I can still hear the stupid laughter of Francis and his comrades who work here. They stopped laughing a while ago, but I can still hear them in my head. Goddamnit, the whole worlds going to see that! I'm not anorexic, far from it; I weigh a hundred and twenty five pounds! And I eat on a normal basis, I do not have anorexia. Sure I may not be the strongest, but I'm not unhealthy skinny. Or, maybe I should be stronger… Oh now it's starting to get in my head, great. I even put a shirt on this morning, I usually end up walking around in my boxers, but no, I'm wearing a shirt because they're all going to laugh. I can feel the heat on my face as I sit down on the couch, embarrassment creeping all over my body. They even had the pictures of me at the pool in them, how did they even get those? I didn't even notice them, and Francis would never let pictures like that get out of this house. Goddamnit, this sucks, I'm starting to shake I'm so paranoid. All the magazines have ever said were positive small things like a new album, or concert tickets or something, not this. I get how other celebrities feel now, this sucks. The way I can describe this is that it sucks, and really embarrassing. I kind of want to cry, but I don't at the same time. I think it's more angry tears then anything, because, well I'm not unhealthy skinny like that. Right? Compared to other guys I was a shrimp.

Now I'm walking around, slouching and sulking about this new problem of mine. I looked like a grumpy old man, pacing around the halls with my arms crossed. They were all crowded around Francis holding up the magazine and laughing, the only people missing were Kiku, Alfred, Yao, and two others. I thought it was over, after that, I was afraid of another ridicule session. Terrified of it, actually.

But once again when I walked into the living room I saw Alfred on the couch, position on his back resting his head on the arm rest, reading that bloody magazine. I felt disgusted, not wanting the most annoying person in this house to laugh at me; I ran over to him and ripped the book out of his hands.

Alfred looked shocked and confused at first, wondering where the thing he was reading went. But his eyes slowly met mine, "What was that for?"

"Oh, now you're going to laugh at me, hm?" I hissed, taking the magazine and dropping it on the coffee table. I felt my nostrils flare as I said these words.

"Why?" Alfred looked confused while he sat up, "Miley Cyrus is really the only reason why I wanted to read that." Alfred's lips pursed into a semi-smile, probably thinking about that crazed pop star.

Suddenly, I wasn't worried about Alfred laughing at me. I wanted to rant. I felt the need to rant and to show him why I was angry. I sat next to him quickly, flipping through the magazine to find the page about me while Alfred looked on in curiosity. "That!" I said loudly, pointing to the page, my finger pushing in on the soft pages.

Alfred took the magazine from my lap and put it onto his. He studied it for a few moments, biting his lip. I was afraid of his lips cracking into a smile, but it never came. "That's horrible," Alfred said, squinting his eyes. I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Ah, thank you," I muttered, allowing myself to smile. Having someone not laugh at me was nice.

"No, Arthur, this really is bad," Alfred shut the magazine and put it on the table, "Even if you were, it wouldn't be cool to write about that to make people look bad."

I looked at him for a few moments and shrugged. His seriousness was now making me not want to rant about it anymore, he wasn't at all threatening, especially since Alfred was so goofy (even though he had mellowed down a little in this passing week.)

"And you're not anorexic, I've seen you every day almost naked and you're very healthy," Alfred stated angrily, crossing his arms.

"Well, how much do you weigh?" I asked, "You're a good size for a lad our age."

"Oh," Alfred's seriousness faded and grew into a nervous energy, "Well, that's not the question here." I frowned, knowing he was holding back to spare my feelings. I glared at him for a few moments until the blonde sighed, "I'm one seventy."

"Man, I don't have anorexia but," I pulled up my shirt, looking at how my ribs just slightly poked out, "I think I may be unhealthy."

"But dude, I work out like, a lot," Alfred said, "More then I should, actually, I'm twenty pounds above the average weight."

"Well you're not fat then, and you're shoulders are rather wide," I sighed, "I'll just deal with the fact that I'm smaller than most men."

