Where My Wild Friends Are
Chapter 8
My plan was to make Arthur's environment happy and lively. The plain white walls and the torturing silence made the place so dull and lifeless. I felt that it was sucking the life out of Arthur.
Francis, Matthew, and I decorated the walls with the pictures from our childhood, the ones that I had kept in my shoebox and brought along. We played music, most of which were our favorite songs from back then and we sang and danced and laughed.
"Dance with me, Matthew!" Francis held his hand out to Matthew to which my cousin blushed. Francis spun Matthew around and around until he got dizzy and fell back into Francis' arms.
Apparently, they had already confessed their love for each other when they had stepped outside for some "fresh air" that first night we arrived. It was obvious from the way they looked at each other and the way they always blushed that they are madly in love. Francis had thanked me over and over for bringing the two of them to each other.
It made me happy and proud of myself that I helped make it happen. And knowing that Matthew is in safe hands, I am confident that he'll be okay.
In the middle of our music and laughter, we heard a knock on the door. Matthew checked to see who it was.
"Oh, hello, Oliver!"
"Hello, Matthew. Is there a party here? I hope I'm not intruding." Oliver appeared carrying a suitcase.
"Not at all, come in!" Matthew ushered Oliver in and closed the door.
"I'm just here to bring some of Arthur's clothes. I'll just leave it here and go." He shyly crossed the room and placed the suitcase beside the table.
"Oh no, please do stay. I would like to get to know you. I'm Francis, one of Arthur's childhood friends. It's nice to meet you, Oliver." Francis walked towards him and extended his hand.
"Francis! The rooster! You're here as well! Ah, it's so good to finally meet you!" Oliver smiled in recognition as he shook Francis's hand.
"Oui, that's me, the rooster," Francis laughed, and held his head high as if posing like a rooster.
Oliver then turned to me. "And hello, Alfred. It's so nice to see you again."
"Same, Oliver." We shook hands and smiled at each other.
"Say, is it someone's birthday? This place is livelier than usual." Oliver commented, looking around the room.
Matthew offered Oliver a cup of tea. "It was Alfred's idea. He thinks it will help Arthur get better."
"That's quite a brilliant idea, Alfred. You know, I think it'll be effective, especially if he can hear and feel what's going on around him."
"Yeah, I really do hope so," I said.
"Have faith," he said, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze.
Have faith. Have hope.
We spent the next hours talking, mostly Francis and Oliver interviewing each other, and then Francis advertising his restaurant, and then Francis constantly commenting on how adorable and lovely Matthew is, and then we described to Oliver each picture on the wall. Oliver couldn't stop laughing over our princess getup for Halloween.
"By the way, Oliver, where did you get the clothes for Arthur?" I asked him, referring to the suitcase he brought.
"Oh, I took them from his flat. I have his keys," he then brought out a set of keys from his pocket. I noticed an old blue ribbon tied to the keychain.
I was silent for a little while before I hesitantly requested, "Then… is it… is it alright if we go there? I wanna see where he lives."
"I think Arthur would find it alright. When do you want to go?"
"Now, please."
The cab ride from the hospital to Arthur's place was just approximately fifteen minutes. Arthur's flat was on the third floor of the building. Only Francis and I came because Matthew was still on-duty.
"On behalf of Arthur, gentlemen, I welcome you to his humble home," Oliver said as he opened the door.
The place was tiny, but very neat. It was an old-fashioned place. Most of his furniture are made of wood, and there were carpets on the floor. He had a huge armchair by the fireplace. His television was a small, portable one, not a flat screen. The design on his wallpaper was vintage, I think, Victorian? He had rows and rows of bookshelves which occupied the most space in his living room. It was so Arthur. His personality is embedded in his home.
It looked almost the same as the house that his family had back in Oregon. I felt like I was traveling back in time and I half-expected fourteen year-old Arthur to appear through the door carrying a stack of books.
"It is so obvious that this is a writer's flat," Oliver remarked, gesturing to the bookshelves.
"It is so obvious that this is a Kirkland's residence," Francis added. "It's their trademark home interior design."
We walked in and I saw a desk that I didn't see at first. A laptop was laid there, closed. There were stacks of paper on the right side.
What caught my eye were two framed pictures on the left side. One was a framed picture of the five of us, which was our last photo together. The last day of middle school. I remember it so vividly. It was taken at the school garden where we always loved to hang out. It was where we spent our free time playing, eating, talking, or just sitting there, watching the clouds.
The other framed picture was of me. This one I could never forget.
It was the first time we called each other "best friend". We were seven and we were in first grade. His family just moved to America and it was his first day at school. That day, at recess, some kids made fun of him because he "talked weird". They teased him and mimicked his accent until he cried and that was when I came to his rescue.
I told the other kids that they shouldn't make fun of people just because they're different. I then told Arthur that I liked his accent which caused him to smile a little. Then some of the other kids also started telling Arthur that they liked his accent as well. After that, no one made fun of him anymore.
Arthur thanked me for defending him, calling me his hero. I think that was when I fell in love with him, I just wasn't aware that I did. But now I do.
I was his hero. A smile made its way to my lips at the memory.
"I don't know if I could be a hero to you as well, because I'm not as brave as you are, but I can be your best friend," Arthur had said.
"Best friend?"
Arthur raised his eyebrows and looked upwards in thought. "A best friend is someone who will always play with you, and eat snacks with you during recess."
"I see! Yeah, I would like to have a best friend! Let's be best friends!"
We shook hands to secure the deal.
