AN: I wrote most of this just now, so it was done pretty quickly!

Enjoy.

"See that girl over there, Al?" My dad motioned his head to a girl over by the counter ordering a salad. She had short blond hair, was tall, and a bit chubby. "She looks nice, whatdya say?"

"She's really pretty." And she was, but not in a "I'm going to ask for your number and never text you back" kind of way like how my dad was thinking.

"Got any girls at school your interested in?" He said in a very fatherly tone as he folded his pizza sideways and took a huge bite of it. Between the two of us, we could finish a whole pie. I don't mean those small slices you get at Dominos, I mean New York style. I guess in a way it was really manly to eat a lot, but then you sort of end up becoming like my dad. Trying to get rid of a beer belly at age 40.

Sometimes I'm not sure whether to look forward to that or start ordering more plates of salad like that blonde haired girl wearing overalls did.

"Al? Any girls?" He repeated after I spaced out.

I didn't know what to tell him. My hand almost shook trying to reach out for my soda. Sometimes I could tell the difference between Pepsi and Coke, this was not one of those times.

"I guess, I don't really know any of them well enough." Did that sound gay?

He laughed in a non-teasing way and set down his slice on the grease-filled plate. "You nervous? Believe it or not, I was nervous when I first spoke to your mom."

My dad didn't like to talk about my mom, she sort of left without warning. Something about my dad not being good enough for her and she slammed the door in his face, taking all her things. I remember that distinctly, it was the first Wednesday after my 10th birthday.

I guess he missed her too.

"Oh?" I straightened up. "What happened?"

"I ended up throwing up on her shoes." He smiled fondly.

I choke on my drink.

"Total ladies man move there, dad!" I laughed.

"Yeah.." He fake coughed. "So your friend? What's he like?"

Absolutely awesome. "He's pretty cool."

"That's what I like to hear." Dad took a drink of his iced tea.

I wish I was more honest with my dad, maybe I could tell him I'm gay and that I do chores 10 minutes before he gets home because I was too busy watching Doctor Who and looking up when the next comic-con was. It's not that dad's a bad guy who would hold a grudge against me, but I'm afraid he'll start treating me differently. It's like when you get your haircut after having the same style for years and people have to "get used to it."

Sometimes I feel like just getting on a bus and telling the person next to me everything about my 15 years of living, them not being allowed to say a word. Just sit there and listen to everything I had to say, no matter how much they probably didn't care. I could be like Forrest Gump or something, but less inspiring and not as attractive.

That night I unplugged the phone from the kitchen counter and set it up by the nightstand beside my bed, I was holding the paper Arthur gave me the first time I talked to him, his phone number. Now that his mom new me (maybe his dad did too), it'd be easier to explain why I was calling her son at 1 am. Friends do that right?

Thankfully it was Arthur that picked up the phone.

"Really Alfred? It's 1 am. You better be dying." He complained after that first awkward exchange of "Hello?"

"I am though, Arthur," I placed my hand on my chest and sighed dramatically. "Dying to be with you."

I heard him coughing like he swallowed his spit and could tell he was smiling. The thing I loved about making Arthur laugh was that it was a lot more pleasing than making a whole crowd laugh. Also, his laugh was very posh-sounding and really nice to hear. Except right now it just sounded like his goldfish died and he was crying about it.

"Alright," He breathed. "Why'd you call me? I'm rereading Macbeth and he just killed the king."

Its Saturday and I sorta miss you in the most innocent way possible? "My dad's asleep and I'm wide awake."

"Go to sleep."

I turned off the lights and hid underneath my blue bed covers. "No."

"Fine then." That's when his smartass self thought it'd be funny to start reading that dumb Shakespeare crap out loud.

"Methought I heard a voice cry "Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep," the innocent sleep..."

"Arthur no."

"Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care, the death of each day's life, sore labour's bath,"

"I'm going to punch you." I yawned with the phone at my side on the pillow.

"Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, chief nourisher in life's feast-"

I never thought I'd ever hear a voice I could fall asleep to. No matter how much I hated that I did, it was like jumping off a building with a smile on your face and the stars shining brighter than they ever could.

I woke up again three hours later after Arthur finished reading, being all butthurt that I had fallen asleep on him.

Now, waking up to that same voice yelling at you felt like being french kissed my a lawnmower.

AN: I hope you liked it! I'm having fun writing as Alfred. I can use my humor with his narration.

Also, I have a tumblr ( ) just for my writings, and on there you can find other things like poems, drabbles, and one shots.

Please review! Thank you for reading :D