Thin Line

by WindyCanyon

For Arthur, it had been one bad relationship after another, usually with the same type of people and ending in the same type of way. Blond, rich, and easy. That was his type and look how far that had gotten him. Just another scar to add to his heart. It isn't until a chance encounter at a bookstore that he understands what being in love actually means for himself and for others.

The road turned into a blur and he focused on keeping the car on the thin line. That's all that matter. That damn line; the border between asphalt and gravel—sanity and madness—happiness and misery. The fact that his love life was in shambles and he was suffering for his own failings meant nothing. Just a drop of water in an ocean he was drowning in. He could feel it—the surface—slipping away and water flooded over his head. He was going under and nothing could save him.

The line slipped out of his grasp and his focused faltered, spinning out of his control just as the car spun. The screeching of tires barely brought him back from the dark paths of his mind in time to take control and keep the car from smashing into the barrier wall. He scrambled out of the car window and fell into the gravel, letting out a frustrated cry. Blond hair, blue eyes, and a smile that made the sun look dim taunted him and he rolled around, trying to get that face he'd cared about so much out of his head.

Finally, he calmed down and slid back into the car. The drive back to the pit was easier, but getting out and facing his friend not so much.

"What happened, Arthur?" Dark eyes stared at him calmly, almost sorrowfully.

"I spun out. Nothing major." He unstrapped his helmet, setting it on the hood of the car, and avoided looking at the other man.

"You know that's not what I'm asking."

"I know." He sighed. "Things didn't work out with Alfred. I got a call from the bank two days ago that ten thousand dollars had been taken from my account. If he really wanted to get away with robbing me, he should have taken it all. Now I just have all this useless money and a broken heart. What the hell is wrong with people, Kiku? Why are they all such...such tossers!" Arthur threw up his hands and sighed again.

Kiku set a hand on his shoulder and led him inside, out of the heat. The Japanese man radiated compassion for his pain and Arthur felt the first bit of comfort since the bank called him. They sat a small table Kiku had set up with a tea tray laid out for them.

"Perhaps you should wait before you tell them how much money you make?" Kiku pour tea into each of their cups and put a single sugar cube in his.

"Money is my best quality, though." Arthur smiled with a touch of self-deprecating humor, and sipped the tea.

"But not your only quality, Arthur."

"It takes work to show off my other qualities. At least with money, people know it's impressive."

"The easier it is seen. The less it is valued." Kiku brought the teacup gracefully to his lips, pinning him to the spot with a serious gaze.

He had to look away. Arthur knew Kiku was right, but he was too use getting what he wanted quickly and without any delay. Saying up front how much money he had was an easy way to get laid, even if he knew it would only bring charlatans and fakes. But if he truly wanted to be serious with someone, he'd wait until the time was appropriate. That had yet to occur. Most of his relationships so far started with money and ended with money.

"Well, I won't have to listen to him whine when I take him to fancy dinners anymore." Arthur sighed. As annoying as Alfred's whining was, he looked dashing in a suit and Arthur was fond of showing him off to his previous lovers.

"If you like to see it that way."

"Who am I kidding..." He laid his head on the table, thoroughly depressed. "Forget love. I'm done looking. I'm done getting my heartbroken every damn time I try to find someone."

"You're looking in all the wrong places. If you really want love, money is not where you're going to find it. Aren't your brothers enough of an example of that?"

Arthur let out a humorless laugh. "What I said goes for the whole Kirkland family: Money is our best quality."

Kiku let out a soft sigh and reached out, resting a hand on his arm. "Don't give up, Arthur. I'm sure you'll find someone you can truly love someday. That may not be soon, but you'll find him."

...

The conversation with Kiku still followed him as he drove out of the track parking lot. He didn't look too hard for love, ever. He didn't look at all. He took whoever fell into his lap and he had some interest in. It was simple. Having so much money attracted people, and it wasn't too difficult to pick someone out of the group that wasn't completely horrible. He wasn't a terrible judge of character.

First, there was Gilbert. He was wild in the sack, and Arthur liked that. But as soon as he was out of the bedroom, Arthur couldn't find a way to shut the man up. At the time, he'd been intoxicated with Gilbert's rough touch that left him craving more. It seemed natural to let the man take his car, but even he had to admit that might have been a bad idea when Gilbert didn't return for weeks and he had to call the police to get his car back.

