Chapter 13
The members of the Hero Club studied the young boy curiously, trying to place him. It was finally Arthur who recognized him.
"You're the boy that's always hanging about the music room," Arthur said. The boy's cheeks flushed with color and he nodded, seemingly torn between embarrassment and brashness. Alfred closed the distance between them and extended his hand with a beaming smile.
"I'm Alfred Jones, President of the Hero Club! What do you need help with?" Alfred asked. The boy eyed his hand distrustfully for a moment before shaking it briefly.
"I…well…I've heard rumors…"
"This isn't going to be good," Arthur interrupted with an impatient eye roll. The boy pressed on stubbornly.
"I've heard you're all gay!" he finally said, his voice echoing loudly in the gym. There was a long, awkward silence before Alfred finally recovered.
"Err, not exactly, but what does that have to do with anything?"
"If you're not queer, I don't need your help. I'm pretty sure you are a pansy though, based on how badly you butchered that catch last week," Eli accused. Like an angry mother hen, Arthur joined Alfred's side and sneered down at the boy.
"You're awfully rude, aren't you? I don't know how you ask for help where you're from, but I can assure you an attitude like that won't get you very far here," Arthur fussed. The boy scowled, and looked as though he was about to challenge Arthur to some sort of fight, but Alfred stepped in between the two, placing a bracing hand on each of them. Unfortunately for Alfred, however, there was something about Eli's chest that didn't feel quite right…
The smack was loud, and it sent Alfred reeling, clutching his reddened jaw. Arthur pushed the boy in response, startling everyone when the cap went flying and it was revealed that the "boy" actually had impressively long hair secured in a bun atop his…her…head.
"Don't feel me up, you loser!" Eli screeched, recovering from her stumble and pointing an accusing finger at Alfred, who looked crossed between horrified and embarrassed.
"I'm sorry! I didn't realize! I didn't mean to touch your…err…I'm sorry!"
"Don't apologize!" Arthur rebutted. "She obviously wants people to think she's a boy, so she shouldn't get bent out of shape when someone touches her chest!"
"I came for help from the French boys, not from you, eyebrows!" the girl retorted, still protectively clutching an arm over her underdeveloped chest. Arthur practically growled, but Alfred placed a calming hand on his shoulder.
"Easy, Arthur. We're here to help her, remember? You'd be nervous, too, if you were in her shoes," Alfred said, clearly not phased at all by being smacked around. Arthur just sighed, seemingly resigned to the girl with the horrid manners.
"You wish to talk to us, I take it? Might I ask why?" Francis finally interrupted, though politely. The girl nodded, glaring once more at Arthur before nervously approaching Francis and Matthew.
"I need to look like a girl. There's someone…someone I'm very fond of…but he only notices girls. I've heard guys like you are good with this sort of thing, so you have to help me," Eli demanded. Francis and Matthew shared surprised glances, and then smiled. Moving quickly, Yao approached Eli from behind and swiftly undid the pin securing her hair.
"Let's see what we're working with, hmm?" Yao asked, sounding like someone critiquing a piece of artwork.
"My father won't let me cut it, but I never wear it down," Eli said, shifting nervously under her voluminous waves of light brown hair. It was snarled badly in some places, alternately frizzy and oily in others.
"Now I recognize you. You were in my history class before your schedule changed. I thought your name was Elizabeta?" Matthew asked in his soft-spoken way. The girl nodded, still blushing rather hard.
"I prefer Eli. So can you fix me or not?" she asked, glancing between Yao, Francis and Matthew. Ivan collected his book bag, grinning at them.
"I do not think I can be of much assistance for this one. Maybe next time, da? When you need to crush someone's kneecaps for a reasonable price, you call me," Ivan said with a wink. She flinched away from the taller boy as he passed her, clearly having heard different types of rumors about Ivan. Watching the Russian boy leave, Arthur began to collect his things, too.
"I'm with Ivan. I have more important things to do than play dress up with some gender confused girl. I also resent the implication that just because a person is gay, you automatically assume—"
"Arthur?" Francis asked with a smile, interrupting the British boy's tirade.
"Yes?" Arthur asked, clearly successfully distracted.
