Falling in Love in New York City
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CHAPTER 4
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Rain. Rain and a few stray newspapers was the only thing that welcomed Alfred as he stood in front of the ridiculously shiny building. Even in the dark, the sleek black design gleamed with the scarce lights. It was only seven in the evening; and he was a good two hours late. The last half hour he had spent it gawking at the revolving doors; unsure if to be relieved or upset. He had gotten out of the nerve-wracking moment where he'd at least try to approach his little crush, shall we call it; but also, all the preparing and mentally getting himself ready for the big moment had been all in vain. Distracted, as usual.
The streets weren't as crowded as they usually were, which was kind of a strange blessing of sorts. He didn't want anyone to see the frown that was so blatantly there. Fate was so bluntly working against him that it made him want to sob. Not that he would, of course. Because he was a man, and men didn't cry over stupid stuff. In fact, real men didn't cry at all. So he'd just have to suck it all up, keep his head high and move along. There were dozens of girls who'd give up their untouched flowers to him; why chase after some old guy who probably couldn't even get it up?
…Untouched flowers? That was as poetic as he got. And, well, the guy wasn't that old. Probably old enough to be his dad, and the thought alone was disturbing enough. Maybe he had an age complex. Maybe he was completely out of his fucking mind also. Maybe… maybe he should be heading back home. Little shivers began to make themselves known as he finally noticed his earlier dilemma. The cold suddenly felt ten times worse, and he was standing outside without a jacket still. If he didn't catch a cold from it all, then damn, he would have to be indestructible. With a shaky little sigh, Alfred turned on his heels and began his walk home.
Taxis were ignored, shuffling tourists as well; lip-chapping cold included. He just wasn't feeling on top of his game on that evening, come tomorrow, Alfred Jones would once again be sporting his million-dollar smile, ready to take on the world. But at the moment, sulking was called for. Pushing up his glasses further up his nose, he dragged his feet. Apparently not even the ridiculous amount of caffeine he had just pumped into his body was enough to turn his frown upside down. A stupid school girl, that's what he felt like. "Bummer."
In a subconscious impulse, Alfred slipped a hand into his pocket in search for his phone. But the only thing that surfaced was a small ball of lint. He tried his other pocket; a five dollar bill, a paper clip and his wallet. Slipping the bill into said wallet, he rechecked the first pocket but found nothing different from his first dive. "Shit." Patting down the front of his jeans and then repeating the action across the back led him nowhere. His phone was lost.
Okay, maybe not lost. He had used it back at the coffee shop before blindly jumping out the booth and out the door. There was a good chance he had left it back there; and if that was the case, then he was sure Kiku would keep it safe until tomorrow. But what if he had dropped it on the floor while he ran out and someone else caught it? "Shit, shit, shit!" There wasn't a saint left for Alfred to cuss out as he turned on his heels and ran back towards the coffee house, eventually slowing down to a jog. Running meant speed, speed meant wind cutting across the front of his body, and cold wind on a January evening in New York was not something to be toyed with when the only thing you're wearing are a pair of jeans and a decent shirt. Huffing as he went, his breath visible in front of him in small puffs of smoke, he could swear the tip of his fingers were beginning to turn blue. If he didn't die of hypothermia by the time he got home, or even to the coffee shop, it'd be a miracle. But as far as the day had gone, miraculous things weren't exactly on his side.
Once he got to the seemingly never-ending street, he waited for a few cars to pass by before he deemed it safe to cross into the shop's sidewalk. And the moment he did, his stride slowed tenfold. The cold was no longer the only reason for his chills.
Blue eyes gazed through the glass windows of the toasty looking coffee shop, starring at his Asian friend standing beside the same booth they were in earlier. It wasn't Kiku his shock was directed at though, not in the slightest. It was the slightly taller male standing across from him, chatting most casually as they shook hands. His mind blanked. It had been doing that a lot lately, come to think of it; but continued to stare on. There was just no way…
Alfred knew the guy worked in his father's office, but that didn't stop the surprise of seeing the stranger dressed in a neatly ironed suit. It was such a stark contrast to the painfully tight pants and near slutty shirt he was wearing at the nightclub all those weeks ago. That polite and professional expression that made it impossible to imagine the lust fueled one of that night. He was also slightly taller than Kiku... How perfectly he had fit against his body… Alfred felt something in his throat knot. His stomach felt heavy; and he feared the sweat on his forehead would end up turning into icicles soon.
