#ukmano

Rain. Romano had grown a sudden hatred for it in the last few days. He scowled at the window. He wished he was at his home in warm Italy rather than too-much-rain London. The only upside he could think of his situation, was that it was all expense paid trip by the school for some of their "better" students. In other words, their favourites. It was to help them understand the cultural difference in places throughout the world. Although, the only thing Romano had learnt from all this was that Britain was rainy, cloudy and filled with a bunch of food he thought looked absolutely horrible.

A long and heavy sigh passed through Romano's lips as he moved from the window. He walked and tugged a raincoat from his suitcase. He better go and search for his brother now. Feliciano had went ahead without him to explore the city. 

An onslaught of rain welcomed him as soon as he was out the hotel door. He tugged up his hood, cursing Feliciano for taking their only umbrella. He was going to get soaked at this rate. He looked about and spotted a train station to duck into. He checked the signs. Feliciano had told him something yesterday about wanting to see York, but that was over a two hour ride. There was no way he was going to pay the fare for such a long trip.

More scowling. It was becoming a habit of him in London. He found his way from the station and to a small cafe. Perhap London's coffee was better than their weather. He ordered a caffè marocchino indirectly by ordering an espresso with a dash of hot milk and cacao powder. If he had ordered the beverage by simply calling it by its name, the barista would probably have no idea what he was talking about. If he did, Romano would give him a complimentary pat on the back.

He waited a while, and then tasted it. He made a small face. A bit too much milk, but it was not awful. He sipped on it while taking a glance out of the window. The rain looked to be lightening up. Hopefully by the time he was done with his espresso, it would only be damp outside. Then he could resume his search for his brother.

"This bloody fucking London weather. Do you mind if I sit here?" 

It took a while for Romano to take in that the man speaking was talking to him. He looked up from his cup and to a rather tall British man with thick brows. He stared speechless at the massive size of them before shaking his head. "No, go ahead." He minded a little, but he no reason to be rude. Yet.

The man sat down and ordered a cup of Earl Grey. After minutes of silence, the Briton took in that Romano was not one for sudden conversation. He mentally shrugged and let out a sigh, and unrolled a newspaper he had tucked under his arm. 

"I have to go now. Ciao," Romano announced once he was done with his espresso. He stood up, and gave his companion short wave before disappearing out the door. He had not even waited for the Briton's reply.

The streets of London has a lot to do for a visitor to the city like Romano despite his strong wish not to be there. He found himself stopping in various shops out of what was at first curiosity but grew to be actual interest as he tried on a pair of boots. They looked nice, vintage-styled, and they were a lot more water resitant than the ones he had on before. He paid for them and put them on. Well, at least he could tell Feliciano he actually came out here for something other than to check on him.

He walked outside once again. It was getting dark. Looking both ways on the street, he realised he had no idea how to get back to the hotel. Was it in the left direction or the right? Maybe he had to go straight? He took the left, but after walking for thirty minutes, he realised he should have went right. Curse his luck. He had went and gotten himself lost.

An unsure foot turnt around. The crowd may have lessened as evening drew to a close, but his confusion did not. He somehow ended up in a large park. He knew he could not be too far away. Something on the hotel's brochure said something about a park being close to it. "Hyda" or something of the sort.

Now that the rain had stopped, everything looked much nicer. Or maybe, he just could appreciate the city a lot more. He settled down on a bench and took in the trees and flowers. There were some young men playing an under-membered soccer game a few yards away. He watched not really interested, but his legs were tired. He did not want to stare at grey clouds or a tree, so the shabby sports game would have to do.

He was indifferent toward it until the black-and-white ball flew straight toward his head. He screeched shrilly in shock before falling from the bench. "Che minchia?!" he cursed angrily rubbing his head. He glared up to be assaulted by worried green eyes. He recognised those eyes and the brows that accompanied them. They were from this afternoon.

"My apologies. Alfred has no control of the football whatsoever," he said in his heavy British accent and holding out his hand. Romano was scowling, but he took it. His dark chestnut hair was now mussed and his curl a bit kinked. He straightened and dusted off his jacket. He looked down, and groaned seeing that there was dirt on his new shoes.

Romano plucked a grassblade from his shoulder. "It's fine. It's fine," he said noticing his hand was still grasping the other's. He tugged it away. "I needed to get up anyway." It was practically night now, and Feliciano had to be back at the Indigo by now. He reached in his pocket to check his phone, but only pulled out a handful of lint.

