Oopsie, I FrUKed a little.
We're going back to March this chapter.
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Arthur hated love songs.
Whenever one came on, that thought never failed to simmer in the forefront of his mind. Stupid, is what they were. Silly little things that were written by idiots who knew nothing of what they were talking about. Women who strained their vocal chords, singing about their special someone, and how perfect their lives were. Men who belted out chorus after chorus of beautiful girls that they wanted to hold forever. It was sickening, what these people did. Insulting to human intelligence, really. Making millions off of such a ridiculous concept.
Love did not exist.
What they called love was simply something that some despicable human made up long, long ago. The term had spread throughout the world like wildfire, engulfing the planet. Even going so far as to squirm its way into every language. Arthur had to admit, this person must have been a genius. With only one word, one impossible idea, they had conquered the planet. Conquered it without violence, or ill intentions.
Usually the blonde would not think so much about the farfetched idea of love. Rarely would he turn on his car radio, since every frequency was bloated with those songs. Unbelievable. It was much easier to drive in silence than to fiddle with the station for the entire trip. No matter which he changed it to - rock, R&B, pop, oldies, country - a love song would be playing ninety-eight percent of the time. Most of those genres he would not even listen to, but there was no escape. Sure, half of the songs had heavy implications of sex, but there was always that damned romantic undertone.
Now, though, the blonde could not escape. This was not his car, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not turn off the radio. Currently in the driver's seat his was his oldest friend, Francis. It had been far too long since he had done any of his artwork, and convincing his mother that he could live on his own with a bum leg had taken longer than he would have liked. Swallowing his pride, he had then decided to ask the Frenchman for a ride. Arthur knew that, if he had gotten in an accident while handicapped, he would have the blame all pushed into him. He could not afford that. As they rode to a mostly deserted neighborhood on the other side of the city, he let his thoughts wander once more.
This was not the first time the Englishman had swallowed his pride for Francis, and it was far from the last. Though, he felt consoled knowing that his friend was in the exact same boat. They knew one another like the backs of their hands, and were practically naked in each others eyes from how close they were. Obnoxiously, Arthur sighed. "How do you listen to this crap?" he complained, just because he could.
He could feel the blue eyes roll, more than see them. "Oh come now, it is the music of love! I would think zat now that you have a boyfriend, you would like et," he responded in lightly accented English.
"Love doesn't exist," he grumbled.
Cue Francis' overly dramatic sigh. "You're a fucking idiot."
"I'm not the one who believes in fiction."
"You used to." It was barely audible, but felt like the cut of a knife through his chest. Arthur had shut the door on fairy tales and magic a long time ago. That does not mean that it wasn't depressing to think about those times where he was young, innocent, and happy. His inner turmoil was halted by the sound of the radio turning up. Bastard. "Why don't you at least try to listen to the lyrics? Maybe you'll be able to connect wiz them."
"Doubtful," the younger pouted, not caring how childish it was. "You simply enjoy pissing me off."
"While that is true," smirked the other blonde, "I'm actually trying to 'elp this time. Maybe you can open your heart a little. Become less bitter."
"Shut up, frog face."
Minutes passed with only the radio, and the hum of the engine breaking the silence. Arthur was getting more and more agitated. Currently, the song that was playing was grating on his last nerve. It was worse than most he had heard. Fucking needy, and whining, and... just put him out of his misery now.
"I can't live!
If living is without you!
I can't live!
I can't give anymore!"
"Francis, if you don't change the fucking station, I will personally see to your stereo's demise," he growled, feeling a headache come on.
Sighing once again, the Frenchman did as he was told. Unfortunately, he was extremely familiar with that tone. "How sympathetic. The woman's heart had been broken, and she's in pain."
"Yeah? Well whoever that woman is, she needs to fucking grow a pair, vagina or not," grumbled the Brit, somewhat appeased now that the song was gone. "So she's sad, whatever. If someone leaves you, don't go and say that you can't live anymore. Pick yourself up and find someone else."
"You're so emozonally stunted." Something about Francis' tone was off, but Arthur was too irritated to delve into it.
"No shit," he deadpanned. "But really, that's just not healthy! Being hung up over one person. You know, I bet that song was on repeat while Stephenie Meyer played while writing those God-awful books! Fucking Bella..."
An elegant eyebrow rose. "You read them?" asked Francis, surprised.
"I don't ridicule things I know nothing about."
Shaking his head, Francis switched lanes. "I don't understand you sometimes."
"Bullshit."
