Hey everybody! The overnight response to this has been fantastic, thank you so much all of you! I really enjoyed hearing about some of your concert experiences as well, and I think we can all relate to that fanatic obsession that comes with seeing our favourite artists! I hope you all continue to enjoy this story. ^^ One thing to clarify - there is no age gap between Alfred and Arthur in this story because I feel like it would throw off the dynamic somewhat, so aside from the three month or so difference, they are both around eighteen.

Once again, I do not own 'I've Got What It Takes' by Alex Day. The official video can be seen here ( watch?v=YQsMkNlLMUw) and the song can be purchased on iTunes! ^^

As always, please read and review if you have the time! Love Lucy xxx

Acapella

Chapter 2 - I've Got What It Takes

There are so many souls who don't follow their dreams,

Ignoring their passions makes no sense to me,

I could lie or waste time to follow the seasons,

But I think I'd regret it when I fall asleep…

Arthur led the way up the path to the front door of his house. Well, his floor of the house. Upon deciding on a private sixth form in London, fairly far away from his home in Surrey, he believed it would be more sensible to find his own place to stay for at least the next year or two. He guessed that he would be lucky to find even a room in the bustling city but was pleasantly surprised, landing an entire floor of a converted house near the school.

He had a kind landlady, who occupied the top floor, and had decided to rent her house out following the death of her husband three years ago. She was kind to him and he was respectful to her and so their relationship was one built on mutual trust, with no arguments under that roof. Well, aside from those between Arthur and his current "guest".

Francis Bonnefoy was one of his oldest friends, and the bane of his life. Having originally struck up a friendship with Arthur's older brother Scott, when the latter became irritated by him, he gleaned to shift the source of his anger onto his younger sibling. It had happened all throughout their childhood - a broken iPod, a badly behaved dog, and now Francis, who was worse than any of the above. When the Frenchman got kicked out of the community dorms, Arthur found himself with a new roommate… Who appeared to never be leaving.

Arthur reached into his pocket and swore loudly when he found that he didn't have his keys. "Great." he turned to Kiku grumpily, "Now we have to engage in conversation with weird beard." He still wore a smile, giddy from the film just hours ago. He knocked loudly, "Francis! It's Arthur!"

Footsteps could be heard and then the door unlocked. "Oh Arthur, such a shame it is you. I was quite hoping that it would be the lovely Joan back from Asda…" He wore a pout.

"She's sixty five, you pervert."

"But you must admit, she's very spritely."

Arthur scowled and moved past him, encouraging Kiku in who gave a weak smile to Francis.

"That must have been some movie."

"What?"

"Well, it's been-" Francis glanced down at the phone in his hand, "At least two minutes and you've insulted me but once. How was Mr Jones?"

Arthur couldn't hold back his smile then, "Extraordinary." He stated passionately.

"Wow… Going to go up the shrine, then?"

"Shut up Francis." He glared at him again, "Never forget you're just a guest here. I want you out by Christmas!" He ranted, stomping off to his room, followed by the Japanese man.

"You said that last year!" Francis called after him.

"Shut up Francis!" he repeated.

I don't have superpowers, there's no magic spell,

But I remain faithful for things to go well,

I'm not looking for miracles, at least for today,

I know I've got what it takes…

Alfred F. Jones placed his microphone back onto the stand, exchanging fist-pounds and high-fives with the musicians behind him, before jumping off the worn black stage towards his manager who beamed at him from the seating.

"Hey." he greeted her, panting a little, still out of breath from performing.

"Alfred~! Honey-baby-sweetie, that was amazing~!"

"But-?" he smiled awkwardly. Whenever Elizabeta began stacking terms of endearment, he knew that there was no happy ending to follow.

"How'd you know?" she grimaced, not waiting for the reply, "Well, we may have to stay in England a little longer than planned…"

Alfred laughed, relieved. "Dude, don't worry about that! England's pretty cool, and it would be good to have a little more time off… I will be getting time off, right?"

A smile played around her lips, "I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement."

"Awesome! I love ya Lizzie!"

"And I love you!" She wrapped an arm around his neck, very near strangling him, but he didn't notice as he was so busy doing the same back. They walked through the backstage passages and into his dressing room, making meaningless conversation about whatever came to mind, before she suddenly said "Actually, I do have something important to talk to you about."

"Uh-oh."

"Oh shut up you, this is important!"

He pulled out a chair and sat down with his arms folded under his chin on the top of its back. She ignored how much she wished he could sit forward-facing on chairs like anybody normal and took a seat on the couch, switching quickly from 'big-sister' to 'harsh-manager' mode.

"Bachelorettes."

"What?"

"Come on, you know what I mean."

He looked blank, "No I literally have no idea what that word means."