Next was Francis. He was a Frenchman and a "reformed" playboy. For every bit that Gilbert was rough and wild, Francis was sensual and romantic. Arthur had quite literally been swept off his feet with the Frenchman's charm. He was taken with the loving gestures and addictive lovemaking. That is, until he found Francis and two women occupying his bed. He should have never given Francis a key to his flat.

After Francis, he stayed away from lovers for two years, and then he met Alfred. The boy was everything his previous lovers weren't. Alfred was young, inexperienced, naive, and incredibly sweet. Arthur enjoyed teaching the boy what he knew about sex, and basking in Alfred's adoration. For once, it was his lover that was completely devoted to their relationship and not just him. The change from being taken for granted to cared for was a wonderful one, and, in turn, Arthur showered Alfred with gifts and affection. That's where he went wrong. As the gifts became more elaborate, his feelings for Alfred grew and so did Alfred's greed. Alfred had grown in the year they'd been together. He was no longer the sweet boy Arthur cherished in his heart. He'd turned into a greedy, immature man, and Arthur could only blame himself for that.

Now that he thought about it, all his former lovers had been blonds, although Gilbert was an albino (Arthur hypothesized that he would look something like his younger brother), and had some kind of wealth. Gilbert was the successor to an airplane manufacturing company, Francis was a well-known fashion designer, and Alfred, for all his country attitude, was the heir of an oil company. That seemed to be his type: blond, rich, and easy.

Arthur sighed and turned at a light. He found himself on a little, rundown strip of shops. It was obvious he'd taken a wrong turn, but Arthur continued to cruise down the street. There were all kinds of shops, from novelty stores to little cafes. To anyone else, it might have seemed charming, but Arthur could only think of how mediocre their products were. He could probably buy everything in the stores and barely feel it when his bank statement came around. As average as most of the stores were, he found something a bit out of the ordinary at the end of the lane.

It was a bookstore, but not the kind one would expect. The shop window advertised just the word "Books", along with it repeated across the glass in different languages. He recognized Spanish, French, Italian, and many others. Out of curiosity, Arthur parked his car at little ways from it and walked towards the shop. The sign read open and he pushed open the door.

The inside was cozy and comfortable. A little sitting area was at the front of the shop, near the windows, and shelves of book extended towards the back. He saw a staircase leading to a loft area, also overflowing with books. Arthur was, frankly, surprised to see such a selection. Each shelf was labeled with a language. Some had more shelves for each language, and some were even dedicated to certain dialects. The sheer variety of the set up amazed him.

Paper shifting drew his attention away from the books, and Arthur froze. Behind a desk, a dark brunet leaned against the counter with a book in his hand. Arthur let his eyes roam over the man's sleek hair and lean body, clothed in a loose, green sweater. On the end of his nose, sat a pair of bright red reading glasses, through which eyes hidden by thick lashes stared at the page. He took a step forward and stood there, staring spell bound.

After many moments, the man finally closed the book and looked at him in veiled annoyance. "What do you want?"

He was speechless. The man's voice lilted heavily with an Italian accent and resounded beautifully. It was the type of voice that he could listen to all day and never tire of. It took him a moment to finally get a hold of himself and remember how to breathe. "I was just wondering if I could as you a question."

"My job would be pointless if you couldn't." The man tapped his fingers on his book.

"Yes, of course." Arthur glanced at the book. The title read Il Fu Mattia Pascal by some Luigi Pirandello. It was obviously Italian, and he could distinguish the man's accent as such. "If I were to invite you to lunch right now, would you come?"

"No. Get out of my store."

Arthur was taken aback, but he wasn't going to give up that easily. As some would say: Stick with what works. "What if I told you I'm a billionaire?"

"I'd call you a liar and tell you to get out of my store."

"What if I wasn't lying?" He frowned. This man wasn't making it easy for him.

The brunet gave him a withering stare."I run a bookstore. Buy a book or leave. Either way, don't bother me." He opened up the book again and went back to reading, ending any type of conversation Arthur was trying to have with him.

He didn't know whether to be offended or aroused. Arthur owned investments in some of the biggest companies around the world. People knew when he walked in a room and they all turned to look. No one ever just...ignored him.

