Now, Arthur's idea would've been better if the night wasn't blasting him with an ocean's worth of water.
Arthur gripped the handle of his suitcase tighter and shielded himself with his arm as he made his way through the fierce gale. Fearing that the delicate umbrella would snap in the wind, he closed it and clutched the spindly contraption tightly. Even with the rain pelting down at him with all that it had, he could make the rest of the way back, despite the umbrella having no use in a storm so strong the rain spat sideways. He was nearly at his house's street-
The solitary street lamps flickered and turned off, engulfing him into inky darkness, black enough that he might as well have closed his eyes. Arthur growled. Onwards, he instructed himself as he shielded his eyes with his arm. If he had to make it back through the dark for the final stretch, so be it.
Francis frowned as he sipped some tea (they sadly had no coffee since the Kirklands were a family of tea drinkers) and watched the rain pound the windows. A few spots of light from the street lamps stood out against the inky black night as the rain poured down. The Kirkland household was a stark contrast to this, the inside of the house illuminated by a warm yellow light.
"Does it usually rain down this hard?" Francis asked. Boadicea looked up from her cup of tea and looked out of the window. Furrowing her eyebrows, she nodded.
"I'm afraid so. Rains cats and dogs out there during the spring and autumn," Boadicea replied as she sipped her cup of tea.
Francis jolted and whipped his head up to look at the ceiling as the lights spluttered on and off, struggling to keep the dining room from being plunged into darkness. Immediately, Boadicea stood up and went down the hallway.
"Hey, where are you going?" Francis asked.
"Getting the torch, looks like there's going to be a blackout." Sure enough, the lights went out almost instantly. Francis widened his eyes, clutching the mug of tea tighter as he stared inti the black - staying in the dark by yourself as the storm outside roared was never fun. With the house pitch black, all he could hear was an ocean's worth of water pelting on the roof and the water in the gutters surging down the drain.
Luckily, a circle of light appeared as Boadicea arrived with a torch, a bag of candles and a box of matches.
"Here, hold this." Boadicea handed Francis the flashlight and put the bag of candles onto the table. "Apologies for the blackout. The lights should come back on in a few hours," she muttered as she pulled out a skinny matchstick, striking it on the side of the matchbox. Soon a single flame appeared on the tip of the match. Boadicea picked up a fat candle and lit the tip, placing it onto the middle of the table.
A shock of adrenaline struck down his spine as a knock came from outside the front door.
"I'll answer it," Boadicea declared as she blew the match out. "Mind if I borrow the torch?" Francis handed her the torch, prompting her to walk towards the door. Who could it be? It might be Peter, since he had been at a friend's house. A small part of his mind wondered if it might've been Angus.
Never could he imagine that it was Arthur.
Francis stood up and rushed to the corridor. "Arthur!" Even from far away, Francis could tell that Arthur was completely drenched. Raindrops dangled from the tips of his hair, his coat, and his suitcase. Arthur drew out his umbrella and shook off the rainwater before stepping inside.
"Arthur! Why are you back here?" Boadicea asked incredulously as she closed the door. Arthur rubbed the back of his neck and looked down.
"I... figured I shouldn't leave again. There's still a lot of things I need to do." Arthur furrowed his eyebrows. "Well, I was scared I… I realised that if I didn't come back, I might not have ever seen you again." Arthur furrowed his eyebrows as he glanced away. He was always afraid of saying the wrong thing. Francis knew that so much had been on Arthur's mind recently, and that sentence alone didn't convey all of his worries. But it did convey his decision.
Boadicea stood back, her eyebrows furrowed in thought, clearly considering how to reply. She didn't need to, as Arthur wrapped his mother into a hug. A silent gasp escaped out of Francis at the sudden action— Arthur rarely showed his soft side, much less expressed it. Francis couldn't help but smile at the sight as a fuzzy feeling arose. Remembering suddenly that this was a private moment for Arthur, he quickly glanced away.
"Let me get you a towel, Arthur. You're absolutely drenched!" Boadicea exclaimed once they'd parted. She frowned as she looked at Arthur's dripping wet form. "Tell you what, a towel's no use. You can go upstairs, take a shower and get into your warmer clothes…" her voice trailed off when she noticed Arthur glancing at Francis' direction. Arthur widened his eyes at the sight of Francis. Francis couldn't help but hitch his breath at the eye contact.