"Wait," I said. "We need something to make it official."
"What something?"
"You know how in weddings they wear rings to make the vow unbreakable? We should do that too!"
He scratched his head in confusion. "Are you telling me that we need to get married?"
"No, we're too young for that! We just need something, but rings are expensive because they're made of gold. We can't afford them. Ah, I know!"
I pulled one of the blue ribbons tied to a paper flower at the school's fence and cut it in half. I tied half of it to Arthur's wrist and he tied the other half to mine.
"There!" I took his hand and held it up with mine proudly to admire our work. "It's official! We're best friends now! From now on we will play and eat together!" I hugged him and we both laughed.
Of course, our definition of the word best friend changed over the years, but at that time when it just meant "playmates", I already knew back then that the relationship we had was something real.
After school, Arthur had invited me to come to his house saying I had to meet his parents. His mom was so amused by the story of how we became best friends that she took pictures of us holding up our ribbons together.
I took the picture off from the frame and I found another picture hidden behind it. It was the both of us, grinning widely while proudly showing off our blue ribbons. There was something written on the back of the picture. Our "best friend" wedding. I laughed at the humorous caption. I even remembered his mom saying that we looked like happy newlyweds that day. I missed this kind of innocence that you can only have when you're a child.
The picture on top, my solo one, also had a caption. Alfred F. Jones. My hero, my best friend, my bald eagle. I traced my finger over Arthur's handwriting, feeling my heart swell and beat faster. He didn't forget. He never did. But why was there no contact? That same question again haunted me.
I put the pictures back in the frame. I felt Francis' presence beside me.
"Ah, getting teary now, Alfred?" I didn't realize I was crying until he wiped a tear off my cheek.
I laughed. "Yeah, how embarrassing." I returned the framed picture back to its place.
"Oh, don't be." He glanced at the photo of the five of us and smiled.
"I think maybe we should go. It was a wrong idea of mine to come here."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. It just feels so wrong to come here without Arthur. I feel like an intruder now." I slowly backed away from the desk.
"Alright, then. Back to the hospital?"
Going back to the hospital didn't seem like a good idea for me at the moment. "Actually, why don't we go have a walk first? Go out for some fresh air."
Francis smiled. "Okay."
I turned to the editor. "Oliver, hey, thank you so much for taking us here. I really appreciate all the help that you've given me since I first came here. I feel forever indebted to you."
"Oh, Alfred. Don't you worry about it. I'm doing what I can to help Arthur. No debts."
"You really do care so much for him."
"Yes." His reply was quick and brief. It was so sure and undoubted.
I stared at him for a long while. "Well then, Francis and I will be going. Thanks again, Oliver. Goodbye."
"Goodbye, Alfred, Francis." He patted both our shoulders.
"Goodbye, Oliver," Francis echoed.
Francis and I left the building and just as we stepped on the sidewalk, he took my hand.
"You're tense," he said, and then started massaging my palm.
"Francis, I'm so afraid," I said, closing my eyes.
"What exactly are you afraid of?"
"That Arthur might not survive. Or that Arthur might survive but then he won't remember us. What if he chooses Oliver over me? God, I don't know how I'll be able to live like that," I let out a shaky breath.
"Why would Arthur choose Oliver over you?"
"I think Oliver is in love with Arthur."
"Well, do you think Arthur returns his feelings?"
"I don't know."
"Didn't you say we were going out for some fresh air? Come on, let's clear your head of any worries."
I didn't know why I was being consumed by horrible thoughts again. What happened to the happy and lively mood that we had earlier? Lately I've been having these weird mood swings. I think I need a therapist.
Francis gently took my arm and hailed for a cab. The instruction he gave to the driver was, "Please take us somewhere fun."
It was a long, long ride, and we ended up in Windsor. I brightened up when I saw the word LEGOLAND.
I was honestly expecting for the driver to bring us to a club or a bar. I certainly didn't expect to be brought to a theme park. A Lego theme park, even. Isn't this a place for nine year-olds?
Nevertheless, I was excited like a nine year-old.
"Oh, I remember that you had a massive collection of Legos back then, didn't you?" Francis said when we had stepped out of the cab.
"Yeah, I did," I said, still staring in awe at the entrance. I even used to own a Statue of Liberty Lego set.
"Well, come on then!" Francis fished out two tickets from his wallet and gave one to me.
I was shocked. "What?! You already have tickets? I thought we were randomly brought here!"
Francis just smiled and winked at me and then he started walking to the entrance.
"You planned this, didn't you?!" It was obvious. I was overflowing with happiness as my inner child followed him.
"Well, Matthew mostly did. I just executed the plan. It's sad he won't be able to come, but he said that he was sure you'll love it here."
It turned out that it was their way of saying thank you to me for what I did for them.
To be fair enough, it was one of the best afternoons of my life. It had kept me distracted from my worries and fears and I really enjoyed the place. I loved looking at the miniature towns made out of Legos and trying out all the rides. It was a nice thank you gift.
But of course, distractions are only temporary.
When it was evening and I was lying in bed at the hotel, I thought about how it would've been more fun if we were all there. If Arthur was there with me.
And so I cried before I fell asleep.
Author's Notes: I owe you guys an apology for taking so long to update. Sorry, sorry, sorry! The past few months I was really busy with college stuff so I hardly had any time to write. But now I'm on vacation so hopefully I can update quicker! I'll have to battle writer's block though.
By the way, I made an FST for this fanfic! I made it to help me inspire writing this fic. Go check it out! The link is on my profile page. :)
