Of course, Roderich wasn't reassured in any way, the only thing he could hope for was that the meeting with their father would ride smoothly.
Arthur sank back into his bed. The room was now fully lit with a golden tan that complimented the oak walls. Shifting his head toward the window, he saw a glimpse of the sky behind the heavy curtains. Just a single glance, but there was no doubt he would remember it. Like a quote from a book with a jam stain covered over the words, there was something to remember it by. As the wind whistled an off-beat tune, Arthur slowly shut his eyes.
He could still feel the warmth within the mountain of wool and silk underneath his touch. Silence fell, and with it, Arthur's thoughts. Darkness surrounded him and engulfed him, just like the bed as he lay, but there was a difference between them. He just couldn't press a conclusion as to what. His brows started to tighten at the thought.
"This is absolutely outrageous, how do I expect myself to just lay here and waste my time?" Arthur groaned and heaved himself off the lumpy bed. Slowly, his eyes met with a bookshelf. It felt terribly intriguing, but he had an urge to grab a book and just force himself to read, because what else would he do? Just wait until that scumbag of a father shows up so he can satisfy himself with the knowledge he still has someone who's willing to actually wait for him? No, that would be too easy, of course, Arthur would make it that much more difficult for the old man. Plus, everyone always said you need to return the favor when someone does for you.
Exasperated, he picked a book at random, flipping it to the last page.
Suddenly, the wind shook violently, the pages flew in all directions, and a flames rose at the tips of the pages. Sweat glazed the young boy's face as he read faster and faster through every word, somehow not able to fathom how when the crimson flames would lay smoldering for moments at a time on the wooden floors would cool to an icy sapphire with enough focus. The young boy's hands still somehow untouched and unharmed by the rapid change in elements, and as he ripped through more pages of what was still in-tact with the spin of the book, his determination boiled and simmered, as if he were ready to burst.
Then, click, just like that, everything was dark again. The boy stood, his hands trying to desperately search for the book he had spent so much precious time looking for. He scoured every piece of information regarding the valuable book, he interrogated every known person rumored to have read it at one point, and he worked so long for it. Now, it was gone, far beyond his fingertips, far past his vision and imagination. It was vital for his life to go on, the boy thought, it was everything to live for.
Wasn't it? No, this was not what he was looking for; he wanted nothing to do with such an illusion. The boy's head tilted to the side as he took a small pocket knife from his bag. The knife's tip was sharp, and gleamed in the light that was somehow looming above him. Still, the boy did not raise his head to gaze and gander at the warm and refreshing light, instead, he gripped the handle tightly, still fumbling with it around in his hand. His body felt tired as he wearily stared at the knife's design.
This was not the happiness he thrived and yearned for.
The End
Arthur scowled, what a miserable ending. He clasped the book shut, shoving it back in-between the other rough, worn-down books. That book was utter trash, how could someone so callous write such a merciless ending? The main character was probably a fool by all means anyway. Not the Arthur actually cared. No, he wasn't concerned at all about the main character, what did he lose so important to him that he went so far out of his far to get it back? It was probably fruitless.
Arthur stared at the spin of the book, the title reading, "The Crack." Of course, it wouldn't make any difference as to what the beginning was if he already knew the ending. It wouldn't have a happy ending either way, still, curiosity was nagging at him to pick up the book again.
"No." Arthur thought sternly. He had enough will power to put down a book as much as he did when picking another one up and forgetting the last. The book was boring anyway, the main character was a fool, and the title was cheesy as it was anyway. "Yes, even without a book, I can wait at least a few hours without such entertainment. Some quiet would do me some good, too."
At least, that was what he thought.
A:N/ I am going to write an ending for this story no matter what! :D So, yes, tell me what you think and I'll keep writing!