Hehe, USUK :) Enjoiii~~~

Crash! Thump. A low groan.

"Gil! The hell…" Arthur heard Antonio's muffled exclamations from below, and rushed out from his office. The front door of the office fed out onto a small balcony, which was elevated by a spiral staircase that connected with the ground floor. Arthur, leaning over the railings, found the silver-haired man collapsed on the ground with a bottle of whiskey in his hand. The sleek, black bar stool was collapsed on its side a short length away, where it rested after Antonio shoved it away with his foot. Apparently, Gilbert had toppled over in his drunken state.

Arthur heaved a great sigh and checked his watch. It was almost 2:00 in the morning. He would have shooed everyone out by now, but he hadn't the heart to force Gil out before he passed out. It had been like this for about three weeks now, and getting worse ever y day. Gilbert used to never touch a drop of alcohol after work. He always came in early, so he would get a glass or two in beforehand, but never afterwards. He was always the one to drive Antonio and Francis (when Francis was not with a girl) home. Until now.

"Is he okay?" Arthur asked from above, rather perturbed.

"Si…I think so," was Antonio's hesitant reply. "Well, I won't say he's okay in general. He's been skipping lab time almost every other day, you know."

"What?"

Gilbert may seem like the loose kind of fellow, but he was serious about his studies. Arthur had never met someone so passionate about nuclear fission in his life. The fact that he was skipping half his lab time was definitely indicative of his exceedingly unhealthy state of mind and body.

"I'm afraid so. He's been getting worse each day. And he refuses to eat anything," Antonio sighed. "He is so lucky Francis and I have spare time on our hands."

Arthur came down the staircase and stopped before his two friends, squinting at the fainted man on the floor. His skin was even whiter than his hair, and several shades more translucent. His clean-cut features appeared exhausted, even in his subconscious. Arthur cringed. It wasn't easy seeing Gilbert so wasted. Gilbert, who always had the brains and the looks to plunder through life with a certain kind of smooth flamboyance no one else could imitate.

"That's it. I'm talking to Liz tomorrow. This is going too far. His liver's going to fail by the end of the year." Arthur shook his head.

Antonio nodded in agreement. "I think that will be a good idea. But do you know what happened? All I heard from Gil is that she decided to hate him for some reason and wrote it on his car."

Arthur's thick eyes knitted together into a deep frown. "How can she just decide to hate him? I don't understand that. All he told me was that she destroyed his car for no reason. And then called him a…what word was it that they always use…Dummkopf?"

"Yeah, that too. But I'm sure something else happened," Antonio continued to ponder, "Do you remember what he was doing that night? Roderich came in waiting for that Swiss bloke…"

"Ah, yes. Basch. I talked with them for quite some time. He gave Roderich that cocktail with too much Everclear…"

"And then he went out with a girl just at the nick of time. I bet he thought it out all beforehand." Antonio shook his head deploringly.

"Knowing him, probably," Arthur agreed. "But what happened after that? With Liz, I mean. I remember she was asking around for him. She was angry about the cocktail prank. And then she went out to look for him in the back…"

Both of their mouths formed a little "o" shape as they were both struck with sudden realisation. So it was that. "Do you think she really…" Arthur began.

"Si," Antonio nodded, "That is the only explanation."

For some reason, Arthur felt a little glum at this new development. He had come to notice that Gilbert took especial care to make sure Elizabeta did not see him with a girl. Perhaps he was doing it subconsciously, but he would always disappear and then reappear at the right moment, acting perfectly normal so she would think nothing had happened. Or rather, she could overlook anything that did happen.

"Wait…Roderich is Elizabeta's ex-boyfriend, right?" Antonio asked out of the blue.

"Yes…" Arthur knew exactly where this was going

"Do you think that might have been the reason why he played that joke?"

"Do I think it might?" Sarcasm was always Arthur's way to cover up for any stray emotions he failed to keep under control. It worked beautifully. No, this is wrong. I can't still be this fragile. It's been a whole bloody year!

He glanced at his watch. It was almost 2:30 am. He groaned, then went to help Antonio lift Gilbert off the ground and carry him into the car. "Did we seriously just spend half an hour analysing the dynamics of Gil and Liz's relationship?"

"I guess so," Antonio shrugged nonchalantly.

"Sometimes I really hate you, mate. No offense or anything," Arthur said as they threw the drunkard into the backseat.

"What? Why?"

"Because you make me gayer than I already am."

"Oh…Why are you so sensitive about your sexuality anyway? I don't understand it."

"It's just…it's abnormal," Arthur muttered. It's inconvenient, too. Especially for me.

"Don't say that. There's nothing 'abnormal' about it. As far as I'm concerned, everybody else is abnormal compared to us," Antonio flashed him a light-hearted smile under the glow of the streetlights. Arthur wished he had the energy to smile like that. He wasn't sure that he ever had the energy to smile like that.

"Alright, then. Good night."

