The World's Stage

Apology Accepted

Chapter Seven

Alrighty before I start, yes this is another little footnote, I got some rather interesting reviews on how I run my fanfiction. Yes, compromise is always a great thing, and believe me, I'm still running this show. I'm simply trying to please you guys as much as I can but believe me, I won't let that stop me from making a work I'm proud of. Regarding the review that says I shouldn't be bothered by the reviews of others, believe me, they are definitely not a bother. I enjoy my reviewers as much as I love writing, it makes me happy and so far, I've received nothing but beautifully written constructive feedback. And as a writer of this work, it helps truly. However, thank you for telling me that. I suppose I'm just trying to tell you, the reviews help me in a way I can't imagine, but the people's thoughts and wishes don't control my writing. Only I can.

Alright, I've been writing quite a bit recently, and I know very slow update (sorry), but I keep on gaining reviews that tell me, "Your writing is so detailed", "I love the characterization!", or "so deep!". First and foremost, thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you! But I want to explain some of my characterization.

Yao. He's the person I've 'changed' the most from the original work, and I...prefer the way I portray him. Remember, he's China. One of the biggest and strongest countries in the world. Aside from that, but mind you this is an idol AU, and this story happens in modern days. So with a modern setting I can only imagine Yao being a little more serious (I won't kill off his cute side, wait for that) especially since he's in some rather complicated stuff right now you can't imagine him being all happy and 'SHINATTY CHAN!". The modern world, and the dangerous and competitive entertainment industry doesn't have time for that. Therefore, Yao is a little more serious. He's direct a little I-do-things-by-myself kind of guy, he has secrets, and he's a logical thinker, but believe me, he's not cold. He comes off cold, but we all saw him take that punch for Arthur!

(Rant done)

Wait one more! Okay, really quickly, I know I write slow, I know my story is slow, I know. But wait. I was planning on making this chapter have two day's (fictional days) perfectly in this chapter so the next would be auditions where you meet the BTT and honhonhon France. But I saw I haven't updated in so long so I cut this chapter in two. Auditions will be in two or less chapter's, so please bear with me!

A screen flickered, pixels of blue and black hovered under one line.

'I know your secret'

"There are two more days until the auditions for 'The Beautiful World'! Of course I shouldn't be telling you this, but it seems the winner's of the previous competition, 'Nordic5' shall be competing again in hopes of earning the winning title!"

It's a different news reporter this time. A person whom none of the watchers know.

"Gossip says that the 'AXIS' and the 'Nordic5' will face head to head in an intense battle, fighting for first and second place! It is already known that the 'AXIS' first in sales; wooing girls with love songs and stealing hope from men, and the Nordic's whom sing energizing and spirit rising songs for all ages will be at a high advantage!"

Three men sit on a single couch. All of there faces dark in expression. They did not understand why the reporter did not mention their own group. Afterall, second place was not to far off from first. Mediocre and silver but it deserved merit in it's own way. For coming close, but simply not close enough.

Arthur sighs as he stares far off into the screen. His face reflecting all the doubts the other two men had.

"Two days," he sighs before rubbing the back of his neck. "Two bloody days."

The American beside him nods hesitantly, not exactly sure if he should comfort the man or be straight to the facts. Afterall, emotions did not change facts. Emotions clouded judgement and made you weak, because feelings and heartbreak were all tied to the heart. The very organ that told you whether you were scared, sick, or possibly dead. The thing that bound you to time, and that was a entertainers worst nightmare. Because everyone gets bored. The audience included. And that was the one thing Alfred worried about. The one thing that was hidden in the darkest places of his own heart. The worry of time. Fame saved him from the dark, money saved him from the poor, then what would save him from a diminishing loop of time? He wasn't sure when there time would be up, wasn't sure when there audience would no longer be there supporters but the audience to their persecution. And that's what scared him, the uncertainty of their futures no matter how long they grasped the rope that tied them to their careers. No matter how secure they were in there diamond cages.

"Yep...two days," Alfred stares at the screen in front of them, no longer listening to what the man was saying. He watched as the man moved enthusiastically, his mouth moving forming syllables that he recognizes. "Wow, it's going to be hot the next few days."

