American Beauty, American Psycho

American Psycho

Hey, guys. I know it's been a long pause since I last wrote, and I feel like you should all know why. Shortly after I posted the last updates to my stories, my mental stability began to rapidly deteriorate, so I had many things, including access to the internet, restricted. Recently, I've began to get better, so I've had more access to social media and other internet perks. I'm going to try and make more updates now that I'm getting a little better, and I felt like this story should be the first to be updated since it's been such a long pause. Thank you for all your patience and continued support, and smash that vote button like it's your job :) (and for any markiplier/crankgameplays fans out there, CAN WE HIT ONE BILLION LIKES?!???)
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Allen threw his door open, a tired and angry look in his eyes. "MATT! Don't you be bangin' on my door before noon or I'll smash your teeth out," he grunted, and Matt brushed off the dry threat, knowing his brother would never hurt him. "Why are you even here?"
"To see you. I tried calling you last night, but you didn't pick up, eh? Where were you?" Matt asked.
Allen had to get his bearings straight, and fast. "I was....uh....out for groceries," he said quietly.
"We don't get groceries and you know it. Why are you lying to me?" Matt said, shoving him.
"Yeah I know. I was out clubbing," Allen said.
"Well, you look like hell, so I believe ya," Matt chuckled, and Allen glared at him. "Hey, that blond asshole just came by while I was tryna wake you up."
Allen perked up a bit, suddenly snapped out of his exhausted haze. "What? He did?! What did he say? What did he want?" Allen quizzed Matt, his cheeks flushing visibly.
"Are you...blushing?" Matt said, raising an eyebrow and flicking Allen's cheek.
"What? Me? No. I'm just not feelin' too great. So why was Alfred here?"
Matt frowned a little. "I dunno, he just wanted to know if this was your apartment. He seemed...eager or somethin'. I told him off though," Matt chuckled proudly. "Told him he ain't the shit he thinks he is. He fucked off pretty quick."
"WHAT!" Allen roared. "WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?" He was suddenly overcome with anger.
Matt backed away slightly. "'cause it's the truth? It's the message we've been tryna send our whole lives? It was what we were tryna say to him the night we broke into his rich ass place, maybe?"
Allen let out a long exhale. He couldn't let Matt know about his feelings for Alfred. Did he even have any feelings for Alfred? He felt something. Whatever it was, Matt could never know. "Uh...yeah. Sorry, I just get pissed in the morning  ya know. I haven't had my coffee yet," he grunted, "come on in." Matt entered his apartment, and Allen shut the door behind him. He came to my apartment, Allen thought, me! He came to see me! I gotta fix this shit somehow...
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Alfred shuffled through his front doors, feeling completely beaten. He hadn't even been in any sort of fighting during his excursion, yet he felt broken. His entire body felt empty, broken, apart. He felt like his arms weren't a part of him, his legs were missing, his head was detached, and his heart was completely gone. He slumped down on the couch.
"What are you up to, sir?" A guard asked.
"Oh...just...watching football," Alfred muttered, his face buried in a pillow.
"With...with the TV off and the remote on top of it?" His guard asked skeptically.
Alfred paused. "Yes..."
"Sir, are you alright? Shall we call a medic? We can't have you getting sick."
"No, no I'm fine. Just peachy," Alfred grunted, hugging his pillow close and squeezing it so hard he thought it would burst. It was everything he could do to not cry.
"Would you care for a spirited nerf war?" The guard asked, trying to engage Alfred in any kind of way.
"No." He said, shuffling back up to his bedroom, feeling like a different man than he was this morning. Fucking hell, he thought, surprising himself by starting a thought with a curse word. I can't believe I let myself get fooled by that asshole. With the hair, the eyes, the muscles...never again. He's out, he's gone. Fuck feelings. He grunted out loud. Guess I was the only one that really felt something. That stupid look in his eyes...that was anger. Anger at me. Well, he can go shove it up his own tanned ass. He blushed softly, thinking about the ass of his intruder. Uncaring fuckface or not, he was still so good looking, Alfred shut his door and thought to himself.
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Allen could not have gotten Matt out slower. When Matt finally left, Allen slid down his door onto the floor and sighed with relief. He'd spent the last hour (or, what felt like a year) trying to keep his blistering rage subtle and internal, all while listening to Matt go on and on about university hockey in his country. Allen couldn't believe Matt had scared Alfred away. Allen was so close; he could've gotten to show Alfred how he lived, protect Alfred from his world, maybe take him to the club. Allen let his mind wander to what Alfred would be like on weed. He snickered to himself, then got a beer. He knew he had to go hunt Alfred down and fix things; the problem? Allen didn't know how to fix things. All he'd ever done was meet a girl, mess around with her, leave her apartment early, then repeat with someone new. He'd never had to fix things before. He said down on his couch and stared at his blank TV screen, and began to think about what he'd say, what he'd do, how he'd act next time he came face-to-face with those sky-blue eyes again.