Regular font indicates the present.
Italic font indicates flashbacking.
Bold italic font indicates thought.
Bold regular font indicates writing/typing.
Alfred stared at the pixilated image on his phone, his face pale with a slack-jawed expression residing amongst his features. After a moment, he leaned back in his chair as a groan escaped from his lips, the pixilated image of the Metropolitan Museum exuding black smoke still engraved into his brain.
He picked up his coffee and sipped at it, barely registering the familiar taste burning into his tongue as he was still trying to comprehend the situation at hand.
This is just getting ridiculous, the American thought, glancing around at the other people present in the Starbucks' café out of habit. Since England had made his first debut with the Ganymede jewelry, America and the NYPD had been receiving vast amounts of negative recognition, so his paranoia had heightened with every picture of 'America' plastered in the media as someone could figure out the hero's secret identity. How long does England plan on bothering us?
A second glance to those at the café confirmed his suspicions, as all were on their phones and looking at the images of the smoke-bombed Metropolitan Museum. Another groan escaped his throat as he rubbed his temples. I swear, these acts are nothing but big performances to him.
"You claim to be a hero for justice who handles all criminals without discrimination or personal bias, and yet you work with the NYPD?"
"Are you stupid enough to follow what they say, or are you just naïve? Are you oblivious to the sins they've committed, or are you just in denial?"
"It's obvious you have a difficult enough time abiding by your own rules. Or is it possible those little morals of yours are just for show? A little self-gratification to satisfy your hero complex?"
He scowled, his grip on his Styrofoam cup tightening until a small 'crack' forced him to relinquish it. Yet, as much as I hate to admit it, his methods are effective.
The second strike at the Metropolitan Museum had occurred the previous night, yet rumors and images supporting said rumors had spread like wildfire across the internet. While he had no idea who was responsible for the pictures, they were posted onto the same website responsible for both the original Metropolitan and the America fiasco photos. Taking that into consideration, it was logical to assume that England, or more over, England's helper, was responsible for the smoke pictures uploaded to the internet.
He ground his teeth when remembering that, unable to stop wondering why he hadn't received some kind of message from the NYPD telling him to stop interfering with England.
They don't want their reputation to be tarnished any further, Alfred thought, clicking on other websites to see if they had photos of their own, mentally sighing in relief when such wasn't the case. It would have been bad if multiple sources had their own pictures of last night as that would mean a lot of people witnessed the event, but thankfully the situation could be much more manageable considering it was the same set of photos on each site he visited. The actions the police took during the Metropolitan heist made that clear, though it ended up backfiring in their faces. Still, so long as I keep interacting with England I risk the chance of further humiliating them, so why haven't they talked to me about it?
"If you hope to change things through doing their dirty work, you're only encouraging them to act unethical knowing you'll clean up their mess."
Is it possible that he's…somehow right? Am I nothing but a show dog to them? If that's the case, why haven't they said anything when it's clear I'm only hurting them?
The American shook his head in a futile attempt to shake away his thoughts, as he took another swig of his drink. What am I thinking, taking a criminal's words into account when it's clear he wants nothing more than to ruin me? He's rotten to the core, the type who won't hesitate to use my weaknesses to his advantage; I'd only be helping him if I started thinking like him!
The concept sent chills down his spine. To share the same mindset with a criminal…he'd never stomach the disgrace.
I became a hero for two reasons, and two reasons only, the bespectacled blond recalled, standing up and throwing his cup away when he finished. Reason number one was to repay my parents for their deeds and ensure their sacrifice wasn't in vain by preventing people from dying, families being torn apart, and lives being destroyed.
His gaze softened behind his glasses, his heart tugging uncomfortably in his chest. Reason number two was to help Arthur. To make a world free of unnecessary hardship and pain so that he could find more reasons to smile.
Alfred exited the Starbucks café with his phone, still viewing the Metropolitan smoke pictures as he began walking down the street. A quick glance in the direction of Central Park caused another squeeze in his chest cavity, his cheeks heating up when recalling the events of yesterday afternoon.
It's so strange to think all of that happened yesterday, he continued to internally monologue within the depths of his mind, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose as they were starting to slip. A lot of crazy stuff's happened as of late, it's easy to forget how much time has passed.
Alfred's walk stopped for half a second before he resumed, the reason being he had remembered what he almost did to Arthur.
What would I have done if my phone hadn't gone off? He wondered, his blush worsening against his cheekbones and his pulse speeding up. Would I have really-?
His face erupted into fifty shades of red as he furiously shook his head a second time. No, no, no! Friends don't do that to each other, no matter how close they are! And while I have nothing against people who play for the same team, guys don't go off and kiss other guys out of nowhere!
Had he been near a wall, he would have rammed his head against it so that he could release the blood pooling in his face.