He could see the emerald of his eyes, the faded blonde of his hair, those massive eyebrows… But it wasn't good enough. The first time he had seen him in the dark; now, he was seeing him through a foggy window. It was nowhere near enough. An improvement, but he wanted more. He wanted to stand in front of him and really look at him. Nothing in between; no barriers. Did he have freckles? God, he hoped so. Yes, he had a thing for freckles; not the massive kind where you couldn't distinguish what was the normal skin and which were those little spots. But the soft ones that could only be seen in the sunlight. He didn't look old. Older than him, yes, but not as old as his old man, he noticed with a sudden wave of relief. … He was also leaving.
Snapping back to painful reality, Alfred inhaled sharply and made for the door. Mind running at one hundred miles per hour, he schemed and played out different scenarios. Maybe he should just approach Kiku, pretend like he didn't notice him and then smile politely and offer his hand. Or, he could ignore Kiku, look absolutely shocked at the man and ask if he was the person of his dreams—no. That was just retarded. What if he walked right up to him, tap his shoulder and be completely cliché. Have we met before? Why, I think we have! Didn't we dan— NO.
The two forms were quickly advancing, or more likely, he was. His breath hitched, his mouth dried. What on earth was wrong with him? He had done this millions of times before. He had asked dozens of girls out and never been rejected. Flirted with complete strangers; hell, he even came right on to Arthur that night and didn't even hesitate. Why the sudden nerve attack now? His feet stopped as if of their own volition, right behind the man he had been longing to see since what seemed to be forever.
Quickly swiping the fog off his glasses, Alfred inspected the man from behind. Every curve, the stiffness of his back, the tantalizing wake of his rear… He watched silently as the man looked down at his watch, the short hair ridding up a bit, exposing a small amount of milky skin and… and… Alfred's heart sunk. Was that… a hicky? … No, no, it couldn't be. Maybe it was just a rash or something. Why in the hell was he acting like some sort of creepy stalker anyways? He stopped when that thought settled in his head, looking from side to side to see if anyone had picked up on his strange staring. Everyone was engrossed in their own little worlds. Good.
Some people say time stops when in the presence of the person you are smitten with. Those people clearly lied. It all moved too damn fast.
"Oh, Alfred-san!" Kiku was rather surprised to see the American again after having run out like some kind of crazy person. He stood there, with Alfred's phone in his small hands. He tried to answer casually, but his throat was dry. He settled with a forced smile. He had seen it coming, then why the hell was he taken so off guard?
The short blonde looked over his shoulder absently before turning back to the Asian with a small smile. "Ah, I best be off then. Have a pleasant evening, young man." Arthur gave a court nod before turning to the new arrival; another small nod and he made his way towards the exit, suitcase in tow. Alfred continued to watch him as he exchanged a quick friendly word with one of the employees before disappearing into the dark outside. If the world ended at that very moment, he wouldn't have given a fuck. He didn't even recognize him. Shoulders sagging, he turned to Kiku who was bluntly staring at him, the phone forgotten in his hand.
"Are you all—"
"Fine and dandy! Freezing my ass off still. See you got my phone." Flawless smile settling into place; blue eyes shining with the light of a thousand suns. Alfred was just Alfred again; careless, happy and clueless. Normally, Kiku would have thought him ridiculous, a façade; but the American played it well enough to make him doubt his own deductions. A top class specimen who played happy-go-lucky so damn well. He'd eventually end up making a fool out of himself. More than usual, anyways. "Man, I flipped when I thought I'd lost it. Thanks."
"You dropped it when you had run out. The screen is a bit cracked; since the gentleman didn't notice and kind of stepped on it when he got up." Taking the phone as gently as possible, Alfred inspected it. The LCD was cracked to an extent that he couldn't even see the background, an old vintage Superman comic panel, much less navigate through his contacts. How was that for a sign? Not that he was superstitious or anything, but it couldn't be more obvious. And for Jones to notice something not obvious took a lot. "He gave me his number. Said to call him if there was a problem; that he'd pay for it."
