Round and Round

Part 28

Arthur had lasted about two hours before the boredom had become too much for him...

Which was a lot longer than he'd expected to last actually. Considering the fact that he currently only had a box of books with which to amuse himself. Leon had promised that he'd get him some more things to do while he was out, but Arthur had no idea how long it would take for him to return. At least half of the day, he imagined. He had no idea how long pigs usually worked for...

Anyway, he'd done a rather impressive job of keeping himself from dying of boredom for those two hours. He'd read through some of the books, filled out crossword puzzles, counted the cracks on the ceiling. But honestly, enough was enough.

Because he was really really bored. And tired.

And this was all the pig's fault.

Although, part of his mind, a part that he was currently desperately attempting to suppress, wasn't exactly agreeing with that conclusion. Instead, it was spending its time pointing fingers at him. He was the one who had decided to jump out of that damned police station, after all. Hell, if Leo—no, the pig —hadn't stopped and helped him, who knew what would have happened to him? He'd probably be dead in an alley somewhere.

...It was a part of his mind that Arthur had been doing his best to ignore for the past...however long it had been since the first time that he had ended up fucking with Francis.

The part of his mind that asked him what the hell he thought he was doing. That tried to make him feel guilty...

Damn it. And now he sat upright. Pushing angrily at the blankets that were twisting around his middle. He couldn't start second-guessing himself now. Not when he was so close to escaping. Damn it, this whole thing was just some shitty temporary setback. Just because he was laid up for a while in some pig's apartment didn't mean that he could start thinking about things like that.

It was all the pig's fault. Arthur had just been startled by his reaction to him touching that toy of his. The ratty lobster with the stuffing sticking out of its seams.

It had been a completely over-the-top reaction, if you asked him. You'd think that it was made of gold or something from the way he'd cradled it to his chest after grabbing it out of Arthur's hands...

...It had made Arthur feel a little curious, actually.

N—not that he actually was curious about the pig. He was just a fucking pig. Arthur felt nothing towards him outside of complete hatred and contempt.

He'd seen some other things in that box, though. Underneath the box that held the toy lobster. More books, maybe. Although different. Leather-bound, perhaps?

Now Arthur glanced toward the pair of crutches resting against the couch. Leon had left them there so he could make his way around the apartment if he wanted to; he'd used them a few times so far, just to hobble to the bathroom or to stretch his legs for a bit. Now he reached out and used the arm of the couch to pull himself to his feet, careful not to rest any weight on his injured foot. Using the crutches to balance. And then he slowly began to walk-hop-hobble toward the pile of boxes.

Pig shouldn't have left him alone for so long if he didn't want him to look through his stuff. Shouldn't have acted so weird about it too.

All of the boxes were neatly labelled, in a way that might hint at some anal neat-freak personality. He and Ludwig Beilschmidt would probably get along if he was like that.

The one that he was mostly interested in was the one that he'd been rummaging through before. Now closed and resting on the bottom of the pile. 'Mementos' written on the side. He flopped down onto the floor, moving the other boxes to the side as he tugged this one toward him.

So, he'd said that the lobster was his dad's... He pulled that box out first, setting it aside. The way he had said it made it sound like his dad was gone or something.

Not that he cared.

Yes, that was a book underneath. A nice leather-bound book that he now tugged out.

And was very happy that he had decided to do so.

As it was a yearbook.

A very recent yearbook too, only from two years ago... Which meant that the pig really was as young as he looked. Which meant... He was probably around six years older than him?

Anyway, that wasn't important. What was important was the fact that a goldmine of blackmail was currently settled on his lap. Which he now opened to the first page.

Which was absolutely covered with signatures... Various handwritings, various colours. Mostly feminine handwriting.

Well, looked like someone was popular in high school...

Most of them weren't all that interesting. Phone numbers, 'Keep in Touch'es, 'Never change'... All of the boring shit that no one really cared about.

So he flipped farther in. Smiling faces that he didn't recognise... Sports teams, clubs, bands, choir—ooh... Wait a minute.

More messages and signatures. On one of the choir pages.

That was relatively interesting. He paused there... One of the messages written in bright pink pen stuck out... 'Leon, you have the voice of an angel. K.I.T Love, Rebecca'.