"ARTHUR!" Overwhelmed by emotions, Francis tackled Arthur into a hug. "YOU'VE COME BACK! I had no idea what was going to happen!"
"Francis?"
"And I felt so guilty-"
"Francis, watch my bruises!"
"Ah!" Francis let go at Arthur's pained grunt. "Right, erhm…" As Arthur took off his coat, Francis furrowed his eyebrows and stroked his chin at the soaked bandage on his nose. "Arthur, where's the first aid kit?" Arthur raised an eyebrow.
"What for?"
"Your bandage, it's absolutely soaked… oh, right, sorry," he let out a small laugh. "Do you remember where it is? I know you haven't…"
"It's in the kitchen," Boadicea interrupted. She stepped forward and gave Francis the torch. "Top cabinet, nearest one to the stove."
Francis smiled and nodded. "Thanks, Boadicea," he said before embarking on his journey for the first aid kit. As Boadicea fussed over her son, Francis sighed, occupied by his thoughts. He really wanted to talk to Arthur once he found the first aid kit. He had already been missing their conversations when Arthur had stepped out the door earlier. Taking a deep breath in, Francis reached up and opened the cabinet to look for the first aid box.
Soon, Arthur and Boadicea were in the laundry room. Arthur was drying himself with a towel and changing into some dry clothes (thankfully his suitcase was waterproof so the contents were dry) while Boadicea wrung the wet clothes over the sink in preparation of washing and drying them once the power came back on.
"Do you have anything in your pockets?" She asked as she groped around the soggy pockets of Arthur's coat. Arthur didn't need to answer as she pulled out a rectangular box too fat and small to be a phone.
"Hey, mum, wait-!" Too late - Boadicea had already seen.
It was an opened cigarette box.
Boadicea raised her eyebrows. Arthur smoked? She turned her head around. Arthur widened his eyes at the sight of the box in her hands. Looking up again, he hung his head and shrugged.
"I've got nothing to say for myself." Boadicea looked down at the box again and furrowed her eyebrows. She huffed.
"After what happened today I'd do the same," she admitted. "Well, this box is wet now so can I throw it out?" As she had expected, a surprised expression was plastered across Arthur's face at the comment. "It's fine, it's not like I'll castrate you for smoking." Arthur scrunched up his face, still a little unsure. In the end, he shrugged again.
"Yeah. Ok."
Boadicea walked into the kitchen and threw out the box into the bin. While there, she saw that Francis was in the kitchen, searching the top cabinet for the first aid kit. Had he not found it yet? She furrowed her eyebrows, trying to recollect where she had seen it last.
"Francis!"
"Hm?" Francis turned around.
"Apologies, the first aid kit's in my car since it was used for the wedding. Erhm, I think the backup one's in the bathroom upstairs." Francis nodded.
"Alright, got that! Boad... erhm, Boadicea's quite a mouthful, do you have a nickname?" A nickname?
"Well… my friends used to call me Bo."
"Bo!" Francis smiled. "Sounds great. Thanks, Bo," he added before heading upstairs.
With not much left to do, Arthur and Boadicea sat at the table. It was still raining outside, though it had at least calmed down a little.
"Don't think it's rained this hard since I left," Arthur brought up. "Well, I've been in London this entire time, so what do I know?" Boadicea furrowed her eyebrows. Did it? Arthur left sometime during September, so it was Autumn - naturally there would be a lot of rain. That night, the night he left, an ocean's worth of water plummeted onto the town, something a lot like tonight.
"No. It's been a while since it rained this hard."
"Ah." A pause. "Thank you for the umbrella by the way."
"Wouldn't fancy you getting a cold, after all." Arthur nodded, and then it was another round of awkward silence.
"Angus told me about… about how our family fell apart and all." Boadicea raised her head.
