The next morning when they woke up inside this warm, comfortable room, they wondered why they weren't inside their drab London apartments until Arthur reminded Francis about the wedding. Remembering the event, the sensations of excitement and impatience emerged, though with an added uncertainty about Angus. Nevertheless, they went downstairs and ate breakfast with high spirits.
After receiving permission to go away, (achieved by showing Arthur's mangy work suit to his mother) they were able to go to a suits shop in a mall complex. Despite being previously uncertain about Carroll's changes, Arthur was able to appreciate how the mall was, upon closer inspection, a light Tuscan colour to suit the red brick buildings of Carroll.
Francis had already donned a suit, a fresh, copper blue suit with an open collar, in contrast to Arthur, who wore his shabby sweater. They have already picked out a dress shirt, all that was left was the tie, the pants, and the suit jacket. Quiet hums came out as Francis searched through a rack of suit jackets, content. That was one of the tunes Francis played on his saxophone, Arthur realised. A smile crept up on Arthur's lips- he liked it when Francis wore that content, relaxed expression when he's the most comfortable.
"How's this?" Francis inquired.
"What?" He pulled out a navy coloured suit.
"Blue looks really good on you!" Arthur had been so caught up with his train of thought he didn't notice that Francis had already picked out a suit. He rubbed the back of his neck.
"Oh. Erhm, thanks." Arthur turned around in front of the mirror. The jacket was quite a nice fit, giving off a bright, clean flare different from his original work suit while still retaining a formality that Arthur enjoyed.
"It's a pretty colour," he noted, twisting his waist around. Arthur stroked his chin. To be fair, he liked a grainier texture rather than something consistent throughout. "Hmm. I wonder if they have this colour in tweed."
"Tweed?" Francis gave a small chuckle. "This is a wedding, not a TED talk." Arthur glanced at Francis' way and grinned.
"Would you rather I wear all black like to a funeral, then?"
"Arthur, that just makes it worse!" Francis exclaimed with a laugh. Arthur stroked his chin.
"Well, I think I saw a bridal place, we can go get a dress." Francis stopped mid-laugh, his brow scrunched up in a confused gaze. Arthur gave him a big grin and shrugged. "It's wedding themed, at least!" Francis stayed where he was, processing everything. With a great, big grin on his face, he collapsed onto an ottoman and rubbed his temple, laughing in defeat.
"Fine, you can have your tweed." Arthur crossed his arms, triumphant. "Professor Kirkland," Francis added. "Would you like some walking canes, too?"
Arthur spluttered, and put his hand over his chest. "Excuse me! If I'm the senior then you're the corpse!"
"A sexy corpse." Francis winked and clicked his tongue as he straightened his lapels. Arthur widened his eyes, and Francis grinned. For a second, Arthur glanced to the side, pleasantly surprised at Francis' witty comeback. How charming, he had to admit. Nevertheless, it was Arthur's turn to fall onto the ottoman as Francis laughed.
"Too bad, cause your sexiness made you die early of syphilis."
"Oh look, a virgin." Arthur narrowed his eyes as Francis bore the same triumphant smirk he had. Arthur opened his mouth, but no other clever comebacks would come out.
"Screw you," he said in defeat, half laughing. "Now are we getting the tweed suit or not?" Francis smiled and rolled his eyes.
"Fine, you win. Erhm," he looked around the area and pointed towards a rack of tweed blazers. "The tweed blazers are over there, you can look there if you want."
"Ah, surrendering your victory to me now?"
"Hey, I still have a better sense of fashion!" Pouting, Francis crossed his arms. "Or…" he looked around the area. "Hmm, will it be hot today? We can get a stylised dress shirt instead" Arthur raised an eyebrow and shook his head.
"No, definitely not. It reaches 15C here tops during Spring. Why?"
"Oh! Does it?" Francis rubbed the back of his head. "Merde, that's cold. I'm just worried that you'll overheat, that's all."
"Worried? Ah." Arthur glanced to the side as he rubbed the back of his head, a stupid smirk stretching across his face. "Thanks, that's really nice of you, but the day someone overheats outside here would be the day when pigs fly." Francis chuckled. Nevertheless, he looked towards the dress shirts rack. Widening his eyes as a silent gasp escaped between his lips, Francis dashed towards the rack. What did he see? Likely something fancy.
