"Arthur? Are you almost finished?" His mother's voice was muffled as she rapped on the door to the bathroom in three quick successions, the tone of her voice showing that she was growing impatient.
He took a sharp breath as he buttoned up his sleeve, his breeches cutting into his thighs as he twisted. "Yes, in just a second." Arthur reached for his shoes, wincing at how terribly tight everything was. Sure, the tailor had told him it was supposed to be this way, but in her own words, "It's only supposed to be a bit snug".
Arthur felt as if he were about to pop, as if all his insides would come oozing out in a bloody and chunky smoothie.
The tile was freezing cold under his stockings, making him shiver, taking in another sharp breath. The shoes were easy enough to put on, the heel cap short enough that he could slip his feet in. His smallest toes rubbed against the sides, and would most likely cause a pair of nasty blisters, but Arthur figured that would stop once he broke them in.
Arthur made a quick glance in the mirror, cringing at what he saw. He told himself that everyone else was going to be wearing the same thing- or at least something similar- and that this was considered high fashion many centuries ago, but it did little to calm his ever-growing embarrassment.
Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Arthur twisted the door handle, slowly pushing a small sliver open and sticking his head out.
Along with his family, Vlad and Lukas stood in the living room, tapping their feet with anticipation. They smiled upon seeing him, Vlad pushing himself off the wall and taking a step forward. Lukas look as if he were about to do the same, but stayed where he was. "C'mon out, Arthur. Can't be that bad."
Arthur snorted, shaking his head. "And that's where you thought wrong."
His mother frowned, tsking. She had been on her very best behavior while his friends were over, which thankfully meant no yelling and no looks of disappointment, but at times like theses, some of her true self slipped through. "Arthur, dear, stop being silly. Come out this instant."
He huffed, stepping back to pull the door open. Their faces lit up as Arthur stepped out of the bathroom, the fabric between his thighs rubbing together.
His mother put her hand over her mouth, her face reddening. Her eyes became watery, and she quickly wiped the tears away before they could ruin her caked makeup. Arthur had to suppress a groan and an eye roll. If she was like this seeing him in a damn choir uniform, then he dreaded when graduation came around.
If they even went to his graduation, that is, considering their current pesky situation.
"Arthur… you look-"
"You look like an alternative coloring of Lord Farquaad from Shrek."
"Shut up, Peter."
He stuck his tongue out at Arthur, kicking his feet against the bottom of the sofa. Vlad chuckled at his actions, most likely being reminded of his own little brother, but was quickly cut off by a glare from Arthur.
Arthur's mother shook her head, clucking her tongue. "Peter, don't be rude." Arthur's eyes went wide, and if he wasn't watching, he would've choked. It was rare that his mother would scold Peter for anything, even if important people visited, which made it even more surprising.
She walked up to Arthur, tugging down his tunic and picking a piece of lint off his puffy green and white striped sleeve. Straightening his hat- which was probably the only part of the costume that fit correctly- she ruffled up the feathers and took a step back, looking him up and down. And frowned.
Vlad and Lukas snickered as she licked her thumb, setting her hand on Arthur's shoulder to keep him still. The latter grimaced as she rubbed it across his cheek, erasing whatever trivial spot she found, leaving behind a sticky, slimy trail.
"There. That's better." She put her other hand on his free shoulder, shaking him a bit. Her smile was soft, warm, like it used to be when she looked at him, and when she spoke, she whispered, quiet enough that only he could hear. For once, she wasn't screaming at him from across the house. "Don't listen to your brother." She brushed some of his hair away from his face, her fingers soft and gentle. "He's just jealous at how handsome you look. He wants desperately to be like you."
Arthur snorted, shaking his head. "I somehow doubt that." He made sure to be as quiet as she was, if not more so.
Shaking her head, her smile grew as she walked backwards towards Arthur's father, a few of her teeth showing.
The living room fell silent, everyone staring at Arthur with various amounts of awe on their faces. Everyone expect for Peter, who had left mumbling about how he hoped Arthur would do something- go to hell, most likely- and pouting.
Lukas watched as Peter walked away, navigating around the various pieces of furniture, and running up the stairs, an unreadable expression across the former's face. He turned his attention to Vlad when he spoke, the latter clapping his hands and rubbing them together. "So~, how does it feel?"
The room seemed to perk up, seemed to lean in at Vlad's question. His father drummed his fingers against the arm of the armchair, his eyebrow raised. A telltale sign that he was actually interested in what he was listening to. A rare occurrence.
Arthur looked down, wiggling his toes in his shoes. The rough fabric of his stockings clung to his legs, his knees looking awkward and gangly. His sleeves rubbed against his side, causing a slight scratching sound each time he moved his arms. A collar of lace wrapped around his neck, engulfing most of his chin and lower jaw. Arthur would surely get a rash later, as it was rough, rubbing against wherever it touched. The only way he could describe his outfit was-
"Itchy." Vlad's eyes narrowed, Lukas' brow furrowing as he cocked his head to the side. Huffing and rolling his eyes, Arthur cursed that he was being forced to clarify. Who knew the reaction he would get from his mother. "It feels itchy. The fabric does."
His mother tsked, shaking her head. The unusual kindness that she had displayed not even minutes earlier was gone, eaten up by whatever demon was living inside of her. Arthur knew the only thing holding her anger back was the fact that they had friends over. "What do you mean, dear?" She smiled, batting her eyelashes. Her words were honeyed, hiding the venom. Arthur knew where to find it, though, from years and years of practice.
He shrugged, relishing in the pure annoyance that flashed through her eyes. It was always something amusing to see, despite what usually came after it. "I dunno. It just doesn't… feel right."
"Do you not like it?" There she was. Her true self was budding its head, slithering out of its disguise, regardless of who was with her. Vlad and Lukas sent quick, discreet glances laced with questions in her direction, their eyes narrowing. She was starting not to care, consequences be damned.
"I-"
"I'm sure he'll get used to it. Eventually." It was the first time Lukas had spoken since Arthur went into the bathroom. He had a small, serene smile on his face, similar to the others he had been sporting these past couple of weeks.
His mother whipped her head to him, her eyes cold, calculating. Planning. She reminded him of a green snake, observing- measuring and sizing up- her prey.
He only hoped that Lukas- and Vlad, too- would be smart enough to get out while they still could.
She nodded, her smile growing even sweeter. Taking a step back, his mother put her entire, unrelenting focus on Lukas. "Yes… I'm sure he will. Eventually." She put extra emphasis on the last word, mocking him. Not that he would be able to tell, considering the fact that his mother's had years of perfecting of perfecting her craft. What's more, she learned from the very best: Arthur's grandmother, the Wicked Witch of England.
Her heels clicked against the hardwood floor as she turned to Arthur, cocking her head to the side and folding her hands over her stomach. Arthur tensed his jaw, pursing his lips into a fine line bracing himself for the full brunt of whatever she was planning. "You'll get used to the itchiness, won't you, Arthur?"
