Episode 2 - Strangers

[King of Spades]

One week ago Alfred had to drag Arthur to his home, the Englishman had been too drunk to go home all alone by himself. It was quite a task to find Arthur's hotel as he was obviously too wasted to actually be helpful and just in front of the hotel room he decided to pass out.

Now a whole busy week had passed and genius was created during that time. Holding up two sheets of paper against the morning sun, Alfred was grinning in a truly accomplished way. This was art. Revolutionary melody with an unusual ensemble of brass, piano and bass. And the lyrics; godly.

"This is a masterpiece!" Alfred jumped and knocked the wooden chair over but he couldn't care less. Grabbing his coat, music sheet secured in his bag, he rushed out of his small flat.

He needed to show it to someone, anyone. And unfortunately, Arthur was the only one he knew. But of course his main reason was to brag about his success. It was just a little game to rub it in in order to make the grumpy Englishman fume in anger and envy.

"Artie!" Alfred banged against the door of Arthur's hotel room. "Open up, old man! I've got somethin' to show! Come oooon!" Why did the other take so long to open the freaking door? Alfred was far too excited to be kept waiting, especially after one troublesome walk through one snowy Paris.

"Dude, don't tell me you're busy hiding a prostitute in there!"

[Preffy~]

One week ago was the last time Arthur had set foot in the Moulin Rouge. He didn’t have many memories from that night, that was just how much he had drunk. But if his headache the next day was anything to go by, then he had probably made a fool of himself there, so no he wouldn’t go back just yet.

Of course there was still the subject of HOW he got home, maybe he miraculously got himself back to his room? He highly doubted it. But it wasn’t worth thinking about now, not when he was trying to gather new ideas for a new book.

But clearly that was also going to highly impossible.

‘How the bloody hell did he get this address?‘ Arthur thought, frowning at the door. “Don’t tell me, he’s stalking me for some reason now!” Arthur sighed, still looking at the door and wondering if he ignored him then Alfred would eventually leave.

The prostitute comment, however, made him bolt quickly from his chair and open the door. “Do you mind? I don’t want people getting the wrong idea about me here!” Arthur hissed, “How did you get my address anyway?”

His attentions then fell to the papers in Alfred’s hand, “What are those?” He asked. The supposed revolutionary music that he promised Mistinguett, perhaps? He was still interested in seeing it.

[King of Spades]

Finally! The door creaked open and revealed a very dishevelled Arthur wearing a grumpy look as if he was born with that kind of expression. Not to mention those eyebrows were apparently made by god for the sole purpose to create evil on earth. Alfred greeted the Englishman distractedly and peered inside the hotel room, secretly looking for any signs of a naked prostitute. No luck, though. Oh well, he probably threw the woman out of the window. Him being the devil and all.

But Alfred wasn't here to muse about Arthur's thrown-away-whore. "Finally, buddy! Ya really took your sweet time!" He squeezed himself past Arthur and squeezed himself in. Looking at the room he realised...it was one luxurious hotel room, last time he didn't really pay attention to the details of the hotel. "I had to drag you home after you got yourself wasted last week. Artie, are you some rich kiddie?"

"Anyway! Here is my masterpiece! Go on! Take a look! I could play it on the piano," said Alfred while pointing at the baby grand at the far left corner of Arthur's room. He handed Arthur one copy to look at the lyrics.

[Preffy~]

As Alfred barged his way into the room, Arthur huffed out a sarcastic, “ Please do come in, make yourself at home.” He ignored the rich kid comment and shut the door.

“It-It was you who brought me back?” Arthur’s face flushed red with embarrassment, of all people to see him in such a state it would be his new rival. Well, for anyone to see him in such a state was horrifying. “Well, thank you for bringing me back and sorry for any problem I might have caused!”

It was that moment that Alfred declared his ‘masterpiece’ ready and handed him a copy of the lyrics. Arthur stared at the piece of paper with interest before nodding and walking over to the piano. “Alright then, you play the music and I’ll read the lyrics!”

And so Alfred did.