T-t-though it was really strange, he acknowledged mentally, using his blond bangs to somewhat conceal the crimson state of his facial features. I-I've known that Arthur isn't as masculine as other guys I've known, but for some reason he was actually kind of…beautiful.
This time, he slapped his own cheeks so that hopefully the pain could distill his train of thought that was steadily going into a weird, weird tunnel. And another thing, guys don't think of other guys as beautiful!
"Alfred, should I be concerned as to why you're hitting yourself?"
The American dropped his phone and jumped, partly because he didn't expect to be called out in public, partly because for a minute that familiar accent reminded of-
"-England?" Arthur finished Alfred's thought, somehow catching the bespectacled blond even more off-guard. He blinked a few times to register what happened, only to see Arthur standing across from him with his fallen phone in his hands. "Why are you looking up pictures of England on your phone?" The Brit wondered out loud, showing the image currently residing on the phone screen to Alfred. While the screen hadn't cracked (thank God), his fingers had accidentally clicked on a picture of England when he lost his grip.
"Oh, that," the taller blond laughed, scratching the back of his head out of embarrassment. "Everybody's been raving about him nowadays, with the Metropolitan heist and the smoke from last night."
Alfred was curious in regards to why Arthur suddenly paled. "Smoke from last night?" He questioned, quirking a light eyebrow to rise against the American's forehead. "Where did you hear about that?"
It was Alfred's turn to pale, though he hoped the bushy-browed Briton wouldn't notice. "Again, everybody's been raving about it. Supposedly some pictures were leaked onto the 'net, so it could just as easily be a fake."
Arthur nodded, handing him the phone. "Yeah, probably," he agreed, following Alfred when he pocketed his phone and continued to walk. "So what are you doing out and about?"
"Needed my caffeine fix," the bespectacled American grinned, prompting a facepalm from his friend. "Hey, I caught you in a Starbucks once, so don't act like you're innocent either!"
"That was at a last resort and you know it," Arthur retorted when he removed his hand from his forehead, wincing when his fingers grazed a certain part of his face. "In any other circumstance, I wouldn't be caught dead in that place."
The shorter blond failed to notice the uneasy look on the taller blond's face at the sight of his cut.
"What happened to your cheek?" Alfred asked, pulling the Brit aside so that they wouldn't hold up the crowd and taking his face into his hands. He lightly skimmed his thumb over the smooth cut, oblivious to how badly Arthur was blushing beneath his touch. "I don't remember that being there, yesterday."
At this point, all Alfred knew was warmth. The warmth of the diminishing sun, the warmth of Arthur's cheeks, the warmth of his own heart beating wildly within his chest cavity. He couldn't speak, he couldn't phrase anything into words, the only thing he could think was one sentence:
More than anything, I want him to be happy because I-
Surprise overtook his features when the British boy wretched out of his grip, his features a bizarre mixture between paleness and vibrant red. "I-I was trimming my hair and cut my cheek with scissors," he explained, averting the American's gaze for unbeknownst reasoning. "Trust me, I'm fine."
Alfred's brow furrowed in a worried manner, but his expression vanished as a fake smile arose to mask his concern and disappointment(?). "Got it," he said, pulling on the male's sleeve so that they could walk some more. "Though if there's any place that needs trimming, it's your eyebrows~"
"My eyebrows are fine!" Arthur snapped, his arms crossed over his chest as his face continued to heat up.
The American rolled his eyes, a genuine smile replacing the fake one as he observed the pouting Englishman beside him. "Size 48 eyebrows aren't really in style, Artie~"
"Neither are Captain America pajamas," Arthur countered, a smirk etched onto his features. "While you're twenty-one, you still behave like a child."
"This coming from the guy who has a closet-full of Harry Potter merchandise and can quote 'Sherlock' word for word," Alfred taunted, ruffling Arthur's blond hair and relishing how even the tips of his ears were red. "Seriously, Kiku got you into 'Black Butler' and you holed yourself up in your dorm for a week!"
"That show was good," Arthur deadpanned, pouting when Alfred burst into laughter. "S-shut up! Don't forget that when we were asked what our career goals were, you said 'four words: genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist'!"
"Hey, those are pretty good goals," the bespectacled blond shrugged, much to Arthur's chagrin. "You're just mad because you haven't decided what you want to do, yet."
"I've been pre-occupied as of late," Arthur began, eyeing his American friend when he opened his mouth to protest. "With things aside from studying and marathoning T.V shows!"
"Things like what, if you don't mind my asking?" Alfred responded in a 'oh really?' tone as he doubted the statement. "Enlighten me~"
"T-t-things which require a lot of my time, nowadays!"
"Things like what? Cosplay?"
"No."
"Crossdressing?"
"No."
"A gay lover?"
"N-no!"
