AN: Last chapter! I hope you enjoy it n_n


THE PERKS OF BALCONING

5. Angel In My Heart (Mick Jagger)

Arthur sat down on a bench and rubbed his leg. He hadn't walked much, but considering it had spent the last few weeks wrapped in plaster and immobilized, it wasn't surprising that it complained after the tiniest bit of exercise.

"Don't force it," Antonio had said, "but don't let it be idle either. You need to do proper rehab, or you'll carry a scar for the rest of your life."

Then he had redirected him to another doctor, one with more experience in the whole rehabilitation for broken bones area, and that had been the last Arthur had seen of him.

Before leaving, however, Antonio had handed him a package badly wrapped with a newspaper. "It's a piece of your cast," he said. "You should keep it as a reminder."

"Oh." Arthur blushed when he accepted it. "I don't need this to remember you, though."

His eyes gleamed in amusement. "A reminder that jumping off balconies is a terrible idea," he completed his previous sentence.

"Oh." And there he was again, wishing the earth would just swallow him.

"I know you don't need anything to remember me — I'm pretty much unforgettable," Antonio went on, jest in his voice, as he scribbled down something on a paper that he then folded and handed to Arthur. "Here."

"What's this? Your phone number?"

"You wish. It's my friend's address. The phone number is hers as well."

"Any chance I can get yours?"

Antonio hadn't replied. He just smiled mischievously at him and left.

The memory was still too fresh, and Arthur kept revisiting it… and hurting himself by doing so. He really liked Antonio, and it pained him to think that he may never see him again. João's number is still on your puzzle book, a quiet voice whispered in his mind. Arthur shook his head, trying to convince himself he didn't like João that way.

Sure, he was a fun guy. And sure, he, too, was ultra-hot.

But he wasn't Antonio.

"Hi!" a female voice called suddenly by his side, startling him. "Are you Arthur?"

"Ah! Yes, it's me. Emma?"

"Yep!"

He had spoken to Emma before on the phone (she was Antonio's friend, the one who was going to rent him a place to stay) and they had agreed to meet there. Her accent, though not as thick as others Arthur had heard, had told him she wasn't Spanish either. He couldn't quite place it, but if he were to guess, he'd say she was Dutch or Belgian. Seeing her now — blonde hair, green eyes, rosy cheeks — Arthur knew he hadn't been mistaken.

"It's the place far from here?" he asked, standing up. His leg protested and he winced.

"Oh no, no, it's just around the corner." Then she gasped, realizing her mistake. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry! I'd forgotten you'd broken a leg! I wouldn't have made you walk otherwise!"

"Don't worry," Arthur smiled a bit painfully. "I could've taken a cab here, but I didn't, so it's really my fault that it hurts now."

Emma shook her head at him, and Arthur could almost hear her thoughts: Idiot. Whatever. Arthur could take an insult. After all, he had four older brothers.

"Let's go, then."

~{§}~

The place was a nice flat just around the corner, as Emma had promised. Their place was a seventh story (thank goodness the building had an elevator, or Arthur would have collapsed halfway up the stairs), which promised a formidable view, and Arthur got a little hyped at the thought.

They were greeted by who Arthur assumed was Emma's brother: a very tall guy whose blond hair didn't seem to have heard about gravity. His height, combined with the cold glare in his eyes and a scar over his eyebrow, didn't make him look particularly friendly, and Arthur fidgeted uncomfortably as he was scanned by calculating eyes.

Emma, on the other hand, was completely unfazed. "Hello, Vin," she greeted, pushing her brother out of the way and walking in the flat, dragging Arthur's luggage behind her. "Oh, look, you already made the lease." She grabbed a paper from a table and studied it carefully. "Oi, Vincent!" she yelped indignant after a while. "This is the usual pricing! We agreed that we'd make him a discount because he's a friend of a friend!"

"Antonio is not my friend," Vincent grumbled.

"He is mine! Change this numbers right now," she commanded, slapping the lease on her brother's chest. "I'll show Arthur the place in the meantime. Why are you still out there? Come on."

Arthur nodded and followed her inside, dodging Vincent with a quiet, high-pitched "excuse me". Though, considering the scene he had just witnessed, perhaps Vincent wasn't the sibling he was supposed to be afraid of.

The flat was mostly a big living-room that included a kitchen on one corner, a couch and a TV on the other, a balcony (Arthur couldn't help but smile at it), and a table with four chairs in the middle. Emma let him enjoy the view for a moment before directing him into a corridor with doors at the sides: two bedrooms, a toilet, and a bathroom.

Arthur chose one of the bedrooms — the one with a king-size bed, because since he was alone, he might as well sleep like a king — and Emma walked in with him to dump his luggage on the bed.

"I'm sorry about my brother," she apologized, shaking her head. "He's a bit too stingy sometimes."