The music itself was actually very pleasant to listen to, so much so, that his attention from the lyrics sheet drifted away for a while as he watched and listened as Alfred played. He could only wonder what lyrics accompanied this and so Arthur felt envious as he realised that Mistinguett would love this…. Or so he thought. He looked down to the lyrics sheet, a rather blissful smile on his face, a blissful smile that gradually disappeared as he slowly read through the sheet.

[King of Spades]

Alfred hovered his hands above the keys, took deep breath and played. It started with a romantic opening and gained on tempo until suddenly the melody was rich and room-filling. Alfred sang along as well knowing every single word by heart.

The piano faded away and he stopped playing once he was done with the song. Instantly, he turned on his seat and looked up at Arthur who had been following the lyrics. The American's eyes looked excited and eager to listen to Arthur's praise. He was definitely the winner. "So? What do you think? Isn't it brilliant?"

He caught on Arthur's frown; the other hadn't even bothered to look at him just yet, eyes still glued to the words written on paper. Alfred rose his eyebrows. Was Arthur that much enthralled by his music that he'd lost his ability to speak?

"My favourite line is 'your eyes so pretty and round like candy'!"

[Preffy~]

Arthur took a moment, before he dared bothering looking back at Alfred. His ‘favourite line’ had offended Arthur in so many ways, which was why he had to take a moment and control the twitch he was sure he had. While Alfred could create beautiful music it seemed, it was clear the man was in no way a writer. The lyrics were…

“Your lyrics, I’m afraid, are way too cheesy, Alfred.” He said, bluntly, “The music itself is very wonderful to listen to. But it’s clear you’re not a writer.”

He took a moment to read over the lyrics again, before he found the offending line. “Your favourite line for instance, makes no sense at all. I think you meant to say ’Your eyes ARE so pretty..’ and so on. But really, you want to sing of romance to this woman and yet you sound quite childish.”

He felt quite disappointed.

“If I could any advice at all,” He offered, handing the music sheet back to Alfred, “I would say either rewrite the entirety of the lyrics or just not have any at all!”

[King of Spades]

Arthur's harsh critique hit him hard. He hadn't thought the Englishman would say that. Alfred gaped at Arthur and looked down at his lyrics afterwards. "This...this is...I...what do you mean it's too cheesy?"

Small tear drops glistened at the corners of his eyes against his will. How embarrassing! He was a big boy and should be able to handle criticism but his heart wasn't used to it. Hastily, Alfred rubbed the tears with his sleeve and sniffed loudly.

"It's no good then?"

[Preffy~]

Just one look at Alfred’s face and the guilt came washing over him like a giant tidal wave.

So that was why, he now found himself awkwardly patting Alfred on the shoulder and managed a rather apologetic smile. “It’s not bad at all. Like I said, the music is wonderful to listen to. The lyrics… maybe are endearing a little. But I still think you need to rearrange the words a little, as I mentioned, they make little sense!”

He reread that line and frowned. In a way, it seemed like Alfred’s lyrics were rather childishly cute. He couldn’t believe he used that word but that was how it seemed. But cute or not, he still could not forgive that line.

An idea now presented itself, he doubted Alfred would agree but it was worth a try. “If you would like any help,” He said rather hesitantly, blushing a little. “I can understand if you don’t, but If you would like any assistance. I would gladly offer to help!”

[King of Spades]

That was the last thing he would have expected. Arthur wanted to help him? "But...but why? Would you ...really do that? Even though we're kind of, you know, rivals?" He really didn't understand why Arthur was so generous at the moment right after he'd had successfully made him feel miserable.

Part of Alfred didn't want to hurt his own pride and insisted on carrying on with the song, without any help from other people. But then again, it wasn't the first time someone complained about his skills in poetry and lyric. Tentatively, he turned on his piano seat and faced Arthur. He chewed on his lips, still thinking about the offer.

"Well, only if I can pay you back somehow."

The moment was awkward, so he let his eyes wander over the hotel room once more. It was a neat and luxurious place. "Boy, ya really are rich, aren't ya?"

