Chapter 6: Forging New Paths at Ungentlemanly Crossroads

Arthur paced his room an unknown energy surging through him. His parents were ridiculous, Scott was ridiculous, and, hell, even Walt was. He couldn't keep living like this just sitting by and absorbing everything his parents said. The fact that they were right didn't matter. If they spent more time with him or approached raising him differently, he wouldn't have all these problems. Everything was somehow a fault of theirs, and how dare they pass judgement.

Listening to them drag on silently was painful. He needed some sort of release. For once, just scribbling in his notebooks was not enough. He needed more of something, to do something to make him feel real and okay. Arthur stood in the middle of the room bouncing on the balls of his feet and pulled at his hair. He'd punch a wall if he was willing to draw attention to himself.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly in an attempt to calm himself. Moving to the bed, he bit his thumb in thought. He eyed the window meaningfully. A night out could help. This time he'd bring his wallet with some cash, buy a lot of drinks, maybe convince some of the people waiting for him to buy him some considering his bad day. They were sympathetic the day before. It was better he went anyways. He didn't want to cut ties with these people, and they were going to be waiting for him.

Nodding to himself, he stood and went to his closet. Felix told him to dress more appropriately and tonight he would be prepared. Inside, he located a winter coat in the corner and dug through the pocket before pulling out the eyeliner Felix gave to him. When in Rome.

It didn't take him long to dress as if the outfit was always in the back of his mind waiting for the day he had enough confidence to wear it. The eyeliner was another thing. He tapped it quickly in his hand in thought. To put it on blindly or risk the bathroom: that was the question.

It was dark out, but wasn't too late yet. People would be settling down still. He put an ear to the door and slowly opened it so that he could peak out. Light shown under both his brothers' doors, but no one was moving about. Arthur dashed down the hall and into the bathroom locking the door behind him.

He took a moment to take stalk of his reflection. He could use a lot of work. To try to fix his hair, he ran his hands through it over and over in an attempt to get it to stick up in a semi-intentional way. After a few minutes, it was the best it could be. Then he uncapped the eyeliner and made his best attempt. The outline was thick and messy, not nearly as good as when Felix did it, but he wasn't looking for perfection. He was looking to fit in better.

He flicked the light off the the bathroom and slowly open the door. Scott's light was now off, but Walt's was still on. He dashed back into his room and closed the door with a soft click. Once he had his shoes on and pocketed his wallet, he opened his window. A humid breeze blew at his face. Another sweaty summer night was ahead of him.

There was something about moving when full of spite. Arthur's knees did not buckle at the height of the roof. He did not fall or bang anything when grabbing the tree to make his way far enough down to jump off. The landing was soft and graceful. He turned around and stared at the house. For some reason, it felt like he was making an important decision this time, going down the left path of crossroads instead of the right.

The cracked window on the second floor peered at him like the eye of a cyclops judging him from above. Arthur nodded making a decision. To best demonstrate it, he rose a middle finger at his home where his family resided. "Fuck you guys," he muttered before turning and heading towards the bar from yesterday with record speed.

Once he got inside, he immediately got a drink, downed it, and grabbed another. If he was going to handle being out, he'd need to be at least buzzed. The frustration burning under his skin was turning to unease. As much as he enjoyed being out last night, being there still made his skin crawl with discomfort. The alcohol helped. A night to give into the unpleasant aspects of himself and to spite his family was all he needed. A few hours to get it out of his system so that he could handle being around them again.

What Arthur did not consider was when he should be meeting with Felix and company. They never discussed a time, and he was not used to being out. There was no reason for him to know the proper time, so he ended up being alone for a while, drinking and chatting with a few people around. At one point someone offered him a cigarette to "calm his nerves" because apparently he looked as nervous as he felt. The smoke break didn't help as much as he'd like but the drink did.