Now it was Alfred's turn to shrug and give up on the argument. He rubbed the side of his head awkwardly as I crossed my arms. "But, you look great; don't be too self-conscious about it."

"Great?" I started to laugh, "Don't need to suck up to me because you're new here, Alfred, I'm just another person. Think of me no different."

"But you are different than them," Alfred seemed more confused now than anything, but I didn't understand why- what I was saying was simple, "And I mean what I'm saying, dude."

I felt touched and irritated at his kindness, I really had mixed feelings for Alfred. This past week he's gotten calmer which is nice. I only see him in the mornings now, but he still gets me my morning tea, and it's defiantly more of a friendly connection with that. Maybe I'm not as irritated, but I can't let go of my frustration towards him just yet.

I had shrugged, not wanting or feeling the need to thank him. I felt more defensive then anything, maybe it's because I don't receive complements from people I see every day.

"But Arthur, you really do look good," Alfred smiled and nudged me with his knuckles gently. This time I smiled slightly, rising up my shoulders as a week attempt to cover up my face.

"Oh stop it," I said quietly, still smiling. Now I was going to allow myself to be happy because of his compliments.

"Hey, Arthur, I was wondering maybe if ya wanted to get a coffee with me," Alfred said, "Maybe get to know you better. All I really know is that you sing and you got creepers in your backyard taking pictures of you."

"First of all, I drink tea," I said, laughing slightly, "Well sure; I'll go get a coffee with you."

"Great! How about next Wednesday, I've been pretty busy with songs," Alfred said with a smile.

"Alright, sounds good," I said, "If anything changes we live together so it won't be too hard to re-plan." Alfred smiled in return, getting up. The couch rose as he weight was lifted off of it, proving what Alfred had said previously about his weight.

"See you around," Alfred said in his quirky but yet calm voice, smiling kindly at me as he walked away. I was irritated but yet happy that my first opinion on Alfred was somewhat wrong. It frustrated me because, well, I was wrong. But I was pleased because I wouldn't have to live with the loud, stalker-like Alfred. Even then his mind was in the right place, but still, he was annoying then, and now he wasn't as bad.

That week was alright. I spent most of my time in a t-shirt instead of just my boxers, since I looked naked when I wore my briefs because my shirt covered them I avoided briefs and just wore boxers. Wednesday came, but we both had to cancel because I had singing practice and Francis was overloading Alfred on work. Poor lad, he was hired on the wrong time; Francis was planning on an album release in a month. Ten songs in a month is a lot, Alfred doesn't even have time to talk to me in the morning. I kind of miss him, he's the one of the few exciting parts of my day.

After my singing-class-warm up-thingy, Kiku drove me home. "So, Mister Kirkland, has that cold of your gotten any better?"

"Yeah," I said, climbing into the car, "I can actually sing high notes again without squeaking." Singing was one of the few things that kept me calm and happy, so having a smooth voice again was awesome. I loved singing as a calming hobby, mixing it with the rush of fame and concerts wasn't very fun for me.

Kiku and I looked at each other with a smile and said; "Sounds like the soundtrack for a sunset." That was something my father used to say to me all the time. I miss him, so does Kiku. Three months before my dad went to jail, Kiku was hired as an around the house help and was really close to my father. We both shared the pain of losing my father, which was one of the reasons why we were so close. At least I get to visit and write to him.

After I got home I went on my laptop and looked up some porn. What? I'm a horny 17-year-old who isn't allowed to date, I should at least be able to watch some gay porn every once in a while without being ridiculed. Anyways, a lot of people do it, it's not like it's un-normal. I went to go take a shower afterward and then slipped on some sweatpants, making my way to the living room, my hair still wet with once hot water. I sat down on the couch for a few moments.

"Bonjour." The voice sent me straight up into the eyes of my big brother. He liked to tease me with his French, but this time, it actually sounded like he slipped. Like he didn't mean to let the French he was so used to speaking slip out. And damn, was he happy.

