At least it wasn't quite so hot outside anymore. The breeze still came in baking blasts every once in a while, but clouds provided shade, and it would have taken quite a bit more heat to chase Belle away from her shooting practice. Leaving a trail of bodies wasn't exactly her current mission, but it helped to pave the way.
Getting a good drink of water, she surveyed the area before sitting on a rusty bench to change magazines.
So. What was going on right now? Arthur... was not doing particularly well. There was a chance he would pull through fine, but there was also a chance he could die. And that scared her.
But there was nothing wrong with being a little scared. She was allowed to worry, especially if it was about Arthur. He was like an old friend by now, and it was always upsetting for a good friend to pass on, especially so young. And strong. And kind. And so, so caring towards her. And...
And what on earth was so wrong with him that she wouldn't even consider returning his affections?
Exhaling, she got back to her feet and skulked back towards the gravel road.
She wasn't required to fall in love with him just because he was after her. Even if he would run himself ragged every day for her. Even if he'd throw away his life to speed up her journey a little bit. All of that didn't oblige her to feel anything beyond the deepest gratitude.
But why didn't she? She had been through her share of boyfriends, so she hardly considered herself an ice queen impossible to win over. And she knew she thought Arthur was cute. Maybe he wasn't the hottest man on the planet with those eyebrows, but he was good-looking enough and, more importantly, good on the inside. He wasn't afraid to take care of some dirty business when he had to, but, if he were that tender-hearted, he probably wouldn't have made it this far. She wasn't sure if she had an exact checklist of things she wanted in a boyfriend, but he certainly seemed qualified when she thought about it.
So, why nothing? Why was she just seeing him as an awesome traveling companion?
It hit her about the same time her next bullet hit an infected. She blankly stared at the empty cartridge as it rolled on the ground.
Traveling. It was all about the traveling. Her goal for the next who-knows-how-long was to find her brother. She would let nothing drag her off that path. She would let nothing become more important. Was that why Arthur was so eager to send her away? "Obviously you care much more about the destination you may never reach than the man right in front of you, so go already. Just let me die here—as long as you find your brother, it doesn't really matter to you, does it? Sorry to have been such an inconvenience."
He was not an inconvenience! He was—
She was just putting stupid words in his mouth, so no reason to overreact. He didn't actually think that about her. Right? Maybe? Should he have? Of course she loved Claus dearly, and finding him was a goal she'd never throw away, but she wasn't outright obsessed, right? She still cared about the people by her side now. She had already stayed in one place for days for Arthur, and not just because he could shoot down food and infecteds for her.
On the other hand, the journey had to stomp on its brakes before she would even think about what he meant to her. What, was she going to leave him behind if she decided he wasn't high enough on her likability list? Of course not—but why only now? She couldn't have been taking him for granted since the day they met, not when she was parading him through unsafe territory. Or was the thought of him getting killed just too easy to push aside until now?
She definitely wouldn't want to think about that. She cared too much about him—as a person, not just a defense system. Even if he couldn't shoot anything when he recovered, she'd wait for him. They'd hardly have any food to split between them, and that would certainly make things more difficult, but she'd still want him around. Like she had told him, she really did enjoy his company. Maybe not quite so much when he was in a scowling mood, but even then he was tolerable just because she knew what he was really thinking.
How important was that fact? Being in his head? She certainly wasn't the same way with Kiku; all she could tell with him was when he was only being polite. But Arthur—even when she didn't know his whole story, even when he tried to hide it—was an open book to her. He was madly in love with her but too pessimistic to make any moves besides just helping her out. He was probably mindblown just realizing he was still by her side after a month.
Was that really just in his own head, though? She had given him plenty of reasons to believe he was never going to be more than a traveling companion to her. That was all he hoped for now, wasn't it? With the date's total collapse, he could only have nightmares about trying anything else romantic. He probably thought he had blown his only chance of wooing her, but he still wasn't about to turn his back on her. He seemed eager to leave her now, but only because he was sure he was dying, not because he didn't want to be near her if she wouldn't be his. And she was just going to let him go to the grave believing that she never would have loved him, anyway.
