Title: Once Upon A Thursday
Pairings: America/England (Side Pairing in this chapter: Spain/Romano)
Characters in this chapter: America, England, France, Spain, Prussia, Romano, Mentions of Hungary
Rating: T
Summary: AU (human names used); It all started with Punk Thursdays. Alfred stumbles upon a mini concert held in a small-time bar and falls in love...with Arthur Kirkland's voice. What started as admiration turns into friendship between this unlikely pair. But when Alfred finds himself falling in love with Arthur himself, he realizes that starting a relationship is not as easy as he thinks. Especially with someone like Arthur Kirkland.
Warning: possible OOC?
AN: written for the prompt: Punk rocker!England and fan!America's lives as they meet, become friends, and eventually fall in love. beta'd by strawberryburst at livejournal
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
Chapter Two: Six Degrees of Separation
(I can't believe you know each other as well!)
"Where were you last night?" Gilbert asked Alfred the next morning as he caught him walking into in the living room, gingerly avoiding the beer cans strewn carelessly around the floor.
It seemed that Gilbert had spent the night sleeping on the living room floor. He now sat in the middle of empty beer cans, potato chip wrappings and action movie DVDs with what suspiciously looked like porn titles thrown in, wearing a dazed and half-awake look on his face.
From the corner of his eye, Alfred also spotted a stranger asleep, face down, on the couch.
"Who's that?" he asked, pointing with his chin towards the man.
"Oh, him? He's Antonio, my friend. You know Lovino Vargas, the one who lives across our apartment? The one who hates my guts? This guy here's his boyfriend." Gilbert yawned, scratching the back of his messy head. "Poor guy here just got dumped, for the nth time actually, so he's staying here for a while. Don't worry, I bet Lovino's coming for him later."
He narrowed his eyes at Alfred, suddenly remembering something. "Wait a minute, kid. Ya haven't answered my question."
"Oh." Alfred smiled sheepishly. "I just got stuck in some bar because of the rain." He shrugged nonchalantly—even if deep inside, he was still brimming with the excitement of last night. "They actually had this thing called Punk Thursdays. It was really cool and all." He didn't say anything about the guitar riffs that shot electricity through his veins. Nothing about the British punk star and his wonderful voice, and songs speaking directly to his soul. Nothing about the warmth of the crowd as they moved as one to the beat of Arthur Kirkland. And absolutely nothing about the rain-dripped memory uncovered from deep inside his mind last night. Some things were meant to be kept only to himself; they were special that way.
"Punk Thursdays, huh?" Gilbert began to mutter silently to himself, though Alfred caught snippets like 'Francis' and 'not the only one with that gimmick, huh'.
"Ah, well," Gilbert said, now to Alfred. "Tell Elizaveta that I'll be skipping my morning shift today. I have one hell of a hangover and I don't want to nurse it by heating sandwiches and shit." With that said, he closed his eyes and fell right back into the middle of the litter on the floor.
"What?" Alfred protested. "Y-you can't leave me alone! I won't be able to handle all the customers by myself and besides, Elizaveta is so going to kill me if I don't bring you with me!" But Gilbert was sound asleep—or at least, pretending to be, judging by his louder-than-usual snoring.
From the couch, the stranger gave a resounding snore.
The week passed by like a blur.
Everyday, Alfred worked hard at the convenience store with Gilbert and the manager, Elizaveta Hedervary, restocking shelves, reheating sandwiches and packed lunches and trying his best to cope with the regular influx of customers. Afterwards, as soon as he got home, and if he wasn't bone-tired yet from his job, Alfred would bring out a notebook and a pen and try to calculate his savings for the month. Though more often than not, he would find himself staring outside the window at the stars he knew were in the night sky, hidden behind the city smog. After all, numbers rarely held his attention. Stars did.
(Because those stars reminded him of a dream, a dream that involved rocket ships, shooting stars, and galaxies far far away. It was that dream after all that pushed him to work hard, everyday.)
And Antonio, the once-stranger who had first slept at Alfred's house last Thursday, was still at their apartment, contrary to what Gilbert said about him getting back together with Lovino Vargas soon.
"Poor guy," Gilbert said, shaking his head. "Every time I come home from work, he's just there moping around. He's not even the mopey kind of guy. It's really worrisome."
Alfred couldn't agree more. Every time he arrived at their apartment, Antonio would be there, with this aura of…depression surrounding him. Sometimes, Alfred would find him just sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the television screen playing action flicks over and over again. He could already feel the gloominess starting to cling to his being, suffocating him. Something really had to be done.
"Maybe what he needs is a change of environment," Alfred suggested as he arranged packs of instant noodles on the shelf.
Gilbert's eyes lit up. "That's it! Hey, Alfred, isn't today Thursday? You can take me to that bar you chanced upon last week." He grinned. "Small-town bar, new environment, new women. Perfect."
