Your doorbell kept on ringing.
"I SAID WAIT A F*CKING MINUTE!" you shouted with irritation on your voice. You really hate impatient people plus you have a short temper and it seems someone is seriously making you flip the whole house upside down because of anger.
The doorbell kept on ringing anyway. NOW someone is really messing with you. You stomped your way angrily to the door and slammed it open.
"WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM?!" you scowled. There stood an American with short dusty blond hair and baby blue eyes. Of course, it's Alfred F. Jones. You have been his friend for about 2 years now. You also developed feelings from him but you're good at hiding it.
"I know I told you to stop breaking the door down, but dont kill the doorbell!" you scolded him.
“Arthur is much more better than you.” you mumbled.
"__________! Let's play house! You're the mother and i'm the son!" he said as he hugged you; completely ignoring the lecture you're giving him.
"Hey! Listen to me mister!" you tried to pushed him off. You seriously tried.
"Not until you play house with me." he pouted just like a little stubborn child. You rolled your eyes. Where did he got this idea anyway?
"Alllllllll." you whined.
You knew he wont let go off you until you agree.
"Okay fine. . Just this once." you sighed.
His face lightened up and hugged you tightly with his inhuman strenght. You blushed;flustered. Aside from that he can almost crush the bones in your body.
"H-Hey. . You're crushing me. A-and let go off me you idiotic hamburger freak."
"Oh." he let go off you.
"Im sorry mother." he said with a giant grin on his face.
Your eyes twitched and sighed.
"Fine fine. . Im your mother. You better respect me." you said as you headed to the kitchen to make Alfred his favorite food. Hamburgers.
You heard him close the door behind him. You predicted he will sit on the couch and turn the TV on which, he did. You tried to set up a conversation.
He didn’t respond.
You were done. You headed for the living room to give this hamburgers to your son. You mentally giggled at that thought.
His head turned to look at you, no, to the hamburgers. He flashed a cheerful smile.
"I LOVE YA ____________!"
"Hey. . We're playing house. . So don't call me by my name you retarded son." you blurted out; hiding the fangirling you're doing.
"Ah. . Right." he came to realization. What the hell? He was the one who suggested this silly game and yet he forgets.
"Sorry." he said as he took one hamburger and took a bite on it.
"Mothersh hamfburghers arf the besht!" he said with his mouth full. You didn't really understand him but oh well.
"Didn't Arthur taught you not to speak while you're mouth is full?" you raised an eyebrow.
He gulped the food down.
You tilted your head.
"I don't remember." his voice darkening.
"What?" you crossed your arms.
"Are you two fighting again?" you gave him a questioning look.
He didn't respond.
"Hey-" "It's always him." Alfred cut you off.
"It's always Arthur that and Arthur this. You always compare me with him or ask about Arthur."
"That's not-" you were speechless. Why have you been doing that?
"Well. . I like gentlemen." you replied. You somehow regretted replying that.
Alfred was stunned. He just stared at you for a minute then suddenly his eyes were filled with sadness.
". . . . . . . So you like Arthur,huh?"
"Should have known. . . " he gave a sad smile. It somehow made you guilty.
You bit your lips. . Should you tell him now?
"The one I like. . . is you." you managed to tell him.
He just stood there. Flabbergasted. His jaw dropped. You bet he was not expecting this at all.
You blushed and cleared your throat.
"T-There." you pouted.
He soon got himself together. He cupped your chin and gave you a soft and gentle kiss.
That made you blush like hell.
He giggled like a small innocent child.
"Looks like i'm not your son anymore." he smirked.
"W-What?" you pouted;still blushing.
"I should have suggested 'husband and wife' relationship earlier." he laughed.
"WHAT?! BEING A 'MOM AND SON' IS STRESSING ENOUGH!" you blushed even more.
He laughed once again and pulled you into a warm hug.
"I love you, ________. ."
You sighed and pouted.
"I love you too, Alfred F. Jones."