For Animefanreader402, who requested a Helga story along the lines of hurt/comfort and Romance. No plot was given, so I hope you like what I came up with :D
Helga could fix a car. She'd promise to high Heaven that she knew how to fix a flat tire, she knew how to change the oil, and she could do her brake fluid and transmission and everything else. She could fix it. But she had to know what hell was wrong with it.
She stamped her foot on the pavement, the frustration coursing through her tired body. The clouds overhead where already turning dark, and the forecast predicted that once that rain started tonight, it wouldn't let up for the next couple of weeks. This week would be a smattering of small showers, but once Sunday came, it would be one of those storms that would keep everyone in for the next chunk of days. Helga had even planned this entire trip to coincide with the rain. She had left early, packing the car with everything that was important to her that would actually fit. She'd started the trip the day Jason had left on his business trip, knowing he would be getting home the night the storm started after being gone a week. She'd waited long enough for him to turn at the stoplight before throwing everything in the car and hightailing it out of there. He was crazy if he actually expected her to be there when he got back. Then she had started the seventeen hour drive to Hillwood.
A ripple of thunder shook overhead, and she once again leaned over to peer at the inner workings of her battered vehicle. He'd taken his car to work, as always. He wasn't good with sharing. She'd been left with this piece of junk every day for the past few years. Eventually, she'd learned how to do all the minor adjustments on it. She had made it work. She'd made it useable.
Jason really is a nice guy. Well, at least in public anyway. And considering she'd met him at university, it'd been a rather public meeting. Casual conversation in the cafeteria, nothing special, really. He was going for literature, like her, and she'd found herself taken in by his knowledge of authors and style. Okay, so he was no Arnold, but no one would ever be, but she figured she'd give it a shot. Arnold was hours away, and when they had talked, he sounded really happy about the girl he was dating at the time. They'd drifted apart, gone separate ways with their friendship. They hadn't really spoken since she and Jason started to get serious. He'd called her to ask for her address a few months back, saying Phoebe had been trying to get ahold of her. Which was true, but Helga ignored her calls because she felt too ashamed and angry to answer them. Phoebe would be the first of the group to get married. Helga had finally got the invite. It was schedule for next month. And dangit, she was going to go. She had even picked and packed the dress wear.
Jason was only two years older than Helga and they'd hit it off really well. After a year of dating, they'd finally moved in together. And it made Helga sick to think how much she actually had liked the guy. Then stuff started to go sour these past six months. He'd be gone late a lot, but she was often late too and didn't think much of it. She worked at a newspaper, and the hours were late when big stories were coming out. But then she'd started to notice little things. Rumors around the office. New clothes in his closet. Once she been sneaky an opened a credit card bill, furious to find that there were bills for florists and restaurants she had certainly not been to. There where little calls at night, the even more noticeable lack of affection. Then there had been the big discovery, the day she had taken off from work. She hadn't told him about it of course, it was going to be a surprise. She'd got some nice lingerie, though she hated the stuff, and was getting ready for him to come in that night. She heard the door open and started down the stairs, stopping mid step as she saw him already very well engaged in the very activities she had planned with another woman.
But the wedding invitation, that had been the official turning point. He wasn't going to let her go. He didn't think she needed the time off of work. And that's when it finally occurred to her that she needed to get out. She needed to get out, and not go back to that place ever again. She packed what little she owned away in boxes and loaded the car down. She was set to leave, and she was going to. If he wanted the other woman, fine, he could have her, but he wasn't going to have her and Helga both. And now here she was, stuck on this stupid back road with no cars and it about to rain. The tears were starting to prickle behind her eyes, but she refused to cry. She refused to allow herself to cry since this whole thing started, and she was not going to start now.
She was Helga G. Pataki, and she deserve better than this.
The first drops of rain started to patter against the hood of the car and against her face. She shielded her eye with her arm, trying to not let it get in her way while she assessed the car. She was close enough to walk, she supposed.
Helga yelped, almost smacking her head against the hood of the car as she heard a horn blow from the road. She frantically searched the area, sighing when she noticed an old truck pulling up behind her car.
