Arthur couldn't remember for the life of him when he had last been so bored. Neither could he remember the last time he had had a migraine as bad as the one he was suffering from now. All around him was a pounding blur of noise that all faded into one constant screaming.
"How the fuck did I end up in this situation," he snarled to himself, knowing that no one else would hear him. "Fucking Alfred."
"Pleeeaase, Arthur! I'm begging you!" Alfred insisted, grabbing on the edges of Arthur's pristine green sweater vest. "Just for one night, do something that isn't boring! It's Friday, come to a game, and go to the after party. I promise, it'll be fun!"
"Fun for who?" Arthur snarled, glowering darkly at all of the teenagers around him. Sure, all of them seemed to be having a marvelous time, but all of the obnoxious energy was putting a dampener on his mood, even more so than usual. He didn't even know how American football was played. Alfred had tried time after time to explain it, but no matter how often he was told it made about as much sense as the first time. And the first time had made no sense whatsoever.
All he knew was that the goal was to get the ball from one side of the field to the other, but that seemed a fairly generic sports goal. Alfred, he assumed, played some sort of important role in the game, but he couldn't remember what. He didn't even want to start considering the situation with yards and feet.
"Stupid American measurement system, stupid American sports, stupid American people, stupid American boys," Arthur hissed. He didn't even know where Alfred was anymore in the crowd of other players, they all looked the same from up in the bleachers.
"Aren't you Alfred's friend?" Arthur heard.
He turned, disinterest unable to be more clearly expressed on his features. Friend. Everyone used that stupid word to describe them. The girl was giving him a wide-eyed, deer-in-the-headlights look. Arthur raised his eyebrows at the girl, hoping she would realize he really was not in the mood.
She breathed in deeply for a moment, and Arthur instantly feared for the well-being of his ears and of his migraine.
"Aren't you Alfred's friend!" she repeated, screeching like a harpy.
Arthur forced a smile. "I wouldn't say friend," he said, just loud enough to be heard. "What's it matter?"
"Oh, well, if you're not friends then nevermind!" she, once again, screeched. Suddenly his migraine was ten times worse. Using her harpy voice the whole time, she returned her attention to the game, wailing and screaming random players' named.
"For fuck's sake," Arthur grumbled. "Am I even obligated to stay at this point?" He made to stand, but some over enthusiastic, pizza faces behind him pulled him back down to his seat.
"You can't get up yet, loser."
He was forced back down into the sticky bleacher seat. Some idiot had probably spilled coke on it once and an underpaid janitorial staff definitely wasn't going to bother with cleaning that up. Or perhaps it was something worse. He felt his stomach churn at the thought of it.
"Great fucking insult," Arthur grumbled, intent on staying in a bad mood the whole time. Honestly, the screeching girls and acne covered assholes weren't making it such a difficult task. There was no reason he had to stay. "Stupid American everything," he growled. The last thing he needed were these assholes, they'd already decided earlier in the game that his shoulders made for choice foot rests.
"How long do these usually take?" he asked the person to his right. She seemed fairly calm for the whole situation, and Arthur recognized her from a few classes. A small, complacent smile was on her face as she turned to Arthur.
"Hm," she said quietly, Arthur could barely hear her. "I'm not really sure." She turned back to watching the game, and Arthur was flooded with awkwardness. He too started watching the game again.
He dreaded being here with a passion, and he still hated Alfred for convincing him to go along. The seats were hard and uncomfortable, with no backs to them at all. No wonder no one in this school has decent posture, Arthur thought. Alfred hadn't even allowed him to bring his laptop, not that he would want to bring such an expensive piece of technology to such roughhousing and screaming, but it would have been better than nothing.
His phone was off in his pocket, as he wanted to conserve its battery for when his shit luck became even worse and he was forced into another over-the-top social situation. A party. That was just what he needed. But the party would only be thrown if their team won. So far, their team was winning. They had almost double the other team's score.
Arthur supposed if their school won this game, he could say he attended a momentous time in their school's history. For the past three years they had been on a dreadful losing streak, and only when Alfred joined the team did they begin to win again. Just what he needs, something else to inflate his ego.
"I don't like football," the girl to his right said.