After a time that was not as long in reality as it felt for Arthur, his new friends arrived. Arthur let himself be hugged in greeting and even lightly returned the touches. Greeting with a hug was not a gentleman thing and not something Arthur was used to except with the women of his family.

Torris eyed Arthur thoughtfully. "Are you okay?"

Arthur considered a lie. He was doing better, but if he was about to be a downer, he should at least warn somebody while he was sober enough. "Had some family problems today."

Felix and Torris looked at him sympathetically. As much as he should have appreciated their feelings, it mostly filled him with disgust. No one really got it. His problems weren't real like other people's. They were just an outcome of his will being weak, his head being out of place, or something along those lines. After that thought passed his mind, he briefly remembered dinner and that his family might actually be the reason for all his problems.

Felix tried to lighten the mood. "Well, you are in for a cheering up treat, because I picked the place tonight!"

Arthur eyed the bar. "I kind of like this one."

"Boo, no," Felix protested in a teasing tone, "You just say that because you haven't been anywhere else."

"It might be Felix's favorite, but it isn't as crazy as you might think considering." Torris shrugged.

Felix guffawed. "And what is that supposed to mean."

Arthur found himself laughing at their friendly bickering. He downed his drink and tried to hide his slurring. "Yeah. Let's do this! Felix's place."

Felix wooed before leading them outside.

Torris laughed, "I think you might need to be cut off, Art."

Arthur snorted. "I," He exaggeratedly raised a finger and then waved it dramatically as he finished, "had a bad day."

Felix twirled and grabbed Arthur's arm. "Yeah, he had a bad day. Besides, maybe now we can get Arthur to dance and flirt with boys."

Arthur shook his head.

"Okay, fine, no dancing."

"You are… fuck what's the word…"

Torris smiled and began to supply options, "Crazy? Insane? Easily excitable?"

"I mean, yes, but -"

Felix cut in with pursed lips. "How about cute? Adorable? Fun?"

"Sure, but I'm thinking meddling. You're meddling or something," Arthur concluded too drunk to immediately realize he openly admitted another guy was cute.

Felix let go of him, so that he had both hands free to dramatically respond, "Me? No."

"We are meeting up with a friend," Torris admitted.

"Torris!"

"We will make it there before you even say it at this rate."

"You are a fun sucker."

Torris raised an eyebrow. "Oh my God, stop," Felix whined.

Felix hooked his arm back around Arthur and explained, "A friend of ours also has been having a bad time, so we are meeting up with him for a night of dancing."

Arthur walked a few paces in thought. If this friend also had a bad day, maybe they'd be someone Arthur could relate to considering.

"And you don't have to worry about talking because with him and Felix there won't be any more room," Torris quipped with a grin.

"Ha. Ha. The point is: he is cute, and I think you would get along. Catch my drift?"

"You are introducing me to a sad friend?"

Felix groaned and Torris laughed. "I can't believe I surround myself with boys this dense. I'm saying you might be interested in him. He likes books and stuff like you talked about yesterday, and I just get this feeling that he is your type."

Arthur had no initial memory of talking about books the night before, but after it being mentioned, was getting vague notions of some conversations. A dark pit formed in his stomach at the idea of someone deciding his type and realizing what it might be. The pit didn't hurt the way it usually did, alcohol giving him some much needed internal numbness.

"How would you know what my type is?"

Torris responded, "He's just good at it. It's like some secret talent."

Felix beamed. "Thank you."

They walked half a block in silence before Felix began a mundane conversation. Arthur was thankful for it. All of his focus was spent navigating the tilting world straightly, and he didn't think he had enough uncontaminated brainpower for a real conversation at this point. Plus, Felix had to feel his sway awkwardly and bump into him every so often.

It didn't take long for the trio to reach their destination.

"A disco?" Arthur sputtered.

"You can't seriously have been expecting anything else at this point." Felix claimed.

Arthur nodded. Felix wasn't wrong.