He watched as Antonio drove off, soon enveloped by night's embrace. Arthur turned to the pavement and sighed. He was dead tired. It was 2:30 in the morning. He crawled into his Audi and locked himself in the driver's seat. He didn't trust himself to drive all the way back to the apartment with his currently hazy state of mind, so he lowered down the car seat and reclined back into the comfortable leather, plugging in his earphones as he did so.

It was a curious feeling, drifting off to sleep. No matter how many times it happens, you still can't fully understand how it occurs. And that moment right before crossing over to slumber, there's always a thought that dances across one's mind. For Arthur Kirkland, as he laid in his car listening to soft rock with a thin jacket pulled over his shoulders, it was the vague notion that Alfred was not waiting outside the restaurant for him that night.

It was a cloudy day, a curtain of grey drawn over the wide, arcing expanse above the city of London. The mild breeze was cool against his cheeks as Arthur listlessly headed towards the library. After waking up with a severe backache in the car, he dragged himself home, ate some toast, and, plundered through a whole stack of paperwork, which left him with nothing else on his hands. Then, the problem became that he had no idea what to do with himself. Except for read. He was just in the right mood for rereading War and Peace.

Passing a store window, he stopped to gaze at the sleek black suits on display. Then, he realised that he was staring at the new Burberry line. Figures. He quickly shook his head. No. No more luxury brands. But…No! He tore himself away from the store window and hastened away. If it was like back then…No, no, no…don't think about it… He truly didn't know what he was doing anymore. If he thought too much about it, unpleasant memories would all begin to bubble up from the back of his head, so his solution was to ignore all of it.

He was about to cross the street towards the Business School building when he saw her. Standing on the pavement outside the school. The flow of students never got within three feet of her expensive Louis Vuitton dress. The thin, regal woman in her middle age perched aloof but dignified, her light strawberry-blonde hair twined into a complicated but taut hairstyle. Arthur would recognise her anywhere.

Bloody hell, what's she doing here?

He quickly ducked behind a row of parked cars on his side of the street and peered at her through the car windows. She was quite evidently looking for something. Or someone. Was she lost?

"Bloody hell..." Arthur mumbled under his breath. He had to get out of here. And fast.

"Hey...Arthur...why are you hiding?"

Arthur jumped a foot in the air, barely missing his head on the rear view mirror sticking out the side of the car, and swore. It was Alfred, appearing at exactly the wrong time. The young American was staring down at him with lively, curious eyes, a black, complex video camera around his neck and hands on his hips. Arthur couldn't stand the innocent expression on that charming face of his. Don't look at me like that…it should be made illegal…!

Arthur heaved an exasperated sigh. "Get down!" he growled, and pulled Alfred down with him by the sleeve.

"Hey...why are we doing this?" Alfred whispered, leaning unnecessarily close, his hot breath on Arthur's cheek.

"Don't sound so gleeful, you git. Just…you see her?"—he pointed to the figure across the street, who was still glancing around with a bored expression on her face—, "That woman across the street. We're trying to get away from her without being seen." When it did it become 'we' anyway? I need to stop getting myself mixed up in disadvantageous situations like this…

"Why?"

Arthur had known that question was coming.

"Because…Because, because, because…she will do bad things. Very bad things." It was an awful excuse. But he had always been a horrible liar. He would always get too edgy and start tripping over his words in irritation. It was ironic how the words that flowed out his tongue so melodiously always betrayed him at just the wrong moment.

Alfred frowned, a funny expression on his face. He was unsuccessfully trying to hold back his laughter. "I'm not in third grade, you know," he snorted. "But you are adorable, so I forgive you."

"Sh-shut up, you git! This is serious!" Arthur stammered, turning his head away so Alfred wouldn't see the scarlet shade heating up his face. He gave himself a mental slap for falling prey to sweet words too easily. This was Alfred. The bartender at his own specially-designed restaurant for hooking said 'prey.' He was falling for his own creation. This was too ironic it was cruel.

"So what's the real reason—"

"Shshshshsh!" Arthur cut him off. He squinted through the two layers of car window at the woman. A grey-haired man, in his late fifties and wearing a beige, old-fashioned suit, had approached her with a pleasant smile on his face. The two seemed actively engaged in a conversation, the woman with twinge of urgency in her countenance. Professor Briggs? What's he…oh, no…this can't be…He suddenly experienced the very real feeling of spiralling downwards that one always read about in novels. Except he was rudely pulled back out by Alfred's voice.

"Hey, they're gone, man. I think we're safe. Whatever that's supposed to mean." They were indeed gone, gone into the school building. Alfred stood up and stretched his legs. Only then did Arthur realise that it must've been quite difficult for the American to have bent down so low. He was maybe only half an inch taller than Arthur, but infinitely more muscular.

"So, where do you want to go?" Alfred flashed him a bright, sunny smile. Arthur blinked, forgetting that the sky was grey and cloudy.

"Don't you have classes?" Arthur asked after a pause in which he marvelled at Alfred's perfect teeth.

