Hetalia - On London's Stage [5a/12]
He really should have listened to Matthew when he had warned him. And he should’ve listened to Ludwig when he shouted after the rushing American to bring an umbrella. But in his defense, it had been a clear sky when he had left the hotel. Sure, a light drizzle had started, but Alfred hadn’t expected the light drizzle to turn into a full-out monsoon! By the time he saw the all too familiar Golden Sun theatre in the distance he was drenched to the bone. It also hadn’t helped he’d neglected to grab his jacket on the way out, his Superman t-shirt hardly aiding in keeping him warm, the fabric clinging to his chest. And wet jeans really were the worse. Hell! Even his sneakers were water-logged, squelching with ever step he took. The American sniffled, pushing back soaking wet bangs. He felt absolutely miserable. All he wanted to do was change into some dry clothing, drink some coffee and bundle up under as many blankets as he could.
Of course that couldn’t happen. He had come to the theatre to help out, and since he was already there he really couldn’t turn back.
Plus… He really needed to see Arthur.
Arthur… His face flushed, a dopey smile forming. And suddenly the rain wasn’t so bad. Sure he was freezing, but he would see the grumpy stage-manager (who had kissed his cheek!)soon enough. Just that thought warmed him up.
They needed to talk, he reminded himself. Especially after their “date-that-he-thought-wasn’t-one-at-first-but-totally-was-one’. Especially after Arthur had kissed his cheek. That meant Arthur liked him right? Or maybe it was just some European thing… But the Brit had gotten awfully flustered afterwards. He’d been so quick to just rush off. So that had to mean Arthur liked him, right? Alfred really hoped so, because he’d come to like the stage-manager an awful lot since they had first met. Maybe he could ask Arthur to get something to eat after they were finished today? He had some money left. He could treat Arthur! It could be another date! Would Arthur want that? Maybe they could do something this weekend too. Yeah! Alfred could drag him out of the theatre; he probably would need another break anyhow. They could go to some park maybe. Have a-
Any future plans came to a screeching halt when the moment he had entered the blessedly warm theatre, he was attacked by a livid Arthur. “Out!”’
“… Wha?”
“Get. Out.” The Brit repeated slowly, as if talking to a small child, even beginning to push Alfred out the door. The soaking wet teen however planted his feet to the ground, refusing to be budged.
“Arthur… It’s monsooning out there! I’m soaked. There’s no way in Hell I am going back out there!”
“Oh yes you are!” Arthur snapped, and Alfred couldn’t help but feel hurt. Had he done something wrong yesterday? Had he said something? Thoughts swirled all throughout his mind, Alfred feeling more and more miserable by the second. Had he read the atmosphere wrong? Had he-
His thoughts once again came to a halt when he finally caught sight of the stage.
“Oh c’mon Arthur! That’s why I have to get lost? You’re not serious!?”
“O-Out!”
“I’ll hide backstage!”
“No!”
“Arthur, I’ll die if I go back out there.” The Brit flinched slightly at the idea. Green eyes darted away, Alfred sighing as he planted firm hands on the slightly shorter boy’s shoulders. ‘Can you live with that guilt Arthur?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You would hardly die.” But the livid look had faded. Arthur glanced back at him, his eyes weeping over the American’s shivering form with a worried frown. “Git, where’s your jacket?”
“Wasn’t rainin’ when I left.”
“Don’t you listen to the weather? They were calling for storms all day!” A hand grabbed his wrist, and suddenly Alfred was being dragged down the aisles. “Oi! Søren, I’m stealing your spare clothes!”
The spiky blond on stage didn’t even get time to response as Arthur dragged Alfred onto the stage, before behind the curtain.
He was met with the sudden sight of scrambling techi’s and actors. Feliciano and Lovino were up to their necks (almost literally) in fabric, Elizaveta standing nearby providing assistance. Kiku was rushing passed them with an arm full of brushes and paint cans, while Yao was perched on scaffolding, shouting down at Yong Soo and the infamous Scot to hold something stead, or something. Each one of them looked absolutely frazzled, leading Alfred to raise an eyebrow.
“Uh… What’s going on? Why’s everyone so freaked?”