...Singing? The pig could sing?

He now looked at the picture. And there he was, standing near the centre. Smiling at the camera.

Well, now that could be potentially useful information. Rather surprising too. He wouldn't have pegged him as that type of person.

Actually, he wasn't sure what type of person he'd peg him as. He hadn't really thought about it too much. Since, you know, he was a pig. And that was really the only thing that mattered.

And now he glanced down into the box again...

...There was another book in there. This one covered with dark blue cloth. Resting with its cover facing upwards. The title reading 'My Photos'.

And he immediately set the yearbook aside at that. Reaching inside the box and tugging the photo album into his lap, not even bothering to wonder about why he was so interested in the pig's photos all of a sudden. He just opened the book.

To a wedding photo interestingly enough... Or what he assumed was a wedding photo, since the woman seemed to be wearing a wedding dress. Albeit, a rather simple one. And the man was wearing a tuxedo. They looked really young, though. Probably not even out of high school, he imagined. And they were standing on a beach, the man's arms wrapped around her shoulders. Both of them beaming joyfully at the camera.

And she was cradling a baby in her arms.

The words 'Scott and Megan Kennedy wedding' were neatly penned out underneath in handwriting that Arthur was learning to recognise as Leon's... So, his parents? He looked almost exactly like his dad, weirdly enough. He flipped to the next page. Their marriage certificate, neatly pasted in place. And more wedding pictures of the couple and the baby.

Lots of wedding photos. He flipped through those quickly. Not really paying too much attention, since it wasn't like he'd know the people anyway. And then he set upon lots and lots of baby pictures.

Now these were the pictures that he could use for blackmail. Easily.

He flipped through them relatively quickly. Baby Leon at the beach, baby Leon with his dad, baby Leon in the sink—he'd have to make sure to get a copy of that one... Baby Leon with some older kid. Baby Leon with that stuffed lobster.

Seriously, it looked banged up even back then. Did the git not know how to sew or something? It wasn't like it'd be that difficult to fix, really. He'd just need his sewing kit.

...If he wanted to fix it. Which he didn't.

The only reason that he'd ever fix the pig's stupid toy would be if he wanted to show him just how much of a git he really was. Since he couldn't even fix a fucking plush toy.

...And now Arthur scowled to himself as he glanced across the room, toward where he knew the lobster was sitting on top of the kitchen table. He'd left it there this morning with strict instructions that Arthur not touch it.

...He was bored, though.

And sewing that piece of trash up would give him something to do for a while.

Although, he'd need his sewing kit. He rather doubted that the pig had one—and even if he did, he wouldn't know where to look for it.

And he definitely wasn't calling his family to have someone bring it. Dealing with Maxen had been bad enough. Even if he hadn't really said anything to him outside of 'here you go' and 'don't wreck his apartment'.

...He supposed he could always ask someone else to bring him a sewing kit.

Like Francis.

Which, now that he thought about it... How long had it been since he'd called Francis? He'd called him before he left his house. But, he was pretty sure that he hadn't actually contacted him since then.

And he now groaned in irritation at that thought. He should call him; make sure that the frog hadn't done something idiotic without him around and let him know that he wasn't dead.

And he supposed that since he was calling him anyway, he might as well ask him to bring his sewing kit. Which meant that Francis would now know where the pig lived, but it would serve him right for leaving Arthur alone without anything to do.

...And he most definitely wasn't calling Francis because he wanted company. Definitely not.


A/N: Yeah, I know. Why am I doing this story when I should be doing JaLP or one of the others? Just because this happened to be what I wanted to write tonight. So... yeah. That's how things go sometimes.

And you got random knowledge about Leon. Woot... ;) Because Artie has an inability to respect people's privacy.

Oh, and just as a random aside. Guess who just went through and finally created a character list for the Pleasantville series? And guess how many characters I came up with? (Taking into account the fact that I definitely forgot some...) 81.

...81 freakin' characters for this universe. O.O Now taking into account that a lot of those are like parents, relatives, etc... And some of them are dead/M.I.A. That's still a lot... A lot a lot. Like ridiculously a lot.

...I like creating characters waaaaaaay too much, I think.