Sure enough, he came back carrying a satin Burgundy shirt, embroidered roses in the bottom left gleaming a stark, pearly white.
"How about this one?" He asked with a big smile. "You can wear an erhm…" he looked up and clicked his fingers. "Something like a white blazer on top!"
"Nah, I don't think that floral suits me well. No pun intended. You sure that you're not the one who wants it?" Arthur teased. Francis raised an eyebrow and huffed.
"Of course not! I… erhm… yes. Yes, I do" Dejected, Francis turned around to put the shirt back into the rack. Arthur stood up.
"If you'd like, I can buy that for you." Francis turned around, raising an eyebrow.
"Really now?"
"Mhm, yup. Let me check the price…" Arthur turned around the price tag on the sleeve. Seeing the price, he frowned. "Holy fuck, this thing's expensive." He put down the tag, shrugging in defeat. "Sorry, Francis, it's out of our budget. You know, you sure have aristocratic tastes."
After another round of witty banter, they picked the navy blue blazer from before. ("I told you it was a good choice!" "You just took the piss out of tweed.") As Arthur stepped out of the changing rooms, changed into the white dress shirt, the blazer, and matching pants, Francis looked up and down. He drew a breath in. Arthur expected something witty, but instead, Francis gave a small whistle.
"That…" Exhaling, Francis ruffled his long, golden locks. "That... looks really nice on you." Arthur raised an eyebrow. A noticeable jittery feeling welled up in his chest, itching to be released.
"Does it?" Arthur glanced down. "Huh. No one's exactly complimented on my appearance before. Raising his head up, he mustered up a smile as he made eye contact. "Thanks."
Francis raised his eyebrows, his Autumn blue eyes wide, and something funny twitched in his guts because fuck were they gorgeous and- wait what?
"Oh! Hang on," Arthur tilted his head as he watched Francis walk away towards the ties section. As Francis moved away, Arthur exhaled, glad that that weird train of thought was broken. Did he sleep enough last night? But Arthur didn't have enough time to reflect before Francis came back with an emerald green tie, the silk iridescent like the feathers of starlings. "This tie really suits your eyes. too! " Francis brought up. Arthur raised his eyebrows, praying not to drop his jaw. Oh, fuck! What was a twitch was now a kaleidoscope of insects, if he wasn't careful something weird might come out from him. He ran his hand through his own coarse hair, glancing at the floor and giving a small smile and a chuckle.
"You… you think so?" To be fair, no one really commented on the colour of his eyes before. But hell, Francis was sincere!
Francis gave a reassuring nod. He had already hung the tie around Arthur's neck, tying the sleek fabric with careful fingers. As he tightened the tie, they looked into the mirror to see the result.
The tie really was a similar shade to his own eyes. That, and the jewel-like colour suited the dark, indigo blue suit well. With that, his outfit was complete. Arthur adjusted the suit jacket, turning a little in the mirror.
"It… it looks great," Arthur replied. This was a nice suit. A really nice suit. He turned towards Francis. "Thanks," he said with a small smile. Francis ruffled his own long, blonde hair, and Arthur gulped as he noticed how long his eyelashes were.
"Simply doing my part, that's all," he replied with a wink.
On the way to the checkout, Arthur spotted a tie with a similar pattern to the burgundy shirt. It was a pretty thing, the pearly embroidered roses covering the entire tie.
"Here." Arthur snatched the tie from the shelf, Francis turned around, raising his eyebrows, a curious look on his face. "Uh, I think you'll look really nice with this. It should be within our budget, too." Arthur found himself wrap the tie around Francis' neck. Francis bundled his golden hair into a ponytail as Arthur tied the piece of fabric. "I could buy this as a thank you or something. You know, for helping me pick my suit." Arthur cursed himself for how awkward that sounded. "And…" Arthur took a step back and put his hands onto his wait, looking up and down. On second thought, no, Francis did more than just pick him a suit. "And… thanks for sticking with me and supporting me and such."
"Oh." Francis fished out his phone, turning on the camera and looking at the reflection. Putting his phone down, his clear, Autumn sky eyes meeting Arthur's gaze. "It's… beautiful. I love it." He gave Arthur gentle smile, awakening the kaleidoscope of insects again. "Thank you so much!"