“’s how everyone gets on the days the old man decides he wants to do a run through with as much of the set and costumes that we have finished.” Arthur responded with a roll of his eyes. “Such a pain in the ass. Seriously, only one costumes fully complete, not to mention the sets in utter shambles! And if we don’t put on a good run through…”
The stage-manager trailed off, before shaking his head. “Stay.”
Alfred waned to reply back with a sarcastic ‘where would I go?’, but opted not to. Arthur was in no mood for it, that much was clear. He remained quiet, watching the blond disappear into the sea of people. He watched lazily as the others passed by, a feeling of uselessness beginning to set in. And suddenly he wondered if it would be best to leave. He’d only get in the way. He was just about to step away, to head back to the hotel when a towel covered his head. Arthur’s ‘tsk’-ing was muted, the Brit toweling off Alfred’s soaking wet hair, before setting the towel around the American’s neck. Alfred looked up quietly, catching sight of an almost affectionate smile. “Honestly, what am I going to do with you?”
He wasn’t sure how to answer, and gratefully Arthur didn’t want a real one. Instead he just shoved a bundle of clothing into the American’s arms. “You’re lucky; Søren was supposed to have football practice after this, so he had his practice clothing. And yes, their clean. Alexander makes sure of that. At most they’ll be a bit big on you, but…”
“Thanks,” Arthur just shrugged, but he caught sight of the small blush on the others cheeks. So, without another word, Alfred entered the bathroom. It was an absolute mess, really. Brushes were sitting in the sink, paint still in half of them. And he could just imagine Arthur seeing the state of the brushes, they would probably storm out of the bathroom livid. Lecturing the other crew members, telling them they couldn’t just leave dirty brushes there; that they had to clean their own brushes, not leave it for someone else. Though, he could also see the Brit just remaining in the bathroom, scrubbing each and every brush until they were perfectly clean. It made him smile, shaking his head as he peeled the soaked t-shirt over his head.
Arthur had been right, Søren’s clothes were big on him, but they were dry. And warm. Most importantly they were warm. So he really wasn’t going to complain about them being a bit baggy. Bundling up his soaked clothing, Alfred exited the room. He couldn’t spot Arthur in the seat of crazed people, a frown forming. Everyone was running around, all panicking from this impromptu run-through. And from some of the complaints he heard, this wasn’t new to them at all. In fact, it seemed like something Julius did quite often. Frowning he remained all but pressed against the wall, holding the soaked bundle of clothing. He wasn’t sure if he was suppose to stop someone to ask what he should do, but he had a distinct feeling no one would appreciate being stopped.
“Alfred!” He turned his head, just in time to see a familiar ribbon wearing blonde hurry towards him. Lily had her unfinished skirt bundled in one arm, while her free hand carried a bright green mug. She halted in front of him, handing him the steaming mug she had been carrying. “Arthur said he’s sorry, he’s running all around today. But here! Big brother made you some hot coco.”
“… Your brother made it?” Was it poisoned?
“Mmhmm! He makes the best hot coco out of everyone here! So Arthur asked him to make you some.” She took the dripping wet bundle of clothing from Alfred, smiling still. And before he could say a word, the little blonde had vanished into the crowd of rushing people.
Alfred was alone again, holding the steaming mug in his hands. Shivering from the lingering cold that remained even with the dry clothing, damp hair clinging to his face. Alfred shifted, pressing awkwardly against the wall shivering as he watched everyone pass by, waiting for the coco to cool down enough to drink.
Things were calming down now, and soon he caught sight of Arthur. The stage manager was balancing a clipboard in one hand, shouting out orders to others. He looked like a general in front of his troops. Alfred watched quietly as the orders were administered, before Arthur looked around. Those green eyes scanned through the thinning crowd, before locking on Alfred’s awkwardly standing form. Within a blink, the Brit was in front of him, a warmth suddenly enveloping Alfred. He blinked, a bit confused, before glancing down at the blanket Arthur was adjusting. He stared then dumbly, only half listening as Arthur admonished him yet again.
Arthur had brought him a blanket, had gotten him dry clothing and a warm drink. The dopey smile returned, and despite the fact he was most certainly still freezing (the shivers only lessening a bit), he felt contently warm. Arthur noticed the smile, raising on bushy eyebrow.
