Last chapter I said I was going to try and "plan ahead," so of course, I did nothing of the sort. My only excuse for not updating is being lazy. I just have the bad habit of starting stories and never finishing them, but I refused to let another one die on me. So I said "fuck planning" and kicked my butt in gear and just wrote whatever came. (Except I feel like I'm walking up the down escalators as far as progress goes.)

Chapter 6

Matthew nodded in understanding as the stout businessman in front of him continued pattering on in French, spouting one excuse after another, and the blonde was just about close to losing his patience. However, Matthew merely continued nodding until he could find a long enough break in the rant to once again explain, as slowly as possible, to the angry man that he was not here to shut down any factory. Matthew was just trying to explain to the man how the data he had gathered about the factory's air emissions were against city regulations, and he was here to discuss possible technological alternatives that would cut back on the amount of pollutants entering the air. Matthew nearly threw his hands up in the air in frustration when the man started off on another tangent about the costs of running a business and how all these "regulations" were just unnecessary laws the city had come up with in an effort to make his job difficult.

You're the one making my job difficult! Matthew wanted to scream, but he just kept smiling and nodding. It felt like an eternity of listening to utter bullshit before Matthew finally reached his limit and gave up, rudely cutting off the man and telling him he would be back on another day with a few different plans, and they would meet a compromise, or else, so help him, Matthew really was going to shut down his factory. (Matthew didn't have the position or power to do that on his own, but if the businessman already believed he could, he might as well use it to his advantage!)

Matthew stalked off to his car, opened the door, and climbed in. His head dropped onto his steering wheel, and his yell of frustration was drowned out by the sound of the car's horn. He wearily picked his head up a little so that his forehead was resting against the wheel instead of the horn – he didn't even bother straightening his glasses. Sometimes he really hated this part of his job. All he wanted to do was help – why couldn't people understand that?

Despite his little display in the car, Matthew still didn't feel relaxed, so he pulled out his phone from his pants pocket and opened up the website he had been frequenting for the past four days since Francis had first left that embarrassing comment on the German singer's blog.

That day, Matthew and Gilbert had spent nearly all afternoon replying back and forth through comments. The German was persistently flirtatious and a bit crude, yet oddly Matthew hadn't been put off by the behavior and instead he found himself laughing at the bold and absurd comments Gilbert would say. Even when had Matthew continued to reject his advances with snarky comments, Gilbert seemed to have an equally smart response for every one of Matthew's. When Gilbert had to disconnect in order to practice for his concert that day, Matthew had figured that would be the end of their exchanges. It had just been a fun, spur-of-the-moment kind of thing, he tried to tell himself – like going to a bar and flirting with an attractive stranger without any expectations (not that Matthew did that very often to begin with…)

But a little part of Matthew couldn't help but hope Gilbert was truly as persistent as he seemed to be. So later that same night just before he going to bed, Matthew was tempted him to check the blog one more time, just in case. He was surprised to see Gilbert had left a new text post asking for his phone number. Matthew couldn't believe it at first, and he was both flustered and confused as he wiped his glasses off to make sure he wasn't imagining things. Once he snapped out it, he quickly set about replying back – except he first had to create an account so that he could send the singer a private message explaining he didn't have an international phone plan.

He was a bit startled with how quickly he got a reply, and Matthew couldn't help but laugh at the response he got:

PrussianKnight5: shit man – do you know how many different phone numbers i got from people claiming they were "mattie" and how many creepers i ended up calling?!

PrussianKnight5: i'm pretty sure i'm going to have to change my number thanks to you!

PrussianKnight5: i hope you're ready to make it up to me ;)

It had only taken that one sleepless night pm-ing each other for Matthew to finally cut through the singer's flirting and find out that Gilbert was very much just as exuberant in anything else he said and did if his stories were anything to go by. The singer had a multitude of stories to share, and although Matthew enjoyed their conversations, he couldn't help but think about Francis's comment about how dull his life was… For three straight nights, Matthew had stayed up late pm-ing Gilbert, but last night, he hadn't received any notification from the singer.