Incredibly frustrated and a little turned on, he walked away from the cashier desk to the chairs by the windows. It was easy to relax in such a place. The smell of books permeated the air and filled his senses, and soon his anger dissipated as well. He noticed under the windows were language books, just English to something else, but Arthur suspected there were other language books in each area of the shop.

Arthur had always been fond of books, being his only contact with the outside world for a good part of his life. He had gone to an all-boy private school, which now that he thought about it, probably attributed to his sexuality. If you stick horny teenagers in rooms together with no girls for miles, incidents were bound to happen and his private school was no different. Of course, everyone was a tosser. They were all too filled with lust to appreciate anything else. It was least to say that Arthur spent most of his time in the school library surrounded by the only objects he would ever want to call friends in that dreadful place.

After that was his equally dreadful college life that consisted mostly of studying, because he was terrible at the sciences and a big school like Cambridge was wonderful at letting its students tough it out on their own. It got to the point that Arthur took recordings of each class and played them on repeat just to get some idea of the lesson. Thankfully, he was excellent at English and History, and his understanding of numbers could be considered top notch as long as it dealt only with money and interest.

"Hey, bastard."

He looked up quickly and frowned. "Why are you calling me that? Was my offer so offensive?"

The man looked a bit surprised, as if he'd forgotten about it completely. "No, I just don't know your name. Anyway, I'm closing shop for lunch. You have to leave."

"I haven't bought any books." Arthur really didn't want to go back to his empty flat and relive all those memories he shared with Alfred. That would end up with him getting drunk and the place getting trashed. It was expensive to refurbish a whole flat.

"That's not my problem. Now, get out before I get annoyed. I've been working all morning and I'm hungry." The man put his hands on his hips and glared at him. "If you really want a book and not an easy fuck, you can come back when I open shop again."

He sighed and stood. The man ushered him out and locked the door. "Excuse me, I don't me to be a bother—"

"I think we're past that point, what do you want?" The brunet had lost the glasses and looked at him with pretty amber eyes.

"You are incredibly rude to a costumer." Not that he was offended.

"Maybe if you buy something, I wouldn't be so rude. Now, hurry up."

Arthur bit his tongue to keep from lashing up. No one told him to hurry up. He'd take all day if it bloody well suit him. But that was a fight for another day. "Do you know of a tolerable food place?"

"Tolerable?" There was a twitch of a smile, but it ended in more of a grimace. "The cafe next door isn't so bad if you like fucking French food. The lady that owns it might give you a discount if you say I sent you, but she also might jack up her fucking prices if you say that too. Across the street, there's a small restaurant and their food is good. If a girl is there, tell her you know me and she'll give you a discount, but if her brother is there, he won't give you shit. And there's a Spanish place on the other end of the strip. If you even mention me, that bastard will give you free food. Is that fine?"

"That's all good and well, but I don't know who you are. I can't tell anyone if I know you, if I don't know you." He smiled slightly. All the cursing seemed less offensive coming from such a beautiful mouth. Despite being constantly pulled down, the brunet's lips were full, gentle and on the edge of a lovely smile if Lovino would relax his frown a little.

The brunet seemed to find this amusing enough raise an eyebrow and a corner of his mouth. "My name is Lovino. I've given you options. If you want to ask me anything else, it will have to wait."

"Where are you going to eat?"

Lovino visibly held back a groan. "Why should I tell you, dammit? I don't need someone following me around, because I won't give you a fucking date."

"As frustrating as that is, I'm not going to follow you. That would be immature." Yet not something he was beyond. "You seem to know the food around here and you probably won't go to a terrible place."

"I told you the best places around here. Do I need to hold your hand and walk you there too? Figure it out on your own." Lovino turned sharply and walked away.

Arthur stood and watched Lovino. Those white pants were doing wonders for that Italian, and he couldn't say he could complain much about Lovino's manners with an ass like that.

Once Lovino was out of sight, he strolled to the French cafe. It was nice enough, with spacious outside seating and white iron tables. He chose an outside table. The weather was good, and a young woman walked out to him.

"Hello, sir." She had the elegant grace that only the French possessed, but also a certain calm intelligence about her that made Arthur like her. Perhaps it was her neat braid and wire glasses that made him think that, but it was no doubt a true assumption. "My name is Monique, I am your server today and also the owner of this cafe. Here is our menu and our lunch specials. Would you like anything to drink?"

"Some tea would be lovely, and I'll just have today's special."