"Why are you so happy?" I said quietly as the taller man sat down next to me. Francis smiled, handing me an envelope.

"Dad wrote us."

"Dad?" I shrieked, snatching the orange envelope from his hands. Francis pulled out one as well, which must have been his, but I wasn't paying much attention. I was the closest to my dad; Francis was more of a mom's boy. I had most of my dad's features, his green eyes, blonde hair, the way I even spoke English. Francis shared a few of his traits, such as the blonde hair, but he got more of my mother's side. Taller with blue eyes and his hair was even a dirtier blonde because of my mom's brown hair.

I had quickly opened the orange envelope with my finger, shoving it into the thick paper and pulling. I pulled out the paper excitedly.

Dear Arthur,

Hey Artie, how is it going? Hope everything is okay over there, does Francis still bully you? Anyways, I'm really proud of you. I know I say that every time, but I really am. I know you don't enjoy the famous life, but in a few years everything will be fine. So, new song writer, I heard? Francis told me a few nights ago. Well, sorry I haven't been able to write you, those security guys are really hard going on sending letters. I've gotten all of your so far, Arthur, so don't worry! About twenty this last month, right? Just kidding, but I do get a lot of your letters. Good news, too! You might be able to see me sooner than planned! Maybe next month, even.

Love, mister dad. P.S., Arthur, tell Kiku I miss him! Love you!

I smiled. He wrote to me, he actually wrote me! It's been months since he's been able to write to me! And I would be able to see him soon, this is great! I haven't seen him in a year! I squeezed my legs together and smiled like a child.

"This is great, huh Francis?" I said, smiling, "We get to see dad soon!"

"Yeah," Francis' eyes separated from the paper. He looked almost, upset for a moment. It faded quickly though, so I didn't ask why, "Nous obtenons de voir papa!" I snickered and I frowned.

"Stop with your fancy French language!" I said with a laugh. It was times like this Francis actually got along well, and it was pretty fun. Francis was upset for a very long time after mom died, but now that he's back home he has gotten much better.

Later that night I was curled up on the couch in the living room with a blanket. I was watching Titanic on my laptop. I still cry over that movie, even though I've seen it many times. It was dark outside now, and I had purposely turned off all the lights to see my movie better. I would go in my room if I was bugging anyone, but I haven't heard any footsteps coming. This made the sudden call of my name behind me scare me even more.

"Hey Arthur!"

I shouted quietly, my hand slamming the pause button and whipping around. "Oh, god, Alfred, you scared me."

"Sorry," Alfred laughed, sitting down on the edge of the couch. He pat my back roughly as my shoulders raised. "How's it going?"

"Okay," I said, "Why haven't you been seeing me in the morning?" I set my laptop to the side.

"Sorry about that, I've been working on songs," Alfred said, puckering her lips slightly, "Its hard work."

"Can tell," I murmured, realizing Alfred had some dark circles under his eyes, his glasses hiding them slightly. "Wish I could write my own songs, or at least tell people I have a song writer."

"I like writing your songs though," Alfred smiled, "it's been a dream of mine for a while, I don't mind not being credited. All that matters is that it's fun!"

"But, I don't want to take the claim of your songs, it makes me feel bad," I said, biting my lip. Alfred looked at me, squinting his eyes.

"Dude, I just said I don't mind. As long as you know that they're my songs I don't mind at all, I actually love doing it without being credited, too much attention." It irritated me how self-directed he was about the conversation. He didn't mean it, I knew that. But still, he sounded selfish even though what he was saying wasn't selfish. But, it was like he wasn't worried about my view on things.

"Okay," I said, despite my want to say something rude. Alfred was working hard for me, so I should be patient with him. He is very kind most of the time anyways.

"I'm almost done with the songs, anyways," Alfred said with a small laugh, "Maybe we can grab that coffee sometime later."

"Well we have time now," I said, confused.

"It's too late, coffee shops are closed," Alfred laughed, "I've lived here for two weeks and I already know that."