In the back of his mind, he wondered if Gilbert had already gotten bored and forgotten about him, but Matthew quickly shook his head out of those pessimistic thoughts. He doesn't have to send a message every night, so just enjoy it while it lasts and quit overanalyzing everything, he chided himself as he scrolled through Gilbert's blog.

Matthew lifted his head up from the steering wheel as his interest was piqued by the larger than usual update that had been posted that morning. The first couple of posts were from the band's concert in Treviso, Italy with some photos of the crowd, a few more candid shots of his band members inside the tour bus and backstage, and a before and after photo of a donut display – along with a shot of a blonde man captured with a pastry halfway to his mouth (the infamous Alfred, Matthew had already learned).

The rest of the photos after that though, seemed to have been taken inside a restaurant – no, it looked more like someone's home – and there were two additional men present among the band members as they ate what appeared as an entire banquet of food. According to Gilbert's comments, they were the family members of the angry brunette in the band, Lovino. Matthew smiled and shook his head at Gilbert's selfie as he held up some Italian brand beer with a contemplative look and a caption that stated "not as awesome as German beer but it'll do."

I guess that's why he didn't have time to chat last night, Matthew sighed in relief. Then he shook his head again when he caught the direction his thoughts were headed towards. No. No expectations – remember that! He repeated the thought a few more times in his head before he nodded at himself in satisfaction.

Matthew stuffed his phone back in his pocket, turned on his car and buckled up. He gave a curt nod towards the elderly security guard by the gates as he drove past and began his short journey back into the city. Once he hit the heavier traffic of the inner city of Paris, he began planning what he had to do for the rest of his day. He glanced to the side at the folder of papers he had tossed to the passenger seat and immediately his previous bad mood reappeared as he remembered his delightful client that afternoon. He tried to estimate how many hours he would be staying in his office to work and was only further depressed at the thought of staying all day. It wasn't really necessary, but he wanted to finish this particular job sooner rather than later.

As he looked back up at the road, his eyes caught sight of a particular music shop, and as an idea flashed in his mind, he smiled and quickly looked for somewhere to park.

Little bells chimed as Matthew stepped inside the air-condition store and let the glass door swish close behind him. A man with dreadlocks, dressed in clothes many would consider too tropical for Paris, was reclining back in a chair behind the counter with an open magazine in his hands. When he looked up to see who had stepped inside, a smile spread across his face upon seeing Matthew's slouching figure.

"Hey, Matthew, it's good to see you friend," the man said cheerfully.

Matthew stepped further inside, observing all the new posters that had been taped on the wall since he'd last been here, before returning the smile. "Hey, Carlos. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"And whose fault is that?" the other man replied with a huff, crossing his burly arms over his chest.

Matthew winced guiltily. "Sorry, I-"

Carlos laughed and waved a dismissive hand at the blonde. "Aye, I was kidding. Go ahead and look around," he said, returning his attention to his magazine.

Matthew did just that, wandering to the pop section and mindlessly browsing through the large assortment of CDs there. He probably picked up five random CDs before placing them back before, eventually, curiosity pushed him towards the rock and metal section in the store. He quickly skimmed through the CDs until his fingers flicked past a CD that had the letters G.U.M. marked on the top with large black strokes. Matthew grinned victoriously as he pulled it out and checked out the front and back covers of it. It didn't have any pictures of the band, but he was sure this was it. Checking the listing of songs confirmed it for him when he saw some of the titles in German. He set it aside and continued rifling through the rest of the CDs with more determination. He found only one other which had in smaller letters, "Geben Uns Mehr," written underneath the larger acronym.

So that's what G.U.M. stands for, Matthew mused, though he still didn't know what it meant. He picked up his two CDs and made his way back to the register, setting them on top of the counter.

"You find what you were looking for?" Carlos asked as he set aside his magazine and stood up to check him out.

"Yeah," Matthew nodded.

Carlos raised an eyebrow when he picked up the one of the CDs Matthew had brought up. "Well that's different."

Matthew smiled sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders. "Just felt like a change?" he said with a nervous chuckle.

