Oh and bear with me here, I’m trying to write a French accent this time.
h-> ‘ (feedback on this would be great, is it too hard to read?)
“Bloody frog!” Arthur hollered at the blond fellow that seemed to be diving for treasure in some bimbo’s mouth.
Breaking away with a glare, Francis looked up at the punk. “What is it? Can you not see I’m busy ‘ere?”
“Whatever, slime, I need to chat.” he said, grabbing the fancy blue dress shirt’s collar and dragging him away from the girl who didn’t really seem to care much that she’d lost her friend.
Francis frantically followed Arthur, as though he was a small child being held by the ear. When Arthur finally slowed and Francis caught his breath, Francis smacked the Brit’s hand away from his clothes, “‘Ey, zhis is an expensive shirt, you black sheep!”
“And I don’t give a shit, frog.” Arthur spat, adorned in his usual tattered attire, which admittedly clung to him in all the right places. “I have something to ask you.” he said, looking down, almost ashamed.
Frowning, Francis looked over the punk he had a love hate relationship with. With a lot more hate, to be fair. “What is it?” he asked, trying to sound gentle and lose the hostility.
“Ah... there’s this girl.” Arthur started. He couldn’t get you off his mind, and just wanted to do something about it. The two of you had been dating for a while, but he still couldn’t tell how you felt about him. “We’ve been together about two months.” he conceded to the Frenchman.
Francis frowned. Since Arthur had become a punk, Francis hadn’t seen him with the same girl more than twice. He inquired, “‘Aving trouble breaking up?”
“Not really. Well, I don’t want to break up with her. I-I just don’t know what to do about this.” Arthur scratched the back of his neck, looking over the crowd.
Smiling, Francis asked, “Zhen what is the problem? You obviously care for ‘er.”
“I don’t know if she feels the same. I don’t know if I should stay and get hurt later, or leave and be hurt now.” Arthur frowned at the smug looking blond.
Francis looked elated. Arthur had never come to him for help before, and he was just eating up every second of this. All of a sudden, an arm was slung around Arthur’s shoulders and he was prodded in the side. “Mi amigo, that sounds like quite a problem.” Antonio said.
Arthur threw the arm off his shoulders, and slapped the hand of albino, now poking him, “Hey! Ve’re just trying to help, crazy punk.” Gilbert said, cradling his hand like his newborn child.
“And I’ve decided against this.” Arthur said, trying to leave. Francis and Toni grabbed both his shoulders and slammed him back against the wall of the club. Arthur could have taken any of them easily, but he wasn’t quite sure about all three of them. He was willing to try, however, and spat in the Frenchman’s face. “What the fuck is this about, Frenchie?”
“Calm down, Artie.” Francis said, safely away from him and using a nickname that had gotten rid of at least ten girlfriends. “We’re just going to ‘elp you, whezher you want it or not. Because you obviously need it.”
Arthur sighed, accepting defeat, and whatever these crazy bastards had in store. A grin spread over the German (Prussia: *slap* How could you!?!? Me: Damn, I was on a roll! Fine, fine...)
“But I’m horrible at that kind of thing. She could probably just talk her way out of it.” Arthur said, almost hanging his head at the horridness of this all, and not even notice the rather humiliating position he was in.
Francis thought about that for a moment, then said, “Well, ‘ow should you ask her? It ‘as to be somezhing special, for she must be a special girl.”
Arthur had dragged you off to a club you had never been in before, then ditched you. It was weird there were a lot of your friends here, and yet a distinct lack of three party crashers that you always seemed to run into everywhere. And you hadn’t seen that Jones guy that always seemed to rub Arthur the wrong way. Or his brother. Did he even have a brother? You shrugged, and just tried looking around for Arthur.
Your punk boyfriend Arthur was the best. He was gorgeous, sexy as hell, that accent could probably kill you, he had a killer sense of style, and could be rather sweet when he wanted to. But you didn’t know that he could sing.
In fact, you almost squealed with joy when you saw him sling that old union jack decorated guitar you thought was for show over his shoulder and played the first few chords of a song you know all too well. Jones and his half brother, or whatever, were behind him. Jones had a guitar, and the Williams kid had a bass. Allistor, Arthur’s brother, was on another guitar. And the guy on drums looked like some band geek they pulled out of school. He had purple eyes, a way too fancy outfit, and brown hair with a weird little curl in it. But your eyes were only on the blond in the middle of it all.
~ Follow this link in another tab please, it will add to the effect. ^^ www.youtube.com/watch?v=GqH21L…
“Wooo!” Arthur said loudly into the mic, with a chorus of cheers erupting behind it.
And then he started to sing, straight to you, “Darlin' you got to let me know,”
“Should I stay or should I go?” he sang, making a grin spread across your face.
