Chapter 5: A Gentleman's Return and Subsequent Decline Part 2

The breeze blew a cool dewy air down the quiet street. The chill of early morning air filled each breeze more and more. The sky was a deep purple signaling the soon-to-rise sun. Arthur stumbled along the sidewalk. He walked in a cross pose putting one foot in front of the other in a mock dance as he hummed a tune only existing in his head.

He stumbled on a corner and paused to make sure he was heading the right way. He needed to be home soon so he had time to get to bed before his early rising parents got up. The walk shouldn't be taking as long as it was, but Arthur was not used to walking distances while drunk.

Once, his family let everyone have champagne and wine for New Year's and Arthur had gotten tipsy. The world would shift when he turned his head, but this was a different kind of drunkenness. In the past, he sat quietly reflecting on himself. Now, he spoke much more about far too personal things than he would ever do. Halfway home he sat on a curb and cried for no reason at all.

Well, not for no reason, but for complicated ones. He was thinking about how he actually had fun and how he liked the people he met. An unnerving feeling rose from his stomach to his throat as the weight of everything sunk in. How could he enjoy something so horrible? His emotions were split down the middle and the pressure of it all drove him to tears. Just thinking about how he wasted time on that curb made a lump form in his throat.

Instead of focusing on the implication of what he had done and the promises he made, he focused on the lovely floating feeling the alcohol gave him and on his task of getting the fuck home. He went back to humming the tune Vlad plucked on his guitar while talking to Arthur.

Vlad was nice, a little rough around the edges, but Arthur expected no less from a punk, Romanian immigrant. Aspects of their conversation blend together in Arthur's contaminated mind, but it did not matter. A number was scrawled in marker up Arthur's arm. He'd call Vlad later about meeting up. If he got the courage, Arthur would bring his poems as per the deal. Helping with a band could be fun. Actually doing something with something he writes would be even better.

Arthur secretly liked when Francis read through his notebooks because it meant that somebody other than Arthur was reading and appreciating them. Appreciating was the key. When Scott read the notebook, he did not appreciate, he dissected. Arthur grumbled about Scott as he stumbled onto his street. The poems deserved recognition. The picture of someone like him sitting on the floor with their brother listening to his own words filled him. Something like that wouldn't happen, but the feeling was almost as nice as the feeling of alcohol in his system.

The more he drank, the more his nerves dissolved. With a drink in his hand, he could ignore the voices of his family in his head. He could enjoy the moment and himself fully. The dam that held all his emotions at bay was open and flowing. Who knows what would have happened if he didn't at least have a pleasant, comforting buzz in his system when he hung out with Vald and Felix. He definitely needed it to see past Felix's skirt and Vlad's attire which the mom voice in his head called satanic.

He let his thoughts wonder as he reached the back garden. The bush he fell in still looked fucked up, but not as bad as he initially felt when leaving. Running hands through his hair, he eyed the roof. One hand reached towards the edge, and he squinted at the distance. The door looked much more promising at this point. He rubbed at his eye as he stood in front of the door thinking. A black smudge appeared on the side of his hand. It had been a crazy night. Turning away from the door he thought, "Still is a crazy night."

The tree was not the most promising option, but sometimes the original plan is the best one. Stepping quietly, he reached the trunk. He just needed to propel himself up a little so he could grab the low hanging, thick branch and get to the roof to hall himself up. Easy. Hopefully, easier than coming down.

It took three jumping starts before he was able to reach the branch and scramble to a sitting position on it. Climbing trees was fun, maybe he should try it sober when the tree was more visually steady. Slowly, he scooted along the branch until he was as close to the roof as he was willing to risk. With a steady breath to prepare, he leaped until the roof. A bang echoed as his body hit the shingles.

Fuck.

Now, he really needed to move fast in case that woke anyone up. For some reason his drunken mind concluded that sliding on his stomach to his window was the best option to avoid falling. He wiggled back and forth dramatically as he made his way to his still-open window. Once there, he stood and stepped inside.

Returning to his room and closing the window was a sobering experiencing. Everything was left as it was before. The house was silent, only the generic sounds of building settling filled the air. Arthur labored breathing filled his ears as he peered around - book still on the bed and another on the dresser. He rubbed his face, exhaustion finally hitting him after all this time.