"So you went a full 180 from your girly pop music to folk metal?" Carlos questioned as he turned the CD over in his hand.

Matthew glared. "So says the guy who had a crush on Tal for the longest time."

"She's a queen and you know it," Carlos stated simply as he rang up the items. "…At least this is better than your Justin Bieber phase."

"Hey!" Matthew whined pathetically "You promised never to bring that up again."

"More like never going to let you live that down," Carlos laughed. He paused, observing the name on the CDs again for a second before he handed them over. "Didn't they play here a few days ago for The Viking's concert?"

"Oh, uh… yeah," Matthew said a little surprised his friend knew that.

The larger man nodded as he remembered a few customers who had come in asking for their CDs after that particular concert. "I hear they're getting pretty big."

"Really?" Matthew asked, unable to hide the curiosity in his voice. He didn't mean to sound as if he doubted Gilbert's talent, but until that day he had gotten mixed up with the German and started following his blog, Matthew had never even heard of the band.

Carlos nodded his head. "Yeah. I think I read an article about them some time back. There was a big fuss about them for a while after one of the members came out as gay, or some shit like that." He shrugged his shoulders indifferently, in a what-can-you-do-about-it kind of fashion. "You know how the media eats stuff like that right up."

"Oh," Mattie let out in a whisper. This was all news to the blonde. Even when he had tried to look up the band that one day, most sites he had found had been in German or had very general information in English. He figured that article Carlos was talking about had to be about Gilbert, seeing as how open the man had been about his sexual preferences. Matthew couldn't help but wonder what the singer must have been going through at the time, having the media hounding him about such personal matters. "Uh, where did you read that article?

Carlos didn't think much about his friend's curiosity, and he rifled through the ever present stack of music magazines he had on the counter. Matthew eyed the stack anxiously, curiosity growing with every magazine his friend inspected. "Here," Carlos finally pulled one out from the bottom. "You can keep it if you want," he said, handing it to the blonde.

"Thanks," Matthew said, unable to contain his eager smile. At that moment, the door bells chimed, and Carlos greeted the young teen that entered. Matthew looked at his watch, and his smiled weakened a bit as he sighed. "I still have to head back to the office, but I'll see you later."

"Alright, take care bud," Carlos said as he sat back down and returned to reading his latest magazine. Just as Matthew was opening the glass, Carlos remembered what he had promised those other customers and quickly called out to the blonde. "Hey! If by the next time you visit you haven't already started listening to country or something, I have a shipment coming in on Monday with some of their newer material if you're interested," he said, motioning to the CDs in Matthew's hand.

Matthew chuckled and thanked his friend again with a simple "we'll see" as his parting words.

Francis glared at the man across from him in the semi-empty room. He couldn't believe that uncouth blonde punk still had the nerve to return to the very café he had humiliated Francis in and act as if nothing! He was just reading a damn book, drinking his stupid tea as usual and dressed in that ugly excuse for a sweater-vest. Just looking at those enormous eyebrows was a disturbance to his afternoon coffee break as he remembered how they had furrowed in anger on the man's face just before he had attacked Francis.

What frustrated Francis off even more was the fact that the stupid little Englishman had ruined their perfect anonymous relationship of muse and writer! The selfish prick! Francis angrily scratched out the few words he had written on his notebook as he imagined the man's smug face. That English bastard had sucked up the last bits of Francis's inspiration like a leech and left the writer to suffer alone. Francis chewed on the tip of his pen as he continued to stare angrily at the other man.

Francis could no longer see a charming gentleman that would spend the afternoons immersed in his reading of great poets. He could no longer envision a man waiting for his lover at the park with a tender smile as cherry blossoms danced in the wind, nor could he imagine a husband resting in a cozy cottage, eager to accept a lover into his arms while he sat in the living room loveseat.