"Oh, morning classes. Worst professor ever," he laughed. "Come on, we'll take a walk. It's London, after all."

Morning classes, huh…It abruptly occurred to Arthur that the younger man probably didn't have much of a ball waking up each morning. And yet he insists on stalking me until a cab or my car every night…Arthur felt rather guilty for treating him so harshly before.

They sauntered along, loitering around street corners and red brick buildings as Alfred recorded this and that. Eventually, they found themselves meandering about in Kensington Gardens, stopping at the golden memorial of Prince Albert*, then at oddly-shaped trees that happened to be planted alongside the paved trail. Arthur had never paid so much attention to the shapes of trees before.

Meanwhile, Arthur discovered that Alfred, his stalker for something like a year now, was way more than the slick but sometimes-whiney guy that met the eye. He was that pure-minded type of boy that Arthur supposed only America could produce, with carefree laughter and the entire world before him to conquer. He loved Hollywood, perhaps to an unhealthy degree, but disliked French films because they were too slow, though he had little to argue against their artistic value. He was also good at sports, it seemed, one of his favourites being 'football*' (though Arthur disliked the term very much), and he enjoyed eight-hour long sessions of Call of Duty. He was the epitome of happy and normal. Everything Arthur was not.

"Books?" Arthur inquired tentatively.

"Uh…" was Alfred's response.

Arthur raised a golden eyebrow at the drop in his expression.

"I…don't get literature. I mean, I get it kind of, but…there's just easier ways to tell a story! Like that guy Dickens! His sentences run like a page long, man. What's up with that?"

"If you study film, you should really know your literature," Arthur scoffed. "And Dickensian writing is classic. Classic literature is classic for a reason."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But it's too long-winded…" he muttered. Arthur muffled a laugh.

"…You like action films, right?"

A resounding yes.

"Try something like The Count of Monte Cristo. That might be a little easier. It's about a man who wants to get revenge."

"...You've read a lot of books, haven't you, Arthur?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes. There used to be a huge library in…" Arthur stopped mid-sentence. Damn! I lost track of myself...to think I was about to say "there used to be a huge library in my house!" That sort of slip-up would be ridiculous!

"In?"

"In the…uh…neighbourhood." He cleared his throat.

"There was a library in your neighbourhood?"

"No! No, I mean there was a library close to the neighbourhood."

"…I see." But Arthur knew that Alfred was casting him doubtful sideways glances. Arthur berated himself for letting his guard down. He knew that attractive men were his weakness. Why did he have to walk right into a trap anyway?

They were silent for a while. Arthur pretended to watch the movement of bleak, greyish clouds in the sky. The weak sunlight leaked through the cracks slightly, but was soon concealed by another layer of clouds.

"Hey...Arthur? Who was that woman back there anyway..." Alfred finally asked. Arthur could tell that he had been waiting to ask this question the whole time.

Arthur gulped. He had no choice but to tell him. There was no point wasting his breath on petty lies he couldn't cover up for. Furthermore, he didn't know how to lie to Alfred. The American had one of those faces that you couldn't bring yourself to deceive, for fear of the look of betrayal he would wear if he ever found out the truth.

"My...my mother..."

"...Really?" he exclaimed. Some birds nearby took off in fright.

"No, actually she's my little sister. Yes! What would be the point of lying to you? You don't have to sound so surprised about everything, you know."

"No, it's just that...I didn't expect that at all! How young was she when she got married? Or were you born out of wedlock?" Alfred gave him a playful nudge.

"No! That's preposterous!" Shivers ran down Arthur's spine at the very idea. It disgusted him.

"Hey, chill, man. I'm just joking. You gotta relax, Arthur, or you'll get frown lines on that pretty face of yours," Alfred chuckled.

Arthur grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, then said, "It's funny you think she looks young. She always complains that she looks old...she's 50 in a week, by the way. But she tells everyone she's 45."

"Fifty? Are you serious? I thought she was at most 40..."

"Really? I always thought she was an old hag..."

Alfred frowned. "That's not something you say about your mother..."

"Yeah, well...dysfunctional family..." Arthur muttered. Why was he telling him all of this? It had nothing to do with him at all! He barely knew the bloke, let alone could trust him.

"I see. I can't say I can relate, then."

"...What's your family like?"

"Uh...normal? I don't know. Happy? I guess?" Alfred shrugged. He seemed like he had never thought about it before. The typical guy who took things for granted.
"I envy you," Arthur said, raising his head to the dreary sky. The air smelled like rain.

"...Got any siblings?" Alfred asked.

"...No. Just me. How about you?"

"One brother. Matthew. He's my younger twin but...he's nothing like me."

"Ha. Reminds me of the Vargas brothers. And the Beilschmidts. I thought brothers were supposed to be similar." Arthur knew little about brotherhood. And as of a few years ago, he really began wishing he did.

