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Because any poor soul who does will surely lose.

And Arthur was one of them.

Arthur was not in his right mind when he made that bet with them. He was pissed in the first place, and the words came out naturally. After a few minutes since their deal did Arthur finally realize his mistake. A bad feeling plagued his insides, a heavy feeling that planted itself on his shoulders. He knew he was going to lose. He knew he had no chance of winning against them. They were named the Bad Touch Trio for a reason!

What did Arthur just get himself into?

When the deadline came, Arthur, with his last shred of dignity and pride, dropped to his knees and begged the evil trio desperately; he begged and begged for them to dismiss the bet and said that he would do something else instead. He suggested to give them an infinite amount of hallway passes, to give them the liberty to skip classes, or to provide them his utmost respect and loyalty as long as they don't force him to do that.

Arthur was desperate. And ashamed. Ashamed that he let these three bring down the Student Council President himself, a pupil with a snarky attitude that ruled the school with an iron fist. How did he let things go this far?

And because of one stupid mistake, here was Arthur, dressed in a purple cheerleading outfit that had their Academy's logo printed in front of his purple and white crop top. It showed his midriff, making the male self-conscious about showing so much skin.

Oh, no, it didn't end there. Along with the crop top was a mini skirt. A pathetic piece of clothing that barely covered his thighs. The hem only reached a quarter away from his hip, revealing just too much. Well, not too much at least. Metallic lilac spandex were worn underneath the skirt, hiding regions that Arthur didn't want other eyes to see.

What was he doing? He couldn't go out like this! His dignity was on the line! Who did those three sodding gits think they are? Throwing their president into tight fitting clothes and forcing him to practice with the cheerleaders. It was outrageous! Arthur can easily back out and go home; those idiots wouldn't even know!

However, Arthur couldn't. Because apparently, Gilbert was a close friend to the cheerleading captain, Elizabeta Héderváry, and is therefore a part of their plan. If Elizabeta doesn't see Arthur attend their practice session, she will most likely rat him out, causing the Bad Touch Trio to rat Arthur out to the entire school.

If he doesn't do this, Francis, Antonio, and Gilbert will release Arthur's deepest and darkest secret to the whole student body.

A secret that Arthur swore he'd take to his grave.

With no other choice, Arthur begrudgingly forced himself to do it.

x

The series of giggles was beginning to strike a nerve.

Arthur stood inside the small circle of cheerleaders, one hand holding two pom poms tightly and the other was pulling his mini skirt downwards. Why does it keep hiking up his thighs? Every step he takes the skirt seems to be getting shorter and shorter! What was up with this blasted thing?

They all wore the same uniform as him, the signature purple with white that represented their school colors. But it seems the others didn't have the same problem as him.

As Arthur gets more and more irritated with his skirt, the other cheerleaders around him giggled louder. It was funny to see their evil president in this get up; it almost made him look less terrifying. Usually when students see him getting riled up it would send them running towards the other direction.

But right now? With him wearing a crop top and mini skirt? Not so much.

Arthur finally notices the giggles and winks, so he delivers his scowl. The look that made the students back off or even faint. Nevertheless, the blonde-haired male was flabbergasted to see his infamous glare work uselessly against them. It only made them squeal and giggle louder, whispering within themselves words that Arthur could not hear.

"Stop mocking me," Arthur warned, pulling his skirt down one more time.

"They're not mocking you," Elizabeta assured, walking towards Arthur with a smile. "They just think you're really cute."

A series of hums chorused in agreement behind her.

"Hah?!" Arthur sputtered in shock. Him? Cute? How absurd! "How am I cute? How is a man wearing these types of clothes considered cute? Cute isn't even supposed to be a term to describe men!" The giggling intensifies. "Oh, will you all quit that!"

Elizabeta laughs as she places a hand on his shoulder. "You can't stop them from ogling at you," she whispered with a chuckle.

Ogle?! "I'd appreciate it if they stopped," Arthur snaps with a wild blush on his face. He was flustered alright. "Nothing about this is cute. I find this very disturbing!"

"Not to them though," Elizabeta snickers, gesturing to the giggling group of girls around them. It was fascinating to see their mean and vile president dress so girly. The uniform appears to have stripped his intimidating aura. "Ever consider joining the squad?"

"No!" Arthur retorted in horror, shaking his head rapidly. “Look, I haven’t got all day, Elizabeta. Please, let’s just get this over with. What are we doing today?”