Both of the other men stare at him for a while before sighing. They stare ahead, there eyes drowning in the streams of blue and red. Something was missing. More so, someone was missing, and the mere miss in presence was aggravatingly gutted. Because Yao has become part of the lives. Engraved in every cup of tea they've willingly drank, engraved in every beautiful flourish of the handwritten calendar, engraved in the small space between the American and the Russian- engraved in their hearts and there minds. And yet they have never felt so apart. So apart in the small distance they shared. That distance followed by the door that closed them off. That connection that was once burning sizzling out. And they did that. They were the cause of the downfall of a friend, a comrade, a partner, and they regretted it. Regretted it when they watched as there friend became half his own spirit, and yet they wanted to avoid the responsibility. Parts of them screamed that they were innocent. Innocent of the crime but they all knew they weren't. They all played part in this murder, all played part in this mess.

"You've gone too far, Da?" Ivan sighs, "he's in his room now, probably brooding, I mean he has no more pills, exactly what you wanted." Ivan sends a cold glare to the two men, staring at the American especially.

"What happened to being a hero and saving the world? Please, can you even save those nasty things you yourself say?"

Alfred stares remotely ahead of him. Looking solemnly at the man who moves in pixelated steps. If he focuses hard he could see past the pixels almost being able to see beneath the screen. The random streams of colours that paint the picture of a colourful and lively broadcast. Ivan was right. He has gone overboard. And the worst of it was that it was due to his own anger. The anger that fueled him deeper than his righteous self during the confrontation. The anger that made the raw emotion in Yao spread until it was nothing but a wild fire amongst a hot burning coal. And he saw the hurt that lived in Yao, he saw as it ripped him apart and he saw the need to be saved, and yet he pulled away because he was a coward. Because he was scared of the very core question everyone had in their minds, why? Why was he destroying himself? And what? What was enabling himself to start his own self destruction? What made a proud man cripple, what made a proud man weak? It scared him as much as it confused him. But maybe he was always weak, he just hid it better. He always thought Yao was a fantastic actor.

"I know." Is all he says, and it's all that's needed for everyone to understand that he means it. It's just that they tried. Tried to help him, tried to be that family he needed and they have failed. Because they all came from broken pasts. All of them, they just didn't know it yet.

There is a moment of silence. Everyone parting their lips although they don't know what to say. Finally the British speaks.

"Yao really is too clever. It's almost detestable,"

"Agreed dude,"

"Nyet, I find it rather appealing, actually,"

The American chuckles the kind that high schoolers do when they figure out who likes who, and Ivan rolls his eyes, a ghost of a smile still on his lips. The very thought of the man enticed him. The man created a childish delight stemmed from a deep longing and sadness. It was so simply as it was complicated. Stupid as it was smart. He adored Yao in every way. He was not sure if it was admiration or more but he loved him. He loved everything, and that was the simple part. He loved how Yao stood so brightly in the front lines, the people's judgement being the bullets to the endless war. He loved how he sipped his tea. He loved how he gently used ink to create flaming letters. He loved every delicate and perfected action. But he loved the vulnerability to. He loved the hurt that went deeper and further than anything he's ever seen. He loved seeing him tremble in anger and rage, but most of all he loved those eyes. Those gold eyes that told more than not. The eyes that told him that even he had secrets. The eyes that stared right through him; seeing past the cold and the snow. He wanted to hold him endless, to sooth the hurt, the wound, the scar that lived in every moment Yao did. The scar that hurt and grew with every stifled breath. And so he had to pursue. A game of mouse and cat and he did not plan to lose.

"I suppose it is sometimes, however, I cannot believe he has already contacted the recording studio and has already received the rhythm. According to him, Matthew was not pleased but was pleasantly surprised when he told him that he would not need to get involved."

Alfred and Ivan nod in agreement. Both of them knowing how persuading Yao was. He was a good friend and some may think he was an even better businessman. Because he knew how to persuade people. He knew how to make something bad look good. Something stupid into something dangerously intelligent. He was the man who convinced producers, the man who convinced they're directors- the person who played between the invisible border of law. Ivan remembers how he has videotaped Alfred, complying with the Americans wishes and forwarding it to Yao. He never received an answer, and the email remained answerless for the entire night.

Because the man was working.