Arthur rubbed the back of his head, a smile stretching up his face, too. "Welcome."
The wedding revenue was outdoors at an orchard, the trees crusted with white blooms as the scent of apple flowers drifting in the wind, floating upon the grass like confetti. It was a beautiful, sunny day today, the sky a powder blue and the clouds sparse. A wedding arch twirled with fairy lights stood at the end.
By the time they have arrived, Arthur's family was still preparing for the wedding, the chairs arriving in their strollers from a rental truck and the tables for the reception rolling in as well. His mother, already in a floral A-line dress, talked with one of the rental people. Arthur smiled. He had a hunch that his mother would both be the wedding organiser and the officiator, being the hardworking woman that she was. Dylan stood near the aisle, tuning his violin as a harp stood next to him. Even Peter and Connor helped unstack the chairs. Angus was, of course, being the groom, nowhere to be seen.
At the sight of the harp, Arthur furrowed his eyebrows and scratched his head. There was someone in his family who played the harp, he couldn't remember who…
A ginger-haired man arrived and delved into a conversation with him. He squinted, racking his brains. He knew that person, who was it? Glancing at Connor, he remembered that he had an older brother named Seán.
"Oh, hey! Arthur!" Seán called out as he waved.
"Seán!" Arthur called out as said person paced nearer. Seán had grown a goatee and now sported a more skeletal frame, though he still had his mischievous twinkle in his mossy green eyes.
"Arthur! Ah, feck!" He gave him a slick slap on the shoulder. "Haven't seen you in a million years! Look at you!" He patted Arthur on the head. It was then Arthur remembered that since Seán lived in Ireland, he hadn't seen his cousin Seán in at least... 10 years. "You've grown so much since the last time I've seen you! Aw ya little tyke, look atcha! What have you been drinking, giraffe milk?"
"Oi, Seán, stop that!" Arthur stepped away and rubbed his nose. Well, good to see Seán's cheeky as always. "Meanwhile, I could see that you've gone old."
"Hah! Old? I'm like fine wine, I get better the longer I age," he replied with a wink.
"In your dreams." To his distress, Seán didn't seem to listen as he looked behind Arthur's shoulder.
"Oh, who's this guy?" Seán asked. Arthur turned his head around and realised that Francis was behind him.
"Oh, that's Francis," Arthur replied. Francis stepped forward and gave Seán a hearty handshake.
'Nice to meet you, Seán!"
"You too! Hey, say, congratulations, Arthur!" Arthur raised an eyebrow.
"What? Seán, this better not be a friendless joke."
"Even better!" Seán replied with another wink, a dangerous glimmer in his eyes. Arthur squinted. Oh fuck, what was it this time? "One of ya better catch the bouquet, ya hear?"
Arthur and Francis stood, dazed. Realising what Seán implied, panic crashed onto then like a wave.
"SEÁN! NO! Good God it's not what it seems-!"
"I came along since Angus is my pen pal, I SWEAR-!"
"And we knew each other and I wasn't going to come until Francis-!"
"Well, the story of how we meet is rather strange but as a friend, I'm helping-!"
Instead of acting apologetic as they had hoped, Seán raised an eyebrow in a quizzing fashion. He squinted, his eyes darting left to right as he stroked his goatee. Seán exhaled and shrugged.
"Alright, Arthur, whatever you say." Before they could object, Seán had paced next to Dylan to rehearse for the wedding. The two, still dumbfounded, glanced at each other, both sharing a nervous look.
"OI!" Arthur yelled, "SEÁN! You cheeky f…" shit, Mum was near. "Fiend! We're just friends!" Arthur shot back, adrenaline pumping at high speed. Seán glanced over his shoulder, looked up and down, and grinned.
"Look at yerself!" Arthur raised an eyebrow. "You're red as a beet, Art~" Was all he said before he walked next to Dylan. Arthur's eyes bugged out of their sockets before he slapped his hands onto his face. Fuck, was he really that red?! Lo and behold, his cheeks were absolutely boiling. Come to think of it, he was wondering why the surrounding air was turning so cold, too. Well, voilà! It was because he blushed so hard he might as well be a hot water bottle! Congratulations, Arthur Kirkland! You look like a right fool!
