Arthur - Oneshot

"Arthur"

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Alfred had been seated in a coffee shop, aside the window next to the big main street, sipping on his freshly made latte when he had seen him across the street.

The American boy didn’t know why or how, but for some reason his eyes were pulled towards the other. He couldn’t help but continue staring as the other stood on the pavement, back facing the opposite wall, guitar loosely around his shoulders. In general Alfred didn’t think of himself as a creeper of any sorts or one to look at others a lot; to be honest he had never really looked at anyone like this before.

People were fun to look at, but none were attractive enough to get from “you look nice” to “I love you” or anything, if outer image was even related to romance. The young blond shook is head shortly at his drifting thoughts, as he continued to focus on the man across the street.

The other was obviously singing and playing his guitar, guitar case in front of him, hoping to catch some money. Alfred couldn’t hear the other from where he was seated, but he did feel mesmerized by the movements made by the other’s lips.

He continued to stare and take in every detail of the man. He seemed to have messy, blond locks, though they seemed like they had been dyed before as a slight blue colour seemed to be vaguely visible over his entire hair. Even from across the street, Alfred could see the other’s intense eyes. The colour was hard to determine from here, but he could see a certain spark in them that made his stomach fill with excitement and cheeks heat up with a faint blush.

The other’s figure wasn’t fragile, nor was it strong. It wasn’t femine, but not very masculine either. It was hard to determine the other’s body type, but it seemed to fit the other well. It seemed to compliment his entire being, from the way the guitar almost looked too heavy for him, as his lean fingers pulled the strings to how his strong jaw line and nose made him look strong and sharp like a very well-crafted sword.

By the time Alfred remembered his coffee’s existence, the liquid had become almost cold, and with quick gulps he downed it before it would become completely cool.

A nice, young lady came by his table to clean up the cup, before she caught him staring.

“Arthur,” she said. At first Alfred was confused what she meant, but as he looked up to her she gave a quick nod to the man across the street, “his name is Arthur.”

“Ah,” Alfred didn’t know how to respond. He could feel how he was surprisingly eager to know more about the other male, but he also tried to refrain from these feelings as they were very weird and most certainly not what he’d want others to do if they were as amazed by him.

“He always buys tea here after a long day,” the woman continues, “he’s a kind fellow; not as tough as he seems, not as fragile as he looks.” She nodded with a content smile on her face. And just as she did, the man across the streets looked up and decided to collect his stuff to then make way towards the coffee shop Alfred was sitting at.

Alfred could feel how his stomach became a small ball of nerves, growing as the other male got closer to the door. The woman gave a content huff and left again, to work behind the bar.

The American boy continued to stare at the man who entered the shop, seemingly unknowing of Alfred’s interest in him. A quick smirk and a slight turn of the head Alfred's way gave him away though, and Alfred felt heat bloom on his cheeks. He was acting so silly!

“Arthur,” the man introduced himself a few minutes later, as he casually sat down on the opposite site of Alfred’s table beside the window. The American blond looked up and gave a quick, approving nod.

“Alfred,” he said in return, not really knowing what to add.

“Pleased to meet you,” Arthur mumbled as he brought the cup of steaming tea to his lips, only to sip gracefully and carefully at the hot liquid. Who knew drinking tea could be this mesmerizing?

“I saw you play,” Alfred suddenly blurted out, trying to break the awkward silence. It took a bit before the other replied.

“… I know.” Arthur’s big eyebrows seemed to ease up a bit, as if some strain was reduced.

“I didn’t hear you play, though, as it was too far away.” The American boy noticed too later how disappointed he sounded, and the words had already passed his lips before he got to fix his mistake.

The other smirked and let out a deep, silent chuckle.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “I will play again after this cup of tea. Feel free to come watch.”

Alfred had eagerly agreed to the offer and had soon found himself sitting next to the man on the street, listening on and on until the day ended. The day after he was there too, such as the day after that, and he had still been there even as a record company had showed interest in Arthur’s skills. And even after struggles and fame he’d still been there, with Arthur.

With his boyfriend.