Sorry, Alfred, You're Still Not Gay [14/?]
anonymous
June 6 2009, 09:36:09 UTC
"Alfred!" Francis shouted as he ran after the taller blond. "Alfred!" He called again when it seemed as if Alfred didn't hear him.
Alfred stopped and turned around. He grinned at seeing that it was Francis. "Hey!" He waited for the other to catch up with him.
When Francis was an arm's length away from Alfred, he got his phone out from his pocket and browsed through it before shoving it into Alfred's face. "Is this real?" he asked.
"Huh what?" Alfred asked.
"Look at the picture!"
"No need to get your panties in a bunch." Alfred took the phone and looked at the picture on it. And then he all but gawked at it.
"Antonio was walking with the Vargas brothers on the way home when they saw you and this highly suspicious woman being friendly with each other in your favorite fast food chain without any third party. Is this really you? Who is she? When did you meet? She's not from our school, I know. She looks awfully familiar though. Don't tell me that she's your childhood friend that moved away nine years ago and is now back to resume a romantic relationship with you? Surely not, cher Alfred. This is only stuff that makes up those ridiculous dramas that some girls love to death." Francis looked up at Alfred, hoping to be proved wrong. He was also getting his breath back.
"Um, could you repeat some of that? I couldn't get all." He was still too busy staring at the picture and being shocked in general.
"Oh, no," France groaned. "You're in love. And she really is your long lost childhood friend, isn't she? You're planning on marrying her as soon as you graduate high school, and then you'll fly away in a different country with her to start anew. You're planning on having two children with her, one boy and one girl. You're also planning on being intimate with her every other day of the week."
"... W-What?!" Alfred almost dropped the phone. A blush spread like wildfire on his cheeks. "That's not true! She's not my long lost childhood friend. She isn't even a friend."
"But you're blushing!" France pointed at him. "You're blushing, mon cher. This must mean that you're actually the one in love with her and she doesn't know and currently you're pining away for a solution that will get her to notice you as a striking young man worthy of popping her cherry or doing her up a wall."
"Oh, oh god, Francis. It's nothing like that!"
"Non, non. I will hear none of it. You are in love with this girl, Alfred. I thought you were gay!"
"I thought I was, too!"
"Then again," Francis got the phone from Alfred and squinted at the picture with the tenacity of a jealous girlfriend, "she does look a bit like Arthur."
"What? No, no way!" Alfred grabbed the phone again. "There's no resemblance at all!"
"Why are the two of you blocking the hallway?" Arthur asked.
"Holy shit, Arthur!" Alfred exclaimed as he turned around to be greeted by bushy eyebrows.
"At least move over. Some people can't get past the two of you without being hit by your flailing." She glared at him.
"Not the best of times, Artie."
"... Just what did you say, Jones?"
"No, seriously. This is not a good time."
Arthur opened her mouth to give him the verbal lashing of the century, only to be stopped mid-shout by Francis who remarked, "When I look at him closely, she really looks like him a lot."
That had gotten Arthur to close her mouth and stare at Alfred who had given her the phone with slumped shoulders and a resigned aura hovering about him. Francis had looked at the two of them curiously.
When Arthur had received the phone and done a good deal of staring at the picture there, she laughed. It was a low, menacing laugh that resounded through the bustling hallway. This laugh had stopped all the students in their tracks. Soon enough, everyone was staring at Arthur.
"What is this, Bonnefoy?" she asked, the smile on her face as murderous as that lunatic slasher Alfred saw on TV a couple of nights ago.
"If you promise not to murder me, I'll tell you?" Francis asked.
"It's a done deal."
"Antonio took it while he was passing a restaurant. This is of a girl with Alfred. Whom I assume he is romantically involved with."
Alfred stopped and turned around. He grinned at seeing that it was Francis. "Hey!" He waited for the other to catch up with him.
When Francis was an arm's length away from Alfred, he got his phone out from his pocket and browsed through it before shoving it into Alfred's face. "Is this real?" he asked.
"Huh what?" Alfred asked.
"Look at the picture!"
"No need to get your panties in a bunch." Alfred took the phone and looked at the picture on it. And then he all but gawked at it.
"Antonio was walking with the Vargas brothers on the way home when they saw you and this highly suspicious woman being friendly with each other in your favorite fast food chain without any third party. Is this really you? Who is she? When did you meet? She's not from our school, I know. She looks awfully familiar though. Don't tell me that she's your childhood friend that moved away nine years ago and is now back to resume a romantic relationship with you? Surely not, cher Alfred. This is only stuff that makes up those ridiculous dramas that some girls love to death." Francis looked up at Alfred, hoping to be proved wrong. He was also getting his breath back.
"Um, could you repeat some of that? I couldn't get all." He was still too busy staring at the picture and being shocked in general.
"Oh, no," France groaned. "You're in love. And she really is your long lost childhood friend, isn't she? You're planning on marrying her as soon as you graduate high school, and then you'll fly away in a different country with her to start anew. You're planning on having two children with her, one boy and one girl. You're also planning on being intimate with her every other day of the week."
"... W-What?!" Alfred almost dropped the phone. A blush spread like wildfire on his cheeks. "That's not true! She's not my long lost childhood friend. She isn't even a friend."
"But you're blushing!" France pointed at him. "You're blushing, mon cher. This must mean that you're actually the one in love with her and she doesn't know and currently you're pining away for a solution that will get her to notice you as a striking young man worthy of popping her cherry or doing her up a wall."
"Oh, oh god, Francis. It's nothing like that!"
"Non, non. I will hear none of it. You are in love with this girl, Alfred. I thought you were gay!"
"I thought I was, too!"
"Then again," Francis got the phone from Alfred and squinted at the picture with the tenacity of a jealous girlfriend, "she does look a bit like Arthur."
"What? No, no way!" Alfred grabbed the phone again. "There's no resemblance at all!"
"Why are the two of you blocking the hallway?" Arthur asked.
"Holy shit, Arthur!" Alfred exclaimed as he turned around to be greeted by bushy eyebrows.
"At least move over. Some people can't get past the two of you without being hit by your flailing." She glared at him.
"Not the best of times, Artie."
"... Just what did you say, Jones?"
"No, seriously. This is not a good time."
Arthur opened her mouth to give him the verbal lashing of the century, only to be stopped mid-shout by Francis who remarked, "When I look at him closely, she really looks like him a lot."
That had gotten Arthur to close her mouth and stare at Alfred who had given her the phone with slumped shoulders and a resigned aura hovering about him. Francis had looked at the two of them curiously.
When Arthur had received the phone and done a good deal of staring at the picture there, she laughed. It was a low, menacing laugh that resounded through the bustling hallway. This laugh had stopped all the students in their tracks. Soon enough, everyone was staring at Arthur.
"What is this, Bonnefoy?" she asked, the smile on her face as murderous as that lunatic slasher Alfred saw on TV a couple of nights ago.
"If you promise not to murder me, I'll tell you?" Francis asked.
"It's a done deal."
"Antonio took it while he was passing a restaurant. This is of a girl with Alfred. Whom I assume he is romantically involved with."
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