This was a test, he knew it was. She was trying to see how he would react in front of his peers, in front of his friends. Whether he would stay calm when faced with her typical methods or resort to one of his "temper tantrums". Of course, this was only the first part, and would be followed by many more, but Arthur had learned to spot these kinds of things from the moment the words come flooding from her mouth. She had been doing things like this since he was a kid, after all.
He smiled, giving her a simple nod. When he spoke, he made sure his words were kind, sweet, reassuring. The doting son to go along with the ever concerned mother. "Of course, I will. I'll just have to wear it a few times, break it in."
The two shared a look. One that, if it weren't for Vlad and Lukas patiently standing next to them, smiling in a washed down version of the typical American fashion, would've become a long and grueling battle of wills. With a huff, his mother broke eye contact, Arthur relishing in the fact that he had won. For now.
Shaking her head and tsking, something that she had been doing many times these past months, she turned to face Arthur's father. His nose was stuffed in a thick paperback, his fingers having slowed down to a soft tap, in rhythm with his foot. Her dress- calf length and floral, a pattern that seemed to be a staple for Kirkland family women- swished as she made a swift turn, wrapping around her leg. As she approached him, she tried to discreetly fix it, but failed miserably, glaring at Arthur and Vlad as they snickered.
"John?" His father answered with only a small nod and a huff. His mother had always found his non-verbal replies irritating, and had complained about it many times through Arthur's life, and, once again not finding what she received satisfactory, tsked and snapped her fingers in his face. "John."
Groaning, he leaned back in the chair, deadpanning. He closed his book with a snap, not before setting a flimsy receipt in the crease of his current page. Brushing strands of his thick red hair out of his face, he raised an eyebrow, his deep voice grumbling as he spoke. "What, dear?"
She crossed her arms, frowning. "Have you noticed your son's new outfit?"
"I have."
"And?"
"And?"
"And what do you think of it?"
Watching the two speak to each other, Arthur felt as if he were in a period drama, his parents a pair of templates copied straight from a Pride and Prejudice-style trope. He glanced over to Lukas and Vlad, giving the two an apologetic smile when he found them looking back. Arthur earned a reassuring grin and a nod in return.
He straightened up as his father turned his head to him, looking Arthur up and down. The latter tapped his foot, staring at the ceiling, his shoulders tense. He would gladly take Peter's non-stop whining over this, or perhaps a weekend trip alone with his mother. It had always made him uneasy when he had his father's unrelenting attention, that critical eye sweeping over him. It was uncomfortable, made him want to swiftly walk away and lock himself in his room or apologize, even if he did nothing wrong.
It made him remember, made him angry.
Opening his book again and situating himself in his chair, his father huffed, pushing his reading glasses up his nose. "It's nice, I guess." He crossed his legs, resuming his reading.
Rolling her eyes, his mother put her hands on her hips, cocking the latter to the side. She tapped her foot, her heel clacking against the hardwood flooring. Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur could see Lukas put a hand to his temple, rubbing it slowly. A pet-peeve, then.
"You guess? You guess it's nice."
"What else do you want me to say?"
Arthur took his chance and quickly stepped over to his friends, standing in the middle of them. "If they start yelling, we dart to my room," he whispered. The chance was rather slim, but he had to have them be ready should it happen.
Vlad glanced at them, then at Arthur, then back at them. He put his hand on Arthur's shoulder, leaning in to whisper with enough volume that Lukas would be able to hear as well. "Are they always like this?" He sounded… cautious. Wary. As if he were actually concerned for Arthur and his family.
Lukas cleared his throat before Arthur could answer, grabbing the latter's arm and wrapping his hands around it. He leaned back, his voice even softer than Vlad's. "When she looked at me, I saw my life start to flash before my eyes. It was terrifying."
Arthur nodded, feeling a bucket of sympathy for his friend. "She sometimes has that effect, believe me." Not entirely true for him, but it was different for others.
Vlad cleared his throat, and Arthur remembered the former's question. He didn't- no, couldn't give the real answer, if only to reveal his family life and have to explain all the shallow ups and deep downs that came with it. And that might lead to having to explain why exactly they had chosen to move to America and what followed, something that he desperately wanted to avoid. So, he lied. "No, it doesn't happen often. It's rare, actually. Don't worry, it usually boils down quickly, we've nothing to worry about."
Vlad nodded, his eyes narrowed. Arthur's reassurance didn't seem to help ease his nerves at all, but he didn't say anything else. Lukas' grip around his arm tightened, his fingers surely leaving a mark.
"I don't know, one would think that since we spent four hundred dollars on that damn costume-"
"I didn't spend four hundred dollars. You did."
Lukas froze, looking up at Arthur with wonder and surprise. "This thing cost four hundred?" He tugged Arthur's sleeve, running his thumb along the bumpy fabric. He scrunched up his nose. "That could buy me a really good violin case."
Vlad snorted. "That could get me a shelf's worth of books." The other two nodded at Vlad's statement, rows and rows of special edition books flooding his mind.
He would have rather bought that, or at least some nice stationary and merchandise for various books he had read, instead of this scratchy heap of cloth. At least then he would actually use it for more than a year, whereas the fate of this costume was unknown the second the last note was sung of the final Madrigal concert.
The three watched as Arthur's parents bickered, providing commentary when they felt like they needed it. From how tense she was, Arthur could tell that his mother was a few minutes from blowing her top off, and knew that his father wouldn't be far behind once she started yelling.
He had to admit to himself that it was rather embarrassing for his friends to see such a side of his family, but was shut down when he tried to apologize for it. A normal family issue, they had called it as they started making bets on who would win. Although he thought it mental at first, Arthur quickly joined them, all the while quickly conjuring up a layout of the house, should they need to escape.
He had to admit, though, that his betting was a bit watered down, sullied by his exhaustion of dealing with their fights year after year. Arthur pretended to be enthusiastic, to overestimate his parents' wrath, and thankfully they believed him. "My mum, definitely. She's a force that can't be stopped."
Vlad leaned in front of Arthur, nodding his head in agreement to Lukas. "Definitely his dad." He pursed his lips into a fine line, furrowing his brow. He stayed like that for a few seconds, before perking up and puffing up his chest, saying in a voice that even a wrestling announcer would seethe in jealously of, "The unstoppable force versus the immovable object."
Arthur tipped his head back and cackled, not entirely caring about how loud he was or if his parents saw. Lukas giggled, covering his mouth with his free hand, his cheeks growing red.\
Confident with what turned out to be a successful bit at comedy, Vlad grinned, a little bit of teeth showing, huffing through his nose. He muttered something under his breath, so quiet that even though he was practically on top of Arthur, he could barely make out a single word. Arthur was sure it had something to do with "earning proper appreciation", but he couldn't be entirely sure.
The laughter died down, Lukas removing his hand from his mouth. "Oh god, I just can't believe the way ya said that-"
"Boys?"
