Warning; alternate universe, supernatural, teen & sorta oblivious! Arthur, lolangst, one-sided Arthur/Cobb
Disclaimer; if only, ohoho ~
Author's Notes; You make me so happy, reviews. Thank you all! And for those that stuck with this fic, thank you for that as well. A subject I would like to bring up is that this fanfic is turning ... cliche, as some of you might have noticed. But not to worry, I'm trying to throw in some twists and turns, so bare with me ~
From the time in which Arthur woke up that Thursday morning, he knew that it was a good day, because, the moment he woke up, he's eager to get ready. Not to mention, his hair was actually cooperating by staying in the direction in which he combed it. He had a light bounce in his step as he scurried from his shower to his bedroom and to his closet. After tying a tie around his neck, he peered over in front of the mirror. He thought that he looked absolutely dashing, and the stupid grin on his face told the world that he didn't give a damn about the other problems. Yet, the moment he realized that he was grinning like an idiot in front of Eames' mirror, he tied it down.
With his lips pressed into a faint line, he peered at himself one last time before leaning the short distance over. He tapped the mirror.
"I'm going now," he announced with a whisper and a very noticeable small smile.
As he pulled away, he hurried to grab his bag before ushering downstairs. It was also fantastic that the granola bar that he quickly grasped was the one with the yogurt along the bottom— his personal favorite kind. He was definitely having a good day.
Arriving at the school not fifteen minutes later, he parked and strolled in with a fresh atmosphere striking the area around him. Once crossing paths with his locker, he was glad to see that the profanity on Tadashi's locker and the arrow had been removed. Adding to his list of good things happening today, Arthur advanced onto grabbing his needed supplies.
As he sat in class, he anticipated Ariadne's arrival time. She came in not five minutes after him. When she sat down, the dark brunet turned to his classmate with a suppressed grin. "Good morning," he greeted.
Ariadne glanced around before looking at him again. She quirked a brow. "What did you have for breakfast?" she demanded.
Arthur blinked, his smile faltering a bit. "A granola bar?" he answered in a slight question.
She narrowed her eyes slightly. "Well, whatever you had. I want it."
"Wait. What?"
Confusion flickered across his face.
The female laughed and patted him on the shoulder. "Arthur," she started promptly, "it sounds and looks like you got laid last night."
The young man fell silent. His mouth was opened to retort something, but he quickly clamped it close when he realized that he had nothing to make of it. He ended up staring at her as if she had grown two heads. That only made her laugh again.
"But seriously," she said as her laughter ceased and the stares from other classmates turned away, "your 'good morning' was never that enthusiastic before. What happened?"
Arthur blinked once more. "I just feel ... amazing?" he replied, feeling as if that wasn't the answer she wanted.
Apparently, what he felt was right. Ariadne gave him a plain look that clearly stated 'I know you got laid', which was nothing along those lines.
"I can't be enthusiastic, now?" he tsked.
"Not that; I'm just pointing it out." She beamed at him. "Or maybe because you're excited to see us?"
That could be a reason for his cheerfulness. And not wanting to push the topic further, he nodded. "It was a long five days."
She leaned back against her seat. "I can imagine! I tried calling you to see if you still had your phone, but it seemed like your parents took that up."
"That, and my car keys and laptop."
"You're kidding," Ariadne quipped. "What did you do for five days straight? You don't look as if you gained any pounds."
"Well," Arthur responded after glancing down to examine his own shape, "I slept and lazed around. Watched TV for a bit."
At the sound of the last few words, the young female struck up a new topic: TV shows. She blabbered on on that subject until their teacher arrived.
It wasn't long until he was in second period, then math class. He seated himself next to Dom and, like before, greeted the man with enthusiasm, but this time, he calmed down a bit just so the blond wouldn't become suspicious. Luckily, Dom waved it off with a returned greeting before leaning over with a piece of paper in his hand. "We're doing a math project," he explained, placing the assignment down so Arthur could read it. "I'm wondering if you want to be my partner. Since everyone else is paired up, and I know you better than my other classmates, even though I grew up with them."
Arthur quickly skimmed the project information, then nodded. "Sure."
