The small bell above the door rang clearly through the old diner, signaling the presence of the two men who walked in. The younger's face was laden with dirt and his expression was a mix of guilt and annoyance, while the elder man's held obvious fury behind his eyes.
The man at the counter gave them a small nod, and they quietly took their seats in a nearby booth. An uncomfortable silence took over the two as they avoided each others' gaze. Finally, the older blonde picked up the laminate menu and scanned it critically, using it as a blockade for the teen's face.
"Alfred," he suddenly proclaimed, startling his comrade, "you're going to have to tell me sometime. You can't keep hiding this from me." He lowered the menu to reveal the boy's face, starting down at his lap silently. The older man persistently stared at him until he looked up, glaring.
"What does it matter? I'm here now, you shouldn't care anymore." His sharp words cut through the still hair. The Brit's voice was soft when he spoke again.
"It does matter, Alfred. You were gone for three days and I never heard a word from you." He frowned, his eyebrows drawing together. "I was worried for you."
The spectacled boy turned to look out the window, though the early morning darkness gave him no view to look upon. He opened his mouth to reply, but a throat being cleared caused the both of them to look up, where a server was looking down at them sheepishly.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt-" Her apology was cut short by a dismissive wave of hand and a warm smile.
"It's alright, we're ready to order." With a nod to Alfred, they repeated their orders and she scurried off into the kitchen in the back.
"Arthur, we can't do this anymore," The American suddenly exclaimed in the midst of the settling silence. The older man's eyes widened, but he kept quiet despite the gears in his head spinning wildly. What could he possibly mean- "And don't give me that shit question I know you want to ask. You know exactly what I'm talking about." His eyes flickered down, towards his lap, quickly. "The fighting. It's too much, I..." His voice cracked, and the once bright blue eyes glossed over with unshed tears he was determined to keep in.
"I think I should move out."
A crash resounded throughout the house. Matthew knew exactly what was going on; he'd heard it too many times lately.
"I don't care what you want, you're not going to go around partying your life away!" Arthur's hands were trembling. His cup now lay shattered on the floor. Alfred's hands were clenched into fists at his sides, nails digging into his rough palms. He was trying desperately not to let them swing out in front of him.
"And why not? I'm keeping my grades up in school, and what else do you expect me to do?"
"Maybe you could actually spend time at home with us! Matthew and I have been talking; we can't even remember the last time the three of us had dinner together! You're always out by the time I get home, Alfred!"
"Oh, like you would even care if I was there or not! You don't seem to give a damn about me, so why do you suddenly care now?"
"Alfred, don't you dare-"
"You know what?" Alfred's nostrils flared. His face was a bright red and he was choked up with anger, to the point where he was having to take deep breaths to continue speaking.
"I'm done." He stiffly regained his posture, glaring coldly at the man who had raised him.
"Done?" Arthur was caught off-guard. He'd expected Alfred to put up more of a fight about this.
"Yeah. You heard me." He turned on his heel, walking swiftly up the stairs to where his shared bedroom with Matthew was located.
Arthur was rooted to the spot for a moment, the cogs in his head whirling. What was he doing? "Alfred!" He regained the sensibility to move, and quickly ran up the stairs to catch up with the young man.
"Alfred, what are you-" He stopped short once he came to Alfred's doorway. He had already pulled out his duffel bag, and clothes were strewn about the floor as he carelessly pulled them out of his drawer and shoved them into his bag.
"I said I was done with this." He didn't meet Arthur's eyes as he spoke, too concentrated in what he was doing. His hands were shaking.
He quickly tugged the zipper shut and slung the bag over his shoulder, turning to face his father. "Arthur." The older man's eyes widened. He'd never used his name, usually calling him the ridiculous nickname he'd dubbed him as a child. "I'm not a kid anymore, and I don't like being treated like one. I'm an adult." Oh, how that word stung like a sharp slap across the face.
"You're being irrational. This is ridiculous. Think about what you're doing!" His teeth were clenched as he became more furious with the boy. What was he thinking? He was an idiot!
"I've been thinking. I've thought about this for a long time, actually." His gaze wandered, over the walls filled with memories - days of pain and happiness, times of joy and hardships. He'd been such a carefree child. He unusually-serious eyes turned back onto Arthur.
"I'm sorry, Arthur. I wish I could have stayed just a little longer." And with that, he was gone.
The diner was completely silent now. Arthur sat alone in the old booth, staring at his cracked hands. He couldn't have just stayed longer?
He gazed out the window into the darkness, where the young man had retreated long ago. If he squinted, he could just make out the wily mess of blonde hair, the old leather jacket, and the worn converse he always had refused to take off. He'd watched the boy he raise as a child walk away from him for the second time without saying so much as a word.
He'd regret everything he didn't do that day to stop him.
He wanted Alfred back.