They looked up to see Arthur's mother standing in front of them, her shoulders tense and chin high. Her face was a rosy pink, yet her eyes weren't watery, so she was likely more furious than anything else. Arthur sincerely hoped that everything went smoothly and without a hitch for the rest of the evening, since he wanted to avoid one of her "venting session", as she called it, as much as possible. And, by extension, a nasty headache.
Lukas released Arthur's arm as soon as her eyes went to it, taking a step forward. "Is there anythin' wrong, Mrs. Kirkland?" Arthur had to suppress a snort, rolling his eyes at the sweetness in Lukas' words. He was sucking up to her after their previous interaction, it was obvious, but Arthur felt sorry for Lukas. If only because he had yet to learn that his mother would take names and smuggle grudges down to the bottom of her grave. And the fact that they didn't know that they had wronged her, if only by association with Arthur.
Many, many times in the past, she had openly disagreed and mocked Arthur's choices for friendship in his face and in front of his brothers, and while he hoped it would be different for Vlad and Lukas, it didn't seem to be the case. She always found something wrong, whether it be taste in music and literature or something as trivial as they way they laughed. It never failed, she always hated every single one of his friends, unless, of course, it was someone she had arranged for him to meet with, and did any and everything she could to try and drive them away.
Sometimes, she had even succeeded in her mission. And while Arthur knew that if Vlad and Lukas didn't want to associate with him anymore due to his psychopath of a mother, he would let them go and find someone else , but that didn't mean that he wanted to.
Besides, he was too deep into the plan to have to suddenly find another set of allies.
When she smiled, it was a sweet, sarcastic little thing, one of her trademarks, and when she spoke, her words were filled with thinly veiled disgust and hate. "Oh, Lukas, don't you worry your little self about it. It's fine."
Taking a few steps back, she took in a deep breath, her shoulders rising as she did so. If Vlad and Lukas weren't there, Arthur would have no worries about saying that that was most likely why she was removed from the church choir back home. Of course, he had to think about them now, and the consequences of his mouth around them, so he would unfortunately have to save his witty comment for a later date.
She looked back and forth between the three of them, ignoring Arthur's father as he abandoned his book on the coffee table and left the room, making his way towards the kitchen. Arthur would've thought that she had not noticed his departure, were it not for the footsteps thumping across the hardwood. They were loud enough that even the most distracted person in the world would snap up in a tizzy from whatever they were doing.
Just as she had done previously, his mother folded her hands across her stomach, and spoke, ever the queen addressing her court of rather questionable teenagers. "So, Arthur, I must say that you look simply dashing in that outfit of yours. You've always looked good in green." He nodded once at her compliment, smiling only to keep her anger at bay. "I would like you to continue wearing it throughout the evening, you know, so you can get used to it. Eventually."
Her smile grew at the last part, and she quickly glanced at Lukas, measuring his reaction to her mocking. The latter frowned, his cheeks turning red, but didn't say anything. Smart.
Arthur nodded his head again, his smile growing smaller. He clenched his fist, not before hiding it behind the folds of his trousers. "Sure."
She huffed, slightly shaking her head. A dismissal. "Vladimir and Lukas." The former perked up, cocking his head to the side and giving her a smile with his teeth on full display. The latter slumped his shoulders, his face falling. "You two are staying over for the night, yes?"
Lukas let Vlad speak, the former crossing his arms. "Yes ma'am. If ya don't mind, of course."
"Not at all. And you've notified your parents?" It was subtle, but Arthur knew she was referring back to the night of Lukas' date, when he hadn't felt it necessary to inform her he was not coming home that evening. Not that his friends would know about that, but in his mother's world, everyone was at fault.
While Lukas only nodded, and a bit timidly at that, Vlad's smile grew wider, the skin around his eyes scrunching. "Yes ma'am, you've got nothin' to worry about.'
"Fantastic. I'll go and make sure that we make enough food." And with that, she was off, clicking down the hallway and towards the kitchen, the fabric of her dress fluttering behind her.
Arthur cringed, pulling at his stockings, goosebumps rolling up his arms as it let it go. His friends remained silent, Lukas breathing in as the mood of the living room began to grow lighter and lighter.
"Arthur." Vlad's smile faded, falling into a frown, his posture slumping.
He deadpanned. "Yes"
"I hope ya don't get offended with me saying this, but yer mother's bat-shit crazy."
Lukas snorted. "Crazier than that."
He supposed that since they were bluntly and openly insulting his own mother, he should feel offended and somewhat angry about it, but Arthur couldn't help but agree more.
Over his many, many years in the Kirkland family, Arthur had quickly learned that while his mother valued her reputation, she cared about her curiosities and uncalled-for theories more. It was one of the few things that matched between the two of them, though this particular trait usually did the former more damage than anything good.
Arthur took a sip from his glass, his teeth scraping against the glass. He swirled his water around as if it were fine wine, chunks of solid ice crinkling around. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his father's grip tighten around the handle of his fork, but payed no mind to it, sentencing him to deal with it. The noise wasn't even that loud, but his father had a twig up his ass at best, and found anything that Arthur or his brothers did to be mildly annoying.
"Mrs. Kirkland, this casserole is wonderful." Vlad took another bite, smiling as he chewed. He circled his fork above his plate, waiting until he swallowed to swoop in for another mouthful. A bit of rice fell onto his shirt, but he picked it off quickly, discreetly glancing around to see if anyone noticed.
His mother smiled, setting her silverware down to fold her hands onto her lap. She cocked her head to the side, nodding in thanks and appreciation, Arthur already knowing what she was going to say before she even opened her mouth. "Thank you, Vladimir. It was a recipe my grandmother taught me when I was around Peter's age." She motioned to her youngest son sitting across from Vlad with a swift wave of her hand. "I always try to make it when we have a few guests stay over for dinner, to see what they think of it."
Peter snorted, covering his mouth, fork still in hand, when their father sent a look in his direction. Their mother's smile didn't deflate a single bit, as she didn't even give any indication that she noticed Peter, staring at Vlad with the utmost intensity.
The latter's, however, faltered just a tiny bit, boosting up back at full force as he nodded. "Oh, really?" He took in a deep breath, letting it out through his mouth, his chest shaking as he did so. "Well, that's always nice, I guess. Trying to keep the tradition up and runnin'."
Arthur considered revealing the truth to the table, that she had actually ripped the recipe off the Internet a few years ago and claimed it her own for a sense of self-importance, but decided against it. If only to spare himself from the storm that would brew up only seconds afterward.
His mother nodded, perking up, and thanked Vlad. As what usually happened when such an occurrence came up, her smile turned smug, and she glanced at the ceiling, basking in her new-found attention. Arthur hoped it wouldn't be too bad, and would be- unfortunately for him- about Peter, but such luck never seemed to be with him these days.
"You know, I have a funny story involving this casserole and Arthur." She looked at him, her face loving and kind, though if you looked close enough, you could see that it didn't reach her eyes.