"Good. Can you come over? Or we can meet at Ariadne's cafe?"
Arthur considered both options. Well, he didn't know Dom that well to go to his home. Besides, he knew he would feel uncomfortable with the other's parents. "The cafe," he decided. "Today?"
Dom nodded. "Yeah. After school, if you can. If not, we can do it Sunday. I have practice and a game this Friday and Saturday."
"Today's fine," he responded, handing the sheet back.
Dom flashed him a grin. "Great," he ended, turning back to face the front.
This left Arthur to deal with the fluttered feeling in his stomach.
— ox — xo —
School ended rather quickly, and Arthur was happy to finally get out of the building— not that it would really matter. Nothing involved bullying acts and taunting (aside from Lorenzo's and Houston's, but they weren't harmful), much to his fancy. He met Ariadne at the door, as usual. As he approached his car, he reminded her that he would be tailing her to her parent's owned cafe.
"Alright," she chirped in reply. "See you there!"
Somehow, Arthur ended up at the cafe before she did, which made him pick whether to go in or to wait for her arrival. In the end, he decided to wait.
It wasn't a long wait. Ariadne pulled up in the lot next to him three minutes after his arrival, and they got out together.
Her mother, it would seem like, gushed when they entered.
"Such a charming man!" she commented, handing them both a cup of coffee. "My good tastes rubbed off."
She ruffled her daughter's hair. By time she removed her hand, Ariadne was blushing. "He's not my ..." the younger female cleared her throat. "This is Arthur— the new student I told you about."
"Oh, is it?" Her mother peered in his direction, eyes shining. "Arthur, Arthur, Arthur— that's all I hear coming from her mouth these days."
Forcing the blush down, he chuckled lightly. Ariadne joined in on the nervous chuckled a second later. After the laughter died, they both quickly took a sip of their coffee to save them from further embarrassment.
"He's here to work on a project with Dom," Ariadne explained as she went behind the counter. "Would you like anything to eat?"
At the question, he shook his head. "I'm not as hungry." He then switched his gaze to the mother and gave her a nod. "I do adore your bagels, though."
If it was possible for her face to light up anymore, she did.
Clasping her hands together, she turned towards her daughter. "He wants a bagel," she informed. "Give him two. Butter?" Arthur nodded again to answer the question. "Butter," she repeated, as if Ariadne couldn't hear him directly.
As the bagels were handed over, he pulled out his wallet, but Mrs. Dutch, bless her, pushed his money away and said that it was on the house.
After a smile and a word of thanks, he headed to a table and sat down. Fortunately, Dom arrived shortly after.
Ten minutes proceeding the settling down, Dom was sharing his idea. Arthur listened in, announced his ideas, and then proceeded to simply stare at the blond male. As Dom wrote his thoughts down, the dark brunet allowed his eyes to travel over his classmate's features. When discovering that he was staring too intently, he glanced away and sipped his coffee. Dom began again shortly after.
"She wants an essay on it—"
"I can do the essay. You'll complete the construction of the project?"
The athlete agreed. "That works."
"Two pages, double spaced?"
His partner nodded, then peered up and smiled. "Looks like we're off on a good start." Giving Arthur a copy of the assignment, Dom stood up. "Well. We should ... meet again, if you want— to check on how I'm doing on my side of the project."
Arthur couldn't help but allow a smile to travel over his lips. "Sunday?"
"At two. I should be half way finished with it."
"Alright."
Their gazes lingered for a moment, then Dom cleared his throat. "I should be on my way. Later."
"Yeah, later."
As Dom left, Arthur dropped his sights to the table and grinned at the memory of their interaction. He felt his heart flutter again. His stomach churned in an equivalent way as his rapidly beating heart. Dammit, he was becoming a school girl once more.
Shaking off the moments to grin upon, he stood and gathered his items. After bidding mother and daughter a farewell, he headed back to his car. All the way from the cafe to walking into his bedroom, he was in a more cheerful mood. His fingers even drummed against his textbooks before he placed them down on his desk. And when he turned towards the mirror to return Eames' greeting, he did so without knowing that his eyes and mouth were smiling. "Hello to you, Eames!"