“What’s with the smile? Is me calling you a bumbling oaf amusing?”
“So what can I do?” Alfred avoided the question, instead glancing around. “I mean, I’m here. Might as well help out!”
At this Arthur looked down guiltily. And Alfred was about to say something when the Brit spoke up. “I’m sorry; I should have called you to let you know not to come in today.”
Arthur was still fixing the blanket, running his hands up and down Alfred’s arms in an attempt no doubt to warm him. Still though, he avoided looking at the American. “There really isn’t much that can be done today. We’ll all be figuring out rough cues, that is, when to move the set. Along with helping the actors get the props, whatever ones that are ready to be used that is. And do their costume changes, or as much changing as they can do. And on top of that, Vash and I have to start getting a rough idea of lighting, what would look best and such. Honestly, you came here for no reason. I’m so sorry…”
And he did look incredibly sorry. Shifting from foot-to-foot, fiddling with the edge of the blanket. It made Alfred’s gut twist uneasily, and he forced a smile onto his face again. “Hey, no worries. It was a surprise run-through, right? No way you could’ve known!”
He reasoned, trying to mollify the guilt as he rested a hand over one of Arthur’s fidgeting ones. Arthur as a response went suddenly stiff, slowly lifting his head until green met blue. Alfred hadn’t realized how close they were… His cheeks felt warm as he cleared his throat nervously, unable to look away. “’S-sides, I’m the crazy one who just didn’t head back when the rain started gettin’ crazy or just opt to stay at the hotel ‘cause of Ivan. Oh man, he probably checked weather! I mean, that’s probably why he decided to just hang out at the hotel instead of comin’ along. Though maybe he knew… Bastard probably did! ‘Cause he was here yesterday so they coul-”
Arthur, thankfully, covered his mouth. Ceasing the nervous rambling. However, it allowed for an awkward silence to settle over them.
Arthur’s hand shifted, trailing against Alfred’s cheek before brushing still damp bangs out of his eyes. Before those same fingers trailed through the American’s equally damp hair. Alfred felt his heart suddenly lodge itself in his throat, unable to look away from Arthur’s eyes. They were entrancing, drawing him in. Deeper and deeper. And Alfred realized belatedly that was because they were both moving closer, leaning in to one another’s faces. Soon he could feel the others breath against his lips. Another inch and…
And Arthur had pulled away suddenly, his face beet red. The trance was broken, Alfred looking away, holding the almost forgotten blanket closer around himself. The stage-manager coughed, keeping his gaze on anything but Alfred. The awkward silence settled over them again, though this time he was sure it had doubled in size.
Had that really almost happened? Had they almost… Did that mean…?
“Arthur, I um…” Need to say something. He had to! But there was so much that needed to be said. Should he ask about yesterday? Hell, what about just now? Were they…
“I’ll, um, call you a cab or something to take you back to your hotel. Don’t worry. I’ll pay.”
“Kickin’ me out?” An amused grin formed. “Seriously, it won’t be the end of the world if I see a little bit of the performance.”
To that he was met with the scowl h e had predicted. “Yes, but I’d much rather you see the play in its entirety, when we’ve perfecting it. Now when we’re fumbling about!”
“Arthur, please?” He held his hands in front of him as if in prayer, jutting his lower lip out in a pout and leaning forward. Skillfully and successfully invading Arthur’s personal bubble. The Brit flushed, though his scowl remained firmly set. Alfred however did not stop, continuing to give Arthur the puppy look. The other blond looked away promptly, but Alfred scuttled to Arthur’s new vantage point. It continued back and forth, before Arthur released an exasperated sigh, throwing his hands up. “No Alfred! You cannot-”
“Artie, you aren’t going to kick out our honorary-member, are you?” Julius Vargas’s booming voice echoed around them. Alfred jumped as a result, while Arthur rolled his eyes. Turning to face on of the wings where soon Alfred caught sight of the troupes leader standing on the stage, peeking through the wing at them. If possible, Arthur’s scowl deepened at the intrusion.
“One, don’t call me that. Two, he can’t stay!”
“Sure he can!” Julius strolled backstage to join them, wrapping an arm around Alfred. “He’ll sit with me!”