Arthur could feel the color leech from his face, and he clenched his fists under the table, careful not to let anyone else see. She was going back to that one. He had asked her multiple times to stop telling the story, especially in front of people that he liked, but here she was, about to spill it out all over again.
He took a deep breath, cocking his head to the side, his smile tense and back stiff. "Mum, I don't think that this is a good-"
She shook her head, lips pursed into a fine line. And right at that moment, Arthur realized that this was the beginning of the second part of her test. The vile woman. How cruel of her, to reveal the more angrier moments of his past into the light when he had purposefully and skillfully covered them these past couple of months. "Arthur, it's not too bad. It was years ago, and it goes perfectly with out dinner pallet."
He glared at her with what he hoped to be enough hate to make a small child cry. She stayed the same, persistent, didn't do anything to show that she was affected by it.
Lukas looked back and forth between the two, sitting at Arthur's right and his mother's left from the head of the table. Before, when everyone was sitting at their various spots, the former balked when the only remaining seat was right next to her, and had mostly kept silent throughout the dinner. Until now, apparently, when he d3decided to make their current situation that much worse. "Er, if you don't mind, Mrs. Kirkland, I would like to hear yer story."
Arthur suppressed a groan, sending a deadpan expression in his friend's direction. The fool had no idea what he had cause just by saying those handful of words, and he probably wouldn't get it until it was too late. "Too late" being the second after she finished humiliating Arthur.
His mother perked up, clapping her hands then lacing her fingers together. Peter scooted his chair forward, leaning in and setting his elbows on the table, already knowing what she was going to say as much as Arthur did. The thing was, the former enjoyed it- still getting a degree of amusement out of it, even after hearing it so many times- and regularly asked for it to be repeated, unlike the latter.
Tapping her fingers against the wooden dining room table, her stylishly manicured nails making an irritating clicking sound, her words were slow and emphasized as she spoke, pouring a bag of salt into the wound she was viciously ripping open. "Well, it was around the time when Arthur was in- what you you Americans call it? Year… Freshman year. Yeah."
Arthur tipped his head back and groaned, knowing that once she started, there was no way he could effectively get her to stop.
She frowned at him, lightly clucking her tongue, before dismissing him with a wave of her hand. "Anyways, at that time, Arthur's older brothers were still at home. All four of them are currently in uni back home in England, but that's besides the point." She picked up her fork, pushing the almost untouched food around her plate, Arthur wincing at the scrapes and scratches as she spoke. "Arthur has never really gotten along with his brother Dylan-"
"They practically hate each other!"
"Yes, thank you, Peter. Anyway, they were getting into a nasty argument one evening, over something that was so trivial that I don't even remember what it was, and a few moments prior I had just taken this casserole out of the oven and had set it on the table."
Arthur closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. The moment of truth, the time when the gates that were his mother's mouth would open and out would come the things that would mercilessly smear the reputation that he had so carefully and painstakingly built up with his friends.
Not because he was ashamed of it, of course. He looked back at his past, his hard-earned and bravely faced accomplishments with pride. He praised them each time a memory popped into his mind, reliving each moment detail by detail, remembering the smells and the sounds, noting what he could've done better and smiling at the highlights. Each of his "outbursts" were wonderful, beautiful. They were his to cherish and his alone.
However, in front of his friends, with the way they considered and thought of him, this story would do damage. A lot of damage that he couldn't take. Which was something that he could surely- and preferably- go without.
Of course, she didn't see it that way, nor did Peter, the little fool, for that matter, as she continued the second Vlad and Lukas nodded, giving her their full, undivided attention. Arthur considered telling them that it was nothing they wanted to hear, and it was an old story with no significance anymore, but figured that that would only peak their curiosity. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and huffing, watching as his mother ruined everything he had so far worked for this school-year.
"By then, they had turned almost violent, and their yells could be heard from the kitchen. Since I new no one else was going to do it-" She sent a quick glare towards Arthur's father, who was eating and didn't pay her any mind. She frowned. "I made my way to the dining room to stop them, and right as I walked in, Arthur grabbed the back of Dylan's neck, or maybe it was his head, and dunked him face-first into the casserole."
Arthur sunk into his chair as the room fell silent, dropping his fork to rub his temples. He waited for the looks that he often got after she got to the climax of the story, the ones filled with disgust and disappointment and shock. The ones that would grow worse and worse and she began to tell even more, going into an analysis of Arthur's life in England. The ones that were prior to the averted eyes, stuttering, and general awkwardness. The ones that led to those "friends" of his quickly fading out of his life, gone faster than they came.
He had to say, it was nice knowing Lukas and Vlad while they had their short run together.
Her smile grew into a cocky little thing as she leaned back in her chair, taking a sip of her beverage. When she noticed Arthur was staring at her, his mouth etched into a sneer and his brow furrowed, she shook her head, lightly tsking.
His fingernails formed dents in his hands as multiple vulgar insults passed through his mind, most- no, all of them not something you would want to say in front of your mother. Arthur supposed that they would be worse, considering he wanted to say them to her. But with what she had just done, cussing her out like he oh-so desperately wanted to do probably wasn't the best thing, and would do more bad and good.
But it would feel so, so good while he did it.
What had to be even more surprising than the events of this evening was when Lukas- Lukas, of all people- broke out into a howl, his shoulders and stomach shaking. He cupped his head between his hands, his fingers messing up the hair that covered the side of his face as they rubbed up and down.
Vlad quickly followed, covering his mouth as bits of water spilled out. He shook his head vigorously, lightly tapping his free hand against the table, his laughter muffled. He swallowed his water, not without struggle, and joined Lukas in his shrieking.
A soft tint of cherry red spread across their faces, Lukas wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, and then the other. It was shocking, Arthur seeing the exact opposite of the reaction he had anticipated, had figured would happen. He couldn't help but grin, then break into a full-blown smile, teeth and all, berating himself for thinking them to be like all the others.
His mother looked more taken back than Arthur felt, her eyes wide and smile faltering. Slowly setting down her glass, she straightened her back, taking in a deep breath, and cocked her head to the side. She watched the two laugh, and eventually Arthur when he joined them, her jaw tense and her eyes cold and hard. Her plan, her method that had been tried-and-true more times than Arthur could count, had backfired at its most basic level.
It was amusing to think about it, really. To see her so angry about her failure to continue ruining his life. Arthur could only compare it to a toddler who didn't get the toy after causing a tantrum in the store, which only made her seem so much more pathetic.
Vlad's laughter died down just enough to where he could get a coherent sentence out. It took a few tries, however, as every time he got out a string of words, he burst into another fit. Eventually, he spit out his sentence, literally, his words bunched together. If Arthur hadn't been listening so intently, he's sure he would've missed it. "And then what happened next?"
Lukas nodded his head, smiling and giggling with enthusiasm. The two leaned in, Vlad propping his head on the palm of his hand, drumming the fingers of his free hand against the table with impatience.
