Punk Music and Cupcakes (Oliver X Arthur)

Ch. 2 • The "Second Players"

As intimidating as the moment was, the tension couldn't stop Arthur from making a confused, if not slightly disbelieving expression. He swallowed, able to feel Oliver's first fingertip move along with it. The dangerous glint still showing against the pink flecked amongst the blue of his eyes.

Just as the threatened blond was about to stammer whatever remark he was trying to form, a high whistle sounded from the kitchen. It caught Oliver's attention, who brightened visibly, back to his cheery first impression. "Oh! That's the water!" He dropped his hand, grabbing one of Arthur's, who tensed. The freckled male didn't seem to notice as he dragged him back to the area, forcing him to sit with the command of finishing the now cool cupcake he had made while he went to fix his tea.

Arthur wasn't sure what to feel. Anger, fear, confusion, shock? They all seemed irrelevant to him now. It was like a mix of the four. Who was Allen? Why was he with Alfred? Is Alfred okay? What in the world is a "second player"?!

"Arthur, don't scowl like that, you'll get wrinkles." Oliver placed the steaming cup of the dark liquid on the table by Arthur, as softly as he had with his phone. It was odd how he could be so graceful yet so absolutely terrifying when he wanted to be.

Suddenly flinching back at a touch to his forehead, Arthur slapped away Oliver's hand. The man recoiled in shock at the action, holding his hand to his chest defensively. This time Arthur did not fall for the look of hurt that showed. There must be something terribly wrong with this guy.

That has to be it. Breaking through someone's house through a window, hovering over him in his sleep, acting as though everything was perfectly normal. Then seemingly flipping a switch the next second and acting like one wrong sound could mean his last, before suddenly back to the previous attitude? Either Oliver was insane, bipolar, or both. Arthur could honestly say he didn't want to take the time to find out.

Sending a glare up at said madman, Arthur leaned back in his chair, keeping as far away as possible. Oliver chewed his lip, sitting slowly in the chair across from him. It all made Arthur want to scream. Why was Oliver acting like he was the bad guy?

"...What are you?"

Oliver blinked, tilting his head a notch. He was physically a look of innocence, but Arthur was certain that he was anything but.

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't." Arthur growled, his hands curling into fists on his lap. Oliver winced a little at the tone, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He then straightened once more, taking a deep breath. Arthur noticed with slight curiosity that his eyes were back to a pure blue. His head was beginning to hurt.

"Second player. We all are. Well, people like me, and Allen. Let's see, um..." Oliver fidgeted where he sat, seemingly thinking over his words. Arthur leaned forward in earnest to hear the explanation. He didn't really expect to get one.

"I'm you, just the opposite."

Now Arthur was lost. It must have been apparent, because Oliver giggled and sat straighter again, crossing his legs. "Don't you get it?" He used a hand to gesture between them purposefully. That part clicked: they look so alike. Only a few differences other than hair and eye colour. Oliver had more of a feminine figure.

Raising an eyebrow, Arthur took a testing sip of his still hot tea, to the satisfaction of the man across from him. He scowled and put the drink back down, making Oliver hum.

"I can't explain it. I'm not even sure how I know about it and you do not. Qualities of being opposite, I suppose." Oliver shrugged halfheartedly. Then, he snapped his fingers, as if suddenly realizing something. "Oh! Also, we're all quite crazy." He had a lopsided grin now, like what he said was completely common. Arthur only stared at him. "I gathered that much. But, what exactly do you mean?"