She sighed disparagingly. "Look honey, you've been single… Well, forever. And you're not a kid any more. I think it's time."

"So I can date?" Alfred still appeared to be fairly confused but intrigued, as if now that he grasped the point, he'd become confused as to where she was going with it.

She raised one eyebrow suggestively, winking, "More than that - you can date other celebrities. And I have just the candidate." Elizabeta reached into her purse, pulling out a file that had a glossy headshot taped to the front.

He recognised the face instantly. "Lili Zwingli?"

She nodded, seeing his disappointment. "Oh come on Al, she's gorgeous. Such a cutie, and she's real sweet. And that manager of hers is a fox…"

"That's her brother. And I'm pretty sure there's some incest going on there somewhere."

"Alfred!" She tried scolding him but giggled in spite of herself, "Well, they do look pretty cozy in the photos I suppose…"

"Seriously though," he continued, "We're nothing alike. I just can't see us getting along… And besides-" He stopped awkwardly, deciding not to finish the sentence.

And it's hard when you start and it's never at ease

The stars are so far but they'll always be seen

I can't pretend I just make things for no rhyme or reason

But boy the works worth it when I fall asleep…

He scratched the nape of his neck thoughtfully, deciding he needed to do something fast. "Uhhh, Liz?"

The woman across from him had begun rifling through her bag again, pulling out more files with faces that left his mind as quickly as they ran through it. She looked up, hearing him talk. "Yeah?" Seeing her kind expression gave him more confidence.

"Got any… guys in that pile?"

"Oh…" She looked touched, "Alfred, sweetie. That's so thoughtful of you. But honestly, you don't need to 'come out'," She gestured inverted commas with her hands, "just to increase publicity. You're doing amazing already. Let me worry about the press, okay? What's a manager for, huh?"

She just didn't get it. He sighed resignedly, faking a laugh. "Yeah, you're the best."

"Now come on, have a look through these…"

I don't have superpowers, there's no magic spell,

But I remain faithful for things to go well,

I'm not looking for miracles, at least for today,

I know I've got what it takes…

Arthur opened his bedroom door, striding through pronouncedly. It always took a few moments for Kiku to adjust to Arthur's room before he could comfortably walk through. The floor was a cornflower blue carpet, perfectly matched to a paler blue paint on the walls. It seemed like the kind of décor that would naturally be in the house and this didn't bother him at all. No, it was more Arthur's personal touches that terrified him. And his personal touches were many…

Lining every wall were dozens of pictures of Alfred F. Jones. The boy was completely obsessed - fan art, magazine clippings, official photographs, several possibly genuine autographed pictures bought online, and a vast oil painting that Arthur had commissioned from an Art student who was a mutual friend, under the premise that it was for his sister… The sister he didn't actually have.

After his eyes adjusted to the amount of copies of one face in that room, Kiku was able to enter and sat down on the end of the bed as Arthur paced the room thoughtfully.

"Okay. Now to planning."

"Planning?" he questioned worriedly.

Arthur clutched his iPhone in his palm and scrolled through pages, reading quickly and fixedly. "Okay, it says here that Alfred is playing at the Carlton Woodcroft Lodge, which of course makes perfect sense."

Kiku nodded by way of response. The Carlton Woodcroft Lodge was among the most famous venues in London. From its original commission in the 1700s, it had been a theatre, and also a source of lodging for its performers with the entire upper floor as a makeshift inn. Actors would flock there, begging for roles because a job at the Woodcroft Lodge meant you were made for at least a few years - food, clothes and housing was provided for what was essentially an easy gig. When the Woodcroft became a victim of unexplained arson during the summer of 1998, the Carlton media empire bought up the lot, reconstructing a building there befitting of the Woodcroft's glory. They later took down a few buildings surrounding it, expanding until the new Carlton Woodcroft Lodge was the place to play. However, it remained exclusive and highly selective - if anyone was playing in the Carlton Woodcroft, they were a somebody. It did indeed make perfect sense that that would be where Alfred ended up, rather than the mainstream O2 Arena nearby.

"Now that we know the venue… How do we get in?"

He gulped, "We?"

"You're not coming?" He actually looked crushed for a moment to the point where his friend wanted to reconsider but he knew that he ought to stand tall.

"Arthur, I do not even enjoy the music-" He regretted his words instantly as the most frightening look he had ever seen became directed towards him.

"Fine." he replied lowly, "I'll go by myself. But I will go, Kiku." He glanced up at one of the posters - celebrating the official release of a new single - "'I've Got What It Takes' after all."

There's no end in sight,

So I'll take my time,

Crossing the line,

I'll keep holding on,

I'll keep singing this song…

I know I've got what it takes…

I know I've got what it takes…