Half Baked

Chapter 11

If Alfred and Arthur got into a shouting match as soon as Oliver closed their dorm door, he didn't hear them. It was just as well. Let them sort it all out; Alfred wasn't worth his time. Oliver walked down the hall, finding the gaudy yellow paint unsettling. He stopped at the crossroads where the right led to the stairwell and the left led to the common area. The TV was playing, but it was muted. Oliver took the left turn and stopped just before entering the common area. Commercials played on the TV. Before he could figure out why the TV had been abandoned, the door to his right opened.

"Oli?" Al's eyes fell on Oliver, and he froze halfway out of his dorm.

"Allen—" Oliver couldn't help the shocked squeak of his voice. He cleared his throat. "I forgot this was your floor."

"You mean you didn't pay the toll when you were getting off the elevator?"

Oliver let out an amused huff and smiled. "How have you been?"

"Good, good. I got out on parole."

"Allen."

"Kidding." Al stepped out of his dorm and pulled the door closed behind him. "I was about to read between commercials. Wanna talk instead?" He gestured to the navy blue couch across from him.

Oliver sighed as he looked over the couch. The PowerPoint could wait. He'd already gotten a chunk of it done, and all that was left was Alfred's portion. He could ignore that. For now. "I think I'd like that." He circled the corner and sat down against the couch's arm.

Al followed and sat against the couch's opposite arm. "What brings you down to Yellow Town?"

"Allen, that's really…not a good joke."

"I'm paid by quantity, not quality. You here to see me?"

Oliver shook his head and idly twisted a finger in his soft curls. "No, I was invited to someone's room." He groaned. "We had a shoddy 'date' in the dining hall, and he insisted that I come upstairs to meet his roommate."

"So the sex was good?"

Oliver kicked Allen's feet off the couch.

"Okay, okay— So. No sex. Was his roommate as lame as him?"

Oliver tucked his feet back and stared off at the TV. He sighed. "I feel sorry for him—the roommate. It's clear he likes the doofus I spent all of ten minutes with. And he just brought me up to his room to shove me in his roommate's face. Who does that? If it was someone who had their heart set on this date, they'd be destroyed."

"But luckily you're tough as nails."

"Luckily. Not so sure his roommate is, though. Oh, he started cursing immediately. 'What the eff is this,' he said."

"You know you can curse in front of me, Oli." Al's gentle gaze rested on Oliver, trying to coax comfort out of him.

Oliver shook his head. "I don't want to. I don't like it."

"Alright. Anyway, the loser down the hall was a jerk to you and his roommate. I guess you didn't stick around."

"Of course not. Why would I waste any more time with him? Ugh." Oliver rubbed his eyes, exhausted by the idiocy he had to witness. "Thank goodness I just have a group project with the doofus and then I never have to communicate with him again. I feel like I stabbed his roommate somehow. It's like the world shattered in his eyes."

Al shrugged, and his sympathy shined through his attempt at being aloof. "What're you gonna do? There's jerks doing jerk things here every day. Like… Oh, yeah, I've been seeing someone cute, but he's so freaking blinded. How long did it take you to figure out I wanted to date you when we met?"

Oliver eyed Al before looking out the windows beside him as he thought. "…Maybe a couple days? I remember you telling me bad jokes frequently, and you flirted a lot." A soft smile played on his lips at the memory. "You won me over fast; you were so charming."

"Okay, okay. Yeah. Couple days." Al straightened his back and pulled his legs together to cross them. "Alright, so. I met this guy way back in like…the beginning of March. We're still not a thing yet."

"Maybe he doesn't want to date you, and he doesn't want to lead you on? I know it'd be a Great Mystery to you—who wouldn't want to date Allen Jones?" Oliver waved his hands half-heartedly to pair with his facetious comment.

Al pouted. "Low blow."

"Sorry, Allen. You're really very charming and considerate. You know I don't mean it."