Arthur could not forget the sinister smile on everyone’s faces.

x

“No, no, no; I am not doing that!”

Arthur was stricken with horror at what he just witnessed. The girls performed a simple, basic flip that included four people: where three stood on the ground to hoist the other up in the air, the latter spinning and twisting as if there was no gravity at all.

That trick required hours of intense practice and training - and let’s not forget to mention flexibility. Arthur may be flexible, but not in that way. How do they expect him, someone with no experience at all, to perform a trick practiced by professionals?!

“I can’t do that!”

“Sure you can!” Elizabeta encouraged as the girls set her feet back on the ground. She was the one that did those staggering movements in the air. “It’s really easy when you get into it. You’ll learn it in under ten minutes!”

“Ten minutes?” Arthur wheezed, blinking in disbelief. “Who do you think I am?! How am I supposed to learn that in under ten minutes? Are you crazy?!”

“Looks like we got a coward, ladies,” Elizabeta snorted, sending Arthur a challenging look while another girl blew a raspberry.

“Excuse me?!”

“What? You scared of heights?”

“Of course not,” Arthur argued with a faint blush. He will not let them fluster him like this! “I’m being mindful actually. I’m afraid that I might injure one of you if I perform a stunt like that. Will three people be enough to carry me even?”

“Yes! Don’t underestimate our strength; we exercise and train more than you think,” Elizabeta said with a wink. “However, we’re not the ones that will carry you.”

Arthur rose a brow. “Then who?”

“Them,” Elizabeta giggles, gesturing at someone behind him.

As Arthur turns his head around, a white flash exploding in front of his eyes. Behind the bright light revealed a smirking Frenchman with long, wavy platinum blonde hair. Behind the man were two other students, their lips pursed and cheeks red from suppressed laughter.

Upon realizing who they were, Arthur turned extremely red. "Francis!" He yelped, his hands jerking down to cover his exposed legs - more like attempted to. "Why are you here?!"

Maybe he shouldn't be surprised to see the Bad Touch Trio witnessing his impending embarrassment. Actually, now that he thought about it, they weren't here to laugh at him. They were here to collect black mail material.

"Give us a smile, mon cherie," France snickered, his grin curving wider. "This may or may not make it to the tribute for homecoming~"

"You better not, you sodding-"

"Since you're not attending at all, at least this video will make it to homecoming."

"FRANCIS!" Arthur shrieked, pulling his skirt more down. "You are the bloody vice president! This behavior is unacceptable!" Maybe if the dean were to hear of Francis' behavior - blackmailing another student - maybe they'll reconsider firing Francis from his position as Student Council Vice President. How did Francis even attain such a high position in the student body in the first place?

"Ohonhonhon, what is this?" Francis' eyes turned lustful as they glanced down at Arthur's legs. "How surprising to see that you shave, mon amie."

He threw Francis a pompom, in which the latter dodged effortlessly. "Shut up, frog! At least I don't look like some hairy buffon from my face and down," the Brit fired back with a smirk, but he couldn't wash away the blush of shame across his cheeks.

"I should be careful with my words, Arthur," the Frenchman winked, unfazed by the other's insult. "With just one click, everything will come out." He waved his phone in front of Arthur's face, causing the blonde to scowl at him.

"I really really hate you, Francis."

"And I to you~"

Arthur couldn't wait to graduate.

x

After a few minutes of practice, Arthur realized everything about cheerleading wasn't so bad. He even learned that he could do the splits. Maybe he was flexible in that way as well.

Other than the fact that he was still clad in the ridiculous cheerleading outfit, he actually enjoyed practicing with the team - excluding the three idiots who kept hiking his skirt up to take more lewd photos of him. Hah! And they called Arthur a pervert. What a bunch of morons. The Brit swore that for their senior tribute in graduation day, he was so going to include the pictures of Francis when he shaved himself a bald spot from Freshman year. It was a picture waiting to be exposed; he just needed the right time.

"Stop it!" Arthur slapped Francis' hands away. He was sitting in the Frenchman's shoulders, his legs draped in front of the latter's chest.

"I was merely holding you down, mon amie."

"You were groping me, you fucking git."