He stared at it with a scowl mixed with shock. Only he could have this much bad luck. He was hopelessly lost without a phone, and plus... It looked like more of that oh-so-beautiful rain. He cursed again, no longer able to hold his discontent inside. "Eyebrows," as Romano had nicknamed him, had went back to play with his friends.

He sat back down on the bench and sighed, putting his face in his hands. He always had to go and mess up something. He could not even find his way back to his own hotel. A hand on his shoulder snapped him out of his self-pity. He glanced up, and looked at Eyebrows a bit irritatedly. He was frustrated with himself and the situation, leading to his bitter attitude. "What do you want Eyebrows?" he said snipply clearly showing his distaste.

The man raised one of his brows a bit at the insulting nickname. "My name is Arthur Kirkland, not 'Eyebrows,' and yours, wanker?" The man, Arthur, had taken his hand from Romano's shoulder and now had it on his hip. He looked down at Romano with a bit of disdain and matching irritation. Here he was trying to be civil, and this young man was just going about calling him names. "Eyebrows" no less.

Romano flicked a hand in indifference to the insult. He had no idea what it meant, so he just discarded it. "My name is Romano - not that you need to fucking know. What do you want Mr. Arthur Kirkland?" He looked up boredly at the man. His eyes were a weird shade of green. Really dark but not a lot. Not to be cliche, but they were like tiny jade gemstones. If he was his brother, he could have seen they were a forest or Pakistan green, but he was not. Jade was the first thing that had came to his mind.

Those jade eyes were growing more and more surly at each word he spoke. "No reason to be so bloody rude Romano, but I thought you would need help," he said remembering that Romano had said he needed to go quite a while ago. "You don't look like you're from London, and you look lost."

Romano was silent. He stared at him with a scowl. It took Arthur turning to take his leave for him to speak. "Okay. I'm fucking lost. Do you know where Hotel Indigo is?"

Arthur stopped and turnt around to face him. "Yes I do. I'll show you there," he said offering his hand again only to get it slapped away.

"I can get up," Romano said standing up. His scowl aimed at the ground as they began to walk. He refused to look at Arthur. It was more out of embarrassment than anything. It was a strike at his pride to have to ask for help from a stranger. He should have found his way on his own, but knowing just how utterly turnt about he was, he did not want to take the chance. 

After nearly running into a lightpost, Romano looked forward. He was clumsy enough when he was paying attention. After a long excruciating walk (Romano was sure they had been walking for at least forty-four minutes), he spotted the lights of what appeared to be a large ferris wheel. "What's that?"

Arthur glance over at Romano before looking in the same direction. "That's the London Eye," he said. He looked back at Romano. The Italian was staring in a bit of what looked to be awe at the attraction. He had stopped walking, his eyes glistening with the lights of it. Arthur was used to the impressive site, so he was not as starstriken by it. The look in Romano's eyes was a different matter however.

He coughed into his hand to get himself together. What was he doing, gawking at this surly and rude young man? He wanted to keep going to what he knew was the way to the hotel, but the Eye was less a mile away... "Want to ride it?"

"Sticazzi! Really?!" Romano said looking at him with those eyes. The hazel ones that glittered with not only the lights but excitement. They shined with flecks of golden brown lost in green. They also lost Arthur in them, making him a bit hopeless in the situation.

He turnt his head forward hastily. "Well, yes. I happen to have an extra ticket, since the friend I had wanted to go with me had to leave earlier than planned..." There was a slight heat on his face, but Romano was busy staring back at the wheel.

He grabbed Arthur's wrist. "Well, what the fuck are you just standing there for? Let's go," he said dragging Arthur with him. He had forgotten completely how much he wanted to go home, just wanted to ride it. He wanted to sit in one of the seats and get lost in the sky.

The rest of the walk had went much faster than it would normally take to get there. Perhaps it was the way Romano seemed to move a bit faster when he was a bit motivated. He was back to looking indifferent by the time they actually got there, but his eyes still glittered when he stepped into the capsule. They were lucky to get on one without a lot of people, they had enough room to leave metres between them and the next passenger.

The ride started, Romano staring out the window as they climbed up, up, up. When they were really high up, Arthur looked over at Romano again to see him turnt around his seat. His hands were slightly pressed to the glass, and there was a slight upward turn of his lips now that he thought no one was looking. He looked over at Arthur, and the smile faded much to the Briton's disappointment.

"Whatever happened to that friend of yours?" he asked sitting back down beside him. He had directed his eyes to Arthur and spoke his question trying to voice to Arthur just how much he did not care. He might have cared, but only a little, and only because that friend had missed something really amazing. At least, that is what he told himself.