Arthur rolled his shoulders back, smirking, feeling smug. He glanced up at the ceiling, just as his mother had done earlier, studying the wrinkles and creases that covered it as he uncovered the memory. Tapping his finger against his chin, making sure to go agonizingly slow, Arthur took his time as he told the rest of the story. "Well, Dylan's face was covered, and he was screaming bloody murder. The neighbors even came over later, thought that we were being abused or something like that." He chuckled, a quick glance to his mother showing her rolling her eyes and shaking her head, muttering something under her breath. She frowned when he snorted. "And, since the casserole had been tainted with Dylan's disgusting face, it's not like anyone was going to eat it."
The two nodded, grinning as they listened. Peter was laughing breathlessly in his seat, and shook his head as he reached for one of the large serving platters that lined the middle of the table. His arm shook as he carried it over, and though Arthur's father put down his fork for once to try and help him, Peter waved him off, making a whiny comment about how he could do it himself. He received only a huff and a shake of the head as a reply.
Arthur watched their exchange, suppressing a snort at his little brother's antics. He snapped out of it, rolling his neck back, before continuing. "Of course, he was livid, though he's hotheaded to begin with so that didn't really make much difference. Anyway, he grabbed the dish, which had his face printed into it, and threw it at me." He made a throwing motion with his arm, reenacting it, his fingers tensed and curled.
Their eyes widened, mouths gaping. Lukas shook his head, taking in a sharp breath, giving Arthur a concerned look. "Did it hit you?"
Arthur's smirk grew, and he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. He remembered his other brothers cackling as they watched, cheering them on and placing bets n when their "fight" would turn even more physical. And even though his mother pinpointed that moment as one of the "starts of all their problems in the poor Kirkland family", it made Arthur feel good. It made him feel like he had finally done something right. To him, at least. "No, it didn't. I ducked just in time for it to fly over my head. It hit the wall and smashed into pieces, though."
His mother snorted, scooping helpings of food onto her plate and Lukas'. The latter sent wary glances in her direction as she did so, but still paid attention to Arthur. "And I'm sure you boys could guess who got the honor of cleaning that up." She scowled at that, her mood souring.
Peter frowned, looking up from his plate and to his mother. "But mum, if I remember correctly, you left the room yelling about how you were done with us and Allistor was the one who had to clean-"
"Quiet, Peter."
Vlad chucked, but returned to his food upon receiving a glare from her. Arthur snickered at that, shaking his head at his friend.
Lukas straightened his back against the dining chair, grinning as he turned to Arthur. "Please don't tell me that that's the only store ya got like that."
He opened his mouth to speak, to suggest that they move on and focus on a different, less suspension-riddled topic, but his mother cut him off before he could get a single word out. "Actually, that was one of the more mild ones."
Lukas and Vlad's eyes widened and their brows shot up as Arthur glared at her. Compared to some other ones, the dreaded casserole story was like Arthur giving a lolli to a baby. Of course, they never needed to know the worst of the bunch, and never would, if Arthur had anything to do with it, but that would mean keeping his mother in check. Something that he had never been able to do.
Vlad took a quick sip from his glass. "Really?"
Her smug smirk was back, and with the attention of the table being returned to her, she rolled her shoulders back, giving sparing looks at each person seated. "Indeed. Arthur's good behavior and tasteful clothing has only been… recent." She put extra emphasis and nodded once at the last word, raising her glass and circling it. "In the past, calling him unpleasant was possibly the largest understatement you could think of."
Arthur deadpanned, holding back a cruel insult. How dare that woman insult him while, at the very same time, congratulating herself for her "accomplishments" of "taming" him? It was distasteful, and while he knew this was her he was talking about, Arthur expected even a little better.
Lukas turned his focus to Arthur, looking him up and down with an inquisitive eye. "Well, I've noticed those two little holes under his lip-"
"Oh. Those were piercings. He forged my signature and got them without permission. Among other things, of course."
Arthur let out a huff as Lukas'- along with Vlad's, for that matter- eyes grew even wider, sinking into his chair. At the time, he thought his actions completely justified, and he still did. His mother had been vehemently against it, complaining about how it would lead him into trouble later on, but had no problem with letting his brother take money out of the swear jar for his cigarette addiction. Let them pay for the lung cancer and see how they liked it.
Vlad looked impressed, pursing his lips and nodding. "That type of piercing, what's it called?"
"Snake bites."
Another nod.
Sensing the conversation turning into a directions he found undesirable, his mother cleared her throat, rolling his stiff shoulders back and holding her chin up. "They were awful. Every time you looked at him, your eyes went straight to them. My friends would comment to me about them all the time and-"
He rolled his eyes as she went on and on, talking about how much of an embarrassment he was to her in her various social groups. Arthur took a sharp breath, letting it out harsher than he intended to, earning a glare from his father. A warming.
As if he would ever take it.
Vlad and Lukas listened along as she announced her woes, her frustrations of having a son who turned out oh-so wrong when she had only a mountain level of high expectations. Who "only had to follow his brothers' examples, get into playing football, having good grades, and then just easily succeed like that", but had to end up the way he was. Who would give her a near heart attack every time she saw the school's number calling her cell phone. The son who was the bad crop of the bunch, and how she "figured that with six sons, at least one of them had to turn out bad", which happened to be him, of all of them.
Arthur stayed silent throughout her rant, his blood boiling. Multiple violent outcomes of this situation swimming through his mind. Not a single one of them ended well for him. Whether it was prompting an outburst from his mother, going off on her and ruining the progress he'd made with his friendships, or having a later screaming match after they left. None of them were desirable, none of them made him erupt with excitement.
As she went on, his friends' faces went from curious to angered to offended. From what Arthur could tell, really. Vlad's brow was furrowed, his shoulders stiff and mouth gaped. Lukas' lips were pursed, his eyes cold and hard. It surprised Arthur, to see them this angry for him, and it felt nice. Amazing. This had never happened before, never, with most agreeing with his mother. He had gotten used to it happening.
But this. This was so much better.
Vlad shook his head vigorously, throwing away most of his impeccable manners in favor of cutting Arthur's mother off. "Excuse me, ma'am, but that isn't how I see Arthur at all. From the time I've known him, he's been nothin' but kind and respectful."
Lukas leaned against the table and looked over Arthur, nodding at Vlad. He then turned to her, shaking his head, mouth forming into a subtle sneer. "And if that's how you view your own son, if that's what you really think of him, then you need to stop looking at him as the problem and turn the mirror onto yourself."
Arthur sunk even further in his chair, his shoulders raised to the level of his chin. He looked tot he end of the table, measuring the reactions of Peter and his father. The former had frozen completely, staring at his plate, eyes wide and jaw dropped to the floor. He slowly raised his head, looking between Lukas and Vlad with awe, wonder, and just a bit of horror. The latter, however, being his usual self, kept eating, staying out of the conflict as he always tried to do.
