[Fic] Seducing You With Shakespeare
Title: Seducing You With Shakespeare
Pairings/Characters: USUK, Monaco (Sophie)/Serboga (Sergio), France, Japan.
Word Count: 2,927
Rating/Warning: PG, high school AU, Shakespeare sonnets and google search analysis.
Summary: It's Valentines Day, and someone's been putting sonnets in Alfred's locker.
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red ;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
Translation: God knows you’re not perfect, but that’s why I love you.
-Your Valentine
Alfred didn’t quite know what to make of the note in his locker that morning.
Well, it was a sonnet, fourteen lines, a-b-a-b c-d-c-d e-f-e-f g-g rhyming scheme, they’d studied them in English last semester. And the language seemed Shakespearian, which made sense, because didn’t Shakespeare write a bunch of sonnets? He was starting to wish he retained more knowledge from his English classes; it’s not his fault he needed the mental space for more important things like science and math, but it would make analyzing the note easier.
From what he could gather, this was probably one of Shakespeare’s love sonnets, which made sense. It was Valentine’s Day and a Shakespearian love sonnet in a locker would be considered a romantic gesture.
What didn’t make sense was that it was in Alfred’s locker.
Alfred was a nerd. Yes he was the star quarterback and everyone knew who he was being the school hero and all that, but he was really more into things like physics, which turned off his potential suitors after the first date. He supposed it could have just been one of them, but they would usually take a very direct approach with him - several had already handed him chocolates and cards - and most of them thought Shakespeare was a new drink. Though people crushed on him, they quickly got over it once they got to know him better.
Alfred wasn’t a lit kid, but he was pretty sure that leaving a Shakespeare sonnet on someone’s locker was equivalent to a declaration of love, the real, adult kind, that involved fancy dinners and wine and love-making next to a fire with romantic music in the background, not the fake high school I-love-you-now-but-in-a-week-I’ll-love-him kind. This being his locker would imply that there was someone at this school who actually noticed him for him and liked what they saw, loved it according to the translation, enough to go out of the way to put this in his locker.
Add the data that the sonnet was clearly written for a woman and there is only one logical explanation: this was put in the wrong locker.
“Here,” he handed the note to Sophie, a cute girl who had the locker next to him and an Italian boyfriend in freshman year. It was probably for her, Italians do romantic things like Shakespeare right? And a freshman wouldn’t know his way around the upperclassmen’s halls as well and easily mix up the lockers.
Sophie took the note, quirking an eyebrow as she read it before handing it back, “That’s sweet Alfred, but Sergio and I are quite happy together. You are cute, but I’d rather not cheat on him.”
“What? No!” he shook his head and threw his hands up, “No, I’m not giving this to you, well I am, but it’s not from me. It was put in my locker by accident so I thought Sergio might have meant it for you.”
Three doors down a locker slammed, and Alfred noticed Arthur Kirkland, student class president, storm away from his locker. Before he could think too much about it, Sophie was giggling and putting the note back in his hand.
“No, Sergio wouldn’t need Shakespeare to seduce me. I think you have a secret admirer, Mr. Jones.”
As she grabbed her books and left for her first class, Alfred stared at the note in disbelief. A secret admirer? Him? He’d had a few people too shy to tell him they liked him directly, but that usually just meant they talked to him through a friend, not through Shakespeare. He read the note again, a faint blush creeping on his cheeks.
No, there must be some mistake. It was best if he ignored it and went about his day. He put the note back in his locker, grabbed his books, and went to class.
+
“Francis it didn’t work. Abort mission.”
“What makes you say that?”
“He tried to give it to Sophie. He didn’t even realize it was for him. It’s hopeless.”
“Lapin, he’s hopeless. You knew from the start he was a bit oblivious. Make sure it’s obvious the next one is for him.”
“More obvious then leaving it in his locker? No, it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t feel the same. Abort mission.”
“You don’t know that. Try again. Make it more obvious it’s for him.”
+
TO ALFRED F. JONES:
A woman’s face, with nature’s own hand painted,
Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion;
A woman’s gentle heart, but not acquainted
With shifting change, as is false women’s fashion;
An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling,
Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth;
A man in hue, all hues in his controlling,
Which steals men’s eyes and women’s souls amazeth.
And for a woman wert thou first created,
Till nature as she wrought thee fell a-doting,
And by addition me of thee defeated,
By adding one thing to my purpose nothing.