A chuckle, which led Arthur to let out a small laugh as and out, his friend knew him entirely, and he hated it. Hated how he knew that he could trust Francis with his everything. Both verbally, and physically, they fought. Frequently. If an embarrassing secret got out about one of them, there was no doubt the other would spread it like a vicious infection. But when it really came down to it, they would always be each other's support.
Fuck his life.
Becoming sentimental right next to his best friend/greatest rival, Arthur instead tuned into the radio. Maybe he was masochistic.
"You have stolen my heart."
Song after song played.
"You! Your sex is on fire!
Consumed with what's to transpire!"
Some were cheesy, while others were brimming with innuendo.
"I can't be held responsible
She was touching her face
I won't be held responsible
She fell in love in the first place."
Laments of broken hearts.
"Fate fell short this time
Your smile fades in the summer
Place your hand in mine
I'll leave when I wanna."
Dreams of running away together.
"If I could find you now things would get better
We could leave this town and run forever
Let your waves crash down on me
And take me away."
Of young love.
"Nevermind I'll find
Someone like you."
And of lost love.
"I want your loving
And I want your revenge
You and me could write a bad romance."
No matter the genre.
"I can see us holding hands
Walking on the beach, our toes in the sand
I can see us on the countryside
Sitting on the grass laying side by side."
No matter the station.
"Some people want diamond rings
Some just want everything
But everything means nothing
If I ain't got you."
There was not a single love song,
"If you ask me if I love him, I'd lie."
that did not flood his thoughts with Lovino.
"If I had my own world
I'd build you an empire
From here to the farmlands
To spread love like violence."
And suddenly, all of these songs were about him.
Right then, Arthur felt his heart stop as realization hit him like a stampede.
He was in love.
With his blood running cold, the Englishman felt beads of sweat form at his temple. It was too fast. How could this happen? Arthur Kirkland did not fall in love. He could not! The very vagary was irrevocably absurd! Love isn't real. Love does not exist! It's a mutated form of lust, and nothing more.
But...Arthur knew that he did not only lust for Lovino. He cared about his safety. Wanted to ask question after question, because he needed to know everything about the Italian. Images of them pressed together on his couch watching old movies that no one under fifty would know often skulked through his daydreams. They could stand together on his balcony, lazily watching traffic with his head resting on his boyfriend's shoulder. He wanted to-
"Oh fuck," he whispered, emeralds wide, but seeing nothing. Was this...love? Did it really exist? Every fibre of his being wanted to reject this contemplation, and his stomach was doing somersaults. Worst of all, the Brit's heart felt like a solid chunk of lead. Poisoning would be welcomed, because this was all too much.
Arthur never believed in love. It was a trick that the brain played on you out of boredom. It could not be real, it just couldn't! Ludicrous. Arthur was smarter than to fall for this. He was!
Who was he kidding? Certainly not himself. That little fucker made him fall. Lovino made him fall hard, flat on his face, with no warning. Did that make him a hypocrite? With a pounding head, Arthur could not find an answer. His stomach tightened with knots, and the man felt sick.
Noticing that the car was no longer moving took him a while. Looking around, he could tell that they were somewhere on a completely different side of the city. Quite a ways away from his apartment, and he did not want to be there anymore. Arthur wanted to be home, in bed, with as many blankets he could find piled on top of him. Francis was unabashedly staring at him. "Francis."
"Yes?"
"Take me home. Please."
Just like the Frenchman, he knew that Arthur was at his most fragile, and did nothing to antagonize him. Cupping the Brit's head, Francis gently guided him closer and planted a kiss to his temple. Instead of fighting it, like he usually would, Arthur found a strange sort of comfort in the gesture. Somehow, he now knew that his friend knew exactly what he was going through.
Most definitely it was true, but hard to believe. The mighty "King of Love" had his doubts as well. Maybe he still does. A lot of people have come and gone when it came to Francis. Arthur would know, since he was always the one whom he came to, with a six pack of beer and tears in his eyes. The Brit knew that his friend's only desire was to find his soulmate. But Francis was too hasty about things. Opening up to people too quickly, and wearing his heart on his sleeve.
That was when he realized that Francis never doubted love. No, he would never doubt love. What the man had not believed in was heartbreak. That the most wonderful, and pure emotion on the planet had a dark side that could split you open, and leave you to bleed. Green eyes glanced left. The other had experienced that dreadful feeling more than enough times to have not come out with his own scars. It hurt to know that even the firmest believer had been hurt so badly from something that is supposed to be great.
Street lights and cars passed by without either man noticing. Driving back to their side of the city would take a while. Previously blasting, the radio was not only a subtle hum of background noise. Just like always, their hands found each other, and folded together atop the middle console. It was how they always ended up in these delicate instances. Connected in one way or another, and acting as a metaphorical crutch. Grasping at a single thread, a lifeline. No matter how cruelly life fucked with them, they would have each other.