What Arthur feared most was the reaction of his mother. She might not yell at his friends- no, she would never do that and risk her reputation, even if it was nonexistent in the states, but that didn't mean that Arthur himself would be saved after they left. He was definitely going to be on the receiving end of a tongue thrashing tomorrow evening, or maybe the minute- the very second- the front door shut and they were out of the driveway, but the real situation was in the present.
Her jaw tensed, so much that he thought it would snap, and she smiled, one that dripped with hatred and frost and fire. One that told him that while she might let them into the house again after tonight, she would not do it without an argument, and would shun them from the moment their left feet stepped onto the hardwood of the entry hall.
She grabbed her glass, her fingers wrapping around it and gripping the ridges hard enough that her knuckles began to turn white. For a moment, Arthur thought she would throw it, and prepared to duck should it happen to come in his direction.
She looked straight at Lukas, her smile turning into more of a sneer. "That's what you two think. So you just wait. I know my son, so you just wait, and once one thing goes wrong, once you slip up in even the tiniest way, then you'll really know what your 'kind and respectful' friend is like."
When she finished, the room fell silent, tensing. She gave each person at the table a look over, and when it was Arthur's turn to be inspected, he could feel her already searing gaze grow hotter, and he felt relieved but sympathetic when it moved on to Vlad.
In one of her very own temper tantrums, one that could rival Arthur's worse, she stood, the wood of her chair scrapping against the floor. She grabbed the folded cloth napkin that had sat on her lap, throwing it onto the table with an angered grunt. It flapped against her plate, which still had food piled up on it. He cringed, knowing that it would stain
"I am done with all of you." She spat out each word, her chest jumping up and down as she heavily breathed. "All of you!"
Her heels clicked as she stomped out of the dining room, cursing and ranting to herself, though Arthur would be lying if he said he didn't hear every single word. He was, along with everyone else in the dining room, frozen in place and silent, listening to the heavy thumps from the stairs to the second floor, and then the eventual slam of a bedroom door.
He didn't move, didn't think at all, just replaying the past ten minutes over and over and over again. Arthur should have expected it, should have seen the rapidly blinking signs, should have stopped it when he could. But no, he had to let it happen, had to sit there like a damned fool as a known active volcano blew her top, spewing her lava on anyone in a limited radius. Idiot. He was an idiot.
Picking up his glass, Peter took a sip from his drink, making sure the noise could be heard throughout the room. When he finished, he pulled his lips away just a tiny bit, his voice deeper than it usually was. "Well, that was awkward."
Arthur's father grunted in agreement, before continuing to eat.
The three quietly filed into Arthur's room, Vlad and Lukas going to sit on the edge of his bed as he shut the door.
Following his mother's rather embarrassing episode, Arthur figured it best to get them out of the dining room. Ushering them out of the dining room, he left his father and Peter to clean up the dishes- ignoring their whining and protests- and made a beeline towards his bedroom. Sure, they were closer to her, but they were behind a close door. One that locked without any trouble, and had a connection bathroom. Arthur was also confident that at least one of them had snacks in their bag, and he had an electric kettle sitting on his desk along with a full box of tea, so they were set.
As the lock clicked in place, he left to join his friends, tossing his shoes into the corner, his bed groaning as he sat. Arthur stared at his toes, wiggling them in his stockings and tapping them together. From the corner of his eye, he could see his friends fidget and twiddle their thumbs, but didn't say anything, and neither did they.
They sat there for a few minutes, the entire house silent. Waiting. When someone finally spoke, all three of them did it at the same time, their words bundled and rushed.
"I apologize for the behavior of my family tonight."
"Oh, hell, I did somethin' really stupid, didn't I?"
"Arthur, I think yer mom's gonna murder me in my sleep."
They froze, looking back and forth between each other. Arthur deflated, hanging his head and shaking it side to side. What a disaster.
Vlad tipped his head back and laughed, flopping down on Arthur's bed. He folded his arms under his head, his shirt rising to reveal a slip of soft stomach. "My lord. Did ya hear how she said that last part. It was like she was a witch and was gonna curse us."
Lukas snorted. "Did y'all see the way she looked at me when I told her to turn the mirror on herself?"
"This was one of her good days," Arthur added. Not entirely true, but at the moment, he was pissed off and wanted to blame her for his terrible mood. Making her seem like a bad guy was a good way to do it, he figured.
Vlad winced, taking in a sharp breath. "I feel sorry for ya, Art." He moved his arms to pat his stomach, smacking it in a random rhythm. "I really do."
He shook his head, cringing. That was one of the last things he wanted to hear. "Don't be. She's been this way for years and she'll never stop. I'm just surprised she did it in front of you two, since she usually values herself more than humiliating me."
Lukas shook his head, muttering something under his breath. It sounded like he was saying, "That isn't right at all," but Arthur couldn't be entirely sure. And if he did say that, then he would have to agree, even though nothing about his family had ever been right.
Groaning, Arthur pushed against his knees, stretching his arms after he stood. The carpet was soft under his feet as he turned, folding his arms behind his back as he faced Vlad and Lukas. They looked up at him, expressions neutral and just a bit defeated, as if his mother had sucked all the life and energy out of them. Since they'd not yet gained their immunity to her, she probably had.
"So~." Arthur clapped his hands together, locking his fingers and squeezing. Vlad watched as he did so, patting and rubbing his knees, a frown on his face. Lukas had his eyes closed, taking in deep breaths. "Are you guys still planning on staying over. If you don't want to, that's-"
Vlad shook his head, waving him off. Arthur had no idea what exactly he was dismissing, him staying over or the thought that he wouldn't want to, but Arthur waited for him to clarify, cocking his head to the side and furrowing his brow.
"Yes?"
Vlad sighed, slumping. He chuckled, his smile returning, which was a relief. "Arthur. I'm not gonna ditch ya cause yer mother's a psychopath." Arthur's eyes shot up, a smirk forming as Vlad perked up, waving his hands back and forth like his life depended on it. "I mean no offense, of course."
Lukas snorted, crossing his arms. "Of course, ya don't." The two shared a look, one that Arthur didn't bother to figure out, as it was gone before he could even start. Lukas broke into a smile, huffing, before turning his attention to Arthur. "I agree with him. Yer mom is… interesting, and even if she had her… thing, it's not a valid reason to break our friendship."
Arthur nodded, smiling, happy with the answers that he received. He turned, walking to his closet, and as he pulled the doors open, scanning for extra blankets and pillows, Lukas added:
"Oh, and I told my mom that I was stayin' over and I don't wanna call her to pick me up."
He scowled as Vlad snickered, turning his head to give Lukas a look of distaste. The latter shrugged, a small smile on his face, looking away and shrinking into himself as Arthur deadpanned. Lukas took in a sharp breath, letting it out through his mouth, silently tapping his foot against the floor. "And because you're one of my best friends, of course. Though it hasn't been long, our friendship is valuable to me."
Arthur smiled sarcastically, turning back to his closet. As he took a step inside, nudging some thrown-in junk with his foot, he spoke. "Thank you. That means a lot."