The owner of the vehicle slid out easily, crunching through the leaves by the side of the road. She merely waved, still poking and prodding at the car.
"Need help? I can-" he began, stopping suddenly. "Helga."
Helga felt her breath catch immediately. Not yet. She wasn't ready yet. She looked up, her eyes widening as she saw Arnold standing in front of her, a battered tool box in his hand. Her looked almost as shocked as she did, then his look changed. Immediately, she turned her face away, pulling up the collar of her beaten jacket to hide her face.
"Um, hey…. Arnold. I don't know what's wrong with it, I-" she began, gesturing to the car.
He cut her off, enveloping her in tight hug. She was immediately embarrassed, feeling the heat rush to her face. She knew he had seen it. It was in his eyes as he moved.
"Why didn't you come sooner?" he asked, his voice rough against her ear. It was strange how pain drew people together.
"I'm fine, I just tripped," she fumbled, feeling the tears stinging at her eyes again. Her arms were limp at her sides, unable to bring herself to hug him.
"Don't lie," he said softly, pulling back and gently turning the left side of her face to him. She'd gotten a good punch to the eye that morning. She'd chosen that moment to confront him about the entire incident, and everything had come out in a nasty light. Sure, they'd had an argument the night she saw them together, but this argument was the breaking part. He had to choose. She had pressed too many wrong buttons, which only cemented her will to leave. The bruise was just starting to swell. "Who hit you?"
"No one-"
"It's that guy, right? The one the answered the phone when I called? Phoebe said she never like him when you were in school."
"Look, I don't want to talk about it right now. I just want to fix my car and get out of here," she snapped, crossing her arms and jerking her face from his touch.
"I'll call a tow truck when we get in town, ride with me," he offered. She knew he was right. The rain was already picking up and there was no way they could fix the car in it.
"All my stuff, let me get my boxes," she muttered in consent, pushing around him and pulling her few meager things from the boxes in the seat and moving them into the truck.
She looked straight ahead as his truck sputtered to life, not looking back at the old car that was left behind. Let him find the car. It would lead him to absolutely nowhere.
"How often does it happen?" She dared a glance over, noticing his knuckles were white against the steering wheel.
"What, no how are you? How have you been?" she remarked sarcastically, shaking her hair out from her coat. She wasn't ready to get into this yet, not with Arnold. She hadn't even talked to Phoebe yet.
"How often?"
"It…it varies," she stated, fiddling with the zipper of her jacket. "I mean this was the first serious time. We had a fight."
"What kind of fight?"
"One that's not your business."
"If you got hit over it, it certainly is."
"So maybe…he might have cheated on me," she muttered, fiddling with the zipper of her jacket.
"Helga!" She flinched as his voice raised, and he instantly looked at her with pity. It sickened her to see him look at her like that. She didn't want to be the girl that got pitied. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault," she muttered bitterly, pulling down the visor to peer at the bruise. It really didn't look too bad, he was making a fuss over nothing.
"Where am I taking you?" he asked gently, having the decency to not stare as she assessed herself.
"To a hotel."
"You could just stay with me."
"Not that kind of girl, buddy."
"I mean in the boarding house," he replied, grinning slightly. "We have extra room. No need to pay for a hotel."
"I don't want to impose," she lied. Actually, she desperately wanted to stay at the boarding house. Though the majority of the time spent there was brief, it had always had an air of comfort to her. And it had Arnold. Sitting here in the cab with Arnold, though a bit tense, was already making her feel better. Just seeing him made her feel like she was her old self again.
They didn't talk much the rest of the ride, not about anything serious. He pulled the truck around the back, then he'd carried her few boxes up the stairs for her, placing them on the bed in one of the empty rooms. After a bit more awkward small talk in which he was kind enough to not mention previous events, he told her where the shower was if she wanted to use it. She thanked him, watching as he exited the room.