But since she pricked thee out for women’s pleasure,
Mine be thy love, and thy love’s use their treasure.
Translation: You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful enough to attract everyone, women, men, me. Despite that, I don’t love you for your body, I love you for you.
-Your Valentine
Alfred looked over the new sonnet he found in his locker before lunch.
Well, that was. Well. It was now very obvious these were indeed meant for him, but. Well.
That meant that someone at this school was in love with him, really in love with him, not just trying to get with him because he thought he was cute or they wanted to date the quarterback. They were smart too, or at least knew their Shakespeare, which was nice. He’d dated some smart people in the past, guys and girls, like the poem said, but most of them were not, and like his Valentine said, all of them, guy, girl, smart, and not, were pretty shallow.
As he was rereading the note for the hundredth time that lunch period, his best friend Kiku found him in their usual spot in the hallway and sat next to him, silently reading it over his shoulder, embarrassment growing the more he read.
“Ah, sorry, I should not have…” Kiku blushed and looked away.
“Oh, hey dude,” Alfred smiled and tried to act casual as he put the note in his back pocket, “Yeah, someone’s been giving me sonnets. Weird huh?”
He opened his boxed lunch and began eating. “Do you know who he is?”
“Know who who is?”
“The one sending you the sonnets. Do you know who he is?”
“No, not really, hey,” Alfred raised an eyebrow and pulled out a burger from his bag, “How do you know it’s a guy?”
“W-well, that sonnet is a bit controversial. Some scholars believe that it is Shakespeare’s way of saying he was actually gay,” Kiku blushed and busied himself with his food, “so logically there would be a higher probability of your secret Valentine being a male if he’s sending you that sonnet in particular.”
“Oh, I see,” Alfred took a sip from his soda, “So we’re looking for a boy who likes Shakespeare.”
“You are looking for,” he corrected as he finished his lunch, “If this were a dating sim, you would need to find your secret admirer on your own or it would not count.”
“But Kiku, this isn’t a game, this is real life!” he pouted, putting on his best puppy dog expression, “You already clued me in on his gender. Want to look at the first sonnet and see what you can get from that?”
“No no,” Kiku gathered his trash and gave Alfred a quick bow, “I have other things to do, so I will be on my way. Good luck to you Alfred-san.”
Before Alfred could protest Kiku was gone. He sighed and stood, gathering up his trash as well, and went over to the nearest garbage can to throw it out, accidentally bumping into someone as he did so.
“Oh, sorry, didn’t see you there,” he put on his best smile and looked down, “Oh, hey Arthur!”
Arthur have him a wide-eyed look, face slightly flushed, before quickly tossing his trash out and practically running in the other direction, not actually running because that was against school rules and Arthur never broke even the smallest of rules. The point was he was moving very fast in the opposite direction, and that made Alfred feel guilty. He didn’t mean to bump into him.
As Alfred went back to his locker to get his things for his afternoon classes, he wondered if Arthur knew Shakespeare.
+
“Francis, problem.”
“What? Can’t you see I’m busy?”
“She can wait. I need to talk to you now.”
“Very well, what is it?”
“It’s, he, he spoke to me…”
“That’s good. That’s what you want to happen isn’t it? What did he say?”
“He said ‘Hey Arthur.’”
“And what did you say back?”
“I, well…”
“You fled, didn’t you?”
“It was very nerve wracking! His eyes are far too blue and it’s hard to concentrate when they’re just focused on you and he actually knew my name and…oh stop that laughing.”
“Sorry, I just keep forgetting this is your first love. It’s magnifique non?”
“Stop that at once. It’s not love it is merely an infatuation.”
“Please, I know love, and you are currently in it. And of course he knows your name. You were lab partners for most of last year.”
“But he barely talked to me during that time. I didn’t think he actually noticed me or would remember.”
“Lapin, it is impossible to forget your eyebrows, let alone your abrasive personality.”
“You are supposed to be helping me woo him!”
“Yes, and considering he is now talking to you and remembering your name, I think that part is working.”
“I, yes, well…shut up.”
“Are you ready for the next part?”
“…Very well.”
+
TO ALFRED:
When in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least.
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
Translation: When I get sad, or depressed, or lonely, I think of you, happy and hopeful and bright, and it makes my day better. That’s why I love you.
-Your Valentine
P.S - Meet me on the roof.
It was after school, and with all the hustle and bustle of everyone getting ready to go home around him, Alfred zoned in on the new sonnet, the translation, and most importantly the postscript.
