These Boots Are Made For Walkin' 7/?
Dude.
I've just found the most perfect song for this fic. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_f8h1xtkb0U <----!!!!!XDD
Title: These Boots Are Made For Walkin'
Series: Hetalia Axis Powers
Rating: 17
Warning: ArthurAngstx2, ENTER FRANCIS!!!
Pairings: US/UK, PolLiet, possible Rus/US (though its fleeting and creepy) and a few more...hanging around.
Summary: Alfred, a student in a London University, has a strong mindset that Love exists as more than a hormone, and that everyone is entitled to love and be loved. So when he meets a male prostitute after a freak escape, will his mindset be shaken?
Alfred snorted as he jolted back into consciousness. He moaned softly and lifted his head, rubbing his eyes with his his knuckle and looking around.
“Sorry to wake you guys.” Feliks was leaning down slightly, his blond hair falling over his shoulder, and his pale hands pressed into the duvet from his attempts at shaking him awake as gently as possible. “You have to move it soon; Mr Felicita just swung by. He said the police 've been called and their gonna be here in a few minuets.”
Alfred groaned and stretched, his toes curling and his back popping. There was a hazy glow of sleep floating in the air. He blinked and looked at Arthur, cocooned in the duvet and leaning against him. His body warm from them lying in the cushy duvets with one another. He had forgotten that they had fallen asleep on the couch. Together. It gave him a slight buzz.
Alfred placed his hands on Arthur's shoulders and shook him softly as Feliks walked away, pottering about and attempting to help Toris clean up the dorm and make it halfway respectable for the strangers that where going to be poking about there soon. “Hay.” Alfred murmured, tilting his head slightly to gaze into the smaller man's face. “Hay, Arthur, you gotta get up.”
At this proximity Alfred could see little details on Arthur's face that set that strange glow in his chest. He gazed at the older man, taking in the light dusting of freckles over his cheeks, the way his top lip was bigger than his lower, and the man's long, sweeping eyelashes. Arthur scrunched his face up slightly in his sleep. Alfred smiled as he watched the man's head tilt from one side to the other, soft murmurs escaping his sleeping lips. “Arthur.” The American called again. “It's time to get up.”
The Englishman gave a moan clearly in the negative and buried his face into the crook of Alfred's neck with a warm 'whumph' of a sigh.
Alfred froze, the feel of Arthur's butterfly fluttering eyelashes and the soft brush of skin from the press of nose and lips against his sensitive neck causing Alfred's hair to stand on end. He felt warm puffs of air ghost across his skin as the man breathed. In and out. In and out.
Alfred didn't realise that he had stopped breathing until the sweep of Arthur's eyelashes lifted and didn't fall, and the sweet breaths of air against the nape of his neck stopped, and came again with more control.
Arthur lifted his head and stared at what could only have been a pink blur, then as the circuits in his brain began to reconnect, he blinked and drew back.
Alfred was regarding him with the most peculiar expression, as if he dared not breath, nor blink, nor even attempt to look away from a small animal that may do anything at the slightest movement.
Arthur frowned in his sleep-befuddled way, dragging a hand through his choppy blond hair and causing it to stick up, revealing the multiple piercing holes in his ear and a smooth cut of jaw. He glanced back to the crook in Alfred's neck, then back to the man's face, which appeared even more panicked than ever.
Alfred watched as the realisation dawned on Arthur, and a heavy, burning blush engulf the man's face from the tips of his ears, to the tip of his nose.
“Ah...Ah...Ah...”
“Arthur, the police have been called and their gonna be here soon.”
Alfred and Arthur turned to look at Toris as he straightened up the dorm.
There was a moment of silence and Alfred felt the mood slip away like a cold breeze.
Abruptly Arthur hung his head for a second, seemingly staring at nothing. His salt-and-pepper bangs sweeping into his eyes, and suddenly he was standing. Alfred stood too and helped him fold the duvet.
He gathered the blanket in his arms and watched Arthur pat down the pillows. Alfred let his chin sink into the softness for a while. He wondered how Arthur felt about the offer of a place at his university. He wondered what the other man must have been thinking. What thoughts, worries, fears, hopes, where floating around his head now? Alfred realised how childish he must have looked, then turned and walked down the hall. He bundled the covers into his bedroom, then picked them up again and spread them properly over his bed. The police wouldn't want to search his room would they? He stopped on his way to the door, turned on his heel and inspected his room with a critical eye.
In the end the pangs of guilt proved too much and he picked up some clothes that had been lying sporadically on the carpet and shoved them into the darkest corners of his dresser. He toed a stack of comics into a slightly more presentable pile and glanced about his room again.
Catching sight of his desk chair standing idly by a poster of Captain America (he did not need to take down that poster, there was no way that Captain America could induce a panic attack!) he placed his hands on it's back to return it to where it belonged.
Alfred blinked and paused, catching sight of a splash of colour and white. He lifted the sweater he had been wearing the night before from where it had been thrown haphazardly onto the seat and ran his fingers over the worn jersey. An image of Arthur, pressed against this sweater, curled up against his chest, just the night before swam into his mind.
Alfred blinked, beneath his jersey lay a white tee-shirt of Alfred's. It was a simple Muse shirt with the band's name printed across the front in bold black lettering. It lay perfectly folded into a neat square of soft cotton, hidden beneath Alfred's clutter. He paused for a second and glanced over his shoulder at the closed door, then returned his sight back to the shirt. It had been the shirt Alfred had randomly pulled out of the mess to give to Arthur to wear as a nightshirt.