"Piss off. Not all of us here are still hiding in the closet, uncomfortable with our sexuality and our masculinity," Francis turned to Elizabeta with an elegant little bow. "Of course we can help you. When we are done with you, this boy will be a fool not to notice your beautiful transformation!"
Arthur's jaw fell open and he moved it a few times weakly, unable to even articulate his outrage. Laughing, Alfred casually looped an arm around his roommate's shoulders.
"How 'bout we be the judges? You guys do your stuff, and me and Arthur will let you know how it looks when you're all done! We'll wait in our room, okay?" Alfred offered. With a glance at his furious little friend he added, "At least you can trust Arthur not to hold back his true opinion."
Ducking under Alfred's arm, the furious Brit stormed out of the gym after Ivan, making sure to slam the door as loudly as possible on his way out. Seemingly a bit confused by Arthur's sudden and terrible bad mood, Alfred just shrugged cheerily and followed after him with a friendly wave over his shoulder and wishes for good luck.
Surrounding the nervous girl with matching grins, Yao, Francis and Matthew led her towards the main doors of the school.
USUK
After a speedy shopping trip in London, Francis, Matthew, and Yao had sent Elizabeta into the bathroom with detailed instructions on how to use the products inside.
"First, you will use the blue bottle—that is your basic shampoo," Francis said.
"Use my conditioner afterwards. It's in the orange bottle. You don't need all that much, just a small circle in the palm of your hand," Matthew added.
"And do not just plop it on the crown of your head. See how your crown is oily and your ends are dry? Massage the conditioner into the ends, not at the scalp," Francis informed.
"So first the blue bottle, then the orange, and then do that process all over again. When you're shampooing the first time, to really let the hair soak, you can do your exfoliating, moisturizing, and shaving before you rinse. Use the skin care products," Matthew said. Elizabeta blinked, clearly a little overwhelmed. Despite her expression, Yao jumped in without mercy, pushing a red silk pouch into Elizabeta's arms.
"I make these myself. The small white bottle is a moisturizer that works best in the shower. Make sure the water is hot so the steam will open your pores," Yao advised. Elizabeta looked disturbed.
"My what?" she asked. Ignoring her, Matthew popped into the bathroom a moment and then returned, holding a brown bottle and a men's razor.
"This is the leave-in conditioner. There're two in there, but this one smells a little more girly. Francis's smells like cologne. I think Francis's razor is a little sharper than mine, so use this one, but be careful—it has a lot of blades."
"I've never…um…I don't know how…"
They all stared at her, waiting. Blushing a furious scarlet, she finally admitted what was bothering her.
"I've never shaved before!"
"Oh, is that all?" Francis asked, clearly unruffled. "That is no problem. We can show you. Matthew, mon cher, do you mind?"
"Not at all. Come on, Eli. I'll show you how to do it so you don't cut up your knees or your ankles. The key is to use lots of moisturizing cream first, and to shave in the direction of the hair growth. You never want to shave dry."
With much trepidation, Elizabeta entered the boy's bathroom and marveled at all the skin and hair products that filled each available shelf. Not even her roommate, who seemed to be a normal enough girl, had this many types of products. To make matters worse, most of the labels were in French, though she spotted some English in the mix.
Matthew stepped out of his pants without any embarrassment, revealing form-fitting red and white briefs. Elizabeta blushed even further, cursing herself for thinking this make-over idea was a good one. She never in all of her life imagined she'd find herself in a bathroom with a gay boy, learning to shave her legs. As the water turned on, and Matthew set to work, Elizabeta finally recovered from her embarrassment enough to watch what the soft-spoken boy was doing, so that she could imitate his actions later.
USUK
She emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of fragrant steam, her hair wet and curly around her slender shoulders, her body tucked securely inside a big fluffy towel. Francis had pulled the foot rest into the center of the room, and had hooked up the hair dryer and the straightener nearby. Elizabeta's eyes widened to see even more hair care products, this time for styling.
She sat, clutching her towel, and Yao and Francis started working on combing out her long tresses and treating them for damage. With big, round brushes, they began to blow dry and brush, straightening some parts and leaving others curly, until Elizabeta blushed at the impressive way her hair flowed delicately around her shoulders. She barely had any time to appreciate the new style before Matthew was blocking her view of the mirror, a pair of tweezers in hand.