Arthur jumped, a hand instinctively clutching his chest. He was about to ask her why she was even there, but she started speaking, well, more whispering, again.
"Lili. My name is Lili," she turned to Arthur and gave him a bit more of a smile.
Arthur nodded, giving a small smile back. She was nice, but she seemed odd. "If you don't like football then why are you here?" he asked,
"My brother's crush's crush is playing."
He didn't even know how to respond to that, it was quite the situation. "And you're here to watch your brother's crush's crush play?"
"Mm-hmm," Lili hummed, looking back to the players on the field. Arthur just nodded.
At least now he had someone to talk to and distract him from all of the noise assaulting his ears. "What do you like? Personally, I would rather be home reading or typing."
"Oh I like hunting," Lili said. "My brother and I go every year, it's a lot of fun."
"I hadn't pegged you for the type of person who could handle guns, you seem so sweet and innocent. That's not an insult or anything, you're just very nice," Arthur said.
Lili nodded. "That's what most people think. I don't mind, really. What sort of things do you read?"
"Anything that catches my attention, really. However, I am a sucker for classic novels and fantasy, and I'm not much for romance novels," Arthur said. "Who is your brother?"
"If I told you that, you would know the other two I'm talking about, so it's best if I didn't say anything."
"I can respect that," Arthur mused. The two went back to watching the football game, occasionally quietly speaking to each other.
Ninety minutes later, and nearly the whole audience went ballistic. People were jumping up and down in their seats, flailing wildly and screaming even louder than before, a chant of "Alfred" had begun somewhere in the front of the bleachers. Arthur didn't join in all of the noise-making and excitement, aside from standing up. The last thing he needed was to stick out even more than usual.
"Does this mean we've won?" he asked Lili.
"I suppose so!" she said, a bright smile on her face. "I have to go find my brother now, I'll see you some other time, Arthur!"
He vaguely wondered if he'd given Lili his name, but decided quickly it didn't matter. Due to this overwhelming success of their school, it meant Arthur was going to be dragged to a party and there was nothing he could do about it. There was absolutely no doubt that Alfred was going to let him get out of it.
Down on the field, he caught sight of a certain stupid American boy waving at him. But there was no way that Alfred had spotted him from down in the field. Instead of waving back, Arthur began the overcrowded and far-too-noisy trek to Alfred's truck parked around the back of the student lot.
Only thirty, rather chilly, minutes later, Alfred was lightly jogging up to his truck, waving at Arthur.
"Hey, Artie!" he shouted, despite being within talking distance. "Did you see that! We totally kicked their asses!"
"Yes, I certainly saw that," Arthur said. "And this means we'll be going to some football ass's house where there will be cheap booze, tacky girls, and dull entertainment."
Alfred laughed loudly, smacking Arthur's shoulder when he got close enough. "Aw, Arthur, don't think like that! It's totally a bummer when you act so moody!"
"I'm always like this, Alfred, you had better get used to it."
The taller blond continued to laugh horribly loudly even as the two of them got into the white vehicle. "I could drop you off at your house if you wanted me to," Alfred said after a few moments.
"While I would much rather be in the company of people ten thousand miles from me in the safe seclusion of my room, I suppose I must go or I'll hurt your poor, pathetic feelings," Arthur sighed. He couldn't believe he was turning down a chance of escape. The overbearing excitement from the game must have made his brain fuzzy.
"Yes!" Alfred cheered, making a 'score!' motion with his arm. "You'll have fun, Arthur, I promise! It's a Friday night and we have a three day weekend, you're supposed to be stupid on nights like this!"
"I refuse to ever lower my intelligence just because of the circumstances of the hour," Arthur quipped. Alfred laughed loudly, pulling out of the student parking lot.
"Arthur, you're no fun when you talk like that."
"Why? Because your pea brain has a difficult time understanding me?" Arthur asked, raising one eyebrow.
"Nah, I've got my own personal Arthur-to-English dictionary by now, I've known you since we were eleven, it's impossible not to. It just sucks when you're in a bad mood to be in a bad mood, y'know?" Alfred explained.
"No, I don't know, really. And I have no idea what you're talking about Alfred, I am never 'in a bad mood to be in a bad mood'."
"You're doing it right now!" Alfred said, grinning at Arthur.