Arthur glanced back at Francis, who twisted his lips, glancing to the side, his skin a vivid peachy shade, though not as dark as Arthur's. Right, Francis was likely just as embarrassed as he was.
"Don't know what got into him," Arthur muttered. Francis only gave a small nod.
"What a strange connection," Francis muttered, giving out a small, airy laugh in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. Arthur tried to laugh, too, but his insides were still boiling, so it sounded more like a cough our a hiccup. Embarrassed, Arthur cleared his throat.
"Yeah, joke's on him, we're just friends." That was hardly a joke at all, but at least it was something. Arthur didn't like Francis. Well, not in that way, but only in a friends way. Nothing more to that. That's it. Whatever else kind of language he could think of. Anything else is likely an overreaction. Besides, there was too much shit going in their lives for something like that. What a right prick, Seán was. "Sorry about that," Arthur added. Francis nodded, though he focused his gaze on Seán's trail, his brows furrowed in thought. Twisting his tongue inside his cheek, he nodded and said nothing else.
Did he say something wrong? Likely. Thankfully Francis was a forgiving person, so he needn't fret. They put their energy into helping prepare for the wedding for the rest of the morning, arranging the chairs, brushing off the excess petals, until the wedding venue was all set up. They both watched as Dylan and Seán talked discussed when to play the music, how to play it, practise the traditional wedding march, and talking to a blonde haired girl who was likely the flower girl. Marianne hadn't arrived yet, as expected for the bride, though neither had Angus. He was likely practising his vows, he reasoned to himself.
"I could see why this place was chosen for the wedding," Francis brought up. "Erhm… ever been here before?" Arthur furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head.
"No, not really." Francis nodded, and soon they were back to work. Might as well, after, well, that, they weren't in the mood for a conversation.
Shortly after they finished arranging the chairs and the tables, the wedding guests started to arrive at the reception. First were Marianne's parents, who they recognised from last night. A lot more flooded into the area later on, filling the quiet daytime air with their conversations. Most of the guests were likely from Marianne's side of the family since Arthur didn't recognise most of them. As chatter buzzed throughout the atmosphere, Arthur squinted, realising that he couldn't understand what they were saying.
Realising that they muttered the same words as in Francis' French, he raised his eyebrows. "Holy shit, they're all frogs," he muttered. Francis whipped his head towards the direction of Marianne's family and raised his eyebrows.
"They are!" Francis gave a small chuckle. Grinning, he nudged Arthur's arm. "Congratulations, looks like us Rosbifs and Frogs kinsmen now." Arthur smirked and nudged him back.
"Sod off, you're not even related to them!" They both laughed in unison and hushed to not draw too much attention from the surrounding guests.
But Arthur hushed completely when Angus stepped under the arch. Arthur's smile died down as the bottled up worries flooded back. Thankfully, Angus' conversation with mum occupied him. Mum glanced at Arthur, though Angus had his back turned on Arthur.
Francis gave Arthur a reassuring pat.
"Don't fret, Francis, I'm clear." Francis nodded. Looking down, he held Arthur's tie and adjusted it. Arthur looked down. A noticeable heat welled in his cheeks as Arthur made eye contact. Francis gave him a small smile, and Arthur smiled back.
"Thanks."
When a girl in a pretty floral dress stood at the end of the aisle, everyone hushed and cooed. It was the same girl from earlier who spoke with Seán, her long, golden hair swept into two pigtails, a basket of white rose petals in her hands. She was likely a relative of Marianne's since a lot of Marianne's relatives cooed and gasped, a hushed conversation brewing on their end. Francis gasped and put his hands over his mouth as well. Arthur grinned, but he couldn't blame them all, she was a cute child.
At Sean's nod, the girl strolled down the aisle as Dylan and Sean started the prologue of the wedding march. Together, the gentle duet of the violin and the harp mingled into a gentle, soothing melody as the girl sprinkled rose petals onto the grass.