"You teased poor Arthur about his eyebrows, but yours aren't much better. This is going to hurt a bit," Matthew warned, before he began plucking and smoothing the tiny little hairs. Elizabeta flinched and cursed, and nearly cried, but finally the torture was done and she had to admit, she really did look much better. While shopping, they had bought some simple make-up—gloss, eye shadow, eye liner and mascara. With disturbing ease, Francis explained to her how to use all of them.
"Yao and I have different styles, but I think they complement each other quite nicely. Put on the dress I picked out, and wear the shoes Yao found. You'll need the knee-highs, and the flower hair clip."
"Oh, and don't forget the secret weapon," Matthew said with a grin, tossing her the bag containing the tiny, padded bra. Thinking her cheeks would catch on fire if she blushed anymore, Elizabeta took the garments in her arms, careful not to rumple them, and returned once more to the bathroom to change. The boys waited for her to come out, pleased with their work.
"We should have taken a picture of her before," Matthew joked.
"I'm sure Alfred and Arthur's reactions will be proof enough that it was a dramatic change," Francis replied. He turned to Yao with a pleased smile.
"I'm very interested in those products you made. You'll have to show me how you do that," Francis said. Yao smiled, pleased at the recognition of his creations, and nodded.
"The Chinese have been making skin and hair products at home for centuries. They are the very best for smooth skin and silky hair," Yao said with pride. It was hard to argue with him—the boy's own skin and locks were just as smooth and silky as he claimed, even putting Francis's to shame.
The door creaked open slowly, and with surprising gentleness, Elizabeta emerged from the bathroom. Her dress was old fashioned looking, but it suited her, and it was modernized with a few unexpected accessories that somehow coordinated perfectly, even though viewed separately, they would never seem to go together. The shoes gave her height, and she walked a little straighter, which accentuated the soft curves of her chest (enhanced just enough by the padded bra). Her hair, adorned simply with a pretty flower on a clip, flowed around her in enviably soft waves. The cute blush on her cheeks completed the picture, and all three boys gave her beaming smiles.
"You will knock him off his feet!" Francis praised.
"You look like a beautiful lady now," Yao said. Matthew just smiled, happy to see Elizabeta look so surprised by her own beauty and feminine charm.
"Let's go show Alfred and Arthur—they're not going to believe it's still you!" Matthew said. With a small, though very happy looking smile, Elizabeta did a little twirl, holding the folds of her dress.
"He'll definitely like this…but even better…I like it. I didn't think I would, but somehow…it feels kind of nice," she admitted.
"As long as you like it, and feel confident and beautiful, that is all that matters—it is the first key to true beauty," Francis said. Charmingly, he extended his hand. With a grin that hid sparkles of tomboyish amusement, Elizabeta laced her arm around his and allowed him to escort her across the hallway.
Matthew knocked on the door, realizing it had gotten fairly late.
"They'll still be awake, but what about this boy of yours?" he asked. Elizabeta glanced at the moon rising steadily outside the window.
"No…it's perfect. He always plays just before bed. He'll expect me to come, though he rarely acknowledges that I'm there," she said. The door opened and Alfred's face lit up in surprise.
"Holy crap! Is that really you, Eli? You look amazing! You have boobs, too! How come I didn't see those before?" Alfred asked, his eyes gravitating downwards seemingly on their own accord. Before Elizabeta could smack him again, Arthur pushed him out of the doorway.
"What on earth are you babbling…about?" Arthur trailed off as he got an eyeful of the beautiful girl, who smirked challengingly at him.
"Well, eyebrows?" she provoked. Arthur's face flushed with color and he frowned, turning his nose up primly. All the same, the admiration shining in his eyes was unmistakable.
"Obviously it's an improvement. You look…very nice," Arthur finally managed. Elizabeta's smirk softened into a smile.
"You know Roderich. You play piano together sometimes. Do you think…?" she trailed off, clearly unsure. A little surprised at the name she'd revealed, Arthur blinked a few times, thinking of the quiet yet traditional boy that seemed to live in the music room.
