The World's Stage

Secret's

Chapter Nine

PLEASE READ:

Before I start, I want to explain the lyrics in the previous chapter in a condensed paragraph. As you can see the lyrics continue with something like, "No not today, _" well, with these lyrics (written by Yao) I wanted to capture how Yao believes that at one point if not sooner than later, there group will dissolve or conflict will come. Just not...today. Yao is trying to voice out how he believes and hopes, but he knows that all good things come to an end. He's simply saying that "although we will crumble and fall with time, today is not the day we will". Although the lyrics sound dreadful, it's incredibly realistic and I thought suited Yao's realistic point of view.

Feeling the need to say this again, Yao is a complicated character. He has charisma and character and I dislike hiding it under the original personality that came with him. Yes, he's cute in the original, but I wanted to somehow amplify the reality and modern setting the story takes place in. No one in this modern world could be as carefree, lighthearted as Yao. Even Alfred. Yao is China. And China is one of the biggest and strongest global powers in the world, I need to SHOW that somehow, and not defringe it under a complete cute male persona. In this world Yao is dangerous. He's serious, quiet, and mature. He's a threat who struggles with personal issues just like any human being. He's on the top of the entertainment industry and he needs to be strong. He's faced a realistic betrayal and the scar on his back doesn't exist, but is replaced with a mental scar that marks him forever. However, through that thick stubbornness, he's also an airhead and when worried he could be a complete idiot.

Since I'm doing this with Yao, I might as well explain everyone.

Alfred. Alfred is probably the man I changed the least. He's aloof, funny, laid back, but I wanted to ingrain a seed of dangerous seriousness in him. He loves money, and he loves being the dominant in power. Most of all, he loves the attention he gets, and that may be the only reason he continues with his job. However, underneath that all, he genuinely worries and stresses a lot about certain things. He has a phobia of time due to the fact that he knows that the spotlight on him may only be momentarily, and could leave him at any time. (He hates that lack of control). Overall, he's the man who has a lot more seriousness and dread within him then one would think. Alfred's America. There's a reason why people respect him.

Arthur. Oh Arthur, always coughing isn't he? Haha. Arthur, he's the man who genuinely dislikes people. Rather, I stem this on his introverted and rueful humour. And due to that, I've created him to be a man who has a alternative 'face'. The man whose exactly like him except perfect, and he desires everyone to see him like this. However, he also detests himself for that and greatly wishes that he could simply be himself around people. He's logical, almost as cold hearted as Yao, but what differentiates him from Yao is that he so calls, 'loses control'. As proven in the chapter where he rushes to defend his friend, he believes the act of kindness was more of a clumsy fault rather then a good deed. He's a kind man at heart. A man who felt what it was like to be helpless therefore blocks himself from ever doing anything that may lead him feeling that again. Such as, love.

Ivan. He's twisted. Ivan Braginski had already a two face personality in the original version of him. But in this version of him he's a strong mixture of both. His playful side is removed and what lays is a taunting, naive, childish side that sits within him. He's selfish, and is a lot like Alfred. He wants what he wants, and in all means he will get it. By force or not. However, he's also mysterious, he doesn't allow a connection that comes from outsiders. No, only he can in force that, and well, to put it bluntly I wanted to make him a hopeless romantic. The kind of man who falls for the brightest star, the man who loves strong things and cherishes the weak side to. He's a lot like Alfred in this aspect, he thinks a lot behind his mask of indifference, but through it all he means well. He would never want to hurt anybody, and his greatest wish is to simply be accepted by the people he accepts. (You get me?)

DONE RANT SORRY

The first wisp of scented air was all Arthur needed to wake up. It smelt of strong coffee and his tired nerves jolted as the caffeine elucidated the feeling of awareness. He yawns, opening the blinds before running a calloused finger in his hair, letting the messy tendrils curl momentarily on his finger. Slowly he pulls his fingers away, scratching his neck as he kicks opens the wooden door that remained open throughout the night. His body feels heavy, as if somehow the sweat that remained on his body was replaced with a massive weight that chained him to the ground with newfound aggression. His steps are slow and he once again inhales the highly intoxicating smell of cocoa beans. The soft touch of vanilla doesn't lay hidden and only amplifies the effect it does on him. It makes his head spin in confusion. Why coffee? Cautiously, he makes his way to the kitchen. The morning ray's stinging his eyelids as he presses them close, opening them to the sound of a fleeting giggle.