"Yes...and no. I mean...Mattie and I, we both like the same foods and the same sports and the last time I checked, we both champion peace and democracy. It's that kind of thing that remains the same when you grow up in the same family. But personality is whole other thing altogether. I mean, different people react to different environments differently. I guess that's one argument you can make. And plus, a lot of it is just something you're born with. Like Mattie's a quiet kind of guy, and I can't help that I'm such a big blab and annoy you all the time."

"You don't annoy me," Arthur blurted, then quickly added, "Not all of the time..."

Alfred didn't respond immediately, but simply gawked at him with a huge grin on his face. Arthur fidgeted a little uncomfortably and turned his head away. He felt stupid as his face began to heat up. "S-Stop it! What are you trying to do, huh? Stare a hole through my head?" he retorted with as much indignity as he could muster.

Suddenly, Alfred burst into laughter. Laughter that seemed to resound in all directions, sending flocks of birds flying into the sky. "Ahaha!" He abruptly seized the Briton tightly in his arms into a choking embrace.

"Hey! What're you doing! Let go, people will see!" Arthur struggled against him, but it was no use. It seemed as if whatever strength he exerted into pushing him away, it only rebounded back twofold. He sighed, and could only succumb to the hug. "Alright, alright...though I still don't see why you're so excited."

"No, it's just that...I'm so happy you don't hate me." Arthur's eyes widened at this innocent declaration. He...all of this...even though he thought I hated him the entire time...Slowly, he put a grudging arm around the larger man's waist. Arthur noted that Alfred's entire body was radiating enough heat to power an oven. I wonder if chemical reactions in his body occur at twice the speed of a normal human being or something...

"Jesus, you're just like a huge puppy," Arthur said, feigning a caustic tone. He was, in actuality, quite flustered at the moment.

Alfred pulled away, then leaned in close again, the tips of their noses almost touching. The colour of his eyes seemed to grow deep, like the water above an ocean trench, a bottomless crevasse in the crack of the sea floor. "I can be something else, too, you know," he whispered in a low and—there was no other word to describe it—seductive voice.

Arthur gulped. His throat felt dry as the Sahara. He stared dumbly, blinked, then took a big step back. "No! No, no, no!" He turned on his heel and stomped off in the opposite direction. No, no, no, no, no! I will not be seduced like some loves-struck maiden!

"Oh, come on! Artie! At least gimme something!" he heard the Alfred shout after him. The American caught his wrist and gave him a defeated smile. "Ok, ok. I'll stop. Just...c'mon." He pulled him along the paved path, a gentle grip on his wrist but never forceful. Alfred was always careful towards him. Perhaps not always gentle or particularly aware of his surroundings, but careful in an unexplainable way. It was different from what Arthur was used to, but he liked it.

"So, what can I get for you?" Alfred beamed.

"What do you recommend?" The smoky-eyed brunette leaned forward in her seat, eyeing him like she wanted to gobble him up. She had nice curves, but a little bit too much eye shadow. Alfred could tell that she was a few years older than him, the crafty type. The kind that liked to play with her men. He knew exactly how to deal with her. He poured two cocktails, each with a little Everclear, and slid it over the counter. "Try these."

She downed both of them relatively quickly.

"I'd say...you look like you really know how to drink, so why don't I make you a custom?" A custom cocktail, which allowed the bartenders to let their imagination run wild, was also the most expensive. The trick was to get her mildly woozy, then drain her wallet. Most customers like her only come once, so it was ok to do a 'hit-and-run,' as Gilbert called it.

"Why not?" she shrugged, with an alluring smile.

He smiled back, feigning oblivion. That's right, two can play at this game...

As he poured the contents, he peered over at Gilbert who was talking up three blondes a few seats away. Smooth, as usual. But were it not for the dim lighting, the dark circles under his eyes would show through. Gil hadn't been doing so well these past few weeks. God knew why. Alfred only knew that it probably had something to do with Elizabeta. Recently, Liz had only come over to the bar when she was sure Gil wasn't there. Every time, she would glare daggers at the girls as she chatted half-heartedly with Alfred. Who knew that the great Gilbert Beilschmidt would have such mundane girl troubles?

"Here you go." Alfred set the glass in front of her.

"Hey! Al! Over here!" a raven-haired girl called from two seats over. He slid over and flashed her a full-fledged grin. "Hello, there. You've been coming here quite often." He was sure that she'd tried to get him to sleep with her only a few days ago. What was her name again?

Gilbert brushed past behind him and whispered in his ear, "Penelope." Alfred gave him a thumbs-up behind his back in thanks, all the while never breaking eye contact with her.

"So, Penelope," he began. "How are you?"

His mind was never fully there when he talked to these girls. He was always thinking about Arthur. Always stealing upwards glances towards the balcony outside his office. Arthur was never there.

"Another one, please," the brunette called again from his left, laying down money on the table. Alfred waved, and made her another cocktail, setting it down in front of her.

"Hey, your name is Alfred, right?" she asked.