Alfred takes off his glasses, rubbing his eyes vigorously. He could only imagine the sheer determination it took to finish the lyrics and restart them to a selfish demand. His selfish demand. It was a bitter lesson learnt but a small part of him told him that it was fine, because no matter what, his team members would always listen- always do what he said. Always grudgingly follow his lead, and he secretly wanted it to be that way. He loved to lead as much as Yao did, loved being as opinionated as Arthur, and loved being as skeptical as Ivan. He loved being in the spotlight and that was a genuine passion. He loved telling people how much better he was, he loved it when people knew his name. He loved shining in the midst of boring dull crowds. He liked being that person who stood out and made heads turn. To put it simply, he loved being special. And that only made his fear of time grow. Time had a reputation to take good things away.

"Poor Yao Yao...and some people thought he did nothing but mop and get himself high on pills," Ivan stats bitterly, a crushing hole of coldness getting pierced into the blond's head. "When he did all this work. And because of him we now have a finished song, we just need to practice it, and add the dance. Perfect for two days time."

Arthur grits his teeth. Regret entering the depths of his pride. It pillaged in his heart, scorching his pride and burning it to memory. He regrets it all, as much as he regrets not being able to stop him from going this far to begin with. He was right, drinking was not far off from pill usage. They both were means of numbing the pain, one in a drunken stupor and the other in a dreamless sleep. Both had dangerous consequences. But even in this moment he could not see the pain, the logic behind the situation. He could not sense the rational reasoning behind downing an entire bottle and the mysterious reason why. He did not see it. He did not see the logic and did not see how Yao could do that. But he felt it. He felt the seriousness and the aura of a heavy guilt that was in the air the moment he uttered his last standing words. And that's what made him stop, that's what made him know he's gone too far. Yet he did not comprehend on any level both emotional and mental, and perhaps that was the problem. Because he did not feel the need to apologize.

Alfred sighs before grabbing his phone. "Either way, on the shared drive he uploaded the beat, he clipped a little message telling us to call Mattie to confirm that we're doing this." He pauses before scratching the back of his head, "I don't think Mattie's gonna be really happy to hear us, so let's play it cool' kay?"

Ivan nods, narrowing his eyes in a patronizing stare. What was cooler than the Russian winter? "Da. Let's do it then."

He leans closer to the American, watching as an expensive phone brand gets flashed in front of his eyes. He certainly liked flaunting his money.

The blond nods before quickly speed dialing there boss's number, it remains on speaker and slowly the sound of metallic ringing echoes through the room. It's a sharp string of staccato notes, each seeming out of tune and Arthur flinches.

"By the way Alfred, why do you call Matthew Mattie? He's our boss for heaven's sake!" Arthur questions, he never understood the unfamiliar closeness the two seemed to share. That bond that should not exist between coworkers, boneless people of higher standing. He stares at the Americans expression trying to find something he does not know or recognize. Just something other then that carefree smile. Something different, something special. He grimaces, remembering the first time he's seen Ivan carefully slip into the warmth of a unconditional love. He watched as Ivan changed in the slightest, the way that indestructible barrier shattered in mere seconds after seeing the Asian. The way all of Ivan's masks has slowly crumbled, not fully, but they were falling, and he would not let that happen to himself. He would not sacrifice a thriving career for that. More so, he would not let his endless facade go to a waste. He's already sacrificed to much and he would not lose anymore than he already has. He's lost his time, and his own identity, he would not gamble his heart in this game of popularity to. It was a lot easier then it seemed, but fright made many things complicated.

Alfred freezes for a moment before smiling the usual smile. It's a little more brighter this time, a little more practiced and a little more planned.

"Just a nickname."

Hesitation.

Suddenly a mellow voice resonates within the room. Green eyes leave a piercing blue eye stare.

"Hello? Matthew Williams speaking?"

"Uh hey Matthew! It's Alfred here!" Alfred shares a look with his fellow comrades. One of condescending patience. Matthew was an important man. A man with a good head on his shoulders but although he had that, he also had flaws. He was to mellow, to soft both outside and inside. He did not intimidate the people who had to be intimidated. He did not intimidate the critics.

"Oh Alfred, hello! Oh Alfred, I heard about the competition that Wang has told me about, eh what can I say? You...you never really asked."