He would certainly like Elizabeta's new look; he was a little old fashioned, and concerned enough about his own appearance to make sure that his uniform was always crisply ironed and perfectly clean.
"He'll notice you. I'm sure of it," Arthur said, giving her a small encouraging smile.
"Then I should go, before he finishes practicing for the night. Thank you all! I'll let everyone know what a great help you were!" Elizabeta said, offering Matthew, Francis, and Yao quick hugs before hurrying off down the hall, curls bouncing behind her.
"Great. Now everyone's gonna think the Hero Club is a hair salon. That's so not cool," Alfred pouted. Francis, however, shook his head and yawned.
"That was a lot of hard work. The two of you can take the next unfortunate girl. Matthew and myself only have so much time to play hero...though I do look rather spectacular in tight fitting clothing, no?" Francis asked Matthew playfully. His boyfriend rolled his eyes, but kissed Francis on the lips.
"God help the next girl, then," Yao said with a snort, eyeing Alfred's slovenly pajamas and Arthur's wild eyebrows with playful mirth in his eyes.
"I think I've taken enough abuse for one evening. Good night!" Arthur said, just barely pulling Alfred back into their room before he firmly closed the door. Matthew, Francis, and Yao's laughter rang down the hallway.
USUK
Elizabeta nervously approached the archway that led to the magnificently marbled music room, where the baby grand rested in a room full of floor to ceiling windows. The night sky was streaked with clouds, but a few stray stars poked through, glittering determinedly. The moon was nearly full, heavy and round in the sky outside the window, as if staying nearby just to hear the soft piano melodies. Her footsteps slowed and then stopped. She reached for the archway with her hand, partly to brace her shaking body, and also to affirm that she was really there, and had taken such a dramatic step to gain his attention. The handsome brunet boy sat at the piano like always, his fingers hidden from her view, but his look of serenity perfectly visible for her to admire. This was how she loved to watch him, and she could do so for as long as he would let her.
Her nerves faded away as the soft music enveloped her, and her eyes closed gently in bliss. During the hectic school day, she felt like there was a lightening storm inside her, always crackling and thundering, but his gentle music soothed her without fail. There was only the gentle tinkling of the piano, the last few high notes ringing out before the song fluttered away.
"Eli…you look…" Roderich trailed off, his voice hard to read. Suddenly feeling too nervous to bear, Elizabeta crossed the room and stood beside him, hands clutched in front of her and hidden in the folds of her dress.
"Just play something for me, okay? That's how I understand you best," she said, her determination overpowering. He stared at her considering for a moment, a fair amount of appreciation lighting his eyes, and finally scooted down slightly on the bench. He'd never done so before, but he invited her to sit.
"A duet, then. Place your hand like this," he said, gently lifting her hand to the keys, his own slender fingers positioning hers. His hands were soft, but the tips of his fingers were callused, likely from playing the violin. She stared at their connected hands, the pearly white keys beneath them. Her heart felt like it was beating out of her chest, or at the very least, trying to lend its services as a loud metronome. He was so very close, pressed against her side, and she could smell his unique aroma—like rosin dust and old, yellow sheet music.
Gently, he guided her fingers into pressing a simple series of notes, and repeated the motion until she had mastered it. His own hands lifted to the piano and began to accompany her in a surprisingly sweet melody. She had never heard him play something so free and unburdened.
"This can be your song. Truth be told, I've been working on it for you for some time now. It was missing something, though, and I couldn't figure out what until I saw you in the doorway just now," he confessed.
She blushed heatedly, her fingers fumbling on the keys. His hands continued moving smoothly, bringing the song to its conclusion. He half-turned to her, and his hand rose slowly to tuck her hair behind her ear, and gently caress the flower nestled in the auburn waves.
"Could you tell from the song that I think you are a very beautiful girl, Elizabeta?" he asked. Forgetting all about ladylike manners, she smiled hugely and then leaned forward, exuberantly pressing her lips to his. A startled grunt escaped him, but he finally recovered and placed his arms gently around her, reaching up only to straighten his glasses on the bridge of his nose. Though they were opposites, seemingly two notes on totally different ends of the scale, somehow they made perfect harmony.