“But we-”
“It would be good to get an audiences perspective!” And like that, Arthur was overruled.
Soon afterwards Alfred found himself sitting in one of the plump theatre seats, Julius standing beside him.
On stage they were still preparing. Lovino and Arthur both were barking out orders to the frazzled crew and cast. But things were calming down.
“Don’t let the Lion bother you.”
“He didn’t.” Alfred leaned back, drawing the clanked closer around himself. The hot coco mug rested against one knee, half drained. And Lily had been right. It was the most delicious cup of coco he had ever had. “I wasn’t planning on leaving. I just don’t get why he’s so set on not letting me see any of the actual play. Hell! He won’t even let me see any of the backdrops or finished set pieces! Even if I helped build or paint ‘em!”
“Yeah, he’s like that.” The Empire’s leader laughed that same booming laugh that seemed able to catch anyone’s attention. In fact, the troupe hardly seemed to notice the echoing noise. Continuing to go about their business onstage. “Don’t mind him though; Arthur loves the idea of creating a magical world through the stage. He doesn’t want anyone outside of the troupe to see the play in progress. Not until that world has been born.”
A fond smile had formed across the older man’s lips as he watched the stage. “I still remember back when I first took him to see a play. It was Peter Pan; he was only about ten at the time. And really, the kid was so cynical; I thought any of that child inside him was gone. I figured he’d just scowl throughout the entire production. That he’d wish for Tinker Bell’s death!” The smile spread. “But when I looked over to him during the play…”
A softer chuckle this time, and their was a loving twinkle in the mans eyes. Like the twinkle parents got when talking about their children. “His eyes were so big, and there was this innocence I’d never seen. He’d become a little boy again. The little guy was entranced by the play. And when it had finally ended, he just blinked owlishly. Staring at the stage for the longest time before looking at me. ‘Can I do that one day?’ I asked him what he meant, he just pointed to the stage. ‘Can I make magic?’.”
Alfred couldn’t help but feel he had just heard something very intimate about the grumpy Brit. Maybe something Arthur didn’t want people knowing. And yet, he couldn’t help but listen eagerly to the man as he continued to speak.
“I swear that was the first time I ever saw the kid smile. And after that I started bringing him along to practices. Each time he entered the theatre, he was always so wide eyed; he always got the biggest smile on his face when someone would offer to teach him something. He would become an innocent little boy again. It was always one adventure after the next.”
“He always been a backstage guy?”
Mr. Vargas hummed, a tiny frown tugging at the smile. “No… He use to want to do everything. And he was a good actor.” Alfred could believe that. He’d seen Arthur recite lines with precision when he thought no one was around. “He’s quick at memorizing lines, and he retains them. I’m pretty damn sure he could still remember every single line from when we did A Midsummer’s Night Dream three years ago.” And then came a tired sigh. “But he has horrible stage-fright. When he would get onstage in front of an audience, he’d freeze. Forget everything. First time it happened he couldn’t even move.”
The smile however returned. “I don’t think he minds though. He’d always found backstage far more interesting.”
“Why?”
“Well, how would the show go on if you didn’t have the people working behind the scenes?” Alfred fell silent. The smile shifted to one of amusement, promptly rising to his feet and calling for order. “Alright folks! Today is the day you dreaded. One of my infamous impromptu full rehearsals. So, we’re just going to go through the show. Actors, keep your scripts in your pockets, I want to see how much you’ve all got down. And my lovely stage crew, listen to Arthur, he has rough cues. So just do as many transitions as you can! I want to see how far we can get become I need to stop you! Oh! And Artie-”
“One, don’t call me that. Two, I know, I know.” He was sure Arthur rolled his eyes. “Do what I always do.”
“Exactly! Alright folks. Let’s get started!”
They didn’t last five minutes before Mr. Vargas called the practice to a halt. But only to request one of the actors to speak up. Things though did not go smoothly. Alfred felt like he was watching a train wreck. In slow motion.
“They get better.” Mr. Vargas assured him. “By act two they’ll be off their scripts and flowing smoothly.”
“How d’you know?”
“Because backstage Arthur’s lecturing them all.” He could feel the man’s eyes on him, and when he looked that amused smile was back. “He’ll make sure they at least get off their scripts for you.”