"I was not - that is just your perverted brain creating that conclusion." When Francis' was sneaking a hand up his left thigh again, Arthur took a handful of Francis' platinum locks and pulled hard. Francis' blood-curdling shriek almost made Arthur regret his actions. "YOU SHORT LITTLE GREMLIN, GET YOUR DIRTY HANDS OFF MY HAIR!"

"Who are you calling short?!"

After a session of arguments, they resumed their practice. Arthur checked his watch, pleased to see that they had about fifteen minutes of practice left. They just needed to finish one more round of flips and turns - which Arthur surprisingly learned quickly - before adjourning the practice session. He could finally return to his slacks and dress shirt. He'll probably burn this cheerleading uniform in the weekend; he'd like to forget that this day ever happened in his life.

Arthur thought that everything was fine.

Well, he spoke too soon.

The Brit flinched at the chorus of squeals under him. At this point he was at the peak of the four-level pyramid - by the way, Arthur truly did underestimate these girls' strengths… Elizabetha was the one holding him up! He blushed at this fact, but his face flushed even more red at the sight of the football players rushing inside the stadium.

Oh, no.

No, no, no, no, NO!

Arthur caught sight of a certain player with wheat-blonde hair and blue eyes in the middle of the crowd. He didn't second guess who this person was due to the signature bomber jacket he was wearing, the number '50' boldly printed at the back.

Upon seeing the man, a popular jock named Alfred F. Jones, Arthur's entire body froze. His heart skipped a beat and he finds himself gazing at him thoughtfully, his mind forgetting everything else around him. Reality pulled him back down, and upon realizing his current attire, Arthur hoped to God that Alfred doesn't look this way.

"Uhm, I think I want to go down now," Arthur chuckled nervously, hesitant eyes shifting from Alfred to Elizabeta.

Elizabeta opened her mouth to reply, but Francis beat her to it. "No, no! Practice isn't over yet, mon amie," the Frenchman reminded from down below. "Elizabeta, please do not listen to him."

"Francis," Arthur replied through gritted teeth, trying to send the message through a deep scowl. "Put me down."

"Don't you want to show off your sexy legs to a certain someone?"

Arthur's face burned red at Francis' comment. Sometimes Arthur liked to imagine himself strangling the Frenchman over a cliff, or shaving his curly locks as he cries; because that bloody idiot deserves it! That man needs to get punished for every time he pulls a prank to embarrass Arthur. He's done that already by putting him in these clothes, and now he's about to embarrass Arthur in front of his crush!

Yes. Crush. Arthur had somehow formed a crush on World Academy's golden boy.

This was Arthur's most deepest and darkest secret that he'd take to the grave.

If word came out that Arthur Kirkland likes Alfred F. Jones… the Brit needed to pack all of belongings and return back to England to hide away in a cave and never face civilization again.

It would be the most embarrassing thing that could happen to Arthur. Him? Mr. Goody-two-shoes-with-a-stick-up-his-ass having the audacity to crush on every girl's dream boat? It would put a dent on Alfred's reputation in World Academy; anyone would be embarrassed if they found out that Arthur Kirkland had a crush on them.

It was quite sad actually, but Arthur thought he'd get away with it! If it weren't for Francis' gossip-sniffing nose, then his secret wouldn't have been shared with three other people. Meaning he wouldn't have been in this situation in the first place!

The Bad Touch Trio, aware of Arthur's unrequited love, dared the Brit to ask Alfred to homecoming. Arthur, being stupid for the first time, accepted it and failed miserably. At this point Arthur had no idea what drove him to accept the challenge. Was it his pride? Or was it the fact that he thought he'd get a chance with Alfred?

Which is impossible. The man never made time to even look at Arthur. Oh, and did he mention that Alfred was straight?

Returning back to reality, Arthur almost lost balance when he and Alfred's eyes meet. The American was staring at him; not at any of the other cheerleaders, he was staring at Arthur. And he was staring hard.

Arthur felt his heart drop. Fuck my life. It didn't look like it, but Alfred was probably laughing on the inside, thinking of how ridiculous Arthur looked.

It was so embarrassing. Arthur felt like curling and dying inside a dark hole.

"Alfred!"

One of his teammates had called behind him, but Alfred never responded. The pair had been playing football, but Alfred's attention strayed over to Arthur. Since he wasn't focusing on their game, the football that flew over hit the ground instead, breaking Alfred from his trance.