He made his Valentine happy. That was good, he always wanted to be the hero, and if he was able to make whoever it was happy by his mere existence, that’s a good thing. And he wanted to meet him on the roof, did he mean right now?
Alfred took a quick look around the hall. By now most of the students had filtered out; only a few stragglers remained. Any teachers still here would be shut in their rooms with papers, and the roof entrance was only a few halls away.
Before he thought it through properly, Alfred shut his locker, shoved the newest note into his pocket, and ran to the roof.
When he arrived, he looked around and found no one. Unperturbed, Alfred walked around and peeked into every corner to make sure his Valentine wasn’t there, founding nothing. He sighed and started to make his way back to the roof entrance, disappointment weighing him down and dragging his feet, when he heard the door slam and standing there was none other than Arthur Kirkland.
“Arthur?” Alfred blinked, surprised, “Was it you? Were you sending me the sonnets?”
Arthur was looking at the cement on the roof, bangs covering his eyes, refusing to look up. As Alfred started to approach him, his head shot up. Looking right into Alfred’s eyes, he took a deep breath and began:
“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate.”
Alfred could only remain frozen to the spot, eyes never leaving Arthur as he stepped closer, “Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, and summer’s lease hath all too short a date.”
Arthur was right in front of him now, but he broke the eye contact and began circling him, “Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, and often is his golden complexion dimm’d.
“And every fair from fair sometime declines, by chance or nature’s changing course untrimme’d,” Arthur was back in front of him again. This time he stopped and placed a hand on his chest. Alfred could only stare, mesmerized.
“But thy eternal summer shall not fade, nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,” his hand moved upward until he was cupping Alfred’s face, eyes on his, thumbs gently caressing his cheeks.
“Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade, when in eternal lines to time thou grow’st,” Arthur leaned forward until their faces were only centimeters apart and stopped. Alfred held his breath and waited.
“So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, so long as lives this, and this gives life to thee.”
They waited, motionless in time, until Alfred finally broke the silence, “So, you were the one leaving the sonnets in my locker all day?”
Arthur laughed and nodded. Alfred smiled his biggest one yet and closed the small distance between them.
The kiss was short and sweet, and when they broke Arthur’s hand had moved to his shoulder, clutching it tightly, “Thank you. For the poems.” Arthur, beat red and refusing eye contact, merely nodded again. Alfred wrapped an arm around his waist and cupped his cheek, forcing his head up and his eyes on his, “Can I ask why?”
Arthur tried to break out of his hold, but gave up after a poor excuse for a struggle and leaned his head on Alfred’s shoulder, “You know why. I said it quite clearly in the notes.”
“Yeah, you love me. Or that’s what you said in the notes,” Arthur nodded, cheeks red and face turned away. Alfred dropped his hand on his shoulder and asked, “But, why the notes? Why the sonnets?”
“Because I’m a bit, backward with my own words,” he sighed and leaned back to look at Alfred, “I did try putting what I felt for you in my own words, but they just came out wrong. Besides the Bard had already said it much better.”
“Oh, that makes sense,” he shrugged, “But then, why the secrecy?”
“I’m a tad shy,” he blushed and looked away again, “and, well, you’re you. If I just walked up and told you I loved you, you probably wouldn’t have believed me, and I would have been mocked for the rest of my high school career.”
Alfred couldn’t deny that, considering how many people actually have just walked up and confessed their feelings and how long those relationships lasted.
“So, um,” Arthur shuffled in his spot, “Yes. That’s how I feel about you. I’ll just, be going then…”
He managed to get out of Alfred’s hold only to be stopped by a grab to the wrist, “Wait, aren’t you going to give me the chance to say how I feel about you?”
“That’s quite alright,” he tugged on his wrist to no avail, “you don’t have to-”
“I like you,” Arthur froze and glanced back at Alfred over his shoulder, “I might actually love you, if you meant what you said you meant in the notes.”
“Don’t be foolish,” he tugged his wrist again, “You don’t even know me.”
“Sure I do. We were lab partners for most of last year,” Alfred shifted their hands so he was holding Arthur’s instead, “And I’d like to get to know you better, if that’s alright.”
Arthur stared at their hands for a moment before finding his face again, “I, yes. That’s perfectly alright with me.”
Alfred smiled, big and wide, and leaned in for another kiss. Arthur couldn’t help his own smile as he eagerly kissed him back.
Alfred didn’t know much about Shakespeare, but he had to hand it to the guy, he knew a thing or two about love.