"S'alright. Okay, but. Yeah. He's totally head-over-heels for his roommate, but his roommate's a jerk. Like. Class A jerk. Overprotective. Like…abusive, even. There's this thing that happened way back in middle school, and it still bothers this guy I like. Alfred's not gonna date him, but here he is still holding out and hoping that the Mighty Wonderful Alfred will say 'oh, actually, yeah, it just so happens that even though I'm straight, I'll date you.' Like? What?" Al leaned back against the couch's arm and groaned at the ceiling. "He's so stupid. Well—" Al immediately straightened his back to correct himself. "He's not stupid. He's adorable and sweet and needs to be protected. He's just…doing something stupid."

"…You said 'Alfred'?"

"Oh, my God. Not you, too."

"No, no, that's the doofus! Alfred! He paraded into his room and forced me onto his roommate! Uhm— A…?"

"Arthur—"

"Arthur! His roommate's name's Arthur! And he looked so distraught when Alfred said he was bisexual."

"He said what?"

"Don't take that tone with me." Oliver crossed his arms. "Alfred says he's bisexual. He's just realized it. I'd say good for him, but it looks like it hurts Arthur."

"You're goddamn right it does." Al stood and moved to storm out of the common room, but Oliver gripped his arm.

"…Allen, take a breath. Arthur's in the room with him, and if he's as fragile as we both think he is, then punching Alfred is going to make things worse. Wait a while. Calm down."

"Fine."

"So," Arthur finally spoke. "You're bisexual." His anger had simmered down somewhat. He had to keep reminding himself that Alfred had a right to be attracted to whoever he found interesting. Oliver was interesting. Interesting enough to keep Alfred's attention. Alfred's attention… He was always looking at everything, talking about everything, fucking every—

"Yeah. Just figured it out," Alfred blurted out.

Or rather, it seemed blurted out. It interrupted Arthur's rampaging train of thought well enough. "Just now?"

"Well—before I asked out Oli."

"Oliver."

"Yeah, Oliver. 'Oli's a pet name. It's cute."

"Like Art?" Arthur lifted an eyebrow, allowing his bitterness to show.

Silence fell against them again. Arthur didn't have it in him to stare at Alfred, so his eyes fell away to the rough, dark carpet. Alfred wasn't a private person. Every tiny change in his life was broadcasted. He was incapable of being discreet or secretive. Arthur hadn't seen Oliver—hadn't even heard of him—until a minute ago. Alfred never once talked about another guy as if he loved him—or even felt attracted to them. Alfred's attraction… Arthur never saw it in anything. Well, he hadn't until Alfred loudly proclaimed that he and Oliver were dating, but that's the only way Arthur would have known.

The shades of color in the carpet began taking shape.

… Why would Alfred do this? Why would he do this to Arthur? His best friend? Alfred had just paraded his new boyfriend in front of Arthur, who's had a massive love for Alfred for six years, and told Arthur he was truly bisexual and not interested in him all within the span of two minutes. It was overwhelming.

"Say something, Arthur."

Arthur's eyes flicked back to Alfred.

"I know you're stuck in your head, but I need to hear something from you."

Something? 'I need something'? Fuck, throw Arthur a bone first. What the hell was going on?! "What?" Arthur leaned back against his desk, the edge of it digging into his side. "What can I say to any of that?"

Alfred's eyebrows knitted together ever so slightly, and the light in his eyes shined just a bit duller.

Panic struck him. Alfred dumped all of this on Arthur in two minutes not because he wanted to hurt him (God forbid; Alfred wasn't cruel), but because Alfred was sick of holding it all in. Alfred wasn't a private person, so this secret was no doubt rotting his insides.

"I don't… That's." Alfred began to stumble over his words.

He was afraid. Alfred was afraid of how Arthur, his long-time best friend, would take the life-changing news, and he'd finally worked up enough courage to spill all he had. Arthur stood and wrapped his arms around Alfred, giving him a hug in solidarity. "I'm sorry," Arthur spoke against Alfred's chest. "I'm sorry; I've been so sucked into what's going on in my life. I didn't think that you'd be hiding something like this."