"Yao?" he quickly whispers, his voice raspy from repeating lyrics over and over until they were burned into his memory. His body slowly leans against the corner that rounded the bend connecting to the kitchen. Glimpse of ebony and ivory strands dance in his vision. The soft sound of breathing and murmurs reach his ears through his fatigue.

"Ya-" He says louder than the last before quickly shutting his mouth. Yao laughs although the sound falls mute as it transfers into the Britain's ears. His eyes trail to the Russian who lurks beside him, shoulder to shoulder as he whispers something that causes the Asian man's face to rile up in glee. Although it looked fresh, the sound of laughter quickly fell and soon a face of deep despair crosses the man's face, the heavy weight of a short recovery still obvious.

It was beautiful. It was cruel, and he found himself loathing his own mind that subdued thoughts of a sweet romance. The haunting memory of blue eyes penetrate deeper into him then anything, and he watches the two unfold in there short happiness. It was disappointing almost. Disappointing how such strong men could crumble within the pinnacle of love. He frowns as he sees the genuine livid emotion that sparked within the lilac eyes. As they passionately stole glimpses of the man's back, as he carefully touched the man almost as if he was created out of china and would break if pushed too far. And Yao would. In this state he would. In this time he would. He was indeed like a china doll, if grabbed onto too hard he would shatter and leave a horrible gash within the holder's hand. A reminder that the holder has failed to capture the heart of the petit china mannequin.

Suddenly he feels violet eyes pierce his own. Ivan's face deflated of any emotion. Simply a stare that burns and brittle's from within. Arthur casts one of his own indifferent glares, getting distracted by Yao's back turned to him. However, slowly his eyes reach cool amethyst again, and they look different this time. They looked endearing. A stare that begged for him to leave before the Asian once again turned around. It spoke volumes of an interrupted happiness, begging him to leave, asking him if he would really kill his momentary joy. Would he? Some part of him tells him he shouldn't. This part of him pushes him to leave, to pretend he never saw the fond glances and fleeting touches. This part of him believes and hallucinates. Putting himself into one of those silly moments. Moments of joy and love. And that part of him almost wins, almost. But his logic wages a stronger fight against his heart just like Yao's, and his stare becomes one of uncrushable pity. The love is only one-sided, and Ivan once again remains deftly still and stiff. He didn't care. No, he chose not to care and with that he cast his best smile, making the Russian frown in utter disappointment.

And for a moment he was disappointed in himself as well, disappointed that he couldn't swallow his sick pride, couldn't allow his sweltering jealousy to pass and let the two unfold in there short blissful moment. But what could he do? Did he really have a choice? A dark thought reprimands him, he always had a choice. He just never took the right one.

"Yao! Coffee this time?" His voice rings within the eerie room, and the Asian man quickly turns around almost tripping at the close proximity of the Russian. His face reddens before he looks at the Brit.

"Arthur! I didn't see you there, I apologize," he pauses before frowning, "No, I didn't brew this coffee, Ivan did. He believes that it will caffeinate me more than tea." the man rolls his eyes before smiling. The kind that left him looking relaxed and rekindled.

"I'm not wrong am I?" Ivan laughs coldly before throwing a glance at Arthur, it's cold and rivals the snow in Russia. It felt of a mouthful of blood chilling ice and witty blades of harsh wind that seemed to seep into his body. He was as cold as he looked and Arthur grins ruefully.

"Right. Well, the auditions are today…" Arthur trails and narrows his eyes, searching the room for baby blue eyes. He raises his eyebrows, one arched while the other sat closer to his eyelid.

Yao follows his pupils before shaking his head. "Alfred's still in his room. Perhaps the intense training yesterday really tired him?"

Arthur snickers before shaking his head doubtfully, "I highly doubt it. I'll go check on him." He walks slowly never leaving the deep pewter eyes that stare at him with a strange level of intensity. He pauses before smiling again, his eyes half closed lazily.