"Yes. And you?" he asked, raising one eyebrow. She was only slightly affected by the alcohol.

"Vanessa," she answered with a coy smile curled upon her dark lipstick. "You're American."

"Yeah. Came here for school."

"I heard Americans aren't half bad in bed. Especially with your looks, I'm assuming you have quite some experience."

"I won't brag," he laughed, "But I do have some experience." He was intrigued by her clever boldness.

"So, do you go to Imperial?"

"No. But a lot of the staff here do."

"I see..."

They carried on for some time, until she said she had something to do and left. Alfred didn't know what it was about her, but she seemed different from the girls who usually came here. She wasn't here to get drunk, that was obvious, and she had a meaningful sparkle in her dark eyes when she spoke. Though she dressed like a slut, her appearance was still very neat and tidy.

"Hey, who was that sexy woman you were talking to?" Gilbert strolled past with a sly smile on his lips.

"Vanessa." Alfred shrugged. "Doubt we'll ever see her again."

"Why didn't you shag her? I bet she'll give you a good time."

"Why would I?"

"Because she's hot."

"Gil, I think sometimes you take your playboy attitude a little too far."

"Relax. Don't get so worked up about something trivial like that. You'll turn into Eliza." He failed to conceal the resent that bubbled up beneath that easygoing smile at the thought of Elizabeta.

"Maybe there's a reason she hates you, you know," Alfred rolled his eyes. If you like her, then just say! What kind of an idiot just lets the problem sit? You'll just end up losing her!

To his mild surprise, Gil didn't say anything. Instead he finished pouring a glass of scotch and slid it to a girl down the counter. He patted Alfred on the back, muttering he'll be back in a few minutes.

"Hey! Where are you going, man?" Alfred shouted after him, nonplussed. Gil barely ever left his station at the bar.

"Kitchen! I'm getting Francis."

Getting Francis? Was he really that tired? Alfred was sure that in his one year here, he had never seen Gilbert go anywhere near the kitchen. He must really have been exhausted. Sure enough, a few moments later, he came back with the French man on his heel. All the girls around the bar turned their heads and began to whisper excitedly amongst themselves.

"Excuse me, ladies. Unfortunately, I cannot be with you the rest of our time, but do enjoy yourselves," Gilbert said with an enticing smile, then left the counter.

Everyone's attention was immediately directed towards Francis. He was only ever here for a few minutes every night, so it was a rare opportunity.

Alfred heaved a long sigh. That's a little weight off his shoulders for now. After walking away the entire afternoon with Arthur, he was too distracted to properly woo anybody. He kept thinking about him. The way his faultless features worked together so wondrously to wear that flustered embarrassment on his face. A subtle curl of the lip, or an inward movement of the head. Arthur was much less cold towards himself than Alfred had previously expected, and it felt as if he was so close to cracking that icy indifference.

"Hey, Al. What's Francis doing here?" Elizabeta came up to him with a slight frown.

"Uh...Oh, right," he was dragged out of his train of thought, "Gil had something to do or something. So Francis is filling in."

"Tch." Liz scowled at the scene before her disapprovingly. "I don't understand the three of you. It's obvious none of these girls actually care for you personally. If they can switch from one bloke to the next so easily just because they both have a nice face..." She shook her head in frustration.

Alfred pondered the subject for a short while, then said, "No, Liz. I think there actually are some sincere ones. You know...your, um, friend, Roderich..."

"Yeah? What about him?"

"His friend Basch, the Swiss guy. His little sister Lili is here a lot. I don't know if you've noticed her but...she's kind of little. Delicate looking? Short blonde hair, cute face? Kinda like a faerie in my opinion."

"Oh, her? She's Basch's sister? I never would've guessed. Basch is rather...hostile. I've always wondered why she was here. She really doesn't look like the type-"

"She's here for Gil, Liz," Alfred cut in, a sympathetic expression on his face.

"...W-What?"

"She's head over heels for him. No joke. I talked to her that night with the...uh, incident."

"...I see..." Liz seemed glum. Perhaps she had finally realised that it was in fact quite possible for Gilbert to be taken right under her nose. Whatever the case, Ludwig soon came over to shoo her back to her station.

By this time, Antonio and Feliciano had already come back in, which meant that Ludwig's job became twice as complicated. Both the Spaniard and the Italian were very liable to sit down with their customers and have a long, friendly conversation. Unfortunately, they didn't understand the articulate dexterity of flirting, thus failing to notice when someone was hinting at that kind of a relationship. Arthur had secretly instructed (secret to Antonio and Feliciano) Ludwig to keep their hands full, which gave Bella and Liz more opportunities to slack off a little from their jobs. As he expected, after about twenty minutes, Elizabeta made a clever swerve around the tables and headed back over, a tray full of empty plates and cups in her hand.

"I haven't seen her around recently. Lili, I mean," Liz said.

Alfred chuckled a little. "I told her that she could find somebody better than Gil. I hope that's why she stopped coming."