Belle shot down one last infected in her way and marched back to Ivan's house. Swinging the door open, she sent Kiku into a minor panic, but he recovered by the time she knelt next to Arthur. The archer was lying still, his eyes closed, but Belle could still detect the sickly, sour smell of his breath. At the side of the couch, she put her chin on the armrest and folded her arms across Arthur's chest, just below his shoulders.
"Arthur," she started quickly, "after you recover, you're going to take me on another date."
Dragging his eyelids open, Arthur took a minute to locate her face. "What?"
Belle exhaled slowly. "When you get better, you're going to take me on another date."
Arthur peered at her for a second before his eyes forced themselves closed again. "Why would you want to suffer through that again?"
"I'm sure sure you can do better than last time," she said, watching the bandages around his waist like they would eat him alive if she looked away. "It's worth a shot, isn't it?"
He didn't respond, and Belle found herself holding a hand above his mouth to ensure he was still with them. Eventually he shifted his head and made a noncommittal grunt.
Belle sighed. "Or do you just not want to date me anymore?"
Arthur swatted the thought away like a buzzing insect. "I..." He wrenched his eyes open but only glanced at her. "Of course I do, but..." His gaze fell, and he nodded at his wound.
"Come on, Arthur," Belle sighed. "I got an arrow all the way through me, and I got out of that alive."
"Well, you're tougher than me," he mumbled.
With a suppressed noise of exasperation, she gripped his solid arms and prepared to comment, but he drew in a sharp inhale first.
"Can you—grab a bin or something? I think I'm about to vomit." He squeezed his eyes shut. "Sorry."
"It's no problem." Frowning, she got to her feet and turned to investigate the living room, but Kiku was already hurrying back from the kitchen with a dusty green wastebasket. He silently offered it to his roommate, who nodded a thanks and took it. After a few false starts, some watery meals resurfaced, leaving Arthur to groan and lean his head back on the armrest. Exhaling shakily, Belle used the already-warm rag on his forehead to wipe off his chin and put it away to be cleaned at a better time.
"I don't remember you doing any of that," Arthur mumbled, nodding at the wastebasket.
Swallowing, Belle wrung her hands, but Kiku replaced the washrag on Arthur's forehead and started, "Have you been feeling nauseous before now?"
"Somewhat, I think." Arthur swallowed stiffly, crinkling his nose.
"It may just be the antibiotics," Kiku concluded quickly, glancing at Belle. "Since we gave him more, it would make sense for the side effects to be worse." Looking back at his roommate, he let out a deep breath. "I'll go prepare something else for you to eat—drink? Please have some more water while you're waiting, and I'll try not to take long."
Arthur grunted in an affirmative fashion, leaving Kiku to scurry away and Belle to sit beside him.
"Where were we?" she prompted, leaning against the armrest sideways this time.
Arthur remained silent for a minute before blinking his eyes open and lowering his brows. "What? Um... You were trying to convince me there's no reason to think I'll die."
Sighing, she folded her arms. "There is a little bit of a reason, but not enough for you to be spouting off famous last words, all right? If you give up, you really aren't going to make it. You ought to know how survival works by now." She waited for a minute, idly thumbing the top of his shoulder, but he just watched the ceiling with half-closed eyes.
"And you have plenty to fight for, right?" she added, smiling faintly as he turned his head towards her. "Even if you don't think too highly of yourself, Kiku and I need you around."
"Yeah?" Arthur turned away before he exhaled and forced down a swig of water.
Belle bit her lip at the dullness of his voice. "Yeah," she said. "We need you. I'm not sure what we'd do if you died on us." She glanced at Kiku, but he seemed thoroughly engrossed in the water he was boiling. Meanwhile, Arthur's half-closed eyes made him look a lot less interested in everything, the serious topic notwithstanding.