His friends nodded and the three exchanged smiles, Arthur's a bit more fake than the others. The last few minutes of that disastrous dinner kept replaying, and though they had said otherwise, Arthur couldn't help but feel as if his mother had done some damage. Irreversible damage.
Arthur could've gotten them out of there. He could've shoved Vlad and Lukas up the stairs and into his room, plates in hand, promising to bring them down when they were done. But no, he had to sit there and watch as she cracked and snapped, attacking everyone as if she were a rabid honey badger. It only showed that he was losing his touch, losing that sense of his when shit was about to hit the fan.
They took turns going into the bathroom and changing into their pajamas, the two that were free pulling the blankets and pillows from Arthur's closet and off his bed. Throwing them onto the floor in a giant heap, the three were set on making a makeshift bed, ignoring Arthur's in favor of using it for their planned shenanigans for the evening. Even if they did decided to use it, it was too small to fit all three of them in it.
The carpet was plush, and comfortable enough that none of them would be waking up before the crack of dawn showed, complaining of back pain. Since they had only moved in during the height of summer, which wasn't that long ago, the carpet was stain-free. Well, except for a minor tea spill back in August. But he'd gotten that cleaned up quickly and thoroughly, to the point where one would have to get down on their hands and knees to notice the stain.
Vlad unfolded one of the thinner blankets, laying it over the top of a thicker one. "So, what're the plans for tonight?" He looked between Arthur and Lukas expectantly, pulling the corners of the blanket flat.
Arthur froze, looking up from his patting and stretching. "Uh…" He didn't want to admit that he had not gotten that far, had not expected to get this far, so he racked his mind for something to do, Arthur said the first thing that popped up, acting nonchalant, as if he had it planned the first time he proposed them staying over. "I was thinking that maybe we could talk and read. Stuff like that."
Lukas looked over to him, raising an eyebrow. Arthur smiled back, his eyes wide, sending over a silent message not to ask him anything about his answer. He received no reply in return.
Hanging his head and going back to what he was doing, Vlad talked as he worked. "That sounds like a good idea. I've got a new one to show y'all." He stood, brushing invisible dust off his knees, looking over their little ensemble with a critical eye. Arthur did the same, and when he noticed that it was a bit flat and thin, cringed. Vlad followed suit, putting his hands to his hips and giving Arthur a wince. "You don't happen to have any more blankets, do ya?"
Arthur nodded his head, rolling his shoulders back as he stood. They had a closet in the hallway, one that was filled with sheets and bedding for the guest room. He had thought of it earlier, had acknowledged it as a possible trip, but didn't think they would need it. He had hoped they wouldn't. "Yeah, we do. I'll be right back."
He padded to the door, putting his hand against the lock and freezing. Behind him, he could hear a confused noise and some shuffling, but he ignored it. A wave of thoughts ran through his mind, but he waved them all away, thinking himself pathetic. He twisted the lock and pulled the door open, light from the hallway pouring in.
Arthur shut the door on his way out, a soft click sounding as it connected with the doorway. He stood in his place for a second, blowing a deep breath out, carding his fingers through his hair. This entire evening was a mess.
His socks swished against the hardwood, the hem of his cotton pajama pants ghosting over his ankles as he walked. The closet was at the end of the hall, right next to his parents' bedroom, so he would be able to sneak in-and-out quickly, should he stay quiet.
He wrapped his hands around the cold, metal handles, rubbing his thumb over the engraved patterns. It was smooth, his finger gliding over its dips and bends. He continued rubbing even as he pulled both doors open, wincing at the squeaky noise that was a result. They would definitely be putting something on that.
Knowing that someone likely heard the shriek of pain that the closet emitted, Arthur stepped inside, pushing up on the tips of his toes to reach the very top shelf. He grabbed onto the blanket at the very bottom, pulling it down with a hard yank.
Arthur shielded his head as piles and piles of bedding came tumbling down on top of him, falling from his head to the floor. He looked around, scanning for anyone in the area that might've seen his blunder, before quickly picking up all the fallen blankets.
He piled them all up in his arms, doing an odd dance to keep them from falling back down. Arthur leaned to the side, attempting to use his foot to close the closet, before giving up after a few failed tries. Coming back out after dropping off the blankets would be a more efficient way to do it, he concluded, and would save him a few embarrassing tries.
Scanning the floor for any ones he had dropped, Arthur nodded, feeling satisfied, when he found none. He turned, waddling his way down the hallway, stopping every few moments to adjust the pile and stretch.
"Arthur."
He froze, cursing under his breath, and turned to his mother. Her eyes were red and puffy, trails of black makeup running down her cheeks. She had changed into sweatpants and a solid t-shirt, a box of tissues being clutched in her hand.
Rolling his eyes, he turned and continued his way back to his room, not wanting- no, not willing to give her the mind and attention she oh-so desperately wanted.
"Arthur, Arthur come back here." Her voice was wobbly, as if she were just about to burst into another fresh set of tears.
He shook his head, huffing. "I don't want to deal with you right now."
This was just another part of her game. A pity party to try and draw Arthur in, to make her seem like a caring and empathetic mother who had just gotten into a petty argument with her son. She would wrap her arms around him, softly rubbing his back, whispering about how sorry she was. Of course, her apology would only be a group of thinly veiled insults, blaming him for what happened, and her grip on his shoulders would have her nails digging into it, but from the outside, from far away, you wouldn't be able to tell anything was wrong.
Arthur was disgusted with himself that he had fallen into her trap more than once in his life, and quite often during those years when he sought validation and praise from her exclusively.
From the corner of his eye, he could see her shake her head, pulling a tissue from the box and dabbing it under her eye. Her breath hitched. "Don't say that." She took a step forward just as he resumed moving. "Arthur, dear, don't ever stay that."
He rolled his eyes, maneuvering the blankets to sit between his chest and right arm as he used his left to open the door. He pushed it open, seeing Vlad and Lukas' heads rise.
Arthur stopped in the doorway, turning to her one final time. He deadpanned. "I don't care. Go get some eye drops, your tears are a bit lacking."
He could hear Vlad snort and his mother scramble for words as he walked into his room, throwing the blankets haphazardly onto the floor and slamming the door shut. Arthur squatted as his friends started grabbing blankets and adding them to the "sleep zone", as it had been called one time, Arthur joining in once he got himself situated.
Vlad glanced up at him multiple times, obviously expecting something, but Arthur ignored it until the former stopped working. He looked up, raising an eyebrow, frowning. "What?"
He shook his head, huffing. "Are you okay, Arthur?"
"Excuse me?"
"I mean, after tonight, with yer mom and everything, it's just kinda worryin' that you go through that every single day." He averted his eyes, fidgeting, as if saying so might set Arthur on a warpath.
Arthur nodded his head, smiling. "Yes, I assure you, I'm perfectly fine."
Lukas sighed. "If ya say so."