Pairings/Characters: USUK, Monaco (Sophie)/Serboga (Sergio), France, Japan.
Word Count: 2,927
Rating/Warning: PG, high school AU, Shakespeare sonnets and google search analysis.
Summary: It's Valentines Day, and someone's been putting sonnets in Alfred's locker.
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red ;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
Translation: God knows you’re not perfect, but that’s why I love you.
-Your Valentine
Alfred didn’t quite know what to make of the note in his locker that morning.
Well, it was a sonnet, fourteen lines, a-b-a-b c-d-c-d e-f-e-f g-g rhyming scheme, they’d studied them in English last semester. And the language seemed Shakespearian, which made sense, because didn’t Shakespeare write a bunch of sonnets? He was starting to wish he retained more knowledge from his English classes; it’s not his fault he needed the mental space for more important things like science and math, but it would make analyzing the note easier.
From what he could gather, this was probably one of Shakespeare’s love sonnets, which made sense. It was Valentine’s Day and a Shakespearian love sonnet in a locker would be considered a romantic gesture.
What didn’t make sense was that it was in Alfred’s locker.
Alfred was a nerd. Yes he was the star quarterback and everyone knew who he was being the school hero and all that, but he was really more into things like physics, which turned off his potential suitors after the first date. He supposed it could have just been one of them, but they would usually take a very direct approach with him - several had already handed him chocolates and cards - and most of them thought Shakespeare was a new drink. Though people crushed on him, they quickly got over it once they got to know him better.
Alfred wasn’t a lit kid, but he was pretty sure that leaving a Shakespeare sonnet on someone’s locker was equivalent to a declaration of love, the real, adult kind, that involved fancy dinners and wine and love-making next to a fire with romantic music in the background, not the fake high school I-love-you-now-but-in-a-week-I’ll-love-him kind. This being his locker would imply that there was someone at this school who actually noticed him for him and liked what they saw, loved it according to the translation, enough to go out of the way to put this in his locker.
Add the data that the sonnet was clearly written for a woman and there is only one logical explanation: this was put in the wrong locker.
“Here,” he handed the note to Sophie, a cute girl who had the locker next to him and an Italian boyfriend in freshman year. It was probably for her, Italians do romantic things like Shakespeare right? And a freshman wouldn’t know his way around the upperclassmen’s halls as well and easily mix up the lockers.
Sophie took the note, quirking an eyebrow as she read it before handing it back, “That’s sweet Alfred, but Sergio and I are quite happy together. You are cute, but I’d rather not cheat on him.”
“What? No!” he shook his head and threw his hands up, “No, I’m not giving this to you, well I am, but it’s not from me. It was put in my locker by accident so I thought Sergio might have meant it for you.”
Three doors down a locker slammed, and Alfred noticed Arthur Kirkland, student class president, storm away from his locker. Before he could think too much about it, Sophie was giggling and putting the note back in his hand.
“No, Sergio wouldn’t need Shakespeare to seduce me. I think you have a secret admirer, Mr. Jones.”
As she grabbed her books and left for her first class, Alfred stared at the note in disbelief. A secret admirer? Him? He’d had a few people too shy to tell him they liked him directly, but that usually just meant they talked to him through a friend, not through Shakespeare. He read the note again, a faint blush creeping on his cheeks.
No, there must be some mistake. It was best if he ignored it and went about his day. He put the note back in his locker, grabbed his books, and went to class.
+
“Francis it didn’t work. Abort mission.”
“What makes you say that?”
“He tried to give it to Sophie. He didn’t even realize it was for him. It’s hopeless.”
“Lapin, he’s hopeless. You knew from the start he was a bit oblivious. Make sure it’s obvious the next one is for him.”
“More obvious then leaving it in his locker? No, it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t feel the same. Abort mission.”
“You don’t know that. Try again. Make it more obvious it’s for him.”
+
TO ALFRED F. JONES:
A woman’s face, with nature’s own hand painted,
Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion;
A woman’s gentle heart, but not acquainted
With shifting change, as is false women’s fashion;
An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling,
Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth;
A man in hue, all hues in his controlling,
Which steals men’s eyes and women’s souls amazeth.
And for a woman wert thou first created,
Till nature as she wrought thee fell a-doting,
And by addition me of thee defeated,
By adding one thing to my purpose nothing.
But since she pricked thee out for women’s pleasure,
Mine be thy love, and thy love’s use their treasure.