"Really?" She had known that Angus likely started the conversation, but not on the basis of… of, well, their family after Arthur left. She straightened her posture, wanting to ask questions, but curious at what Arthur had to say. "And… about how you got depressed and all. He was right, I shouldn't have left, but… but I just wanted to feel important." Feel important? Did Arthur not feel loved enough? "I don't know how that must've felt. I mean, it must've been awful." Arthur tapped his fingers onto the table's wood, taking in deep breaths as if preparing to say something. "A-are you okay now, mum?" Boadicea raised her eyebrows at that question, surprised. Was she ok? That was a question Boadicea rarely got. She always kept a stiff upper lip - do what you needed to do, lick your wounds later if you must. Yet again, this was one of the few times where that ideology failed. Boadicea rubbed the back of her neck.
"Yes. It's been a few years after all. It's been hard, but at the end of the day, the world still spins and you've got to keep up with it, otherwise you get left behind." Arthur nodded.
"What was it like?" What was it like? Talking about the past was never her favourite thing. But for the sake of Arthur's question… maybe she could let it slide. She glanced down and chewed her bottom lip.
"What was it like... " she rubbed the back of her neck. "I have to admit, I blamed everything on myself for a while, and... I thought your actions were, on a level, justified." Of course, that was the bare minimum of what had happened. It was funny, looking back on something you have already moved on from and knowing that it meant so much to you. Arthur nodded. Hanging his head down, he circled his thumbs. Knowing that he had something to say, Boadicea waited.
"I'm sorry. I… I took everything for granted, mum." Took everything for granted? "I really missed having family around me. I really missed your dishes, but I was too scared that it was too late to come back." Arthur sighed, tapping his fingers onto the wood again. "Francis convinced me to come back. Without him I… I-I would've stayed in London and never come back like a coward, because… because I was so scared of what happened after I left Carroll. And because of me, you got depressed, Dylan's not himself anymore, and Peter had to see all of this when all this could've been prevented if, if I-I wasn't so narcissistic back then."
Boadicea didn't know how to respond at Arthur's confession. All this time, she had thought she was the one who was wrong. But that was on the back of her mind at the sight of Arthur hanging his head down, trying to hide something.
"Arthur?" She stood up and sat on the chair beside him. "Love, it's okay," she murmured as she wrapped him in one of her arms, rubbing his back gently. "I thought that I was at fault, too. And… to be fair I learnt a lesson then."
"But lessons shouldn't make you hurt like this!" Arthur protested as he raised his head. There was a silver sheen that shimmered over his lovely green eyes, warning tears. Boadicea grabbed the tissue box and handed it to him.
"Shh, sometimes it does, love," she whispered, wiping the edge of his eyes.
"Either way, it not your fault, mum." Arthur stayed still for her, even though there weren't a lot of tears. "It's because of me leaving anyway that made you so depressed." Boadicea furrowed her eyebrows. So was this what it was about? Arthur blaming himself for her depression? Here she blamed herself.
"And it was because of my stubbornness that you left." Arthur widened his eyes at those words. He blinked, processing what he had heard.
"It… it was? No no, but then I wanted to go to that London university anyway."
"You were accepted, I didn't want you to go even though you'd earned yourself that place." Arthur furrowed his eyebrows, confused.
"But... what about the fact that I didn't come back? You're not mad?"
"At least you're back now." Boadicea mustered up a small smile for her son. "Better late than never." Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, confused at what he had heard. His eyebrows relaxed and he let out a small huff.
"I… guess we're both responsible some way or another then. But that's okay. At the end of the day, the earth still spins, doesn't it?" To her surprise, Arthur mustered up a small smile, too. It tugged her heart strings to see her son be happy like this. "Thanks, mum." A small gasp escaped out of her mouth as Arthur wrapped his arms around her. She blinked. Was this really happening? With shaky hands, Boadicea wrapped her hands around Arthur's back.
They grasped on each other tightly for a few minutes, enjoying each other's company. Boadicea had to admit, it was nice having to hug Arthur again, and it was rare for Arthur to want the hug. How long had it been? She didn't care, this was her son Arthur, she would take all night if she needed to.
Sadly, the hug had to end at some point, so they let go. "Alright," Arthur started, a fresh determination in his voice. "Where's Peter? I want to catch up with him." Boadicea stroked her chin.
"He's at his friend's house."