Alfred would have smacked his forehead with his hand if he wasn't holding a bunch of instant noodles. How could he forget Thursday? He had been looking forward to it the whole week!
"Of course I'll take you there!"
"But my darlings, today is a Wednesday," the bartender informed them, amused.
In fairness to Alfred and Gilbert, days become hard to keep track of if they're spent doing the same menial things over and over again.
"I can't believe it!" Gilbert said for the nth time that night. "Alfred really has met you already, Francis."
"Well," Francis replied, setting three bottles of beer on the counter. "To the boy's defense, he didn't ask for my name." He winked at Alfred. "Only Arthur's."
Gilbert laughed loudly at this, and Alfred could feel his face turning red right to the tips of his hair. "It's not like what you're thinking!" Alfred explained hotly. "I just think he's a great singer, that's all."
However, curiosity soon overcame embarrassment, and since Gilbert was still finding it difficult to control his laughter, Alfred turned to Francis.
"So," he asked casually—even if there was certainly nothing casual about his interest in the British singer. "You guys know Arthur Kirkland, huh?"
Francis nodded. "Oh yes, I do know him. We were, ahem, more than friends back in college." He suddenly leaned forward, as if letting Alfred in on a secret. "Mon cher, if I were you, I wouldn't fall for Arthur Kirkland. He's a good guy, but once he finds out you like him, he's going to rip your heart out, smash it on the floor and then stomp on the pieces." He shook his head as Alfred stifled a giggle. "I'm serious! It hurts and I don't want that to happen to such a nice guy like you."
"I won't." Alfred replied promptly. Of course he won't. He was sure of it.
The night went on and the three of them—Gilbert, Francis and Alfred—were enjoying it, drinking bottles of beer and catching up on each other's lives.
However, the main reason why they even decided to come to the bar, Antonio, was still sitting despondently a little far off from them.
Finally, Alfred decided to sit a little closer to him. The poor guy looked like he needed the company and besides, Alfred was starting to feel a little left out as Francis and Gilbert started to reminisce about their college life.
Antonio had his chin on the counter, his own bottle of beer untouched and starting to warm up in front of him. Watching his profile from beside him, Alfred thought that Antonio's face wasn't made for frowning. It had all those smile crinkles around his eyes and mouth and it was easy to imagine him all smiles and sunshine.
"Is it worth it?" he blurted out. "Falling in love?"
Antonio turned, only noticing Alfred's presence when he spoke. Slowly, a small smile formed on his lips. "Well querido, I'd hate you to think that falling in love isn't worth it judging by pathetic little me. You see, I will never trade the feeling of falling in love and remaining in love with any other feeling in the world. It's something I don't regret doing." He began ripping the label off his beer bottle with his thumbnail, quietly lost in his own thoughts.
"Antonio, you bastard! So you were here all along!"
Both of them turned to see a familiar red-faced Italian standing behind them.
"Uh-oh," Alfred whispered to Antonio . "It's Lovino and it looks like he's mad at us." And Alfred knew from experience that it was best to avoid Lovino when he was mad.
But Antonio was already gone from Alfred's side, walking quickly towards Lovino.
"You bastard!" Lovino raged. "I came for you at that fucking German's apartment and you were gone! And where do I find you? In a fucking bar of all places! How dare you play around while you're still my—" He suddenly stopped himself, blushing furiously.
But Antonio had heard everything he wanted to hear. Amidst Lovino's protests, he pulled him closer into a hug.
"What are you doing, you idiot! Not here!" Lovino spluttered out over and over again. But Antonio continued to hold him and Lovino's angry words grew softer and softer until Alfred could barely hear them. "Let's go home, idiot."
Alfred wondered if he was the only one who saw it, but somehow it seemed like the room was growing bigger and bigger until the people around were nothing but a blurred part of the background. And at the center was only a tall Spaniard, now all smiles, holding a red-faced Italian close to him as if nothing mattered. And it looked beautiful.
Maybe it really is worth it. Alfred thought.
And then Gilbert shouted something along the lines of "Now to celebrate the happy lovebirds! Drinks on the house!" and Lovino angrily called Gilbert a variety of curses in two languages, and the moment was gone.
In the middle of the ensuing happy chaos, Alfred decided to slip out of the bar via the back door.
The back door, he found out, led to an alley. It was quiet, aside from the music from inside the bar which now seemed like a far-away throbbing at the back of his head. Alfred leaned back against the brick wall and started savoring the peace of the night when he noticed someone else standing a few spaces away from him.
He, too, was leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette, and he looked awfully familiar. Sandy blond hair. A trench coat, slightly scruffy along the bottom. Leather pants that hugged his legs and his—Alfred could barely suppress the blush creeping up his cheeks—ass a little too nicely. And the all-too-familiar Union Jack Chuck Taylors.
"You're Arthur Kirkland!" Alfred blurted out excitedly.