"Alright. Would you like you're tea to be earl grey, chai, or green?" She scribbled down his order.

"Earl grey, please."

She nodded and walked away to place the order. Arthur sat alone and enjoyed the light breeze that ruffled his hair. It was a lovely day and the cafe was quaint. Monique came back with a small teapot and a cup.

"What made you come to Cafe de Lune?" Monique poured his tea, and glanced at him analytically. "Would you like milk?"

"Please, just a few splashes." He glanced at Lovino's bookstore across the street and back at Monique. "Lovino recommended this place very highly."

Monique kept her expression carefully controlled, and he wondered if Lovino had lied about knowing her. "I see. He likes to have his coffee here. I'm glad he's giving me more costumers. One wouldn't want this place to become a ghost town."

"Of course not." He brought the cup to his lips and took a sip. "I suspect you get along well enough with the business of the bookstore."

"Oh, yes. A bookstore and a cafe next to each other make good business partners. We provide mutual benefit for our businesses. Excuse me. I'll check on your food." Monique slipped inside the cafe and soon came out with a plate. She set it in front of him. "I'll leave you to enjoy your meal."

"Thank you." He ate his meal leisurely and savored each bite. It reminded him of the mornings Francis would surprise him with breakfast and a kiss. It made the meal a bit bitter on his tongue, but it was still good food. Arthur realized in the days it took to sort out the mess Alfred made and convince his lawyer not to press charges, he'd barely eaten more than tea and perhaps a scone. His stomach thanked him for finally getting a full meal.

"I'll take this for you. Would you like more tea?"

"No, thank you. Just bring the check, please." Arthur finished his cup of tea and got out his wallet. He suddenly realized the only cash he had were hundred dollar bills. "Bloody hell..."

"Is something wrong, sir?" Monique frowned slightly, and placed the check on the table.

"Ah, can you break a hundred? I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting to go out today, and I didn't get any smaller bills," he admitted, handing her the crisp bill.

She held the bill up and examined it, and nodded. "Don't worry. This is fine. I'll have your change out in a moment." Monique walked away quickly and just as quickly returned.

He filed the way the money into his wallet. Arthur didn't bother to count the money, or even look at the check, other than to sign his name. A few dollars missing would hardly hurt him, if it hurt him at all. "Thank you. The food was wonderful. I don't think I've had food quite that good since my last trip to France."

"Of course. My chef is from France and I would have no less for my cafe." Pride gleamed in her eyes.

Arthur smiled and stood. He had a secret respect for people who took pride in what they did and the manner in which they did it. "My name is Arthur Kirkland. I believe I will be back tomorrow. Your cafe is truly charming."

Monique held out her hand and they shook hands briefly. "You may call me Monique. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kirkland."

"Please, call me Arthur. Mr. Kirkland is my late father and I'm not that old yet." He put on his most charming smile, although Monique didn't look impressed. It might have looked like flirting to some, but he was merely looking for allies in the campaign he was about to wage on a certain bookkeeper. The Italian's business cohort seemed like an excellent start in pursing a defiant adversary. She could very well be the deciding factor in his fight to conquer, if he was on friendly terms with her. "Thank you again for the meal."

From the corner of his eye, he saw Lovino unlock his door and pause. The brunet looked up, skimming over him and focusing on Monique, and raised his hand into a lazy wave. "Ciao, bella. How's business today?"

"Fine, thank you for the costumer."

Lovino glanced at him and frowned for a moment. "Anytime. We both know you sell the best coffee."

"The best or the closest?" Monique smiled slightly.

"Well, it's certainly not bad." Lovino grinned, leaning against the wall. "Have a good afternoon, fiorelina. Perhaps we'll get some coffee later?"

"Antonio would get jealous and you know it." Monique smoothed a hand over her braid, keeping her cold, intelligent attitude.

The playful grin slipped from Lovino's lips and he scowled. "Fuck Antonio. Anyway, I was asking for Marcello."

"Humph." Monique turned up her nose. "I told him my terms."

"You know he's never going to beat you at poker."

"I might make an exception if he has somewhere nice in mind, and not just dinner. I expect a restaurant of good quality and not some shabby diner like the one Antonio runs."

Lovino's grin was back. "I'll tell him." The brunet waved again and went into his shop, flipping the closed sign to open as he passed through.

Monique let out a sigh and shook her head, glancing at him. "I'm sorry for the interruption."