Elizabeta didn't say anything, but stared at the liquor-filled shelf behind Alfred's head with blank, empty green eyes. They were a different green than Arthur's, thought Alfred. They were strong, but not so picturesque or eloquent. It was amazing how much one could tell just by looking at someone's eyes. Their happiness, hatred, and everything in between. Their life was in their eyes.

"Personally, I don't understand him," Alfred continued, attempting to comfort her, "Gil's the type that's got everything. The looks, the brains, the money. His life's so perfect that I'm jealous. Why does he have to mess it up with all the alcohol and women?"

But to his surprise, her response was a clear and distinct, "No." Alfred fixed her with a sceptical gaze. "You're wrong. His father died when he was five. From a gas explosion. Accident with the stove."

"Oh...Sorry, I didn't know..."

"No, it's okay. Gil never talks about it anyway. As far as I know, he's only ever told the three idiots who roomed with him."

"Wow...you two go way back, don't you?"

"...Yeah...I moved to Berlin from Budapest when I was nine. We lived right across the street from the Beilschmidts. The boy with the white hair and red eyes..." She smiled a little sadly, "Everyone thought he was strange. I remember some superstitious old people used to claim he was a demon child. But he never cared. Just kept on pulling pranks. It wasn't until secondary school that people began to notice his extreme academic capacity. And of course the girls fell in love one by one. He and his brother were a cut above the rest. I remember being so envious of him." She laughed, then waved as she turned towards the kitchen carrying the tray. Alfred reckoned she probably just needed to vent a little. But looking at Gil, I never would've guessed...

For the remaining half hour, Alfred joined Francis's side and the two successfully advertised the most expensive drinks they offered. It was decided between the two that they were definitely asking Arthur for a bonus.

After they finally threw out every remaining bachelor and bachelorette, Alfred glimpsed Arthur talking with Elizabeta below the spiral stairs, the one place in the entire restaurant where the top of the balcony could not be seen. He snickered to himself, and carefully snuck up the staircase, being careful not to make any noise, and slipped inside Arthur's office.

He had never been in Arthur's office before. The room was bigger than he had imagined, consisting of two bookshelves on either side, packed tightly with thick volumes and some porcelain vases. The desk had a simple, modern design, with a glass surface and black, polished wood underneath. On top sat two neat stacks of paperwork and a laptop. There was also a cup of tea sitting on the desk, next to some pens and pencils. Alfred caught himself with a silly grin on his face as he examined the room. The smart, orderly style, somewhat old-fashioned but modern in certain aspects. The potted plants on his shelf, the abstract porcelain statue. All his little habits. Alfred laughed and sank into the swivelling leather, office chair, spinning around a few times just for the thrill. Then, he took a piece of blank computer paper from the printer and began to doodle.

"What in the name of- Alfred!" Alfred's head snapped up at Arthur's infuriated bellow. He glanced at his watch. Already 1:49? Everyone else must be gone by now.

"What do you think you're doing? Barging into my office! I could bloody fire you, you know that? I'm your boss!" The angry Briton stomped over and picked up a pen to throw at Alfred, who automatically dodged and scuttled to the other side of the room.

"Hey, chill! I didn't do anything, I swear! Didn't go through your files or anything!"

"...you insolent..."

"Arthur!" He was almost stabbed by a very sharp pencil. Arthur continued to force him into a corner with flying office projectiles as the he approached.

"...No respect whatsoever for privacy..."

"Arthur-"

"...incredibly rude..."

Seized by an impulsive notion, he pulled Arthur in by the tie and pressed their lips together. He soon lost all self-control and yanked him even closer, wrapping his hands around the other's trim waist. All he knew was that Arthur tasted faintly of tea.

When Arthur finally pushed him away, both were gasping for their breaths. "W-What was that for, you git?" Arthur spluttered, incensed. But he could not hide the fact that he was turning red from ear to ear.

Alfred grabbed his arms and spun him around, pushing him against the wall. "You underestimate me," he said in a low tone.

"What are you talking about? Let me go! Now!" But Arthur could not push him off no matter how hard he tried. Alfred was way too strong.

"I told you. I am in love with you. And yet you allow yourself to be so careless around me. Do you know how hard it is to control myself?" Perhaps it sounded more threatening than he had intended, but he didn't care as long as he was sure Arthur was gaping at him, looking completely infatuated.

The Briton stared at him speechlessly, with wide, green eyes. Alfred kissed him again, more fiercely this time, pressing their bodies together tightly as he stole his tongue inside Arthur's mouth.

Arthur broke the kiss, breathing hard. "Not here..." he mumbled, turning his head to the side. Alfred noticed that he always looked away when he was overwhelmed.

"Then where? Your pick," Alfred smiled, running his hand along Arthur's side.

"Hotel...and it better not be like last time!"

"What do you mean?"

"I couldn't walk straight for a whole bloody week!"

"Okay, okay..."