Now, the image Francis had shaped and molded in his head for the past months had been tainted and cracked. Instead, what he saw across the room was a sinister man, completely immersed in a horror novel, secretly enjoying the main character's torturous journey and routing for the antagonist, a man that would stalk down empty parks with the sound of dead leaves crunching beneath the soles of his shoes as he scared every annoying pigeon away with a flick of his eyebrows only to return to an empty apartment where he'd smoke cigarettes with an angry scowl while green eyes scoured the obituaries in the newspaper.

But maybe there was a lover who tried to change this hopeless situation.

Or loveless affair with a person who couldn't let go of what used to be.

Francis quit chewing on his pen as he continued to blatantly stare across at the oblivious man, and the cogs in his head began to turn. A struggling romance. A pretense. A habit. He called the waitress for a refill of coffee as he began putting words onto paper.

A few minutes later, Francis ran a hand through his long hair in frustration. The words were a bit harder to piece together, but it was an image he could work with. By the time his second cup of coffee got cold, Francis stuck his pen behind his ear and picked up his notebook to look at his work. He was more or less satisfied with what he had managed to jot down, and he already had a singer in mind who might want to work with him to get the rest of the song carved out. However, he just couldn't finish the song in this particular place. This new, harsh image of the Englishman just didn't fit in the café – and it disturbed Francis that he was allowing his mind project the peaceful shop as some place darker.

No – he was not going to dwell on that and allow that man to dampen his success. Francis picked up his notebook and pen and made for the exit, pulling out his phone as he did. He was too busy searching through his contacts for a certain agency's number to notice the pair of green eyes that followed him out the door.

Arthur Kirkland cursed at himself as the Frenchman stepped out of the café. He had missed his chance yet again to apologize the irritating man for that incident four days ago. After his anger had simmered down, Arthur had felt shame and embarrassment creep up on him for overreacting and knocking the poor man off his chair. It's not as if he hadn't heard worse offenses in his life, but there was something about the Frenchman's nonchalant, smug attitude that had irritated Arthur to no end – the way he had smiled, like the bastard knew he was bloody gorgeous. Arthur had wanted to do more than just kick him down.

Regardless, Arthur was man enough to admit his actions might have been a bit extreme. The next day he had returned, he had immediately apologized to the café's staff for the disruption, and he had had full intention of apologizing to the other man if they happened to cross paths again. That was until not a few minutes after Arthur had finished apologizing, said man also stepped inside and looked at Arthur with a look of utter repulsion. The man even had the nerve to ask for the owner of the café to have Arthur kicked right in front of his face.

Arthur kindly told the man to fuck off, before turning on his heel and making a point to march directly towards his usual seat and plop down with an angry huff. He tried to pretend ignorance as he pulled out a book from his satchel while the other man continued to discuss with the café's staff. After that, the thought of apologizing had immediately flown out the window. The only problem was that even when Arthur was trying to ignore the other man and continue with his day as usual, he could still feel an angry pair of eyes burning a hole in his direction, and there was a nagging little voice in the back of his head telling him if he didn't apologize, the other man would never let it go, and that would be the end of his peaceful afternoon breaks. There was just the problem of Arthur's pride refusing to cooperate.

Arthur sighed as he checked the time on his watch. It was about time he go, so he put his book away and left the money for the bill on the table. As he walked down the sidewalk, he noticed a large crowd gathered further down and across the street. As he got closer, he could hear the distinct sound of a pair of acoustic guitars playing, and as the crowd shifted he recognized the man in the center as the Spaniard that had been with the nameless Beardy. The people gathered were all watching with quiet amazement as the cheerful man let his fingers dance over his guitar strings, producing a lively, flamenco-like melody while the blonde female beside him tapped out a crazy rhythm against her guitar with an equally large smile on her face. The passion and talent the two had for music was practically palpable, and Arthur felt a sharp pang in his heart as he watched from the distance.

His hands clenched into tight fists unconsciously, and he swiftly walked away.

It's short - I know, but I really wanted to put something up before I fell into another rut again.

Unfortunately, thanks to my brilliant idea of putting half the main characters on a freaking tour across Europe, there's not gonna be a lot of person-to-person interactions for some of the pairings for a while. Tis but another example of me not planning ahead unfortunately…