"Oh. Erhm…" Arthur chewed the bottom of his lip. "Angus…"
"Angus lives with Marianne, their apartment's on the other side of town."
"Ah." Arthur huffed down and lied onto the table, dejected. There was one more brother left, Boadicea thought. On cue, Arthur perked up.
"What about Dylan?" Boadicea looked at the stairs.
"Well, Dylan's upstairs, and he might need a bigger candle."
Dylan had been upstairs reading a book when the lights went out. He went downstairs to get a candle- thanking his mother in the process- and went upstairs again. Only a small stub, since there wasn't much left of his book, anyway.
But very quickly, the candle ran out, too. Now in the dark, he huffed and placed the book onto his bed. As lightning flashed, it gleamed off his violin case.
It had been really sunny at the wedding. So quick to turn into a storm.
He shook his head, wanting to distract himself from what happened today. Well, if he couldn't finish his book, he still had his violin. Even if it's in the dark, he could play it without music. Dylan groped around the ground for his violin case. It should be somewhere in the corner… ahah! Right where the lightning had lit it up! He unzipped the case and picked up his violin, feeling its smooth polish and fresh rosin aroma-
CRACK!
A shock of adrenaline made him yelp and let go as a spike of thunder roared. Another smaller, closer crack followed after. He frowned, wondering where that second crack came from until he realised that his hands were empty.
He knelt down, groping for his violin. What broke? Did its neck snap? Were the strings intact? God. Why was he such a klutz?
A knock came from the other side of the door.
"Mum?" He started. "I-it's fine. My… my violin just… broke."
"Dylan, it's me. Arthur." Arthur!
"Arthur?!" Dylan bolted up. "Did you leave something?"
"No, well, I've been thinking. About erhm, what you said." Arthur had heard that?! At the realisation, Dylan chewed his bottom lip and glanced towards the ground.
"Oh. You… did?" he rubbed the back of his neck. God, he could feel the tips of his ears heat up. He held back a smile. "Must've been weird to hear that." Dylan hooked his hand around his neck and looked down.
Regardless of what his reply was, the door creaked open. Arthur was holding a lit candle that lit the room in a dim golden glow. Dylan looked up- a worried expression was plastered across Arthur's face. At the sight, Dylan raised his eyebrows, curious and anxious at what Arthur had to say. At the sight of Arthur, he squinted. Was something missing?
"Arthur, where's your bandage?"
"Francis is getting another one since mine's all wet now." Arthur stepped forward. "Well, on the other hand, no, but- ACK!" Dylan snapped his head down and widened his eyes at the sound of wood skidding across the floorboard. "Dylan, holy f… Christ, is that your violin?"
"Well, it's definitely not a cello." Arthur raised his eyebrows and snorted.
"Pfff. No shit Sherlock. Erhm…" Arthur looked down at the ground where the violin laid. Thanks to the candle's light, he could tell that the body and the neck were still intact, well, at least from the back view. "Can I have a look?"
"Oh – yeah, sure." Dylan picked up the violin and turned it around. To his relief, only the violin's bridge was damaged- snapped into two, causing the strings to collapse. As long as the sound post inside was intact, his violin should be fine.
"Anyway, mum said you needed a candle, so can I put it on your bed stand?"
"I can do it myself, you can go rest up a bit, it's been a rough day. Here, um…" Dylan looked around. The candle had provided some light so he was able to locate the chair. "Here's a chair for you," he said as he pushed the chair towards Arthur. Arthur looked at the chair and raised an eyebrow.
"Ah. Erhm, thanks." Dylan placed the candle onto his bedstand, illuminating the room in a dim glow, and sat onto the bed.
"Is your violin alright?" Arthur asked as he looked at the violin.
"What? Oh, no it's fine. Only the bridge snapped."
"How much is it?"
"Uhh… only about £15? To be fair it could've been the entire violin - the violin itself's a couple grand."
"A couple grand?! All for a whittled piece of wood?!" Arthur leaned back and huffed, his face exasperated. "Christ."
"A masterfully crafted piece of wood, mind you!" Arthur snickered as Dylan put the violin back into its case. But very soon, Arthur's snickering died and slowly, turned into a sigh. Dylan looked back, curious as to why he did so.
