I remember when I was young, I used to be able to run downstairs in the morning and find Arthur cooking us breakfast. He always seemed to know when I was there no matter how quiet I was. Now adays when I visit Arthur at his place, I still run downstairs quietly to try and see if Arthur is making us breakfast like he used to. He never is. I always sigh and head back up to my old bedroom where I would pretend to be asleep until Arthur came to wake me. I always get my hopes up, only to have them crushed again and again. But I continue to wake up early and head downstairs like a child again, looking for Arthur. If only he could see how much it hurts me to pretend like everything's alright. Because it isn't, the way that I feel about Arthur is something that he would push away and never accept, if I told him, he would most likely push me away.