Arthur watched everything transpire from above, and he gasped when he sees the football ricocheting towards him. From his peripheral vision, the students only watched as the ball hurled upwards to Arthur's direction, earning him even more unwanted eyes to witness his embarrassing attire. Afraid of the ball thrashing against his face, Arthur's hands shot up and caught the football perfectly.

Relief washed over him for a second before terror stroke. Catching the ball had made him lose balance, forcing his body to fall backwards. Gasps and screams shrilled under him as he watched the blue sky take over. He hears himself scream as well; although the fall would be short, it would still cost him a sprain or two.

The fall was quick, leaving Arthur no time to adjust to a better falling position. Nevertheless, he didn't need to worry, for he had fallen into a pair of strong arms that broke his fall. The Brit finds himself pulled into a warm embrace, his head against a hard chest while his hands held onto a broad back. His eyes quickly looked up to meet Alfred's gaze, the latter sporting a faint blush on his cheeks.

Arthur didn't care how Alfred had gotten here with ungodly speed, nor did he acknowledge the worried crowd forming around them; he focused his attention onto those mesmerizing pools of azure that were Alfred's eyes.

The Brit realized why he'd fallen so hard for Alfred. His eyes, ever so blue like the sky, would twinkle whenever he was happy and excited. Along with the pearly-white American smile, the gorgeous tanned skin, and those toned muscles that hid behind those tight-fitting shirts. Who wouldn't fall in love with the golden boy of World Academy?

Arthur never realized how he and Alfred were staring into each other's eyes until a flash clicked in the background. The Brit tore his gaze away from the American, and in a fraction of a second his face turned red at the audience who were watching Alfred hold Arthur like a prince carrying a princess in a fairy tale.

"Another picture to add to the tribute!"

Arthur had never ran away so fast in his life.

x

Inside one of the stalls in the changing room, Arthur was fuming. He was still wearing the flimsy outfit. Why? Because three idiots decided to steal his goddamn clothes! He had set his duffle bag beside the stall door, and as he was pulling the top over his head, he saw an arm shoot inside from below, grasping onto the straps of the bag before pulling it out.

Arthur didn't even have time to shout in anger; their laughter bounced across the walls of the changing room, overshadowing the Brit's quibbles. Their banters began drowning out as they exit the building, leaving Arthur alone with no change of clothes.

After a few minutes, he kicked the stall door open, causing the rest of the stalls to rattle and shake. Arthur was not walking back to the dorms looking like this. He still had a shed of pride inside of him, he wasn't about to let it shatter any further.

Arthur remembered leaving his gym clothes inside the locker rooms.

That was his last resort for a change of clothes. However, as he enters the locker room, he jumps and screams when he sees Alfred sitting on one of the benches. The blue-eyed American lifts his gaze, smiles, and waves.

"What are you doing here?" Arthur dismisses his pounding heart. He could still feel the anger coursing through his veins; it did a lot to mask his flustered demeanor. "After school hours ended fifteen minutes ago. You're supposed to be heading home or to the dorms."

Alfred stood up and shrugged. "I could say the same thing to you, Mr. President," he replied with a grin. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, hesitant. Was he nervous?

Arthur decided to look past it. "One of my responsibilities include patrolling around the campus facilities to ensure the students, like you, aren't hanging around after the gates are closed." It was a lie. After the Bad Touch Trio stole his clothes, he had to stay inside the stalls, waiting for everyone to clear out so he could run to the locker room and change. He was sure the football players left after everything had gone quiet, so why was Alfred still here? "You never answered my question; why are you here?"

Arthur watched Alfred bring a hand up to scratch the back of his head. "Uhm…"

Azure eyes were blinking and fluttering from behind a pair of spectacles. When they decided to shift down, lingering on a certain spot, Arthur sucked a gasp and cleared his throat. He's entirely forgot about the outfit he was wearing.

Saving himself from any more embarrassment, Arthur shuffled past Alfred, forgetting that the latter hasn't answered him yet. He sauntered to his locker, ready to grab his gym clothes and track-star run back to the stalls, but he skidded to a stop. One of the locker doors were opened, slightly swinging from left to right while creating a faint creaking sound. Only then did he realize it was his locker. And only then did he realize it was empty, save for the bottle of shampoo and body wash. Other than that, there were no signs of his gym clothes.

"What the-?!"

"Oh, uhh…" Alfred stammered behind him. Footsteps creeped closer. "Francis, Antonio and Gilbert came in and they uh… took your stuff."

