"Arthur, are you sure we're supposed to be here?"
"No, Toris, we aren't"
"Then why are we?"
"Because it's fun isn't it?"
"No, it's not. We're going to get in trouble! Come on, let's go back to the hotel"
"...tch, killjoy. Fine then, let's go"
Arthur Kirkland packed away his cans of paint, and followed Toris out of the alleyway. Others might call him a vandal but he prefferred the term 'artist'. After all, he never wrote those 'tags' other people did on walls. He always put time and effort into his work, even though it wasn't always appreciated by society.
Arthur was working on a very special piece now. You see, he was in London because apparently he'd recieved great grades so he was chosen to attend this meeting thing where the best students from all over the world gathered and discussed boring study-related stuff. Why he was chosen, he'll never know, but it was a wonderful opportunity to escape the dullness of his hometown and find some blank walls that needed personalisation and colour.
As he was sneaking out of the hotel, he had the good fortune to bump into Toris, a Lithuanian boy who'd recently arrived, so decided to take him as a lookout. Just in case.
Well that was a mistake. Arthur didn't even get any work done. But whatever, might as well go back to the hotel. Rumour has it the Americans were arriving soon.
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Alfred stood up groggily. The flight had taken ages and despite hardly moving for hours on end, he still managed to get tired. He made his way out of the airport and headed over to what looked like the right place. A middle aged man with glasses was holding a sign 'American study exchange group' and a small crowd of teenagers was already sitting around looking bored and tired.
"Uh sir, is this where I go for the international study thing? I got offered a place."
The man looked Alfred over with humour in his eyes and handed him a pamphlet.
"Ya talkin' 'bout this?"
"Yeah."
"Alfred F. Jones, yeah? You're the last un to 'rrive. Come on. We need ta get a move on and get ta the hotel."
"Uh, sure."
Alfred replied lifelessly and followed the group onto a white minibus. It seemed everybody had already found a companion or a group and were chatting merrily the whole bus ride. Alfred would've probably made some friends too, had he been his normal cheery self, but the past few days events had changed him and his happy demeaner. Now, all he could do was look out of the window and think.
Much too soon, the bus arrived at an expensive-looking hotel. Very classy and shiny; the whole nine miles.
Alfred was far too caught up in his thoughts to care much though or be impressed. He walked into the lobby with no enthusiasm, got his room number, and set off. Apparently he was sharing with someone. Poo. Still, better than nothing.
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Arthur snuck in through the kitchen door. Toris went in the front way. Chicken. Nobody noticed they were gone anyway so all was good. Today was quite tiring for Arthur and he was desperate to get some sleep. He slunked up to his room but stopped in the doorway. Something was very off.
The door was open when he arrived, for one.
There was a bag lying on the spare bed in the corner of the room.
Also lying on the bed was a blonde presence, wearing daggy jeans and a grey hoodie.
"The actual fuck?"
No reaction.
"Hello? Earth to you. What are you doing in my room. Are you that American git the organisers have put me with? Oi, answer for fucks sake!"
Arthur walked over to the bed and squatted down, looking at the newcomers face and poking his shoulder.
It was no use, Alfred was fast asleep.
"Huh? Asleep are we? Not for long."
Arthur pushed the American out of the bed, to which he yelped and sat up, rubbing his head, confused.
"What are you doing in this room?"
A young, blond man with jade green eyes and more than a couple of piercings was looking down at him, and boy, was he irritated.
" Uh. I think i'm meant to be here. The name's Alfred f. Jones, nice to meet you!"
Alfred said, attempting a smile and a cheery tone, as if to make the atmosphere less tense. Unsurprisingly, it didn't work.
"Dear god. Hoorah! No more privacy!"
Arthur muttered sarcastically.
"But eh, whatever. Just don't touch my belongongs and I won't touch you, got it?"
Alfred couldn't thnk of anything to say so instead just nodded.
"Good"
Arthur said, seeing the nod. He then lay down on his bed and proceeded to open up a book. Pride and Prejudice, if you will. He quite liked that one story. It was written with talent, was a timeless classic and even incorporated some humour into it's lines-something books written in that age hardly ever did. But before he could read more than a few pages, that darned American started coughing.
And coughing.
And coughing.
And coughing.
"FOR FUCKS SAKE, SHUT THE BLOODY HELL UP, WILL YOU? GO OUTSIDE OR SOMETHING!"
The coughing stopped. It seemed Arthur had scared the poor git into silence. Hopefully it stayed that way...silent.
He kept on reading, completely engrossed in the story when a poke to the shoulder shook him back to reality.
It was Alfred.
Arthur grit his teeth in frustration.
"What do you want?"
He spit out.
"Um, Arthur, is it? Well i'm new here, you know that though, and I was wondering if you could tell me about what we're doing later on and stuff. I don't think they'll keep us in the hotel forever."
The Brit sighed loudly. It couldn't hurt to tell the brat about the circumstances. Might even get him off his back.
"Yes, we're not going to stay in the hotel, thank god. They're organising apartments for each of us. We're all going to be in the same building though. They're probably going to move us in two days or so. Now, could you please shut up, stop being so bothersome and entertain yourself somehow? Thank you."
Alfred nodded. So that's what was going to happen. He wanted to ask Arthur about more, but he probably wouldn't get much of an answer considering the Englishmans' temperament and the fact that he too, was a student and most likely was confused as well.
Nothing to do but go to sleep then. Alfred hadn't brought any form of entertainment with him. His only clothes were the ones he usually carried as spares in his backpack. All the rest of his belongings had burnt down with the house. And the cat, Missy. He missed her so much. Her soft grey fur, the knowing face, the way she would nuzzle up to him and purr. It reminded him of what kind of situation he was really in. It reminded him to study hard here for the next two months, because if he didn't get a foothold in England, the consequences when he returned to America would be dire.
A/N
PLease don't kill me.
I am so so so sorry for updating this late. I started writing this chapter straight after I published the first, but then writers block appeared. I kept saying "I can do it tomorrow" over and over again, so sorry.
*hides in shame*