A/N: Super sorry for the super long delay, I have no real excuses besides an impending move to another state, trying to find a new job down there, living arrangements so on and so on. Again, super sorry for the long delay :(
hope you guys can some how forgive me! Ill start with this chapter!
Disclaimer: Still not mine :(
Feeling her voice scratch like sand paper against her throat as she awoke, was enough to have what was a slight groan, erupt into a full roar as the sharp pain in her throat only got worse the more she felt her vocal chords vibrate from it.
She was awake, but her eyes refused to open for a moment of halfheartedly trying to open them. With her right cheek being buried into her pillow, she could feel the slight crust of dried drool on it, and as she shifted her head slightly, she found a residual dampness to the spot just below where her mouth had been. Upon sudden realization, she grimaced and her brow scrunched together in disgust.
"Eeewwwwww!" She called out into the room, having her voice echo rather loudly. Her room never had an echo before, and come to think of it, her pillow used to be a lot plushier, and her down comforter used to have a heck of a lot more feathers than it did now, it felt sort of like an afghan now. Wait a minute...
She shot her eyes open upon a delayed realization that she had just awoken in someone elses' bed. She sprang up into a seated position, which made her head swim after a second or two. Placing her balance back on one arm behind her, and the other to cradle her forehead, she sat completely still for a long moment to get her equilibrium back. Once her brain found its place back in the center of her skull, she reopened her fuzzy eyes to survey her surroundings.
She was in what looked like a twin sized bed, with a green afghan covering her bottom half. The wall was decorated with faded floral wall paper, with more than a few water stains covering the corners. The closet in the far right corner of the room she was in was slightly ajar, but with the little light that was going into it, she could still see that it was empty. There was a window in the center of the wall she had her back to. There was a closed door in the far right corner of the wall she was facing, with a small table off to the side.
The room was vacant. And with as many horror movies she has invested time into watching over the years, she knew one thing... I'm so dead.
She looked to her right, to the bedside table, where an analog clock sat, along with a clear glass of water full to the brim. It was only when she spotted the water, that she realized how dry and itchy her throat and mouth were. She quickly grabbed the glass and took a long swing, downing half the glass in one go. She set the glass back down on the table and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
Upon returning the glass to the table, she noticed her phone sitting next to the clock, and picked it up. It was 8:34 Am. And looking back at the analog clock, it has obviously not been wound in a few years. She noticed a small plastic trashcan sitting on the floor, next to the table, with an empty grocery bag open inside. She leaned back to try and collect her thoughts.
That's when the memories from last night came flooding back to her mind. First going from Ian picking her up, to arriving at the show, to her first mosh pit. She quickly filtered through each one until she reached her last vivid memory. Seeing Ian talking to someone during a break in the show. She just couldn't remember who.
There was a creak coming from the other side of the wall where the door was, and it continued down the hall until the sound dissipated. Getting her nerves back was not going to be an easy task at this rate. She throw the blanket back and slowly swung her legs off of the bed, careful not to make any noise. The whole serial killer holding her till he cuts off her face to make a mask scenario was still fresh in her mind. There was another sound of someone coming down the hall, but at a much slower pace.
"Check the clock when I got home and realized I wasn't home. Sat where I was by the window and I'm wonderin' where did you go." The voice sang. The voice sang in sort of a muttered tone, as if he was singing to himself. Her pulse slowed upon hearing the voice, it was soft, soothing, sort of angelic, and oddly familiar. She had heard some one singing that tune once before, in the library at school. When she told him to stop, he started to hum the melody, simply to annoy her. Her eyes widened in the realization.
"Arnold?" She asked the empty room. When the creaking on the other side of the wall came to a sudden stop, a sudden wave of shock came over her. The theory that she was at Arnold's house hadn't even crossed her mind. She didn't even remember seeing Arnold at all last night, could she? When a sudden, but soft knock came from the other side of the door, her nerves went into over drive.
"Helga? Are you awake?" The voice asked.
"Uhmm," She started, just above an audible whisper. How should she handle this? What if it wasn't Arnold after all? "Who wants to know?" She asked loud enough for her voice to penetrate through the wood of the door.
That's when the door handle slowly started to turn and the doors hinges began to squeak as it slowly opened, but stopped after a few inches. "It's me, Arnold. Are you... uhm... decent?" He asked rather nervously.
She looked down at herself, and she was still in her black Bad Religion T-shirt, and her black cargo pants, but her shoes were missing. "I'm dressed if that's what you mean."
"Oh," He opened the door fully and leaned against the door jam with one leg casually tossed across the other. "I didn't know if you..." He waved his fingers in an odd pattern in front of her, probably trying to say 'got undressed' in his own from of sign language.
"If I look the same way I feel then I probably look like death." She ran a hand roughly through her hair, and turned her gaze upon her wrinkled jeans.
"No, you look great." He said with no more than a beat in between. If her nerves weren't already on overdrive, they were now. A wave of goose bumps erupted over her skin as she nervously looked up to him. "I... I mean, uhm..." He nervously began to run the back of his neck. "I... are... how are you feeling?"
