The day had finally arrived. The day that Matthew had been dreading. Performance day. While Matthew was busy being nervous, Gilbert seemed blissfully unaware of the Canadian's fear. He texted him daily with reminders like "3 moar days birdie, r u pumped?"
Matthew was most certainly not pumped. The band was definitely ready- they had settled on the songs the same day Alfred had agreed to let them perform, and had practiced like hell. They were going to do an hour long set, and the America song had unfortunately not been included. Matthew was thinking over how much of a disaster this was going to be on the ride there when Gilbert poked his side. "Birdie?"
Matthew jumped and turned to face Gilbert. "Yeah?" He asked. Gilbert frowned.
"You look pale. Are you sick?" Before Matthew could answer, Gilbert quickly pressed a hand to his forehead. Matthew flushed and jumped at the sudden contact. Gilbert snickered.
"Now you're all red!" He exclaimed. "I don't know if you're faking this or not, but you still have to pull through. Awesomely, of course." Gilbert added. Of course. Matthew thought to himself, sighing.
"Hey, Matthew." Antonio suddenly asked from the driver's seat. "Is this it?" He pointed out the window, gesturing to an extremely- for lack of a better adjective- American restaurant. The building was painted in red and white stripes, and a bright neon sign proclaimed "Hero's Burgers" in bright, white, and fluorescent lettering. Matthew reluctantly nodded.
"As much as I hate to admit it…" Matthew said, trailing off at the end. Antonio parked the car in the lot and the five just stared at the eatery. It was a little painful. It was eventually Francis who forced a smile and got out of the car.
"We have a set to perform!" He chirped, and the others snapped out of it, getting out of the car and retrieving their instruments from the trunk. Stepping inside, they collectively winced at the star spangled wallpaper and striped booths. Football pennants were plastered around the walls, and a space had been cleared out in the middle of the restaurant- Matthew assumed it was where they'd perform. It looked like the American flag and a building had a secret one night fling. Lovino groaned.
"Can we go back home?" The Southern Italian asked, but before anyone could agree, Alfred had met up with them.
"Yo! Glad you could make it! Totally awesome, right dudes?" He asked excitedly, and Lovino crossed his arms.
"It looks like someone shoved a flag up-"
"He means to say it looks perfectly fine." Matthew quickly said, before Lovino could finish his most likely highly insulting remark. This place was Alfred's pride and joy, and he'd rather not be the one who paid for the therapist Alfred would insist on getting to help soothe his scarred mind. It has happened before. It will not happen again. Alfred smiled.
"Thanks! Okay, while the audience is really small-"Matthew was slightly surprised they even had an audience, considering how awful this place looked. There was a man with a large nose and creepy aura with what appeared to be his sisters, a happy blonde woman, a blond dude with thick eyebrows, and a snooty looking man with black hair and glasses.
"… Well, some audience is better than no audience!" Antonio chirped, after surveying the pitiful crowd. Alfred flashed him a thumbs-up.
"There you go! A positive attitude will get you far." Alfred said happily. "Now, go set up!" As he turned to leave, Francis stopped him.
"Who's the man with the thick eyebrows?" He asked, nodding his head over to him. Alfred followed his glance and tilted his head to the side.
"Oh! That's Arthur! He's like, practically my dad!" He gushed. "He only comes here whenever I bribe him with free tea. Figured you guys could use an audience." He then walked away, leaving Francis smirking. Matthew wondered what he was thinking. They set up their instruments, the people in the restaurant looking on, interested. When they finished, Gilbert took the mic from Matthew, who was internally screaming from being watched by all. Those. People.
"Hallo, people who are not as awesome as me!" Gilbert said, the microphone screeching slightly. "We're Bad Touch, and we're about to bless your ears with music so awesome, your awe will make me laugh like my grandmother." Matthew rolled his eyes, in spite of his nerves. "Okay, the first song we are going to do is a popular favorite!" He pressed the microphone in a trembling Matthew's hand and scurried to his place behind the drums. He clicked his drumsticks four times, and the intro began. It was long, and he felt almost all eyes on him. The solo ended and then it was time for him to sing. He took in a shuddery breath.
"J-just a small town girl…" He whispered, and blushed. "L-living in a lonely world…"
Matthew was furiously blushing, and shaking. The audience looked on in pity, and Gilbert decided that he should awesomely do something to cure his nerves. "Took the midnight train, going a-ny-where!" He sang, his not very pleasant voice was naturally loud enough to be heard. By everyone. Matthew giggled.
"Just a city boy…" Matthew continued, slightly louder this time, Gilbert still backing up. By the end, he was only slightly shaking, and his voice was nearly at full volume. The few people that were there politely clapped. Matthew weakly smiled. That was so scary…
Gilbert smirked and winked at Matthew, and walked up to take the microphone from him again. "I know, I know. My singing is totally awesome! Okay, the next song is…"
And so it went on like that for at least two songs, which went rather well. At least, until Francis chose to announced a song.
"Bonjour. My name is Francis, and you must have noticed my sexy aura behind the piano, no?" He winked at Arthur, who nearly spit out his tea. "Anyways, I'd like to dedicate this next song to Arthur…" Said British native's eyebrows knitted together in fury. Matthew blushed. This next song was a love song. Oh my.
Matthew just rolled with it, along with the rest of the band, ignoring the death glares from Arthur. Halfway through, Arthur seemed to have decided he had had enough. He stood up and angrily strode over to Francis, who decided it was best to get the hell out of there. Abandoning the keyboard, he ran off, laughing in a stereotypically French way.
"COME BACK HERE, YOU BLOODY FROG!" Arthur screeched, chasing Francis out of the establishment. Every person in the place stared at the door as they ran out. Eventually, it was Antonio who spoke up.
"Perfect timing for our stand-up comedy act, si, amigos?" He said, looking at the other three pointedly. As if this kind of thing was supposed to happen. Lovino scowled.
"I didn't fucking sign up for this." He gently set his bass down. "I'm not contributing."
Gilbert cleared his throat. "Okay, so the other day, I spilled spot remover on my Dalmatian…" Matthew looked at him quizzically.
"Gil, you don't have a dog." He whispered, and Gilbert sharply nudged the Canadian. "Ow."
"…and now I can't find him!" He finished. Not even the crickets wanted to chirp. "Oh, what, that was awesome!" He insisted. Antonio patted Gilbert on the shoulder.
"You tried." He said. "Anyways, my turn." He took the microphone and turned to face the audience. "Once, I had a dream I was meeting Leonardo DiCaprio." He began. "And for some reason, I asked him what his star sign was. He replied DiCapricorn." Antonio said, cracking up at the last word. Everyone stared at him, unamused, as he wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. "Get it?"
Francis and Arthur suddenly came back in, Francis smirking victoriously and Arthur scowling, faintly blushing. "Did I miss anything, mon amis?" Gilbert sent him a death glare. Francis paused. "Apparently not…" He said. "Okay, so the next song is one you'll certainly enjoy, oui?"
The last songs flew by perfectly, and when they finished, they actually got a pretty decent round of applause. Matthew shyly smiled at the crowd, and Gilbert slung an arm around him. "We're Bad Touch!" The Prussian shouted. "We're awesomely coming back! Kesese…"
When the instruments were packed up and everyone was in the car again, Francis smirked. "Bar?"
"Bar." Everyone agreed, nodding. They were going to celebrate.
A/N: The next chapter's going to be hella fluffy. And my update schedule is going to be hella weird from now on. Blame tumblr. ~Amity