Work Text:
When Arthur stepped foot on the dusty carpet floor from the auditorium in H.W. Academy, he became aware he’d done a terrible mistake.
No one seemed to notice him at first. Everyone seemed preoccupied enough by buying snacks and finding seats near the stage, which was covered by a red curtain. Yet Arthur, as paranoid as he was from being recognized, had opted by dressing up in an entirely different attire from what he was accustomed to wearing. He wore sunglasses and a grey plain cap, along with a black scarf that covered much of his face and neck. On the other hand, Arthur wore a big hood that didn’t resemble his thin frame and a pair of casual black pants. Even though he admitted his outfit was close to atrocious, Arthur’s clothes covered most of his frame, to what he was simply grateful.
Arthur hurried and sat as far away as he could from the centre, trying to mix on with the background so no one would notice him. He didn’t want to have to make small talk with whatever bloke sat next to him —and he was sure the British accent would give away his disguise. He had been the only British boy to ever go to H.W. Academy in decades.
As the function didn’t start yet, Arthur stood uncomfortable on his sit. He thought
about every possible logical reason to return to that hellhole of school; especially after experiencing on first hand the nightmares that came with that place, and resulted in cursing his own sentimentalism.
Yes, maybe the school musical had been one of the only partially great memories he had by the time he went to the school. Year after year, Arthur had come to be a nobody, history nerd that spent his time reading fantasy rather than partying with the jocks of school. Not that anyone ever invited him, either way.
But then Miss Héderváry came up with the idea of a musical among students. Arthur was immediately thrilled about the initiative, especially due to his special fondness to musicals on his leisure time.
And, as Arthur was a member of the music club, he began to become involved in the whole process without noticing. Even if people didn’t like him, when he walked up the stage and his guitar sang with such passion, everyone just stared at him with a wide-eyed expression while silently praising his talent.
But the Musical, unfortunately, hadn’t been enough for him to survive through the most horrible years of his life. The Musical had been a mere chimera, indeed. Behind all those charming suits and the melodious voices, there was a myriad of vain, self-centered brats. Arthur hated them all, especially as they seemed to take pleasure in torment those who were different to them.
So why, out of every possible choice, had Arthur decided to assist to the Musical, now that he wasn’t a student there anymore? It was complicated, indeed. Firstly, there was the usual English pride in watching a musical inspired on one of the greatest groups of all time, if not the best. Arthur was a hopeless fan of Queen and he knew that the songs would be marvellous, if the performers could handle it. And, having witnessed the degree of perfectionism and compromise Miss Héderváry held, Arthur knew he wouldn’t be disappointed in the matter.
On the other hand… That was a more complex subject to discuss, especially because Arthur knew he couldn’t go over it without sounding like a nostalgic masochistic prat. Because, even after all the humiliations, Arthur had hoped. And the musical had been his beacon in the whole situation.
Arthur continued sulking on his sit, letting his thoughts wander. His heartbeat was increasing by seconds. Dear lord, what was wrong with him? No one had seen him, yet he still felt anxious. And his fears and insecurities seemed to come to the surface.
Suddenly, Arthur heard someone call his name. He abruptly turned around, without identifying the owner of the voice. Arthur scanned the room with rapid nervousness and glared at the floor when he found out he had imagined the whole event. God, he was such a lunatic. Arthur was just about to sit in the corner while trying to cope with his shame when he heard a voice, that appeared to be directly towards his place.
“Hey, dude, ya looking for someone?” Arthur’s whole body tensed as he turned around, while the voice behind him chuckled slightly.
“Uh, not— erm, not at all…” Arthur had trouble to keep the words in order, and ended up stuttering.
“ Oh, ‘right. Hey, you’re not from here, are you?” the stranger asked. Only then did Arthur’s eyes examine the figure before him. The guy was tall and muscular, blond to the core and with big, baby blue eyes. He seemed relaxed, wearing off a soft smile that denoted his mood.
“Oh, no. Well, I—I used to study here,” Arthur said, only realising then how pathetic he did look. He wasn’t there to see someone and he didn’t currently study there. God, what would the stranger think? Certainly, that there was something wrong with Arthur. Maybe he wasn’t right in the head. Or maybe he was just some sick fuck. Arthur sighed, cursing himself internally. There wasn’t really any way the conversation would turn out well at this pace.
“Really? Ah, that explains it all,” the guy said. “I mean, I got transferred here this year. Still, I know mostly everyone here, so I was surprised when I didn’t seem to recognize ya,” then, the guy extended his large hand, in a friendly manner. “Name’s Alfred. Alfred F. Jones.”