"Oh and Yao? Tea for me please, I really just hate the sight of coffee." with that he left, shaking his head as his small chuckles filled the hallways. He was only teasing although he admits that he teased the wrong man at the wrong time. Ivan was distant compared to the others, he held onto his mysteriousness as a flag of superiority. Only then did he realize he knew nothing about the other. He knew the little things, he knew he hated the cold, and he had an obsession with sunflowers. He knew he wore scarfs that protected him from an imaginary cold, and that he may even love Yao. He knew these things but those were the things that the Russian made known. These were the things Ivan let himself show to the world. The things that he wanted them to see. The box of information that contained nothing more then a few phrases about his love for sunflowers. The small wrapped box he gave to everyone. Even Yao fell condemned to this small asset.

He reaches the door to the Americans resting place and knocks quietly. "Alfred?"

There's no sound and for a moment he could only hear a muffled sound.

"It's me…" he chooses his words carefully. "Arthur. It's me."

He waits for a second before sighing. "Bloody git...I'm coming in alright? Don't scream or anything..."

Arthur grumbles as he pulls open the door, immediately stepping over the large piles of clothes left on the ground. Expensive brands on the ground lay effortlessly despite the huge numbers on their tags. For a moment he doesn't see the man who lays surrounded in bundles of blankets, wrapping them around him until he's nothing more than a sack of lifeless fabrics.

"Alfred?" He kicks a large sock out of his way before sighing as the bundle moves slightly. He pushes it slightly to the side, watching as straw coloured strands of hair get exposed to the light, creating a deep vibrant gold. Blue eyes meet his own and for a strange moment he feels his maternal instincts kick in. The regret of ever being rude to the American chewed on his heart.

"Arthur…" The small round face exposed says, and Arthur watches Alfred pout childishly, noticing how he's slowly biting his lips. Chewing his lip slowly, deliberately. His face is hued red, and Arthur notes how he's actually nervous. He may not know a lot about Ivan but he did know a lot about Alfred. He knew the little things- the ones he found were important, he knew how he took his coffee, he knew how he chewed on his lips and cheek when he was nervous, he knew how he dreamt of an ideal romance filled with pretty girls and money. He knew how his smile always seemed a little tilted to the right, and he knew how behind his left ear held a minuscule mole. He knew all these things and yet there connection has always been an emotional rollercoaster. They had there ups and there downs, maybe more downs then ups. But all the fights they had together created there beautiful harmonization. They're functionality together, they knew what the other hated, liked, and loved. They couldn't be more perfect yet more flawed.

"Arthur you look...so dumb from down here" The high voice stats, causing him to blink out of his thoughts.

"Why you little…" he starts,

A sudden sharp laugh erupts from the bundle and Arthur stares, his eyes wide in surprise. Stopping his sentence abruptly he narrows his eyes, muttering a string of silent curses.

"Haha, oh Arthur, you always find a way to make my day…" Alfred chuckles before growing serious, the biting on his lip continues, and the British man sits in the silence, for some reason he finds the eerie room comforting and he takes the time to watch the light reflect off of the Americans hair.

"Arthur?"

"Hm?" He whispers softly, edging his fingers closer to the gold strands. Almost….

Suddenly Alfred thrusts himself out of the blankets, they land promptly on the ground, joining the heap of forgotten riches.

"I don't feel too well…" Alfred chokes up between biting his lips. "Not physically, just... I feel pent up emotionally for some strange reason. Not cool right?" He speaks quickly, spewing out his feelings at such a fast pace it was almost overwhelming.

Arthur stares at the American in mild surprise, eyes wide, and to his own surprise he smiles. A fond smile that seemed to appear by instinct. It felt almost as if he was talking to a young fan, slow, gently, and tantalizing but he knew it was different. He wasn't perfect in Alfred's eyes. Nor was it the other way around.

His mind flicks back to the ranting American, watching him pout in unease and sadness.

He understood the feeling. He sympathized a lot, however he knew the emotions that ran through him were different then the Americans. Alfred was nervous. Scared. Insecure. While his own held more negative affects. His was regret, guilt, worry. The emotion that ebbed away at your heart, gnawing it of emotion and chewing off the bits that mattered. The emotion that filled every crevice and cranny with a deep, dark despair. The kind that made him eat on his insecurities, the emotion that was the pinnacle of his fake mirage.

