Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“And look at this. It says Chopin Liszt. Do you get it? It’s like the phrase ‘shopping list’, but it’s a pun. Chopin Liszt. Hilarious, I must say.”

Liszt held the phone, dwarfed by his impressively sized hands. No wonder he could reach such octaves- Chopin was, at times, slightly envious. 

“It’s not that funny,” he began, avoiding Franz’s eyes. “It’s just a pun.”

Liszt sighed. “You know, my dear, you need to loosen out a bit. It’s not healthy for a man of your skills to be so caged up in yourself.”

Frédéric flinched. “Don’t say that. I’m open to you, at least.” His company tutted. “Hm. Very well. Ah, we’re nearly in the Drive-Thru. Quickly, make your decision.”

Chopin’s grip on the wheel tightened as he squinted. “Shit, uh… I’m fine. You order, I’m not hungry.”

Liszt raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure, Frycek? You may regret it, you know.”

Chopin nodded. “Yes, quite sure. And please don’t call me that.” Franz looked him in the eye for a second, before rolling down the windows in front of the speaker.

“I apologise. I won’t call you that anymore, then,” he whispered into Chopin’s ear, before facing the drive-thru speaker.

“Hi, how can I help you,” a voice asked flatly. Their accent was German, and incredibly tired.

“Hello, can I get a Malteser McFlurry, please?” Liszt asked, leaning on Chopin’s shoulder as the other man shuddered.

“Sure. Anything else,” the cashier asked over the mangled speaker with no emotion in their voice.

“That would be all,” said Liszt, before tapping on Chopin’s shoulder to prompt him to drive on. Without remaining to hear a word of what the speaker had to say, Frédéric revved and went forward over to the collection point.

Chopin tapped his foot impatiently while Liszt stared to the other side at a promotion board for hiring new workers. A car elsewhere beeped, as the noise faded out and Franz focused down on the leaves whispering, and the city’s bustling, and the rustle of the paper bag…

Liszt whipped his head around to see Chopin receiving their order silently from Wagner, no less. Richard avoided eye contact with his idol as he grimaced, the name tag on his uniform hanging loosely. “…Would you like any ketchup?” he asked, reclining back from the serving window.

Liszt nodded with a smile. “I don’t think that would be necessary, Wagner. But thank you. And what would you happen to be doing h-“ he began, before he received a sharp kick in the calf from Chopin. In humiliation, Wagner promptly shut the window before hurrying away.

Chopin drove out of the drive-thru, and back onto the road. It was nighttime, and nearly empty. A few lights on poles were assorted around, but for the most part the only thing visible around them was the purpling sunset. Liszt sighed with a smile, before fishing out the McFlurry, fresh from a somehow intact machine. He scooped out some in the flimsy plastic spoon before putting it in his mouth, savouring it as Chopin stared at him, then the McFlurry, then back at him once more.

Liszt put the spoon back in the tub with a sigh. “I knew you’d regret it, you know. Here,” he said, before scooping out some and holding it up to Chopin’s face. “you can have some. Let’s share.”

Frédéric flinched in disgust. “What? No. No, I’m driving. You do what you need to do, I need to focus on this,” he groaned, taking a sharp turn. Liszt laughed. “You act like I’m giving you alcohol, my friend. Here,” he began, before waving the spoonful around next to Chopin in an attempt to entice him. “You want it so bad it hurts, don’t you… Ohhh yes, you need this spoonful of Liszt’s Malteser McFlurry…”

“Okay, now you’re just making it sound weird.” Chopin snapped, before refocusing on the road. Then, he let his eyes betray him to the spoon still ever so close to his face, manned by a man with a smirk on his face. Sighing, Chopin submitted, taking a quick bite. He pondered upon the flavour for a moment.

“Oh, it’s… actually quite nice.” Frédéric stirred the wheel, thinking back to the vanilla flavours mixing with the chocolate.

“Is that so?” Liszt asked, another spoonful next to Chopin’s face. He groaned. This was going to be a tasteful and painful car journey.

Chapter Text

Schumann, Liszt and Chopin ambled through the town centre with only a sliver of a conversation being passed amongst the three men. Liszt pepped up occasionally with conversation starters to make the two talk, while Chopin averted his eyes from Schumann's as he stared at the Pole intently. Tired of the two's silent exchange, Liszt smiled and turned around.

"You know, my friends, that food is the fire of the soul- and it truly allows such souls to be set free and mingle. Come, let's find a place." 

Chopin shook his head. "There won't be any good places in this area. Um, let's just go back..."

"The McDonalds here is pretty good, actually," interjected Schumann. "We've got more than enough money to spend on some milkshakes, so..." 

Chopin and Liszt looked over at Schumann, both of them raising one eyebrow each. It had only been a day since they'd bought that McFlurry from the drive-thru, leaving them little to no time to detox from the god-forsaken fast food chain. 

"...Yeah. Whatever."

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Chopin, Liszt and Schumann sat at a table adjacent to a window, looking out in order to ignore the random child metres away screaming its lungs out. Schumann fished his phone out of his pocket before jamming a USB cable into the charging port under the table as Liszt smirked. 

