Note: Thank you for reading. This is my first story, so I would appreciate if you could please leave a lot of constructive criticism on what you feel I should improve on, or even general comments on what you'd like to see, what you enjoyed, what you didn't, etc. I enjoy reading all reviews (even flames, for some strange reason), so please do comment if you can. It'll definitely make my day.
The gentle summer breeze ruffled Arthur Kirkland's perpetually disheveled golden hair. He peered around his balcony and gazed at his flourishing rose garden, his green eyes softening with tender affection. Arthur lived on the third and the top floor of his apartment and could only keep a medium sized balcony garden. Nonetheless, it was remarkably beautiful- and fittingly so, as he spent most of his free time tending to it. His best friend, Alfred Jones, often joked that Arthur's precious flowers provided the only love he would ever find in his oh-so-lonely life. The blonde rolled his eyes as he tipped his watering can over one of the pots. Alfred would be Alfred, he decided and wiping his hands with a clean rag, he sat down on a white, curly-cued garden chair. He closed his eyes in contentment and let the glow of the golden afternoon sunshine wash over him, sighing happily as he took another sip of tea. Of course Alfred had remarked on his "feminine" chairs. His blue eyes had sparkled with mirth, Arthur recalled fondly, a relaxed smile gracing his face. Of course, the bloody idiot had laughed for twenty minutes straight, he remembered suddenly, and his face creased into a characteristically not-so-fond glower.
"Idiot," Arthur muttered, resting his elbow heavily on the matching garden table. "What does he know? His brain matter is practically composed of all those stupid hamburgers he eats." He chortled appreciatively and took another bite of scone. Never mind Alfred. Arthur vowed to enjoy the beautiful day without dwelling on any of the delinquents he called "friends". His emerald gaze wandered absently over the lush greenery outside of the beauty of his secluded balcony- a fitting symbol for the solitude of his life. Ah yes, he certainly enjoyed life alone. No distractions, no external stress, no perverted Frenchmen, no-
Wait a moment. What… what was that? It sounded like it had come from inside. Arthur's eyes widened and he set his teacup down with a clatter. He craned his neck towards the direction of the sound but all he received was silence, save for the rustling of the wind in the trees. The blonde shook his head violently. He was probably being too paranoid, but he could have sworn he had heard a muffled-
"Oh, honhonhonhon."