Like Ariadne, Mal, Lorenzo, and Houston, Eames' eyebrow shot up. "In a happy mood, aren't we? I can't imagine someone being as excited to go back to school as you."
Arthur shook his head. "I'm just having a good day. It would be helpful if you don't ruin it." He turned to his closet while the Englishman huffed.
"Darling, I strive to make your day better, not worse."
Grabbing his clothes and towel, he proceeded back to the mirror. "I trust you not to," he replied before heading into the shower.
Thirty minutes later, he climbed onto his bed and sat in front of Eames.
"Alright, Arthur. Spill."
The dark brunet pursed his lips slightly, considering whether to tell or not. Well— he had to share his happiness with someone, and someone that wasn't going to tell.
"I'm doing a project with Dom."
Eames stared at him for a few moments, then blinked. "That's it?"
"Of course."
"Is the project fun ... ?" From the sound of the Englishman's voice, Arthur could tell that he was confused.
"Not ... exactly. I'm having to write the two-page essay while Dom does the construction."
"Oh."
For some time, Eames was silent. Through the next few seconds, Arthur watched as the other's gaze flickered off him, then back, then off again. "You like the project because you're working with Dom?"
The small smile was back on the younger of the two's expression. "Yeah— yes, I suppose so. He's nice. I'm sure you two would get along well, considering that you're both into sports."
Eames was now frowning slightly, which wiped the smile off Arthur's face.
"What?"
The light brunet shook his head. "Nothing. Just tired. Thought you died." A faint smile displayed on Eames' lips when Arthur laughed lightly at the comment.
"I had to meet Dom to discuss the project. You should get sleep if you don't want to die."
The Britishman nodded. "Yeah. Talk to you later."
With that, Eames turned and disappeared, leaving Arthur's reflection behind.
For the next few hours, he completed his homework and ate dinner. Now, at eight, he was sitting around, thumbing through his textbook while repeatedly peering up at the mirror to see if Eames had appeared.
He hadn't.
A frown collected on Arthur's face.
Was there a reason why the other didn't get enough sleep? He didn't appear in the morning, which gave Arthur the idea that he had been sleeping. Maybe he stayed up all night doing something— like watching him, which was naturally creepy. He would need to bring up that topic again, just to make sure that Eames wasn't doing that. But for now, he needed to get ready for bed.
Promptly at nine, he slid back in between his sheets and turned to face the mirror.
Eames still wasn't there.
Arthur would have worried, but he canceled out his worry with the fact that the opposing figure could be sleeping, and so it wasn't the best idea to wake him up.
When he awoke the next morning, there was an unfamiliar silence that lingered in the air. There wasn't the same greeting that he had gotten use to. There wasn't even shallow breathing that would indicate that Eames was up. Maybe the other was really knocked out from lack of sleep, but even he can't imagine someone sleeping that much. Nevertheless, he waved the thought aside.
The day proceeded on as normal.
At the lunch table, Arthur found himself quieter than usual. He ate his lunch and blinked at what his friends were saying; in the corner of his mind, he kept wondering if Eames disappeared for good or not. But it wasn't like him to worry. Well, 'worry' wouldn't be the correct terminology. He was just concerned and curious.
And speaking of Eames—
"Mal, can I have a word after lunch?"
The brunette female glanced up from talking to Dom about something. "Sure," she replied with a grin. "What about?"
Arthur's eyes darted away. "Something involving a mirror," he responded, finishing his banana. His gaze soon slid back to her once he tuned in on the silence.
She was staring at him. "A mirror?" she asked briskly.
The student nodded. He then watched as she excused herself from the table and gestured him to follow.
Bidding a 'pardon me' to the others, he stood and quickly tailed her out. Once in the hallway, she backed him into a wall.
"A mirror," she repeated, her dark eyes boring into Arthur's.
The young male pressed himself against the wall to give him breathing room.
"Eames— he told me to ask you about him, and—"
"So you're the one that moved into my old house! Did Eames give you a scare?"