Translation: You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful enough to attract everyone, women, men, me. Despite that, I don’t love you for your body, I love you for you.
-Your Valentine
Alfred looked over the new sonnet he found in his locker before lunch.
Well, that was. Well. It was now very obvious these were indeed meant for him, but. Well.
That meant that someone at this school was in love with him, really in love with him, not just trying to get with him because he thought he was cute or they wanted to date the quarterback. They were smart too, or at least knew their Shakespeare, which was nice. He’d dated some smart people in the past, guys and girls, like the poem said, but most of them were not, and like his Valentine said, all of them, guy, girl, smart, and not, were pretty shallow.
As he was rereading the note for the hundredth time that lunch period, his best friend Kiku found him in their usual spot in the hallway and sat next to him, silently reading it over his shoulder, embarrassment growing the more he read.
“Ah, sorry, I should not have…” Kiku blushed and looked away.
“Oh, hey dude,” Alfred smiled and tried to act casual as he put the note in his back pocket, “Yeah, someone’s been giving me sonnets. Weird huh?”
He opened his boxed lunch and began eating. “Do you know who he is?”
“Know who who is?”
“The one sending you the sonnets. Do you know who he is?”
“No, not really, hey,” Alfred raised an eyebrow and pulled out a burger from his bag, “How do you know it’s a guy?”
“W-well, that sonnet is a bit controversial. Some scholars believe that it is Shakespeare’s way of saying he was actually gay,” Kiku blushed and busied himself with his food, “so logically there would be a higher probability of your secret Valentine being a male if he’s sending you that sonnet in particular.”
“Oh, I see,” Alfred took a sip from his soda, “So we’re looking for a boy who likes Shakespeare.”
“You are looking for,” he corrected as he finished his lunch, “If this were a dating sim, you would need to find your secret admirer on your own or it would not count.”
“But Kiku, this isn’t a game, this is real life!” he pouted, putting on his best puppy dog expression, “You already clued me in on his gender. Want to look at the first sonnet and see what you can get from that?”
“No no,” Kiku gathered his trash and gave Alfred a quick bow, “I have other things to do, so I will be on my way. Good luck to you Alfred-san.”
Before Alfred could protest Kiku was gone. He sighed and stood, gathering up his trash as well, and went over to the nearest garbage can to throw it out, accidentally bumping into someone as he did so.
“Oh, sorry, didn’t see you there,” he put on his best smile and looked down, “Oh, hey Arthur!”
Arthur have him a wide-eyed look, face slightly flushed, before quickly tossing his trash out and practically running in the other direction, not actually running because that was against school rules and Arthur never broke even the smallest of rules. The point was he was moving very fast in the opposite direction, and that made Alfred feel guilty. He didn’t mean to bump into him.
As Alfred went back to his locker to get his things for his afternoon classes, he wondered if Arthur knew Shakespeare.
+
“Francis, problem.”
“What? Can’t you see I’m busy?”
“She can wait. I need to talk to you now.”
“Very well, what is it?”
“It’s, he, he spoke to me…”
“That’s good. That’s what you want to happen isn’t it? What did he say?”
“He said ‘Hey Arthur.’”
“And what did you say back?”
“I, well…”
“You fled, didn’t you?”
“It was very nerve wracking! His eyes are far too blue and it’s hard to concentrate when they’re just focused on you and he actually knew my name and…oh stop that laughing.”
“Sorry, I just keep forgetting this is your first love. It’s magnifique non?”
“Stop that at once. It’s not love it is merely an infatuation.”
“Please, I know love, and you are currently in it. And of course he knows your name. You were lab partners for most of last year.”
“But he barely talked to me during that time. I didn’t think he actually noticed me or would remember.”
“Lapin, it is impossible to forget your eyebrows, let alone your abrasive personality.”
“You are supposed to be helping me woo him!”
“Yes, and considering he is now talking to you and remembering your name, I think that part is working.”
“I, yes, well…shut up.”
“Are you ready for the next part?”
“…Very well.”
+
TO ALFRED:
When in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least.
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
Translation: When I get sad, or depressed, or lonely, I think of you, happy and hopeful and bright, and it makes my day better. That’s why I love you.
-Your Valentine
P.S - Meet me on the roof.
It was after school, and with all the hustle and bustle of everyone getting ready to go home around him, Alfred zoned in on the new sonnet, the translation, and most importantly the postscript.