"Dylan, about your talk…" Arthur took a deep breath in and rubbed the back of his neck. Dylan's heart hammered inside of his chest. Oh boy. "I'm really lonely, actually. London's big, so big it's lonely. It's not like here where everyone knew each other. I don't know a lot of people, certainly not as many as here, ironically. My book failed, I haven't published another book since. So... now I'm an accountant." Dylan knew how prideful his younger brother was. He looked down and rubbed the back of his neck.
"Oh! Is that the case?" Dylan let out a loose, relieved chuckle. "Arthur, you silly goose, why didn't you come back?"
"What-!" Arthur whipped his head up. "Hey! I was too scared!"
"Scared?" Dylan raised an eyebrow. Well, even the bravest of them get scared it seemed. "At least you're back now. As for the author part…" Dylan glanced to his bookshelf, where Arthur's book was. "Yeah, we sort of knew."
"What?"
"We bought your book a while back." Dylan hopped off of his bed and walked towards his bookshelf before picking out a book. "Tah-dah! It's Edgar Vinn!" He declared. Arthur's eyes were wide, so much so that Dylan could see all of the whites around his green pupils.
"You… you've had that?"
"Yup."
"These couple of years?"
"Yup." Arthur shrunk back into his seat.
"And… you've read it?" Dylan nodded.
"Uh-huh." Arthur's eyes were wide as saucers. His face wrinkled as if he had sucked a lemon dry. Dylan raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong?"
"Ah, no, it's just…" Arthur glanced away and shrunk into the chair. "Really… really edgy."
"Edgy?" Dylan stroked his chin as he examined the book. "Well… I guess it's nihilistic and sad in theme. But that doesn't make it a bad thing!" At that, Arthur twisted his lips.
"I… I guess? Anyway, I was such an edgy teen back when I wrote it, it's really weird looking back at it now."
"Really?" Dylan looked at the book. At the time when he read it, he had thought that it was intriguing and different. "Huh. Is that why you didn't write out your other projects?"
"Yeah… that, and I humbled a little after that."
"Oh." Dylan had never considered that Arthur had changed so much that he wouldn't write out his other ideas. Sure, he had considered the fact that he was too busy to write books somehow, but not that Arthur had just… stopped. "It's okay, I don't think there's anything wrong with that," Dylan quickly added.
"Thanks… I suppose," he murmured. "Oh, and speaking about like and don't like…" Arthur rubbed the back of his head and exhaled. "I want you to know that I don't hate you. To be fair, Angus was being, well, an ass, even though it was a little justified."
"Ah…" shifting on his bed, he rubbed the back of his head. "Thinking back… hah, I should've reworded that better…" at the mention of Angus, Dylan's smile went down. "Wait, what did Angus do?" Arthur furrowed his eyebrows at that question.
"What… Angus did?" Arthur leaned back and stroked his chin. "Erhm… he… he just confronted me what had happened here after I'm gone."
Angus was the bluntest out of all of them, so that made sense. "Oh. Is… that why you two fought? Because he confronted you?" For a split second, Dylan thought that he could see a bit of vulnerability in Arthur's eyes. Arthur cleared his throat and looked down.
"Yeah… but enough about me. What about you?"
"What about me?"
"Angus… he said that you've been closed off ever since I left. I noticed how you didn't answer certain questions when Francis and I were in the car."
"How… I didn't answer the questions?" Dylan raised an eyebrow. Alright, so maybe he didn't like to face certain situations and he'd rather evade them. He chewed his bottom lip, debating how to reply. "I… suppose I try to look on the bright side of things. To not get too carried away by the bad aspects of life, too, and to not dabble in anything you don't really know." Dylan huffed. "Of course… I try to be more responsible and now." It was something that happened after Arthur left - Boadicea was depressed and on the days when she was too tired to get out of bed, Dylan was there to try and do the housework, take care of Peter and Connor who were kids back then and paid the taxes to make up for his passive behaviour. "I don't exactly like the me in the past because I was so passive." Arthur raised his eyebrows.