Soon, the bridesmaids followed and strolled down the aisle, too. Everyone gasped once the bride. A silent gasp escaped his lips once he whipped his head around, too. Marianne, now this regal, ethereal, delicate nymph in her lily-white Empire dress and wispy veil, stood, no, floated at the end of the aisle. A soft, gentle expression smile on her face, a bouquet of milky lilies in her hands. Raising her head up, the violin-harp duet welcomed her as she drifted down the aisle. Arthur looked back towards Angus, who, eyes wide, looked at Marianne with, for the first time he had seen since coming back, this careful, loving gaze. Marianne responded with a small smile, a blush flushing through the veil, and Angus... smiled.
It was a side that Arthur rarely saw from Angus. For a second, even only a second, he seemed almost forgiving. So, so far away from the uncaring self that he had seen.
"Dearly beloved," his mother started once Marianne stepped beneath the arch, "we have come here to witness the joining of two souls in matrimony. Today is the most fundamental celebration that will forever be remembered years from now, into one's old age when their hands wrinkles and their vision falters." As Mum carried on with her speech, Marianne held Angus' hand and stroked it with her thumb- likely to calm a nervous Angus. He was shifting side to side, Arthur realised, something people often did when they were nervous. Angus? Nervous? Those were two words that Arthur never thought would come together.
But again, Angus' bound to have changed over these past 7 years. He must've changed, otherwise why else would he need to be comforted like that? The Angus he knew would never be comforted like that. Arthur reflected over Angus when they were kids. As a kid, Angus teased him relentlessly, often in front of his other friends. Reading his favourite written works out loud a goofy voice, vandalising his belongings, stealing his possessions when he wasn't looking. Of course, when Mum came, Angus gave his story back with a dishonest sorry or hid the vandalised things somewhere to return them cleaned the next day or placed the belonging back before Mum could search this room. Angus was never caught red-handed back then, that was what infuriated him as a kid, always shrugging it off with a laugh when confronted.
Arthur looked up. And now Angus was a full grown man, getting married. So much must've happened since they were kids. Arthur compared himself now to who he was 7 years ago, back when his dreams of becoming an author were fresh in his mind and he believed that this was the path he will take. Now, he understood that this was a lot more complicated. It took someone with a lot of patience and luck to achieve, both of which he never had.
If Arthur had changed so much since he had left, so must've Angus. And if he held grudges, yet still able to find a love… that definitely told him how much Angus had changed.
He heard a small sigh and glanced to his side. Francis, leaning back onto the chair with his arms crossed, watching the two. Such a hopeless romantic. But when Arthur remembered about Francis' fiancee, the small drop of content shrivelled and dried up. Arthur looked away.
"Feeling sad?" Francis whispered to Arthur. He glanced up, meeting Francis' sky blue eyes. Glancing to the side, he nodded.
"Reflective suits me more, I think." In relation to Angus, he didn't feel like bringing up Francis' fiancee.
"Reflective?" Arthur shrugged.
"Angus' changed a lot." Francis raised an eyebrow. He glanced to the side and back at Arthur. With a quiet huff, he looked down.
"I don't know if it's a positive change." Arthur reached forward and brushed a stray golden lock away. Francis looked up.
"I thank you all for attending this union," his mother continued. Arthur glanced her way. His eyes fell upon Angus, and then to Marianne. They were all busy, with Angus nervous, Marianne comforting him, and his mother reciting the words. Having a conversation during the ceremony, even if they couldn't hear, seemed disrespectful.
"Let's talk after the wedding, Francis," Arthur whispered as he retracted his hands. Francis glanced his way and gave a small nod. After that, they sat back and watched the rest of the ceremony unfold.
"To describe our to-be newlyweds, I think of the words written by the Bard himself:
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
Finally, the newlyweds exchanged their "I do's" and the ceremony was sealed with a kiss. As the rest of the guests cheered and clapped, Arthur found himself clapping along as well.
The afternoon flew by during the reception and the sky mellowed into a deeper periwinkle colour. As the sky darkened, draping everything in a silhouette, the fairy lights flicked on, giving an ethereal quality to the space. With the official ceremony completed, jovial chatter filled the area again. Francis and Arthur loitered, having brief conversations with Marianne's relatives and some of Arthur's family, as well as conversing with each other and attending some of the reception's activities (thankfully, the bouquet fell into the hands of one of Marianne's bridesmaids, much to Sean's dismay). After Arthur reassured him that he would be fine, Francis excused himself to talk with some of Marianne's relatives in French. Of course, it must be nice to speak in your native language again after so long. Francis had such a nice smile- a spike of adrenaline struck, Arthur mentally slapped himself. No, Francis was just a friend! What was wrong with wanting a friend to be happy? Besides, Francis just happened to be an attractive, nice man, that was all.