Arthur cleared his throat and nodded slightly. "A bit. He's ... lively, I can say at the very least."
"Can you see him, though?"
Arthur knew where this was heading at, and he didn't want to answer, but the stare Mal was giving him urged him to tell the truth. "Yes ... ?"
She brightened automatically. "Did he tell you about the fairy tale?"
"And the kiss to get out," he completed irritably, "yes."
She took a step back and patted his shoulder. "You're perfect for him."
Arthur couldn't believe it. "What?"
Mal leaned in slightly. "What's the most memorable thing he said to you?"
"Uh ... he hadn't showered in six years?"
"Besides that," she waved off. "That he use to bully students, and now he's in love with me."
Mal clasped her hands together. "He's growing up," she gushed. "So, are you—"
"No," Arthur replied sharply, glaring.
Her expression fell a bit. "Oh. Okay. Well, how long are you going to stay in the house?"
"Pardon?"
"When do you think you're moving out?"
He frowned. "Not anytime soon."
"In that case ... is it possible that I can talk to him? Cellphone on speaker?"
Arthur shrugged slightly. "Fine by me, though, he's been sleeping since six last night. He should be up by this afternoon, though."
"Alright. I'll get your number from Dom."
She passed him a smile before heading back into the cafeteria.
— ox — xo —
Arthur arrived home hours later. He wasn't in the best of moods, considering that apparently, the bullying wasn't completely gone. Someone had called out "hey, gaywad!" behind him, but he didn't turn back to see if the other was shouting at him or not. Because he didn't know who it was directing to, he wasn't as upset over it. It, after all, wasn't as bad as the other things that had happened to him.
Shaking those thoughts from his head, he called out a greeting to his parents. When he didn't receive a response, he assumed that they were both out. Not caring much about being alone, Arthur continued up to his bedroom.
It was still quiet.
Placing his backpack down on the ground, he paced towards the mirror.
Eames was still gone.
"Eames," he called out, gently tapping the mirror. When he didn't get a response, he frowned. "Eames," he repeated, peering closely at his reflection as if he could see the mirroring world. He couldn't. "I talked to Mal about you. She'll be calling to talk—"
"What did she say about me?"
Arthur nearly jumped out of his skin. His heart hopped to his throat when Eames suddenly appeared in his sights and spoke. Clenching his chest, he backed against the bed. "At least give me a warning!" he huffed, echoing the familiar words from before.
Eames wasn't grinning, though. His oceanic eyes were fixed on him with some sort of determination, and truthfully, Arthur felt fear beginning to grip him.
"She just asked me questions, and then she asked to talk go him—"
Just as he said that, his pocket vibrated. Using that as an excuse to look away, the dark brunet glanced down to his hand, which was fishing the phone out. Flipping it open, once it was out, he placed it against his ear.
"Arthur speaking."
"Hey, Arthur. It's Mal. Is he up?"
The young student's gaze flickered to Eames, who was peering at him intently. "He's up."
"May I—"
"Yeah, sure. Hold on."
Drawing the phone from being pressed against his ear, he placed it on speaker and set it on the bed.
"It's on speaker," he announced.
"Thanks, Art. Eames— can you hear me okay?"
From the side, Arthur watched as the sour face on the Englishman faded into a soft smile. He couldn't help but frown in response to Eames' reaction to Mal's voice.
"Yeah, I can hear you. How are you?"
"I'm great. How's Arthur treating you?"
Eames didn't meet his eye. "He likes to beat me," the Britishman chuckled.
Mal laughed along. "Sounds like you two became friends."
"You could say that."
At that moment, Arthur excused himself and backed out of the bedroom. As he proceeded down the hallway, the voice of the two gradually got softer and softer until they weren't recognizable. By then, he was downstairs, peering in the fridge to see what he could snack on. He settled on an apple.
After washing it and peeling off the core, then cutting it to smaller slices, he bit into one and allowed the sweet juice to flow down his throat. He chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed.
He vaguely wondered what Mal and Eames were talking about, but he knew very well that eavesdropping wasn't something he should conduct. He would just have to ask either of them later, but he doubted, for some reason, that Eames would tell him exactly what they said. Mal as well. They were probably talking about him, and Arthur wasn't one to appreciate being spoken about behind his back, even if it was good news.