Dark streets shone with remnants of afternoon rain. Every window was open, slapping their faces with slightly frigid air, and it felt fantastic. Arthur felt like he was in a dream. Though it must have been close to an hour, it only seemed like fleeting moments had passed before they parked in the visitor's lot of the Englishman's complex. For a while they sat, fingers unwilling to let go, and stared out of the windshield. Artificial light powdered the car, and everything felt horribly mundane.
They were left to think of their love lives. Francis lack of a stable relationship, and Arthur's gain of one. His friend only wanted to be happy, and the last time he had seen a pure smile was when he was with Jeanne. She moved back to France almost six years ago. And Arthur, well, apparently he had found his Jeanne. Lovino was everything he could ever ask for, even though he knew better than to ask for so much. It scared him more than anything. Acceptance of the one thing he had never believed in came so easily, all because of his warm, warm boyfriend. It terrified him, this love, and the blonde wished that he had not realized it so suddenly.
Of course, he would not tell the Italian what he had discovered so soon. No, he would wait a while, because what if Lovino did not feel the same? His nineteenth birthday had just passed, and from what Arthur had heard, he has never been in such a relationship before. Arthur would wait. Needed to wait. It would take a while for him to wrap his head around this new feeling, that was for sure. Longer for the Brit to be able to comfortably admit it out loud.
Before he could ponder any further, he felt Francis shift and stifle a yawn. The moon had risen quite a while ago, and even though he was not tired yet, he would not deny his friend the kindness he desperately needs. "You staying?" he asked, turning.
Blue met green, a half-smile accompanying them. "Yeah."
Without another word the Frenchman turned off the car, and they exited the automobile. Leisurely walking all the way to Arthur's building, their hands sought each other once more. Letting his head loll to rest on the other's shoulder, the younger man felt a pressure in his palm.
Really, they were hopeless, but they were hopeless together. It was okay. Everything was okay. After entering Arthur's room, they would change into bedwear, drink a few beers, and fall asleep in his uncomfortable bed. When they awoke, they would be back to normal. Arthur would be hogging all of the blankets and quilts, cocooning himself. In retaliation, Francis would kick him off of the bed. The older man would then cook breakfast with whatever he could scrounge together from Arthur's mostly bare fridge and cabinets, complaining the whole time, and the Englishman would not lift a finger to help. Then his friend would go home, leaving him all alone once again in a surface-stained apartment.
It was routine, and it was something Arthur knew. But more lyrics played in his head. Maybe he could step out of his comfort zone. Just a little bit. He would call Lovino. They could get together. Stay in Arthur's home, and watch old movies since it would be too much of a hassle to try and go out with his leg.
Yeah, he would do that. Especially since that whole Valentine's fiasco was such a headache. Though he had redeemed himself, this...love... made him want to try harder. To prove that he thought Lovino was special, and that he did not want to lose him. Yeah, he could do that much.
"I think that possibly
Maybe I've fallen for you
Yes, there's a chance
That I've fallen quite hard over you."
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Songs (In order of appearance):
"I Can't Live (If Living is Without You) - Mariah Carey
"Stolen" - Dashboard Confessional
"Sex on Fire" - Kings of Leon
"The Freshman" - The Verve Pipe
"Feeling This" - Blink 182
"Ocean Avenue" - Yellowcard
"Someone Like You" - Adele
"Bad Romance" - Lady Gaga
"My Love" - Justin Timberlake
"If I Ain't Got You" - Alicia Keys
"I'd Lie" - Taylor Swift
"Secret Crowds" - Angels and Airwaves
"Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop" - Landon Pigg
I haven't listened to, like, car radio in a while. At least not any stations that play current stuff. Pretty much all of these songs I hear on my Pandora stations.
Trying to make Francis' accent thin, since he's been living in the States for a little bit longer than Arthur. Though I know this Greek lady who has lived here for a while, and her accent is still very thick.
I like how he realized his feelings while he was with Francis. Teehee. But of course, I planned to a chapter filled with fluff and warm feelings, and Arthur, once again, freaks out on me. My poor sweetheart~. He's so very emotionally stunted, I don't even-
I wasn't going to give France such a dramatic story as well, but he wanted to be an attention whore since Arthur was taking it away. THESE TWO.
So yeah, I hope you liked it anyway~.
*hearts*
Oh, and to Anon!Lala, Y U NO LOG IN? I'm not much for exibitionism, but now I have to love all over you right here in front of everybody! Naughty naughty~. Get over here, little miss. ;)