Several days passed relatively uneventfully. Arthur was pleased to have Matthew returning to the shop on Monday, and he showed him the cuttings and new plants he had gathered on his walk, much to Matthew's evident delight. They talked about the usual things, and Matthew continued to come to the shop after work as normal for the rest of the week. Nothing seemed wrong, but Arthur was true to his word and kept a close eye on Matthew regardless. Arthur was not so foolish as to dismiss the words of a concerned twin brother.
He didn't notice anything at first, but gradually as they engaged in more and more conversation over the week, Arthur did recognise that there was something… unusual about his friend. Matthew would occasionally seem to forget parts of conversations they'd had the previous day and would ask him the same questions again, and sometimes Matthew's eyes would wander about the shop as though he were watching the sparrow flitting between the baskets, but when Arthur would turn to follow his line of sight there was nothing there. It was odd, but it happened very infrequently and if Arthur hadn't been watching out for it he would have missed it entirely. It didn't really seem like much cause for concern, though, especially since Matthew seemed perfectly fine in every other aspect. He disregarded it, for the most part.
Friday came around, and Matthew was sat on a stool in a corner of the shop, reading a book that Arthur had lent him about the language of flowers. Arthur himself was tending to the shop, watering and pruning, sweeping away dead leaves and preparing bouquets for display. They were both enjoying the pleasant atmosphere of the shop, and the contented quiet between them, disturbed only by turning pages, Arthur bustling about, and the ever-present trickle of water. Arthur set a number of plants about the counter, and began to prepare for creating a new bouquet. He regarded his flowers carefully, trying to visualise what the final arrangement would look like. A brief thought flitted through his mind on what Matthew would want to see in a bouquet. He glanced over to where Matthew was sat, and suddenly froze, struck by the sight.
Matthew was surrounded by bright red and yellow camellias, framed like a painting, a shaft of sunlight falling perfectly over him to illuminate his golden hair and sparkling blue eyes. His face was set in a serene half smile that seemed to make his whole visage glow from within. A curl of hair that sprang from the top of his head drifted over his face in a light breeze, and he swept it back with a small sigh, shifting on the stool to cross one leg over the other, then continued his perusal of the book in his lap. Arthur swallowed and made himself look back at the roses on the desk in front of him, his heart doing flips all of a sudden. He knew that Matthew was important to him, he was the only person aside from his own teacher he'd actually been able to spend time with. He liked Matthew a lot, he was gentle and kind, and he only ever made Arthur feel happy when he was around, and up until now Arthur had thought of him as the best friend he had ever had – the only friend he had ever had, really. But now he wondered whether it was something else entirely. Matthew had looked beautiful to Arthur just then, quite literally stunning! He shouldn't feel that way about just a friend.
A thorn jabbed into Arthur's thumb and he winced. He brought his wounded hand to his mouth to lick the blood away and glanced back at Matthew as he did so. He looked at the quiet, unobtrusive man and his stomach felt full of hundreds of copies of the fluttering sparrow. He hadn't even noticed these feelings growing; like a wind-borne seed finally sprouting and showing its head above the soil, suddenly his heart was home to feelings he hadn't even known were planted there! But despite the disbelief, Arthur couldn't deny the ache in his chest, and the unexpected realisation that he may very well be… in love?
Arthur shook his head vigorously, his face heating up and dying itself scarlet with embarrassment. No, no, no, surely not! It can't be love, can it? He hurriedly placed the roses into the vase, trying to distract his train of thought somewhat, but his eyes kept flicking back to the figure in the corner, and his mind kept circling around the question: so what was it he felt for Matthew? He could easily admit to himself that Matthew was handsome, smart, kind and just basically one of the nicest people he had ever met, but did that mean he liked him in that way? He just didn't know, but Matthew was special to him… so maybe… But there was also the question of what Matthew felt for him too. He didn't want to overstep his bounds and make Matthew uncomfortable. Oh god, what if he drove Matthew away by accident? He felt a cold shiver run through him as that thought hit him. If Matthew didn't feel the same way… he could ruin everything by telling him, and he would lose the person that meant the most to him in the world. Again.
A quiet thump suddenly drew his attention to the skylight. He didn't move for a split second of confusion, and then immediately he was diving across the room in a panic, grasping for the pole to open the window. The sparrow was flapping desperately at the closed exit, clearly trapped in the shop. Arthur reached up with the pole, absolutely shocked at himself for neglecting to leave the skylight open for the bird, and it flew out of the way to perch on the spell book Arthur had left on his chair behind the counter. It looked dishevelled and uncomfortable as it sat there waiting for the way to be cleared, and immediately it sped out of the window when Arthur drew the pole back out of the way. Arthur stood there for a moment, a feeling of dread in his stomach that he couldn't dismiss.