“A-Arthur Kirkland,” he said, despising himself again for not acting confident enough. “It’s, uh, it’s nice to meet you.”
“Yeah, you too. It’s not every day I get to meet a British guy, you know?” Alfred joked. Arthur laughed at that. “I mean, it’s funny. This is a musical about a British band but we don’t have anyone from there.”
“ I don’t think that would be a problem. A-Actually Freddie Mercury was born in Tanzania, so…” Arthur quickly shut his mouth, afraid Alfred would think he was an arrogant Mr. know-it-all. However, Alfred’s grin only widened, as if he was a child learning a new word.
“Woah, really? I didn’t know that! That’s cool! You’re really smart, Arthur!”
“Heh, nonsense. It’s just a silly fact,” he said, although Arthur couldn’t help it and grinned sheepishly. “Who are you playing as?”
“Can you guess it?” Alfred asked playfully, stepping a little bit farther so Arthur could see his whole outfit from his view.
Alfred wore laced red and black leather trousers, with chains on either side of them. His shiny boots seemed to follow the pattern, with spikes tugged in a red cloth by the ankle side. Finally, he wore a black shirt without sleeves, with a silver-chained collar around his neck. Arthur tried not to stare too much at the latter, and kept his view on Alfred’s friendly eyes while his eyebrows furred slightly.
“You’re Scaramouche?!” he quickly covered his mouth when he heard his own loud tone. Alfred, however, didn’t seem bothered by it in the least. Instead, he chuckled patting Arthur’s back.
“Ya bet I am, Artie!”
“But, isn’t… Isn’t Scaramouche a…?”
“Yes, I know. But, I mean, this is a school play, we don’t really need to be faithful in all detail,” as Alfred spoke he seemed to get closer to Arthur’s frame. “Scaramouche has always seemed such a powerful character for me, so when I saw the audition poster I thought, why not? Besides, I guess I always identified with her the most, so this is like, dunno, a tribute or something?” Arthur simply stared at the American, wondering just how would a sociable creature like Alfred ever feel rejected for being different. He was sure, had Alfred been less kind towards him, he would’ve pointed out the fact with no remorse at all.
But, instead, he simply shrugged, evading slightly Alfred’s gaze.
“I guess I relate to her too.”
They stood there, in silence, simply staring at each other for a couple of seconds. Alfred didn’t seem bothered by it in the least and resumed in eyeing him curiously, a smile still held on his face. Arthur sighed, asking himself just what would’ve happened if Alfred had been in the school the same time as him. Would they be friends, or would’ve Alfred simply ditch off Arthur, like everyone else had? He didn’t want to think about it, knowing too well what the answer to that matter would be. Arthur knew Alfred’s type. Those gorgeous blonds that haven’t had a bad time in their lives. That smiled at strangers like him as if they were friends, but deep inside just wanted to laugh at him.
Alfred seemed to sense the change in atmosphere and opened his mouth in a confused gesture when a thick nasal voice spoke, making his way towards them.
“Arthur Kirkland?” As if fate was mocking him, he had to cross paths with the most insufferable guy he had ever met. Arthur thought momentarily in every possible way he could avoid the situation, finishing his thoughts in a dead end. Finally, Arthur turned around, almost afraid at what he would have to face. A man with a large blond wavy hair with a smirk Arthur knew too well stood beside him, eyeing him with both incredulity and amusement. “To think I would see you here, of all things,” he chuckled, inching closer to Arthur’s frame. The Englishman tried to keep his distance, rage bubbling in his insides, but Francis only seemed to chuckle more at the gesture. “And, for what I see, you’re still not on the football team, right? Or in the fashion sense team. Really, now. I’m not sure how the mirror can’t break when en face of your personne,” he whispered the last part, yet it was loudly enough so Arthur would hear him.
Arthur felt the palms of his hands turning sweaty, and tried to inspire so he would feel in control. Nevertheless, Francis always seemed to sense the effect he had on Arthur, and it surely appeared to amuse him. In consequence, he took a step forward, patting lightly Arthur’s back as if they were longtime friends.
“How impolite. Instead of greeting an old mate, you go on and pester mon copain Alfred,” Francis tsked. “Let me guess. You felt bad and you came here so you can become the teacher’s pet again,” he laughed at his own joke. “Don’t misunderstand me. Your departure surely did have an impact at school. I mean, now I can’t help to think the librarian gets lonely, without the only student that went to the library on every recess for years. I recall you ate there sometimes too, non?”
Arthur couldn’t find a reply. His cheeks were turning redder by the second, and his whole body felt hot with embarrassment. When his sight found Alfred’s, Arthur just wished the ground would just swallow him fully.