"Ah. I… I can see why." Arthur huffed. "It's okay, Dylan, mum's better now, Peter's a little more grown so you can take a break from thinking you're too passive." Too passive?
"It's been so long though… of course, I can't be who I was in the past anymore."
"Oh." Arthur rubbed the back of his neck. "I get your point." There was a small pause. "Sure you can't be your old self again, but… thanks, anyway."
"Hm?"
"Maybe it's the active part in play, but… you were nice, even when I punched Angus and I nearly left again. Hell, you were supportive, even."
Dylan widened his eyes. Flustered, a breathy, nervous chuckle escaped out of him. "Ah, no no!" He added in between chuckles, trying to find an objection. But that comment was too nice! "Aww, shucks, Arthur, you leave me speechless! No no, thank you. I just said what I think needed to be said." Dylan opened his arms. "Hug to wrap it up?" He asked. Arthur scrunched up his eyebrows. Shrugging, he relaxed.
"Yeah, sure, go ahead," he encouraged as he opened his arms. A wide grin stretched across Dylan's face as he tackled Arthur into a hug.
Dylan couldn't help but laugh, finally content after their talk. He had changed, and so had Arthur. They couldn't be who they had been any more, but with the added good aspects, maybe that wasn't a bad thing at all.
The front door downstairs swung open and Dylan looked down. He stroked his chin. Who could it be at this hour… oh!
"I think Peter's back!"
So it was nighttime when Peter came back. One of Erik's dads, Tino, walked him back to his house once the rain died a little. Peter had expected Mum or Dylan to answer the door, maybe even the guest Francis, so it caught him completely by surprise when the person to answer the door was Arthur.
"Arthur? You're back!" Peter exclaimed. Arthur shrugged.
"Yup, in the flesh," he confirmed. Arthur crouched down to Peter's eye level. From Tino's torch, Peter could see a bit of purple bruising on his nose and on his cheek from the wedding. Despite that, Arthur tried to muster up a smile.
"Oh, hi there! You are…" Tino started. At the mention, Arthur stood up.
"I'm Arthur, Peter's older brother," he introduced himself. Tino smiled and shook his hand.
"Tino! I'm Peter's friend's dad," he introduced as he shook Arthur's hand. "Funny, I didn't know Peter had a third brother!" Peter grimaced. The Väinämöinen-Oxenstiernas were new neighbours who moved to the neighbourhood last year, so they didn't know Arthur that well. Was Arthur fine with that?
"Ahahah, yes… erhm, it's a long story."
After Tino bid goodbye, Arthur closed the door. However, the wind outside extinguished the candle, leaving the hallway in the dark. From the low lighting, Peter could see Arthur frowning a little.
"Ah shit, the candle's blown-" Arthur widened his eyes and clamped his mouth. Peter scrunched up his eyebrows at the action until he realised why.
"Arthur!" He let out a small laugh. "I'm nearly 13, swearing isn't that bad!" He could recall some kids in his grade who would swear like sailors during lunch, trying to sound all tough and grownup. Arthur blinked.
"... Oh! Right, you're 13 now." He looked to the side. "Christ was that fast." Rubbing the back of his head, he huffed. "Listen, Peter, erhm I'm sorry we didn't have much time together and all. You know, when you were younger." Arthur was concerned about that?
"Hmm, yeah, me too. But it's ok! I was only 5 or 6 or something, I can't remember much."
"Only 5 or 6…? Ah. Right." Arthur looked so dejected, poor guy.
"I can show you what I've been doing over the last couple of years!" Peter piped up. Arthur looked down, his eyes wide glimmering, even. From someone he had remembered as being bad tempered, that was quite the surprise.
"Oh. Sure, what have you been doing by the way? Erhm, got into any new hobbies?"
"Oh yeah!" Peter nodded. "I've been doing coding and making robots!" Arthur raised an eyebrow.
"Really now?"
"Uh-huh! Hah, that means I can make computer viruses now!" He was joking, but still, he wanted to see what would happen. Arthur faked a bit of an exasperated look, of course.
"Viruses?! Christ, just don't hack into my novel files. Sounds fun, though." He chuckled a little.
"Arthur!" Peter tutted as he crossed his arms. "Are you encouraging plagiarism, hm?" Arthur raised his eyebrows.