He took another bite of the remaining five slices and leaned against the kitchen counter. His mind whirled with thoughts about the two continuously. If Eames used to fancy the female, then it should be easy for him to fall in love with her again, no? And Mal— well, Arthur could only hope that she would return the emotion, else, he would be back at point one.
It wasn't like he didn't like the fellow Englishman; it was simply complicated. He enjoyed the other's presence, and because it had nearly been a month since his first encounter with the man, he found himself attracted to Eames. Just not that sort of attraction. Rather, he would classify Eames as a companion and perhaps a friend, but never in the other manner. He wasn't gay, dammit. He just thought that Dom was handsome, and Eames' lips were utterly kissable. He was sure that other men his age would think the same as him too, so it wasn't a big deal.
Shrugging off the ideas, Arthur finished his last slice of the apple. After cleaning his hands, he paced upstairs and towards his bedroom. At arrival, he heard Eames' voice coming to an irruptive stop. "—doesn't understand. ... Eavesdropping are we, love? That's never a good action."
The dark brunet cleared his throat. "This is my room. I'm entering it," he returned while casting his sights on the phone. "Do you need more time alone?"
Eames shook his head. "Nah. I'm done."
From the speaker on, the young student could hear a light sigh coming from Mal. "We're fine, Arthur. I need to go now. Talk to you soon, Eames. See you Monday, Arthur."
With that, she hung up.
Of the things he noticed, the first was the fact that she didn't sound as enthusiastic as before. He peered at Eames then, as if asking for an explanation, but the other refused to give him anything. Instead, he muttered something about going to sleep again, which was a bit suspicious on Eames' part. He had been sleeping a lot lately, and another thing Arthur realized was that the Englishman wasn't behaving like himself. There must be some sort of trigger to it.
He moved towards the mirror somewhat unconsciously.
"What's wrong with you?"
"Just little things, darling." Eames offered him a small smile. "Nothing to worry about, really."
That alone made Arthur curious towards why the older route was acting like this. "What did you and Mal talk about?"
"We caught up on what happened. She had to move away because her father had gotten a job in France, but they moved back here a bit ago."
"I ... see."
For a moment, his eyes lingered on the light brunet, quietly observing the man. Eames cleared his throat moments later.
"Do you fancy Dom?"
That wasn't an expected question, yet that didn't mean that he didn't think of it. His sights darted away from the older man.
"I'm not sure," he responded, biting his lips slightly.
He had told his mother that Dom was very interesting and wholly attractive, but he also stated that it wasn't a romantic interest. Now, he was thinking that he could be wrong. That maybe he thought of Dom as— no. No.
Dom was just dashing, and that was it.
"No, I don't. He's ... attractive, but I—"
"Good. You shouldn't chase him."
Arthur frowned. "Why not?"
Eames stared at him. "Don't get caught up in him, love. He's not ... he won't be interested."
That made Arthur scowl. "He won't be interested?"
"I'm not saying that you're unattractive—"
"You know what I meant."
"I'm pretty sure that he's not attracted to you."
Arthur's brows furrowed as his lips curled up into a sneer. "What proof do you have?"
"So you do like him."
It wasn't a question, but a strong pointed sentence that drove through the young man's heart and made it pound.
"I said that I—"
"Please excuse me while I go take a nap."
Before Arthur could stop him, Eames disappeared and left behind his reflection in the mirror.
Now, Arthur was sure that something was wrong. He wasn't sure if Dom played a part in it or not. Through the smiles given and the tired, but yet, soft cheerful tone, he was sure that Eames was angry. Arthur could almost see it flash across the man's face when he said "so you do like him". Seconds ago, he wasn't sure what sort of emotion flickered across, but now, he placed it as bitter anger.