USUK
During lunch the next day, the Hero Club amused themselves by stealing glances at Roderich and Elizabeta, who sat together side by side, quietly eating lunch. They had never done so before.
"I guess that means we saved the day! Woohoo!" Alfred concluded. Arthur rolled his eyes, and helped himself to a few of Alfred's chips. Alfred playfully swatted at his hand. "Who said you could eat my fries? I need those—it's my serving of vegetables, ya know."
"Speaking of terrible food and poor health, Matthew tells me you wish to celebrate Thanksgiving at the end of this week," Francis said. Arthur's brows creased in thought.
"But Matthew, I thought Canadians celebrated Thanksgiving in October," Arthur said. Alfred froze mid-bite, his blue eyes wide with surprise. He looked at Matthew for verification. The soft-spoken boy blushed, absently tucking some of his wild curls behind his ear. Everyone was staring at him expectantly.
"W-well, we do…but you all were so busy planning the school trip, and then it was the Halloween dance…I don't mind celebrating it when Alfred does, truly," Matthew said. Francis sneered at Alfred.
"You didn't even ask him how he celebrates, did you?" Francis confirmed. Alfred blushed a bit, looking sheepish.
"Sorry, Mattie. I didn't even think the dates might be different," Alfred admitted with a frown. Matthew flashed him a reassuring smile.
"Its okay, Alfred. As long as we all get to celebrate together, I'm happy," Matthew said forgivingly. Arthur sighed, and smacked Alfred playfully upside the back of his head a few seconds later.
"You're culturally insensitive," he declared. Alfred pouted.
"How was I supposed to know the Mayflower went to Canada a month before it sailed to America?" Alfred asked. Matthew blinked in an amused way a moment before giggling slightly at Alfred's cluelessness.
"I think he's a lost case, Arthur," Matthew said, still grinning.
"So I'm starting to realize…so when is this dinner of yours?" Arthur asked. Alfred bounced back cheerily.
"It's in the cooking classroom this Friday night, and I've already invited all our friends! It's gonna be great. All me and Mattie have to do now is find all the food we need," Alfred said.
"This should be interesting," Yao commented, curious about what a western Thanksgiving dinner would entail. Beside him, Ivan smiled.
"I will come hungry," the husky boy decided.
Sharing grins, Matthew and Alfred planned out when they could go do some grocery shopping together, and where they could store the groceries in the mean time.
USUK
"GAH! The water's on fire!" Alfred yelled. He was panicking as big plumes of black smoke billowed up around the large pot. Matthew's expression transformed comically into one of pure fear.
"How did you burn water?" he asked, bravely darting forward with a dish towel. The horrible smell of burning assaulted them and the smoke detector began beeping in warning. Matthew somehow managed to turn off the burner, and Alfred helped him to lift the huge pot to a cool spot.
"I don't think it was the water that caught on fire. What's all that gunk down there?" Alfred asked. Clearly, someone had used the stove in the cooking class room and not cleaned up properly. Some food debris had landed near the heat source and began burning as soon as Alfred started to boil the water. Matthew grinned as he stretched onto his tippy toes to turn off the smoke alarm.
"You're face was hilarious," Mattie teased. Alfred shared his grin and checked another burner before turning it on.
"Let's agree not to mention that to Francis, alright?" Alfred pleaded. Matthew laughed and extended his pinky. Alfred hooked their smallest fingers together and smiled.
"Pinky swear. Though he'll probably know something is up what with the whole room smelling like smoke," Matthew said.
"Hey Mattie…can I talk to you about something personal?" Alfred hedged a few moments later, still staring at his pinky. Blinking a bit in surprise, because usually Alfred didn't ask permission before he spoke, Matthew nodded hesitantly.
"You can ask me anything, Alfie," he said seriously. After all, Alfred was his first true friend, and he wanted them to be able to talk about anything and everything. Alfred chewed a bit on his bottom lip, clearly trying to organize his words. He busied himself with returning the pot of water to the burner, adding some veggies, and checking on the pumpkin pie in the oven. He seemed uncharacteristically nervous.
"Well…you know how Arthur is," he finally began, as if that statement explained everything. Matthew smiled all the same.