Deciding to ignore is awkward chance of subject, she continued. "I little light headed." When her stomach let out a loud grumble, she looked down at herself and poked herself in the abdomen. "And apparently hungry." She heard him let out a small chuckle from where he stood across the room. "So, I take it I'm not in my own room." She looked back over at him.
"No, after we got off the bus last night, you practically begged me not to take you home. Wait, don't you remember this?"
"Last thing I remember is walking out after getting something to drink and I found Ian talking to someone." She looked over at Arnold again and he gave a slight knowing smile. "That was you?"
"Yeah, I found him half way through Streetlight's set last night at the show and he told me you were with him, that's when he told me you were drunk. He wrote down some instructions and told me to make sure I got you home safely."
Her eyes grew wide as her conversation at the diner last night shot into her memory.
"Alright, you said you can help."
"For now, you have to just let things play out."
This was a setup? Anger washed over any other emotion she had in her system as her hands scrunched together in the bed sheet. "Something wrong, Helga?"
"Huh? Oh, it's... nothing. So, how exactly did I end up here?"
"Well, after Ian told me to get you home, you and I hoped a bus back to town. But when we got off I told you which direction I thought your house was, and you flipped. You said that you'd kill me if I took you back there. And in your state, I didn't want to chance it that you were bluffing. So I took you back to my place, and followed the instructions Ian gave me, then I showed you to an empty room we had."
"What instructions?" She was still a little confused, to say the least.
"Oh," He dug in his pocket for a minute. "These." He slowly crossed over to her and handed her a small crumpled up napkin.
1) Have her drink at least two glasses of milk or water.
2) Place a small trash can or plastic bag next to a bed or couch.
3) Make sure she falls asleep either facing off to her side or facing down.
"You mentions something about being hungry?" Arnold said as she handed him back the napkin.
"I guess, why?"
"Come on, I'll make you something." He said as he turned around and started to stroll out of the room.
"You don't have to do that, football head." She felt she had intruded on him enough.
"It's alright, I haven't eaten yet either." He said, casting a glance behind him before he rounded the corner out into the hall way.
"Really, I'm fine!" She called as he disappeared down the hall.
He poked his head back in the door way. "Are you coming or not?" He didn't wait for her to answer. She didn't want to disappoint him. After all, Arnold Shortman was offering to make her breakfast! Could she really say no to that? She quickly stood up and made her way out into the hall to find him. She quickly ran out into the hall in search of him, and she looked up and down the hall, but didn't spot him.
"Hungry after all?" She whipped around at the sound of his voice. He was leaning against the wall right next to the door which she had just bolted out of, having his hands in the pockets of his blue flannel pajama pants.
"Don't push it, Arnold-o! Hey, where's the bathroom?" Helga asked.
"Take two steps forwards, and you're there. If you hit a wall, you've gone too far." He said with a smirk, and pushed himself off the wall and continued down the hall, and down the stairs at the end. She watched him hop his way gleefully down the steps and waited till he was out of sight to swoon.
As Arnold walked down stairs and started for the kitchen, he spotted his parents at the table, his mother in her robe sipping coffee and reading a book, while his father had the morning paper open in front of him, and had just put it down. It wasn't until he heard the rough wrestling of his dad's newspaper that he looked over and saw the harsh look his father was sending him. "Morning, dad." He said with a smile, hoping that he just read a bad comic strip or something.
Miles got up from his seat after folding up the paper, and walked across the kitchen to stand in front of his son a few feet away, and crossed his arms, and raised an eyebrow toward him. "Well?"
Arnold simply flashed what he thought was an innocent smile. "Well what, Dad?" Miles simply cocked his head off a little more and waited his son out. Arnold deflated and nodded off to the side and started walking out of the kitchen and into the living room, and waited for his father to join him on the against the wall on the far side. "I had to, Dad."
"You had to bring a girl home from that concert you went to last night with out telling us?"
"It's not some random girl, Dad. It's Helga, you've known her for years." He replied in an accusing tone, which made his father lean back slightly in shock.
"Alright then, care to explain why you had to bring her here?"
"When I went to the concert last night, I saw Ian there, that new kid I told you about, and I walked up to him and he told me that he was there with Helga. That's when I turned around and she was acting really weird. I wouldn't have known what was wrong with her if Ian hadn't told me. She was drunk."
"There was alcohol there?" Miles angrily asked.
"Ian told me from the people he talked to there, they mix up the drinks all the time. Helga probably didn't even know what she was drinking. I know Helga, Dad. She wouldn't do that on purpose."
"So instead of walking her home, and telling her parents what happened, you bring her here?"
"You know as well as I do that sending her in there alone would have been a death sentence for her. You know what her father is like. And I couldn't just let her fend for herself either. She didn't even know she was drunk, Dad. And I've heard enough stories in the hall ways to know how that ends. Dad if... if something happened to her, and I didn't do everything in my power to prevent it... I would never forgive myself."
