Alfred: 02

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I'm sitting at the dining table with all the others. They are all digging into their food, talking among one another, except...Alfred isn't here. And I'm the only one who didn't get food yet.

Is this supposed to be some sort of punishment? It sounds like something Alfred would do, despite the notion being so childish. Did he put me here without food so I would be the point of ridicule? The others don't even acknowledge my presence; it's as if I'm a ghost.

I would go into the kitchen to see what's up but I don't want to be rude. Or have anyone yell at me. I'll have to wait, I guess. If I get up now, I know for sure that Alfred will get angry. I held my hands together in my lap to keep calm, mouth opening slightly as the others start to move. Everyone else is leaving already! Yet, I'm still sitting here.... 

That's it, I'm going to see what's wrong. He didn't eat either. I go to stand when a strong voice sounds behind me.

         "What are you doing? Sit back down, idiot."

"Alfred?"

He just popped up from nowhere!

"Who else would it be? You really are more stupid than I remembered."

He's so easy to get irritated with! But... He's holding two plates of food.

"Finally. You took forever."

"Are you being serious? You couldn't even wait a few minutes longer?"

"Everyone already ate and left, if you can't tell. I thought you were punishing me."

"...Well, I'm here now, with food. Happy?"

"Oh..."

He places one of the plates down in front of me. It's only now that I realize what it was-- homemade blueberry waffles, topped with sliced strawberries and whipped cream.

This is what I would eat every day as a child when I went over to Alfred's home. I look over at Alfred, who is now sitting across from me. He's eating the same thing.

"What? Aren't you going to eat?"

"Y-yeah, of course..."

... This tastes exactly as it did all those years back. It would be my favorite thing to eat when I was little. Did Alfred make this as an apology for hurting me earlier?

"This tastes.... really nice." I admitted, savoring the flavor and warm memory of childhood.

"Well, what did you expect? I'm the one who made it, not that idiot Arthur....I knew you would like it, anyway..."

He said that last part more to himself, but I still heard it. And... his cheeks are tinged pink. He's looking at anything other than me, currently entranced by his slices of fresh strawberries.

Maybe... he doesn't completely hate me, like I initially thought.

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