Arthur's face fell at the mention of the friend, making Romano immediately regret asking. He had seen the mood change, no matter how much Arthur tried to hide it by looking out the window with his face turnt away from Romano. "It doesn't matter."

Romano scoffed loudly, bringing attention to them from one or two other passengers. "No offence, but I'm not a fucking stronzo," he stated with his head raised up defiantly. "I can tell when someone's upset, and you, Eyebrows, are upset."

One blink. Two. "I told you my name is Arthur," he said furrowing his brows after some silence, "and really. It doesn't matter. Not now anyway."

Romano scooted closer to him. Now his thigh was practically touching Arthur's, the heat of his skin felt despite the fabric barriers between them. He looked Arthur in the eye. "If it didn't matter you wouldn't be so sad over it Eyebrows," he said jabbing the Briton's cheek somewhat roughly. "Tell me."

He was answered with a long stretch of silence. Romano made a face except this one was a bit akin to an irritated pout. "Tell me," he said his face very serious and very, very close to Arthur's. His eyes bored into the Arhur's, making him forget to breathe for maybe the fracture of a second.

He let out a soft and hefty breath when he got his lungs to catch up with his mind. He pushed Romano away from him. "I don't see why you'd want to bloody know unless you fucking care, surly brat." Two could play at this nickname thing.

Romano's expression became intensely irritated. Not only had Arthur shoved him, but then he had went and called him a "brat." Now that, that was something Romano undrstood, and it was not something he liked to be called. "Fine. Don't tell me bastard," he said with a loud condescending sound directed at Arthur. He crossed his arms. He did not have to talk to someone who did not want to speak to him.

He stopped looking at Arthur and resumed his window staring. He really did like the stars. The sky hanging outside reminded him of sitting beneath the sky from his balcony at his home. If he pressed his imagination hard enough, he was sitting right in the stars, in bright shining lights, in a place where he did not forget little things like his phone on a bed or lose things like his way from home.

Arthur looked with him, but did not see the same thing. He simply saw stars. Millions and millions of shining orbs of fire in his vision. He offhandedly said a quote he remembered from a play back at the theatre, "Doubt that the stars are fire, doubt that the sun doth move, doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love."

Romano turnt at the sound of his voice. Arthur had once again managed to snatch away his attention. "What's that?" he asked with a slight tilt of his head. It was amazing how he could say everything with a frown, a true talent indeed. Arthur, although, missed that small secret smile.

"Hamlet," he said smiling. He hoped Romano had forgotten the question from earlier. "Have you ever seen it?"

A small shake of Romano's head was his answer. "That's Shakespeare right? Not a huge fan of the way he talks, but his plots aren't shit," he said. "Plus, theatres here are crowded when I go in." He scowled. Arthur betted if Romano got paid for how much disdain he showed everyone around him, he would be the richest young man in the world.

Arthur frowned with him, and made a determined resolve. He would make Romano smile by the end of this trip. He was not sure why he wanted to do this so badly. He tried to find the reason, but it just could not find it. "Do you like any other plays?"

Romano raised his head in thought. "Sophocles," he said suddenly. "Greek tragedies." 

Now that made Arthur laugh a bit. "You can understand Ancient Greek better than Early Modern English?"

Romano made a face at him, sticking out his tongue in a childish manner. He raised his head up and scowled at Arthur. "I'll have you know bastard, I am studying Greek Literature back at the college. ... Testa de cazzo." The ending vulgarty was just added for extra measure.

That made Arthur raise a brow. The idea of Romano being in school had never crossed his mind. It would explain why Romano was here in London. He ignored the insults and the way the words were said, and went on attempting conversation. "So that's why you're in England... Are you enjoying the city?"

"Of course not!" Romano said waving his hands and once more bringing attention to them. "There's too much fucking rain! I don't want to try any of the food! And there's... There's..." He stuttered running out of things to say bad about the city. "There's other shit!" he huffed.

A small chuckle passed Arthur's lips. "Okay then. You could always just stay inside."

His words were answered with an angry glare. "That's boring. I like gardens, outdoors, trees!" he said gesturing about. "My garden back home (it's a vegetable garden), stretches across the entire backyard." Then Romano went into rant, unstoppable as he described how magnificient his garden was back at his grandfather's farm. He told Arthur he grew it with his brother, Feliciano, who was probably at the hotel worried about him because his brother worried too much. 

Arthur was surprised by the onslaught of information coloured with Romano's various vulgarities. To further his surprise, he began rambling himself. He made a few jokes (which he ended up having to explain from time to time), which usually resulted in Romano making a noise Arthur accepted as a laugh. They talked like this for the rest of the ride. Going from loud to quiet and loud again as they were shushed at least five or so times.

