Don't ruin the moment (1/4)
anonymous
April 12 2009, 21:43:20 UTC
Arthur was sure the American had to be joking. The room was pink, for God’s sake, and only lighted up with a few candles placed nonchalantly here and there. The chair was soft, but formed like a giant pair of lips, and he felt a gay stripper could show up at any time.
As Alfred had invited him over, he’d felt uneasy. The kid hardly ever took the time to come visit him anymore, and when he did it was only to crash at his place and drink, avoiding the laws of the US. But it was an even more seldom event that he invited him to America to visit his house. Therefore it was with great anxiousness that he’d accepted.
“Great!” Alfred had yelled through the phone, downright excited, “bring a condom! Thankyouverymuch-“ Click.
Arthur made a face as he stuck his hand into the pocket. His fingers lightly touched the smaller, squared package he’d hidden down there. To be honest he had decided not to bring one, but with blushing cheeks he’d went for a package at a service station a few minutes before reaching Alfred’s home. He blamed his hormones - bloody hell, he was only 23, he was excused!
Now he felt he should just rip the package into pieces. What the hell was with that idiot anyway? He was a proud Englishman, not some kind of perverted porn star. Condom or not; he wasn’t going to even touch the American in this flamboyant room. As he shot a glare towards the walls, he noticed the pictures of almost naked men. Mostly cowboys.
…And between them a picture of Obama.
“Hell, has he got no shame at all?” Arthur gasped.
“Let me be your hero~”
It had been a whisper. As a quiet music started playing, Arthur sat up straight and tried to figure out from where it came. The sound of a door opening almost drowned in the emotional voice that filled the room up and almost made him melt; the words were spoken lightly, but with a trembling undertone that went straight to the heart:
“Would you dance if I asked you to dance? Would you run and never look back? Would you cry if you saw me crying? Would you save my soul tonight?”
Arthur shook his head. He couldn’t quite place the voice - he knew no one who could actually sing. Sure, Ludwig had showed off his skills as some of their parties, but when you don’t speak German, it just sounds like a back of words being puked up at once. Then there was Kiku - but he wasn’t that good at English. And what should he be doing at the American’s home anyway?
Then it hit him. As a shadow made it’s way from the door, passing the candles on their dark side, coming nearer, it hit him hard.
“Bloody hell,” he whispered, as Alfred’s face was lit up in front of him, “you’re the one singing?”
As Alfred had invited him over, he’d felt uneasy. The kid hardly ever took the time to come visit him anymore, and when he did it was only to crash at his place and drink, avoiding the laws of the US. But it was an even more seldom event that he invited him to America to visit his house. Therefore it was with great anxiousness that he’d accepted.
“Great!” Alfred had yelled through the phone, downright excited, “bring a condom! Thankyouverymuch-“ Click.
Arthur made a face as he stuck his hand into the pocket. His fingers lightly touched the smaller, squared package he’d hidden down there. To be honest he had decided not to bring one, but with blushing cheeks he’d went for a package at a service station a few minutes before reaching Alfred’s home. He blamed his hormones - bloody hell, he was only 23, he was excused!
Now he felt he should just rip the package into pieces. What the hell was with that idiot anyway? He was a proud Englishman, not some kind of perverted porn star. Condom or not; he wasn’t going to even touch the American in this flamboyant room. As he shot a glare towards the walls, he noticed the pictures of almost naked men. Mostly cowboys.
…And between them a picture of Obama.
“Hell, has he got no shame at all?” Arthur gasped.
“Let me be your hero~”
It had been a whisper. As a quiet music started playing, Arthur sat up straight and tried to figure out from where it came. The sound of a door opening almost drowned in the emotional voice that filled the room up and almost made him melt; the words were spoken lightly, but with a trembling undertone that went straight to the heart:
“Would you dance if I asked you to dance?
Would you run and never look back?
Would you cry if you saw me crying?
Would you save my soul tonight?”
Arthur shook his head. He couldn’t quite place the voice - he knew no one who could actually sing. Sure, Ludwig had showed off his skills as some of their parties, but when you don’t speak German, it just sounds like a back of words being puked up at once. Then there was Kiku - but he wasn’t that good at English. And what should he be doing at the American’s home anyway?
Then it hit him. As a shadow made it’s way from the door, passing the candles on their dark side, coming nearer, it hit him hard.
“Bloody hell,” he whispered, as Alfred’s face was lit up in front of him, “you’re the one singing?”
Reply
Leave a comment