As soon as he closed the door, she plopped down on the bed and rummaged in her boxes for the ratty pair of pajamas she had packed. They were soft and white, though worn and frayed. A simple button down top and shorts. Phoebe had bought them for her on her twenty second birthday. They were about two years old now, but she didn't care. Tossing them over her arm, she marched down the hall and, after knocking, locked herself in the bathroom. The water was warm and she felt some of the knots in her back start to relax. It felt good to be here and not have to worry about Jason getting home. She hadn't left a note or anything for him, but she still knew he was smart enough to figure out where she'd gone. Maybe by then she'd have figure out her next course of action. She was lucky she had gotten this far. She finished up the rest of her regular shower routine and made her way back her room quietly. Slipping inside, she could feel the chill creep over her body. She quickly went and adjusted the small wall heater, pushing one of the large recliners over. One of the boxes was packed with books, and she had just picked one out when a knock came on the door.
"Come in," she called a bit hesitantly, tucking her legs underneath her.
Helga caught breath as Arnold let himself in, a blanket over one arm and a tray in his other laden with cups and a large bowl. She knew people would think she was crazy, mooning over a guy after the relationship she was just in, but they didn't understand. Arnold was always first in her head, and he still was. She'd always feel that way when she saw him. It wasn't something that just goes away.
"I brought you some soup, and some cocoa and tea. I also brought a blanket and some medicine." He smiled kindly, walking over to set it on the table that was next to the tiny kitchen. She pushed herself up from the chair, moving to the table.
"You didn't have to do that," she managed, smiling. She couldn't remember the last time someone had made her supper.
"It's no problem," he assured her as he unloaded the tray. "If anyone deserves to be waited on, it's you."
She knew it was meant as a compliment, but it still stung. However, she just nodded, pulling out her chair to sit. Picking up the spoon, she stirred the soup thoughtfully. The last time she had seen Arnold was High School graduation, years ago. She hadn't even been back to Hillwood since then till now. He'd been popular enough, and they'd gotten along well enough when Gerald and Phoebe started dating. Arnold and she had sorted out their differences, and they'd kept in contact up until Jason. She supposed now he would accept that as an explanation, but she still knew it wasn't right.
"I'm sorry, you know, about falling off the face of planet like I did," She managed with a shrug, still stirring the soup.
He looked over at her as he sat across from her, leaning on his fists. "No need to be. It wasn't your fault. You…you found a guy." His smile faltered at the end as he darted a glance at her eye before he directed his attention to the saltine crackers he had brought on the tray.
With a sigh, she put the spoon down and looked at him across the table. "Just say it like it is, okay? He hit me. He was a jerk to me, and that's that."
"So you broke it off with him then?" he asked a bit hopefully. "You're out of it?"
"I left, if that's what you mean." She left her gaze fall the table.
There was a pause. "So you didn't actually tell him, you just left."
"I didn't know what to say," Helga stammered, watching as the water from her hair was slowly seeping into her nightclothes. "I was just really mad about that other woman. I mean, I spent a good few years of my life with this guy only to find out that he's been seeing someone else. And for the past damn year at that." She exhaled heavily through her nose, feeling the anger all over again.
"Helga-"
"Don't use that tone of voice with me, Arnold," she snapped. She was getting sick of all these soft pity tones. "Just come out and say I should have seen the signs. I should have paid more attention. That something must be wrong with me." She had told herself over and over not to cry. It wasn't worth it to cry. She was so angry and confused she didn't know what to do. But no matter what she said, when Arnold looked at her, she finally lost it. Pushing herself up from the table, she stomped to the door, pulling it open and forcefully pointing. "Please get out."
He opened his mouth to speak, but got up from the table to make his way to the door. He paused, taking a deep breath. "Look, I-"
"I said get out!" she hissed, glaring at him. The tears where starting to squeeze from the corners of her eyes. He needed to leave.
"You could just talk to me, you know," Arnold pleaded, holding out his arms. "I'll help." When she didn't make a move, he took a hesitant step forward before enveloping her in another hug. "Just let me try," he suggested gently.