With that being settled, he could now conclude that Dom obviously played a part in the new Eames. Usually, Arthur wasn't a better, but at the moment, he could almost say that it was jealousy. That was the only explanation to Eames' change of personality. Was the other man jealous that Arthur was spending more time with Dom rather than him? It was a possibility, but he doubted it would be something like that. After all, Eames had spent six years in the mirror; those that talked to him, including Mal, probably had gone out often as well. Maybe because he said that Dom was attractive, and Eames felt compared? That would be logical, yes, but was that enough to make the Englishman distant? Perhaps. He needed a straightforward answer, and from the looks of it, Eames wasn't going to give it to him.
With a frustrated sigh, he shoved the thoughts out of his head and focused on the essay he had to do for the project.
For the remainder of the day and Saturday, Eames didn't make a presence. Arthur found himself wondering what exactly was going through the other's head. Could he be dying or something along those lines? If that was the case, then surely he would be informed, yes? He couldn't help but become concerned, though. Yet, his concern disappeared when Sunday rolled around.
At midday, he took a shower and groomed himself. He tried to look as if he didn't spend nearly an hour getting ready, but he ended up in a button up, slacks, and his hair gelled back as normal. After grabbing his rough draft (which was front and back and barely edited over), he ushered out the door.
He proceeded to drive to Dom's house, feeling a bit funny on the inside as he got there. Upon arrival, he rang the doorbell and waited. During the wait, he began critiquing himself; why had he worn this button up? It was a puke green. That wasn't a very fanciable color. And his shoes needed shining.
Seconds later, the door opened, making Arthur's gaze snap from his shoes to the person who opened the door. His heart stopped for a moment when his eyes locked on Dom in shorts and nothing else.
"Sorry, mate. Just got out of the shower," Dom apologized, slipping on his shirt while stepping aside. "Come in."
Arthur did, but in a bit of a daze. As the door closed behind him, he returned to reality. Shaking his head from the thoughts, he peered around, judging.
"Nice place," he commented, his mouth dry.
Dom threw him a grin. "Thanks. Ma made me clean it when I told her that you were coming over today. She'll be back in an hour." He began walking up the stairs. "The project's almost done," Dom called over his shoulder, gesturing him to follow.
Arthur immediately became the blond male's shadow.
"Took me a hell of a time, though." A dry chuckle left the athlete as he entered a room.
Without word, Arthur followed. He stopped, though, two steps into the room. Compared to his own, Dom's was smaller and cramped. His desk was messy with paper, folders, and binders. To the side, at the very edge of said desk, was what appeared to be a rough draft of the project.
Dom stood beside it. "I just don't get what Mr. Miles' talking about, and Mal refuses to do it for me because she thinks that her father would find out."
Arthur strolled over and peered at the thing on Dom's desk.
He blinked. "Well," he drawled, finally talking. "You're missing the base."
"Wha ... shit," Dom cursed. "No wonder it wouldn't stay up." The blond straightened up and folded his arms across his chest. Arthur copied the movements.
There was a torn silence between in which Arthur stared at the project and then came to a conclusion that—
"Do I have to start over?"
"Yeah."
Dom groaned. "You're serious?"
"It wouldn't work without the base."
The other cursed again.
Arthur let his arms fall to his side as he grabbed the folder that he had placed down on the desk on top of stacks of various papers. "I could ... do the project, if you want."
"I suppose I'll do the essay?"
"I already did— but it's a rough draft." He pulled out the piece of paper and handed it to the other male.
His partner skimmed it. "This is ... wow. Did you use a thesaurus?"
Arthur couldn't tell if that was an insult or a compliment, but he shook his head. "Just out of my brain. I'll work on the project, and you can proofread my paper?" That wasn't much of a fair deal, but he knew that Dom was involved in sports and such. That did take away precious time.
"It's alright. I'll just start again—"
"I insist." Besides, Arthur needed the grade. "I'll start on it tonight. We can work on it during the week. What days are you busy?"
"I usually go to Ariadne's on Wednesday with the group. You should join us when you have the time. I have soccer practice this Friday."
Arthur scrolled over the days of the week before nodding. "Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday seem fine. It should be done by Friday. It's due next Monday, right?"
Dom glanced at his instruction sheet. "Yeah, Monday." His gaze drew away from the sheet and landed back on Arthur. "Sorry for making you do all the work."