"I am not!" Arthur's face was starting to heat up, he couldn't tell if it was from his rising anger or from what he'd said a week ago. We're like an old married couple. And Alfred had agreed with him! He'd never been more mortified in his entire life.
Barely five minutes had passed before Alfred grew sick of the silence, and flicked on the radio. At first, Arthur thought, his singing was rather nice. It was some country song that he didn't recognize, and he didn't particularly like it, but the music could have been a lot worse. However, that all changed when the song ended and another began playing. Anyone who was alive could have recognized those four chords anywhere.
"Alfred," Arthur gave Alfred his most pleading look, "please don't. Spare me." Alfred was too busy giving him a wicked grin to hear anything he was saying.
"Just a small town girl!" Already his voice was cracking and far too out of key to even be recognizable.
"Christ, Alfred, please shut up now," Arthur begged. He only hoped that they would arrive at their destination before the chorus of the song started playing.
"Living in a lonely world!" It was quite literally the worst singing Arthur had ever heard in his life. "C'mon, Artie, sing with me! It's fun!"
"I don't possibly see how it could be any fun! The song is overrated, overdone, and it's not even that great!"
"Arthur!" Alfred cried, putting a hand over his heart. "You wound me!"
"I don't care, Alfred, your singing is horrible!" Arthur was finding it harder and harder not to break into the same idiotic grin Alfred was bearing. He had sworn he would be in a bad mood for the rest of the night. I guess Alfred knows me better than I do, Arthur briefly thought, before the singing started again.
"Some were born to sing the blues!" He was wailing out every single word that was held for longer than one beat, and Arthur wouldn't have been surprised if his ears started bleeding.
"Alfred, for fuck's sake, shut up!"
"Not until you join me and you're in a better mood!" Alfred yelled as he turned up the music. At the same time, he rolled down the truck windows, and began wailing like an injured cat out of the window at all passers by. Arthur tried to bury himself into the collar of his sweater, his face and neck beet red. "Their shadows searching, in the NIIIIIIIIIIGHT!"
Arthur physically winced, but began laughing in spite of himself. Alfred soon joined him, but took up singing again.
"Artie, c'mon, it's the best damn part of the whole song! Sing with me!"
"Alfred, I'm not going to be doing any singing!"
"Don't stop believing!" Alfred was still wailing at the top of his lungs. "Hold on to that feeling!" He was missing every note, but Arthur found himself unable to control his laughter. "Streetlight, people!" Eventually, Arthur succumbed.
"Don't stop believing!" they howled.
Arthur hadn't had so much fun with Alfred in years.
That was, until they got to the party. The moment they entered the front door, Arthur felt like an old, ugly coat that was tossed to the side. Alfred immediately found his shallow group of shallow friends that were already blind drunk off of the cheap booze. The house smelled rank, like uncleaned vomit and cat piss and sweaty teenagers.
Arthur kept to himself in a corner, he didn't want anything to do with any of these people. He kept his eyes down and his arms crossed, hoping that he looked like someone who was not enjoying themselves, but also someone who was not to be approached. Clad in a green sweater vest and too-loose jeans, though, he just looked like a lost freshman. His mother always scolded him for his fashion choices, but that was something that never mattered to him. All he needed to do was do well in school and he could be happy.
"You're Alfred's tutor right?" some probably-asshole guy asked, stepping closer to Arthur. "That's cool man, here, have a beer."
Arthur forced a smile, making very brief eye contact. "I don't drink, thanks."
"Wow, a class A bookworm!" some other definitely-asshole who overheard them interrupted. "What do you mean you don't drink?"
"I just don't," Arthur snarled. He shoved his way through the crowd to the other side of the room. It was warm, too warm, and it was becoming a bit hard to breathe. So many stinky teenagers were not meant to be shoved into such a small area together. He fumbled for the backdoor, finding an escape in the yard. He stood and breathed for a few moments, before reentering the party.
The two assholes from earlier were where he had left them, but were now surrounded by girls. They all laughed and giggled and pointed when they saw Arthur. He felt his ears heating up, but instead of being embarrassed and walking away, he gave the small crowd a very polite middle finger, and then walked away.
"What else was I supposed to expect from a party of douchebags and football players?" he grumbled.