"I don't want your pity!" she wailed against his chest, hitting him with her fists. He gently pushed the door shut with his foot so her cries wouldn't echo into the hallway. She continued to scream and cry at him until she absolutely spent, and the entire time he just stood and held her. She'd held all her rage and hurt in the entire week, not wanting to feel weak. But it felt good to just vent and actually feel something other than bitterness. When she was finally spent, he gently moved her to where her chair was next to heater, then brought her the cocoa from the table. It was still lukewarm, and she sipped it, saying nothing. Her eyes felt dry and puffy now, but she didn't care.
"It's not your fault, Helga. He's just and idiot," he said finally, drumming his fingers on his knees. "I'm disgusted with him. I'm disgusted that he thought it was okay to treat you like you weren't special. He should be thankful that he had your affection for even a minute. He should be on his knees begging for your forgiveness, and he doesn't even deserve that. Only a coward would treat someone like that. He's a disgrace to the rest of us men."
Helga held the cup tightly in her hands, unsure of what to say. "I'm nothing special," she said finally.
"No, Helga, yes you are," Arnold said firmly. "You are smart, and you're dependable, and you've worked hard. You don't deserve to be treated like that. You're important to Phoebe, and Gerald, and everyone else here. You're important to me. Okay?" He had moved to crouch in front of her chair, taking her hand in his as he spoke.
"I…okay," she replied, desperately wanting to believe him.
"Okay," he said, smiling. "Smile for me, please?"
She couldn't help but grin as his urging, shaking her head. "How about we change the subject? Why don't you tell me about that girl you were dating, what's her name? Sarah. Give me faith in romance."
"Oh, we broke up about a year ago," he responded, adjusting himself so he was seated comfortable in front of the chair as well as the heater.
"Oh?" she inquired, hoping her voice didn't betray the elation she felt. SO he was single. He was available. He was right there in front of her, and she could feel her hormones start to wake up. Jason hadn't touched her in months, and she wasn't made to receive only half hearted kisses.
He shrugged in response, sighing. "Yeah. She was a nice girl, but she started hinting at marriage. I wasn't ready for it yet, at least not with her. It felt….wrong. So I broke it off. I couldn't string her on, letting her think I would eventually pop the question."
"Well, that was the honorable thing to do," she assured him, nodding resolutely.
He turned to smile at her, laughing. "Well I'm glad you think so."
Shaking her head, she pushed her wet hair back over her shoulders, the mid back length mass leaving a wet trail down the front of her shirt. There was a brief silence before Arnold slid out of his over shirt and extended it to her, quickly averting his eyes down to the floor. "You might want to put this on," he muttered sheepishly.
"Why?" she began, but the moment she saw his gaze flitting between her shirt and the floor, she immediately blushed. Nothing like a girl in a wet, white shirt to calm a conversation down again. "Thanks," she commented, quickly sliding into it and buttoning it up.
"Not a problem," he remarked, sitting back on the edge of the bed.
"I bet he wouldn't have noticed," she frowned, fingering her cup lightly.
"What do you mean?"
"I went and bought some black lingerie for him. I came down the stairs in it. He was sucking face in the doorway when I came to the landing. He gave me half a glance. He spent more time telling her bye than he did in the room with me that night."
"You buy lingerie?"
"Is that really all you got from that?" she scoffed, turning to frown at him.
"No, I mean-well. We've established he's a jerk. Do you want me to go punch him? I'll go do it," he continued to tease, making her laugh. He had knack for making her feel better. He always had.
"We aren't together, and I don't need his permission or approval anymore anyway. He can go play with her all he likes. I hope he gets a disease," she observed with a hint of bitterness. She drained the last of the cocoa and stood to take it to the small kitchen.
"You may get lucky," Arnold laughed, pushing himself up from the floor. "Look, you know I'm seriously sorry about all of this. You deserve someone better."
"I hear ya," she said, shaking her head as she plodded over to the door to let him out. "Hey, thanks for the room. I owe you one." She gave him a half smile.
"No problem. You needed it."
"Still.."
"You'll think of a way to repay me. I'm sure."