"Damn, and here I wanted to see how that would turn out, since I'd be interested in meeting a guy up to your standards," Alfred mock-sighed, provoking (yet another) vibrant blush to overtake the Brit's pale cheekbones. "Bummer."
"You shouldn't joke about things like that," Arthur mumbled, looking away out of embarrassment. Alfred was surprised to find that the Englishman's line-of-sight trailed in the same direction as Central Park. "What if someone overheard you?"
The American felt a small pin-prick in his chest, though he brushed it off. "What about it?"
Arthur snorted lightly, his eyes half-lidded as he continued to look away, a strange smile playing against his features. Not necessarily happy, but not necessarily sad either. "You wouldn't want someone to get the wrong idea, would you?"
What's with that look you're wearing? Alfred thought, glancing to the Briton as they continued to walk. I know it wouldn't bother me, but why would it bother you?
He grimaced internally, his hands turning to fists at his sides. It hurts me to see you look like that. That's why I've gone so far and done so much as 'America'; to make a world where you can live happily.
A soft sigh escaped him, unheard by the blond beside him. But why does it seem like my efforts are always futile? In spite of how many criminals I put in jail, how many bad influences I catch, he remains the same. Regardless of how far I reach and try to grab him, he always slips away like water through my hands.
Alfred bit his lip as he turned to look at Arthur, wondering what the source of the expression on his face was. That wistful, almost longing look that made the male's features soften yet harden at the same time, that made him look older than he was.
Just seeing that face made him remember something. Something that always made his heart feel like it had broken and repaired incorrectly.
Alfred never wanted to see Arthur cry again.
Alfred was exhausted.
All day, he had been receiving phone calls from the NYPD to chase after criminals, to the point where he found it easier to simply wear his America attire beneath his normal attire in case he had to change!
While it was a million times easier playing the part of 'America' in college than it was in high school, he still found it difficult to manage his superhero duties while balancing homework and classes. Combined with the fact that he had a few morning classes, he was more than ready to collapse into bed for a couple hours.
A yawn escaped from his mouth as he readjusted his shirt, paranoid that the fabric would ride up and reveal his superhero outfit, uncharacteristic signs of tiredness present on his person and ranging from his glasses askew on his face to the sluggishness of his speed.
"I'll say goodnight to Arthur and then I'll go to sleep," he reminded himself as he exited his dorm and headed downstairs to the floor where Arthur and Kiku lived. His groggy mind barely registered his trip until he found himself at the door, where he knocked twice.
He wasn't surprised when the door didn't open; after all, it was an ungodly time at night/morning, it was logical to assume that the two had already gone to sleep.
What did surprise him, though, was the fact that their door was unlocked.
That's odd, he thought semi-coherently as he turned the knob and opened the door, stepping inside and quietly closing and locking the door behind him. Arthur's always cautious about keeping the doors locked; I wonder why he'd forget this time?
He trudged through the hallway, making sure to keep his footsteps light and quiet considering he knew how pissed off Arthur (and surprisingly Kiku) could get when woken up. If the Briton was awake, then he'd say goodnight and all that. If not, he'd go away. Simple as that.
What he wasn't anticipating was coming close to Arthur's door, fist raised to knock on the door and everything, only to stop as he heard muffled sobs on the other side of the door.
It was probably his sleep-deprived mind that was responsible for the warm ball of weird emotions that swelled in his chest at the sound. It was also probably his sleep-deprived mind that was responsible for him slowly opening the door.
He had no idea what to expect. Maybe Arthur curled up on the floor with his laptop, crying into tissues because of 'Sherlock' season three? Maybe on his the edge of his bed facing his T.V, mouthing 'You have your mother's eyes' while watching 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows' part two? Maybe in the closet on his phone, shaking his head while trying to deny that 'Black Butler' season two happened?
He honestly expected those things were more likely to happen.
Instead, he saw Arthur with his back to the door, sitting beside his window. His shoulders were slumped as if the world was dumped onto him, his skin a mess of pale and pink from his tears. One hand covered his face and muffled his sobs, while the other hand held his cellphone to his chest.
Alfred had no idea how long he stood in the doorway staring at the Englishman situated by his window, how long he heard his ragged breathing and soft weeping. All he knew was how badly his heart cracked into pieces when Arthur turned to look at him, tears clinging to his eyelashes and streaming down his cheeks, his gaze deep and full of despair.
The American felt whatever pent-up feeling in his chest release when he walked over and hugged the Brit. He felt Arthur's arms wrap around his upper back, felt his fingers dig into his spine, felt his face bury into the fabric of his shirt. Alfred rested his chin on top of Arthur's head, kept one hand around his waist, and the other hand on the boy's back to keep him steady.
Again, he had no idea how long it was until Arthur finally met his bespectacled gaze, embarrassment and guilt swimming in pools of emerald. He looked like he wanted to say something, but Alfred beat him to it before he could open his mouth.