"Are you even listening to me?" Belle started, quietly but not without some force. "I know you're not feeling well, but it'll only get worse if you don't let yourself care now."
Arthur's eyes slid shut. "No, I'm listening, I just... I don't know." Sighing, he strained to set the water bottle on the ground beside him.
Easing the bottle out of his hand, Belle waited for him to say something else, but he just lay there.
"Don't know or don't care?" she started, letting out a short exhale. "Think about it, Arthur! You're important to us—what do you think we'd feel like if you just let yourself die? I..." Despite Arthur's eyelids cracking open a bit, she stopped to figure out what she was going to say. What she needed to say. What she felt.
"I—" she sucked in a breath, getting to her feet so Arthur wouldn't have to strain to look at her—"I can't imagine exactly how badly it would hit me, because, honestly, I don't want to think about. But I wouldn't just say goodbye and go on my merry way. I-I guess I would get going eventually, but it wouldn't be like I had never met you. You'd still be in my head, or my heart, a-and..." Pinching the bridge of her nose in an attempt to stifle the tears, she had to take a breath before continuing.
"And it would still feel like you only just died, and there's no way I would suddenly get over it once I was walking again. I would still be thinking about you, wondering how I could have saved you, what you'd be saying if you were still there, what you could have gone on to do and be if you had pulled through."
As she gave on up not crying, she smiled faintly down at Arthur. At least trying not to sniffle too much, she said, "And you know what? In case all of the grief isn't bad enough on its own, it would make me very, very distracted. As I'm walking along, as I'm crossing others' paths. You've seen some of the survivors, Arthur. What do you think is going to happen to me if I'm not on my guard around them?"
Eyes finally wide open, he made a vague choking noise.
Finally sure she'd gotten his attention, Belle put her palms down against the armrest. "If I don't just forget to eat and get bitten by an infected," she went on, "any number of things could happen. The survivors could rob me. They could beat me. They could cripple me, they could torture me, they could take advantage of me, they could definitely kill me—heck, they could probably beat me, rob me, take advantage of me, and then kill me. And then they might just keep going—use my dead body as bait for infecteds, or strip off my fat to fuel their home generators, or if they're really psychos, just chop me into bite-size pieces and—"
"Shut up!" Arthur's cry rang in the room like a pounded bell despite the strain behind it. Quaking, he clenched his eyes shut, but Belle had already seen enough red in his eyes to know he was on the edge of crying himself. Although she had already started to gather an argument for how terrible Kiku would feel if Arthur died despite his best efforts to save him, she dropped it. She had already gotten to Arthur, and deeper than she had needed to by the looks of it.
Swallowing, she lowered herself enough to throw her arms around his shoulders.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, wondering if he had been trying to stop her the whole time but hadn't found the voice for it. "I went too far with that."
Arthur took a few more halting breaths before he started to shake his head. "No," he stammered, mouth twisting into a hysterical smile. "I-it couldn't get to you that much. You wouldn't let any of that happen to you. Y-you're tougher than that!"
"I may be tough," she conceded quietly, pushing some of Arthur's bangs up away from his eyes, "but I still have a heart, Arthur!"
"Well—" He flicked his gaze to the side. Mumbling something too garbled for even him to understand, he took a deep breath and groped for the water bottle.
"Well, what?" Belle responded softly, guiding his hand to the bottle. "I haven't given off that impression?"
"Of course you have," Arthur stammered, attempting to sniffle quietly. "You're putting your life in quite urgent danger for some time just to check on your little brother." After downing a swig of water and recovering from the effort, he added, "And you've put up with me this long. That takes a very caring person." He glanced at Kiku but quickly returned to his drink.
Belle sighed, straightening out the damp rag while her hand was there. "Then act like you care back, okay?"
Watching her, Arthur gave a little nod as his eyes slipped shut.