There is moment of silence and Alfred shares an alarming glance at Arthur. Not exactly knowing how to apologize without taking anything back. In fact, he hasn't apologized for anything in a long time. Arthur takes the hint and quickly intervenes although not exactly knowing how to solve the problem.

"Ah so...so you've...heard…?"

The American tosses an exasperated expression at the Brit. Narrowing his eyes in the worst kind of surprise as he mutely claps, reeking of sarcasm and irritating sass.

Arthur simply throws his hands in the air, carefully trying not to create any sound. Afterall, static travelled far. His eyebrows etch into another frown the kind that say much more than his closed mouth does.

"Hello, Alfred you still there? Was that Arthur? Hello Arthur, as I was saying you guys haven't told me about the competition, and you all know I hate causing a ruckus. So once again I was fairly surprised when ehh Wang called last night telling me these sudden change of ehh..plans…"

"Uh right. I'm still here, oh hahahaha…" the laugh trails into nothingness and Ivan just watches the two. Casting patronizing and incredulous glares. Such fools. The way they stuttered made him want to laugh, how could they be afraid of such a man. Matthew Williams for vodka's sake. The person who did not have an opinion, or did not say one at least. The person who said sorry when firing an incompetent worker. The person who held too much mercy for his liking. And mercy was good in a way, mercy was good when you had the power to cut someone down. When they were scared and weak not when they were strong and standing. Matthew left a weak impression, and first impressions always mattered.

"Right Alfred. Anyway, what I'm getting at is the same thing I was trying to tell Wang the other day. I'm sorry but I don't like the idea and I am only glad that I will not be too much concerned in whatever this is."

Suddenly, Matthew seemed so much more rushed, as if he was at a loss for words and air.

"Eh...I just don't really like this idea, and it's really upsetting that you guys haven't informed me of this before hand, and you all know I really dislike being placed in the center of the spotlight."

"I know Matth-"

-And that Wang and I had quite a heated argument yesterday, mostly him insisting about the competition, and I had plans for you guys to release another album, and you guys are only second still…"

"Matthew list-"

"And, you know the 'AXIS' and other bands are growing closer to our sales, and, and, I j-"

His voice is cut off and only the sound of a beeping circuit is left. Ivan's hand gently placed on the red button that states that you would want to end a call. Everyone looks up at Ivan in horror, mostly the shock that he had the audacity to handle the boss's words so lightly. Ivan looks up slowly, a small rueful smile on his lips. His fingers leaving Alfred's phone, staining it with fingerprints.

"Ah, he was talking to much." He pulls away, dusting off his shoulders as if dust would sprinkle off. Carefully curling his fingers together when he's done.

Alfred and Arthur stare at each other for a while before sending a thoughtful nod at the Russian. The talk had gone a lot worse than they had planned. Matthew seemed incredibly upset if not disappointed and betrayed and they felt guilty because they were the ones who have committed the crime. But listening to there directors orders was no different then living a life of a jailor. Captured, confined, a person whose only view was the one within the cage. But there were people around them. Other people in other cages some knowing and some indifferent. Some people who loved the cage, loved the rules, and others who had no clue that the world was much bigger than the small space given. People who were smart, and people who played the fool.

"Well, now...now that that's done," Arthur laughs nervously his laughs turning into a brief coughing fit. "Well, that was certainly...smashingly well done."

Alfred nods, slowly sliding his phone back into his pockets. He ignores the slight vibrations his phone gives and the green light that alerts him of new messages.

"Matti- Matthew...haha he sure is, sure is, wow, he really is pissed at us!" Alfred's mind works at incredible speeds, he skips forgotten thoughts often leading into broken phrases when he's shocked. He was shocked. Because only now was the consequences of following with this competition really setting in. Only now was he realizing how hard it would be to gain liberty. And liberty was a right everyone should have.

There is an incredible length of silence before Alfred speaks up. His mind trying to work out the procedures of work. What he had to do, what he had to finish, and what he had to accomplish.

"Well...I'm just assuming, but I think we should start practicing the song together, we can go to the music studio. In the afternoon, we should head to the dance studio and I'll start teaching you guys the dance."

"What about Yao?"

"Da. What about Yao?"

The American shrugs, his arms sluggishly hanging by his sides.

"We can just sing it while taping it, and then send him the vid. I mean, he could practice himself in his room when we're gone, he'll know his lines."