Arthur stood back, sipping some water from the cup as he scanned the area. The sky had darkened into a vibrant navy blue as the reception neared completion. As the main source of light, the fairy lights framed the surrounding silhouettes of the wedding guests in a white halo. With the main conversation, subjects said, the jovial chatter simmered into some small talk.
At the sight of someone stepping a little farther away from the reception, Arthur widened his eyes. It was Angus, holding a glass of wine as he scanned the reception. Thankfully looking away from Arthur, though. Arthur reminded himself about the reflection he had during the ceremony. Would he like to do something in response to that? The answer was… yes, he would like to do something about these conflicted feelings. Besides, today was his wedding day, Angus should be far from a foul mood. And the less foul, the better.
Angus jolted when Arthur tapped his shoulder. Arthur's heart hammered against his ribcage as they made eye contact. His eyes wide and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, he took a step back and took a sip from the glass.
"What do you want?" Angus asked, nearly demanded. Arthur glanced downwards out of habit but made himself make eye contact. What should he say? Think, Arthur. Come on, Angus was waiting.
"Well?"
"All that I'm saying is that… congratulations," was what came out. Angus stared back, his eyebrows raised in surprise. Arthur had to admit, he was surprised, too. "You've, well, changed a lot since we were kids, I could tell. And… I suppose I'm glad. Because I don't have to dislike you for who you were back then anymore. And... I hope that we can both put the past behind us from onwards." Angus, with a suspicious gaze, squinted. Chills shot up Arthur's spine as the temperature of the air plummeted. "Development-wise," he quickly added. "You've changed a lot since 7 years ago, and so have I. We both know better now, and clinging onto the past won't do us any better. At this point, it's like our past mistakes are made by a different person. At one point, we're supposed to move on or something, I-I think." Arthur realised that he only said that last sentence because he was too nervousness. The surroundings turned to ice, freezing him to the spot as Angus glared. Arthur drew a deep breath in. No, he will not break down. This is a simple conversation. In a word or two, it will be over. But Angus' stern gaze proved otherwise. "Okay? It's your wedding, you should-" Angus pushed his hand away.
"Don't play the devil's advocate." Angus' words stung him to Arthur very core.
"I…" Angus walked away, sipping his wine. Arthur frowned. Fuck. What did he do wrong? "Angus, what-"
"You think that everything can be solved just like that, huh? Can just a word or two excuse several years? Blaming your own problems like they were done by someone else?" Arthur took a step back. He… he had a point. The different person thing, that was this mental thing. You couldn't discard your responsibilities, no matter how much of this different person thing you showered yourself with. Wanting to calm himself down, he took a deep breath in.
"No, but-"
"Then don't say anything," he shot back, continuing walking forward.
"I'm just saying that clinging onto the past is bad-"
"You said that already."
"Fine, but what is the alternative, then? Should I still hate you for vandalising my shit when we were kids?" Angus glared back, his eyes chips of ice. Looking up and down Arthur, he sighed, shook his head and walked away. "Angus, wait!" Angus ignored him. Why? He was doing the sensible thing, apologising. Fire boiling in his veins, Arthur grabbed him by the shoulder. Angus looked back and tried to shake Arthur off, but Arthur grasped tight.
"What do you want, Angus? I did what I needed to do, I came back, I said my apologies, what more do you want? Angus, don't do this, today-" Angus shook his hand away.
"Don't act all high and mighty, that shit doesn't fly anymore." High and mighty? Arthur frowned. No, he was just being sensible! Arthur realised that he was starting to become angry. If he became too emotional, he'll create a scene. Taking a deep breath in, he let the pressure inside escape as he breathed out.
"What do you mean?" He asked, trying his best to be neutral. Angus squinted, unconvinced.