What. "You saw and didn't think to stop them?!" Arthur spun angrily, scowling hard at Alfred while pointing an accusing finger. "Tell me, are you a part of their plan to embarrass me even further?!" What if Alfred knew of Arthur's crush on him? At this point, Arthur was too angry to care.

Alfred held up his hands defensively while he shakes his head. "No! Hey, dude, calm down! I did try to stop them, I really did - trust me. But Francis was threatening to shut down the football club if I interfered with them - which is really not cool by the way, for a Vice President to do that. Anyway, I promise I'm not lying! I'd let you borrow my gym clothes so you can change, but uh… they'd probably be to big for you, they'll hang on you most likely, and they're actually unwashed and really gross - or you know what, just… just disregard what I just said ten second ago.. haha… ha…"

Arthur, perplexed at Alfred's rambling, stared at him incredulously. One of Alfred's traits was being obnoxiously loud and confident, ever so to the point where you can hear him talk from a mile away. The Brit never witnessed a moment where Alfred appeared so nervous and reserved until now. Was he okay? Was this even Alfred he's talking to? What if it was his brother? Alfred… did have a brother, right? He's heard of him before… what was his name again? Max? Michael? Mitch? He knew the American had a brother… but he couldn't remember his name.

"Also, uh, your question… I'm here to apologize." Alfred was looking everywhere but Arthur. And if the Brit squint hard enough, he could see a faint blush glowing on Alfred's cheeks. "It was my fault you fell and almost broke an ankle… or an arm. I wasn't paying attention to the game, and I couldn't catch the football on time. I'm really sorry about that…"

Now it was Arthur turn to look away and become bashful. He awkwardly held his arm and replied, still refusing to look at Alfred now that he remembered how the latter had caught him. So embarrassing! A small part of him wanted to see the picture that Francis had taken, the picture of Alfred holding Arthur bridal style… but the other part said he wanted to delete that picture forever.

"I… accept your apology. And I'd like to thank you for catching me back there. You shouldn't feel too bad, I suppose."

"Really? Thanks, dude," Alfred replied. When Arthur turned to look at him, he sees Alfred smiling and gazing at him straight to the eye. Arthur would have looked away, but he locks his gaze once Alfred turned bashful again. His hand reached up to grab the back of his neck. "Anyways, uh, hey, Arthur - I uh…"

Alfred continued to ramble incoherent sentences that were so un-Alfred like it began to persuade Arthur into believing that this may not be Alfred, but his quiet, introverted brother instead. What was his name again?

"Yeah so… homecoming is coming up.."

Mike? Mason?

"It's next week Friday…"

Max? Michelle? Wait, no that's a girl's name.

"And I uh, I need a date..."

How does he not remember his name? They were in the same grade and class… were they in the same class? He doesn't see him that often.

"I was wondering if you wanted… Arthur?"

Mateo? Miguel? No, that was Antonio's brother.

"Arthur?"

Mark? Martin? Miles?

"Arthur, are you listening to me?"

Arthur hummed, blinking away from his thoughts. The blue-eyed American glanced at him, his brows furrowed to show concern.

"Uh, pardon, what did you say?" Wow. How embarrassing.

"You weren't listening?"

"No… sorry…"

"You didn't hear a single word at all?"

"No…"

Alfred stops, and he takes a long pause. The awkward silence was making Arthur really anxious, especially since Alfred was staring at him. Literally. He stared with no emotion in his face. What was he thinking? Was he angry? Annoyed? Maybe Arthur should have listened… it sounded important too.

"I was asking if you want to go to homecoming with me," Alfred said, rather too quickly.

Arthur didn't quite catch it. "I thought you weren't going to homecoming?" After realizing what he just said, the golden-haired Brit stammered. "Or that's what I've heard…"

It was kind of true. Ever since the drama about Alfred declining to be a candidate for homecoming king broke out, Arthur's been listening into the gossip. Part of him was relieved that Alfred declined the offer, because there was a very high chance of Alfred winning the title, and that would mean he would be dancing with the homecoming queen. Nevertheless, a part of him was curious on why Alfred declined because, once again, he had a very high chance of winning and even he knew that.

"Who ever said I wasn't attending homecoming?"

"Well, you did decline your candidacy for homecoming king."

"That doesn't mean I'm not attending."

"Oh."

Another awkward silence filled the air.