[Preffy~]

Again he ignored the rich comment and chose to watch as Alfred inspected the room. A little surprised that he accepted his help in the first place. He didn’t expect it.

“I’ll help you. I’ll help you because beautiful music deserves beautiful lyrics!” They were both clearly feeling awkward at that moment. Funny how rivals would end up working together. But Arthur wasn’t even sure why he offered to help, the music just seemed to draw him in at that moment. “You don’t have to worry about any kind of payment. I offered to help after all!”

Adding the fact that, as Alfred said, he was rich anyway. No, it was all for the excitement of helping to create a masterpiece.

A few more moments of silence. Of Alfred looking around the room still.

“We can arrange days and times to meet up whenever you wish. I’m sure you have things to do, as have I!” He blurted out suddenly, “Whatever suits us both. And arrange wherever we’re going to do it….I mean meet up of course!”

He quickly covered up that mistake, it sounded a little too… Argh. He ran his hand through his hair in embarrassment.

“So? What do you think?”

[King of Spades]

Alfred was an oblivious type of guy by nature— but his head chose to be perceptive at Arthur's unfortunate choice of words. The American blushed. Well, wasn't that awkward. Especially because they were clearly men (it's bad enough that he's been doubting his sexuality since he was 15). To overcome the uncomfortable moment he cleared his throat and beamed his trademark smile.

"Sure! There is this nice Café at the end of the Boulevard. It's a famous place and many artists and authors like to meet up there to discuss. So...we...we could drink coffee and eat some sweet tea — while working on the lyrics of course. Not just like for fun." Oh great, the heroic songwriter was stumbling over his own words.

Alfred walked away from the piano and let his gaze wander over Arthur's book collection. Was Arthur renting this suite for a long term? He could see lots of famous names that even he recognised, classical and contemporary authors. "So...what's your occupation? You seem to enjoy reading." Now wonder he was such a jerk with my lyrics.

[Preffy~]

The moment had suddenly turned very awkward with his slip of words and Arthur continued to curse quietly to himself before focusing on the conversation instead. “That's because I, myself, am a writer!” He followed Alfred's line of vision to the books and smiled a little, “but I do love reading more than anything. I only meant to come here for a short while , but I couldn't leave without my collection!”

He then focused his attention back on Alfred, to see the other still blushing. He was pretty sure his own cheeks were still red. “But your idea sounds good enough. I have visited that Café. It's a lovely little place!” He nodded in agreement.

Arthur then looked to the desk, where his work sat unfinished. He really should finish it, before he started on anything new. “I'll tell you what. I need a few more days to finish my work before I start helping with this. So if it's alright with you, I'll meet you in a few days time at the café? I can give you my full attention then!”

[King of Spades]

"Giving me your full attention?" Alfred raised his brow, fell into silence and cleared his throat. He brushed his coat and straightened himself. "Alright. That's fine...more than fine."

Once again his eyes roamed the room and he wondered what kind of author Arthur was. Love stories? Adventures? Political? Philosophical? He was quite interested to know. But he felt like he shouldn't intrude for too long. Not that he minded etiquette but it seemed like a big deal to Arthur, so as to stay on his good side he decided to leave the writer to his work. "Well then, happy writing. I'll just..." He dove his hands into his pockets and pulled out a piece of paper. Spotting a pen, he wrote his address down. "This is where you can find me. Feel free to come at any time."

"So yeah..." Another awkward cough, "I'll leave now."

He opened the door before Arthur could show him out himself and beamed his trademark smile. "I'm looking forward to our little rendezvous."

But of course he ended up wanting to kill himself for saying that once he was back in his apartment.

[Preffy~]

Arthur didn't get the chance to say goodbye, or even show his guest to the door. Instead, he was left standing alone in his own apartment, looking wide-eyed at the door and a piece of paper clutched in his hand. The address Alfred had given him.

