August 21st, 2014

AUTHOR: blackroseauthoress

August 21st, 2014

"I swear, Arthur, if you don't at least talk to him today, I will be forced to do something drastic."

Arthur wasn't crazy. Everyone believed that he was: his parents, his doctors, counselors, and psychiatrists. But he wasn't. He had just been born unlucky.

He was trying to ignore the manifestation of that unluckiness right now, as he scowled down at the rental, probably horribly unhygienic roller-skate that he was attempting to lace onto his foot.

An annoyed sigh came from over his shoulder and then, "Let me do it. He'll have finished his shift by the time you get those on."

Arthur rolled his eyes, but lifted his hands from the laces and watched as they began to move—to anyone else it would have seemed to happen by themselves. They twisted around each other, tightening, and finally laced themselves up with an overly-flamboyant bow. He snorted, but didn't speak as he used a chair to pull himself to his feet.

He hated roller-skating, and yet he'd been coming to this rink every weekend for the past two months. His initial reason for coming here had been to simply get his parents off his back. They always told him that he should go out more, spend time with other (read: normal) people. He shouldn't lock himself up in his room with his books all day. His mother had even started leaving brochures for places to visit around town in strategic places around the house.

What had really pushed him to finally go out, though, was Francis's constant whining that he was bored, and just because he was dead didn't mean he wanted to spend all his time cooped up.

Arthur had finally agreed to go to the roller rink, which had just happened to be the brochure he was looking at when his parents' needling and Francis's whining finally grew to be too much. And he'd hated it, of course. Falling on his ass constantly, having to cling to the railing surrounding the rink while five-year-olds whizzed by… He'd just made a promise to himself to never come back when he laid eyes on him.

"Now, come on! Do not be such a coward!" Francis was pushing at his shoulders, trying to move him toward where he was standing.

"Quit it, Francis," he hissed under his breath, attempting to dig his feet into the carpet. Which would have been a million times easier if he weren't wearing roller skates, and if the person pushing him wasn't a supernatural entity who was unfortunately much stronger than a normal human being.

He held out for a few long moments, but then he had to give up and ended up stumble-rolling toward the snack bar.

Where he was squirting cheese on a plate of nachos and grinning to himself as he hummed some god-awful pop song under his breath. He turned and handed the plate to the two girls who had been standing there with a "Hope you enjoy 'em!"

And then he turned toward Arthur with a disarming smile. "What can I get ya?"

Alfred—at least, that's what his nametag read—was probably the most gorgeous guy that Arthur had ever laid eyes on. He was also the sole reason why Arthur suffered through this indignity every weekend.

Usually he just skated around a couple times and then stood quietly in the corner, watching Alfred as he worked the snack bar. But Francis had been getting annoyed recently by his 'mooning' and had been pushing and pushing Arthur to actually ask the guy out.

Now, Francis whispered in his ear, "You can always say 'you'."

"Shut up." And shit. He wanted to yank the words out of the air as soon as they left his mouth, because he definitely hadn't meant to say that out loud. Alfred's eyebrows rose in surprise and Arthur immediately panicked, "No, not you! I was just…I was… I was talking to myself. I…I just… I'll just have a soda."

Francis was laughing at him. Arthur really wished, not for the first time in his life, that his constant companion had an actual throat. So he could fucking strangle him.

Alfred's eyebrows rose even higher for a moment, but then he smiled again—and dimples appeared when he smiled, which was a detail Arthur really wished he hadn't noticed. "Dude, you don't have to be so nervous. What kinda soda do you want?"

Arthur's mind was drawing a blank. Francis's voice came again, "Just say a root beer. I hope that I don't actually have to guide you through everything."

He managed to keep from responding to that one and just said, "Root beer." Probably a little too firmly.

Alfred just grinned again, though, and then turned to dispense the root beer. Giving Arthur a nice view of his backside.

"What I would do for a body," Francis sighed. And Arthur couldn't really argue with him.

"So," Alfred said when he turned back, "You come here a lot, right?" He set the root beer on the counter and Arthur was pretty sure he hadn't meant to order that large of a size. "I see you pretty much every week. You really like roller skating?"

"Um…" He wasn't sure how to answer that. "I guess?"

"'Cause I kind of noticed that you're pretty terrible." His grin widened as Arthur flushed. "You know, if you ever wanted help, I'm pretty good at skating. I could always give you some pointers if you wanted to come after my shift is over."

And Arthur felt his heart stop dead.

Until a finger poked the back of his skull. Hard. "Say yes or I'll dump that soda all over you."

"Ye—that would be fine." He tried to sound calm, but his voice squeaked a bit on the last word.

Alfred didn't comment, thankfully. "Great! I'm done at six, so I'll see ya then! Oh," and he pushed the soda across the counter to him with a wink that made Arthur's heart flutter like a spastic butterfly, "This one's on the house."