“For me..?”
“He wants to impress you.” Mr. Vargas shrugged, before calling rehearsals to a halt. “Louder Lils! I can’t hear you!”
Lily blushed onstage, hiding behind Søren.
“Why would he…” The American trailed off, feeling his face heat up. Damn it, he really needed to talk to Arthur. Not knowing for sure was driving him mad.
It seemed to amuse Mr. Vargas though; the man was chuckling, leaning back in his seat. Alfred wished there was a rock he could crawl under and die. “You two have fun yesterday?”
“Ye-yeah. Went to The Globe.”
“Ah! You see Emma and her brother?” Alfred thought for a minute, before nodding. Mr. Vargas laughed. “I miss those two. Both used to be members of the troupe, but they got those jobs. And I could hardly tell them not to work at The Globe!”
“She seemed nice. Emma I mean.”
“Mmhmm, real sweet heart.” He grinned. “Lovino use to have the biggest crush on her.”
For some reason he couldn’t see that. “Arthur and her seemed to be good friends.”
“Yeah. They lived in the same house before her Uncle became her and her brother’s legal guardian.”
Alfred blinked. “Huh?”
“That was… About a year before I met him. Apparently she was the only one that could keep him from getting into trouble.”
“Wait… Wa-Wait! What d’you mean?”
Mr. Vargas blinked, before shrugging. “Well… Arthur use to live with the two.”
“You mean like-”
“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” The voice was so low, like a knife really. Alfred felt himself freeze, and if he wasn’t mistaken the troupe had too. Mr. Vargas remained the only one unaffected by the frost that seemed to radiate off Arthur.
Slowly Alfred turned his head to look back at Arthur, blue eyes wide, averting quickly. He couldn’t even look at Arthur’s face. Suddenly feeling like he had betrayed the Brit’s trust. The stage-manager was shaking, hands holding onto the clip board so tightly his knuckles were white. “Who the bleeding Hell gave you the fucking right to spout shit about my life!?”
“Aaaw, don’t be like that! I didn’t do anything.” Mr. Vargas was suddenly like a child, looking up at Arthur. And Alfred had to wonder how he didn’t turn to stone. Arthur looked ready to break his clip board in half, over Mr. Vargas’s head.
“My life is not a story you can tell others about.” Arthur’s voice was surprisingly level. The knife edge remained however.
“I wasn’t telling a story.” Mr. Vargas pointed out. “We were having a conversation.”
“About my life!”
“About how you knew Emma.” The troupe leader clarified. “Alfred was curious.”
The American cringed, and suddenly Arthur had rounded on him. “What?”
The single word was like a gunshot. Alfred felt tongue tied, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I just… We were just talking and stuff. About why you didn’t want me seein’ anything before it was done and how Mr. Vargas took you to see Peter Pan when you were little-”
“You told him what!?” Arthur’s face flushed slightly, throwing his clip board at the Italian, who caught it with ease.
“Like I said, we were having a conversation and Emma came up.” The troupe leaders’ smile was carefree, but Alfred could see a seriousness seeping into his eyes. “Arthur, there’s no need-”
“Finish the cues your fucking self!” Alfred was afraid to move, watching as Arthur stormed out of the theatre, slamming the front door shut so hard he swore the building shook.
“Think that’s a record.” Søren shouted. “Normally it takes two rehearsals for you to make him storm off!”
There were murmurs amongst the troupe. And he swore he saw Yong Soo collecting money from a few actors. Feliciano meanwhile had rushed out from the backstage area, eyes wide.
“Wh-What happened!? Why did fratello get so angry?”
“Idiot!” Lovino snapped, following after his brother. “Gramps, what did you do!?”
“Why am I always the bad guy!?”
“Because you’re the one who pisses him off?” Lovino suggested, planting his good hand on his hip. “Now what did you do?”
“Nothing! We were just talking!”
“About?”
“Sounded like Art’s past and shit. Emma came up.” Søren chimed in, handing Yong Soo a few pounds.
Lovino blushed slightly at the mention of the female, before his scowl deepened. “Gramps!”
There was more yelling, but Alfred hardly paid attention to it. His eyes remained locked on the door, as if waiting for Arthur to come back.
But he never did.
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