Inside was almost overwhelming. People overflowed the space mingling near the entrance and dancing further in. The music was loud. The beat moved under Arthur's skin and felt as if his heart was pumping blood to the rhythm. He could understand how people would like this kind of place.

Torris leaned against his ear to talk over the sound of people and music. "There's a corner that is usually not crowded where we are going to meet."

Arthur nodded in acknowledgement and followed his two friends. Felix led the way, weaving in and out of people gracefully opening the crowds for Torris and Arthur to follow. The deeper they went, the denser the crowd. Soon, all Arthur was seeing was the flick of Felix's skirt as he weaved. How could there be an open area with this many people?

Arthur tried to keep his eyes on Torris, because seeing Felix was near impossible. Occasionally, he'd grab Torris's shoulder so he could be led along. At one point he felt as if someone grabbed his ass, but chose to ignore it. He was drunk, with friends, and there was supposedly an open area ahead.

Torris took a quick right turn where the room opened up more allowing for the crowd to disperse naturally. As they walked the last few feet towards the corner the crowd dissipated and Arthur watched as Felix hugged the unnamed friend.

The two parted, still holding each others shoulders to talk. Arthur's heart dropped. Torris gave the friend a one sided hug in greeting. The boy messed with Torris's shaggy hair. Arthur still felt frozen. He should run, but his brain wouldn't communicate with any of his extremities.

Felix whispered in the boy's ear and pointed to Arthur. The boy looked and froze in surprise.

Felix introduced, "Francis this is Arthur, and Arthur this is Francis."

Arthur felt his hand lift and make a minute wave. Francis's shock turned into a huge grin.

"Arthur!" Francis went to hug him. Arthur didn't respond. He felt unable to look at his kind-of-friend. They hadn't talked since their fight, and the only person Arthur would want to see less out here was his dad.

Arthur muttered, "Hey, Francis."

"Look at you." Francis eyed Arthur up and down, taking in the unexpected appearance. Arthur continued to look down. He couldn't face Francis. His only response was to shift on his feet.

Much calmer Francis said, "Hey, come on, Arthur. Look at me."

Arthur swallowed and raised his eyes to look at Francis. As per usual, Francis looked great, even more so than normal because he was dressed how he wanted for going out. For some reason, seeing Francis like that always caused a red hot anger to swell in his chest. Francis didn't acknowledge Arthur's behavior other than to smile.

They stood in front of each other with Torris and Felix watching in confusion. After a moment, Francis spoke. "You look good, Arthur."

Arthur ran a hand through the hair he spent so much time working on. "Whatever. Are you going to pass any more judgement?"

"Pass judgement?"

"Like you always do," Arthur spat.

"Still haven't grown up from the other day it seems." Francis didn't speak with any malice. He stated it like a sad fact the way a teacher admits they are disappointed instead of mad. Felix gave Francis a look as if he was figuring something out. He turned to Torris as if he could mentally communicate it with him.

"I should have never come."

"That's not true, and you know it."

Arthur kept shifting. He knew he was reacting badly to everything, but was too pissed to consider it. "You don't know shit, Francis. You don't know anything about me."

Francis's face broke just like during the fight in their room. Arthur couldn't bare to look at it. He turned towards his other two friends who looked both surprised and curious.

"I… Sorry for ruining you night." With that, Arthur turned and faded into the crowd. He wanted to storm out, to run, but could only move so fast to get to the entrance. Once outside, the humid air hit his face, but he kept going. He ran down a few blocks until he got tired.

His breath was ragged and cheeks wet with tears he didn't realize were flowing steadily.

"Fuck," he screamed. Turning towards the nearest building, he kicked at the bricked wall forcefully.

He punched at the wall.

"Fuck."

Punched twice more alternating hands.

"Fuck."