It wasn't his fault… was what Alfred wanted to say; but it would have been too uncharacteristic of him. Too damn obvious; and Kiku was too damn smart. He would have read him like a book. "He damn well better pay for it, man. Do you know how much this things cost me?"
"I thought it had been a gift."
"Uh, yeah, but… the emotional value behind it; you can't put a price on that, Kiku." Sighing in exasperation, Alfred threw his hands above his head. "And my contacts! How the hell am I supposed to get them now? I sure as hell don't plan on going person to person just to get their fucking phone numbers." Glaring patrons were ignored. "Dad's gonna fucking kill me."
"Hadn't he said he was going to get you a new one?" Kiku remained calm, not even bothering to act concerned. Alfred was acting like a spoiled child; one call to his father and he would have a brand new cellular phone by the time the sun rose over Manhattan. He handed his blonde friend his own phone.
"Yeah but… What's that for?"
"Give your father a call; explain it all."
"I can just drop by and tell him, you know. His place is pretty close; might get a jacket while I'm at it."
"It's better to just call him and tell him in advanced, over the phone. That way you won't have to face him yelling at you when you drop by. Sort of like an insurance. And I think we should sit down now, people are staring." Nodding, Alfred snatched the phone and retook the same seat he'd been on earlier, but not without casting constant sidelong glances towards the door.
He was British. That accent alone had sent a chill down his spine. Sure they had spoken that night, but the loud music had canceled out the tone, the slur that made him so much more enticing. His lashes were almost as thick as his eyebrows, making the green of his eyes powerful enough to enrapture any damn thing close enough to enrapt. Three seconds. He had taken him all in, in just three seconds. And it was still not enough. His mind was in overdrive; thinking, analyzing, plotting, fantasizing. It was impressive just how much he could think about a subject, as long as it was relevant to his interests.
Kiku was quiet. It took him a while, but when he noticed, Alfred flashed him a shit eating grin. "Hey, hey! Little rebel there, ain't ya? How many times did you pull that stunt on your old man?" The Asian was still staring. Those brown eyes told him that he knew something was up, but he was being polite enough as to not bring it up. He too was analyzing the situation. Could it be…?
"At times, we do what we must to survive. I've been threatened over the phone, but once I got home, they've settled down and wouldn't ground me. Not as bad as they had said, anyways." Alfred continued to stare at the phone. "It won't dial itself, you know."
"I know, I know." Flipping it open, Alfred dialed. No answer. "Strange." Maybe he didn't recognize the number. He tried again; still, no one answered. Dialing the house phone, it rang and rang, but no familiar click, or non-American accent answered. The machine switched one though; so Alfred proceeded to do what he did best. Exaggerate. "Yo, pops! I've been trying to call you for like, the last hour. Horrible news; I don't even think I'd be able to go back to my apartment even. Mind if I crash at your place tonight? Just call me back ASAP; please…" Flipping the phone shut, he just had to laugh at the look on Kiku's face. "What?"
"Alfred-san, your LCD screen is broken. You didn't kill someone in your apartment. Neither are you being taken downtown because of it."
Laughing, Alfred shrugged. "Hey, needed to catch his attention! Besides—" The phone began vibrating, and then quickly switched into some upbeat song in Japanese. "Told ya." Instead of taking the call though, he drummed his fingers to the beat against the table.
"Eto…"
"I'll pick it up in a sec; totally love this song." It took all of Kiku's might not to press his palm to his face when the phone finally stopped ringing, and Alfred looked completely outraged. "That was rude." Once it started vibrating again however, Alfred flipped it open instantly. "Yeah? Oh, hey, dad." Fistpumping while biting his lip, the blonde remained silent, listening to his father's worried ranting over the phone. He nodded, pressed a hand to his lips to silence a giggle before nodding again. Kiku was amazed at the exaggerated extent his friend could convey an emotion. "No, no; I'm kind of okay I guess. What? Naw, I'm at the café with Kiku. A while I guess." Inspecting the dirt under his nails, the blonde snorted. "Too much info, man. What should I-? What do you mean I can't? I'm your goddamn son for crying out loud!"