Ivan narrows his eyes skeptically, shaking his head, "Don't you think we should wait for Yao to feel better?"

Alfred pauses before shaking his head, "Well we can't wait forever! Exactly as you said, two day's Ivan. Two." He points along finger to the hallway behind him. "He has a choice Ivan. A choice to get up and work, or to stay confined in his bedroom, and eithers fine really, but that doesn't mean we have to be there to see him finally leave his room, see him finally sucking it up!"

Arthur frowns, not liking the hostility that the usually friendly American harboured. But it was true, and logic really did not change facts, and he needed Ivan to see it. He needed the Russian to see the logic, not to be blind of a silly chase. He coughs again, whispering heavy curses under his breath. This whole situation was ridiculous.

"And you know what, it is my fault, I know it is, I just...he just...I don't know what to do, I just really wish that none of it happened, and that he would just come out and act all normal. And maybe then I will apologize." The American glowers at Ivan. He stands tall although his expression seemed nothing but confident. Ivan stares back, trying to find what the American is trying to say, what he's trying to express. Was it regret? Was it genuine sorrow? Or was it just frustration at being delayed something that they all wanted?

The Russian closes his eyes. Staring blankly at the television screen. "Right. Da. I understand," he opens his eyes once again, pupils distant although nobody notices. "Let's get to it then right?"

Arthur carefully nods, hesitantly standing up and walking over to the house keys that sat woefully one the counters. Alfred following although he exchanges a remorsefully stare at the Russian who stood up stiffly behind him. He missed the warmth that he usually had beside him. He missed Yao, but not just that, he also missed the days where there group was less popular. When things were just for fun and not a job, not a contracted deal. When they were just humans finding there way through music, through the beat that at the moment were just verses of random words. When love was genuine, when warmth was given freely, when not everything was a fake on the front cover of a pop magazine.

"Yao?" Arthur calls out loudly. "We are leaving now. We'll be at the music studio all the way until the afternoon."

Alfred quickly interrupts. "I'm sorry Yao!" He swallows hard, mouth open although he didn't know what else to say.

"Get better soon Yao Yao," The Russian calls out the softest. A strange fondness on the tip of his tongue.

As the two leave the door and walk down to the nearest exit, Alfred quickly snips in. "See you there?" There's a pause, and he's almost certain that by now Yao could hear his voice. "I'll...I'll buy more pills on the way if I could."

That's when he hears the door bang open. The metal fringes colliding against the concrete wall. A small man comes out, his hand trying to button the last of his cuffs. Yao quickly marches out, his eyes looking rejuvenated of a good sleep and a good rest. Although the light was not fully there, it was enough to make the American smile.

"Y-Yao dude! You're alive!" Not knowing what to say he quickly approaches the man, examining him. He ignores the distant shouts that tell him to hurry up.

"Save it- aru, you talk so loud..," Yao holds his head up, rubbing soothing circles on his temple. "Anyone would wake up to that voice.." that horribly sorrowful voice. That voice that spoke volumes of regret that even Yao could not withstand. It reminded himself to much of the stat he was in right now.

Alfred stares in amazement, the little man dazzling him beyond comprehension.

He's not to sure how long he stares but suddenly those golden eyes are on him again. Impatience twitching on his annoyed eyebrows.

"Well, hurry up! They're waiting for us." Yao quickly rushes out of the duplex. Catching the eyes of a Russian who quickly starts to stride his way. Alfred quickly follows, leaving the complex and watching as the door locks itself. He watches as Ivan quickly walks to the two, seeing past the blond in entirety.

"I accept your apology." He hears loudly. He stares at Yao who cracks him a small smile. The kind that show him he's trying with every fiber of his body.

As Yao walks away with Ivan he hears a faint whisper, almost not catching it due to the cheerful chatter of the Russian.

"And save the pills. I don't want them."

There is not much to say as they walk together to a relieved looking Britain. So Alfred simply smiles.

The genuine kind.

How was it? Ehhh? There we go boss Matthew, wait a second, Arthur and the rest don't know Alfred's connection to Matthew?! His own brother?! See the plot's coming along now? What's up with the strange beginning? Will this happiness last for long? Heh, who knows right? If you look closely, I mean, very closely there's something else going on. Tell me, do you see it? Haha..,