthur. "You promise?" he asked, wariness still lingering in his expression. Arthur nodded, cheeks burning with shame and humility, thoroughly baffled by this strange power the boy seemed to have over him.
"Okay" the boy agreed at last, and took back the headphones. With slightly shaky hands, Arthur placed the disk in its slot and hit 'play'. He watched apprehensively for Alfred's reaction, wondering why the boy's opinion suddenly mattered so much to him.
After they were about halfway into the second track, the boy's distrustful frown melted quite suddenly into an easy smile. "Hey now, this isn't half-bad!" he remarked, giving Arthur a cheerful thumbs up.
Arthur blinked, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding:
"You mean… you like it?" he asked, feeling a bit deflated.
"Yeah, I really do, actually!" the boy said, sounding a bit surprised himself. "It's like really complex and layered, but also sort of, I dunno… gritty."
"Yes, yes" agreed Arthur, a bit breathlessly. "That's it exactly."
"Oh man, I am so digging this sweet bluesy riff that is happening right now," Alfred remarked excitedly as the next track began to play.
"Is that so?" Arthur replied, smiling even though he'd apparently lost the challenge. "You'd probably like their third album then. Lovely heavy sound to that one. Here, just let me find it…"
…"Wow. Sweet Holy Moses that was intense! Man that second to last song gave me shivers-"
"I know, right? Damn fine climax, and I'll be buggered if that last track isn't a right perfect afterglow-"
"And like, the whole flippin' story with the girl and those robots? I mean how did the singer guy even come with that?"
"Heh, in no way that's legal, I'm sure"…
Leaned up against the record player, arms wrapped around his knees, Arthur was overcome with a remarkable feeling of contentedness. Though he was reluctant to admit it, he had completely misjudged Alfred's ability to appreciate and analyze good music. It seemed the boy could be quite observant when he wanted to be, pointing out subtleties that even Arthur hadn't noticed before. In all honesty, it felt wonderfully refreshing; being able to share and discuss his music with someone who seemed just as genuinely passionate as he himself was, especially considering how protective he usually was with personal affairs and interests. He had to be, what with the club and everything. What with Ivan…
"Ahhh," Alfred sighed as Arthur shook himself back to reality. "Soooo. much. awesome." The boy curled himself down lower and leaned his head back, eyes closed, dreamy grin of satisfaction playing across his face. Arthur looked on quietly, which the boy must've sensed because not a second later his eyes opened once more. He looked up, meeting Arthur's gaze:
"Hey, we've been here for a while, huh?" the boy remarked rather groggily, as though waking up from a dream.
"Mm," Arthur agreed, feeling a bit flustered, and checked the time on his cell phone. He wasn't sure just how exactly it had happened, but somehow he and Alfred had wound up sitting in the back of the store listening to album after album for three straight hours. And yet, he admitted to himself, he didn't really want to stop…
"...er, why, do you have to be somewhere?" he asked reluctantly.
"Well, not really," the boy grinned. "but aren't you, um, working or something?"
"Bah, Liz would've found me by now if she needed my help," Arthur returned easily. "Besides, this is more important. A reeducation of sorts."
"I still like Journey, you know," the boy replied with a playful smirk.
"Oh?" Arthur asked, raising his eyebrows, "Well then I guess we've got some more work to do" He reached over to retrieve another cd from the shelf above, but his sleeve caught on the corner and was dragged up to his shoulder as a result.
"Whoa, Artie!" Alfred exclaimed when he saw the bruise that the sleeve had been covering. "What happened to your arm?" The concern in the boy's voice was enough to make Arthur blush all over again.
"It's nothing," he insisted "Must've bumped it moving some boxes around." He tried to tug the sleeve back down to its proper place, but Alfred stopped him, grabbing his arm in order to examine the bruise more thoroughly:
"That's one hell of a bump" the boy said softly, grazing gently over the bruise with his thumb. Arthur tried desperately to initiate a typical reaction of fury, but the icy hot shiver that went coursing suddenly down his spine left him a bit speechless...
There was a beat of silence before Alfred realized what he was doing "…Oh! Sorry!" he exclaimed, releasing Arthur's arm abruptly, cheeks flushing a bright red. Arthur could feel heat behind his own cheeks as well; he felt a bit shaky and unnerved, wanting and yet dreading to look into the boy's blue eyes…
"Yeah, so… I do kind of have to get going actually" Alfred said at last, looking determinedly at the ground. "Got a big chem exam to study for…" The boy finally looked up, and Arthur was relieved to find that he could meet the boy's gaze without further anxiety.
"Y-yes, of course" he mumbled, staggering up to his feet as Alfred did the same.
"Hey… so ummm-" the boy started after another awkward pause. "…this was pretty awesome. I feel like my mind exploded at least three or four times."
"Hahaha… Right," Arthur returned. Christ! Why couldn't he manage to reply with words that contained more than one bloody syllable?
"Hey! I just thought of something!" Alfred said as he pulled his bomber jacket back on. "I have to do this article for the school newspaper for one of my classes, and I was just thinking – it'd be really cool to do a music review or something, and well, since you like, know all about it an' stuff…well, maybe you could help me with it? Expert opinion and all?"
"Well, I'm not sure I'd say "expert", but… yes, I suppose I could do that…" Arthur replied, concentrating very hard on keeping his voice steady.
"Really? Sick!" the boy exclaimed, pumping a fist in the air. "Oh man I am so pumped! Will you be here tomorrow?"
"I'll be here till four" Arthur replied, unable to keep a small smile from his face.
"Kickin'! Well, I'll see you tomorrow then, okay Iggs?" Alfred smirked slyly, and turned to leave. Arthur felt his happiness morph quite abruptly into annoyance.
"For the last bloody time, my name is Arthur!" he growled, but the boy paid no heed, and was out the door before Arthur could say anything more on the subject.
"ARRGH!" Irritated, but also feeling sort of lightheaded, Arthur paused for a moment, mulling in his own thoughts. But he was pulled out of them abruptly when a high-pitched, squee sort of sound echoed from behind the nearest cd shelf.
Peering over the rows of cds, Arthur was met with a rather peculiar sight: his co-worker Elizabeta, crouched down, frantically stuffing what appeared to be a digital camera behind her back…
"Liz? Um, don't mind my asking, but what are doing down ther-"
"Oh! Hello Arthur!" the Hungarian girl interrupted loudly, a bit crazy-eyed. "Nothing! I fell! I mean… I was doing inventory! Making sure nobody's stealing, you know!"
"Erm, I didn't know we did inventory... Is that a camera you hav-"
"What? Arthur, don't be silly! Why ever would I have a camera down here? I'm doing inventory, that's all! I mean, just what kind of girl do you think I am? Honestly, I'm a bit offended!"
And with that, she rose, and, still shuffling that mysterious object between her hands, made a hasty retreat to the back office, slamming the door behind her.
"That girl is right barmy," Arthur muttered to himself, and, thoroughly baffled, headed back toward the counter to wait out the rest of his shift.
~(o)~
A/N: Ohh, Elizabeta, you silly rotten girl! This chapter went through some pretty heavy edits, but I think I'm finally satisfied with it :)
UP NEXT: Arthur's life catches up with him a bit... (Also: a certain Frenchman makes a reappearance!) Stay tuned!