American Beauty, American Psycho

American Beauty

Alfred set out in the middle of the night, pulling his coat on and leaving his guards behind. Screw planning out his life like a love story, he was just going to do what he usually did, leave things up to chance, and go from there. That nightmare had really messed with him, and he didn't like to feel angry anyway, no matter how much that dumb redhead had hurt him. He knew exactly where to find Allen, anyway. He stopped in at a local MacDonald's, picked up a Big Mac for moral support (don't question his methods), and set off into the night. Yeah, he knew exactly where Al would be.
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A BANG echoed through the gym as Allen's fist collided with a punching bag. Matt gave him a little chuckle while practicing his slapshots into a net, and the other guys at the gym glanced at Allen. He rocked back and forth on his feet, then threw another hard punch. He let out a long exhale and grunted. He'd been trying to drop the blond from his mind, but couldn't. He was still harboring rage for Matt for scaring Alfred away, but could never act on it; nobody could know how he felt. Instead, he shoved his feelings down and punched things. Late at night. He planned to continue with it for the rest of his life, and give up on love or trying to fill his life with something valuable.

The doors burst open, and Alfred stood in the doorway. Suddenly everyone in the gym perked up from their weights and benches and other exercise machines that Alfred didn't even know existed. Alfred swallowed his fear, kept his eyes on Allen, and let his feet take him across the gym. Allen pulled off his gloves and crossed his arms, locking eyes with Alfred. Alfred bit his lip and tried to drink in the sight of Allen in his tight little tank top, soaked with sweat and cocking an eyebrow as quickly as he could. As he approached Allen, he suddenly noticed everyone from the gym beginning to close in on him. Damn, he thought, is Allen in a gang?...or do all these guys just hate me? Or both?...probably both. Yeah, it's both. Alfred chewed on his lip, and stopped in front of Allen. "H-hello," he said softly, voice cracking on the word.

"What do you want?" Allen grumbled, leaning back against the wall.

All of a sudden, Alfred's anger came back. He stared into Allen's bold red eyes, and his fists clenched and began to tremble. What if this guy was as shallow as he was making himself out to be? What if Alfred didn't belong with him? What if Allen really did hate him...then what was the sense of being here? Allen's walls had to come down. There had to be more to him than this bad-boy attitude, and Alfred was going to find it. Without thinking, Alfred raised his fist, and let his mind do the rest; he shut his eyes and felt his fist make contact with somewhere on Allen's face.
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When Alfred came to, he could smell rubbing alcohol and could hear the beeping of machines all around him. He slowly opened his eyes and immediately recognized the white, sterile atmosphere of a hospital. He glanced around slowly, and his eyes landed on Allen leaning in his doorway, back in his ripped jeans and leather jacket. He took a second to process what he was seeing, and suddenly saw a big bruise on Allen's cheek; well, at least he knew he'd made contact with him.
"Pretty good arm you've got," Allen muttered, his accent making Alfred blush. "Knocked my tooth out." He chuckled.
"What happened to me...why am I here?" Alfred whined. Allen strolled over to his bed, pulled up a chair and stared at him.
"My gang beat your ass after you hit me. I called you an ambulance."
"Oh..." Alfred felt a glimmer of hope. "Thank you?"
"Welcome. Why'd you come to my gym, anyway? Have you always had a death wish?"
"I-I...I just wanted to talk to you," Alfred stuttered, remembering how Allen looked in his tank top.
"Yeah, I've been wanting to talk to you too."
"YOU HAVE?!" Alfred sat up quickly all of a sudden, sending his machines into an anarchic state. Allen backed off as a doctor ran in and reset everything, then glared at the two of them and left. Alfred swallowed, trying to stay calm. "What did you want to talk about?"
"I dunno. I wanted to apologize for what Matt said to you, 'cause he'd never apologize to anyone. He was just tryna scare you off, it's kind of what we do."
Alfred suddenly felt a weight off his chest. Maybe Allen wasn't as bad as he thought. "What do you mean? Why?"
"Didn't you see where I live? It's the way of life. Learn to scare everyone off, learn to get girls, and rise to the top with those two things. Everything else in the middle doesn't matter."
Oh, Alfred thought, am I just something in the middle? Guess I don't matter...
"But see the thing is, I'm starting to think about that shit in the middle. You're that shit in the middle, and I guess you're worth thinking about now."
Alfred smiled a little...and then smiled a lot. Allen began to have colors exploding behind him.
"Your morphine is kickin' in." Allen chuckled. Alfred giggled. "They've really gotcha on some good drugs, buddy."
Alfred's eyes started to get droopy; he tried to speak, but it just came out as babbling. He saw Allen smirk at him, watching him with those bold, daring red eyes. He gathered his words up, and in his head he heard himself say, "I wanna see you again."; However, what he said was,
"I wanna see you naked."
Allen burst out laughing, and Alfred relaxed in bed, never wanting that laugh to end. It was genuine, and a little sweet.
"That can be arranged, pal." Allen snickered, then sat in silence as Alfred drifted off in bed. Allen sat there for what seemed like hours, until he finally stood, pushing the chair back quietly. He won't remember anything, right? Allen thought. I damn hope he won't. Allen finished his thought, leaned down, and then pecked Alfred's lips very lightly. Fixing his jacket collar, he glanced back at Alfred then walked out.

As Alfred's eyes opened a little and he watched Allen leave, a thin, drugged smile spread across his face.