American Beauty, American Psycho

American Beauty

Alfred had been having the greatest dream of his life; or, well, of the whole night. Great things always happened to him, and he couldn't decide which ones were the best.
He'd been riding a majestic, over-sized eagle through a field of Star-Spangled flowers, and he was allowed to scream as loud as he wanted without being shushed by England because "screaming in a world meeting provokes guards" or yelled at by Germany because "screaming in public places for no reason isn't appropriate."
But then the bright blue sky turned dark, the flowers wilted instantly, and his eagle disappeared. He'd fallen into the middle of the dead field, and darkness began to itch at him like an ugly sweater. He didn't know what the feeling was, but he didn't like it.
Alfred began to stir in his sleep.
At least he had something to do in that field. He picked at the dead flowers, propping them up together so they stood tall again. He then took the remaining flowers and arranged them in the American flag. Grinning, he stepped back from his work.
The flowers shriveled and shrunk into the ground, and the darkness got a pitch darker (if that was even possible). Alfred whimpered softly. The darkness felt choking, restraining, cold, and cruel...he needed out. How would he ever escape?
Alfred whimpered in his bed, and squirmed.
"Get off of me! Get away!" Alfred tore at his skin and tried to run from the darkness. There was a feeling, a feeling he couldn't place, that was eating away at him; he struggled to think of it, as his mind was racing. He needed someone there for him; who was he trying to find? "Anyone! Please help!" Alfred cried, but the darkness wouldn't listen. It was suffocating, it was horrifying, it was...it was...
Lonely.

Alfred shot up in bed with a screech, but smashed his head directly onto something. In a moment of disorientation, Alfred thought he'd been sleepwalking, and hit his bookshelf. He grunted and rubbed his face, but to his surprise, when he opened his eyes...
There was a pair of bright red ones staring back at him.
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Alfred didn't know what to do. Scream? Call a guard? Fight? Fight.
Alfred growled and swung a wild punch, but it was stopped by a hand almost anticipating his move.
"Thought you'd try to slip that past me, huh?" A thick New York-New Jersey accent sneered at him, and the hand on his wrist then moved to his mouth to keep him silent. "Listen, you don't wanna know who I am, you don't wanna know why I'm here, and I don't wanna get to know you. So why dontcha just hop back in bed, I'll leave, and we'll pretend this never happened, right buddy?"
Alfred was frozen in his place with bewilderment and adrenaline. He nodded gently, and the hand let him go and guided him by the back of the neck into his bed. "I have to ask...I have to know...who are you? What's your name?" Alfred whispered into the darkness.
"Nothin you wanna get to know. Nobody wants to get tied up with me. I'm your worst nightmare," Allen hissed back at him, sexually feeling the wall for the doorway. Instead, he accidentally hit a light switch, and the room was brought to life.
As soon as their eyes made a connection, both boys stopped and stared. There was something in Allen's eyes that Alfred couldn't quite place either...ferocity? Anger? Hatred? Those all tied into one thing...
Alfred squinted. The glint in his intruder's eyes seemed familiar. Before he could mention it, though, Allen had gone from the room.
"No," Alfred whispered. "You've become my favorite dream..."