‘Our little rendezvous?’ It sounded like something out of a romance novel. The thought caused a slight blush to his cheeks. It quickly disappeared though, as Arthur quickly shook his head and said to himself that surely it was just Alfred's payback for his own slip of words earlier. The meeting was only to help the man with his song lyrics after all.

Arthur laughed quietly to himself and returned to his desk to carry on with the work he started earlier.. All the while thinking that ‘Our Little Rendezvous' would indeed be a good title for some romance novel.

A few hours later, it had appeared as though he had hit some mental block, as it seemed he couldn't write anymore.. With a stretch out of his chair, Arthur decided that maybe a walk would be a good thing. Maybe visit the café Alfred had suggested they meet at. He hadn't actually been in there after all.

That was indeed what happened and now Arthur found himself at the little café. It was a lovely little place and exactly as Alfred said it was, he was looking around at many groups of people in the middle of discussions. Some people sat alone writing, Arthur saw one girl sitting on her own, completely absorbed in her writing. He wished he had that inspiration right now.

But instead, he found himself sat at a little table, fiddling with a piece of paper with an address written on it.

((Sorry this one is so boring ;A; ))

[King of Spades]

Alfred closed the door to his flat with a sigh. He shrugged his coat off and threw it carelessly on the armchair near the cosy fireplace. He looked around for things to do but found himself unwilling to be productive. He had a few song commissions open but those could wait, as he was too engrossed with his newest song project. The perfect love song for Mistinguett.

The American young man earned his money as quite a decent composer for salon music, little parties of the middle and upper class, and occasionally he would play his music at cafés. The payment was pretty good and commissions came on regular basis. But Alfred strived for a life as an artist, highly praised and acknowledged by the people. Someone who lived a life fully for the accomplishment of music. He did not wish to be a petty composer writing for money only and entertaining a crowd of drunk people. They would love his music, danced to it, and the next day the melody was forgotten.

Then again, he wasn't happy with the current music style. He wanted something different– a fresh breeze. Also, he wanted music that represented his country. Traditionally upbeat and modernly classy.

Alfred sighed into his pillow. He had thrown himself onto his bed. "Can't Arthur finish his writing now? I'm boreeed."

How did he even end up accepting help from his rival?

[Preffy~]

Eventually, sitting in the café alone got too boring. He has sampled the tea there and would gladly remember it for next time. When he would visit with Alfred. While fiddling with the little piece of paper, Arthur had repeatedly asked himself why he had offered his help. Had they not taken an instant dislike to each other at the Moulin Rouge? All for the sake of Mistinguett’s affections.

That was something else on his mind. He had apparently been that drunk that night at the Moulin Rouge, that he had let Alfred assist him home…so just how much of a fool had he made of himself? And was even allowed back in?

Sadly, they were questions that only Alfred could answer.

Or the hosts of the place in question. But for now, Arthur was too embarrassed to return. He supposed he could go ask Alfred now, see if it were time to find another place to drift off of a night. Maybe his want of seeing Mistinguett again would help erase the embarrassment.

On his way out of the café, he stopped to admire the girls drawing. He even paid her a compliment, to which she gave a tired smile. He returned the smile and headed out, looking again to the address he was given, already figuring out a route to the address.

He arrived at the place a short while later. It looked like a modest place. Now he knew why Alfred constantly called him rich while he had visited him this morning. He eventually located the correct door number and knocked, a little nervously, on the door.

[King of Spades]

Alfred's eyes snapped open and he jumped off the bed, nearly fell to the cold floor even. The knock startled him. Apparently, he had fallen asleep in his boredom and now he was rather cruelly woken up from his nap. He stood with wobbly legs and tried to wipe the sleepiness out of his eyes. His gaze tried to focus and the bright sun indicated that he couldn't have slept for too long.

Grumpily, he walked over to the door. Opening it he was greeted by the neat figure of Arthur Kirkland. Alfred gaped. He slammed the door shut.

The American rushed around the flat in panic and tried to clean the mess spread about here and there. He never anticipated that Arthur would visit him so soon. A quick glance on the mirror- he looked terrible. Desperately, he attempted to comb his unruly locks - only to freeze on his own movement.

