A/N: The second chapter! It focuses a bit more on Arthur and his thoughts of Alfred, but there's still plenty of Alfred's thoughts.

Thank you for the reviews, faves, and alerts! They mean a lot to me. Also, I'm technically grounded right now, so I don't know when I'll be able to get the next chapter up.

McLovin' It

"There's a flaw in your plan."

Alfred, who had successfully left the school building behind, whirled around in shock at the accented voice. "-the fuck? Arthur? Arthur Kirkland?"

"No shit, Sherlock."

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I ought to be asking you the same thing."

The two blonds narrowed their eyes at each other, and Alfred started back on his trek to nowhere. "Leave me alone."

"You're an idiot." Arthur struggled to keep pace with the long-limbed boy.

Alfred's mouth twitched as he fought to keep his anger down. He shouldn't be mad at Arthur; after all, he was the only one with enough balls to say what everyone else was thinking. Finally, Alfred released an inaudible sigh when he succeeded in snuffing out the anger. He did not succeed in suppressing the fresh tears.

"Shit- are you crying? Damn, I didn't mean it like that." Arthur raised his hands up in defense, but Alfred just shook his head.

"Nah, man; it's fine. But I'm not an idiot. I knew Ivan was cheating on me."

"Then why-?"

The taller one just shrugged, effectively cutting him off. Arthur wasn't dense; he could tell that Alfred didn't want to talk. They walked in silence for a while until Alfred spoke up. "How is there a flaw in my plan?"

Arthur raised a thick eyebrow, then both in recognition. "Oh, it's just… well, we live in the suburbs. This isn't a city, so where are you going to walk to? …Assuming you aren't fond of getting run over by a car."

"Don't tempt me," Alfred muttered under his breath. Louder, he grumbled. "I figure it's not that hard to cross about six lanes of traffic during rush hour. Everything's at a standstill anyway."

"Don't tempt Fate, Alfred. Mathieu wouldn't be happy if you became road kill."

"Speaking of road kill…" The two stopped at the site of a grotesque opossum splattered across the road.

"I have an uncle who would call that a meal," Arthur pointed out.

"I heard that in Louisiana they eat crocodile tails. Dad says it tastes like chicken."

They started walking again with no place in mind. It didn't look like it would rain any time soon, so neither was very concerned about foul weather interrupting their impromptu stroll. "My boyfriend Francis likes snails. Despite that, and the fact that he's a frog, he's a decent cook. Don't tell him I said that," he added as an afterthought.

Alfred just laughed. "I guess he is, but after I came in on him and Mattie eating poutine, I can't hold him in very high regard."

Now, say what you will about Arthur ranking in the high school caste system, but what he lacked in social skills he easily compensated for in observation skills. After all, when you're as good as him in detecting hidden themes and symbolism, you tend to notice subtle things. Like Alfred's increasing awkwardness with the conversation about food, as if the teen wasn't sure if what he said was acceptable. As if he was afraid of what Arthur would think if he said something tasted good; as if Arthur would think him a pig, or worse, fat. That paired with the fact that Arthur had never seen Alfred eat anything at lunch, and Arthur came to the conclusion that Alfred had an eating disorder.

Not letting his face show that he knew Alfred's dirty little secret, Arthur kept up his end of the conversation until they reached the main road. As predicted, the sea of cars weren't moving much, if at all. "I'm starving," the Briton announced.

"Yeah, it is about dinner time." Alfred glanced at his watch, distaste lacing his words.

"Well, I don't have much on me, so how does McDonalds sound?"

Alfred adjusted the backpack on his shoulders, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. "Um, y' see, Artie, I don't really know you…"

"But you know me enough to butcher my name. Therefore, I think it's safe for us to go eat junk food together." Arthur cocked an eyebrow critically as if he was waiting for Alfred to mess up in his cover story.

Maybe he's right. It's just one McDonalds. If I eat this, I'll just have a really light snack tomorrow and I'll be fine. And if he wants to go out again- but why would he want to? He probably just thinks I'm fat and disgusting. Oh God, what if he tells everyone on facebook about how I eat. He wouldn't do that. This is Arthur Fucking Kirkland! He doesn't have any friends! He's a good kid, after all; a bit of a punk, but a good kid nonetheless. He doesn't talk bad about people like I do. Of course, it's not like people just bring up randomly "Oh my god, did you see how much he was eating! He's gonna pop a button if he keeps that up". Still, some topics just appear and you can't help but contribute. No, it'll be safer if I just politely decline. Yeah, I'll do that… But damn, it's just. One. Meal. And really not even a meal. Does McDonalds count as a meal? Oh well, I'm not that hungry, so it'll fill me up.

Alfred abruptly snapped out of his thought process to shrug at the shorter blond. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

I'm so fucking stupid. Alfred clutched his stomach, writhing in pain and self-loathing on his bed. The navy sheets provided no comfort and Alfred was regretting his afternoon with every futile toss and turn. I should've known. I should've thought. It was stupid and thoughtless of me. This always happens, dammit!

With a graceless lurch, Alfred shot off the bed and into the bathroom he shared with his brother. This had been going on for hours, but since it was well into the night, the sick boy had to be as quiet as possible. Nearly every time he ate, this gross routine would occur. So to prevent it from popping up at inconvenient moments, he avoided eating. But he couldn't avoid eating around Arthur.

As Alfred kneeled in front of the toilet water, only one thought was running through his head. He knows.

A/N: I firmly believe eyebrows are the greatest form of expression.

A bit shorter than I wanted, but I kind of wanted to drop it off at that.

So, Arthur knows, and Alfred finds out he knows. I also felt the need to show that Alfred isn't just anorexic because he doesn't want to eat. He also gets sick when he eats (because he doesn't eat enough to really be used to it).

TBC