"Oi, I'm a writer, not a lawyer, alright?" he replied, a small grin on his face. "Anyway, maybe enough about coding today, how about your robot making hobby?"
"Well… oh! I won a robots competition!" Peter lead Arthur to the wall of pictures, picked up a candle and showed him a picture from the mentioned competition last year. "Check it out! One time we had to build something out of some legos. I built a little functioning robot out of em." Peter beamed as Arthur looked at the picture. To his surprise, Arthur smirked.
"Heh, I was wondering if all those Transformers cartoons were catching up."
"Hey!"
"Remember how you used to wake up at 3 am in the morning to binge watch Transformers cartoons?" The hairs at the back of Peter's neck spiked up. Arthur remembered that?!
"Oi, I did not!"
"You did! You even said that you slept for 6 hours so it was ok!" Arthur insisted, a cheeky tone in his voice. Peter huffed and crossed his arms.
"Well, I definitely don't do that anymore…" Peter glanced to the side, wanting to do a good comeback. When at last, he's got one! "Say… Arthur, do you still do dramatic reenactments of scenes from your stories?" Now it was Arthur's turn for his neck hairs to spike up as Arthur's lips thinned and his eyes widened. Peter smirked. "Ahah! I knew it!"
"Oi!"
For the rest of the evening, they caught up on the last few years. After that was finished, it was time for Peter to go to sleep, so after one final chat, he went upstairs and got ready for bed.
It was nice to know how Arthur had been doing over the last couple of years. Great that it wouldn't have to be the last time, he thought as he blew out the candle.
By the time he had finished, Arthur was exhausted. He collapsed onto the living room couch, all spent up.
"How was it?" Mum asked from the dinner table. Arthur rubbed his face.
"Tiring." He rubbed his face harder, but as he rubbed against his nose too much, a pang of pain shot up and he jolted. Bloody hell, right, his nose was still broken.
"Arthur!" Francis called out as he rushed down the stairs. "I've finally found the bandage!" At his voice, Arthur shot up. Turning around, Francis held a packet for the cotton bandage, a content, satisfied grin on his face. Arthur smiled.
"Right on cue! Took you long enough!" Francis shook the bandage's packet.
"Last one. Was hiding under the first aid kit the whole time." Carefully peeling the wax paper away, Francis put the thick cotton bandage over Arthur's nose, his eyes squinting as he put it back on.
"Is this alright? Does it hurt?" He asked, pressing it onto Arthur's nose. Arthur winced at a pained, pulsing sensation at the touch.
"No, I think it's just enough." Francis nodded, licking his front teeth as he flattened the bandage.
"And… done!" Francis leaned onto the couch, a small smile on his face, though it was replaced by a frown.
"Francis, you alright?"
"Argh, it's so cold! Arthur, how are you not freezing?" Actually, now that Francis brought it up, Arthur realised how cold it was. He shivered. Screw the cold.
"Well, I am now." Francis stood up and looked around.
"Here." He pulled out a folded blanket on the couch. "Wouldn't fancy you getting hypothermia." Arthur looked at the blanket and up again, a small smile stretching across his lips.
"Heh, thanks." Arthur unfolded the blanket and slipped beneath. The blanket was still quite cold, but with enough time it would warm up.
"Brr." Francis rubbed his arms. "Mind if I slip under too? Just on one end." Arthur raised his eyebrows.
"Erhm… sure, I suppose."
Francis slipped beneath the blanket, him taking one end, Arthur taking the other. They waited for a while until the blanket properly gets warm, which would sadly take a while.
"It's quite brave that you came back. I never would've had the balls to," Francis brought up.
"Hm? Oh, believe me, I was absolutely shaking all the way. I just did what I needed to do." More of the rain's sounds filled the silence in between. Arthur looked down, wanting to say something more. "By the way… I know that this sounds weird as hell, but… thanks for convincing me to come back here, I… I suppose. Without you, I… I don't think I would've found the courage to."
Francis looked up. The candlelight in the hallway reflected golden flecks of gold inside his sky blue eyes and highlighted the smooth curves of his face, reminding Arthur of those Baroque art pieces. He smiled, and Arthur's breath hitched. "You're welcome. But again… I just did what I needed to do, too," he teased. Arthur raised his eyebrows and his cheeks heated up.