"We just step off while it's moving?" Romano asked as Arthur helped him off.

Arthur snorted. "Well, we stepped on while it was moving, but you might not have noticed that by how quickly you jumped in the ca-OW-r!" He grabbed at his side. "Bloody hell!"

Romano looked forehead as if nothing had happened, his elbow allready back where it belonged. Arthur glared at him, letting the other get away with it for the next few minutes. That was why, when they were passing through back through a bit of trees, Romano was unprepared for Arthur's fingers tickling up his sides. He struggled with them a bit before falling against a tree laughing and cursing.

He was gasping by the time Arthur released him. His hair was horribly dishevelled and worse than any case of bedhead. He reached up a hand to brush some of his bangs away from his eyes, but stopped when he saw Arthur's stare. He cleared his throat, hoping to break Arthur from whatever spell he was under. 

"Umn... Arthur...?" he said suddenly uneasy. "Can you... Arthur...?" He was just about to knock some sense into him with his hands, but then there was the kiss.

One hand dug nail marks into the bark, while the other fell limp against Arthur's chest in a forgotten resolve to fight. He stumbled back and slumped down against the tree, his and clutching against Arthur's shirt to pull him down with him. He did not care that he was getting his jeans a bit dirty, nor did he care that his jacket was tearing against the bark. He did not care about anything, think about anything. He only made sure to make the kiss last as long as possible with the pressing of the Briton's lips against his.

Laughter from a group of teenagets passing was what pulled them apart. Romano stared at Arhur in a look that could only be described as disbelief. His hand fell down and touched the grass they were sitting in. "You know, Arthur..." His words were stopped by sudden drenching rain.

"Fuck!" This time it was both of them cursing. They scrambled up in a frenzy of legs and limbs. Romano nearly fell in his rush, but Arthur managed to grab his hand in time to drag him back up. He was still holding onto Romano's hand as they began to run, Arthur in front and Romano yelling curses at the rain, at God who invented the rain, at some saints, and whoever else he could blame for his misfortune. 

Soon, he saw the well-lit entrance of the Hotel Indigo, and his brother standing outside with an umbrella. Romano cursed, stopping abruptly. "I can leave here!" he yelled above the rain.

Arthur yelled to ask him why, but then saw his brother at the door. Their resemblance was nearly uncanny, so it was a wonder he had not noticed before. He nodded and let go of his hand. For some reason, Romano was not walking back yet. "What?" he said stepping back close, so he would not have to yell like Romano had.

Words wrestled with Romano's tongue. He finally opened his mouth and yelled, despite their proximity, in a rush of syllables "If we meet again, I want to see your garden!"

He said it so fast and loud, Arthur could have went deaf. If not from that, then the mere shock of what he just heard. "What if we don't?" he asked dubiously.

Romano was backing up, but Arthur could still see him. "You've seen 'Romeo and Juliet,'" he shouted back. "Starcrossed! If this is real, then we're starcrossed!" Then like a flitting dream that just dropped from his fingers, Romano was running to his brother and yelling at him in what appeared to be irritation. He really was beginning to think it was a dream, but then Romano looked back at him and not-so-secretly smiled.

-

Arthur was up first thing in the morning. He had not had a very restful sleep. He ended up dreadfully tired and grouchy, his roommate asking in his horrible French accent whether he was on his monthly. He had growled at said roommate in response, called him a frog, and then went on grumbling about how there was no food in the "bloody blasted house" and no tea eithre. 

He slammed the door behind him before climbing atop his bicycle to ride to the grocery. He could snag an orange for breakfast and then head on to the spice store for some tea leaves. He was nearly there when he took a sharp turn. He no longer wanted an orange; he wanted a cinnamon crumb scone and a hot glass of papaya and citrus black tea. 

He parked in front of the cafe he went to every now and then. They had some of the best scones depending on who baked them. He was hoping Maddie was at the stoves today because her daughter Elizabeth was always going about making them too soft. Why if he wanted undercooked scones, he would bake them himself. 

He began to hum Tchaikovsky as he walked into the store. Not too many recognised the tune, but someone spoke up from behind some well-worn issue of Sophocle's "Odepidus Rex." "'Russian Dance'? And here I was thinking you would be humming something like 'The Nutcracker.'"

A smirk appeared from behind the novel accompanied with golden brown eyes that glittered with green. Then he placed the book down and just fullout smiled, a sight Arhur had been waiting on since the day before. In that moment, he learnt that it was a bit contagious because before long he was grinning like a git.