Arthur smiled faintly. "It's nothing, really."
— ox — xo —
The 'nothing' proved to be 'something' when Arthur settled down and got started. It was Sunday night, and he was staring at the supplies he had to buy in order to complete the project. The base, which Dom didn't do at all, since the instructions were all on the other side of the page, was complicated. Arthur struggled making it for an hour before he finally grasped hold of how, and by time he was half way finished, it was already time to wash up and head to bed.
Monday afternoon didn't prove easier. In fact, it was harder.
Dom had came over and was now seated next to him, peering intently as Arthur glued a carefully carved shape onto another that was centered on the base. It would have been easier if not for the fact that Dom was inches away from him.
In the end, Arthur managed to secure the shape in before sitting back, tired. Dom laughed softly at him, then reached over and grabbed another shape. Arthur watched, very amused, as Dom tried to copy his movements. Apparently, it didn't come out the same.
Tuesday afternoon, they had an easier job in gluing the shapes in the correct places.
By time Thursday rolled around, they were finished in time for dinner.
Arthur leaned back against the chair and breathed in relief. Dom laid on the floor. After a bit of silence, Arthur spoke up. "You should stay for dinner. Mother won't mind. She loves guests." He peered down and grinned at his classmate.
Dom gazed up at him. "It's fine. I don't want to bother again."
"Oh, no. It's not a bother. Mother fancies your company, really. It's usually quiet during the dinner between us and father, so you're generally welcomed."
Dom rolled onto his back and placed both hands under his head to shield it from the hard floor. "How can I refuse? Your mother's food is delicious."
Arthur beamed again. "The best of the best," he answered.
Dom smiled.
For a few more seconds, they didn't talk, but when the silence was broken, it was with a subject he dreaded.
"What happened between you and your mother? You two seem ... distant."
The young brunet glanced away at the sound of that. It was the same question Eames had asked a week or two ago. Back then, he wanted the subject gone. Now, he felt as if he could tell. His eyebrows drew towards each other slightly.
"You don't need to tell me if you don't want to," Dom said almost moments later.
Arthur leaned against the desk and closed his eyes. "It's ... fine. Mother and I just don't get along as well."
"Is there a specific reason?"
"I rather not talk about it."
"Oh. Okay. Sorry."
Silence again.
Arthur exhaled slowly. "She's my step-mother," he said after a minute or two of the irritating silence.
The corner of his mouth twitched at the mention of step-mother. He hadn't thought or even used that word in the longest of time. It felt foreign on his tongue; it even seemed foreign to picture his current mother as not the one that gave birth to him.
"Oh," was the response given to him.
Arthur had wanted more than the pity 'oh', but he didn't strive for it. Instead, he stood up and forced a smile at the other man. "Dinner should be ready, come on."
Dom got to his feet, looking rather awkward, but returned his smile in the end. They made their way down the stairs and into the dining room. The table was already set up, but his mother was in the kitchen cooking. Arthur started to sit down, but he knew that that was rude gesture.
After conducting his classmate to sit, the dark brunet paced towards the kitchen. He peeked in. "Do you mind if Dom stays for dinner?"
His mother glanced up from her cooking. "Oh, not at all."
Arthur should have ended the whole entire conversation there, but he didn't want to be seen worthless. "Do you need any help?" he asked tentatively.
She had turned back to the stove, but she made her request anyways. "Can you take the dishes to the table? And call your father."
Following the orders, he served the plates to the table while sharing a smile with the athlete every time he appeared with a dish in his hand. After the fifth plate was placed down, he informed the blond that he was going to find his father. Once the opposing male nodded, understanding, Arthur went on his way to find his fatherly figure.
He was found upstairs.
"I'll be right down." It was the same reply his father gave to everyone, and by now, Arthur knew that meant 'give me at least half an hour more', so he left it at that and returned to the dining table. He took the seat next to Dom as his mother settled in the one diagonal of him. They started feasting, no one asking where his father was. Five minutes in, Dom began the talk.
"Your food is delicious. Have you considered becoming a chef?"
Arthur watched as his mother flushed.