"No, I mean, we can talk," I said, "Isn't that the whole reason why you wanted to go out with me?" Alfred started to laugh. "What?"

"Go out with me." He laughed, "It's like we're dating."

I flicked his head. In the few seconds that my hand was touching his hair, his hair felt like it was layered heavily, but yet kind of fluffy. We both laughed, but Alfred winced at the same time.

"So, Mister Jones, your parents must be proud of you, hm?" I said cocking my head to the side slightly, "I mean, you said you wanted to do this for a while."

"Oh, I don't have parents." The sentence shocked me, the total innocence in his voice. Like saying you had no parents was the most normal thing ever. Before I could say anything, Alfred started to speak again, "I'm an orphan, technically, I think my parents didn't have enough money to raise me and my brother. But I was raised by like, a nanny type person."

"Oh," I said, furrowing my brow.

"I fell into depression around age twelve, I think, that's why I'm so good at writing songs, cuz I used to write poetry and stuff," Alfred twirled a piece of his hair around his fingers, "But I'm long over the depression, it's still kind of there, but my life is pretty good at the moment. I still take pills for it sometimes, but not much anymore."

"Oh, wow," I muttered to myself. This was surprising alone, Alfred having depression. He seemed so happy all the time, I now felt bad for even considering hating him. He could still be annoying at times, but now I felt kind of bad.

"I know, didn't expect that, hm?" Alfred's lips pursed into a smile, he looked at me, "A lot of people are shocked when they hear that. But I'm alright now, I've got a ton of friends and I work for you!"

"Well," I said with a shrug, "I guess I didn't." I smiled slightly. Alfred laughed and patted me on the shoulder, man he was rough. He gave such a gentle look, but his mannerisms were the exact opposite. I wonder if he has a girlfriend, I mean, he is a very handsome lad. "Hey, Alfred?"

"Al," He corrected me again, his eyebrows rising in a 'matter of fact' expression, "well, anyways, yeah?"

"Are you dating anyone?" I asked. He looked at me strangely, squinting his eyes, "Not that I'm interested! Just curious."

"Not at the moment," Alfred said, biting his lip, "I'm not open to anyone at the moment. I dated a lot when I was younger, I think I'm just gonna wait until I find the right person."

"Wow, I'm the exact opposite," I laughed, "I'm looking for anything I can get, Francis won't let me date. Mainly because he's afraid of the paparazzi picking up on me and my boyfriend that doesn't exist yet."

"That sucks," Alfred snickered.

"It's not all it's cracked up to be," I said with a sigh. Alfred was smart enough to know that I was talking about being famous.

"But you're doing a good job," Alfred said, his expression changed to a stupid-looking worry. I don't know why he seemed worried, it shouldn't worry him. "You've made a lot of people happy, I don't think you realize how much of an impact you've left on people."

"Like what?" I laughed, tapping my knee with my finger.

"Suicide," Alfred said, the one word chilling me to the bone. I don't save people's lives like that, other bands do, not me. I don't want to be doing what I'm doing, at first I loved it, but now I hate it. If I didn't mean what I was singing, and I saved people with the stuff I didn't mean to say, doesn't that make me somewhat of a monster? This isn't right; I never even realized that suicide prevention was even considerable.

Alfred turned to me and smiled. I looked at him, and that's when I realized what he was saying. I swallowed, hard. Oh god, please no, I don't want to be loved like this for being fake.

"Ya know, I know that first hand." He said, nudging my shoulder with his fist, "Just, do what you want, but, you really mean a lot to me, and a lot of other people as well."

I rested my head in my hands. I wanted to tell him I wasn't, this felt so wrong, but I just couldn't. I usually would easily be able to tell someone what was on my mind, but, this was serious. Alfred would be dead if it wasn't for my singing. And I made him really happy, how the hell was I supposed to tell him that I never meant any of that? What would that do to him? He told me he was much better, but he still wasn't totally okay. He probably would be fine with it, but just in case he wasn't, I shouldn't tell him. To spare his feelings, I can't tell him. No matter how hard it pains me not to.