The memory of Arthur in his bed with him, lying so close to each other, drew itself before his eyes. Perfectly clear and coloured by the white dawn light. Arthur's beautiful face, framed by his messy hair, breathing quietly as he slept. Making soft noises as Alfred unconsciously pulled him closer.
Alfred pressed his face to the jersey, hunching his shoulders and shaking his head.
He had it bad.
He opened his chest of draws and those too joined the clothes in the shadowy recesses.
Leaving his room in a slightly blunted sight of disarray he dusted off his hands and made his way back to the main room.
Just as there was a knock at the door.
All four of them froze, Arthur still clutching a pillow, and Toris trying to convince Feliks not to hide beneath his bed from the strangers.
None of them moved and the knock had to come again before Alfred could force his legs to obey.
He reached for the copper door handle, fixed his face into a friendly smile, then pulled the door open.
Three police officers stood outside in the hallway. One had black hair, cut short to show his slate-like face. The other had brown hair, also short, but the curls came slightly softer.
However it was the man in the middle who demanded Alfred's attention. He stood slightly apart and faced Alfred side-on, as if he where leisurely taking in his surroundings and had all the time in the world. He was tall, though Alfred still was a few centimetres taller, and carried himself like a prince. His hair was long and wavy, pulled back in a short ponytail that rang something of the Romantic period, as if he where unstuck in time and dragged back all the Period glamour with him. A few locks of his hair had slipped free of the band and tumbled down to frame his fair face and high cheekbones. His jaw was square, yet still elegant, from his floorless skin, to the dusting of stubble across his chin. He blinked lazily and fixed Alfred with a pair of sea-blue eyes beneath blond lashes.
Alfred didn't like this man's eyes. They harboured something arrogant, almost uncaring, the haze of someone used to getting their own way. They bored into Alfred in a kind of hot appreciation that made him feel...
Then abruptly the man smiled and Alfred blinked at the sudden change.
“Good evening, sir.” The man grinned in a singing French accent, offering his gloved hand to shake. Alfred glanced down at it, then took it. “My name is Francis Bonnefoy, and I'll be your Officer for this evening.” Officer Bonnefoy threw his head back and laughed.
After the officers flashed their ID badges Alfred gestured for them to come in and Officer Bonnefoy crossed the threshold, pulling off his gloves and gazing around the room. “Now what seems to be the problem?”
“Err...” The man's sunny demeanour was catching and he felt himself beginning to relax. “Well I've been getting threatening calls from someone.”
Officer Bonnefoy's eyes fell apon him with an understanding kind of pity. “Rabid fangirls?”
Alfred chuckled lightly. “Not quite.”
Alfred began his story again from the beginning and Officer Bonnefoy folded his arms and leaned on one leg, nodding in encouragement and looking concerned. The other two took notes and gazed about the room, taking in details Alfred could only assume where relevant to police.
He was explaining the point where he had escaped Ivan Braginsky's car to the Officers when he noticed Arthur edging towards the door, eyes fixed on Officer Bonnefoys back, and moving as silently as possible. Alfred frowned.
“Arthur, where are you going?” He asked, breaking his gaze from the Officers'.
Officer Bonnefoy turned and offered the man a beaming smile.
A heartbeat passed and both men froze. Alfred watched in confusion as Francis Bonnefoy's entire persona changed again. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped the smile. His hands twitched and his spine tensed through the dark uniform.
Alfred's eyebrows pulled together, not sure whether to be concerned or on his toes.
Francis seemed almost disbelieving, looking the shorter man up and down. “Arthur? Arthur Kirkland?”
“Francis.” Arthur spat.
“What on earth are you doing here?”
Arthur's gaze fixed itself to a point on the wall and something stabbed in Alfred's stomach.
He stepped forward and let an easy, masking smile onto his face. “Arthur's a student here.” He said, a hint of forcefulness underlying his words. He would not let anything upset Arthur's new life. Especially not so early in it's birth.
A moment passed and Alfred prayed that the tension would relax.
It did no such thing.
An ugly smirk formed itself on Francis' face, marring his perfection and deepening his eyes.
“Oh?” Francis said slowly, mockingly. “I wasn't awair that prostitutes could afford a university education.”
Alfred winced. Feliks let out a soft noise. And the two other Officers threw looks of surprise and disgust at Arthur, standing by the door like a cornered animal with a spotlight thrown on it.
Alfred's smile cracked, but he cemented it more firmly to his face. “Well, he's a student here, so he's already taken the first step to escaping that job. Now please, can we just...”
Francis gave another cackle of laughter.
“Arthur! A student! Mon Dieu.”
Arthur's face contorted with rage. His posture shifting from trying to avoid being spotted, to open hostility. “Shut up, Bonnefoy.” He snarled.
Francis' laughter quelled to quiet chuckles as he regarded Arthur. “I apologise.” He said, though sorry was the last thing that sentence sounded like. “I did not expect you to make in calls to students now.”
Arthur's face flushed and his eyes sparkled with anger. “I am a student here, Francis.”
“Oh, I do not doubt you.” He replied, his own eye glinting “It's just hard to imagine the twisted little whore I used to pound into the mattress picking up the books like a good little boy.”
Alfred's blood filled with icy poison. His face completely devoid of anything but horror. This man, this man he was meant to trust. He was meant to enforce the law, to look out for people who where in trouble. Yet Officer Bonnefoy was laying into one of the best people Alfre'd knew. He may not know the things Arthur had done in the past, or the horror's he had to live through, but Alfred knew that Arthur was a good person.