"Thank you, Mr. Cobb, and yes, I have actually considered that." Well, Arthur just learned something today. "I just don't have the time."
Arthur didn't even know what she did. All he knew was that his mother was a house wife. He knew his father had a job with the company producing coffee, but as far as his knowledge, his mother stayed at home and cooked, cleaned, and that was basically it.
"Oh, well. My mother works for a restaurant. They might be hiring."
His mother's lips curved into a smile, making her look younger and lovelier. "I'll have to decline. I have too much in my hand. But perhaps Arthur can take up a job ad a waiter."
Dom's gaze settled on him. "I can see that. How about it?"
Arthur managed a small grin. "I'll think about it."
In reality, he didn't want a job. It would take up too much of his time, and not to mention, he would be tired on most nights.
"Alright." Dom flashed him another heartwarming grin before turning back to his mother. "I happen to notice your garden ..."
And that subject alone carried through until the time in which his father came in. The topic took an irruptive turn to universities and colleges, and then to work after his and Dom's graduation. Dom mentioned something along the lines of being a pharmacist, which made Arthur lie. Instead of admitting that he wanted to be a literature teacher, he stated that he was thinking about becoming an accountant or a technician. Those jobs seemed to satisfy his father.
When dinner was through, Arthur was a bit reluctant to let Dom go home, but nonetheless, he bid his farewell.
— ox — xo —
His heart was in flutters as he stepped out of the shower fresh and clean and slid in bed. A smile danced across his lips as he snuggled within the blankets. As his eyes closed, Dom somehow strolled into his empty mind. Before, he had repeatedly told himself to stop thinking about the blond athlete all together, but he found that, the more he tried to stop himself from thinking about his classmate, the more he did think about him. At this point, he allowed his mind to run freely. He knew he was becoming more and more like the blushing school girl. That needed to be stopped.
Unfortunately, it wasn't as easy.
Along came Saturday, he received a phone call from Dom asking if he could come over to show him the final report. Having nothing to do, he accepted.
Ten minutes later, he greeted his classmate and led him to the bedroom. There, Dom handed him the essay. Arthur seated himself on the edge of the bed and read his writing in Times New Roman print. There wasn't much corrections— just indents and whatnot.
He nodded in approval. "Looks good to me." He handed it back to the soccer player, who took it back and glimpsed over it. "Does this still look fair to you?" Arthur continued, gesturing at the completed project.
Dom placed the essay down and peered at the built shapes.
Seconds later, he drew back and shared another grin with Arthur. "Looks fantastic."
As the blond turned back to the project, Arthur took that moment to survey Dom once more. The blond male looked simply angelic.
His eyes tore away as he bit his lip. He needed to stop thinking of the other in this manner. They were better off as friends. And Dom wasn't interested, like Eames said.
The thought of that made his heart clench. The feeling was painful. Too painful.
He closed his eyes and heaved a sigh.
When he opened his sights once more, he found Dom staring at him.
"Something wrong?"
Arthur forced a smile. "Nothing. Just stress."
The other squinted at him.
Arthur glanced away.
"Relax, Arthur," Dom soothed, leaning towards him. "Our project is fine. It's much better than what I can do alone."
The brunet gazed back and locked eyes with Dom. For the first second, he froze and stared. A second later, he had leaned forward, and without thinking, pressed his lips against Dom's. His stomach suddenly churned as his heartbeat increased in speed.
His eyes were closed. He melted into the kiss, but only for a moment.
Dom jerked back and stood up quickly. "I ... I don't feel the same way, Arthur. Sorry." Not meeting his eye, his classmate made a brisk move out of the room and house.
Arthur wanted to scream and cry, but anger flashed over him— anger that he did something so stupid. He had taken it way too fast. He should have listened to Eames.
Scowling, he flopped back onto his bed. As he did, he caught a sight from the corner of his eye, but when he glanced over, it was gone. He continued staring though, somewhat in shock, at the mirror reflecting himself.
He could have sworn that he just saw Eames. The Englishman wasn't smiling again, but he wasn't frowning either. Eames' eyes were dabbed with what seemed to be tears.