When had he lost control? Not of his eating habits, no, they were perfectly fine. But the young man that was standing in front of him, sucking on his soda and talking rapidly about this and that, when had he changed? Arthur nodded in time to Alfred’s rhythm, and felt a dull sense of memory, when he could still hold the child in his arms and kissed his sweet cheeks and they would fall asleep in the large bed together, arm still curled around him.
And now he was a golden young man, broad-shouldered and tall, with a lazy, warm grin, and contagious excitement. It was almost unfair how well he had grown up, and how much Arthur had stayed the same over the years. The hand of fate had decided that he was still in as much love as ever, except in a hurting, aching way. As Alfred lost interest in the conversation and, presumably, in Arthur, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of hurt.
Maybe he needed to be thinner, still-
“I remembered what I was going to ask you,” Alfred interrupted, interest swinging back to him in full force, an unfair pendulum. “There’s this new restaurant in town and I heard the food was good, but nobody else would go with me. I don’t want to see your stupid face for the whole dinner, but I thought it might be a good lesson on what good food is like.”
“Stupid prat-“ Arthur scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. “What sort of idiotic offer is that? My food is delicious!”
“It’s disgusting,” Alfred deadpanned. An almost curious look flitted on his face. “I’m glad you haven’t brought your disgusting scones to the meetings lately.” His expression, however, seemed more relieved than thoughtful.
“You miss them, don’t you?”
“Not at all.”
“Bastard-“ It didn’t matter, either way. Arthur had lost the will to bake his scones, despite their deliciousness, because it disgusted him. His hands trembled slightly at the repulsion of the thought.
“So, are you going?”
“With such an impudent offer?” Arthur knew the answer that was already budding at the tip of his tongue, but he lingered for a few moments to give an impression of hesitance. “I suppose I have a bit of free time tomorrow night.”
“You mean, you have nothing at all to do.”
“Idiot!” But despite himself, he felt a little warmth to be going out to dinner with Alfred. It wasn’t anything special or unusual, but the giddiness in his stomach surely couldn’t only be hunger.
--
Alfred looked handsome.
It was a formal restaurant, so Arthur was pleased that at the very least, the messy Alfred had worn a suit. But it was more than that. Texas was tucked in the front of his pockets so his bright blue eyes shimmered under the chandelier, and his warmly tanned skin reflected the moon in its brightness. When he grinned in his cocky manner, his white teeth flashed. And when he ran his fingers through his neatly-styled hair, even Nantucket had been obedient enough to be swept all the way back, a far cry from his natural hairstyle. His casual stance contrasted aesthetically against his crisp, black suit, which called attention to the broadness of his chest and the thickness of his wrists.
“Alfred,” he said.
“What do you want to eat?” Like always, Alfred was dismissive, and buried his nose into the menu as quickly as possible. “They don’t have burgers, but maybe they can make something into a burger.”
“Idiot, don’t turn the distinguished food into something so cheap.” He fiddled with the laminated menu for another moment. He shouldn’t have been so nervous, nor flush so deep a red. But his heart couldn’t help but beat a little faster. As expected, though, there were no remarks on his own style of dress. There never were and he hadn’t expected any, other than a cruel comment about a lack of cashmere sweater vests for the night. But seeing how good that Alfred looked made him feel a little jealous.
“Just hurry up and order.” Alfred peered up from the menu briefly, breaking him from his thoughts. “And not just something light. You have to order something big.”
And now he was a golden young man, broad-shouldered and tall, with a lazy, warm grin, and contagious excitement. It was almost unfair how well he had grown up, and how much Arthur had stayed the same over the years. The hand of fate had decided that he was still in as much love as ever, except in a hurting, aching way. As Alfred lost interest in the conversation and, presumably, in Arthur, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of hurt.
Maybe he needed to be thinner, still-
“I remembered what I was going to ask you,” Alfred interrupted, interest swinging back to him in full force, an unfair pendulum. “There’s this new restaurant in town and I heard the food was good, but nobody else would go with me. I don’t want to see your stupid face for the whole dinner, but I thought it might be a good lesson on what good food is like.”
“Stupid prat-“ Arthur scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. “What sort of idiotic offer is that? My food is delicious!”
“It’s disgusting,” Alfred deadpanned. An almost curious look flitted on his face. “I’m glad you haven’t brought your disgusting scones to the meetings lately.” His expression, however, seemed more relieved than thoughtful.
“You miss them, don’t you?”
“Not at all.”
“Bastard-“ It didn’t matter, either way. Arthur had lost the will to bake his scones, despite their deliciousness, because it disgusted him. His hands trembled slightly at the repulsion of the thought.
“So, are you going?”
“With such an impudent offer?” Arthur knew the answer that was already budding at the tip of his tongue, but he lingered for a few moments to give an impression of hesitance. “I suppose I have a bit of free time tomorrow night.”
“You mean, you have nothing at all to do.”
“Idiot!” But despite himself, he felt a little warmth to be going out to dinner with Alfred. It wasn’t anything special or unusual, but the giddiness in his stomach surely couldn’t only be hunger.
--
Alfred looked handsome.
It was a formal restaurant, so Arthur was pleased that at the very least, the messy Alfred had worn a suit. But it was more than that. Texas was tucked in the front of his pockets so his bright blue eyes shimmered under the chandelier, and his warmly tanned skin reflected the moon in its brightness. When he grinned in his cocky manner, his white teeth flashed. And when he ran his fingers through his neatly-styled hair, even Nantucket had been obedient enough to be swept all the way back, a far cry from his natural hairstyle. His casual stance contrasted aesthetically against his crisp, black suit, which called attention to the broadness of his chest and the thickness of his wrists.
“Alfred,” he said.
“What do you want to eat?” Like always, Alfred was dismissive, and buried his nose into the menu as quickly as possible. “They don’t have burgers, but maybe they can make something into a burger.”
“Idiot, don’t turn the distinguished food into something so cheap.” He fiddled with the laminated menu for another moment. He shouldn’t have been so nervous, nor flush so deep a red. But his heart couldn’t help but beat a little faster. As expected, though, there were no remarks on his own style of dress. There never were and he hadn’t expected any, other than a cruel comment about a lack of cashmere sweater vests for the night. But seeing how good that Alfred looked made him feel a little jealous.
“Just hurry up and order.” Alfred peered up from the menu briefly, breaking him from his thoughts. “And not just something light. You have to order something big.”
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