Why bother?

Alfred flushed as he caught himself in being utterly ridiculous. He walked back and opened the door with a flushed face. He coughed awkwardly. "S-sorry for that. Good to see you. Please, come in."
His guest entered his flat, looking around curiously. And Alfred watched him nervously, not really knowing what to say. "I didn't expect you to come so soon. Finished your writing already?"

[Preffy~]

Alfred opened the door, Arthur smiled awkwardly only to have Alfred slam the door in his face. Well, that was rather rude, Arthur thought to himself.

Behind the door there came the mass rumbling of someone cleaning up. He had surprised Alfred by showing up, he guessed. He opened the door again, apologizing and inviting him in. Arthur choked back a laugh at Alfred's attempt to neaten his hair, but it had only resulted in it looking even more ruffled. It rather suited him more, Arthur thought, than it being neat. He was too used to neat and orderly.

“Thank you” He walked into the apartment, looking around with the same curious look Alfred had given his own apartment earlier. He could see Alfred's attempt to clean up. Things thrown to one side, music sheets lying around. “I've done all I can for today, that night at the Moulin Rouge kept bothering me. I couldn't help wonder if I made a complete prat of myself!” He blushed with embarrassment, with no memory with what had happened.

[King of Spades]

Alfred chuckled. The images of that night was all too vivid in his head. "Well, you were funny at least. Had the whole house's attention on you trying to outsing the lovely cabaret ladies. Please, sit down." They were probably going to head to the boulevard café but Alfred still had to make himself more presentable.

"Erm, I still need to get ready if you don't mind." Fetching a fresh shirt and a blue suit, he went to the bathroom. Good thing he wasn't someone to spend ages on his appearance, so he went out while still fiddling with his suspenders in less than ten minutes. "I think I'm ready to go," he said with a beaming smile.

To think of it, as long as he was in Paris, he never had any real company. No friend to visit and no one to go out with. He was just an American stranger in Paris. Arthur would be the first so it seemed. That annoyed him.

Why Arthur? The both of them had a really bad start and they both were targeting the same woman. Then again, Alfred hated being a lonely stranger, it did not suit his character and his lifestyle. Back then at home he was always surrounded by people, rarely to be seen alone. And now he felt like there was always a barrier between him and the people of Paris. The barrier was language. It was culture. It was mentality.

He loved Paris but that didn't mean that he wouldn't feel lonely from time to time.

And Arthur, Arthur spoke English.

"Shall we go?" He asked with a smile.

[Preffy~]

“Shall we go?”

Arthur replied with a polite smile and a nod of his head. He watched as Alfred closed the door behind him, then the two of them headed for the exit of the building. Arthur assumed they were heading for the café that they agreed on, so simply walked in the direction that he had walked from. Alfred seemed to be walking the same way, so he said nothing.

They really were incredibly different people, the past five minutes of silence backed this thought. Arthur looked around at the city and thought about the mass of inspiration it brought to him. Another question he had been meaning to ask Alfred, ever since he read those lyrics, came to mind again.

“Alfred…What is your inspiration?” He said, his attention still distracted by the goings on of the city. “For your songs, I mean?”

[King of Spades]

It was a nice day. Albeit cold, the sun was bright in the sky, making Alfred feel hot despite of the cool breeze grazing his figure. And he was distracted by the new fashion presented to him by the Parisian women, all of them using the bright weather to their advantage in order to showcase their newest dresses. Some of them caught his staring and giggled in response. Well wasn't he quite the popular guy? He found himself wearing a dopey grin.

But then Arthur asked him that question, making him stop for a while. Arthur too stopped and stood still beside him, eyes curious. No one ever bothered to ask him that. He was always either just one of the many musicians out there or just one lunatic with impossible visions. So Alfred was intrigued by Arthur's genuinely curious question.

Alfred smiled. He didn't require too much time to think of a good answer. "Everyday panorama of life and love of course! Music that feels like home and yet like a whole new world," said the young American from New Orleans. He then rambled about the fresh upcoming music style of the African American population back home in Southern America. "I really like to write music about the city's life and about the lost loves within."