He needed to brush his teeth and wash the sweat off his face. He quickly took of his shoes and padded softly to the door. He pressed his ear to the cold surface and held his breath. No sound came through. Either everyone was still sound asleep or his door was incredibly thick - a risk worth taking. He pushed the door open wincing at a squeak.

Tip toeing dramatically, he made it to the bathroom without incident and locked the door behind him allowing for much needed privacy. The light made him wince. Once his eyes adjusted to it, he surveyed himself in the mirror.

He looked like a mess, and not even a hot one.

His hair was sticking out all over, mostly from when he yanked it while sitting on the curb. The sweat just helped it stay standing. He rubbed his hand over his chest. There wasn't a distinct memory of unbuttoning his shirt all the way, but he knew that it happened slowly at first and then just came undone. He ran a hand over his face and peered at his eyes. Apparently, he wasn't the best drunk.

His green eyes pierced his own skin, the color popping more due to dark eyeliner coating his lids. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a stick of liner that Felix gave to him.

Felix and Vlad joked about how much he stood out from his clothes to everything else about his look and stance. He had drunkenly demanded they make him fit in. The memory of him grabbing Vlad by the shirt and begging, "Fix me," filled his mind. God, he can't believe the guy still wanted to hang out. Must be believing the tortured artist shit.

Felix was more than happy to coat Arthur's eyes after a short discussion on what kind of "look" he was going for. He gave the liner to Arthur to keep with one demand.

"Meet us here tomorrow, and we'll go to a place I choose. Just promise you'll wear something more appropriate."

Arthur agreed drunk on the feeling of belonging as well as the alcohol.

He looked at himself in the mirror again. He actually did like the look. Separating himself from his family in this way was oddly nice. They caused him so much stress, becoming something else and embracing a different side of him was the best de-stress activity. What he didn't like were the dark smears of make-up on his cheeks.

If only the make-up Felix gave him was waterproof. The once fun, punk look took on a sad feeling. Arthur had to face his own mistakes and regrets when looking at the smeared eyeliner across his face. How could he let it all happen? It was wrong.

He bit his lip hard, trying to stop his eyes from tearing up. A tremble ran through his arm.

"Fuck," he whispered the word, voice cracking.

He leaned down to wash his face clean, scrubbing harshly at his eyes. Once done, he peered in the mirror again, not sure what he was hoping to see, but definitely hoping for something that he was not seeing. His face was full of red splotches; his eyes were glassey. His jaw clenched in frustration. If it wouldn't break, he would have punched the mirror.

He leaned forward forcing himself to look away from his reflection. While rocking on his toes attempting to calm himself his eyes caught the number written on his arm. He glanced up at his face again. The number could be washed off in the morning. For now, he needed to get rest.

He padded back to his room and fell onto the bed passing out immediately.

Arthur slept unaware as the house began to awaken and fill with noise. He slept through his brothers going and up and down the stairs. He slept through his family discussing Arthur's absence downstairs. He slept through his mom knocking on the door and cracking it open.

She whispered, "Arthur? Arthur?"

Arthur grunted in response his brain slowly turning on.

"Sweetie, are you feeling okay?"

Arthur groaned, "Yeah, yeah, just trouble sleeping. I'm getting up."

"Okay, just making sure you weren't feeling sick."

A thumbs up rose from Arthur's bed. His mom chuckled and closed the door behind her. Arthur continued to lay in bed adjusting to the morning. He listened to the sounds of a lively house as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Catching a whiff of himself he winced, he definitely needed a shower before someone realized he was not in bed all night.

He grabbed some casual clothes and leaned against the door, hearing someone on the stairs. The footsteps sounded like they were going down, but he wasn't sure, so he counted to ten before opening the door and walking to the bathroom. On the way, he watched the stairs. Due to guessing the wrong place to put his attention, he ran into somebody.

"Woah, Arthur. Awake at last, I see," Walt said cheerfully.

"Yep, and showering, so if you don't mind." Arthur tried to swerve around Walt quickly.

Arthur was jolted to a stop when Walt grabbed his arm. Concern morphed Walt's face. "Are you okay? You've been acting weird since you got back."

"I'm fine."

"Well, can we talk?" Arthur searched Walt's face. Had Scott informed him of what he told Arthur? Did Scott somehow know about last night?

While Arthur was trying to come up with a response, Walt turned his arm to look at the marker on it. Arthur's eyes widened, and he forcibly pulled his arm back.