«You’re so worthless. You don’t even have the pride to answer him, » he wasn’t even sure who had said that, but Arthur suddenly felt it was difficult to breathe.
Eventually, Francis seemed to grow tired of his teasing, and so he patted Alfred’s back to catch his attention.
“Mademoiselle Héderváry is looking for you. They still need to put some makeup on you and fix your hair, Alfred. The function starts in fifteen minutes, after all.”
Alfred nodded, even though he didn’t move immediately. Instead, he appeared to want to say something, but he finally marched away. Francis started to do the same thing, although he stopped to whisper something to Arthur, his breath tickling on the back of his neck.
“Gil and Toni are here too, you know. I can’t imagine how happy they’ll be with the presence of our cher Arthur in the audience. Have you brought your vieille guitar too, Arthur? You can pretend to be Freddie and tear your shirt. That would surely be an unforgettable performance, although I fear most people would just run horrified,” and with that, Francis Bonnefoy left him.
Boy, how much did Arthur hate that guy. Everything about him —his looks, his accent, his boisterous laugh, and especially— especially his capacity to put down everyone that wasn’t like him or his stupid friends.
And the worst part of all is that Alfred had seen it, Arthur thought bitterly while sitting again. He had seen how much of a loser Arthur really was —and he surely had seen how much of a prat Arthur had been for not responding to Francis’ taunting. Even though, on the bright sight of all, it wasn’t as if Alfred and Arthur were friends at all. Essentially, Alfred had been kind, but he would surely end up parting his way from Arthur, leaving the other oddly heartbroken and sour for hoping too much. Francis’ antics had only accelerated the inevitable, something that both calmed and unnerved Arthur.
He stood with his hands curled on his lap, thinking about what Francis’ words. Gilbert Beilschmidt and Antonio Carriedo were there too, and would probably come mock him the second Francis told them he was there.
Arthur sighed. Why did he think coming back was such a good idea in the first place? He could leave now —but no, the lights just went off, and surely he would attract even more attention by storming out of the auditorium now.
Finally, he resigned himself and focused his attention on the play. They started the function with Radio GaGa, sung by Mei, a quiet Taiwanese student with whom Arthur had shared some classes. Arthur remembered her as the closer to a good human being that school had, and clapped lightly when the performance ended.
The musical progressed according to the original one. Some girl Arthur did not recognize was playing as Galileo —ah, the musical featured more gender bends, wasn’t that lovely— and then Alfred finally stepped on the stage. He looked more powerful, wearing purple sunglasses that matched with his partially purple dyed hair. He also wore a black leather jacket, which appeared to give him a more rebelled appearance.
Everything was normal until the next scene. The GaGa girls started to pester Alfred— Scaramouche, about his looks. Arthur knew that scene, but seeing that there, just after what had happened seemed to leave an impact on him. One GaGa girl threw Alfred’s sunglasses away while the others laughed, and Arthur felt a throb of pain run through his body for how relatable he found the situation. Alfred was left knees on the ground, picking his glasses helplessly, while slowly tilting his head towards the audience. The actresses lined up in what Arthur assumed were their positions for the choreography, while Alfred’s arm rose, directly towards the audience.
“Can anybody find me somebody to love?”
Alfred suddenly stood, now putting the hand on his heart with a sorrowful expression.
“Ooh, each morning I wake up and die a little, can’t barely stand on my feet”, Alfred trembled, almost falling, but instead turning around in a calculated movement.
“(Take a look at yourself) Take a look in the mirror and cry (and cry)” The American sang above the chorus, walking from a corner of the stage to the other, the focus on him.
“I have spent all my years in believing you and I just can’t get no relief, Lord!
Somebody (somebody) ooh somebody (somebody)
Can anybody find me somebody to love?” he looked right at the audience, with eyes so piercing Arthur could almost swear he was looking at him.
The Gaga girls started to mock him, while Alfred kept a determined expression. He pointed towards them, turning around.
I work hard (he works hard) every day of my life. I work ‘till I ache in my bones,
At the end (at the end of the day)
I take home my hard-earned pay all on my own
“I get down (down) on my knees (knees)
And I start to pray (praise the lord)
Till the tears run down from my eyes (oooh)” Alfred faced the ground, still staring at the audience above him with a pained expression on his face.
“Oh somebody (somebody), ooh somebody (somebody)
Can anybody find me somebody to love?”
Arthur surely had to be going mad. There was no way such a talented folk was singing that song to him. It had to be a mistake. Yes, of course it had to be a mistake. Arthur simply was delirious, a poor folk with an increased ego, because there was not a single real possibility in the world that was happening what he thought was happening.
