I have a current obsession with songs with feels and I came up with this.
I don't own anything.
It was the same thing; the same damn thing. Every. Single. Fucking. Day. Everything he tried to do for Arthur, it was somehow always wrong. Alfred lay down in his bed with his new electric guitar Arthur had gotten him for his birthday a few months back. He played a few chords, a frown that he thought was now permanent set on his face. He played a song he'd written for the Brit when they first got together. He grip tightened on the neck of the guitar, stopping what small sound came from the instrument. Releasing his grip, he plucked the strings, adding roof tops to certain notes and passages, changing the sweet love song into something with more feeling.
There was nothing he could do to make Arthur happy; nothing at all. All he ended up doing was pissing him off even more. How could he explain how he felt when Arthur wouldn't even look in his direction? He sighed and hooked his guitar up to his amp. He plucked a string, adjusting the volume so he wouldn't interrupt Arthur's afternoon tea (he always got grumpy when it wasn't peaceful in the house when he drank his tea). He tuned his guitar, and he began to play his new favorite song: Not Meant to Be. He closed his eyes, picturing the lyrics in his head and began to sing.
Arthur buried his face in his hands. When did everything become so….messed up? It used to be fun and games, love and romance. Now, it's nothing but constant arguing and yelling; the American always trying to make it better, but always ending up making worse. He propped his feet up on the coffee table beside his rapidly cooling cup of tea. The house was absolutely silent. Oh, that's right. It was time for his afternoon tea, but he didn't want it today. He wanted so badly for him and his lover to make up.
Of course, that was impossible. Everything would just go wrong and they'd be right back where they are now. He glanced at his prized electric guitar on its stand. He sighed and stood, retrieving it and returning to the couch he had been sitting on for the past hour and a half. How could he show Alfred how he felt if he was afraid of everything going so wrong? He plucked the strings, wincing at how out of tune it was. He hadn't picked his guitar up in years, so he was probably a bit rusty. He tuned it, humming as he played chords and complex rhythms he didn't think he could play anymore. He settled on playing one of Alfred's favorite songs by Creed. He sang along. There was no way he could forget the lyrics as much as the American used to sing the song.
Alfred sighed, setting his guitar on its stand. He had to give it one more shot. He had to make up with Arthur. One more sad song and he'd burst into tears. He got up out of his bed and headed down stairs to the living room. That was where Arthur always drank his afternoon tea. He hopped down the stairs two at a time. He paused when he heard the small sound of Arthur's old guitar. He sat down on the second to the last step at the bottom, listening. It had been awhile since Arthur had played a guitar, and it clearly showed when he couldn't play a simple thirty-second note run (A/N: A 32nd note run is actually really hard to do. I refer to it as simple because he could once do it, but it's been awhile so it's a bit harder). After a couple tries he finally managed to nail the run, he was playing like he used to.
"What was that Papa Roach song that stupid git loved so much?" Arthur asked himself. "How did it go?" He toyed around with notes and rhythms until he got it. He plugged it into the amp and started to sing along with it.
Alfred gasped when he realized what song he was singing. He smiled and stood up. He grabbed his all-time favorite guitar of the wall: Peavey Electric Guitar with The Incredible Hulk stickers on it. He already knew it was in tune since he played earlier in the day. He sat on the couch beside Arthur and hooked the guitar into the amp, playing as counter melody and singing along with Arthur.
The house fell into silence, neither man speaking after finishing the song. It was an awkward silence. They stared at each other for a while until the American looked down.
"Arthur. I'm sorry. I know I can't do anything right and I always make things worse when I try to make them better. I…I do it with the best intentions though. I'm sorry I can't be perfect for you."
Arthur chuckled softly and shook his head. "You stupid git…." He pulled him into a hug, kissing him softly. "You always do the stupidest shit for love."
So from that day on, everything returned to normal. Both men were now happy being with each other all over again. Alfred played Arthur's song for him more often, more specifically around his afternoon tea time. They fussed and cursed at each other still, but it was nothing like it was before.