The rain had cleared for the night as she crawled into bed. She was catching snatched of sleep, stealing bits of rest before being awoken by Arnold in her dreams. She hated how just seeing him for a short amount of time had her wanting him like she did. She'd felt this way about him for a long time, but it was different this go around. Now she knew what it was like to be touched, and what it was to touch someone you wanted in return. And there had never been anyone she wanted more than Arnold. One of the main reasons she'd stopped talking to Arnold when she had Jason started dating was because she didn't want to have thoughts like this about Arnold while she was another man. She'd need the clean break.
But now things were broken with Jason, and she could fantasize. And she was, and it was leaving her writhing in the heat. She kicked out the tangle of sheets, walking to the kitchen and getting a glass of water. It was going to be a long night.
And little did she know what a long two weeks it would be that would follow. The first few days they made a silent agreement to not talk about Jason anymore. She helped around the house and did various chores in return for her room. She went and did errands with him, such as grocery shopping and getting supplies for the hardware store. Occasionally they'd stop for food, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this happy about anything. But when Sunday rolled around, they were moved into the boarding house to stay for the duration of the storm. The more rain fell and the loner they were cooped up together, the more she yearned to touch him. When they'd stretched out on his couch to watch movies, when he'd brushed her hand when she helped him with the dishes, even when he was doing work to repair ceiling leaks she felt guilty for wanting him like she was. She felt ashamed at how quickly she'd moved on from Jason, but she knew deep inside that she hadn't loved him, she'd only wanted to. She refused to answer his phone calls, ignored his texts and voicemails. It was on the night marking her two weeks in the boarding house when she finally got up the nerve to do something. The morning's events had given her sufficient signs to make a move.
The morning had starting regularly enough. After breakfast, Arnold had noticed a few repairs that were needed, promising his grandpa he'd get to them. Eagerly, Helga had offered to help. The store room where all the extra wood was kept was a bit small and cramped, and smelled just a bit of mildew.
"If you'll get the caulking guns down, I can get the toolbox and we'll be set to go," he instructed, nodding his head as he thought over what had to be done.
"I'm on it, captain," she replied with a mock salute, spying the guns up on the top shelf in the back. Helga was a tall girl, but she couldn't quite reach without a bit of help. The lower shelf seemed sturdy enough, but still it was just centimeters from her reach. She pulled herself up, her feet barely on the shelf as she closed her fingers around the guns. Just as she was about to step down, the shelf gave way beneath her. To her credit, she didn't scream, but the sound along had alerted Arnold. He just did manage to grab her by the arms and pull her toward him as the various items fell across the floor. She cringed, smiling apologetically as she heard glass make contact with the hard floor where she had previously been.
"Sorry, I couldn't reach-"
"You could have asked," he scolded her, his fingers combing through her hair and over her arms as he checked for cuts.
"I'm fine, really!" she protested, laughing. "It's just a scrape."
"You busted your lip," he observed, ignoring her. He dabbed her lip with his thumb, his face intent as he concentrated.
"I think you're just over reacting, Arnoldo," she said with no real muster, allowing him to continue running his finger over her lip.
"You should be more careful," he chuckled, moving his hand to cup the side of her face. "Your eye looks much better now."
"Well, everything heals with a bit of time."
He made a noise of agreement, angling her face closer to his. She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks as she willed him to go ahead and close the short distance between them. He was already so close. But he quickly coughed and pulled back, and the moment had been lost.
They'd spent most of the days together, Arnold glad to have a friend his age to talk to, and her simply enjoying his company. So that night when she knocked on the door, he answered with a grin, ushering her in.
"Couldn't sleep," she explained a bit nervously, looking up to watch the rain as it pounded against the glass.
"Yeah, it's been thundering pretty bad tonight," he agreed, pushing the door shut and going to plop down on his couch. He was dressed in flannel pajama pants and a worn muscle shirt, his hair disheveled. Come on ol' girl, she coached herself, don't be a baby.
"You cold?" he inquired curiously, tilting his head as she pulled the bathrobe she was wearing even tighter around her.
