Well. A quick update. I was inspired or something. Things get thingier.
After that day Arthur became even more aware of himself. He was careful not to say anything about the phone call, or anything that could give him away. He was, in the end, extremely ashamed of himself. He felt bad, he felt sick. He was afraid that if Lydia knew what he had done she would be angry, and wouldn't forgive him. Forgiveness was exactly what Arthur needed; but when you don't tell anyone, you can't find it.
Well. He had told Francis. But Francis' forgiveness wasn't what he was looking for. Francis wasn't meant to be used for that.
Probably.
"Why haven't we visited mum for a long time?"
Jett's question caught him off guard. They were the only ones up, eating breakfast during Saturday morning and the others were still sleeping. Jett's eyes were staring Arthur, no malice or doubt in them, just the sweet ignorance of the situation.
It was still too much like an accuse for Arthur.
"I don't know", he lied, avoiding eye contact. Jett didn't approve the answer.
"It has been a really long time since we last saw her. I miss mum", he said. Arthur bit his lip. "I miss her too", he said, perhaps too quickly, because a flash of confusion visited Jett's face.
He's eight, Arthur rationalised. Jett wouldn't figure it out.
"Will we ever move back with mum?" the younger brother asked. Arthur was quiet for a while, choosing his words wisely. "I don't know. Do you want to do that?"
Jett didn't answer right away. The boy looked kind of guilty as he casted his eyes on his cereal plate.
"Am I a bad person if I say I don't?" he said, not looking at Arthur. The older brother sighed.
"Trust me, you're not."
"The others are asking why you're not hanging with us after school anymore."
Francis' words weren't meant to be an accusion, but they sounded like one. Arthur glared the Frenchman.
"You know damn well why I don't", he spat. They were walking back from school, after a long time. Arthur had already forgotten the usual routine of it.
"But they don't", Francis answered. "What am I supposed to say to them?"
"I don't know. I don't care. I have bigger issues to worry."
A thick silence formed between them. Arthur was cross, Francis wasn't any better.
"If you had some fun instead of dwelling in your problems maybe you wouldn't feel so miserable", Francis said, voice low and aggressive. Arthur shot an icy look towards him.
"Sod off. You don't know a shit", he muttered.
"I'm just saying, it would help. My friends were there for me when Jeanne died; thanks to them I survived."
"No one has died!"
Yet.
Arthur quickened his pace, hoping to get away from Francis as soon as possible. Much to his dismay, the Frenchman followed his example, not letting him escape.
"Don't isolate yourself. It's not a smart thing to do."
"I'm not isolating myse-"
"You are. You refuse to talk about things. You avoid people. That's isolation. It won't lead you out of the problems", Francis said. Arthur stopped and turned around to face him.
"Oh yeah? Then what will? Tell me that, git, and I'll fucking do it! I don't want any of this shit in my life. I don't fucking know what I should do, but I am not going to ruin anyone's life with my bleeding misery!"
Francis didn't answer. Arthur stared at the other blonde, waiting for something. It never came.
Arthur turned around and continued walking.
"You're not using me as your punching bag anymore", Francis noted. Arthur pretended he didn't hear it.
Arthur wasn't oblivious to his surroundings. He could see what people were thinking. He knew that Lydia knew something wasn't right. She asked questions, and every time Arthur answered something neutral, and he could see the doubt in her eyes. Why she didn't confront Arthur, that was was simply because she couldn't. She was afraid of angering him, afraid that Arthur might not trust her anymore. That was faulty. Arthur loved and trusted her with his life, and didn't want her to be upset; but the same time, he knew if he told her what had happened she would judge him and get angry. Lose trust.
Lydia wasn't a mother, not even if she should've been. She was the aunt. Aunts were wonderful, magical people who were nicer than mothers and didn't anger kids. That was the simple truth; Lydia acted by it. Arthur didn't blame her. She hadn't been an aunt for years, and when she finally got the chance for that, it was a mother that the children were in need of. She couldn't fill that position.
That's how they lived; the aunt and the children. There was no one to blame for that.
Manon caught Arthur on Wednesday after school.
"We're going to hang out in the school yard today, and you're coming with us", she announced, eyes stern. Arthur tried to ignore her look and excuse himself.