Francis tucked a lock of golden hair back into the band, continuing in a haughty voice. “Oh dear. Now that my petite ange is gone, who will I call when I'm feeling.” He pinned Arthur down with his cold blue eyes. “Aggressively despondent.”
Toris caught Alfred's fist before it sank into Francis' face. The man turned and looked wide-eyed at Alfred, who was panting hard and staring at Francis with an expression of disbelief.
Toris locked eyes with the man before him. “Sir.” He stated calmly “Seeing as how you have been of no assistance to us what so ever, and displayed the most disgusting prejudice I have ever witnessed, I would like you to leave now, or I will call the teachers to have you removed.”
Francis blinked at the smaller brunette man. Then the corners of his mouth twitched up again.
“Alright.” He said, and made his way to the door, the two other Officers in tow, one looking guilty, the other with an air of indifference. Arthur turned as they walked passed him, and Officer Francis Bonnefoy stopped by the open door, glancing back. “Though I hope you realise that I shall report back as following up a hoax call, and I shall call the other stations to warn them not to fall for the claims of attempted rape and stalking, as it's simply four university students fucking around.”
And with that, he was gone.
Alfred pointed at the door and turned to his friends. “He can't do that.” he said. “He can't do that!”
“Alfred!” Toris snapped “Calm down, I'm going to get Mr Felicita.” and Toris left the dorm.
“It's alright, Alfred, this will get sorted.” Feliks reassured, though he seemed to be shaking slightly in the aftermath.
Alfred looked around. “Arthur?” He called, but the smaller man had gone somewhere.
Alfred stamped on the little nagging sensation of worry before it could grow and set about checking the rooms. He opened the door to Feliks' room and called “Arthur?” Then he ducked into his own and called the man's name again. “Arthur?”
Alfred shut the door and turned to the last room in the dorm. He walked down the short hallway and stopped by the closed door. Beyond he could hear someone singing softly to themselves.
“You keep sayin' you got something for me.
Something you call love, but confess.
You've been messin' where you shouldn't have been messin'
and now someone else is getting' all your best.”
Alfred opened the door. Arthur was sitting on the edge of the bath, one of his thigh-length, steel-tipped boots leaning against his leg, the other was on his arm as he ran a cloth over it's leather.
“These boots are made for walkin'
and that's just what they'll do.
One of these days these boots are gonna
walk all over you.”
Arthur looked up, his beautiful green eyes dim. Alfred remembered that day, only a few days ago, where he had found Arthur, talked to him in that alleyway. His eyes had been dim just like they where now.
“I'm sorry, Alfred.” He said softly.
Alfred flinched at how sad that voice was. How acceptant of what life gave him. “For what?” He asked.
“For being there.” Arthur replied simply. “I shouldn't have been there.”
“That's ridiculous.” Alfred said firmly. He came forward and sat by Arthur, close enough so their arms pressed against one another. “It was them who where wrong.” Alfred couldn't find the words that summed up just how evil that experience had seemed.
Arthur sighed and looked up at the white ceiling of the bathroom, arms resting between his knees, back curved. “But he's right. I don't belong here.”
Alfred grabbed Arthur by the arms, forcing him around. “That's bullshit and you know it.” He snapped. “Everyone deserves a chance. No one can help where life puts them.”
Arthur wouldn't meet his eyes. He was gazing off into the distance, passed the sink, to something Alfred couldn't see. “But life did put me there.” He murmured.
Alfred was loosing him. He couldn't believe that all the hard work they had put in, the trials they had faced to get Arthur his chance, a chance that he had gotten, where to be undone, unravelled by the words of one haughty man.
Alfred shook Arthur's arms, attempting to keep him in the present. “But you're here now, Arthur!” He insisted, squeezing his arms as if to reinforce that fact.“You have your chance to make something of yourself, let the world know about what you have to contribute to it!”
Arthur's eyes finally slipped back to Alfred's and something tugged viscously in Alfred's gut when he saw that the glimmer, the spark that had appeared in those green depths that day in the elevator, wasn't there any more.
“And what if I was never meant to have that chance. What if, by being here, I've taken someone else's chance. There's one less place in this university because of me.”
Alfred looked lost for a moment. What could he say? Just how deeply did Arthur believe this? How far had Arthur's opinion of himself fallen? He looked down at the boots. One still on Arthur's arm. He let go of Arthur and took hold of the cold leather, yanking it off as Arthur cried out in surprise, and throwing the shoes into the corner of the room.
He grabbed Arthur again looking deep into his eyes. “Arthur.” He said, his accent drawing out the R and U. “We make our own way in this world, and if anyone is worthy of a place in it, it's you.”
Time passed and they sat there, Alfred desperately trying to save the pieces of Arthur he had put back together, and Arthur, though falling apart, was strangely calm.
Arthur looked up and met Alfred's eyes. He smiled and Alfred lost him.
“But the world doesn't want me, Alfred.” He said softly, as if Alfred was the one in need of comfort. “It never wanted me when I was born, growing up, and it will never want me when I grow older, and when I die there will be nothing.” Arthur's eyes flickered to the side, where the door was slightly ajar. He fancied he could practically see The Void, hiding in the shadows of the hallway. It had finally caught back up with him. “My family never wanted me, and everything I've ever had has gone.” He drew himself up. Bold to the last. “The world would never want to listen to someone who has a past like mine, I have moved on, Alfred. The only people who want me are the one's who need a quick fuck with an emotionless shell. Find someone else to save.”