He made his Valentine happy. That was good, he always wanted to be the hero, and if he was able to make whoever it was happy by his mere existence, that’s a good thing. And he wanted to meet him on the roof, did he mean right now?
Alfred took a quick look around the hall. By now most of the students had filtered out; only a few stragglers remained. Any teachers still here would be shut in their rooms with papers, and the roof entrance was only a few halls away.
Before he thought it through properly, Alfred shut his locker, shoved the newest note into his pocket, and ran to the roof.
When he arrived, he looked around and found no one. Unperturbed, Alfred walked around and peeked into every corner to make sure his Valentine wasn’t there, founding nothing. He sighed and started to make his way back to the roof entrance, disappointment weighing him down and dragging his feet, when he heard the door slam and standing there was none other than Arthur Kirkland.
“Arthur?” Alfred blinked, surprised, “Was it you? Were you sending me the sonnets?”
Arthur was looking at the cement on the roof, bangs covering his eyes, refusing to look up. As Alfred started to approach him, his head shot up. Looking right into Alfred’s eyes, he took a deep breath and began:
“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate.”
Alfred could only remain frozen to the spot, eyes never leaving Arthur as he stepped closer, “Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, and summer’s lease hath all too short a date.”
Arthur was right in front of him now, but he broke the eye contact and began circling him, “Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, and often is his golden complexion dimm’d.
“And every fair from fair sometime declines, by chance or nature’s changing course untrimme’d,” Arthur was back in front of him again. This time he stopped and placed a hand on his chest. Alfred could only stare, mesmerized.
“But thy eternal summer shall not fade, nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,” his hand moved upward until he was cupping Alfred’s face, eyes on his, thumbs gently caressing his cheeks.
“Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade, when in eternal lines to time thou grow’st,” Arthur leaned forward until their faces were only centimeters apart and stopped. Alfred held his breath and waited.
“So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, so long as lives this, and this gives life to thee.”
They waited, motionless in time, until Alfred finally broke the silence, “So, you were the one leaving the sonnets in my locker all day?”
Arthur laughed and nodded. Alfred smiled his biggest one yet and closed the small distance between them.
The kiss was short and sweet, and when they broke Arthur’s hand had moved to his shoulder, clutching it tightly, “Thank you. For the poems.” Arthur, beat red and refusing eye contact, merely nodded again. Alfred wrapped an arm around his waist and cupped his cheek, forcing his head up and his eyes on his, “Can I ask why?”
Arthur tried to break out of his hold, but gave up after a poor excuse for a struggle and leaned his head on Alfred’s shoulder, “You know why. I said it quite clearly in the notes.”
“Yeah, you love me. Or that’s what you said in the notes,” Arthur nodded, cheeks red and face turned away. Alfred dropped his hand on his shoulder and asked, “But, why the notes? Why the sonnets?”
“Because I’m a bit, backward with my own words,” he sighed and leaned back to look at Alfred, “I did try putting what I felt for you in my own words, but they just came out wrong. Besides the Bard had already said it much better.”
“Oh, that makes sense,” he shrugged, “But then, why the secrecy?”
“I’m a tad shy,” he blushed and looked away again, “and, well, you’re you. If I just walked up and told you I loved you, you probably wouldn’t have believed me, and I would have been mocked for the rest of my high school career.”
Alfred couldn’t deny that, considering how many people actually have just walked up and confessed their feelings and how long those relationships lasted.
“So, um,” Arthur shuffled in his spot, “Yes. That’s how I feel about you. I’ll just, be going then…”
He managed to get out of Alfred’s hold only to be stopped by a grab to the wrist, “Wait, aren’t you going to give me the chance to say how I feel about you?”
“That’s quite alright,” he tugged on his wrist to no avail, “you don’t have to-”
“I like you,” Arthur froze and glanced back at Alfred over his shoulder, “I might actually love you, if you meant what you said you meant in the notes.”
“Don’t be foolish,” he tugged his wrist again, “You don’t even know me.”
“Sure I do. We were lab partners for most of last year,” Alfred shifted their hands so he was holding Arthur’s instead, “And I’d like to get to know you better, if that’s alright.”
Arthur stared at their hands for a moment before finding his face again, “I, yes. That’s perfectly alright with me.”
Alfred smiled, big and wide, and leaned in for another kiss. Arthur couldn’t help his own smile as he eagerly kissed him back.
Alfred didn’t know much about Shakespeare, but he had to hand it to the guy, he knew a thing or two about love.