"I have homework to do-"
"You're smart, you can cover that later. You're coming with us now", she said and dragged Arthur to the others. There was some sort of fight between Gilbert and Mathias, the two of the were rolling on the ground playfully trying to beat the living shit out of the other. It didn't stop when Manon and Arthur arrived, it slowed down just enough so everyone could note their presence.
"Eyebrowbastard is back", Lovino said, earning a grim look from Arthur. "Pastabastard hasn't changed", he shot back.
"Don't start that again, you two", Elisaveta interrupted the well-began argument, smiling. "It's nice to see you, Arthur. It has been a while."
"I've been busy", he said, not entirely lying. It didn't seem to satisfy the others.
"Have you had your pimp business going on or what?" Mathias managed to shout from the ongoing fight. Arthur rolled his eyes. "I don't have a pimp business!"
"Yes you do, and one day I will prove this!"
"Go suck a cock."
"If you could arrange that, please."
Arthur looked at Mathias wrestling with Gilbert for a while.
"Gilbert", he said, "I'll give you a twenty if you manage to make his nose bleed."
Two minutes later Gilbert wasn't broke anymore.
(Twenty minutes after that he was.)
"You're less angry", Francis said when they were walking back from school. Arthur didn't answer.
"I told you it would help to be with others", the Frenchman continued.
"Shut up. I didn't even talk about it", Arthur argued.
"I know. But I never said you should talk about it. I said you shouldn't isolate yourself."
"How do you know you're right? What if I just happen to have a better day?"
"I know, because you were smiling back there. A genuine smile. You haven't smiled for real for ages", Francis said. Arthur huffed.
"For a reason, you know."
"Do you admit my advice was helpful?" Francis asked.
Their eyes met.
"Never."
"Figures."
Arthur found Lydia from the kitchen when he got home. She was sitting at the table, and there was something horribly off in her; the usual cheery feel around her was gone. It was replaced by a thick, dark gloom that made Arthur feel horribly anxious.
"Lydia?"
She lifted her head, and apparently she hadn't noticed Arthur's arrival. A hint of surprise flashed through her pale face. Arthur couldn't believe his eyes; Lydia's eyes were red and puffy, indicating she had been crying, and her usually smooth and pretty hair was messy, stressed.
"What's wrong?" Arthur asked, worry and fear creeping up his spine. He tossed his bag to the corner and sat next to Lydia, grasping her hand.
"Arthur", she breathed out, voice shaky. "I-I just got a call from the police."
Arthur stiffened.
"Your mother is dead."
Arthur's time stopped for a moment, and then it's sort of blurry.
She's dead
Alfred you couldn't have done anything
Arthur stop it
I'm fine
Where's Matthew
There's two weeks of haze after the incident in the kitchen; Arthur can't remember what has happened. The only clear image he has from those days is the funeral. Only six people attended, Lydia and the kids, but no one was invited so it was only logical. It was a cold day, colder than the others. Sydney hadn't put up the slightest fight when Lydia asked her to put on her black dress. No one had fought. Barely anyone had talked. They couldn't.
She died in a police shooting. Along with her escape mates, she had been hiding in an abandoned house. The police had found out, and ambushed them. One of the escapees was a three-time murderer, a dangerous one, and had decided they'd put up a fight; they did. Their mother was the only one who died in that shooting.
Arthur didn't understand why he thought it was horribly wrong.
Don't force them there
it wasn't Jett's fault
we have a right to be upset
I lost a sister
Matthew hit me
Suddenly Arthur snapped out of the haze.
He was in the school psychologist office, sitting on the gross orange plastic chair. The ceiling fan created a lazy breeze in the heavy aired room. Apparently the psychologist had asked something, because she had a waiting look on her face. Arthur blinked and shook his head.
"I'm sorry, could you repeat that? I wasn't listening."
The brownhaired woman sighed almost unnoticed, and asked the question again.
"I said, is there any chance you are blaming this on yourself?"
Was there any chance he wasn't.
Arthur shifted uncomfortably on the chair, avoiding her studying eyes. He didn't answer.
"Arthur, I know this is hard, but your mother's death wasn't your fault-"
"Damn right it was."