He kept punching until he was out of breath holding one clenched fist against the wall. He stared at the ground. Fuck Francis. Fuck his family. Fuck getting his hopes up all the time. As if anyone actually could relate to him. His new friends were just as bad, thinking all he needed was Francis of all people - Francis with his perfect life, and perfect self, and perfect hair. Arthur clenched his jaw. Francis who thought he could fix Arthur. He wasn't some charity case. This was supposed to be a one time thing, so he could handle his family, but now that someone he sees regularly saw him, it's not. Francis won't let him live this down. He'll ask questions and demand answers.

He wished he could be normal. He wished he could have fun like everyone else. He wished he wasn't so strange and could just ignore how he felt and enjoy himself.

"You look like you could use some help, friend," A heavy, deep voice broke through the sounds of his ragged breathing.

Arthur sighed and stood up straight. "Look, I've heard that before, and it didn't work out. I don't need some bar buddy to try to get me out of my shell or some bullshit."

A smooth chuckle ringed in Arthur's ears. "I am not one for that."

Arthur turned the face the stranger guessing that he wouldn't leave until acknowledged. Surprisingly, it was the familiar face of the scarfed man he saw staring the night before. He stood tall in the same scarf wearing a smile as if he thought the entire scene was pleasant.

"Who are you?"

"Ivan, and you are?"

"Arthur." He did not put his hand out to shake. For once, he felt no need to analyze his handshake using all the facts his father taught him.

"You shouldn't take things out on your hands, yes?" Ivan nodded to Arthur's hands. Arthur looked at them to survey the damage. The alcohol had helped hide some of the pain, but not all of it. His knuckles were bleeding and skin was hanging off a few. He shrugged it off for the time being.

"Got any other options?"

"Want to smoke?" Ivan shrugged.

Arthur snorted. Just another person offering cigarettes in hopes it'll actually quell nerves. "Look, they don't actually calm me down, so I'll just…" Arthur lamely waved his arm at the wall as if he was actually about to go back to losing a fight against it.

Ivan laughed again confusing Arthur. "There's a lot of things you can smoke. How do you want to feel?"

Arthur shook his head. "Excuse me?"

Ivan rolled his eyes and dug through his jacket. He pulled out a blunt and reached to give it to Arthur. "Here."

Arthur took it. "Thanks, I guess. Do you have a light?" Ivan nodded and signaled to sit against the wall. Once seated, Ivan took the first drag and handed it to Arthur. That sat for a while, taking turns until Ivan waved Arthur off.

"I like other things more, so I'll just do it a little."

Arthur took a drag. He supposed he did feel calmer at least, but a lot could contribute to that. "What other stuff?"

There was a sparkle in Ivan's eyes. He shrugged, "Depends."

Arthur looked at the joint and nodded to himself. "Well, I'm fine with this for now."

Silence fell over the pair again. Suddenly, Ivan began speaking as he stared off. "Sometimes, people need to take things to feel something and sometimes nothing, you know? It's nice to be able to take something to distract you from the rest of the world. It's all shit, and those kinds of things help."

Apparently, it was vague sharing time for large Slavic men. Arthur peeked at Ivan to see that the man was staring at him expectantly. Arthur stated, "I get what you mean."

Ivan hummed. Arthur guessed he said the right thing. Ivan tapped Arthur on the knuckles. They had stopped bleeding and the blood had dried along his hands.

"So no more taking life out on your hands. You want to feel something? You want to be numb? I can give you things. I will not charge next time, okay? Just find me. I'm around."

Arthur nodded. "Sure." His response seemed to please Ivan who wore the same pleasant smile as before. Inside, Arthur was shocked. He was being accosted by a drug dealer. He really shouldn't have been surprised to find people like that in places like this, but still. He never would have expected someone like a drug dealer to actually be kind. Maybe this man understood Arthur and what he needed in a way the others did not.

Ivan stood and looked down at Arthur. "You are a handsome boy. You should not hurt yourself like that."

Arthur surveyed his hands again. They didn't look very good. "Yeah. Thanks for this." He motioned so Ivan knew what he meant.

"Find me soon, yes?"

"Uh - sure."