There was no one he distinctly recognized, only faces he saw in passing in the halls. Alfred was no were to be seen, and Arthur cursed his name for ditching him.
"Fucking asshole, leaving me all alone. 'You'll have fun!'," he said, doing his best impression of the American. "'Sing with me, Arthur!'. Yeah well, fuck your singing, Alfred Jones." He had returned to his normal, grumpy mood.
Other students, every so often, attempted to make conversation with him, but he brushed past them. None of these people were worth his time. All he wanted to do was maybe find a book or a computer and settle himself for the next few hours, or however long the party lasted. He doubted that would happen though.
"Have you seen Alfred?" he asked someone.
"Why?" they snapped. "Miss your boyfriend?"
"He's not my boyfriend," Arthur growled, shoving the person. He didn't even bother to notice who they were. He asked a few more people, but everyone gave them the same response. "How hard can it be to lose someone like Alfred?" he grumbled to himself, shouldering his way through the crowds. All of the people were starting to get to him again, and if he didn't find Alfred soon he would have to step outside again.
Intense cheering from the main room of the house drew his attention and he worked his way through the sweaty bodies. He could only assume Alfred was doing something stupid again. People were in a tight ring around the center of the room, screaming and hooting. Some people were waving their arms wildly in the air, splashing beer every which way, some of it splashing on Arthur. He scoffed and wiped it off of his face. Despite all of the ruckus, he was still curious as to what was happening, and there was no doubt it was Alfred's fault. Only the most popular asshole in school could be getting this much attention at a party.
He elbowed and shoved and pushed with all of his might through to the center of the crowd. The sight he was met with made time stop. Everything around him slowed down, and the noise of the people around him faded into one loud chunk of white noise. His pulse thrummed all throughout him, getting faster by the second. He could barely even remember how to breathe.
The girl from earlier at the football game with her harpy voice and her eye shadow up to her eyebrows and her lipstick as bright fucking pink as possible had her arms thrown around Alfred's neck. Her lips were pressed against, but it looked more like they were eating, Alfred's mouth. Alfred was in no way denying or rejecting her actions, and Arthur's whole world collapsed around him.
Suddenly, time sped up to twice as fast as normal. Arthur felt like he was going to vomit, and the backs of his eyes were burning. He shoved his way through the crowd again, not minding if he stamped on toes, or elbowed someone in the gut. He really needed to escape before everyone saw his reaction. It was doubtful that anyone noticed, but he couldn't take that risk.
When he finally escaped, he tumbled forward, having lost all of his balance from the lack of resistance. His legs turned to jelly beneath him, and his chin had probably started to bleed from the impact to the ground, but he got outside. Feeling like he had no control over himself, he barely made it to the driveway of the house before collapsing. Arthur scrabbled for his phone, and managed to dial without it slipping through his fingers. One ring later, and he had an answer.
"Arthur, do you even realize how late it is? It's nearly midnight!"
"Is it really...?" Arthur asked, his voice as calm as ever. Only then did he allow himself to cry, even though he was trying his hardest not to.
"Arthur, Arthur, what's happening? What's wrong?"
"Francis," Arthur whined, feeling pathetic and sorry for himself. First he was crying over Alfred and now he was calling Francis. He'd never had a worse day in his life. "I just, I need a ride..."
"Arthur, okay, where are you, cher? I'll head over as soon as I can. Are you alright?"
"I'm at some party, some stupid American football woohoo-we-won party, I don't really know where," Arthur responded, wiping at his eyes and hoping Francis couldn't hear the quiver in his voice.
"I know where you are Arthur, just calm down, okay, Eyebrows?"
Arthur didn't even have it in himself to call Francis a frog or snap at him for the Eyebrows comment. "Thank you," he muttered. He didn't even wait for Francis' response when he hung up the phone, and closed his eyes. "Alfred, you are the fucking worst," he said, his words choked out.
A/N: Ahah I just barely got this chapter up in time. I was really slacking today and ah poor Arthur no Alfred for you for a couple chapters yet. I mean c'mon, I had to ruin the happiness of the singing with something shitty like that. Also the singing was pretty much improvisation, I just needed something to take up more words so it wouldn't be a hideously short chapter, and that's what I came up with.