"It's common that children take the blame on themselves in these kind of situations, but really, it wasn't your fault-"
"It was. Don't argue with me, because you don't know a shit."
"Arthur", her voice was calm but stern, and if you listened carefully you could hear a little bit of annoyance in it, "I understand you are angry and sad. It's okay. You are allowed to feel that way. I just want you to understand it was not your fault that she died."
But it was. Arthur had abandoned her. If he had been listening to her, if he had promised to see her, she would be alive. She wouldn't have been hiding in some building and there wouldn't been a shoot-out and...
It was his fault.
"You don't know anything. You're just repeating words from a book you read ages ago. It was my fault", Arthur said. The psychologist sighed, trying to keep calm. "Arthur-"
He didn't want to listen anymore. He stood up and left the room, loudly banging the door shut. He had to get away from there. To think through things. Or maybe to avoid that. He didn't know.
It was his fault.
"Are you blind or something?"
Arthur hadn't expected to bump into Francis; and quite literally bump. The Frenchman had come from behind the corner straight into his way.
"Make way", Arthur hissed and tried to get pass. Francis stopped him. "Whoa there. Why aren't you in class?"
"I'm seeing bloody the psychologist."
"But her office is that way."
"I know. That's where I'm coming from."
Francis blinked a few times. "I see the wittyness is back", he said, a surprised tone in his voice. Arthur looked at him, confused. "What?"
"You were a fucking zombie for two weeks. Talking to you was rather dull", Francis enlightened him. Arthur rolled his eyes. "I had a good reason to."
"Don't you always?"
"Let me go or I'll castrate you", Arthur spat and shoved Francis out of his way. The Frenchman did not approve, and grabbed his arm.
"Don't you think I'm letting you go that easy."
"You really want to get rid of your testicles, don't you?" Arthur threatened, not the least bit joking. Francis ignored the aggressive sound.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Arthur turned his head to face Francis. "Sure, that's why I am escaping the psychologist. What do you think, frog?"
Francis frowned. Arthur yanked his arm out of Francis' grip.
"Why aren't you in class?" he asked. Francis shrugged.
"Didn't feel like going."
"That's responsible."
"Do you have a problem with that?"
"Actually yes, you're bothering me now that you're not in class", Arthur said. Francis answered this by sticking his tongue out.
"That's mature", Arthur scoffed. Francis snorted. "Aren't we always?"
Arthur managed to crack a smile for the briefest second. A wall of silence formed between them. Arthur felt suddenly very light and normal.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Francis asked again, this time in a friendlier way. Arthur bit his lip, thinking.
"No", he said. "But I'd like someone to look after me that I won't do anything stupid", he admitted. Francis smiled.
"I can do that if you want."
"You'd do it even if I didn't."
"True."
"That's a strange way to annoy me."
"Yeah. Annoy you."
Arthur tried to ignore the strange sound in Francis' voice.
"You've been rather snappy lately", Lydia said. Arthur frowned. "I have a reason to."
"I know, I know. But...I think you should talk about it to someone. I know the school psychologist is a no-"
"Damn right."
"-but you shouldn't dwell in your emotions. You should talk to someone", Lydia said. Arthur looked at her. She seemed older, more tired. He felt guilty.
"Like who?" he asked. Lydia shrugged. "You seem to get along with Francis-"
"No."
"No?"
"No. We don't get along."
"Really now?" she asked, sarcastic doubt dripping from her voice. "You do spend awfully lot time with him."
"It doesn't mean anything."
"I think it means many things."
"What are you implying?" Arthur asked, beginning to grow annoyed. Lydia smiled slightly and turned around. "Nothing", she said, laughed innocently and left the room, leaving Arthur baffled.
"That's so not cool", Mathias whined. Arthur didn't really care, but it bothered him that Mathias didn't close his mouth while eating.
"What's not cool?" he sighed. Mathias pointed towards the other end of the cafeteria table, where a disgustingly sweet aura of love was present. "That. Coupling in a group of friends is so not cool", Mathias said. Arthur rolled his eyes. "You say that only because Katyusha chose Lovino instead of you."
Mathias shrugged. "Well, maybe, but it's still wrong."
"What's wrong?" Francis asked as he sat down. Arthur didn't even bother to look at the Frenchman.