"So?" Alfred was the first to break it. His face was still flushed pink. "What do you say?"

Arthur furrowed his brows. "Say what?"

"About homecoming?"

"What about it?"

"..."

"..."

"Did you hear me when I asked if you wanted to go to homecoming with me?"

"No, I didn- wha… what?!"

Did he hear that correctly?

Alfred? Alfred Fucking Jones? Asking him to homecoming?

"Me?" Arthur's mouth was agape. Questions began flooding his head. "You're asking me to go to homecoming with you?"

"Yeah, about two times," Alfred chuckled, and all of the nervousness he used to carry dissipated. He now held a confident smile, which was blinding Arthur because of how bright it was. "Took you long enough to react."

"Wait a minute, hold up… me?" Arthur's heart was racing. This cannot be happening. "You're joking, right?"

Alfred shook his head. "No. Why would I be joking?"

"Did Francis set you up?"

"No? Why would you assume that? This isn't a prank, if that's what you're thinking. I promise! I've been wanting to ask you to homecoming, I just couldn't find the right time… or the courage. It's part of the reason why I declined running for homecoming king. 'Cause if I do end up winning, I didn't want to leave you and dance with some random girl… a-assuming you do say yes! W… will you go to homecoming with me? Please?"

All those questions began escaping Arthur's lips without him knowing. "Me? Why me?"

Alfred blushed again. "Well, you're really cute, y'know? And pretty. I've been trying to build the courage to talk to you ever since I first saw you. But you were always so busy, being President and all, and I thought that someone like you would never look my way."

I felt that about you as well. Was what Arthur wanted to say, but he bit his tongue.

"And when homecoming was announced, I thought it would be the best opportunity for me to make a move. So… yeah. You look really adorable in that outfit by the way."

Arthur had turned scarlet at this point.

No way.

Alfred Fucking Jones actually liked him?

"That doesn't make sense!" Arthur blurted out. "Aren't… aren't you straight? There's literally thousands of girls that would kill to be asked to homecoming with you."

Alfred chuckled. "I don't swing that way, dude."

"Swing what-" Oh. Oh. "Wha… what? But I thought… I was positive that you were… I was sure…"

Arthur shuts his mouth when something warm pressed around his back. He glanced up to see Alfred wrapping his bomber jacket around Arthur's shoulder.

"You don't have to answer me now, I'll give you time to think about it! And it's getting late. We should go," Alfred announces, pointing a thumb behind him. "I don't have anything else but my jacket, it's still a little big, but it's better than nothing, yeah? Don't want you catching a cold."

Arthur rather liked the warmth radiating inside of the jacket. Slipping his arms inside the sleeves, he chuckles at the fact that his hands couldn't even reach the end of them. The rim of the jacket reached his thighs. It wasn't the perfect size, but who was he to complain? The jacket made him feel strangely protected and comfortable.

"I can walk you to the dorms if you want," Alfred offered with a wink. "If Francis, Antonio or Gilbert show up, I'll be more than happy to chase them away for you. Sound good? I am a hero after all."

Arthur laughed at that. His heart was fluttering and he was getting giddy, as if his high school crush had asked him out on a date. Well, in this case that was true. It was what Arthur felt like at the moment.

"So? Shall we?" Alfred gestured to the exit.

Before leaving, Arthur spoke, "Uhm, Alfred? I'd… I'd love to go to homecoming with you."

Alfred's smile was brighter than the sun, and his blue eyes were twinkling. "Really?" Arthur could tell the American wanted to bear-hug the life out of Arthur, but he resorted to wrapping an arm around Arthur's shoulder instead. Baby steps it seems. "That makes me glad. We should match by the way! That'll be really awesome! I'll buy the tickets also, so don't worry about them. Should we get boutonnières? Actually, I'll get them as well! What do you say about roses?"

Arthur watched with a smile as Alfred planned their homecoming. It was like watching a child getting excited for his birthday.

"You're really sweet for a jock."

"Is that supposed to be an insult?"

"Take it as a compliment."

Both of them exit the building with bright smiles.

x

Meanwhile, three pairs of eyes watched Alfred and Arthur walk further away from the building, the American's arm still wrapped around the shorter blonde's shoulders.

"See? What did I tell you?"

Francis grinned at Antonio and Gilbert, who were giving each other a high five.

"All those two lovebirds needed was a little push~"