When The Sun Rises In The West
Arthur woke up to find himself alone in bed. That was usually the first sign that something was wrong. He got out of bed, pulled on a dressing gown, and slipped on a pair of slippers. He clomped down the stairs with a mug of forgotten tea from the night before.
Yao had his back turned as Arthur entered the kitchen. A pot was bubbling on the stove, the lid rattling as Yao chopped up some vegetables. Evenly, methodically: chop chop chop.
"'Morning," Arthur said, lightly. Testing the waters.
The chopping continued unabated.
Arthur poured the cold tea down the drain and rinsed the mug, glancing sideways to try and gauge Yao's mood. His face was porcelain, giving nothing away. His hands worked deftly from under rolled-up sleeves.
Chop chop chop.
It was a full five minutes before Yao spoke, by which time Arthur had ascertained that Yao was indeed in one of his episodic lapses and should be treated with utmost care.
"You were excessively loud last night," Yao said, his tone acidic, as he sat across Arthur at the table.
"I'm sorry, it won't happen again," Arthur said as he eyed the spread Yao had prepared.
"That's what you keep promising."
Yao was glowering as Arthur piled some bacon and eggs onto his plates. Arthur liked to imagine that there was jealousy mixed in somewhere in those hate-filled eyes.
"Quite."
They ate in silence for a few minutes with nothing but the ticking clock for company. Arthur unfolded the morning paper and lost himself in the financial news, careful to avoid meeting Yao's gaze. Experience had taught him it was best not to provide any provocation when Yao is in one of his lapses.
"So who was he?" Yao finally asked, his curiosity burning through the thin disguise of his distaste.
"No-one you need concern yourself with," Arthur said without looking up from his paper.
"That's for me to decide."
When Arthur continued to ignore him, Yao burst savagely, "It was that opium-eating whore of yours again, wasn't it?"
Arthur looked up then.
"You're not yourself," he said quietly.
The smile Yao affected had a tinge of hysteria, and he said in mock agreement, "Oh, I'm sure I'm not."
Arthur folded up the paper and set it aside. He gulped down the last of his tea and gathered together his used crockery and utensils, brought them round the table and dumped them into the sink.
"I'm sure you have a defence or two for your whore as well," Yao continued on a nasty little laugh.
Arthur spun the tap to run some cold water over his dishes. He was a little exuberant in the task and got wet all over his front. He cursed inwardly, dried himself with a tea towel. Wringed it tight as he bit back a comeback.
"I'll be in my study. I will not suffer any disturbances until tea," he said as he headed out of the kitchen.
Yao only laughed a high, mirthless laugh. "Oh do tell your whore that he is welcome to breakfast."
That made Arthur pause.
"That won't be necessary. He isn't here anymore."
"Is that so?"
Arthur turned to face Yao square on. His anger melted into a sudden aching sadness as his partner of twenty-five years stared back with unrecognising eyes.
"Yes." And in a moment of dread added, "He might never come back."
A/n: This pretty much wrote itself. I would love to develop this further so here's hoping for more ideas in the future :3