"Arthur?" Alfred said quietly, cocking his head to meet my eyes. I turned my head to look at him. "You look upset?"

"No, no, I'm just surprised, that's all," I said quietly, scratching the back of my head to occupy my hands, "I'm really sorry all that happened to you."

"Eh," Alfred shrugged. He took a breath to say something, but I just hugged him. I don't know why, I really don't hug anyone but my brother, Kiku, and my parents, and then again millions of complete strangers who get backstage passes, but I hugged him anyway. I knew him well enough, and we could be considered friends by now, so this was totally normal.

Totally normal.

But, he was warm nonetheless. Warm and surprisingly big, since I normally hug people my size or smaller. It was a warm, sweet little friendly hug. But then again when Alfred hugged me back I felt like his body was eating me up, Goddamnit he's huge.

"Artie?" He asked quietly. The nickname annoyed me, but I ignored it from the rest, "I'm okay, really, I was just proving a point. It was a while ago."

"I know," I said, pulling away from his arms, "I just," I shrugged. "Friends hug, right?"

"Oh," Alfred's eyes widened slightly, and then his smile widened and he nodded, "Yeah, friends defiantly hug!"

"Good," I smiled and laughed, "If not we're both really gay."

"Well that was a girly hug," Alfred said with a laugh, "Men hug like handshake hug-thing."

"But those are more official, I said, "Friends don't do that. That's weird." I yawned, the wrong feeling still faintly existing. But, the happiness in the room now blurred it out. "Well, anyhow, how's that album coming?"

"Almost done!" Alfred said with a smile, giving me a dorky little thumbs up.

"Hard work, hm?"

"Duh," Alfred laughed, "I'm exhausted." Alfred took off his glasses and set them on the coffee table, rubbing his eyes before pressing his back against the couch.

"Thanks," I said softly, feeling the need to thank him for his hard work. He is doing this for me, even though he's getting paid, I feel like he's working extra hard for me.

"No problem, Arthur," Alfred said with a relaxed sigh. "I think I'm actually gonna go to bed."

"Oh," I pouted my lip slightly, Alfred was fun to talk to, and I hadn't seen him in a while. "Well, I don't blame you."

He stood up, helping me up after. Even though I really didn't need help. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, can you see me tomorrow morning?" I said quietly, trying to keep the want for him not to go out of my voice. I wasn't tired, too much stimulation at the moment.

"Yeah," Alfred said with a laugh, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

I settled down that night with some more porn. I had nothing else, so why not?

Well that was a bad idea. Whacked up dreams, man, weird ass-dreams.

First of all, I was in my house. Everything is all blurry now, but dreams are hard to remember. Francis apparently had a girlfriend, which he already said never to date again because of some relationship in France. So that was strange, but, that's not even the strangest part. This is where the porn comes in, I had sex. Well, love making, not really sex. And who else would it be with but Alfred? Jesus Christ, that was weird.

"So, is it good?" He had said, kissing my hand and sucking on my fingers. His voice was distant and blurry, like, he was talking to me through a glass dome. I don't really remember what it felt like; it was a dream after all. I had answered yes. "You know, it's hard," his voice was still blurry and weird. He had reached down and touched my cock at this point.

Alfred then took a breath through his lips and said, "Writing."

That's when I woke up. I almost shouted when I got up, Goddamnit that was weird. I realized why Alfred's voice was so faint, it was because Francis and him were having a conversation about jobs and stuff outside my door. None the less, now that everything made sense, I found that my boxers were all sticky and gross. I grimaced over-dramatically, and awkwardly made my way to the bathroom to take a shower.

Ew, gross. Never watching porn at night after talking to Alfred again.

Authors Note-

Woo new chapter

lol sex dreams Arthur you little slut (just kidding)

well yeah here we go Alfred and Arthur bonding time yay. Not spell checked be careful.

man these notes are very pointless

I really like making Alfred having depression, okay? And Arthur always has to be the cool one, yeaahhh