"You seem in a rush, hm? Any important calls? From any important people?" he chuckled, peering at the German with a mischievous demeanour. Schumann nodded without a smile. 

"Yes. My wife. I didn't charge my phone on the way, so I should probably let her know where I am," he replied, not picking up on Liszt's joke. Franz sighed, crossing his legs and looking over to Chopin. His gaze was elsewhere, namely in his lap as he fidgeted with his fingers aimlessly. "You seem uneasy, Fryc. What's the hold-up?" 

Chopin's eyes widened at his nickname as he quickly looked over to Liszt, his gaze unsettling and empty. "Nothing. Don't think about me- weren't you already talking to Schumann here?" he stated, his eyes emotionless and direct. "I'm going to order something. Do you want that shitty ice cream again?" 

Liszt raised an eyebrow, tilting his head. "I'll have whatever you're having, my friend. Go easy on me, here. Are you sure you're okay?" Chopin rolled his eyes, getting up. "Ask your new friend what he wants."

Liszt tapped on Schumann's arm, grabbing his attention from the small phone screen as Franz nudged him to face Chopin. The pasty man shrugged in response. "You ask him, not me. That's what I said, you know. Were you even listening--" 

Liszt shot Chopin a deadpanned glance with the words please stop doing this to yourself for both of our benefits painted across his face, before turning to Schumann. "What would you like?" 

Schumann smiled uncomfortably. "Um, the Fish-O-Fillet would be nice. Thank you, Chopin," he said, before Chopin blinked emotionlessly and turned around to make his way over to the ordering screens. 

"He's not usually like this," Franz began, smiling awkwardly. "He must've, um, gotten out of bed from the wrong side or something. Please, just tolerate this for now. For all of our sakes." 

Chopin returned a few minutes later with a tray, clearly having attempted to avoid sitting with Liszt and Schumann for as long as possible. He cautiously placed down he and Liszt's chicken strips, before leaving Schumann's food on the tray for he himself to pick up. 

"How's your relationship with your wife, Schumann?" Chopin asked as Liszt stared at him uncomfortably from the side. Schumann simply laughed awkwardly, his eyebrows knitted as he opened his burger. "Quite good. We've recently become acquainted with a young fellow by the name of Brahms, and he and my wife have become indubitably close, although I am yet to fully come close to him myself." 

"So you understand the feeling of being left out by your closest ally and being replaced by someone you barely know, then?" he asked, his tone completely blank as Liszt nearly choked on a chicken strip in horror. "How strange. I wouldn't have thought you would." 

Schumann shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Ah, not particularly. I don't know what you're trying to say here, my friend." 

Chopin frowned slightly. "Oh. Do you think it's advisable to split with your wife then?" he stated as Liszt kicked him sharply in the shin, causing Chopin to wince and make an audible noise of discomfort. Schumann's face paled slightly as his laugh shifted from uncomfortable to simply dark. "Why, you tell me. It seems awfully sensitive to end a close bond over the other person simply making a new friend," he said, his eyes calculating and alert. Laughing uncomfortably, Franz took Fryderyk by the arm and led him out of the booth. 

"Well, it was nice meeting you, my friend. Great stuff, and, uh, I'll be seeing you soon. Take care. Ta-ta. Stay safe," he choked out, before hurrying him and Chopin out of McDonalds and into the cold.

"Chopin. What. The Hell. Was that." Liszt stated, his tone completely foreign. Usually in dire situations, he remained cool and steady with his winning smile and polite demeanour. But not now. Now, his eyes were anxious, and his voice was... disappointed? No, not disappointed- more as though Chopin had just stabbed him in the guts.

Chopin stared at him blankly for a moment, before his cheeks flushed completely red. "I'm sorry, Liszt." 

Franz's shoulders dropped as he rubbed his temples, his eyes downcast. "Sorry won't explain whatever the Hell-- whatever on Earth that was," he replied, quick to avoid mentioning Hell in vain. Chopin folded his arms, his eyebrows knitted and his eyes apologetic.

"I-- I don't know how to explain it. I'm sorry, really. Lately, these things have been happening, and I've been feeling... different. You're not mad, are you?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Liszt smiled weakly, shaking his head. 

"I couldn't be. Not at you, and not at anyone," he replied as Chopin glanced away at the final part of his sentence, his hopes of being an exception in Liszt's eyes obliterated. Still, he nodded, a hopeless smile on his face.

"Thank you. Shall we get going, then?"

"I don't think it would be advisable for either of us to go back." 

hii thanks for reading this chapter! anyways, my wonderful friend @foxynovacoda on tumblr has blessed us with some fanart for this godforsaken fanfic! here's their stuff below:

10/10 certified masterpieces, if you're seeing this thank you for being my sole motivation to finish this chapter LMAO 💗

anyways, 'tis all ! chapter 3 is coming soon with some art by myself (does that count as fanart?? if the fanfic author does art of their own fanfiction???? idk)