Jðkêr//Är†hµr x RêåÐêr ïmågïñê§ & ðñê-§hð†§

• Dancing In The Dark (pt.2)

It's pitch black, the darkness so dense it makes me feel like I've been swallowed whole by it. Consumed. Panic hits me like a bucket of cold water in the face, making my breathing erratic. My heart rate increases to such an extent that I can hear the blood rushing in my ears.

"It's okay." Arthur's low, honeyed voice says right next to my ear, making me shiver alarmingly. Reminding me how close I was to him before we were plunged into darkness.

Any other time I would instinctively move away, not wanting to invade his personal space. But I don't. I like the closeness. His proximity is reassuring and has a calming effect on my nerves. And whether I should or whether I shouldn't, I like it. Simple as that.

We're both sitting on the floor close to the couch. The monopoly board spread out in front of us. It's funny to think just a few seconds ago I was giggling away, not a care in the world. Now I'm gripped by anxiety, and it would more than likely squeeze me to death if it wasn't for Arthur's company.

"(y/n), I'm right here. There's nothing to worry about." He reassures me.

I nod my head, not that he can see me, and breath in slowly through my nose then exhale out my mouth. I repeat this exercise a few times, until something makes me falter. Long cool fingers find my hand, cautiously searching out my own, before curling around them protectively.

I'd been trying to steady my breathing, but as I sit in the dark in silence, my fingers interlinked with Arthur's, my breathing quickens. My heart begins thumping in my chest and I can feel it in my wrists and my throat. It's pretty cool in the room and yet my palms start to sweat, betraying a nervousness I can't understand.
Or perhaps I just don't want to understand.

"Do you...do you wanna talk? It might help keep your mind off the dark." He suggests helpfully.

"Y-yeah, sure." I croak, swallowing hard. "What d'you want to talk about?"

Arthur remains silent for a few moments while he considers potential topics. It would seem he's stumped for ideas too. For some reason my mind has gone completely blank. All I can focus on is the sensory overload.
Arthur's hand is large, his skin slightly rough, and I decide I rather like the feel of it in mine. There's something so certain and masculine about it. His grip firm but not so tight that it's uncomfortable.

And I can smell the comfortingly familiar waft of cigarettes mingled with his shaving foam, shampoo, and the cologne he uses. It's an odd combination of clean and fresh, with spicy, smoky overtones.

I don't ever recall having paid that much attention to all of these little details before, but I must have done in order to find them so familiar.
And now I'm worried. I shouldn't be noticing these things. I daren't think about what it could mean.

"What is it about the dark that scares you?" Arthur asks, finally breaking the heavy silence. "If you don't wanna talk about it you don't have to. In fact...I shouldn't have asked. S-sorry."

"No, don't be sorry Arthur." I say quickly, not wanting him to feel bad. "It just makes me feel...vulnerable. Trapped. It's like it feels as if it's...touching me, somehow. Surrounding me." I force a strained chuckle. "It's stupid I know."

"It's not stupid. It sounds awful." He gives my hand a gentle squeeze, and I swear I feel my heart melting in my chest.

"What are you afraid of?" I ask without thinking, then quickly add, "Everyone's afraid of something. Even if they say they're not. There's no shame in it."