Ivan nodded. "Goodnight, Arthur."

Arthur raised a hand in farewell as the large man turned to leave. He watched him walk away as he continued to sit against the wall. Ivan was interesting to say the least. He was unnerving, but nice. Arthur leaned back to attempt to enjoy the high for what it was. He'd have to go home soon, since there was nowhere else to be.

After a few minutes, he stood and began a slow walk home. As he shuffled along, he picked at the skin on his knuckles trying to get any loose pieces off, but mostly only being successful in getting it to bleed again. Tonight was not a lucky night it seemed.

Everything felt off as he entered the back garden. He plopped onto the ground and eyed his cracked open window - the cyclops eye now felt mocking. With a sigh, his eyes gazed over the path he would have to take to get back up to the window. It was a lot of work and effort. He did it the night before, but he didn't feel like shit the night before. Now, he just wanted to lay down and wallow. He went back to picking at his skin. There'll be no way to hide the damage in the morning.

With that, he stood and walked over to a potted plant by the door. Underneath was the spare key. It was an emergency enough to account for using it. Once inside, he attempted to close the door and lock it as quietly as possible. Downstairs was the danger zone. If he was loud upstairs and woke up his brothers, he had a chance of talking himself out of any trouble. There was no chance if he woke up his parents.

He took a few minutes to prepare himself to go up the stairs. Certain steps creaked, but he was having trouble remembering which ones and if it was better to walk in the center or near the edge. He bounced on his toes to get his blood pumping. He was going to make a tiptoe run to the top.

With a deep breath, he bolted trying to stay light on his feet. A few stairs creaked and his steps weren't as quiet as they could have been. He stumbled at the top. He froze in the hall. Walt's light was on. Sometimes it was hard having a night owl as a brother. Arthur walked slowly to the bathroom and closed the door lightly behind him before turning on the light.

He looked even worse than the night before. If he was going to make this a habit, he needed to invest in better eyeliner, something that didn't smear as much when he cried. A chuckle escaped his lips before he could stop the sound. His hands were a mess and eyes bloodshot, yet make-up was his first thought. God, he really was a Nelly.

Following the steps he took the night before, he washed his face roughly. He splashed water on his hair and washed up his arms hoping to get the dirt, sweat, and other smells off him. He was careful of the cuts on his hands which looked better once he washed the excess blood off. He use a nail clipper to clip off any loose skin in hopes it would heal faster. He was hoping it wouldn't bruise and make it even more noticeable. He'd have to come up with an excuse, but at the moment was too exhausted.

There were a lot of things he'd have to come up with later. Who knows how best to handle the recent developments in the Francis situation? He'd want to talk about it. He'd try to trick Arthur into talking about it, and, god forbid, Arthur actually let anything slip. He looked down. The state of his hands were just the beginning.

Opening the door, he noted that Walt's light was still on. If he strained, he thought he could hear Walt moving around. Quickly, he dashed to his room in case his brother was going into the hall. Walt was another issue. He wouldn't stop until he talked with Arthur. He'd have to suck it up and just be prepared for anything.

He sighed. Now was not a time to think about his problems and try to face them. He could reflect on the evening tomorrow when his brain felt less muddled and his eyes weren't heavy with exhaustion.

A/N: So much life stuff going on. I haven't had a lot of time to write but am still a couple of chapters ahead, so I'm still keeping my upload schedule. I'm slowly getting to work on the poem stuff that becomes important in later chapters. Thanks for everyone who reached out. I've been trying to reply, but use mobile mostly, and, man, do the DMs here suck on mobile.

Also I made a fandom twitter (something separate from my real identity I can shitpost and advertise my fics on) and a discord to try to keep up with fandom, since people kind of jumped ship from tumblr. My twitter is {at}bethfrombackrow if you wanna talk on there. I'm also always taking recommendations for dicords to join. (I really hate how doesn't like linking to other places even using the at)

You'll hear from me soon.