LANCASTER AND MAXWELL ( ✔ )

chapter ten.

Chapter Ten.

FOR the next couple of weeks, Sullivan and Arthur get closer and closer, back to the way they used to be — of course, there are no objections from either party when it comes to the matter. The simple fact of their way of life is this: certain people fit into certain roles, and Sullivan's is at the left-hand side of Arthur at all times. It doesn't really matter the circumstances or the place or the time or even the universe that they're in, they will always find their way back towards each other.

As far as the concern of Arthur's bruise goes, the problem is dropped within a few days; though, not from lack of trying. Sullivan can count on both hands the amount of times he's grabbed Arthur's chin and examined the injury himself with a wary and analytical stare, but it's easily shaken off with a loose chuckle from his counterpart and an assuring and mocking, "I ain't gonna tell you again. I'm fine, Ma. Now eat your lunch, or else it's gonna go cold." 

He's never been good when it comes to denying Arthur, anyways.

So the matter is dropped without another word, they regroup and begin to hang out with each other again. It kinda starts off like this: in the morning, Arthur will greet him in the parking lot and asks Sullivan if he can get away from Judge Judas for a few hours to seek out an "undeniably" fun time. Unjustifiably, Sullivan will pretend as if he can't, but he ends up doing it anyways because he'll never find a good reason not to go. As a result, afternoons are spent with the brunette waiting for Arthur to get out of football practice and them going on some adventure together. Whether it's going into the city to go on the hunt for the greatest milkshake of all time or to search for the Disney Hercules soundtrack on vinyl, it's never a dull moment between the two. 

Even during allergy season. 

"Achoo!" 

"Bless you, for the millionth time in the past five minutes." Arthur can't help but to let out a laugh at his sickly friend, his shoulders shaking with amusement. Sullivan doesn't think it's very funny.

The brunette attempts to give his friend a menacing glare, but his eyes are squinted through his glasses, and his nose is red and stuffy so he ends up looking more pitiful than intimidating. Back when he was just a pile of skin and bones, Sullivan suffered basically year-round from allergies that made his rib cages rattle every time he coughed. Now? Well, things haven't changed all that much, if he's being honest, besides the fact he weighs more than a hundred pounds wet. 

Sullivan just casts a glance over to his friend and pushes the thick-rimmed brown glasses back on the bridge of his nose, shutting his locker. "Shut up, Artie," he speaks, his voice nasally. "The month of April is basically the month that I get a little preview of death." 

"Is that even possible?" The blonde questions with a raised eyebrow. 

"I'm still standing here, ain't I?" His question is answered when Arthur wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls him towards the side of his torso, his hand moving up to ruffle his already tousled mop of curls as they walk down the hallway.

Arthur says, "You're such a smart-ass." He ignores Sullivan's watch your language and continues to speak. "I'm surprised you even want to talk all that shit, considering you've sounded like Traci Van Horn for the past two weeks." 

It takes all Sully has not to laugh and hack up one of his lungs. "Please refrain from making allusions towards Hannah Montana while I'm in such a state of pain." 

"Ah shit, who's talking about Hannah Montana without me?" The voice belongs to Teddy who is eating a bowl of Ramen and is accompanied by the rest of the knights behind him, joining their leader on his quest to third period. "She was so hot."