"Just a bit," she confessed, forcing herself to walk and go sit down on the couch next to him. Now that she was actually in here with him, it seemed like such a stupid idea. She had never been one of those girls with the confidence to pull this off. It was a good idea, but a good idea in theory only. She bit her lip, not really processing what the people in the movie were saying. Her heart was beating so loudly she just knew he could hear it from where he sat next to her, sipping his soda and peering at the tv. They'd watched movies just the night before, and it had been so easy to just relax then. Immediately, she could feel the embarrassment coursing through her. She was jumping the gun with this. Maybe she'd misinterpreted the looks he'd given her as she helped him around the house, as she helped cooked. The almost kiss earlier had definitely been a fluke. Had to be. He wasn't even acknowledging it.
"Something wrong?" he asked as she fidgeted, her attention now on her loose hair. She'd even styled it slightly after her shower, the loose waves falling around her shoulders. He leaned forward, raising a curious eyebrow. "Are you wearing make-up?"
"Psh, no," she countered hurriedly, waving him off. It was an outright lie, she'd done her best to copy the 'natural' look out of an article she read online.
"You look a bit different," he pressed as he scooted, trying to search her face. "Maybe it's your hair."
"Yeah, probably. Um, I'm just going to go back to bed, okay?" she gushed, chickening out completely.
"Alright," he said slowly, leaning back. "You need me to walk you?"
"I'll be fine!" she squeaked, bolting up from the couch. She'd failed to notice Arnold had managed to scoot onto the edge of her bathrobe, and she had purposely not tied the sash around it. The initial plan was to sashay in and throw the damn thing off, but it hadn't worked. But it was certainly off now, and she was left standing in her skimpy lingerie, her back to him. The entire thing was lace, a little flouncy see through top and high cut underwear. She figured it was expensive; she wanted someone to appreciate it. But at this moment she was burning in embarrassment, wishing she had never bought it in the first place.
Her mind was racing a mile a minute. Should she turn around? Could she even look at him? Maybe she could convince him she slept in it. Or maybe he wasn't even paying attention. She could just grab the bathrobe and run like a fire was on her heels. No, she would play it cool. Act like this was an intentional joke. Gritting her teeth, she spun around, jutting out her hip and placing her hand on her on it.
"May I have you attention," she said animatedly, ignoring the heat in her cheeks. She couldn't look at him, instead she fixed her gaze at the wall above him.
"You already have it," he managed, his mouth agape and his eye wide. She dared a glance down, watching as he tried to be polite and stare at only the floor, but he was failing miserably.
"Just curious," she continued, reaching down to tug at the bathrobe.
"He ignored you in that?" he asked incredulously.
She winced before giving him a half smile. "I thought I might have been doing something wrong."
"Right. You're certainly doing everything…everything right," he stammered, his knees bouncing as he directed his attention with full force at the TV.
"If you're going to look, then get it out of your system," she said, biting her lip as she tried not to smile widely. He'd actually noticed.
He seemed to consider the offer for a moment before jumped up for the couch, allowing himself one full sweep before groaning and placing a hand over his eyes, the other hand in a fist against his leg. "I'm sorry, I'm kind of confused. I don't understand what's going on."
"I might have mixed up some things," she muttered sheepishly, starting to slip the bathrobe back on. She felt her heart jump as he reached out to pull the bathrobe from her hand and deposited it on the floor behind him.
"Mixed up some things?" he asked, his voice a bit husky as he closed the distance between them slightly. "What things?"
"I just thought, earlier," she managed, feeling her breathing quicken as placed his hands on her shoulders, running his hands down her arms. She lost all train of thought.
"Your cuts barely noticeable," he noted, once again rubbing his thumb over her lips. The way he was looking at her sent a thrill up her spine. It wasn't like when Jason had looked at her.
"Mhm," she hummed in agreement, parting her lips slightly, taking another step forward.
"Helga, I don't-" he began hesitantly, sighing. "This isn't something you need to do, you know. I..I liked you already, you didn't need to do this to get my attention. Though it's certainly appreciated," he clarified, "I don't want you to feel like you have to prove something to yourself about how beautiful you are. I don't want you to…to regret this."
"I will regret a lot of things in my life, I'm sure," she muttered, taking a deep breath an officially closing the space between them. "But not this. Never this." And with as much love and passion she could muster, she kissed him.