"It's fine. Have good day."

"Same to you, sir."

He didn't bother to correct her and walked the short distance to Lovino's shop. The bookkeeper had already returned to his place at the desk, book in hand and glasses balanced on his nose. Lovino didn't look up when he entered, his cheek resting on his hand.

Arthur approached and cleared his throat. "Excuse me."

"What?" Lovino turned the page, glancing up at him.

"Where is the French section?"

"Behind me. It takes up most of the shelves and the right wall." Lovino looked at him with interest instead of annoyance. "If you can't find a book, come talk to me and I will help you. If a certain book isn't there, I can order it for you."

"I see." He smiled. "Thank you."

Lovino frowned. "Only come talk to me if you have a problem. I don't want you distracting me from my work."

"I think that's a bit hypocritical of you to say, considering you're reading a book."

A light blush tainted the man's cheeks and he glared. "I own the place, I'll do whatever I want. I'd be a bit useless if I didn't at least know the contents of some of my books."

"Very true. Thank you again." Arthur retreated to the French section and observed Lovino's turned back. He looked through the titles absent-mindedly, focusing more on a plan of attack. His fingers paused over Le Comte de Monte-Cristo. Now, here was a man who knew how to conspire and execute a plan, although he had years to do it. Arthur pulled the book from the shelf and went to the front of the store, settling in one of the chairs. He opened to the first page and prepared his mind to decipher the words. It'd been a while since he last read French, but he quickly fell back into the old rhythm. He was a bit slower reading the French, but Arthur always did like the original version better than the translated one.

After a while, he grew tired of French and set the book aside to look out the windows. Arthur closed his eyes and sighed. He was tired. Completely drained from the week. It seemed like every time he closed his eyes, Alfred was there smiling at him. God, he missed Alfred's smile. It made him smile when they were together, but now he just wanted to cry every time he thought of it. He sighed loudly and tortured himself with remembering each smile and laugh Alfred ever gave him. It truly was painful, and the betrayal left a bitter taste in his mouth. He didn't blame Alfred, not really. It was his own weakness that made Alfred into what he became. He could only blame himself.

Even so, his heart couldn't help but yearn for the comfort in another person, or perhaps it was just a different organ that pumped blood that was yearning for comfort. Arthur looked over at Lovino, suddenly conflicted. He'd always been attracted to beautiful objects, and Lovino was no exception, but was sex really all he wanted from the man? He couldn't honestly say he wanted only sex, but he also couldn't say he wanted something more. It suddenly occurred to him the emotional turn sex could take, like in any and all of his relationships. Did he truly want to get emotionally invested in someone after losing profit in his last relationship venture?

Arthur stood up quickly. It was unexpectedly terrifying how unsure he was over this and how quickly he was willing to put out his already wounded heart. And all over some gorgeous brunet.

This is ridiculous, Arthur, he scolded himself. You're being incredibly rash. You just saw him.

It took less for you to shag that Frenchman, a little voice reminded him.

He stomp over the counter and slammed his book down. Lovino looked up at him, startled. "What the hell's your problem?"

He balked for a moment and flushed, enraptured by Lovino's surprised expression. All his previous hesitation was throw out the window of his mind and he followed the curve of the brunet's lips. "Ah...Excuse me. I would like to buy this book."

Lovino eyed him warily for a moment before turning to the computer on the counter beside him. "That would be 7.59, and we do take cards."

"That won't be necessary." He pulled a ten from his wallet and held it out to Lovino, trying his best not to look at him. Arthur couldn't look at him without forgetting everything. Not a single thought of Alfred plagued him, nor the urge to hold back in getting what he wanted. He hadn't wanted something this much since he bought out all the investors in a private clothing company that Francis worked in, and then drove the company into bankruptcy, leading to Francis' ultimate unemployment and poverty. Of course, that had been a cruel revenge, which left a cold feeling in his chest. This wanting made him feel warm and almost shy.

"Hey, bastard. Your freaking me out." Lovino poked his chest with a pen.

"Oh, sorry. I was, er, distracted." He glanced at Lovino and accepted his change.

"Whatever. Just sign this." The brunet shoved the pen and receipt into his hands.

"Yes, of course." He signed it quickly and took his book from Lovino. "Thank you. Uh, goodbye." Arthur hurried out and rushed to his car. He pulled out his phone and dialed quickly.

