Peter, as usual, chose the worst possible time to come over to visit. This time it was exponentially worse. Arthur actually yelped when he opened the door to find the grinning child on the doorstep. Peter, in turn, jumped, nearly falling over backwards.
"Whoa! What did I do?"
"Nothing, nothing!" Arthur clutched his chest. "Just ... wasn't expecting you."
"Who the heck were you expecting?" Peter asked, still stunned. "You looked like you'd seen a ghost!"
"No, my ghosts tend to walk through walls. Might have been a goblin, though. Well, come on in."
Peter's overgrown eyebrows knitted together in concern. "You mentioned goblins and didn't tell me I look like one. Are you okay?"
No. "Yes. Do you want to come in?" Please don't. Peter did, skipping merrily over to the sofa and slamming himself down on it in a way that made Arthur cringe. "Stop breaking my furniture, you little savage!"
Peter shrugged and kicked his legs back and forth. "Well, Dad said I should come over and thank you for the books and stuff you sent me." Peter's tone implied heavily that he did not appreciate them as much as Matthew had. He'd never been much for books or even TV, preferring to spend his time working with his hands; constant repairs to the Sealand fort had instilled that habit in him. Arthur was far less contemptuous of this than he pretended - learning useful skills never hurt anyone.
Arthur kept his eyes fixed on Peter's hat, not feeling up to looking him in the eye. "You're welcome. Well, you came all this way, would you like a drink?" He didn't want the child in the house any longer than necessary, but politeness was so heavily ingrained in him he couldn't not offer.
Peter did want a drink, and so Arthur ended up sitting in the armchair furthest from the sofa, making awkward conversation as Peter slurped his lemonade and scattered biscuit crumbs everywhere. Arthur was too nervous to even feel annoyed at the mess. He caught a glimpse of chocolate smeared on Peter's lip, and instead of lecturing the boy about eating tidily, mentally berated himself for looking at the boy's mouth as if he'd been intentionally leering at him. Peter noticed nothing odd about Arthur, but glanced curiously at the bookshelf, which was still full of accusing gaps where the books had been.
"Um, England, you said you were getting rid of those books because you had no room. There's plenty of room there."
"Er, well, I was going to rearrange the library, get some new books. I wanted to make sure there'd be room in advance."
Peter looked at him. "You're weird."
Mercifully, Peter got up to leave soon afterward. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief, before realising Peter was reaching his arms out. He almost never hugged Arthur, but of course he chose today of all days to do so, and Arthur couldn't refuse without making him suspicious. Bracing himself, he wrapped his arms as loosely around Peter as he could, making sure their lower bodies did not come into contact. His body did not react, but he still couldn't relax. As soon as he waved Peter off, Arthur ran for the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge. He didn't drink that often, he knew what it did to him, but now he needed it ...
NO! You can't get drunk, you idiot! You're barely in control of yourself as it is! If you're drunk, God knows what you'll end up doing!
Arthur thought it over, staring at the bottle. Before he could change his mind, he opened the fridge, took out the remaining bottles, poured all their contents down the sink, and threw them into the bin hard enough that he could hear them smash.
He slumped on the sofa, pressing his forehead into the armrest, and sobbed, feeling both filthy and pathetic. "I'm turning into a monster and I can't even bloody drink anymore ..."
Desperate for something to distract himself, he picked up a half-finished piece of embroidery and started jabbing the needle at it much too fast, making uncharacteristically clumsy stitches. The needle pierced his finger, and he looked curiously at the blood. The puncture closed instantly, but the sting remained a little longer. Oddly, he felt a little better. Hmm.
Carefully, he pushed the needle into his finger again.