"Arthur is a lot of things. I'm afraid you'll have to be a bit more specific, eh?" Matthew encouraged. Alfred nodded distractedly and stared very fixedly at the water in the pot.
"I guess…I'm just confused about something, but I don't want to ask him about it…because of how he is," Alfred said slowly. Matthew's eyes lit up at the prospect of romance. Was Alfred going to finally confess that his feelings for his roommate were not strictly platonic? He'd already told Matthew about how strange the kiss with Patty had felt, and how confused it had made him.
"What are you afraid to ask him?" Matthew prodded gently. Alfred scowled at him suddenly.
"I'm not afraid to ask him. I didn't say that. I just…well…it's because of how he—" Matthew smiled gently and finished his friend's sentence.
"Because of how he is? You already said that part. Alfie, do you like like him? Is that what this is about?" Matthew asked. It was a good thing Alfred hadn't been holding anything breakable, because he probably would have dropped it. Instead, he gaped at Matthew with a vibrant, guilty flush on his cheeks.
"No! It's not…no! I mean, Arthur's a nice guy—heck, he's one of my best friends! But he's just a friend. I don't think I'm gay. I mean, I can't judge that based on one bad kiss with Patty. I think I just need to kiss someone really hot. That's what I wanted to talk to Arthur about. I mean, not that Arthur's hot! I just wanted to ask him about…uhh…uhh…Emily—you know her, right?"
Matthew didn't like where the conversation was going, and he got the distinct impression Alfred was lying about what he wanted to ask of Arthur, but he nodded reluctantly in answer to his friend's question. He didn't think Emily fell in the category of spectacularly attractive, but then again, Alfred didn't know many girls that were willing to talk to him any more than necessary.
"Yeah, so I was thinking if Arthur asked her to, she might go out with me. But I don't want to ask him about it, because he gets really strange when I talk about girls, and he kinda dated Emily, ya know? I know it's dumb, but the whole kissing thing has really been bothering me for weeks now, and it's all I can think about," Alfred admitted, his voice a little desperate sounding. Matthew sighed.
Hopefully, Francis (and Arthur) would forgive him for what he was about to do.
"Alfred, close your eyes. I need to show you something," Matthew instructed. The warning timer on the oven went off, and Alfred glanced at it nervously before looking back at Matthew. The pot of water began to boil, the pressure building and bursting in the confines of the pot. Matthew noticed that Alfred was gripping the countertop with white knuckled fists, as if he knew what was coming, and in a strange, complicated way, had been asking for Matthew's help because he couldn't ask Arthur.
"You're gonna…"
"Yes," Matthew said simply. "Then you'll know if you're gay or not, and you won't have to make things awkward between you and Arthur. You wanted to ask him to kiss you, didn't you?"
The guilty look on Alfred's face was the only answer Matthew needed. Alfred chewed on his lip a little more, but then resolutely closed his eyes.
"It's just a kiss. It doesn't mean anything," he said. In his own head, Matthew echoed the same mantra. Francis wouldn't care. Besides, he was always flirting with other people, and Matthew was pretty sure it had gone further than flirting a time or two.
Despite his nerves, he had to make the kiss good. Alfred needed something he could really judge by. It couldn't just be a peck. Swallowing a bit nervously, and glancing at the door, Matthew approached his friend and gently rested his hands on Alfred's hips. The taller boy was holding his breath, eyes screwed shut tightly. Smiling a bit in amusement, despite the strangeness of the situation, Matthew stretched onto his toes and pressed a tiny kiss on the tip of Alfred's nose. The other boy's eyes opened in confusion, and his lips fell open. Before he could say anything, Matthew lowered his mouth and pressed it against Alred's, leaning flush against him and encouraging his friend to wrap his arms around him. He angled his head so they made a better fit, and darted his tongue against Alfred's unresponsive lips.
For a moment, the other boy was deadly still. Then a needy little sound escaped him and his grasp tightened, pulling Matthew hard against his skinny torso. Alfred's tongue met Matthew's and the kiss deepened, both boys electrified by the newness of it, and by the way it felt just a little bit forbidden.