The dark eyes across from him widened considerably, mouthing a 'what's wrong' as the blonde started to get visibly agitated. Alfred turned his head away and lowered his voice again, his usual childish pout popping into place.
"Whatever, man. I was gonna say that my phone broke. Wasn't being serious about crashing at your place— I'll 'whatever' you as much as I freaking want!" A moment of silence as Alfred shifted his sights across the café in an aggravated sort of way, his cheeks red from the anger. "I'm not raising my fucking voice! And what the hell was that? God, you're such a pig!" Flipping the phone shut, he slammed it against the table with all the strength in his teenage body; running the available hand across his face to cover up the red in his cheeks; now not only because of his anger, but because of the embarrassment. "What an asshole." With a huff, he looked up at Kiku who only gazed back, looking paler than ever. "What?"
The Asian only blinked, and turned his sights to the blonde's hand clasped against the table before looking up at him again. "You're embarrassed. That's something not exactly common in you."
Looking away, Alfred huffed, glaring at the fat chef painted on the wall. "His boyfriend was there." His cheeks grew a darker shade of red. "I don't think that was a popsicle he was sucking on."
"Oh." Kiku's lips hung on to the O though; making him look rather comical and a tad bit out of character.
"What kind of father tells their own son that they can't crash for the night just cause he's busy with work? When it's so fucking obvious that he's just fucking his boyfriend." He ignored the way his friend's cheeks colored at that. "Such an ass."
"I believed you two got a long fairly well."
"Not really."
"You seem so enthusiastic when you speak of him." Which was a rather silly statement, truth be told. What wasn't Alfred enthusiastic about?
"He's cool when he wants to be. Like this, for example." Fishing for his wallet, he flashed a platinum credit card with a matching grin. Just like that, he was the incarnation of sunshine again."Being the son of a successful business man has its convenient moments."
"Nothing brings families closer than money." Kiku bit his tongue the moment it slipped out, regretting it already. But Alfred just shrugged.
"Gotta get something out of him. He gets the sex, I get the money."
"You make him sound like a—"
"I swear the God; he has to be, Kiku."
"I don't quite think he needs to sell his body to earn any money, Alfred-san."
"Who said it was for money? I swear he does it for the hell of it." The bitterness was back. The way he ran through moods was about the most difficult thing one could track. And it just amazed Kiku; no matter how long he knew him, Alfred always was and always would be a sight to behold. But he was honest. He always wore what he felt on his sleeve; so obviously reflected in those big blue eyes. Alfred was honest about his feelings; most of the times, anyways. Otherwise, he'd just smile and lie through his teeth as flawlessly as… well, there was really no comparison.
"But he has a boyfriend now."
"So? Sure he settled down; but it doesn't change anything. He'll drop me in a sec just to do that whore."
"He loves him. It's perfectly understandable—"
"Francis isn't capable of loving anyone. That's one thing mom taught me that was actually worth remembering."
"All this time, and this is would be the first I hear you mention your mother." Drumming fingernails against the slick tabletop, Kiku sighed; an extraordinary event, really. But Alfred either didn't notice or didn't quite care; being lost in his own thoughts and all. Something he'd been doing an awful lot lately. "What was her name? If I may ask?"
"Harriet Jones."
"A strong name —"
"She was the British Prime Minister back in two thousand and five."
"…" If it weren't for the dead serious face Alfred had on, Kiku would not have believed it. He had to be pushing his buttons in some form or another. "Eto… exactly, how do you sprout an American child… from a French father and an English mother?"
"The Feds." The blonde's features did not budge. "They were sent on a mission to destroy… —"
"Alfred-san."
"Okay, okay; I'm just trying to lighten up the mood here. Geez." Kiku smiled then and nodded, waiting for the real explanation. "Both my rents are all American."
"But Francis —"
"Is my stepdad?" Enlightenment finally hit him, answering with an exaggeratedly slow nod. "Did you honestly think we're related by blood? I don't even look like him! I mean, even my eyes are bluer!"
"Ah, I see. So you don't like him because he isn't your biological father."
"Seriously? Naw."
"Then why, if not that?"
"Two words. Freedom fries."
Kiku stared at him. "Because he is French."