The room fell silent as they started diligently working, the pile of blankets Arthur retrieved slowly but surely dwindling. It gave him some time to think, and he went on autopilot, letting his hands do the work as he was lost into his thoughts.
Mathias had said that he was pretty sure that Heracles had a crush on Kiku. However, a "pretty sure" was not a definite, and if Arthur were to go in and talk to him in the blind… It would be disastrous. It could spell the end for his entire plan, gone and revealed before it even began. He would have to go in and probe for himself, bring it up to him to see his reaction, but for now…
A bit of outside opinion would do.
"I've got a question, and I want it to stay between the three of us." Vlad and Lukas looked up, Arthur's attention going immediately to the latter of the duo. "This means that Mathias is not included."
Lukas blushed, a rosy red spreading across his cheeks. He hung his head and crossed his arms, grumbling under his breath.
Vlad snickered, but nodded his head, waving his hands for Arthur to continue. "Yeah, sure, whaddaya need?" He scooted closer, leaning in, as if he expected to hear some deep and dark secret.
Arthur sat, criss-crossing his legs. "Er-" He tried to figure out how he was going to say this, how to make it sound like he was doing nothing but asking a question out of pure curiosity. Arthur tipped his head back, humming and studying the ceiling, his throat vibrating as he did so. From the tapping and huffs and puffs, he could tell they were growing impatient.
He sat up straight, tsking, and said the first thing that came into his mind. "If you have a crush on someone, what are some of the signs that would show?" He trailed off at the end of his sentence, his voice growing quieter, and he crossed his arms.
He waited for them to speak, preparing a mental list of all of Heracles' behaviors around Kiku, or at least the ones he had already seen, where he would check them off one by one.
Vlad's eyes widened and he lowered his head a bit, pursing his lips. Lukas deadpanned, staying silent and watching Arthur with keen interest. Vlad stuttered as he spoke, taking a few pauses to think of more. Arthur nodded each time he brought up a symptom. "Well, uh… when you're around them, you're constantly blushin'-"
Check.
"You always wanna talk to 'em, no matter what it's about-"
Check.
"I guess you can't help but have a distaste of those that are really close to them, like a boyfriend or a girlfriend or someone like that."
Check. It was extremely obvious that Heracles had a dislike for Alfred- at the least- and vice versa, for that matter.
"You can't stop thinkin' about them."
Arthur winced. He could assume, but assumptions weren't confirmations and it was iffy.
"And, uh… every time they do somethin', you can't help but-"
"Arthur." Vlad frowned as Lukas cut him off, but the latter didn't seem to care. He narrowed his eyes, looking Arthur up and down, his head cocked to the side.
He raised his eyebrow, a silent question to Lukas' verbal one. They sat that way for about a minute or two, Arthur drumming his fingers against his thigh in a random pattern to pass the time.
It wasn't until Vlad huffed, crossing his arms and pouting, that the silence broke. "Lukas~! Come on," he whined, lightly shoving Lukas' shoulder.
Lukas ignored him, keeping his eyes on Arthur. He repeated his name again.
"Yes?" Arthur pushed some strands of hair out of his face, giving his friend a sweet, honeyed smile.
When Lukas spoke, he asked such a question in such a blunt and dead way that Arthur couldn't help but choke on his own saliva. "Do you have a crush on Alfred F. Jones?"
Vlad erupted, jumping to his feet, a large smile on his face and eyes wide. He pumped his fist up in the air, yelling about how he knew it, doing a small happy dance.
Arthur gave Lukas a look of horror, who returned only a raised eyebrow. He was expecting an answer, then.
Reverting to his instincts, Arthur started waving his hands, shaking his head with the same amount of vigor. When he spoke, he stuttered over his words, something that made his cheeks heat u. "No- no, of course, not. Why would I- why would I have a crush on Alfred, of all people."
Lukas broke into a smug smile, leaning back and crossing his arms. Vlad had by then finished whatever he was doing, and sat down with his legs in a butterfly position. A small dimple appeared in the corner of his mouth as the latter spoke, his teeth showing as he smiled. "Ugh! Why didn't I think of it before? Yer always talkin' about him, always run into him, and-"
Vlad perked up, eyes growing to the size of saucers. His mouth gaped, and he raised a hand to cover it. "Oh my god. At Lukas and Mathias' date, when you followed Alfred into the bathroom, were you two-"
"No. No. Don't you dare go there. You have no idea what actually hap-"
Lukas nodded, getting what Vlad was trying to say. "Arthur, if you're in a secret relationship with Alfred, we'll support ya. But I really think that you two need to tell Kiku or it's gonna get pretty messy-"
"I'm not in a relationship with Alfred," he yelled, running his fingers through the carpet. How could they, his very own friends, assume that he was in love with someone he hated? Sure, Arthur found the fool attractive, had since the first day they met, but as soon as he opens his loud mouth, all of the perks of his looks went down the drain. He would never be able to stand such a person so much as to be his friend, much less in something more. "And I'm not telling Kiku, because there's nothing I need to tell that snake."
Vlad pursed his lips into a fine line. "You and Alfred would be such a cute couple, though." Nodding his head, Lukas said his words of agreement.
Arthur deadpanned. "I doubt it."
"But you would!"
Lukas stood, stepping over their pile of blankets and squatted next to Arthur. The latter balked as he was pulled into a loose hug, the former resting his head on his shoulder. "Don't worry, Art. You supported me in my awkward love affair, so Vlad and I'll support you in yours. Even if it's three times worse."
Vlad nodded, clapping his hands together, and Arthur wondered for perhaps what was the millionth time in the past few months what exactly he had just gotten himself into.
Thank you guys so much for reading Cross Life Chapter Ten: Lace and Cotton! This is going to be a rather long note, but there is something very important in it!
For all those of you who wished me a happy birthday three weeks ago, thank you very very much! I got this writing software called Scrivener, and my lord, it makes editing so much easier. I don't have to constantly turn my head and scratch down stuff on my notebook. Though, I do miss the handwriting practice, everything is much more efficient now.
Speaking of writing, if you've noticed, recent Cross Life chapters have been getting super duper long. Suuuper duuuuper long. Chapter ten was eleven thousand words, and while I'm happy that I've got the motivation and skill to write that much, it takes forever to type out and edit. In addition to that, school is starting up and I'm expecting a large workload this year (lots of AP classes), so please be understanding if I start missing a lot of deadlines. For the past couple chapters, I've been staying up really late (it's almost four am right now), which is very unusual for me. Just so everyone knows!
Now, this part is important. Very important. At the bottom of my profile, there's a link to a Cross Life survey. It's pretty short, only nine questions, but it will help a lot if I were to have some participants. so pleeeease! It only asks questions like how you think of it and who's your favorite character and stuff like that. You might not think it much, but trust me on it.
I'm sorry this has been really long, but once again, thank you for reading Cross Life Chapter Ten! I will try to see you all two weeks from now, but until then, have a excellent morning, day, and evening!