The timer on the oven beeped loudly and insistently, but both boys ignored it. Alfred rotated his body so that he was pressing Matthew against the counter, his hands roving over the other boy's backside and his bony hips. Matthew's hands found Alfred's slender, yet strong arms, which unlike Francis's, were already beginning to show a hint of muscle definition, likely from all of the rugby practice.
And while Matthew was making comparisons between Alfred and Francis, it was obvious Alfred was making some comparisons of his own. His eyes closed once more, his hands pressed all over Matthew, his tongue desperately dominated their kiss, and one word slipped past his lips.
"Arthur…" he whispered. It was enough to finally break the spell. Matthew twisted out of his friend's grasp panting, his lips swollen and his clothing mused. Suddenly finding his arms empty, Alfred looked around confusedly for a moment, the haze of pleasure clearing slowly from his eyes, and realization dawning.
"You can't…don't ever tell anyone. Please, Mattie, promise me. That didn't happen. Nothing happened."
Suddenly feeling quite guilty, despite how innocent his motivation had been, Matthew nodded silently.
"It was just a kiss. Harmless. A-and it didn't even happen, so…yeah."
"Yeah. Shit. We burned the pie," Alfred said with an angry grimace as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, as if trying to remove the kiss that had provoked such a reaction from him.
Matthew had no further time to recover. The door to the classroom opened with a loud bang and Ivan entered, Yao on his heels, and Arthur and Francis not far behind. Only Francis's eyes narrowed perceptively at Matthew, and then calculatingly at Alfred, who more and more looked on the verge of tears. They hadn't fished preparing the meal, but Matthew was suddenly ready for it to be over. Be brought the turkey to the table with little fanfare, feeling tight and jumpy. Francis's eyes had never left him, and Matthew couldn't return his stare but for a nervous, pained glance.
A few more people came in—Emily and Patty, as well as Toris (sans Felix, which was a rare sight these days) and Elizabeta and Roderich, too. Arthur began to help Matthew bring things to the table, because Alfred stood frozen near the oven, his head turned down as if waiting for something to finish cooking.
"Alfred, help us get everything on the table," Arthur prodded. "This whole thing was your idea, after all. Are you carving the turkey?" Arthur asked.
"I've got to…go to the bathroom. I feel sick," Alfred blurted, before barreling past everyone before anyone could get a good look at him. He'd sounded bad though, as though his voice was thick with unshed tears.
Arthur stared after him gobsmacked, and then looked helplessly at Matthew.
"What the bloody hell was that all about?" Arthur asked worriedly. Matthew shook his head tightly, as if he didn't trust himself to speak, but finally settled on a response.
"It's nothing. We just had a…a stupid fight…and…and…" Francis seemed relieved by the explanation, as if he'd been suspecting what had really happened, but this lie made more sense. It didn't explain Matthew's swollen lips or rumpled clothes, but Francis didn't want to believe his suspicions. Matthew was just upset because he and his friend had fought, which had never happened before. He'd bit his lips, that was all. Maybe the fight had even gotten physical at one point, and that was why his clothes were in such disarray. Francis frowned at the tight feeling in his gut, and his eyes turned cold as Matthew hesitantly met his gaze once more, as if trying to gauge his reaction.
"I'm going after him," Arthur said, looking rather foolish with a baked casserole in his hands, as if he'd forgotten he was holding it. The room was full of nervous tension, and nobody seemed to know how to respond. Francis cleared his throat.
"Sit down, Arthur. Clearly Alfred wants a few minutes to calm down and clear his head. I'm sure whatever…disagreement…he had with Matthew has upset him. Let us not talk of unpleasantness any further. We're here to eat, and be thankful, no?" Francis said, his voice tight and his tone laced with accusation. Beside him, Matthew flinched.
"W-well, I'll start, shall I?" Patty said, glancing awkwardly around. "I'm thankful for all the friends I've made this year, and…and…yeah," she said. Toris picked up where she left off. He glanced nervously at Ivan, and then swallowed thickly.
"I'm thankful for forgiveness, which I've seemed to need a lot of this year. I guess we're all kind of figuring it out though, a-and we can't be perfect our first year. S-so I'm glad and thankful that even if we make mistakes, it turns out okay in the end," he said. Matthew sniffled, and feeling totally out of sorts, Arthur finally brought the casserole to the table and sat beside Matthew, patting his shoulder awkwardly.