He looked over to the book the bird had perched on. It almost felt like an omen. One bad thing leading into the next. Arthur gulped, leaning the pole back against the wall, and warily approached the desk. He placed the spell book upon it. Everything seemed to lose definition, with the world seemingly muted and unimportant, as Arthur focussed on the book; it was the tome that contained the Dreamless Draught. Arthur tried to quell his nerves, tried to tell himself it was superstitious and silly and there was nothing wrong, but he was a wizard and he could tell when a sign shouldn't be ignored. He flicked through the book, finding the pages on the Draught easily, and began to read them again, just as he had those many weeks ago. Except this time he didn't skim, and he did not stop. He read far more text than he remembered there being. It continued on to the next page. His face grew darker with every passing word, and he clutched the book tightly. Oh no.
His knuckles were white and his blood felt cold in his veins when he finally put the book down. How could he have been so stupid!? Of course there was a catch! It was magic, why wouldn't there be? He felt his eyes sting with shame. He could already see Matthew's face, warped in anger and disgust all aimed at him for his mistake, and felt his heart twist in anguish. He gritted his teeth, fingers clawing at his chest. No! No, surely it wasn't too late. The symptoms weren't that bad yet, maybe there was still time. And Matthew wouldn't have to find out. He wouldn't have to know just how badly Arthur had betrayed his trust. He couldn't bear to lose Matthew, and he desperately hoped that he hadn't done as much damage as he feared. If he had even accidentally hurt Matthew… but he tried not to think about it; there was still hope. If Matthew stopped taking the Draught right now, then it might still be okay. It would be okay.
Arthur took a shaky breath, slowly unclenching his hands and trying to still the shivers running through them. He had to be normal. Act normal. Don't let Matthew know there's something wrong, don't worry him unnecessarily…
"Hey, Matthew?" He called, his voice surprisingly steady. Matthew looked up from the book, slightly startled, making a short noise of acknowledgement. "You're due a refill on the sleeping draught, but… I won't be making them for you anymore." Arthur internally berated himself for his wording, hastily trying to clarify himself at the shocked and worried look that flashed across Matthew's features, "I mean, you can't take them forever, right? And… I think it's best that you at least try to sleep without them for a while. Try to see if it's gotten any better, you know?" Matthew looked thoughtful for a moment, before smiling at him.
"Yeah, I guess you're right. It would be impossible to take them for the rest of my life. Well, not impossible I suppose, but I don't want to have to impose on you for it all the time." He chuckled lightly. Arthur's gut clenched with guilt; of all things, Matthew was worried about troubling him!? Tears pricked at his eyes again, but he forced them back, maintaining his composed and casual façade.
"Well, it's not really any trouble, you know. It's just time to stop using it." He smiled at Matthew, hoping the smile reached his eyes and didn't look as forced as it was.
"Yeah. It would be nice if I could sleep without it." Matthew replied with another laugh, "It's really helped me though, so… thank you, Arthur." He said quietly, his smile dazzlingly bright.
"Don't thank me." Arthur said in a low, choked voice before he could stop himself. It hurt even more when Matthew thanked him for the very thing he should despise him for. "Really." He continued, forcing himself into a brighter tone, "It was… my pleasure. Just don't forget to visit still, okay?" Arthur finished with a half-hearted wink. Matthew snickered.
"Don't worry. You're my friend; of course I will. I really like hanging out with you, Arthur." Matthew replied sincerely, causing Arthur's stomach to flip uncomfortably.
"Heh… well, if you put it like that…" Arthur smiled.
The two of them returned to their mute companionship. Arthur finished the bouquet with his heart in chaos, and considered just throwing the finished product away; it was a mess, with some too short and some too long stems, an overabundance of certain flowers and not enough leaf. But he merely sighed and placed the failed piece at the very back of the display, hiding it among the others. It felt a waste to throw such good flowers away, even when the arrangement was poor.
He couldn't concentrate on any more work that afternoon, and was glad that he had finished the important things in the morning. Tea was about the only task he could accomplish properly, so he made himself and Matthew a cup of juniper tea each which they drank in silence. Matthew continued to read, and Arthur watched him over his cup. He thought about the times when Matthew hadn't been in the shop almost every day; he didn't think he'd be able to go back to those times now. His heart thumped hard against his ribs. Yes, Matthew was very important to Arthur. He was special. But right then it didn't matter exactly what this amounted to, because he could be certain of one thing: he fervently wanted to protect him, and he was going to protect him regardless. Even if what he needed protecting from was Arthur himself.