"Don't act daft, either, you know what you did, you know what you are. For God's sake, you're a writer, aren't you supposed to know that shit?" The pressure welled up again and Arthur's hand tightened into a fist. He let go. "You want the truth?" Angus asked. Arthur frowned and looked to the side. "You want to know what I see?" Arthur didn't need to answer. "I see a spoilt, manipulative brat," he spat. "Too upset that you didn't become some famous author in London so you're scampering back, huh? Acting like a saint now to please everyone, huh?" Arthur's lower lip trembled as he clenched his jaw, his heart hammering in his ribcages, threatening to erupt. Was this… was this all true? No.
"I… I'm not-" Angus stuck a finger to his chest. Arthur froze. To his surprise, Angus gave a shallow laugh as he shook his head.
"You wanted to leave to prove a point, didn't you? Prove a point to prove that you're smarter than all of us as if you're this prodigy leaving behind his backwards family." Prove a point… Arthur glanced down. It was shameful, but yes. It was true. Back then, he did believe that he could be famous.
"I was a stupid teen, I'm not all that self-righteous now."
"Oh, really now? I didn't play the devil's advocate. I did what I needed to do. I don't know what you're talking about. I was a stupid teen. You notice anything, Arthur? All those I's?" Arthur widened his eyes. "Sounds like something said by a megalomaniac to me-"
"You're being delusional! That shit's got nothing to do with anything, I was just saying the truth-!"
"Your truth!" Angus shot back, his face red from straining. "For you, everything has to be all about you. You wanted to teach us that hey, you're too good for this town. You're gonna make us all feel bad that we didn't give you respect, didn't you?"
A chill struck down his spine. What Angus said… yes, he hated to admit it, it was true. He was a selfish piece of shit back then. But that isn't who he is now!
"That-!"
"Well guess what, Arthur? This isn't one of your stories where you're the hero or whatever, this is real life, you are not the protagonist, don't be a selfish asshole!" Angus heaved after finishing that sentence, his glare still concentrated on Arthur. Arthur glanced to the side but forced himself to look forward. Wanting to calm his nerves, he drew a deep breath in.
"I'm trying to improve myself every day. Yes, what I did was wrong. Yes, I regret it. Yes, I would never do that again." But still, Angus glared on, his face flushing red the longer he retained eye contact. What more did he want?
Angus sighed, took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Arthur. Fine," he started in a surprisingly calm voice as he folded his glasses, "you regret it. But have you ever thought about how this affected the rest of us? Still thinking about yourself, huh?" How this affected… Arthur widened his eyes. What did happen once he left? Surely not the worst possibility, was it? Mum was strong. Dylan was merciful. Peter was too young. Right? But Angus… Angus knew the truth. He opened his mouth, wanting to respond, but no matter how long, nothing would come out.
Every inch of him trembled as he struggled to bring up a substitute. "That's… that's… i-it-"
"You wanted to know what happened here after you left, Arthur?" Angus asked, his voice quiet, his ice-cold eyes chipping into his skull. Arthur took a step back, but Angus grabbed his tie and yanked him forward, forcing him right up to his flushed face. "You ever wondered that? Hm? Tell me. What did you think happened?" Despite forcing himself to calm down, his hands shook and quivered. No… he assumed that they were all fine. Sure, they would've been sad, but… it's nothing too serious, right?
"Mum… Mum is a tough woman, she would've been a little sad and then picked herself up right away. Dylan is a little more sensitive…" but he would've been affected the most. "... but I'm sure he's able to get on with his life like Mum. Peter was 6 at the time, he wouldn't be able to remember much now, anyway."
Angus let go of the tie. He stood back, crossing his arms, a judgemental frown on his face. How bad was it? Leaning in, he gave Arthur the answer:
"Mum had to quit her job." A sharp shard of ice struck Arthur down the spine. "She blamed herself for your departure, she thought that she was too selfish. She wouldn't sleep, or, or rest, or eat, even, she lost her job because she missed too many days. And Dylan." Angus' expression changed from furious to absolutely sorrowful. He was shaking as if holding everything back. "You know how sensitive he is! He thought that he was responsible for your leaving, too, even though all he did was stay in the background. He closed himself off, he lies now, he lies that everything is fine when he's not fine, he forces himself to recover and move on too quickly now. Peter…" Angus sighed. "He was 6 when you left. He'd ask when you will come back, he wanted to make phone calls, once he wanted us to take him to London so that he'd find you and bring you home."