Looking at you, very seriously, he continued, “If you say that you are mine, I'll be here 'til the end of time.” But the music started to eat at him, and he began to sway his hips.
“So you got to let me know, Should I stay or should I go?” he almost asked you. You wondered why he was doing all this. Did he really care that much about your relationship? Arthur pranced around the stage, letting Alfred, that Jones boy, take over the lead guitar and focused on singing.
“It's always tease tease tease. You're happy when I'm on my knees.” he sang, dropping to his knees on the stage, and looking at you with a pout.
“One day is fine and next is black.” People had started to stand up and dance around, yet you stayed, immobilized.
“So if you want me off your back, Well come on an' let me know, Should I Stay or should I go?” he kept walking, until he was right at the edge of the platform.
“Should I stay or should I go now?” and with that he hopped off the stage.
Arthur was making his way over to you, “Should I stay or should I go now?”
“If I go there will be trouble.” he was a table away, and only getting closer.
Your heart was pounding, and he finally got to your seat. “An' if I stay it will be double, So come on and let me know.”
“This indecision's buggin' me” he almost whispered to you, sending chills down your spine. Until a certain few decided to ruin the moment.
Then the Bad Touch Trio, or something, popped up out of no where, calling out from different corners of the room, “Indecisión me molesta!”
“If you don't want me, set me free,” Arthur sang out with a grin.
The trio backed him up, moving closer to where the two of you stayed, effectively cracking you up with their ridiculous dance moves, “Si no me quieres, librame!”
“Exactly whom I'm supposed to be,” he sang, unaware of the ever encroaching bunch.
“Dime!” they yelled, announcing their presence and making Arthur jump, “¿Qué tengo ser?”
Ignoring them, green eyes staring deeply into your (e/c) ones, Arthur sang, “Don't you know which clothes even fit me?”
“¿Sabes que ropa me quedar?” Francis called out in a trill, messing with your boyfriend’s hair.
“Come on and let me know,” Arthur said, despite seething and pushing Francis back into the crowd.
“Pero tienes que decir.” Antonio muttered into his mike, as Francis landed on him.
“Should I cool it or should I blow?” Arthur asked you, a look on his face that made you blush.
Gilbert had retrieved the other two singers and they were back surrounding you “¿Me debo ir o quedarme?” Then the trio started screaming out and ran up to Arthur, messing with him and making you laugh even more.
However Arthur was sick of it, and said, “Split!” He tried to push the drunken men off of him, but they just kept laughing.
Antonio sang out loudly, “Doble! ¿Me frío o lo soplo?”
As if in response Francis called out, “Esperda!”
And of course, Gilbert felt left out and started to cackle, screaming, “Rrattarrattarrattaa!”
“Should I stay or should I go now?” Arthur started to holler, really getting into it.
The trio seemed a little more in control, but that might have been the excited girls in the crowd, holding them back as they chanted, “Yo! ¿Me frío o lo soplo?”
“Should I stay or should I go now?” The band was really starting to rock out, with the band geek kid with the curl whaling on the drums. The bassist had snuck over and turned his amp way up, and now you could hear that ever elusive line of notes that was truly infectious.
The trio was just getting into the rhythm of things, and everyone seemed to embrace the punk spirit, going positively crazy, “Yo! ¿Me frío o lo soplo?”
“If I go there will be trouble.” Arthur offered you a hand, and you stood up with him.
You started to dance with him, a little smirk playing on your face. “Si me voy, va a haber peligro.”
“And if I stay it will be double.” Still holding your hand, Arthur spun you around for him, then curled you into a tight embrace.
The bunch of boys were getting hassled by the crowd, but still called out, “Si me quedo, es doble.”
“So you gotta let me know,” Arthur said, right into your ear.
“Pero que tienes que decir.”
“Should I cool it or should I blow?”
“¿Me frío o lo soplo?” was heard out somewhere in the wild crowd.
But you grabbed the mike, singing out with as much vigor as you could manage, “Should I stay or should I go now?”
A wave of cheers rang out for the new singer, and the trio shadowed back your words as well, “¿Me frío o lo soplo?”
“If I go there will be trouble.” Now both you and Arthur sang into the same microphone, getting really close to each other.
“Si me voy, va a haber peligro.” the bunch called out their approval of your proximity, making you blush.
Arthur smiled at you warmly, “And if I stay there will be double.”
“Si me quedo, es doble.”
He took over for you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and looking straight into your eyes, “So you gotta let me know,”
“Pero que tienes que decir.”
“Should I stay or should I go?” he asked very seriously.
Amidst all the cheers and screams for an encore, you wrapped your arms around him tightly. Kissing him only sent up another bout of cheering, but you broke away and said in his ear, “Stay.”