"So he is Antonio's friend, then?" Arthur asked, curious.

Emma chuckled. "No, not really. Vincent dislikes him because he thinks he's into me, and you know, older brothers can be very protective over their little sisters." She rolled her eyes, and Arthur could tell Vincent had been a constant headache for her in many aspects. "I know Vin means well, but he's a bother. And he doesn't seem to get that Antonio likes penises more than an idiot likes a pencil. Anyway—let's move on, shall we?"

~{§}~

"Hang on, hang on—you did what?!"

Antonio smiled at Francis. "I said—"

"No, I heard you. What I meant to ask was, why would you do such a thing?"

"I thought it was nice?"

"Nice?" Francis facepalmed. "Antonio, dear, that wasn't nice."

"But—"

"Did you not stop to think that he may not notice?"

"…"

"Oh, boy, you are so stupid."

"…"

"You're supposed to be the smart one here, Toni."

"… I'm a goddamn idiot."

"Yes, yes you are. Now you'd better figure something out."

"… fuck… Oh, wait, I got a text."

~{§}~

After they finished all the paperwork, Emma and Vincent (or rather, Emma in behalf of both) had wished Arthur a happy stay and left, and Arthur had pretty much collapsed on his bed. It had been a long day; he'd unpack later.

Yawning, he reached for his backpack, which laid on the floor next to the bed, and searched for his phone inside it. However, the first thing his hand grabbed happened to be the wrapped piece of cast.

Arthur had almost forgotten about it already.

"It's a reminder," Antonio's voice said in his head.

A reminder that jumping off balconies was a terrible idea. Arthur already had a broken leg to remember that.

"Stupid," he mumbled, tossing the whole package into the trashcan.

It really was the stupidest parting gift he could have gotten.

So why did he suddenly feel so guilty?

"Oh, bollocks."

Seconds later, he was fishing it out of the trashcan and unwrapping it. Maybe he could get creative with it; paint it or something. Surely if he googled "what to do with a piece of cast" he'd get interesting results.

Then he finished unwrapping it, and nearly had a heart attack.

It had already been painted, but instead of having Van Gogh's Starry Night or a fancy signature or even a badly-drawn penis, it had a sequence of numbers that resembled way too much a phone number, followed by a phrase he had to reread a few times:

You're no longer my patient ;)

First, Arthur focused on breathing.

Then he put a lot of effort into not squeaking like a teenage girl at a Justin Bieber concert.

And then he pounced on his backpack and emptied it on the bed, desperately searching for his phone.

~{§}~

Desconocido: Antonio?

Yo: Sí, ¿quién es?

Desconocido: Uh… Sorry, not Spanish. It's Arthur.

Yo: AH!
Yo: THANK GOD
Yo: I take it you unwrapped my gift? n_n"

Arthur: Yes. That was a dick move.

Yo: Sorry… n_n"
Yo: Francis was just saying the same thing
Yo: Well, he said I was an idiot
Yo: BUT IT WORKED IN YOUR FACE FRANCIS

Arthur: I wholeheartedly agree with Francis, but perhaps don't tell him I said that.

Yo: Thisis francis I stole antonios phone
Yo: Excuse the grammr hes chasin me
Yo: Hes not generlly this stupid youll hve to forgive him
Yo: But given tht your two idiots in love im seting up a date for u two
Yo: Hes free tmrow
Yo: Hell pick yu up t noon
Yo: cnlabafle&$*#%/$"bavhjs
Yo: SORRY
Yo: I'm going to kill Francis =_=
Yo: (this is Antonio again btw)

Arthur: … yeah, I figured.
Arthur: Are you still taking me out tomorrow?

Yo: Do you want to?

Arthur: Yes.
Arthur: I'd love to.
Arthur: If you want, too, of course.

Yo: Yeah, I do, it'd be lovely n_n
Yo: I'm still murdering Francis, tho

Arthur: Don't.

Yo: Francis is reading this over my shoulder and he says he's touched you worry about his wellbeing

Arthur: I don't care about the Frenchman. Kill him, for all I mind.
Arthur: But we can't go on a date if you're in jail.

Yo: That's a solid argument
Yo: I'll see you tomorrow then?

Arthur: Yes.
Arthur: Looking forward to it.

"Awww," Francis cooed. "Aren't you the cutest?"

"You've got three seconds to run," Antonio warned, locking his phone, but when he turned to glare at him there was a happy smile on his face.

It'd been a long time since Francis had seen such a joyous look on him.

Still smiling, Antonio raised his hand and flicked Francis on the nose.

"Ouch!" Francis recoiled and rubbed his hurting nose.

"That's for stealing my phone. And this—"

Francis flinched, expecting another aggression, only to be pleasantly surprised when, instead, Antonio wrapped his arms around him and hugged him tightly.