"Coupling in a group of friends", Mathias explained and stuffed his mouth full with bread. Arthur groaned. "Shut your mouth when you eat!"
"There's nothing wrong with love", Francis argued and smiled at the lovey-dovey couples at the other end of the table (well, there was nothing lovey-dovey in Gilbert and Roderich, but Manon and Antonio did a pretty good job covering them).
"There is! It's not fair to the ones who are single and despairing", Mathias whined. Arthur rolled his eyes. "We did not need to know you're horny, twat."
"Oh come on Artie, don't be such a prude-"
"Don't call me that", Arthur hissed, glaring Mathias icily. He did not want to hear that nickname; he never wanted, it was what his mother called him and no one else did, no one else was allowed. Mathias quieted down, realising Arthur was serious. They fell silent. Arthur casted his gaze down like his lunch was suddenly the most intriguing thing in the whole universe.
"Well", Francis coughed, "I think there's nothing wrong in coupling. Besides, if Katyusha had chosen you, you wouldn't complain", he laughed. Mathias stuck his tongue out.
"That's what your boyfriend said" he muttered. Arthur and Francis went grim.
"What?" Francis asked, voice low.
"Oh come on, you two are basically another couple. You fight like you've been married for ages."
"Have you lost your bloody mind?" Arthur shrieked. Mathias raised his hands to cover himself incase of a sudden attack. "Whoa, no need to get worked up, dude."
"Has Elisaveta brainwashed you?" Francis asked, looking at Mathias like he was a filthy animal.
The following argument proved a few things.
Firstly, Mathias had been brainwashed.
Second, Arthur and Francis did fight like an old married couple.
Third, fighting in cafeteria led to a conversation with the principal.
"That went well", Francis spat out sarcastically as they walked back home from school. Arthur didn't answer.
"You know, it would've been much easier if you had spoken with words that contain more than one syllable. I had to come up with a good excuse and everything. You didn't do a shit. That's not polite, you know. What happened to that gentleman you claim you are?"
Still, no answer. Arthur noticed Francis began to grow annoyed.
"And now you're upset with me? Fucking great. You know, you're like a woman with a really bad PMS. I don't understand how I can put up with your fits-"
Arthur hit Francis on the chin. Hard.
Before Francis could register the out-of-the-blue attack, Arthur grabbed his jacket collar and pushed him back-first on the ground, straddling him. Francis stared Arthur, eyes wide.
"What are you doing?!" he yelled. Arthur stared Francis, green eyes locked in the blue ones.
"It doesn't matter how much I beat you, it's not enough..." he whispered, grip tightening. Francis looked at Arthur in confusion.
"It's not enough anymore, I still feel bad after that. It's not fucking enough", Arthur said.
And it was true; At first fighting Francis had been his way out of anxiety, his sedating drug that made him feel better, and that's why he continued. His twisted friendship with him was just an accidental product of that. But, the more he fought with Francis, the more he needed.
And suddenly it wasn't enough. Their fight in the cafeteria wasn't enough.
His drug didn't work.
Arthur's breath was uneven as the realisation hit him fully. His grip loosened a little and his shoulder's slumped. Francis' eyes were soft, curious, compassionate, and Arthur felt suddenly very tiny and vulnerable.
"Maybe", Francis said, a long pause following, leaving Arthur wary. Francis licked his lips.
"Maybe you need a different approach."
Francis didn't say it, but Arthur understood exactly what he meant. He stared Francis, and became very aware of how close he was to him, how close their faces were, and how easy it would be. Francis had practically given him the permission. Francis did not oppose.
It frightened Arthur, and he let go of Francis' collar and stood up, quickly leaving Francis lay on the ground.
He couldn't believe he let himself think about it more than two seconds. Francis was annoying, a twat, a bleeding moron, and even if he had offered Arthur some peace and kindness and had been there for him when he had needed, and even if he was fun and good-looking, and even if he never let Arthur feel like an outsider in the group, and even if always knew how to cheer him up-
Shit.
Shit.
Shit.
Like I said...things get thingier. Yikes. Queen of shiptease here. I'm sorry things had to end like this for the mother (quite a few of you wished things would be better), but the story goes like this. Also I am a detestable bastard.
Also, still waiting for someone to catch the joke in the chapter titles.