Arthur stood, stunned, the blood in his veins frozen as he struggling to process all of the information. "How could you?" Angus continued. How could you… how could you… how could he? Arthur clenched onto his suit's material, urging himself not to have some sort of outburst. "Got any justification for that?" Arthur looked down, the telltale signs of tears pricking up. "Just what I thought."
Angus left. Angus joined Marianne and her parents, who welcomed him with a smile. Arthur's grip tightened as his jaw clenched. But what Angus said… who cared about what Angus said?
How could he resume into a conversation after that? Was that it, just a harsh slap on the back of his hand, just to feel justice? What, so he thinks that past mistakes can be solved with that? What a sorry excuse that was, what a sorry hypocrite Angus was, thinking that he can declare that Arthur worked out his problems with words when he did the same.
Marching forward, he clenched Angus on the shoulder. Angus whipped his head back, eyes wide.
"If you are really that upset about it, why don't you go back in time and fix that?" Angus froze.
"Arthur-"
"Are you really that stubborn to assume that no one changes and that their mistakes are permanent? Tell me, Angus, how much have you changed?"
"You… you don't understand." Silence.
"Neither do you. You think that you've changed. You have a medical degree, you have a wife, and congratulations, you have your 'justice'. But those things do not matter." Arthur stuck a finger into Angus' chest. "You're just a two, faced, coward," he continued, sticking his finger at every word. "If you really worry about Mum, Dylan, and Peter, why don't you talk with them yourself?" Angus widened his eyes and glanced to the side. "Or is this some sort of twisted justice thing where you just want to make yourself feel better, huh? Who's the megalomaniac now? Who's the devil's advocate now? For a doctor, you sure are stupid. Do you know why Angus? Because you…" Arthur's breath laboured as his finger shook. "You… YOU ARE STILL A FUCKING CUNT-"
CRACK!
The cold, hard lawn collided with the back of his head. Arthur sat up, a hot liquid flooding in his nose as an intense pain pulsed. Pulling out a handkerchief, he scrunched it up and put it under his nose to soak up any dripping blood. Seeing Angus tower over him, Arthur stood up, tucking the handkerchief away.
Punches were thrown, insults were shouted as they wrestled each other in the grass, onlookers screaming. But Arthur didn't care. All that mattered was satisfying this boiling, pounding adrenaline pumping through his veins.
"ARTHUR!" Someone yelled, with an Angus that followed up. Angus slammed his head into the ground, but Arthur kicked back with his knee between Angus' ribcage, wrestling, his face red from the pounding blood, his eyes wet from the angry tears.
Two people dragged them apart as Angus grabbed Arthur by the lapel and they struggled. In the struggle, the body of the jacket ripped away from the sleeve. Arthur nearly threw a punch back at Angus-
"STOP IT!" Arthur struggled against the strong grips of some fucktard as they dragged him away.
"LET ME GO! FUCKING LET ME GO YOU CUNT!" Angus was right in front of him! He kicked, he screamed, anything to make whatever bastard behind him let go. "LET!..."
A wisp of golden hair drifted beside him.
It was Francis. Good Francis, who gave him the courage to come back. Only for everything to come to this.
Suddenly, Arthur was aware of what was happening. He had been fighting with his brother. His leaking nose pulsed, the blood dripping onto his new ripped suit. Tears and mucus leaked down his red, hot face, all shiny.
He had fought Angus on his wedding day. In front of his wife. In front of his in-laws. In front of mum. In front of Francis, who had encouraged him so much. They have seen it all. Thanks to him, what should have been a perfect day was ruined.
What have I done?
And… scene!
Fun fact: the flower girl is Nyo Canada ^^ as always, my love for Shakespeare strikes again. In the next chapter, we will get a little bit of perspective from the rest of Arthur's family. GOSH I love writing this arc, not sure if Arthur would agree, however.
This is the first 5K chapter I've written within 2 weeks. Feedback, plz? I would like to know if the tone and the pacing work, since I'm trying to do a more consistent schedule from now on