"Monday Monday…" Helga murmured along to the radio. "So good to me."

She swept about the kitchen, dumping a few empties into the recycling bin under the sink and wiping off the counter while waiting for the kettle to boil. She considered making herself toast, but the thought of having food so early made her stomach roil.

Her lack of breakfast was a sore point with Arnold, who constantly repeated the most important meal of the day mantra to her in the mornings…

… speaking of which, where was Arnold?

He was normally up well before her, busy being productive while she snored into her pillow, but she hadn't heard a peep from him this morning. The guys had still been there when Helga had gone to bed the night before, playing Xbox in the lounge, so it was possible Arnold was sleeping in after a big night… but it wasn't like him to stay up too late on a school night.

She made her way down to his room.

"Hey, Arnold?" She called softly, tapping gently at his door in case he was sick or something.

"Yeah… come in."

Whoop, that doesn't sound good. It didn't look that great, either. He was lying in the dark, the curtains drawn, staring up at the ceiling with his hands behind his head.

"Hey… uh…" Helga faltered. This scene was so… alien… she wasn't quite sure what to say. "You OK?"

He shrugged, his eyes still gazing into nothing. "Sure."

She shuffled. "Um… you want a coffee or something?"

He paused for a second, then shrugged again. "No thanks."

She frowned. There was definitely something wrong. His voice was soft, even for him. He sounded distracted. "You sick or something?" She asked, confusion making her voice sharper than she meant it to. She grimaced.

He sighed, heavily, finally turning his head to look at her. "No… I'm not sick… I'm… I'm just taking a day off. I just wanna be, uh, by myself today."

She stared, a strange feeling of déjà vu tickling the back of her memory. "What's wrong?" She choked eventually, distracted by the thought that she should already know what was up.

But he just moved to stare back up at the ceiling. "Nothing. I'm OK Eleanor."

"O-OK." She shut the door behind her on her way out, totally confused. She had the oddest feeling in her stomach.

He's probably just having an off day. She tried to rationalise Arnold's highly out-of-character behaviour. She had bad days all the time, when she just felt like punching things. She often took to bed with a book and shut out the world… it was therapeutic, it was nothing to worry about…

… but Arnold doing it? It worried her.

She got ready slowly, distracted. By the time she tugged on her chucks and made her way out the door, she was already ten minutes late. She tried to hurry, but she couldn't shake the niggling at the back of her mind. She scuffed her feet through fallen autumn leaves as she puzzled.

She'd known Arnold her whole life, and she'd only seen him down like that a handful of times, usually after being dumped by some girl. There was the time Lila Sawyer had told him she didn't like him like him when they were nine. There was also the time in 8th grade when Jenny Baker had broken up with him on the bus in front of everyone. And once Helga had stumbled out of a movie at 11pm to find him sitting alone in the foyer looking miserable after Katie Jacobsen had broken it off so she didn't have to sit through a Star Wars marathon…

She shook her head… for a great guy, he had a pretty lame track record when it came to the ladies.

But then, he'd also looked like he was about to cry that time Bob had called him an orphan boy at Parents…

"That's it!"

She smacked herself on the forehead, amazed she'd been so stupid. She turned on her heel and started back towards the house, trotting as fast as she could without actually running.

Of course it was his parents, she remembered now. It was early October when his folks had flown off on that last voyage. She cringed to think about it, poor Arnold, not knowing what happened, left to wonder if they were alive or dead…

She was home in minutes, dumping her bag on the floor as she hurriedly shut the door behind her. She slowed down before she got to Arnold's room, padding quietly down the hallway before knocking. "Football Head?"

"Yeah?" His forehead creased in a frown as he watched her creep into the room. "Is everything OK?"

She shook her head.

His eyes widened, he struggled up to lean on his elbows, concern written across his face. "What's wrong? What happened?"

She tiptoed up and sat gingerly on the edge of his bed. "Nothing… just feel like having a day off."

He blinked, staring up at her for what seemed like minutes before he slumped back onto the bed, a picture of glum resignation. "Suit yourself."

She flicked her shoes off, pulling her knees up to curl up on top of Arnold's covers, facing him. She watched him inhale, his ribs showing through his sheet as he held his breath. Eventually he sighed. "You know, don't you?"

Ouch. "Oh Shorty." She shuffled up to him, laying her arm over his chest as she watched him gaze blankly upwards.

He let his breath out in a huff, an irritated kind of noise. "C'mere." He growled. He yanked at his sheets, tugging them out from underneath her, moving her around until she was tucked up against him, her head on his chest, his arm around her shoulders. "Now shush."

So she shushed…

Light seeped into through the curtains as the morning wore on outside. They listened to Dyna's cats meowing, and footsteps echoing from upstairs as their landlord went about her day. Helga yawned, vaguely wondering what she would miss in class, but not really caring. She snuggled closer, conscious of Arnold's state of near-nakedness, but not really caring about that, either.

He smelled good, decidedly masculine, like skin and sweat and cotton. She was still sometimes surprised at how he'd grown up… some part of her still saw him as a nine year old kid, with bandy little sticks for legs and white, almost translucent skin. Now he had a smattering of chest hair and stubble on his chin.