"Don't worry." He whispers softly only for the American to hear and he surprises the other by softly running his fingers through his hair. His fingers taking in the time to feel the fluffiness of the smooth curls.

For a moment everything is quiet but it is soon interrupted by a fit of small coughs, and only then does Alfred blink in awareness.

"W-what are you doing?! You don't even know what I'm talking about!" Alfred protests, although he doesn't move away. Suddenly, his body is shoved against the Brit's chest and he yelps in surprise. Arms already trying to push out of the tight grasp.

"Arthur!-"

"It will be alright Alfred. We'll get through this together. We'll all be fine, promise."

Arthur tightens his grip, hugging him like how a parent would do to a terrified child. Only then does Alfred know that Arthur did indeed understand what he was going through. He felt the wave of solemn understanding that only a real victim could procure. He was scared. Unsure of what to come during and after the competition and that terrified him. He couldn't see a way to predict what was to come. To secure his team's success. He couldn't be a hero.

Not the hero in the magazines or the commercials, but the hero for his team. The backbone of every lyric sung with passion and intensity. The person who directed while everyone created the plans. He needed to be that leader. Not for him but his team.

So in that moment he let himself get gently chided like a child, he let himself get cradled like a small boy, and let his hair get gently patted on. Yet through it all, he couldn't shake the feeling that the sudden affection wasn't just due to his own distraught.

And did it bother him?

Of course not.

"Right. So remember, left, right, right, left, left, half turn."

"We got it Alfred, aru!"

"Da, da, da…"

"One more time and I'll slit your damned tongue."

Yao rolls his eyes searching for his phone in his pockets. A small bickering fight already commencing between the two dark blondes.

"Do you guys know where my…," he quickly empties out his pocket a look of worry crossing his features. Only empty candy wrappers touch his probing fingertips. "Where my phone is?"

The others all shake their head in turn, while Ivan remains silent. His memory brings himself to the music studio, to how he caught Yao in the act of staring murderously at his phone. His eyes narrow in suspicion. What was his little Yao Yao hiding?

"Do not worry Yao, you don't need the phone at this instance, da? Simply rely on our devices, da?" He say's, prying the other to stare and meet his gaze. His eyes searching for what truly was wrong.

The Asian man freezes, a petrified look taking over his features. "Right. Right. Right." He stops for a while and Ivan sees how he's trying to convince himself that everything is alright. How a flicker of worry remains in his eyes as the Chinese man continues fidgeting with his hair. His golden eyes glistening and burning intensely into a shade of deep ember. The Russian smiles, a hard look in his eyes, did he smell a secret?

"Let's go guy's! We have an audition to make!" Alfred exclaims, already parading to the side of the door. Keys in hand as he swirls them on his finger, ignoring the indifferent stare he receives from a partially cold looking pair of emerald eyes.

"Right, right, right...you guys go on ahead-aru...I need to find my...phone." A transfixed mask of worry gets cast on his face and the two blondes only cast a strange glance. They didn't understand the worry, and for once they agreed with the Russian. They didn't have time. And no cell phone or friend could replace the rushing adrenaline that plummeted them to run to the very auditions. For a moment they were frustrated even. The feeling of a bubbling frustration reaching their heads, and only a pained past told them to press their lips shut. Shutting their nasty remarks as a way to prove that they have learnt from the scars of a bitter mistake.

"Alright…" Alfred says softly, grumbling as he rubbed the short hairs on his neck. He could see Arthur muttering a string of soft curses, grumbling words such as, 'tardiness' and the act of preparation. "Then...We'll just leave now. You know the way?"

Yao disregards the concern blankly, his hands already waving at them as a strained smile twists his lips into a bleak distracted curve. "Yes, yes, yes…"

Alfred and Arthur once again share a glance, there eyes holding the message that doesn't transfer through words. It was almost heartwarming despite the situation. It just showed how well they understood each other.