An electric guitar suddenly blasted in his ear. Alfred groaned groggily as he rolled over, rudely awakened from a very nice dream he was having. He checked his watch. It was nine o'clock in the morning.

"Sorry...! That's mine..." Arthur swiped his mobile off the bedside table. "Hello?" He cleared his throat a little.

Alfred didn't know who it was, but he was pissed. Whoever it was, he or she had horrible timing.

...

"Oh! Um, hey, Gil. You're awake." Gilbert, you royal asshole...

...

"Uh...sure. Give me ten minutes..." Oh, no...

...

"...You're welcome?" Arthur hung up.

As soon as he set the phone down, Arthur jumped out of bed and began to rummage around for clothes on the floor. He pulled on his jeans and T-shirt, slipped the phone into his pocket, ready to walk out the door. Alfred, who had been watching with building rage Arthur was apparently oblivious to, flared, "Hey, where are you going?"

"Out. Meeting Gil on campus."

"What do you mean, you're just going to walk out on me?"

"Can't you take yourself home? I don't have an obligation to take care of you, you know."

"That's not what I meant!"

"Then, dress yourself and walk home. Or call a cab. I'll cover hotel expenses." Arthur checked his pockets to make sure that keys and wallet were all there, then strode straight out the door, without so much as a glance backwards.

That wanker...that wanker! I can't believe we did it again! It's too dangerous! Ugh, this is horrible! I feel guilty for leaving him! He deserves it...he deserves it for forcing me...!

"Bloody...!" The reflection of himself in the rear view mirror almost gave him a heart attack. His neck was covered in purplish green bruises, and if he squinted very carefully, there were bruises seeping through his white shirt. ...Ugh...that git! I told him not to overdo it! He's like a territorial beast! Then, he shook his head violently to rid himself of the grossly incorrect thought that he was Alfred's territory.

There was no way he could go see Gil looking like a huge neon sign saying 'I just had mad sex last night,' (Gil would fall over laughing) much less walk around with it.

Alright, alright, think...a scarf would be weird with this warm weather...bandana! Ok, if I take off the blazer...I just have to hope no one sees through the shirt...

He started the Audi and stepped on the gas, speeding down Knightsbridge at he-didn't-know-how-much-over-the-speed-limit* kilometres per hour. Screeching to a stop beside a clothing store, he ran in, grabbed a the first bandana he saw that wasn't hideous, paid for it, and ran out leaving the store clerk giving him odd stares from behind.

After taking a huge roundabout loop, he finally pulled up at Princes Gardens. Arthur spotted the familiar figure sitting in the grass, observing birds. Gilbert had always liked birds. It seemed out of character, but he told Arthur once before that it was because he was fascinated by their ancestry*.

Arthur shouted to him and waved. Gilbert jogged over as Arthur got out of his car, the silvery white head bobbing closer and closer from a distance.

They walked and chatted, like they used to all the time when they were undergraduates. Only now did Arthur realise how much he really missed it. It and Gilbert himself. Gil, on the other hand, was preoccupied, with Arthur knew exactly what, but once they started on the timeless topics of politics and economics, there was no stopping. Gil was the intuitive sort, who seemed to always have the right gut feelings about this politician and that multi-million company. Arthur always felt that it was a pity Gil didn't want to go into business and trade. For a man who spoke three languages and whose family owned an auto parts manufacturing company that raked in the cash like mad, it seemed an immense shame. But Gilbert was stubbornly set against the idea of taking over the company with his brother. He said he would ruin his old man's hard work in a single stroke of bad investment.

It started to rain soon, so they retreated inside the library to wait it out. At that point, all Arthur could do was pray that people couldn't see through his shirt. Meanwhile, they bumped into Ludwig, talked for a while, then left for lunch. The rain had stopped and the clouds were gradually scattering.

It was then, as they sat in the park with a sandwich in each of their hands, that Arthur finally had the opportunity to tell his friend what he'd been wanting to the whole time. "Erm...Gil. I saw my mother yesterday. She was here."

The sandwich stopped halfway to Gilbert's mouth. "What? You should've told me sooner!"

"I'm sorry! I didn't get the opportunity. There were people around!"

"If by people, you mean birds and squirrels! Okay, never mind that, why was she here?"

"I don't know! You know Briggs right?"

"The old man with the beard? The marketing professor?

"Yes, that one."

"Doesn't he think you're a genius?"

"Yes, that one," Arthur repeated scornfully, then continued, "She was standing outside the Business School and then Briggs came out to greet her. They went in together."

Gilbert's silver eyebrows pressed down on his smooth forehead. "That's strange. There's no way she could have..."

"Yes, there is." Arthur began to nervously tap his fingers on the ground.

"What do you mean? We spent all that time-"

"Yes, but the Hub doesn't exactly help me keep a low profile, does it?"

"You're barely ever outside your office!"

"I know, but when I am, I'm not that hard to distinguish, you know. Ugh, I knew it, I should've shaved my eyebrows..."