"Hahah. Yeah…" Feeling drowsy, Arthur found himself closing his eyes. There was a warmer area under the blanket. Unconsciously, he found himself shift towards that direction.
Arthur's hand twitched when he accidentally touched Francis'. Normally he would've slid it away, but as he was too sleepy to care, he let it stay where it was.
The rain outside was still pelting, but they had each other, insulated under the warm blanket. They unconsciously shifted to more comfortable angles, warmer areas, and with their eyes closed, enjoyed their surroundings. The smell of tea towels, the coolness around their uncovered face, the sound of the rain outside...
They were both so sleepy, and it was so warm underneath the blanket. It was only when Arthur decided to stand up and go to bed for the evening when he realised something was off.
At the realisation, a shock of adrenaline snapped him out of sleep.
His legs were tangled around Francis', their heads were touching, so close that Arthur could smell his strong rose and vanilla scented shampoo, and Francis' face was only mere millimetres away, so much so that Arthur could see his long, feathery eyelashes right next to him.
Oh GOD.
"I NEED TO GO!" Arthur quickly blurted out as he yanked himself away from the warmth. Francis jolted up and blinked at the loud declaration.
"What? Arthur, what the…" He squinted and looked around as if he had just woken up. Great, now he had to explain what had happened, all while his heart thumped inside his ribs and his blood whizzed around his veins this fast. Fuck, think fast, Arthur.
"I mean uh, erhm… I…" He desperately needed to have a breather because Christ things were getting out of hand. No no, ignore that dizzy sensation, he told himself, make up another excuse. "I… thought of something good for my novel. A sort of Eureka moment."
"An Eureka moment for your book? Sounds great!" Arthur nodded, too busy opening and digging around his suitcase for his laptop.
"Yeah. Very, um, great."
Francis nodded before he yawned. "So… you need to be alone to write, right?" Arthur nodded vigorously. "Oh." For a split second, Arthur thought that Francis sounded disappointed. "Alright, I'm going upstairs to get some sleep, since soon I'll have to say good morning."
Arthur mustered up a smile at that joke. "Sure. Goodnight." Francis waved back as he went up the stairs.
"Goodnight. Good luck writing, Mr. Author," he finished, a playful grin on his face, and then he was off.
Arthur waited until Francis was upstairs. As soon as Francis was gone, Arthur mentally slapped himself as that warm fuzzy feeling arose in his chest again. What the hell was that?! Just… cuddling like that. How did that happen? It was cold and there was a blanket so they both snuck under it. They unconsciously got closer and something weird happened. Fuelled by the memory of the warmth, the touches, the smells… he flushed, causing the room around him to cool down.
Was he… was he even ready for this sort of thing- he mentally slapped himself harder. No no, don't think about that, focus the novel, Arthur told himself. Write some more like he had said so he can get his mind off of this. At least Francis was half asleep, so he couldn't recall anything, all he needed to do now was to forget all of this ever happened. He turned on the laptop, squinting a little and turning the brightness down. Dylan mentioned that violins are expensive as hell, so maybe he could incorporate that somewhere. Starting from that idea, he opened the Word document and set off to work.
Once he was content with the pages he had written, Arthur yawned and shut his laptop. What time was it? Arthur had lost track, but it was definitely some time past midnight. Either way, that writing session was enough to put his mind off of… that.
Arthur stood up, but stopped when he passed by the living room. Boadicea was asleep on the dining table, the candle in front of her melted into a stump. Arthur realised that all this time Boadicea had been ready to keep him company in case he needed it. As her back rose up and down, Arthur could only help but smile.
She was a heavy sleeper, too, so Arthur wasn't worried when he picked her up. Brushing her auburn fringe away, he planted a small kiss onto her forehead.
Arthur carried his mother upstairs and placed her onto her bed. Realising that he forgot to take off the covers, he decided to fold the duvet over her. Might provide better insulation.
"Night, mum," he whispered as he closed the door.
Thanks to GokuSuperSaiyanTime for editing this chapter!