His afternoons were mostly spent staring out the window in a dazed mindset. Business was slow on Sunday afternoons, he wasn't quite sure why, but they were. Alfred's usually chatty self was reduced to a recluse, watching wistfully through the dirty glass the wind kicking the fall leaves. They scraped against the sidewalk outside, and swirled around the lamp post. He was almost envious of them, almost.

The Tea, Bagels, and Coffee shop him and Arthur owned actually did decent in Albuquerque New Mexico. Arthur was skeptical of the idea, moving out to a dusty desert, far away from the city life they both used to relish in. But Alfred was so energetic and excited about the idea, that somehow he convinced his Foreign exchange high school friend to take a risk in starting the business. Alfred's twin brother lived out in Santa Fe, and got the idea when visiting his college dorm. It wasn't like the usually ignored state enchanted him, he just wanted a change. A huge change.

Originally Arthur suggested they make a Tea, Scones, and Coffee shop but Alfred shot down the idea right away. It took hours of convincing Arthur that bagels were a universal food, and that scones, quite frankly, weren't. Arthur's emerald eyes squinted in reluctance, but he finally agreed, although he still insisted on selling the damn things at the register. Few bought any. Some brave fools they were.

Francis, the baker next door purchased them just so he could mock Arthur's baking skills. He laughed in his haughty French accent, calling them stones instead of scones. Arthur for the most part tried to ignore Francis, although it was quite painful to watch. How his gigantic eyebrows twisted in anger, and his lips pushed out in a pucker. Just to spite the Frenchman, he would order a box of those Harry Potter chocolate frogs and leave them outside his shop door. If Alfred didn't know any better, he would mistake their bubbling feud for sexual tension. But ignored them both all the same.

He was too busy day dreaming to care, to busy leaving his practical life of becoming a forced lawyer behind. Too busy being bored with the Sunday slowness. On such days, from time to time, he would walk up the street and into the comic shop on the corner. The man who usually ran it was Japanese, and overly polite. Kiku became a good friend of Alfred's, and even sometimes played spy for Arthur when he wanted to know if Francis had any devious plans in stored for him. They enjoyed each other's company, Alfred's banter on different comic book heroes, and Kiku's retort about why Manga was superior to American comics.

Life, life was okay. And sometimes Alfred contemplated if okay ever fit his standards to the American dream. And sometimes when Alfred felt bold, wondered if there ever was such thing as an American dream. He would never share such thoughts with his British roommate however; he couldn't withstand the long arrogant rants about why England was so much better. He got an earful of that anytime he even dared to bring fast-food home.

But truly, if anyone really knew Alfred, they would know that he was still unsatisfied. That something exciting was missing from his all too quiet life that he needed action, adventure, and the shop just was not cutting it. He felt like bouncing off walls or tearing his hair out on days like this. If one thing Alfred F. Jones couldn't withstand, it was boredom. And that's why he almost envied the fall leaves being kicked by the wind, he wanted drift once again. Abandon dream after dream, in search of something that didn't even exist nor matter. And he hid his dull expression as much as he could from Arthur, who constantly worried about Alfred's inability to maintain one idea at a time. It was a year before the concept of owning a business with Arthur even surfaced, that Alfred suggested they join the circus. Arthur laughed it off, hoping the impulsive blue eyed boy was joking. And he was, mostly. But Alfred had ADHD, and it was hard to pin him down. Force him into some stuffy college that would only grow tedious as time went by. So Alfred merely prayed, and wished in his moments of inner musing for something interesting to happen. Little did Alfred know that his wish was going to be granted, and that, he would regret it for years to come.

The same old Sunday afternoon, which lazily stretched to evening, left him alone at Tea, Bagels, and Coffee. He watched as the desert sky turned to a pinkish orange, and glowed brilliantly on the other closed shops. He smiled a faint smirk, taking in the little beauty New Mexico had to offer him. However his smile faded as his eyes picked up a strange large man heading his way to the café, his hair platinum blond, and half his face hidden by a scarf. Alfred's eyes encouragingly, invited him in. He was so bored that the strange looking man was a welcome to his ho-hum life.

The man noticed Alfred's glance, and with violet eyes returned it as he entered the shop. He wore a long beige coat, and carried an art portfolio in the crook of his arm. He set the portfolio down onto a nearby table, and walked up to the register. Alfred was almost giddy, if not fully intimidated by the man's monstrous height. Despite such things however, he plastered on a face of profession, and stared at the man deep into his eyes.

"May I help you sir?" He spouted off in a coy tone, the determination in his cerulean blue eyes unwavering. The man smiled at Alfred, amused by his mannerisms, and then gawked at the menu for at least a minute.

"Da," He began as a gloved hand pointed at the menu. "Coffee, black." He then ordered. Alfred punched in some keys, and returned his gaze at the strange man.

"Is that all sir?" He questioned.

"Da, that is all." The man replied.

Alfred then gave him his coffee, and watched as the man settled where he left his art portfolio. He carefully pulled out a sketch book, and charcoal. Quietly, the man worked away on his creation, only taking occasional sips from his cup. Alfred observed him from afar, and tried to sneak peeks into whatever the man was drawing. He couldn't make it out from his angle however. Alfred felt like a creep for watching this man so closely, but couldn't contain his boredom any longer. He considered starting conversation with the stranger, asking him about his accent, his art, but he decided against it. If it was one thing customers hated, were intrusive employees. Or at least, that's what Arthur told him. Although Arthur viewed the shop as more of a place for solitude, for silence, like a library. Alfred loathed the comparison.

The man eventually picked up his things, and began to take leave. "Come back anytime!" Alfred called out as the man was halfway out the door. He smiled warmly, and waved at the stranger.

"I will." He mused. And so he ventured out into the darkness, and disappeared from Alfred's line of vision.

"I hope he didn't notice my staring." Alfred remarked to himself as he began to close up the café. Little did Alfred know, or could even begin to fathom, that as he shifted the window sign to: CLOSED, uninvited eyes were gazing up at him from afar. Eyes so desolate, so barren, that they complimented the dusty desert he set them upon. The burial ground for his precious birds.

AN: Why did I write this? I have no clue…It's pretty terrible, and I am pretty rusty at writing fanfictions. But after reading so many America and Russia Hetalia ones, and being disappointed from time to time, I decided to invest my time into writing opposed to reading. It's a little pretentious sounding, and pretty scattered but meh. If you want me to continue, review, otherwise I will just hoard this idea in my head.