Alfred grit his teeth and practically growled at the man before him. “Fuck that, Arthur.” He glared “That's not true. You've only been here a few days and the people who've met you like you. They love you, Arthur, they've accepted you. They want you to be here! I want you!”
Arthur gasped and Alfred realised how close they had gotten when he felt Arthur's breath ghost across his lips.
Arthur's features had blurred, so Alfred couldn't see his expression. If he had, he didn't know if he would have been brave enough to continue.
Alfred blinked slowly, once, twice, then let his eyelids slip closed as he pressed his lips to Arthur's.
Arthur gasped, the noise coming out as a surprised mewl. Alfred felt the smouldering fire in his chest explode into life, roaring through him and twisting through his limbs. He wrapped his arms around Arthur's back, one hand coming up to card through his hair.
Alfred wanted to show Arthur affection, care, and security. He wanted to show him that people cared. People wanted him for more than sex, they wanted him for love, words, laughter, tears, they wanted him for him.
Alfred wanted him. He wanted Arthur.
He had never kissed anyone this seriously before. As jokes, kisses among friends, under mistletoe. But never with someone who made him feel this alive. With someone he would fight anyone for. With someone he wanted to be happy above all others.
Alfred was determined to show Arthur what he deserved. He deepened the kiss, fitting their mouths more firmly together. He opened his mouth slightly, opening Arthur's, and moved his lips against the other man's. Arthur's shallow breaths confused themselves with Alfred's own. Alfred worked Arthur's lips under his own. Kissing them. Pillowing his mouth over them. Thrilling at how he felt. They where damp and soft and Alfred never wanted to stop kissing him.
He pulled Arthur closer and touched his tongue to Arthur's lip, then slid it gently into Arthur's mouth. He practically moaned at the sensation. Arthur's mouth was hot and wet. Arthur's arm suddenly slammed into his back, his hand gripped the back of his shirt in a tight fist.
Alfred kissed Arthur for a few more delicious moments, then broke away.
Their faces stayed close and Alfred couldn't help but kiss those pink, soft lips one more time. Or two. Or three.
Alfred drew further back and looked at Arthur, all the love, all the affection, the caring he tried to convey through his eyes to the man his arms where wrapped around.
Arthur looked at him with wide, clear eyes. He breathed quickly, one arm to his chest, the other still fisted in Alfred's shirt with a grip of steel.
“Alfred!” A call came from down the hall. “Mr Felicita and Mr Schwertschmied are here!” Alfred looked up, then looked back to Arthur. He squeezed Arthur's arms reassuringly.
“This will be sorted out, Ok?” He said.
Then he turned and bolted down the hall. The two teachers looked furious, even Mr Felicita. That was just scary.
Feliks was speaking quickly and loudly, gesticulating wildly at the teachers, while Toris tried to calm him down and repeated what his partner said with more understandable words.
Alfred chipped in his own parts of what had just happened, and by the end of it the teachers looked as if they would break something.
“This is unforgivable.” Mr Felicita growled “I'm going back to the staffroom. The other teachers with be informed.”
Mr Schwertschmied faced the small group of students, his calm air unbroken “The situation is still under control. ” He said, then turned and followed the other teacher out of the room.
They where silent for a moment then Feliks spoke softly. “What's going to happen now?”
Toris threw his arm around Feliks' shoulders “We go to sleep now.” He said authoritatively “Then we get up tomorrow, attend lectures, write essays” He gave his partner, and his friend a hard look “And look after eachother.”
“Good night, Alfred.”
“Good night, Toris.”
Feliks stared forward suddenly and wrapped his arms around Alfred's waist. Then he let go and flashed Alfred a confident smirk. Taking Toris' hand, he led the brunette man to his room.
Alfred sighed, then headed to the kitchen. He leaned his head against the wall as he waited for the machine to make him a precious cup of coffee.
With the police gone what was left to stop Ivan? And what about Francis' threat?
Alfred shook his head and walked over to the coffee machine, staring at it so intensely that it almost bubbled under his gaze. The thoughts, the questions, the worries swirled around his mind, each one echoing in his ears. He blinked and frowned away the questions.
Thinking to much about what-if's was just going to set him off again, and he didn't need that.
Arthur suddenly came to the front of his mind. He beautiful, pale face, his wide green eyes, those pink, soft, kissable lips.
He had kissed him. Alfred didn't even know if Arthur wanted to do things like that with him. For all he knew, Arthur might just think he was using him.
Alfred left the coffee machine, it's little red light still glowing, and ran back to the bathroom.
Of course it was empty, he couldn't expect Arthur to just stay where he was.
Alfred turned to head towards his bedroom when his eyes fell on the corner of the bathroom.
There was nothing there. It was empty.
Alfred frowned, then his eyes flew wide open.
He turned and headed towards his bedroom door, his steps long. Just because the boots weren't there any more didn't mean he should assume the worst. It didn't mean...
Alfred came halt. His white bedroom door before him. He set his hand on the handle and turned it, pushing the door open.
It was empty.
Alfred stepped in, just to make sure, he looked around the dark room, then blinked as his foot sant into something soft and made of cotton. He looked down. Then he bent over, picking the shirt up.
It was the shirt Arthur had been wearing.
Alfred cried out and bolted from the room. He slammed his fist against the door of Feliks' bedroom and threw the door open.
The two men blinked groggily at him, then their eyes widened as they took in his panicked expression.
Alfred waved the shirt at them. Arthur's shirt.