"Yeah, later, I got to... bathroom," he lied quickly pointing to the bathroom before dashing inside. He considered making a fake fart noise to sound like he was using the toilet in an emergency. Luckily, he realized how idiotic that would be and turned on the shower. Unluckily, he was unaware of the sigh Walt gave towards the door.

He turned the water so hot until it was scorching. How was he such an idiot all the time? Wasn't he supposed to be some sort of academic? He scrubbed the number off his arm until it went raw and turned bright red. Hopefully, Walt could forget about it, or Arthur could get away with avoiding Walt a little bit longer. Anything to put off whatever awkward conversation was bound to happen.

Oddly enough, Arthur found it easy to avoid Walt. He weaved around the house during the day keeping busy, something easy when most of the early parts of the day were spent sleeping. In the late afternoon, he sat at his desk looking through one of his notebooks, tapping a pen against his chin. Some of the day had been spent writing, and now, he was reviewing all his recent work.

After everything that had happened over the last few weeks, he looked at them with a new pair of eyes. There was no surprise as to Scott's concern after just reading some pages. They did come off very teenage angst and weren't the best poems, but Arthur could visualize how some of them could become songs like the ones him and Walt used to listen to together.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed to stop thinking like that. Yesterday was a lapse of judgement - fun but a one time thing. He needed to focus on what was important, stop giving into temptation, and… and what? Deep down he wanted to ask Walt how he dealt with it, but it sounded like he just got over it and Arthur was not about to open himself up for the disaster that would happen if his family decided to lecture him.

He could image them asking him why over and over, begging him to change, and him having no answer at all. It wasn't worth opening up himself to questioning when he couldn't even sort himself out privately. He flipped to the back of the notebook where he wrote Vlad's number. Maybe he could still do music without having to go out again.

The problem was that the night before was fun, more fun than Arthur had had in a long time. For once, he wasn't pretending to enjoy himself like when he spend the week out of the country with his dad and Scott. That's not to say that he was stressed and on edge surrounded by people like Felix, but it was still better than his other options. Maybe he could just use going out as something to do if he really needed it and as a way to get away from his family when they were getting too much.

"Hey, nerd," Scott greeted from the doorway.

Arthur started and closed him notebook. "Hey."

Scott smirked. "Working on anything cool?" Recently, he had been butting in more often and asking more questions. Arthur was starting to think that Scott really felt like they bonded on the trip and were close. He may have been suspicious of something, but Arthur shoved that thought to the back of his mind.

Arthur lied, "I was looking at working on that fantasy story you said sounded cool. I hadn't touched it in so long, and you reminded me of it the other day."

Scott nodded. "Actually something interesting. Unexpected."

"Oh, fuck you."

Scott raised his brows in surprise at the language, genuinely shocked. "Well, sorry to interrupt, but can you help set the table? We're eating soon."

Arthur glanced at the clock. It was much later than he thought. "Isn't it your turn to set the table?"

Scott smiled and waved his hands. "Older brother privilege." He turned to walk away as Arthur called out, "That's not fair!"

"Someone's got to do it," Scott's voice carried down the hall.

Arthur grumbled as his put away his notebook in the second drawer of his desk and went downstairs.

When Arthur was really young, he enjoyed family dinners. It wasn't something everyone did, and made his family feel special. Despite how busy his family was and how much attention his successful brothers required, there was always time for Arthur. There was time to listen to him, to talk to him, and to teach him.

When Arthur got older, he realized he didn't much like being taught. Teaching felt more like lectures, lectures that made Arthur feel like shit. The older you get, the more you notice until you realize that everyone is full of the same amount of shit as you are.

The best thing about childhood is maintaining the ability to believe the things the people important in your life say. More often than not, Arthur feels like he was tricked into eating the forbidden fruit that opened his eyes. Awareness made family dinners different. Sometimes they were hard and sometimes it felt like he was part of any normal family. Setting the table felt like the beginning of a normal family moment, but dinners are long and leave room for a lot of topics.

Arthur consumed large amounts of his dinner faster than a gentleman should, finally having an appetite after a while without one. He zoned in and out of the mundane conversations settling on one where his dad was talking about work, the most boring of topics… except when it's office gossip.

"Do you remember Jyri Väinämöinen? Him and his wife came to that Christmas party?" Mr. Kirkland bought up casually.