His fathers figure seemed to relax and he placed a gentle hand on his sons shoulder. "I know, son."
"When I got her here, Ian told me to make sure she drank at least two glasses of water, and to make sure she got to sleep okay. So I showed her to the empty room we have upstairs, put the trashcan from the bathroom next to the bed, and I stood there until I was sure she was asleep. I think you should know me better than to know I would never take advantage of someone like that, especially Helga."
"I know, son. But she's not a charity case. She doesn't need a social worker, Arnold. She needs a friend. And as far as I'm concerned, she can't get much better than you."
Arnold smiled and looked up at his dad. "Thanks, Dad."
He walked past his father and into the entry way to head to the kitchen when he saw Helga slowly making her way down the stairs with a hint of a warm smile on her face. "Hey." He greeted. She looked up at him and she smiled back at him. He never could get over how gorgeous she looked when she would smile like that, when she was truly happy. She walked past him, and landed a playful slug in the arm as she walked around him and into the kitchen.
"Good morning, Helga." Stella greeted the teen, just getting up to go get dressed.
"Morning, Mrs. Shortman. I hope I'm not... intruding... or anything." She said rather nervously. Stella looked past Helga, and over to Miles, who gave his wife a warm smile and nodded.
"Not at all, dear. You're always a joy to have around. After all, Arnold is always on his best behavior when ever you're around." Stella said as she went past her, putting a gentle hand on the girls shoulder as she went past, and stopping to kiss her husband on the cheek before she went upstairs.
"Does that mean he behaves badly?" Helga jokingly asked as she watched her go. Stella simply shot the girl a glancing smile before she went around the corner.
Arnold was already at the stove and digging around for a pan as Helga sat down at the table, looking rather nervous.
"It's good to see you again, Helga. It's been a while since you stopped by." Miles said, reclaiming his place in front of his paper.
"Well, didn't want you getting sick of me." Helga shrugged.
"Don't sell yourself short, now." Miles said as he opened his paper again.
Arnold was moving about the kitchen, going from the fridge, getting out eggs, bread, ham, and two slices of cheese, and placing everything on the space next to the stove, all the while, having that same warm smile on his face, with that same half lidded gaze that Helga as been in love with as long as she can remember. Arnold put two pieces of bread in the toaster and moved back over to the stove, and cracked an egg open against the pan, and let the egg droop into it.
"So how was the concert last night, kids?" Miles asked.
"Oh, it was awesome! Streetlight Manifesto was amazing!" Arnold said excitedly as he flipped the egg over with ease.
"Yeah, VGS was probably my favorite though." Helga said from across the kitchen.
"Yeah, my favorite part was probably when Supernova was on though. When some one hit the bass guitar string."
"Well," Helga leaned back in her chair, threw her arm over the back, breathed on her nails, and began rubbing them against her shirt. "I do have pretty good aim."
"That was you?!" Arnold asked, as he spun around to look at her.
"Yep." They both laughed, and locked gazes for a second.
"She knows the bong note!"
"She knows the bong note!" They spoke in unison. They both erupted in laughter at the memory of the night before. Arnold had just started to put the egg on the toast, along with the ham he had thrown in the pan as they were talking, along with a slice of cheese. and place it in front of Helga.
"Wow." Helga said, eyeing the egg sandwich he had just prepared for her. "Who knew you could be so housewife."
Arnold chuckled and went back to the stove to prepare his own. "Two years and not a single yoke broken."
Helga began eating, and hummed in satisfaction after her first bite, complimenting him on his culinary skills as she continued to eat. After they had both finished, and Miles told them that he would take care of the dishes, they went back upstairs, after agreeing that Arnold would walk Helga home. Helga went back into the room she was staying in, as Arnold went up to his room to get dressed.
As she sat back down on the bed she slept in for the night, and found her shoes underneath it, she was finally left alone with her thoughts, and his words, that have been on replay in her head since she heard them.
"If anything happens to her, and I didn't do everything in my power to prevent it, I would never forgive myself."
She was probably taking his words too seriously, but she needed to believe that he meant something more when he explained to his father the situation. The pessimist inside her was telling her that Arnold would say that about anybody. But the optimist in her was telling her that he really did care deeply for her.
As Arnold went into his closet for a clean shirt, he finally had time to think. He knew that some of the events of last night would remain a secret. Helga didn't need to know that he practically had to carry her down the street last night, or that he actually did have to carry her up the stairs and into the empty room they had, after she had fallen sleep while resting on the steps outside. Helga didn't need to know that after placing her gently on the bed, and covering her with a blanket, he gently brushed her hair back behind her ear to find her still sleeping peacefully, or how just as about to exit the room, he heard her gently call out to him, with her angelic voice asking him to please not leave her.
She didn't need to know that he knew with out a doubt that, after last night, he was in love with Helga Pataki.
A/N: Big shout out to any one who can guess the song arnold was singing. Also, since this is my first post in a while, i would really appreciate some good REVIEWS! much obliged :)