But then, then Alfred went up again. He moved through the whole stage, gesticulating here and there the motions he wanted to highlight.
“Everyday (everyday)
I try and I try and I try
But everybody wants to put me down
They say I'm going crazy
They say I got a lot of water on my brain
I got no common sense
I got nobody left to believe
Yeah!”
Arthur felt breathless as Alfred smiled at him. Arthur couldn’t even register Alfred ending the song, as he was too occupied staring incredously at the performance.
“Can anybody find me somebody to love?”
Immediately, an applause broke Arthur’s trance, to which he joined actively. That had been, without a doubt, the best performance of the whole play. Arthur didn’t think he was the only one noting the fact, as everyone’s claps seemed to go a lot louder with the song.
Francis went right after, acting the song of Killer Queen —he had been good, Arthur had to admit, but he didn’t hold on Alfred’s standards in the least. Soon enough, the act ended, and Arthur found himself eagerly walking closer to the stage.
Alfred waved at him, a charming smile on his face. Arthur noted he had put on his normal glasses again, and he seemed sweaty. When he inched closer, he just felt the warmth radiating Alfred’s body, and had to get a hold of himself on not embracing the figure before him.
“Hey, how was it? Did you like it? I missed a couple of steps on the choreography, though. I was pretty nervous.”
“You —erm, you were marvelous,” Arthur stated. Alfred grinned wider. “Seriously, you were ridiculously good,” Alfred was about to answer him when a group of students cycled him, congratulating him for his performance. Arthur instantly felt out of place,
with raising thoughts on why Alfred had looked at him the whole time. Arthur decided in waving Alfred a goodbye as he left the building. Whatever. The first act had been his favourite part anyway.
Arthur was walking towards his car when someone yelled his name. He quickly turned, confused, to face Alfred inching closer to him. For once, the guy wasn’t smiling —no. He looked as if something was worrying him.
“Hey, Arthur, you’re —uh, you’re leaving so soon?” he asked, faking a grin. Arthur nodded, slightly uncomfortable for the fact Alfred had followed him the way there.
“Yes. I’m afraid I must go somewhere now. You —You should go to the auditorium. The second act is about to start,” he reasoned. Alfred didn’t move an inch. Then, he took a step forward, closer to Arthur.
“Hey, uh, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable with something. With, you know, the song. That wasn’t my intention at all.”
“I know,” Arthur said calmly. “You just wanted to put a good show.”
“Eh, pardon?”
“Do not worry in the least. If I somehow helped you find inspiration for the song, I’m honoured.”
“Hey! That not—”
“Really, save everything you think that might cheer me. I’ve heard it all. You’ll say people like me are the ones changing the world, and that everyone that hates me for who I am is simply an arsehole, and that if I’m smart enough I shouldn’t care what they thought of me and go on with my life, and…”
“Arthur!” Alfred seemed frustrated. Arthur paused his rambling to stare at him expectantly. Alfred quietly apologised for the tantrum. “I was, uh, actually going to ask you if you’d like to go get dinner sometime.”
“What?”
Alfred immediately turned red. “I, I mean, I wasn’t planning on doing so. But, you know, Francis told me you were… And I just, heh, sort of hoped you’d want to go out with me or something. I mean, we can still be friends! But, you know, I just wondered…”
“Wait,” Arthur gave him an inquiring look. “You… You want to date me?” he asked in disbelief. Alfred smiled slightly, running his tongue through his bottom lip in a nervous manner. Carefully, he nodded, and Arthur wondered if his confident poise had been just an act. “Why?” he couldn’t help to ask.
“Well, I… I’m not sure. But you’re so interesting and nice and I just want to know more about you and I wanted to impress you but that obviously didn’t work too well so...”
“Alfred, love, you did impress me,” he chuckled lightly at Alfred’s reaction to the nickname. Then, he sighed. “I might turn out to be a disappointment, you know.”
Alfred laughed at that, caressing Arthur’s back. “I don’t think so.”
“And this is a mere glimpse of how horrible I am in social situations,” Arthur warned, although he held a soft smile on his face.
“Well, I’m bubbly enough for the two of us, so...”
“And you will surely have to waste a ton of money on throat pastilles.”
“Hmm?” Alfred frowned a bit.
“Because, with a voice like yours, I won’t be letting you stop singing in a lifetime,” Arthur said. Alfred chuckled.
“Well then, let’s hope we find something I do without singing that you might enjoy as well,” he joked, and Arthur laughed at the innuendo.
Four years later, when the song popped out on the radio the night before their wedding, Arthur felt all his worries flow away.
Maybe going to see the musical hadn’t been a bad idea, after all.