Scott butted in, "They had a son in one of my classes I think."

Walt added, "Tino?"

Arthur perked up at the name.

Mrs. Kirkland smiled, "Yes. Jyri was always nice. Great people."

"Well, I don't know about that," Mr. Kirkland hinted.

Scott elbowed Walt and snorted, "I mean with a son like that."

Mrs. Kirkland sounded, "Oh?"

Walt chuckled at the face Scott was making.

Arthur stiffened. He wanted to get his muscles to relax but couldn't. His body said run, but his mind said, "if you stay perfectly still, they won't notice you." How could this be happening? He lived in a city for God's sake. The world had to hate him, because it could not possibly be this small.

Mr. Kirkland tried to explain in the most proper way possible, a gentleman even when gossiping. "They've been having lots of trouble with their son. It's been going on for a while."

"That's a shame. Is he ill?"

Scott snorted, "Might as well be."

Walt smacked him. "He was always a little, um, flamboyant isn't the right word. Timid?" He directed the question at Scott.

"He's a fucking puff."

"Language, Scott," Mr. Kirkland barked.

Scott raised his hands in surrender with the complete absence of any regret.

Mrs. Kirkland turned towards her husband. "Is he? They always seemed like such a nice couple and good parents."

Mr. Kirkland nodded solemnly, "They weren't as good at quelling those little rebellions it seems." He glanced at Walt briefly.

Arthur sat frozen, his fork positioned as if he were to pick up food. he kept stealing glances at Walt to observe all his reactions. The urge to throw something was growing. Walt seemed fine with the conversation. He didn't say much, but would make quips with Scott about Tino and nod along to his mom's reactions.

Arthur was looking to Walt to be an ally. He wanted a sympathetic glance or to see some crack that proved to him that his brother did not even vaguely agree with any of the things being said. Arthur stared at this brother, the one person who might not agree to prove that he wasn't completely alone in this moment. How could this be happening? After the story Scott told, how could there not be sympathy in his eyes?

He tried to eat so he wouldn't have to participate. It would be best for him if he could completely turn out the words, but his brain made him hyper-aware to the clues of how his family would treat him if they knew.

"They are just letting him live like that now," Mr. Kirkland disapproved.

"I don't understand how they could do that," Mrs. Kirkland said simultaneously as Arthur quipped, "Really?"

The moment the word left his mouth, he winced, hoping his mom's comment would cover it up. The sets of eyes on him proved his hopes mute.

"Crazy that they'd just live with that right?" Scott asked Arthur.

Arthur swallowed. His dad spoke up before Arthur was forced to think of a response. "I sure wouldn't let someone like that live under my roof. Apparently, they kicked him out before, but gave in after awhile and decided to let him do those things under their own roof."

"I'm sure Tino isn't doing it at home," joked.

"Walter!" Mrs. Kirkland admonished.

"Just saying."

"Jyri is so okay with it, he even had the gall to mention Tino's… partner."

The name Berwald flashed across Arthur's mind. He mouthed the word thinking about everything he knows.

"So maybe he is doing it at home," Scott laughed.

Mrs. Kirkland huffed at her sons' inability to behave. "Well, I'm just glad we don't have to deal with that and have a normal family. I just don't think I could live with it."

"Not everyone can be as blessed as the Kirklands," Mr. Kirkland declared.

Walt took a long drink of water. As he pulled away he commented, "Very true."

Arthur wasn't sure if he heard bitterness in the tone, or if it was just him projecting.

Despite the rush of feelings inside, he sat through dinner. He ate at a normal pace, playing the gentleman, trying his best to contain his though; trying his best not to be obvious that he was dwelling on the conversation.

It was the longest dinner of his life, and the fire under his skin burned long into the evening.

A/N: Sorry this took so long. I had skipped a scene when I first wrote it and had to backtrack. Plus, I'm moving. Thanks for sticking with me on Arthur's journey.

I have also reached a roadblock I could use some help with. I've put off including Arthur poems, but I've reached the point where I need to include them. I haven't written a poem since I was a kid. Does anyone have some advice, tips, writing exercises, idea, etc that could help? I don't know anyone irl who's interested in this stuff or willing to read, so I'm reaching out here. (I also have a tumblr with the same username you can DM me at too)

Next update in a couple of week. We are getting into some of my fav moments I've written for this so far. :)