"This is for being such a good friend."

Francis laughed gleefully and returned the hug. He knew what Antonio really meant to say: This is for taking matters into your own hands and setting my date with Arthur because it would have taken me ages to actually ask him out because we're both idiots.

"You're welcome," he said. "But I'll want every single detail of your date."

"Every single one? That might be a lot."

"Oh, I should hope so."

~{§}~

The following morning, Arthur was a nervous mess.

He changed clothes like ten times, combed his hair in six different ways, paced around the flat rehearsing in his head how he'd greet Antonio. At some point, he tried to do some reading to relax, but stopped when, after half an hour, he'd been staring at the same paragraph without absorbing anything.

When it was finally noon, too soon and too late and the same time, he felt like he was going to vomit his heart.

And when there was a knock on the door at ten past, he was suddenly terrified. So many things could go wrong! He wasn't ready! He shouldn't have changed clothes that last time, he looked better before! Was he actually going to go out with that hair?

Too late.

Arthur took a deep breath and opened the door.

Antonio was standing on the hallway. He was wearing a simple white shirt and jeans, a casual attire that combined with his messy hair. His stance was relaxed, but his green eyes gleamed in anticipation. "Hi," he smiled.

"Hi," he mimicked. "It's weird seeing you without your gown."

"It's weird seeing you without your leg in a cast," Antonio replied, cheekily winking at him.

Arthur laughed, all his worries washed away.

And the rest of the day was simply perfect.

Antonio had planned the date to the detail. He showed Arthur around, avoiding all the "disgusting touristic spots" and taking him instead to delightful hidden places not many knew about. He invited him for lunch at a nice little restaurant so that he may try "actual food for once, and not that garbage you have in England"; Arthur made a show of being offended, but in the end admitted that no, there was no place in England that could compete with Spanish food. Antonio had even planned ahead on where to stop for rest, knowing full well that Arthur's leg was still recovering.

Not for the first time, Arthur wondered if there was anything wrong with that guy.

And for the very first time, he thought that he wouldn't mind spending much more time with him. Perhaps only the rest of his life.

~{§}~

It was starting to get dark when they finally got back to Arthur's place.

Antonio insisted on accompanying him all the way to the door, and once there, Arthur had invited him in.

"I don't have much to offer you," he apologized as he opened the door. "Only a coffee."

"Oh, that's a terrible idea," Antonio laughed. "Unless you want to see me turn into a hyperactive squirrel."

That sounds very tempting, Arthur thought. What he said instead was: "Fuck, it's hot in here."

"You didn't leave a single window open, all the blinds are up, and the flat is facing west," Antonio analysed quickly. "Yeah, you basically turned the whole place into a massive oven."

"Cheers," Arthur grumbled, rushing to open the balcony doors as wide as he could. And then, because he was dying for some cool air, he stepped outside and breathed deeply. "God, that's better."

Suddenly, Antonio was behind him, and his voice sounded amused when he said: "Don't jump."

Arthur snorted. The teasing would never end, right? No problem, he could take it. He could even counterattack. (Quick mental note: recover João's number from the puzzle book and ask for more stupid anecdotes involving Antonio.) At that very moment, though, countering with another silly retort didn't seem like the most appealing option.

Standing there, on a seventh story balcony looming over the city, which was starting to light up, Arthur felt alive; he felt as if he could take the entire world. He felt braver than he'd ever felt before.

"Why would I jump?" he said, turning around to face Antonio. Before he could reply, he grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him a little closer. "All I want is up here."

Antonio's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He was clearly taken aback by the sudden move Arthur had made on him. Your pickup lines are improving, he had said not so long ago. "When did you get so smooth?" he asked now, an astonished grin on his face, but his focused eyes not leaving Arthur's.

Arthur shrugged and moved a little closer, his heart skipping a beat when he felt Antonio's arms around his waist. "I think you bring out the best in me," he replied.

Next thing he knew, Antonio's lips were on his, and Arthur didn't waste a second. He kissed back, wrapping his arms around Antonio's neck, pushing him closer, and lost himself in the kiss, the taste of his lips, the feeling of their bodies pressed together, the previously unknown soaring joy in his heart.

That was a goddamn fantastic kiss.

And it was only the first of many.


AN: And they lived happily ever after! :D I said this is the last chapter and that's true, but I plan to write an epilogue, so the story is not over yet. Just FYI.

Oh, and "to like something more than an idiot likes a pencil" is an actual expression we have here in Spain. I thought you might like to know that :P Also, the texting bit is read from Antonio's phone, which of course is in Spanish. It's pretty much obvious, but "yo" = "me" and "desconocido" = "unknown" (as in "unknown number").

Thanks for reading! Reviews are very welcome n_n