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," he insisted, catching the Briton off-guard based on the widening of his eyes. "Trust me when I say that."
Out of the years he had known Arthur, he had only seen him cry tears of sadness once. That time had actually been four months ago.
Another soft sigh escaped him, as he figured he might as well voice his thoughts.
"I wouldn't care about people getting the wrong idea," Alfred answered to break the silence, arousing his confusion when Arthur looked back at him with widened eyes. "People could think whatever the hell they wanted and I wouldn't care. Whatever you meant by all of that."
Another moment of silence passed between the two, broken by the Brit's laughter.
Arthur laughed as they walked, attempting/failing to smother his laughter by covering his mouth with the palm of his hand. "You're such an idiot," he managed to say through his fingers, the sight of his smile making the world seem a bit duller by comparison for an instant. "You really are."
Alfred smiled, his eyes crinkling in relief behind his glasses. "Ah, but you love me anyway~" He joked, admiring how quickly (and vibrantly) the boy could blush.
"No I don't," Arthur stated, crossing his arms with a smirk in vain efforts to mask his crimson skin. "You're a delusional twat as always, Jones."
"But I'm your delusional twat, Kirkland~"
I'll continue to use 'America' as my sword, Alfred thought even while they continued to walk together back to NYU, talking and playfully-arguing all the while. And even if 'England' attempts to twist my thoughts and ruin my plans, I'll take him down. With 'England' out of the way, criminals of all kinds will no longer mock 'America' and the NYPD. Instead they will fear them, causing crime to diminish and making New York safer.
Then, and only then, can Arthur live in peace.
Author's Note: Gah, this was hard to type out. I'm still feeling the writer's block, so I apologize greatly on behalf of any/all hastily/badly written parts of this chapter.
Here's some alternate scenes to this chapter, since there a lot of them and I thought you guys might get a kick out of them:
Alternate scene #1: T-t-though it was really strange, he acknowledged mentally, using his blond bangs to somewhat conceal the crimson state of his facial features. I-I've known that Arthur isn't as masculine as other guys I've known, but for some reason he was actually kind of…beautiful.
This time, he slapped his own cheeks so that hopefully the pain could distill his train of thought that was steadily going into a weird, weird tunnel. YOU CAN'T CATCH ME, GAY THOUGHTS!
OH YUSH WE CAN~! A flamboyant voice in the back of his head shouted.
Alternate scene #2: "What happened to your cheek?" Alfred asked, pulling the Brit aside so that they wouldn't hold up the crowd and taking his face into his hands. He lightly skimmed his thumb over the smooth cut, oblivious to how badly Arthur was blushing beneath his touch. "I don't remember that being there, yesterday-"
He stopped when hearing the sound of someone's phone clicking, as Alfred turned and saw Kiku standing off to the side.
"Don't mind me," the Asian murmured, taking more pictures on his phone of the two. "Just keep going, pretend I'm not here."
Alternate scene #3: "That show was good," Arthur deadpanned, pouting when Alfred burst into laughter. "S-shut up! Don't forget that when we were asked what our career goals were, you said 'four words: genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist'!"
"Like you're any better," Alfred gasped, standing upright as he grabbed his stomach from how hard he was laughing. "You put down 'Disney princess'."
"I'VE BEEN DREAMING OF A TRUE LOVE'S KISS-"
Alternate scene #4: The American felt whatever pent-up feeling in his chest release when he walked over and hugged the Brit. He felt Arthur's arms wrap around his upper back, felt his fingers dig into his spine, felt his face bury into the fabric of his shirt. Alfred rested his chin on top of Arthur's head, kept one hand around his waist, and the other hand on the boy's back to keep him steady.
Alfred looked up when he heard the door open, rolling his eyes.
"Just pretend I'm not here," Kiku said as he took more photos on his phone. "This is going on my Tumblr."
Yeah. Maybe when I'm done with this fanfiction, I should make a sequel devoted to the original's bloopers? I don't know. Anyway, big shout-outs to Miyagino 'Mikura' Asakura, meapzilla2mouse, Bubbly12, HiItsUriChan, Harrenwolf, LoveXOXOLuna, and my anonymous Guest(s) for your kind comments~!
So, that's it for chapter 11. We've gotten so far in so short a time…it's hard to believe it's only been a month since this has been published, but it already has over 4000 views and whatnot. I'm so happy to see so much positive feedback. Anyway, I apologize for any confusion or badly/hastily written parts in this chapter, I'll try to update as soon as I can with chapter 12 (GAHHHH, SO FAR SO SOON~!). Please don't hesitate to favorite/follow as I'd like you to continue on this journey with me. Please also don't hesitate to leave a review (whether positive or negative, as I greatly appreciate constructive criticism), as my heart leaps with joy every time I see someone commented on my works~
Until then? Stay awesome.