“Arthur's gone!”
I've just found the most perfect song for this fic. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_f8h1xtkb0U <----!!!!!XDD
Title: These Boots Are Made For Walkin'
Series: Hetalia Axis Powers
Rating: 17
Warning: ArthurAngstx2, ENTER FRANCIS!!!
Pairings: US/UK, PolLiet, possible Rus/US (though its fleeting and creepy) and a few more...hanging around.
Summary: Alfred, a student in a London University, has a strong mindset that Love exists as more than a hormone, and that everyone is entitled to love and be loved. So when he meets a male prostitute after a freak escape, will his mindset be shaken?
Alfred snorted as he jolted back into consciousness. He moaned softly and lifted his head, rubbing his eyes with his his knuckle and looking around.
“Sorry to wake you guys.” Feliks was leaning down slightly, his blond hair falling over his shoulder, and his pale hands pressed into the duvet from his attempts at shaking him awake as gently as possible. “You have to move it soon; Mr Felicita just swung by. He said the police 've been called and their gonna be here in a few minuets.”
Alfred groaned and stretched, his toes curling and his back popping. There was a hazy glow of sleep floating in the air. He blinked and looked at Arthur, cocooned in the duvet and leaning against him. His body warm from them lying in the cushy duvets with one another. He had forgotten that they had fallen asleep on the couch. Together. It gave him a slight buzz.
Alfred placed his hands on Arthur's shoulders and shook him softly as Feliks walked away, pottering about and attempting to help Toris clean up the dorm and make it halfway respectable for the strangers that where going to be poking about there soon. “Hay.” Alfred murmured, tilting his head slightly to gaze into the smaller man's face. “Hay, Arthur, you gotta get up.”
At this proximity Alfred could see little details on Arthur's face that set that strange glow in his chest. He gazed at the older man, taking in the light dusting of freckles over his cheeks, the way his top lip was bigger than his lower, and the man's long, sweeping eyelashes. Arthur scrunched his face up slightly in his sleep. Alfred smiled as he watched the man's head tilt from one side to the other, soft murmurs escaping his sleeping lips. “Arthur.” The American called again. “It's time to get up.”
The Englishman gave a moan clearly in the negative and buried his face into the crook of Alfred's neck with a warm 'whumph' of a sigh.
Alfred froze, the feel of Arthur's butterfly fluttering eyelashes and the soft brush of skin from the press of nose and lips against his sensitive neck causing Alfred's hair to stand on end. He felt warm puffs of air ghost across his skin as the man breathed. In and out. In and out.
Alfred didn't realise that he had stopped breathing until the sweep of Arthur's eyelashes lifted and didn't fall, and the sweet breaths of air against the nape of his neck stopped, and came again with more control.
Arthur lifted his head and stared at what could only have been a pink blur, then as the circuits in his brain began to reconnect, he blinked and drew back.
Alfred was regarding him with the most peculiar expression, as if he dared not breath, nor blink, nor even attempt to look away from a small animal that may do anything at the slightest movement.
Arthur frowned in his sleep-befuddled way, dragging a hand through his choppy blond hair and causing it to stick up, revealing the multiple piercing holes in his ear and a smooth cut of jaw. He glanced back to the crook in Alfred's neck, then back to the man's face, which appeared even more panicked than ever.
Alfred watched as the realisation dawned on Arthur, and a heavy, burning blush engulf the man's face from the tips of his ears, to the tip of his nose.
“Ah...Ah...Ah...”
“Arthur, the police have been called and their gonna be here soon.”
Alfred and Arthur turned to look at Toris as he straightened up the dorm.
There was a moment of silence and Alfred felt the mood slip away like a cold breeze.
Abruptly Arthur hung his head for a second, seemingly staring at nothing. His salt-and-pepper bangs sweeping into his eyes, and suddenly he was standing. Alfred stood too and helped him fold the duvet.
He gathered the blanket in his arms and watched Arthur pat down the pillows. Alfred let his chin sink into the softness for a while. He wondered how Arthur felt about the offer of a place at his university. He wondered what the other man must have been thinking. What thoughts, worries, fears, hopes, where floating around his head now? Alfred realised how childish he must have looked, then turned and walked down the hall. He bundled the covers into his bedroom, then picked them up again and spread them properly over his bed. The police wouldn't want to search his room would they? He stopped on his way to the door, turned on his heel and inspected his room with a critical eye.
In the end the pangs of guilt proved too much and he picked up some clothes that had been lying sporadically on the carpet and shoved them into the darkest corners of his dresser. He toed a stack of comics into a slightly more presentable pile and glanced about his room again.
Catching sight of his desk chair standing idly by a poster of Captain America (he did not need to take down that poster, there was no way that Captain America could induce a panic attack!) he placed his hands on it's back to return it to where it belonged.
Alfred blinked and paused, catching sight of a splash of colour and white. He lifted the sweater he had been wearing the night before from where it had been thrown haphazardly onto the seat and ran his fingers over the worn jersey. An image of Arthur, pressed against this sweater, curled up against his chest, just the night before swam into his mind.
Alfred blinked, beneath his jersey lay a white tee-shirt of Alfred's. It was a simple Muse shirt with the band's name printed across the front in bold black lettering. It lay perfectly folded into a neat square of soft cotton, hidden beneath Alfred's clutter. He paused for a second and glanced over his shoulder at the closed door, then returned his sight back to the shirt. It had been the shirt Alfred had randomly pulled out of the mess to give to Arthur to wear as a nightshirt.