"Ah, Kiku. I need to talk to. Now."

...

"What is this about, Arthur? You sounded very distressed on the phone." Kiku frowned at him and took a seat.

He ran his hands through his hair and sighed. "I'm sorry this is such short notice, but I had something wonderful happen to me...or terrible. I can't decide yet." Arthur waved down a waiter and ordered some scotch.

"What is going on?" Kiku stared at him worriedly.

"I met someone."

"Already?"

"Well, I can't say I really met him. He rejected all attempts to go on a date with him, but he's beautiful, Kiku. Absolutely beautiful. I've never met someone so handsome. He's completely different from everyone I've ever been with or even met. You know what he said when I told him I'm a billionaire? He called me a liar. I can tell you one thing: That has never happened before. He even had the audacity to tell me to get out of his store when I invited him to lunch. He flat out rejected me, and then ignored me. Do you realize how amazing that is?"

"Arthur," Kiku said slowly, stunned by his rambling. "I don't think you're taking this quite like you should."

"I know, I know." He groaned and pressed his hands to his face. "I don't know what's going on. I took one look at him and I forgot all about Alfred. I even forgot my pain. I forgot everything. You should have seen him. He is glorious. Even when he's swearing, it's wonderful. I think I could die happily if he even just punched me, and I'm sure he came close a few times."

Kiku seemed startled, perhaps even a bit frightened. "How did you meet this man?"

"His name is Lovino," he mumbled through his fingers. "I took a wrong turn coming from the track and ended up on this shabby little strip. All it had were boring stores and boring cafes, but I saw this bookstore. I went in and there he was. Just sitting there, reading."

"These are strong feelings you're having just from one meeting."

"I know. It's terrifying. It's exciting. I don't know what to think." Arthur took a big gulp of scotch, ignoring the burn as it went down. "I'm at a loss on what to do."

"Ah, well...I'm not sure what to tell you. This has happened rather quickly." Kiku wrung his hands and took a deep breath. "What exactly does this Lovino do?"

"He owns the bookstore." Arthur sighed.

"What's his income?"

"Oh..." He calculated the numbers up in his head. "Probably not even enough to keep him in business."

"So, you're attracted to someone who has no money?"

"Yes, I don't think he even has a car. I certainly didn't see one." Arthur rested his cheek on his hand and sighed, thinking of Lovino's face.

"And he doesn't know you're wealthy?"

"No, he absolutely rejected the thought." He took a sip of scotch.

"And he's blond?"

"Hardly. He's tan, smooth, and brunet."

Kiku fell silent, and Arthur looked at him. His friend stared at the table thoughtfully and slowly raised his eyes to look at him.

"What?" He sat straighter. Kiku could always make him feel uncomfortable when he turned those bottomless eyes on him.

"Perhaps this is what you need, Arthur."

"I'm afraid you've lost me." He frowned.

"Well, it will be a change for you, considering what you usually date."

"Yes, of course, but he has no interest in me."

"Has lack of interest ever stopped you before? How much do you want this man?"

"More than is proper to say." He finished his drink and waved the waiter over for another. "I was sure you'd try to discourage me."

"No, not at all. What would you be doing if you hadn't seen Lovino?" Kiku glanced to his drink.

He looked away. "Yes, of course. You don't have to remind me."

"I think the distraction will be good for you, and you seem infatuated with this man. I doubt anything I could have said would have stopped you." Kiku ordered tea for them. "My only worry would be your money."

"He doesn't think I have any."

"That is what worries me." Kiku took the cup and brought it to his lips. "If you do start a relationship with this man, you'll have to eventually tell him about your money. An average person won't understand your wealth."

"Then I just won't tell him. I'll pretend to be a regular person. It can't be that hard, and that way I'll start a relationship like a normal person would."

"You can't lie through an entire relationship."

"I'll tell him, just not at first." Arthur finished his drink quickly. "If I really want this to work, I'm going to take this slow. I won't tell him about my money. Hell, I'll even wait to take him to bed."

"I'm surprised, Arthur. He must of really left an impression on you." Kiku smiled slightly.

"More than you know." Arthur stared at his empty glass and smiled slightly. "More than you could ever know."

---

So, I've had this written for a while, like since summer. There may or may not be a second chapter in the makings. Anyway, tell me what you think of it.

-Windy