"Well then, we'll get going. Ivan?" Arthur says plainly, sparing a glance at the silent Russian. Ivan returns it in an aggressive glare, clearly still upset over what happened earlier. However he quickly nods, stiffly rubbing off dust motes on his shirt. Arthur realizes that that's another useless thing that Ivan did when nervous or agitated. He swiped at his shoulders pretending to wipe off the invisible negative emotions that he may be feeling. As if it could magically infuse within the dust that actually flies off.

The three make their way to the door, all of them glancing casually back at the Asian man who's already burying his head in the lavish drawers of the kitchen. As if his phone would be there.

"Bye...Yao?" Alfred says quizzically, his back arching as he watches the man flip open a pot's metal lid. A languid sigh all that comes from him.

Arthur simply shakes his head, shrugging. He's seen worst absurd things in his life.

The door shuts behind them quietly, and almost immediately does Yao stop flipping through old kettles and woks. His eyes regaining the seriousness that never left but stayed hidden within his worried orbs. His strained smile already nothing but a grim line. He had things to do.

He walks to his room, yanking the door so hard that it hits the wall in a loud eruption. His feet creating a irregular beat that sounds both dreadful and adrenaline pumping.

He wasn't stupid no, he was brilliant, and he knew that. What was better was that he used his brilliance as a motive to get things done. Good or not. Evil or pure, he used it and it always worked. Always. Most of the time. Not this time.

He frowns in disgust as he recovers his phone where he remembers it. It's exactly where he last left it in a exhausted wake. On the floor, facing the ceiling battery almost dead due to it being left on for the entire night.

He faces it, kneeling to the ground to pick it up. The only emotion in his eyes is the bleak overdrive of panic and worry. Cold sweat starting to form on his forehead. Why has it come to this?

He could break his phone. He could. And he could risk letting all his own sins slowly crawl and make there way underneath the sizzling light. He could call his family to pack up, to leave and move forever. Hidden away so no news man or reporter could find them. He could do so many things and yet he knew the man on the other side was playing this game with him because he knew he would win. And he has. He's already moved his chess pieces in a formation that already left him breathless and cornered. And unless he truly wanted his secrets to come out he would have to sacrifice something of greater importance; his dignity. That was his only move available. He frowns, what was better, surrendering or dying?

He slowly walks back to the TV room, his heart hammering in his chest. The remainder 4% wouldn't take him far even if he left with the others, he slowly taps in his password, it being a ridiculously long code of underscores and numbers.

His heart seems to stop when a voiceless conversation pops up on his screen, a string of chats with only three messages. He shivers, thankfully there were no more.

Slowly and hesitantly his finger hovers over the button that tells him if he wanted to trash the emails. His breath shallows reminding himself he had to act accordingly. He had to act smart. So he doesn't. He pulls his fingers away slowly, his finger twitching as if it had a mind of his own. This was proof. Evidence. Even if it was against himself. Even if when the time came, it would only prove how he was in the wrong.

"What are you reading Yao Yao?" A wisp of breath tickles his neck.

He turns around, swiftly and agile, facing Ivan's face that is a mere centimeters away. He drops his phone in the process the sound of metal touching wood creates an eerie echo that sings out.

"I-Ivan?!" He squeaks, face red in not embarrassment but shame. Smiling, Ivan nods at the sound of his name, one eyebrow slightly raised as he slowly bends down to pick up the phone. Yao closes his eyes, trying to press the anxiousness away. The screen faces the ceiling still blinking rather vividly.

Please don't read it, he thinks. His eyes mortified and his lips trembling. But Ivan doesn't, and he picks up the phone without leaving his fear stricken eyes. A small smile still plays on his lips but it's a little more serious this time. A little more meaningful and all the more tantalizing. He knew this kind of smile, it meant business.

"T-thanks" he says, trying to calm down before quickly snatching his phone back, shoving it deep into his pockets. His nails digging into his flesh almost drawing blood as he clenches his two hands in fists.

"What are you doing…" he trails, examining the Russian's face, trying to identify the meaning behind the twinkle in his eyes, and the cold smile. "...back?"

The Northerner doesn't blink when he answers, and the Eastern man takes the time to turn away, quickly walking to the door that leads to the outside world.

Ivan remains where he is, standing back straight with eyes still deep and penetrating. "To help you find your phone da? But it seems that I'm to late." The man shakes his head sorrowfully, an extreme pity crossing his features.