The memory of Arthur in his bed with him, lying so close to each other, drew itself before his eyes. Perfectly clear and coloured by the white dawn light. Arthur's beautiful face, framed by his messy hair, breathing quietly as he slept. Making soft noises as Alfred unconsciously pulled him closer.
Alfred pressed his face to the jersey, hunching his shoulders and shaking his head.
He had it bad.
He opened his chest of draws and those too joined the clothes in the shadowy recesses.
Leaving his room in a slightly blunted sight of disarray he dusted off his hands and made his way back to the main room.
Just as there was a knock at the door.
All four of them froze, Arthur still clutching a pillow, and Toris trying to convince Feliks not to hide beneath his bed from the strangers.
None of them moved and the knock had to come again before Alfred could force his legs to obey.
He reached for the copper door handle, fixed his face into a friendly smile, then pulled the door open.
Three police officers stood outside in the hallway. One had black hair, cut short to show his slate-like face. The other had brown hair, also short, but the curls came slightly softer.
However it was the man in the middle who demanded Alfred's attention. He stood slightly apart and faced Alfred side-on, as if he where leisurely taking in his surroundings and had all the time in the world. He was tall, though Alfred still was a few centimetres taller, and carried himself like a prince. His hair was long and wavy, pulled back in a short ponytail that rang something of the Romantic period, as if he where unstuck in time and dragged back all the Period glamour with him. A few locks of his hair had slipped free of the band and tumbled down to frame his fair face and high cheekbones. His jaw was square, yet still elegant, from his floorless skin, to the dusting of stubble across his chin. He blinked lazily and fixed Alfred with a pair of sea-blue eyes beneath blond lashes.
Alfred didn't like this man's eyes. They harboured something arrogant, almost uncaring, the haze of someone used to getting their own way. They bored into Alfred in a kind of hot appreciation that made him feel...
Then abruptly the man smiled and Alfred blinked at the sudden change.
“Good evening, sir.” The man grinned in a singing French accent, offering his gloved hand to shake. Alfred glanced down at it, then took it. “My name is Francis Bonnefoy, and I'll be your Officer for this evening.” Officer Bonnefoy threw his head back and laughed.
After the officers flashed their ID badges Alfred gestured for them to come in and Officer Bonnefoy crossed the threshold, pulling off his gloves and gazing around the room. “Now what seems to be the problem?”
“Err...” The man's sunny demeanour was catching and he felt himself beginning to relax. “Well I've been getting threatening calls from someone.”
Officer Bonnefoy's eyes fell apon him with an understanding kind of pity. “Rabid fangirls?”
Alfred chuckled lightly. “Not quite.”
Alfred began his story again from the beginning and Officer Bonnefoy folded his arms and leaned on one leg, nodding in encouragement and looking concerned. The other two took notes and gazed about the room, taking in details Alfred could only assume where relevant to police.
He was explaining the point where he had escaped Ivan Braginsky's car to the Officers when he noticed Arthur edging towards the door, eyes fixed on Officer Bonnefoys back, and moving as silently as possible. Alfred frowned.
“Arthur, where are you going?” He asked, breaking his gaze from the Officers'.
Officer Bonnefoy turned and offered the man a beaming smile.
A heartbeat passed and both men froze. Alfred watched in confusion as Francis Bonnefoy's entire persona changed again. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped the smile. His hands twitched and his spine tensed through the dark uniform.
Alfred's eyebrows pulled together, not sure whether to be concerned or on his toes.
Francis seemed almost disbelieving, looking the shorter man up and down. “Arthur? Arthur Kirkland?”
“Francis.” Arthur spat.
“What on earth are you doing here?”
Arthur's gaze fixed itself to a point on the wall and something stabbed in Alfred's stomach.
He stepped forward and let an easy, masking smile onto his face. “Arthur's a student here.” He said, a hint of forcefulness underlying his words. He would not let anything upset Arthur's new life. Especially not so early in it's birth.
A moment passed and Alfred prayed that the tension would relax.
It did no such thing.
An ugly smirk formed itself on Francis' face, marring his perfection and deepening his eyes.
“Oh?” Francis said slowly, mockingly. “I wasn't awair that prostitutes could afford a university education.”
Alfred winced. Feliks let out a soft noise. And the two other Officers threw looks of surprise and disgust at Arthur, standing by the door like a cornered animal with a spotlight thrown on it.
Alfred's smile cracked, but he cemented it more firmly to his face. “Well, he's a student here, so he's already taken the first step to escaping that job. Now please, can we just...”
Francis gave another cackle of laughter.
“Arthur! A student! Mon Dieu.”
Arthur's face contorted with rage. His posture shifting from trying to avoid being spotted, to open hostility. “Shut up, Bonnefoy.” He snarled.
Francis' laughter quelled to quiet chuckles as he regarded Arthur. “I apologise.” He said, though sorry was the last thing that sentence sounded like. “I did not expect you to make in calls to students now.”
Arthur's face flushed and his eyes sparkled with anger. “I am a student here, Francis.”
“Oh, I do not doubt you.” He replied, his own eye glinting “It's just hard to imagine the twisted little whore I used to pound into the mattress picking up the books like a good little boy.”
Alfred's blood filled with icy poison. His face completely devoid of anything but horror. This man, this man he was meant to trust. He was meant to enforce the law, to look out for people who where in trouble. Yet Officer Bonnefoy was laying into one of the best people Alfre'd knew. He may not know the things Arthur had done in the past, or the horror's he had to live through, but Alfred knew that Arthur was a good person.