"No! No!" Gilbert clamped his hands over Arthur's forehead forcefully. "If you do that, I won't even be able to recognise you!" he insisted.

Arthur rolled his eyes and pushed the Gilbert's hands away, hoping that Gil wouldn't notice he was blushing slightly. "Let go, Gil. You're being awkward."

"Fine, I'll keep my ears open on-campus for you."

"Thank you," Arthur uttered gratefully. A short pause.

"So...who was that bloke you slept with?"

Arthur could feel the root of his ears heating up. He looked away, pretending to study the trunk of the tree they were sitting under. "T-There's no one!"

Gilbert then subsequently broke into a fit of laughter that made him fall over on the grass. "Shut up! You git! I said shut up!" Arthur reached over and pinched Gilbert's nose. Hard.

"Ooowww!"

"I told you to shut up."

"Fine, fine...but I'm just saying," Gilbert grinned deviously, "You're quite the horny bastard."

"You're one to talk," Arthur growled back.

"Alright, alright. Well, I have to go. I have lab duty today," he stood up and gave the disgruntled Briton a pat on the back. "But give me a call if you change your mind about telling me who this bloke is." And he scurried off as Arthur shouted a string of creative profanity after him. His silver head soon disappeared behind the school building. Arthur let out a long sigh and leaned back against the tree, blowing listlessly at his own strands of hair. Gil was gone. He felt inexplicably lonelier than before. It was so easy to get sucked into Gilbert Beilschmidt's rasping laughter and mischievous grin. Too easy. But right now...he wondered where Alfred was. Was he still mad? Will he be the same as always? Will he not smile at me? It would be a pity if he didn't...

"What...exactly..."

Arthur snapped to attention at the voice only a breadth away. He didn't recognise it at first, only thinking it was vaguely familiar. He raised his head to find a pair of intensely blue and injured eyes gazing down at him reproachfully. Alfred? Was that really his voice? He was always so upbeat, Arthur didn't know how he sounded otherwise. Arthur suddenly felt a pang shoot through his chest. Had he been here the whole time? How did he find me? I thought that after that phone call when we were in the library, he would just give up...

He sprang to his feet and tried to rearrange his messy hair in frenzy. "Al! What're you doing here?"

"What exactly is your relationship with him?" Alfred seethed.

"Huh?"

"Gilbert! What is he to you?"

And it finally struck him. "No! No, Gil's just my mate."

"Really? Because I talk to him at the bar everyday and he knows everything about you! More than Francis or Antonio! He knows your schedule for each frikin' semester of college!" Alfred looked like he had finally let out something he had kept inside for a very long time.

Arthur's eyes widened, mouth hanging ajar. "You asked him for my university schedules?"

Alfred gritted his teeth, "No. I asked him what kinds of classes you take."

"Oh...well, he knows Antonio's and Francis's too. He has a memory like that."

"But this morning. This morning you left just because of him! I've seen you two together. You can't keep your eyes off of him!"

Arthur was immediately furious. How dare he accuse me like that? He doesn't know anything! Arthur no longer cared if people could hear him. "You're being ridiculous! I left because he's my best friend and he asked me to come! Plus, he's straight, so the idea is even more absurd!"

"Oh. So that's what it is! He's straight, so I'm your second choice! Is that it?"

"No! Stop it, you're being over-dramatic! You know what? I don't need to explain myself to you! You forced me into it! I told you 'one night' but you wouldn't bloody listen!"

Arthur's scream resonated through the trees and bushes. The birds were silent, too frightened to sing a peep. Only the artificial sounds of the city reached their ears from somewhere very far away. After a long silence-

"Okay, then. I'm sorry. I just thought that if I tried really hard then you would give me a chance. But apparently, I'm not worth even that." Just like that, Alfred turned his back and walked stiffly away, kicking over the dustbin beside the street in anger as he passed.

1 Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, later the husband of Queen Victoria of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland (26 August 1819 – 14 December 1861) was The Prince Consort of the British Empire and an innovator/reformer, which makes him cool enough to receive a golden statue.

2 Here referring to American football.

3 I need to add this here for educational purposes: Listen children, Arthur is being a very bad boy. Do not drive over the speed limit, especially in the city.

4 Ancestry of birds- birdies evolved from dinosaurs.

[Insert disclaimer from Chapter 1] and ALSO i must put a DIRE warning: This is only the BEGINNING of illegal/questionably moral things they do. This is essentially a story about smart but stupid ppl. So if you're smart like Arthur and Gilbert, don't be stupid like Arthur and Gilbert. Okay? xD Also, please don't be offended if the story refers to any element of your culture in a way you don't like (like Arthur with American football). I write from a biased POV based on my interpretation of each character, so it doesn't always translate into MY views. Anewayz, lots of thanks for The Strawberry once again. Next chapter is Pruhun, but it will be the last chapter to follow in the alternating order. REVIEW to point out my stupid mistakes i've been known to butcher foreign languages. Hehe. *awkward laugh*