He looked at Alfred, a surprised expression on his face. "Yes, yes I am. How did you know?"
Alfred could barely contain himself. "I watched you last Thursday and you were so, so awesome! The way you play your guitar, the way you sing! You're just amazing!"
"Really now?" Arthur murmured. "I didn't think there was anyone who'd like my music so thank you."
Alfred wanted to say a million things at once. Things like, Are you crazy? People absolutely love you! or I'm Alfred Jones and the one thing I look forward to every week is your performance. Your music inspires me. or Do you still remember that rainy afternoon when you were standing drenched at the sidewalk and someone came and covered you with a yellow umbrella? That was me actually. But Arthur gave his cigarette one last puff, picked up his guitar case leaning against the wall beside him and walked away without even a last glance at Alfred.
And the words were left hanging silently in the still night air of that empty back alley. Another one of many regrets.
Alfred didn't think he'd get to talk to Arthur again. He felt Arthur was like those celebrities you watched on TV. You idolized them, you loved them and you even reached a point where you felt like they'd become a part of your life. But you could never be a part of theirs. They'd always be a little out of reach.
That was what Alfred thought. Until four Thursdays had passed.
This particular Punk Thursday was better than usual. Alfred was able to sneak into a spot closer to the stage and somehow, up close, Arthur looked even more larger-than-life. Alfred could now see him better: the sweat beading against his forehead, causing his bangs to stick to his face. The black eyeliner outlining his bright green eyes. His fingers, thin but fast across his guitar. His bass sounded even louder up close, Alfred's heart pounding as one with it.
Sadly, it ended a little earlier than usual at a quarter before one. Still filled with the excitement of the night, Alfred did not feel like turning in for the night just yet. So he went to the coffee shop next door, ordered a cup of coffee with lots of cream and sugar, and chose a seat by the window.
The chimes hanging by the door rang, signaling the entrance of another customer. Alfred instinctively looked up.
He almost spat out his coffee; instead he swallowed it quickly, almost scalding his throat. He watched as Arthur glanced through the menu then turned and walked away without ordering anything.
But Arthur did not walk out of the door. Not yet. Instead, to Alfred's surprise, he walked towards Alfred's table.
"Would you agree if I said that the coffee at the diner across the street is better than the one here?" Arthur asked, a small smile on his lips.
"I guess so." Alfred replied.
"Then what are you still doing here?"
Arthur walked out the door with Alfred following him. He didn't regret leaving his half-drunk coffee behind. It was watery anyway.
After the usual introductions, they began chatting about everything under the sun.
"So tell me, Alfred," Arthur said, in between sips of his hot tea, "what do you do for a living?"
The words were about to spill out of Alfred when he suddenly realized what he was about to answer. He was a convenience store employee. It just paled in comparison to Arthur's rock star life.
Sensing his discomfort, Arthur gave him a smile—one of only the few rare ones he gave out, Alfred would find out later on. "Don't worry. I won't judge you unless you're secretly a serial killer or something along those lines."
"I work at a convenience store a few blocks from here," Alfred finally admitted.
"See?" Arthur said, stirring his tea. "That wasn't so hard, wasn't it?"
Alfred nibbled on a ketchup-covered fry. "But it's just not as cool as what you do! I mean, you're a rock star!"
"Actually no, I'm not," Arthur corrected him. "I think 'small-time musician' is the more accurate term. See? Not as cool as you think."
He looked out the window, murmuring more to himself than to anyone else. "My life isn't as perfect as you think."
"Tell me Alfred," Arthur asked after a while, "do you happen to play the guitar?"
"I used to," Alfred replied, finishing the last of the fries. "Though it's been a while and I hardly have the time to practice anymore."
"Do you think you could keep up with my playing?"
It sounded like a challenge to Alfred and Alfred never backed down from a challenge. "Of course! I'd just need a little practice and then," he leaned closer to Arthur, a smug smile on his lips. "I can take anyone on, even you."
"Great." Arthur took a pen from his pocket and a tissue from the table and began to write down something. He folded it and slipped it under Alfred's hand. "Meet me this Saturday at eleven in the morning."
Then he stood up and walked out of the diner, leaving behind an almost-empty cup of tea and a piece of paper, clenched tightly in Alfred's fist.
tbc
Some Notes:
First off, thank you so much for all the reviews, faves and alerts from the last chapter! &hearts. They really made me happy o w o. I hope you guys like this chapter just as much! I was actually surprised at how fast this chapter was written haha XD. Hopefully I can update just as fast for the next chapter however I can't promise anything orz;. Also, I hope nobody minds the Spain/Romano scene I shamelessly inserted :D;;. They won't be appearing much again so please bear with me ahahaha~.
Also, I realized that I forgot to insert some dividers in the last chapter orz;. I edited it already so you guys can reread it if you want :D;;.