Francis tucked a lock of golden hair back into the band, continuing in a haughty voice. “Oh dear. Now that my petite ange is gone, who will I call when I'm feeling.” He pinned Arthur down with his cold blue eyes. “Aggressively despondent.”
Toris caught Alfred's fist before it sank into Francis' face. The man turned and looked wide-eyed at Alfred, who was panting hard and staring at Francis with an expression of disbelief.
Toris locked eyes with the man before him. “Sir.” He stated calmly “Seeing as how you have been of no assistance to us what so ever, and displayed the most disgusting prejudice I have ever witnessed, I would like you to leave now, or I will call the teachers to have you removed.”
Francis blinked at the smaller brunette man. Then the corners of his mouth twitched up again.
“Alright.” He said, and made his way to the door, the two other Officers in tow, one looking guilty, the other with an air of indifference. Arthur turned as they walked passed him, and Officer Francis Bonnefoy stopped by the open door, glancing back. “Though I hope you realise that I shall report back as following up a hoax call, and I shall call the other stations to warn them not to fall for the claims of attempted rape and stalking, as it's simply four university students fucking around.”
And with that, he was gone.
Alfred pointed at the door and turned to his friends. “He can't do that.” he said. “He can't do that!”
“Alfred!” Toris snapped “Calm down, I'm going to get Mr Felicita.” and Toris left the dorm.
“It's alright, Alfred, this will get sorted.” Feliks reassured, though he seemed to be shaking slightly in the aftermath.
Alfred looked around. “Arthur?” He called, but the smaller man had gone somewhere.
Alfred stamped on the little nagging sensation of worry before it could grow and set about checking the rooms. He opened the door to Feliks' room and called “Arthur?” Then he ducked into his own and called the man's name again. “Arthur?”
Alfred shut the door and turned to the last room in the dorm. He walked down the short hallway and stopped by the closed door. Beyond he could hear someone singing softly to themselves.
“You keep sayin' you got something for me.
Something you call love, but confess.
You've been messin' where you shouldn't have been messin'
and now someone else is getting' all your best.”
Alfred opened the door. Arthur was sitting on the edge of the bath, one of his thigh-length, steel-tipped boots leaning against his leg, the other was on his arm as he ran a cloth over it's leather.
“These boots are made for walkin'
and that's just what they'll do.
One of these days these boots are gonna
walk all over you.”
Arthur looked up, his beautiful green eyes dim. Alfred remembered that day, only a few days ago, where he had found Arthur, talked to him in that alleyway. His eyes had been dim just like they where now.
“I'm sorry, Alfred.” He said softly.
Alfred flinched at how sad that voice was. How acceptant of what life gave him. “For what?” He asked.
“For being there.” Arthur replied simply. “I shouldn't have been there.”
“That's ridiculous.” Alfred said firmly. He came forward and sat by Arthur, close enough so their arms pressed against one another. “It was them who where wrong.” Alfred couldn't find the words that summed up just how evil that experience had seemed.
Arthur sighed and looked up at the white ceiling of the bathroom, arms resting between his knees, back curved. “But he's right. I don't belong here.”
Alfred grabbed Arthur by the arms, forcing him around. “That's bullshit and you know it.” He snapped. “Everyone deserves a chance. No one can help where life puts them.”
Arthur wouldn't meet his eyes. He was gazing off into the distance, passed the sink, to something Alfred couldn't see. “But life did put me there.” He murmured.
Alfred was loosing him. He couldn't believe that all the hard work they had put in, the trials they had faced to get Arthur his chance, a chance that he had gotten, where to be undone, unravelled by the words of one haughty man.
Alfred shook Arthur's arms, attempting to keep him in the present. “But you're here now, Arthur!” He insisted, squeezing his arms as if to reinforce that fact.“You have your chance to make something of yourself, let the world know about what you have to contribute to it!”
Arthur's eyes finally slipped back to Alfred's and something tugged viscously in Alfred's gut when he saw that the glimmer, the spark that had appeared in those green depths that day in the elevator, wasn't there any more.
“And what if I was never meant to have that chance. What if, by being here, I've taken someone else's chance. There's one less place in this university because of me.”
Alfred looked lost for a moment. What could he say? Just how deeply did Arthur believe this? How far had Arthur's opinion of himself fallen? He looked down at the boots. One still on Arthur's arm. He let go of Arthur and took hold of the cold leather, yanking it off as Arthur cried out in surprise, and throwing the shoes into the corner of the room.
He grabbed Arthur again looking deep into his eyes. “Arthur.” He said, his accent drawing out the R and U. “We make our own way in this world, and if anyone is worthy of a place in it, it's you.”
Time passed and they sat there, Alfred desperately trying to save the pieces of Arthur he had put back together, and Arthur, though falling apart, was strangely calm.
Arthur looked up and met Alfred's eyes. He smiled and Alfred lost him.
“But the world doesn't want me, Alfred.” He said softly, as if Alfred was the one in need of comfort. “It never wanted me when I was born, growing up, and it will never want me when I grow older, and when I die there will be nothing.” Arthur's eyes flickered to the side, where the door was slightly ajar. He fancied he could practically see The Void, hiding in the shadows of the hallway. It had finally caught back up with him. “My family never wanted me, and everything I've ever had has gone.” He drew himself up. Bold to the last. “The world would never want to listen to someone who has a past like mine, I have moved on, Alfred. The only people who want me are the one's who need a quick fuck with an emotionless shell. Find someone else to save.”