He didn't notice that they had been standing there for quite a while, ignoring the people come and go. It tend to happen whenever he had started talking about his passion, which was one of the reason why he had not many friends.

"But you already know how I lack genius when it comes to writing about love," he added with an embarrassed chuckle. "But say, what about you?"

[Preffy~]

Arthur smiled. Music that feels like home, he had said. His own work was like that, his inspirations had all come from English countryside where he lived, the people and everything going on around him. That was why he came here, to get a new, different kind of inspiration.

He looked across as Alfred finished answering his question, and returned the question. Alfred would be described as handsome in any story, even his own. “I guess my answer is.. Everything is an inspiration. Places, people, events and other things”

Alfred's comment about his lack of genius about writing love made him think, since he agreed to help, he had been thinking how exactly he was supposed to give the help. Surely anyone can write about love. And of course, the odd thought about WHY he was helping this man write a totally romantic song, for a woman that he, himself, felt affection for had crossed his mind. Why not just let him present the song he had written, part of him had reasoned. But the romantic in him simply wouldn't allow it.

“I've been trying to think how I could help, you know,” he said, trying to figure out his first question, “And I thought, surely you've had a girlfriend you truly loved, back home?” He knew it was a stupid question, of course he had had a girlfriend. How could he not have. “Did you never write her… romantic letters? Poems?”

He apologized almost immediately afterwards. They were quite personal questions after all.

[King of Spades]

The only immediate response that Arthur got was a deadpan stare.

"No. I never had a girlfriend. Never been...in a relationship before," he said.

He never paid it any mind, but now he was suddenly aware of his lack of experience. Now, realising that he had been an embarrassing virgin, he was most likely his home town's laughing stock without him noticing, he immediately felt self-conscious.

Unfortunately, he couldn't find any words to conceal the embarrassing situation. So he just stood there, maintaining his deadpan expression. (He was pretty proud that he was able to fight down the blush or the loser face)

[Preffy~]

Arthur stopped walking at those words. Never been …. Oh god. This was going to be a lot harder then he thought. Of course, with the original lyrics, he really should have figured that out. But, it really did not make sense, this handsome man had never been in a relationship before? No way… he really must be lying!

“You… surely can't be telling the truth!” He stared at Alfred, disbelief on his face, searching for any sign of the other lying. But could see none. “You really haven't have you?”

He had to give Alfred some credit, he kept that deadpan expression as Arthur voiced his shock (If it had been him, he'd be spluttering, saying it was no-one's business.)

“Well, I said I'd help, and I'm still going to help!” He smiled, hoping his shock didn't still come across. He didn't mean to offend, some part still refused to believe. Someone with his looks and his age- wait..

“Just out of curiosity, how old are you?” Alfred was taller than him, he looked about the same age as him. Maybe? Maybe younger? He didn't know. When had they began walking again anyway?

(( Kinda back and updating posts and all that shizz *7* ahahaha. I thought it was time. *7*; )

[King of Spades]

Thinking about it, he was most likely too preoccupied by his fears, as the fact that he had repeatedly found himself not only checking out girls' assets but also that of the boys. So he ended up being the ball of awkward, who was trying to find distraction in writing songs of life and vague affections. He always tried to explain his own singleness with the fact that the land was still scarred by the civil war, the wounds too fresh to spread out love vibes. Not that he had seen any of the war himself, him being so young.

"No, really," answered Alfred sheepishly, only then did a faint blush of embarrassment spread across his cheeks like a heated glow. "I was sort of busy with some identity crisis." More like a sexuality crisis. But he should be okay now, for he was madly in love with Mistinguett.

Though he was relieved that Arthur was still going to help him, even though he seemed like too much of a love amateur. And once again he wondered why Arthur was being too kind, but decided not to question it. All English gentlemen were apparently like that.

"I'm 19!" The blond simply grinned, his short locks being swept around by the wind, making his youthful features stand up even more. The dimples were deep next to his grin.

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