"I'm thankful we've got such great new members in the council this year, especially Yao and Arthur. You guys have really been great. I expect to see even more great stuff from you guys before the year is over," Emily said brightly, clearly trying to erase some of the weirdness.
"My turn, da? I'm thankful that, for once, business matters this year have brought much pleasure," Ivan said cryptically. Most at the table assumed he was talking about dishing out punishment to other students, but Yao seemed to think it was a sweet comment. He smiled at the tall Russian in a way that was both secretive and flirtatious.
"I am thankful for that, too," Yao added. Arthur was still staring at the door, clearly expecting Alfred to return and growing more restless with each second that he failed to do so. Noticing what he was doing, and seemingly irritated by it, Francis snapped out his contribution.
"I am thankful the school was not burned down during the preparation of this dinner," he cast a critical eye over the dishes, his lips curling in distaste, "Of course, the building seems to be the only thing that escaped burning." Beside him, Matthew stiffened and his upset seemed to turn into anger.
"If the food isn't g-g-good enough for you, you can leave," Matthew replied quietly. The tension was back full force, as Matthew continued, "But that's just like you, to have something, and take it for granted, isn't it?" Matthew nearly whispered. Emily and Patty exchanged nervous looks. Arthur just looked confused. This was the first time Elizabeta and Roderich had really hung out with the group, and it seemed like they were both trying to figure out ways to politely excuse themselves early.
"Err…I'm thankful the fact that we don't celebrate this holiday where I'm from," Arthur finally grumbled, seeming to give up on pretending the dinner wasn't going horribly. A few people laughed, and Elizabeta spoke up.
"Unless Matthew has any objections, how about we just eat before it gets cold?" she suggested. Nobody really protested, and Ivan happily began piling food on his plate. A few things didn't look too bad, but most of it did look a little too crispy or runny. Matthew was a fairly decent cook, but Alfred proved to be a bit of a danger in the kitchen, both to himself and to the food.
Matthew finally cracked when Arthur served him a slice of slightly burned pumpkin pie after the too-dry turkey had been consumed. Matthew stared at the dark orange slice of pie on his plate for a long moment, a faraway look in his eyes, and then stood and politely excused himself.
"I take it this is not a normal Thanksgiving?" Toris asked with a nervous little smile, after Matthew had left. Being the only person left at the table that routinely celebrated the holiday, Patty just shrugged casually.
"Actually, it's pretty typical. Everyone fights, and the family hasn't gotten together in months, so conversation is awkward. One relative always has to make some sort of snide comment, feelings get hurt, the turkey is carved, and then the football game comes on and everyone's distracted from their failed familial relations by the television and eating too much," Patty said succinctly.
"Wow," Emily replied. Then, with a grin she added, "Well, it was really authentic then. That's brilliant."
Disgusted with the company he barely knew, the old friend who was completely oblivious, and with his cheating boyfriend, Francis finally tossed his napkin down dramatically and left, without a word to anyone.
Without missing a beat, Patty commented, "Looks like someone's about to go find the nearest television."
Feeling as though he had to stay till the end now, on Alfred's behalf, Arthur shifted anxiously in his seat and glared sullenly in the hopes that everyone still lingering would eat their desserts faster and just leave already. 'Happy Thanksgiving my royal arse!' Arthur thought with a deep scowl.
A/N: I wrote an outline for the first arc of this story that is nearly two pages long. So far, in the past two chapters, I've covered roughly two sentences of the outline. -_-;
To the British reader that was so kind as to explain the English terminology for school stuff, thank you so much! Also, a second British reader asked what a pep rally was. It's an American tradition designed to get all the students excited about a school event, usually of the sports variety. Another reviewer pointed out that Canadians don't celebrate Thanksgiving when Americans do. My bad, lol. I blame Alfred's cultural insensitivity, and not my own. :P I seriously had no clue our Canadian friends celebrated earlier. Sorry I forgot your holiday, Canada! *sheepish*
Oh, and this is random, but I started a blog and posted all my favorite USUK songs. If you wanna check it out, you can see it here: h t t p : / / demand-truth . tumblr .com / (without spaces, obviously)