"Exactly. Do you know what big pervs those Frenchies are? God. That might just about justify why he's like that… But that's no excuse to neglect his charge." Complicated words; he needed to cut down on them. He was over thinking again, but for just one brief moment, a flash of green eyes made him breathe deeply. It might just have been the briefest of memories, but it was enough to make him smile. Alfred's head was just a huge mess of tangled spaghetti at the moment, and venting out was doing some good. But truth be told, his mood was shot. All he wanted to do was get back to his apartment and sleep for the rest of the evening.
"Uh, Alfred-san?"
"Huh?"
"Eto… May I please have my phone back?"
"Wha—…oh. Oh, shit." Noticing then that he had slammed the phone a tad bit too hard against the table and had been constantly squeezing it in an attempt to relieve his stress, he checked it out. The string of curses that slipped out of him were just as colorful as the shirt that one guy was wearing a few booths down. "Fuck! I'm sorry, man! I'll get you a new one or something…"
Taking the phone from the stressed out American's hand, Kiku grimaced. The screen that told him the time was cracked, the number eight eternally was showing as a seven now. Flipping it open carefully, his frown deepened. The cherry blossom background was now a splash of red, blue, yellow and green in the form of a circle; as if something had stabbed the center of the screen and it was bleeding the colors from it. The volume buttons on the side weren't functioning. "Hm."
"Ah, man, I'm sorry! Look, I swear, I'll get you a new one!"
"You can't even get yourself a new one… I doubt your father will allow you the amount needed for two. I can try and fix it —" His words carried off as they were continued to be drowned out by the endlessly rambling American, who continued on and on apologizing for his brute strength.
"…if not I could always just get a job or something, you know. And then maybe…—Did you just snort?" It was Alfred's turn to gaze unabashedly at his best friend who was now doubling over the table, restraining his laughter, but yes, he had just snorted. "What's so funny?" He forced out a chuckle at that, not to seem behind on what was going on. Because he honestly had no idea what was so funny. Strange occurrence of the day number ten thousand. Sleep was needed, lots of it. As soon as it was possible.
"Get a job? You're so funny, Alfred-san."
"I don't get it. I can work if I wanna work! I just… didn't want to."
"You'd get a job over asking your father to help you?"
"… Why can't you just say 'dad' like everyone else? Father sounds so weird."
"Please don't change the subject."
"Okay, okay, jeez. I dunno, maybe a job can entertain me and stuff. Get my mind of things." Alfred said airily, staring at the fat chef again before looking up at the trendy lamps hanging above their table. "Study during the day and work at night; get weekends free. Get some extra cash and stuff."
"I've never seen you too bothered with family issues. Is this a recent occurrence?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You've never seemed bothered by it before. For someone as spoiled as yourself to get a job in order to occupy your mind is something rather drastic." That earned him a glare. "It's just a thought."
"I'll have you know that this has nothing to do with that. I just want to be a responsible young man for once, is all."
"But you just said —"
"I should get a job here! Trendy, hip, lots of cute chicks, if you get what I mean." Another forced chuckle was making Kiku more suspicious that he had already been. It was settled then. What Jones was hiding was more than what he had just been told earlier that evening. "You know what? I'mma just go and ask for an application right now! I'll be right back." Hurriedly getting to his feet, Kiku watched the American stumbling over his nice shoes as he made his way towards the counter.
He could have just called the man responsible for breaking the phone; then that'd only leave his own phone to pay for. Which was silly. He could very well afford a new one on his own, but his friend seemed hell-bent on paying for it. Oh well, it was Alfred sacrificing his free time, not him.
All in all, the day had not been what he had expected. Kiku had a lot of analyzing to do for the next few days. And it wasn't due to his upcoming physics exam. He waved back shyly as the American waved a job application from across the shop, that brilliant smile not entirely reaching his eyes. Oh what a bundle of contradictions Alfred F. Jones was.
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To be Continued.
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AN: Late update is exceptionally late. My apologies guys. As usual, just wanted to say thank you to the beautiful people who reviewed; those things keep me pumped. :D This chapter is a bit slow due to the fact that I'm still getting the characters settled into their corresponding atmosphere. That, along with my indecisive head, are giving me the writer's block of the century. Remember to stop by my profile for updates and whatnot. Peace and love.
