So! Hello, my pretties! Another update!
Honestly, I think this is the best I have EVER stuck to an updating schedule. I usually either update late, or not at all. Which is why I currently have 3 stories on an unofficial hiatus. Fuck me, right?
In an case, MANY THANKS TO THAT BEAUTIFUL BLOODY BEAUTY, ANONYMOUSE, WHO I COULD NOT PM ON ACCOUNT OF SHE/HE/IT REVIEWING AS A GUEST.
I LOVE YOU.
I REALLY, REALLY DO.
To those who are not that person, the prompt I got from he/she/it was party, dance, even prom. Or, alternatively, a "pre-planned movie outing as friends that ends up feeling more like a date because of the nice legs comment."
Mate, I gotta say, that really did help. I was thinking Alfred would just randomly show up at Arthur's house and crash on his couch or something. YOU'VE SAVED US!
Without further ado, I don't even own the prompt for this one shot I'm writing about characters I also don't own. Disclaiming is incredibly depressing.
Enjoy~
I was hiding in a corner. But that's a story for another time. Suffice it to say that I was at a party. Not one of the better decisions I have made.
Alfred, my best friend and the loudest person I know, likely had no problems with the frankly offensive nature of the decibel level. I, however, am not keen on becoming deaf in later life and want to be able to pass college- meaning that I would prefer not to lose my brain cells to alcohol.
So why did I come?
For Alfred.
Of course.
Why did Alfred come?
For Matthew.
Of course.
Why did Matthew come?
For Gilbert.
Of course.
Why did Gilbert come?
Beer.
So yes, in a roundabout fashion, I can blame everything (the fact that I have already wasted 3 hours of my life on pointless garbage when I could be working; the fact that I am most likely going to cave, get drunk, and lose my virginity; and the fact that I'm going to have an astronomical headache in the morning) on beer.
Or on Gilbert. I think I'll go with Gilbert.
However, my musings on the culpability of my lifelong-friend-enemy-liquidy-thing are meaningless. The fact remains that this party would be much more fun if I had half a spine, some balls, or a penis. Or no brain. Yeah, that would probably work the best.
You see, I came here tonight with the express goal of kissing Alfred. Yes, my best friend. Yes, that guy. Yes, a male.
And, like all great procrastinators, I am reasonably confident that it was simply a lie I told myself to rid myself of the shame of not having any guts.
You see, it's not even the fact I'm not sure of his sexuality. If only it were that simple. He's bi. He's dated guys in the past. That's not the problem.
The problem is not even that he's taken, and I am doing the gentlemanly thing of not ruining the relationship he has with his hypothetical girl/boyfriend; he's single. Has been for a couple months. No, that's not the reason either.
It's not even that I'm scared of ruining our relationship. After all, when Kiku told him he liked him, he'd been fine with it. They'd been perfectly god friends afterward.
It's not because I'm shy, and think he won't like me back. Well, actually, yes, it kind of is.
You see, he has a crush.
He's been struck dumb in love, shot by cupid, all that bloody romantic bull. All I know is that every now and then he gets this thrice-accursed starry-eyed look. I can't stand it. I think it's because of the envy that's doing a striptease in my intestines.
So you see it's not a matter of being afraid that he might not like me back; I know he won't like me back.
And honestly, I can't stand the prospect of being officially freindzoned.
At this point, at least I can blame the fact I'm not dating him already on cowardice. I can convince myself there is still hope.
But I'm not stupid. I know, however well I lie to myself, that he likes someone else, and that that's never going to change.
Which brings me back to my first point.
I'm hiding in a corner.
I told you it was a story for another time… Well, as I've just effectively loaded you up with the entire plot for a bloody romantic comedy, I can't make it much bloody worse, can I?
He's making out with Ivan.
That's why I'm hiding.
Alfred. F. Jones. Is. Making. Out. With. Fucking. Ivan. Braginsky.
MOTHERFUCKING IVAN BRAGINSKY.
000
Kissing Ivan was just as gross as I had expected it to be.
He was cold and slimy, and his tongue tasted all weird. But, in the hope of finally making it out of the friendzone, I had to do it.
Yes, I'm a manipulative asshole.
Blame Mattie, it was his idea.
You see, I like Arthur Kirkland. My best friend. Yes, a guy. Yes, him. Yes, the guy with the eyebrows.
Thing is, I can't puck up the courage to ask him out.
Yeah, I know, it's completely unheroic of me, but sometimes we have our weaknesses, you know?