Alfred grit his teeth and practically growled at the man before him. “Fuck that, Arthur.” He glared “That's not true. You've only been here a few days and the people who've met you like you. They love you, Arthur, they've accepted you. They want you to be here! I want you!”
Arthur gasped and Alfred realised how close they had gotten when he felt Arthur's breath ghost across his lips.
Arthur's features had blurred, so Alfred couldn't see his expression. If he had, he didn't know if he would have been brave enough to continue.
Alfred blinked slowly, once, twice, then let his eyelids slip closed as he pressed his lips to Arthur's.
Arthur gasped, the noise coming out as a surprised mewl. Alfred felt the smouldering fire in his chest explode into life, roaring through him and twisting through his limbs. He wrapped his arms around Arthur's back, one hand coming up to card through his hair.
Alfred wanted to show Arthur affection, care, and security. He wanted to show him that people cared. People wanted him for more than sex, they wanted him for love, words, laughter, tears, they wanted him for him.
Alfred wanted him. He wanted Arthur.
He had never kissed anyone this seriously before. As jokes, kisses among friends, under mistletoe. But never with someone who made him feel this alive. With someone he would fight anyone for. With someone he wanted to be happy above all others.
Alfred was determined to show Arthur what he deserved. He deepened the kiss, fitting their mouths more firmly together. He opened his mouth slightly, opening Arthur's, and moved his lips against the other man's. Arthur's shallow breaths confused themselves with Alfred's own. Alfred worked Arthur's lips under his own. Kissing them. Pillowing his mouth over them. Thrilling at how he felt. They where damp and soft and Alfred never wanted to stop kissing him.
He pulled Arthur closer and touched his tongue to Arthur's lip, then slid it gently into Arthur's mouth. He practically moaned at the sensation. Arthur's mouth was hot and wet. Arthur's arm suddenly slammed into his back, his hand gripped the back of his shirt in a tight fist.
Alfred kissed Arthur for a few more delicious moments, then broke away.
Their faces stayed close and Alfred couldn't help but kiss those pink, soft lips one more time. Or two. Or three.
Alfred drew further back and looked at Arthur, all the love, all the affection, the caring he tried to convey through his eyes to the man his arms where wrapped around.
Arthur looked at him with wide, clear eyes. He breathed quickly, one arm to his chest, the other still fisted in Alfred's shirt with a grip of steel.
“Alfred!” A call came from down the hall. “Mr Felicita and Mr Schwertschmied are here!” Alfred looked up, then looked back to Arthur. He squeezed Arthur's arms reassuringly.
“This will be sorted out, Ok?” He said.
Then he turned and bolted down the hall. The two teachers looked furious, even Mr Felicita. That was just scary.
Feliks was speaking quickly and loudly, gesticulating wildly at the teachers, while Toris tried to calm him down and repeated what his partner said with more understandable words.
Alfred chipped in his own parts of what had just happened, and by the end of it the teachers looked as if they would break something.
“This is unforgivable.” Mr Felicita growled “I'm going back to the staffroom. The other teachers with be informed.”
Mr Schwertschmied faced the small group of students, his calm air unbroken “The situation is still under control. ” He said, then turned and followed the other teacher out of the room.
They where silent for a moment then Feliks spoke softly. “What's going to happen now?”
Toris threw his arm around Feliks' shoulders “We go to sleep now.” He said authoritatively “Then we get up tomorrow, attend lectures, write essays” He gave his partner, and his friend a hard look “And look after eachother.”
“Good night, Alfred.”
“Good night, Toris.”
Feliks stared forward suddenly and wrapped his arms around Alfred's waist. Then he let go and flashed Alfred a confident smirk. Taking Toris' hand, he led the brunette man to his room.
Alfred sighed, then headed to the kitchen. He leaned his head against the wall as he waited for the machine to make him a precious cup of coffee.
With the police gone what was left to stop Ivan? And what about Francis' threat?
Alfred shook his head and walked over to the coffee machine, staring at it so intensely that it almost bubbled under his gaze. The thoughts, the questions, the worries swirled around his mind, each one echoing in his ears. He blinked and frowned away the questions.
Thinking to much about what-if's was just going to set him off again, and he didn't need that.
Arthur suddenly came to the front of his mind. He beautiful, pale face, his wide green eyes, those pink, soft, kissable lips.
He had kissed him. Alfred didn't even know if Arthur wanted to do things like that with him. For all he knew, Arthur might just think he was using him.
Alfred left the coffee machine, it's little red light still glowing, and ran back to the bathroom.
Of course it was empty, he couldn't expect Arthur to just stay where he was.
Alfred turned to head towards his bedroom when his eyes fell on the corner of the bathroom.
There was nothing there. It was empty.
Alfred frowned, then his eyes flew wide open.
He turned and headed towards his bedroom door, his steps long. Just because the boots weren't there any more didn't mean he should assume the worst. It didn't mean...
Alfred came halt. His white bedroom door before him. He set his hand on the handle and turned it, pushing the door open.
It was empty.
Alfred stepped in, just to make sure, he looked around the dark room, then blinked as his foot sant into something soft and made of cotton. He looked down. Then he bent over, picking the shirt up.
It was the shirt Arthur had been wearing.
Alfred cried out and bolted from the room. He slammed his fist against the door of Feliks' bedroom and threw the door open.
The two men blinked groggily at him, then their eyes widened as they took in his panicked expression.
Alfred waved the shirt at them. Arthur's shirt.
“Arthur's gone!”