"What happened with you and Matt?" He asked suddenly, jerking her from her train of thought.

She must have been drifting off, her eyelids heavy as she tried to open them. She grumbled, drowsily. "He dumped me." What a weird thing to bring up. "Why?"

She felt him shrug. "I dunno… you never told me what happened, like… why he broke up with you." He brushed the backs of his fingers down her arm. "I figure it's a fair question… what with you invading my scheduled day of mourning and all."

She felt herself smile at that, her eyes were closed again, her cheek pressed up against his skin. This is nice. It was comfy, warm. She was so close to falling asleep, despite her jeans button pressing uncomfortably into her stomach. "He broke out the L word… I didn't say it back… sadness ensued." She said simply.

"Oh… so it wasn't because you spent the holidays with me then?"

She shrugged, not really wanting to have this conversation, but putting up with it anyways… anything to distract him from his parents, she supposed. "Not really… I mean, that's what brought it up…" She grimaced, she still felt bad about the whole thing. "He tried to be understanding… but he wanted to know if, um, we were going anywhere… and I just couldn't see myself… uh… I dunno…"

She sighed, heavily, screwing her eyes shut. "He said he… loved me… and asked how I felt. I had to tell him that I couldn't see it happening… it really sucked." She finished blandly.

"Ah Pacman, I'm sorry." He curled his fingers around the bottom of her ribs, squeezing her in commiseration.

Hmmmm, warm. She dreamily wondered how his long fingers would feel against her skin, stroking upwards to cup… Whoa. She tensed her thighs as her body reacted to his touch. That's not good. Keeping her eyes closed, she forced herself to relax. It's been way too long since I've been with someone, that's all. She rationalised to herself, trying to slow her hitched pulse.

She fought the instinct to push away, to lash out like how she always did when she freaked herself out. You're just sex deprived. She scowled. Calm down… Arnold has no idea that you were just considering… she cut herself short. No need to think about that.

She scrambled around in her head for someone to distract herself with. "You remember when we met in Mighty Pete that time?"

"Hmmmm." He mumbled. "How could I forget?"

"Do you still have my sweatshirt?"

He chuckled. "I do, actually… I've even worn it once or twice."

"Why were you there?" She rushed. "You didn't even have a jacket."

He squeezed her again, making her cringe, before he sighed. "I just had a bad day, Grandma was being particularly crazy…" He stilled for a second. "I know I don't really have any right to complain… my grandparents are so good to me… but sometimes I just… I just had to get out of that house, you know?" He chuckled again. "I felt like such a tool when you left."

"Sorry." She murmured.

"I know that I've had it pretty good… I've been fed and clothed and everything… and they did their best… but I just miss my parents sometimes… and I worry about them." His voice was hushed, distant.

"You think maybe they're still…" Helga trailed off, all thoughts of desire thankfully forgotten.

"Alive? I dunno… I hope so. But then, they were legitimate explorers. They'd have returned by now if they were. I suppose their plane went down, or they were injured or something." He shrugged. "I just get… get scared that they suffered." She felt him tense up, the muscles in his arm flexing against her back.

She shuddered. Crashing in the Central American jungle. There were a million different ways to die… What an awful thought… what a horrible fear to harbour… "Arnold…" she started, her heart cramping with sympathy.

"Don't… please…" He sighed, his voice weirdly choked. His arm tightened around her, pulling her harder against him.

So she shushed again. Good going, Pataki. She berated herself. So much for distracting him from his parents… now he's probably imagining them in all sorts of horrific circumstances. She sighed, miserable.

"Ah fuck." He grumbled. "Get up."

She started. What the hell? "Uh…"

He pulled his arm from under her head, pushed himself upright. "You make it really hard to mope, you know." He shook his head. "We're getting up."

OK, this was a sudden, but not necessarily bad turn of events. "Wait, we aren't going to class, are we?"

He laughed, turning away from her to put his feet on the floor and stand up. "No…" The sheet fell away to expose him, naked except for his boxer shorts, the fine hair at the small of his back making his skin look soft, the muscles at his sides shifting under his skin as he moved…

Man, he's hot. Her traitorous brain crooned at her before she could silence it.

Traitor Brain wasn't wrong, though. Dammit, Arnold, why do you have to be so sexy, just when I'm all sex deprived? She sighed. Although, by that logic, she was probably only finding him sexy because she was so horny. Yeah, that was it… crisis averted.

She still must have just been staring like an idiot at his long legs and wiry shoulders though, because he laughed at her again, shaking his head. "… We're going to make bacon pancakes and watch Freaks and Geeks from start to finish."

"Bacon pancakes!" Helga crowed, forcing herself to at least try and act like she wasn't a sex-crazed lunatic. "Makin' bacon pancakes!"

He grinned. "Thought you'd like that…" He pulled a pair of trackpants on over his boxers as she kicked her way out of his sheets.

"Hey Shorty?" She asked, bending over to pick up her shoes. "Why's it hard to mope round me?"

He shrugged, "Dunno…" before he flicked a sock at her. "Maybe you make me happy."