Yao nods slowly, hoping that he wouldn't need to converse any further. He slips his shaking fingers onto the door handle latching onto them before he feels the familiar strong pull yank him back, his eyes flashing in surprise while he screams in shock. His arms instinctively try to claw at the door handle, he kicks and yells mild profanity.

"Ivan!" He gasps, panting as if he was tired, "What are you doing! Get off me!" He yelps in surprise as he is suddenly pressed into the mans chest, the scent of salty sunflower seeds and lavender reach his nose. "Iv-"

"What are you hiding from me?" The voice that was once bubbly is lowered into a unrecognizable pitch. Was he always like this? So grown, so strong? He remembers when they first met. Ivan was so innocent and naive, to scared to get too deep into conflict. He was a learner, a follower. Since when has things changed? Then again, time had the effect to change people. Like himself, when has he been so dishonest?

His face betrayals nothing while his insides scream. He knew. Ivan knew. Well, Ivan didn't know what it was but he knew that something was off, and that was the beginning of knowing anything. His heart lurches. The only thing that brings him back as his own heart, pounding like it was the last time. Trying to overcome this paralyzing fear.

"I'm not hiding anything from you Ivan." That's right, he was hiding it from everyone.

The hold only tightens, crushing him whole like the entire email to begin with.

"Do not lie to me Yao Yao, I know you long enough to know that you are indeed," he whispers the next part slowly. "hiding...something."

Yao shivers again, wanting to claw out of the mans grasp but instead lay's limp in his hold. His eyes narrow to slits, and his voice is so cold. So, so, so cold.

"And I know you long to know that you won't force me to tell you the truth" he finally pulls out of the grasp not meeting Ivan's face. He was such a weakling. "Aren't I right, Ivan?"

The Russian just smiles. Sadness in his eyes even though his voice hints nothing. "Indeed."

Yao dusts off his clothes, now sprinting to the door before looking back. "I do not know much about you either Ivan, so let's call this fair play, hm?" He pulls the latch open, his feet already outside the complex. His face half in the shadows and the other covered with light. Just like himself in reality. A figure flickering between the past, the present, and the horrible future that has yet to come.

Ivan remains breathless, before smiling again, only a lonely look adorns his face.

"I'm sure one day you will."

The Chinese man pauses before once again looking grieved in sadness and guilt. No longer staring at the man any longer then he could. He couldn't bear it. Those eyes that stare at him so deeply. That crushing hold and broken but strong voice that gave him a chance to tell the truth. What hurts him the most was that he didn't. He didn't make the right choice. He lied.

"Then I'll tell you the truth on that day, promise." With that he closes the door behind him, leaving the complex and locking Ivan in a air of untamed suspicion.

It's quiet, and Ivan simply stares at the spot in front of him, imagining how close Yao was despite the distance in the present.

"How cruel Yao, even though I love you so much." He whispers before smiling one of equal cruelty.

He would never tell Yao about his past, and Yao knew. His promise was empty but Ivan's hope wasn't.

People could change every once and a while, and unlike what Yao thought, he was only the more intrigued.

What could he say?

He loved secrets, more so finding out the truth.

Oh my god! Finally, you've responded I'm so relieved to see that you're doing better. Although I admit, that the thought of you being sick crossed my mind. And even if you were sick you still tried to review? I'm ever so honored. Thank you for the wonderful reviews, I've been waiting for it, and I knew that at one point it had to come! You're just so dedicated, and it's shown in every review you give me! Ahh, I'm glad you caught on to many thing's during the previous two chapters. That's right, Alfred doesn't want people to know about his relation with Mattie! Why? Haha, who knows? Maybe there's more to it then you know! Thank you, thank you, thank you! Get well soon! I hope this chapter was satisfactory, the next will be the auditions for sure! Yes, your quite right when you wondered about the mysterious emails that have been popping up through the chapters. You're ever so clever, haha! Then again, what did I expect from my favourite reviewer and follower!

Get well soon. You absolutely must.

(I'm sorry guy's, I know the drag to auditions are long but remember, I need to solve multiple conflicts and this chapter was drawing quite long. Don't understand the character's? Read the very beginning of this chapter! Go!~)