Anyway, the thing is, he has a crush.
He gets this really far-off expression in his eyes sometimes… Like he's daydreaming about someone he really, really, wants to be with… I know if I tried to ask him out, he'd just say no. Sure, I mean, he'd be nice about it. For all he acts like a sour old bastard, he's actually really sweet.
So I asked Mattie for help.
And this is what he came up with.
In order to know, once and for all, whether he liked me or not, I would have to make him jealous.
This immediately struck me as dangerous. I have seen enough romantic comedies with my brother to know that that doesn't always work (If there's no attraction, then there's no jealousy. I never understood why those stupid bitches didn't see that). But then again, Mattie was right; it was all I had going for me.
So I made out with the commie bastard.
Don't ask me why it was him. We have history.
But after I'd broken the kiss, I couldn't find Artie.
000
On second thoughts, this sulking is immature. I should go find Alfred.
000
"Artie!" he yelled, when I tapped him on the shoulder. "There ya are! I've been looking for ya for ages!"
I smiled in an awkward sort of way. I wasn't really sure what to do next, or how to go about this.
000
Artie shuffled his feet nervously, and I wanted to jump for joy. Could he really be about to say…?
"Alfred," he began uncertainly.
"Yeah?"
"I saw you kissing Ivan."
Don't smile don't smile don't smile don't smile…
"Look, it's fine by me. I'm just worried about you, is all. I mean, remember what happened when you dated last year? That…"
I tuned him out.
All.
Hope.
Lost.
000
I wasn't sure what was wrong with Alfred. After all, I was the one who tuned him out, not the other way around. Maybe he was sick?
In any case, it was incredibly rude. I had finally summed up the courage to tell him that I didn't mind if he tore my heart out, as long as he was happy. But he couldn't even have the common bloody decency to listen to me when I did.
Sometimes I hate this bastard.
Maybe, I thought, he wants to go back to Ivan… You're obviously not good enough to hold his attention when he's got better things to do…
000
"I should let you get back to Ivan," he said. Great. Now I was suck explaining this mess to the commie bastard.
To add insult to injury, I was offered a fantastic view of his ass as he turned and walked away.
000
I was trying not to cry.
After all, I'd just been friendzoned by my crush of about a year. And he didn't even know he'd done it.
Oh well. At least he's happy.
000
Oh… I'm sorry. Did you want a happy ending? Well, it looks like you're not getting one!
In any case, I hope you will forgive me for my douchiness. I just literally thought that this is a more realistic option.
After all, not everyone gets out of the friendzone, do they?
Anyways, I love you all very much, and please prompt me for the Sunday installation! Remember, in that one they are together, which means that you can have it as fluffy and pretty and corny as you like! Fuck, if you want, they can skip through a wheat field holding hands!
All my love, and give me reviews in return! If you hate me, I want to KNOW!
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(And a possible alternate ending, for those who think I'm an utter fucktwat)
"Thanks for driving me home, Alfred," I said, still not looking at him. I'm not sure I'll ever look at him the same way. After all, I now have the complete and unmolested truth about this relationship and it's not one I like.
He stayed quiet for a moment, and then said, "Yeah…" just as awkwardly. I opened the door.
"Hey, Arthur, wait a sec," he said, and I looked back. He looked weird… Nervous, uncertain, but also curious. In the darkness of the car, his eyes burned an impossible, electric blue.
"What is it?" I snapped, maybe a little too harshly, but it was like he didn't even notice. He just kept watching me, with that weird expression on his face.
"Look, Art," he said quietly, "I'm sorry, but I just have to know…" and then he kissed me.
And it was like heaven on earth.
His lips, chapped and chewed but still so impossibly soft and gentle, rested on mine lighter than a moth's wings. It was so light if I hadn't felt his warmth right next to me, smelt the leather and peppermint aroma of his skin, I would have almost imagined it wasn't even there.
But it was still the best kiss I've ever had in my life.
This,
I think,
Is flying.
SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO maybe I'm not as much of a bitch as I seem. Still, the chapter specified "shy" so I didn't really think they'd end up being bold. It cost me a lot of internal debate and second-guessing to get to that point, and then I came out with that motherfucker anyway. I suppose I just wanted to write a first kiss. I've only done it once before.
Incidentally, A) I think my brother is fapping; and
B) I'm officially addicted to TV tropes. And I want a My Name Is Inigo Montoya shirt.