Alfred's eyes widened. He knew Arthur was perceptive, but he was still surprised. "Then… You still do?"

Arthur paused and took a step back to give Alfred his room. "Still do what? Like…boys?"

"Like me?"

Arthur lifted his chin, realizing that Alfred was thinking of his feelings about the situation. He'd misunderstood him. Alfred was growing up…and hiding it from him. "I…" Arthur dug his teeth into his bottom lip and looked away.

Hope filled Alfred's eyes. "So you do?"

Arthur winced and bit his lip harder. "Y…yes," his voice stumbled out in a whisper. "Yes, but— Please don't think you have to hide any of this."

Alfred shook his head, and his lips pulled into a grin. "No, no. 'Course not." He yanked his wallet out of his back pocket. "I thought you still liked me. So when Oli came in, you were jealous?"

Arthur paused, briefly surprised. Ah, but Alfred was getting more perceptive. If Alfred knew he still liked him, it'd be a reasonable assumption that Alfred would know he would be jealous. "Just… Yes. But still—don't think you have to hide it from me. You and Oliver look…nice together." Arthur felt the metaphorical knife twist in his chest. Yeah, Alfred was bisexual. He liked guys. Arthur could've had a chance, but…take down oneself to protect others, right? Alfred had already said he wasn't interested. If Arthur backed off, then Alfred would be able to be happy with Oliver.

…Oliver. His more-or-less, fucking copy. Arthur squeezed his eyes closed to ignore that Oliver even had an accent.

"Yeah, I just…we just had a date. Ignore it."

A soft crinkle of old paper invaded Arthur's ears, and his eyes flew open when he felt the paper's folded edges against his cheek.

"I just wanted to be sure how you feel. So… This is me proving it to you."

Arthur lifted an eyebrow and accepted the folded paper out of Alfred's hand. He glanced down to see his wallet out and open; Alfred had kept this—whatever it was. He unfolded the paper, knowing for sure he'd seen it before. That tear at the top, the color of the teal lines, the dirty footprint on the back…

"I like you."

…and the meticulously-chosen marker that painted an entire side with paragraphs of puppy love. Arthur was face-to-face with his 7th grade handwriting. Arthur's eyes widened as the abuse he experienced back then flooded his senses. The mocking, the name-calling, the sick twisted feeling in his stomach, the smell of the urine and excess aftershave from the boy's bathroom, his blurred vision, his ruined book covers, the taste of chocolate and stab of dry cookie scraping down his throat, the inability to speak for days— The paper fell to the rough, dark carpet. Geometric shapes appeared in the floor's variation of blue and black. It helped. Alfred's blonde hair interrupted the view as he bent down and picked up the abused love note.

"I've been saving it. I wanted to prove to you that I care. I… You've always been different. And I realized…that I really like you. And I wanna date. …Arthur?"

Arthur's head snapped up to meet Alfred's line of vision. His wide eyes wavered as they took in Alfred's concerned look. Arthur worked to forcibly remove himself from the flashback which threatened to asphyxiate him. He took in shaky breaths.

Alfred tossed his wallet and the love note away onto his desk before gripping Arthur's shoulders and staring into his eyes. "Hey," he spoke as his hands slipped down Arthur's shoulders and gathered at the small of his back, holding Arthur in a loose hug, "Art, you heard me, right? I wanna date, do romantic shit. Aren't you happy? You're like…"

Broken or something.

Arthur's thoughts hiccupped back into existence, and he rested a hand against Alfred's chest to keep him at a distance. "It's been suffocating in there for six years?" His voice wavered. "You felt this way for six years?"

"…Yeah." Alfred brushed his lips against Arthur's ear. "…M'sorry. I…took a while to wake up, huh?"

Arthur let out a broken laugh as tears pooled in his eyes.