-- 1st person POV --
I stay at the hospital all night with Arthur, not wanting to leave him.
Several times he tells me there's no need to stay but I insist, wanting to be there to support him through this ordeal.
He and his mom are so very close. They're like the centre of each other's little word so I know the whole situation is really taking it out of him.
As dawn begins to break the nursing staff finally manage to persuade Arthur to go home to rest, as Penny's condition is stable and they promise to call him at the first sign of any change.
As we step out into the grim early morning light I shiver and he immediately notices.
"You cold? Here...."
I shake my head and try to protest as he shrugs out of his tatty old coat. "It's fine, Arthur. There's really no need."
"It's clean I promise." He says earnestly, holding it out for me to take.
"I believe you." I giggle. "But you need it--"
"No please (y/n), just take it. I insist."
He drapes the coat around me and I thank him. It's still warm from the heat of his body and I pull it tighter around me.
It smells of him.
Slightly smoky with a faint hint of soap and the spicy zing of his cologne. I inhale deeply. Wanting to breath the scent of him in and hold it in my memory forever.
Wow. I've got it pretty bad, I realise, which is bound to just complicate things further.
"Are you hungry?" He asks suddenly, shattering my thoughts. "We could get breakfast?"
I'm beyond tired after being awake all night but I don't care about getting any sleep. In fact I'm elated by Arthur's offer.
Although his initial frostiness towards me thawed a little he's still been a bit quiet and distant with me, but I've been hoping that's more due to him worrying over Penny than still being mad.
"Breakfast sounds great." I smile up at him as we make our way along the garbage littered street. "What do you have in mind?"
"Well I, uh, don't have much money to buy food but I could fix you something to eat at my place."
Oh. He's inviting me to the apartment which could be awkward. I've never been there alone with him and if my mom finds out she'll completely flip out.
But that adorable little puppy face of his makes my heart melt and I wish he wouldn't give me those looks. They destroy me.
How can I say no to that face?
"Sure." I shrug.
For the first time since yesterday evening he gives a faint smile and says. "O-okay then."
We walk to the station in semi-comfortable silence and fight our way through the throngs of commuters heading to work.
The subway is stuffy and uncomfortable as usual, then the walk to Arthur's place is gruelling thanks to those dreaded stairs, so by the time we eventually arrive at the apartment I'm grateful to be able to collapse on Arthur's worn but undeniably comfy couch.
His building is run-down, his home a little shabby but not dirty. It's comfortable and always warm which is a bonus.
He makes us both a much-needed decent cup of coffee. It's cheap but tastes so much better than what they sell at the hospital. Then he sets about raiding the cupboards, hunting for something edible.
"Um, I got cereal and bread..." He calls out from the kitchen.
I hear him opening the refrigerator door.
"...oh there's eggs too. Do you like toast and eggs?"
I get up and make my way to him. "Yeah that's great. Whatever's easiest. I'll have what you're having."
I hope my last comment prompts him to eat. He's so thin because he rarely eats, surviving on nicotine, caffeine and just the barest amount of food.
I feel guilty for taking food from him but I make a mental note to leave him some money before I leave.
He's staring into the open fridge, clutching a box of eggs when I see inspiration strike in his eyes.
"Uh, how 'bout French toast?"
I smile. "Perfect."
Arthur smiles again and this time it's a genuine, heart-warming smile which softens the contours of his handsome face. I blink, feeling like the room has suddenly become brighter, as if actual rays of sunshine are streaming in, playing lovingly on the high arches of his cheekbones.
Stop it, I inwardly shout at myself. I shouldn't be having romantic daydreams about this older man. He doesn't look at me in that way and my mom would never approve.
Efficiently he sets about making our breakfast. The comforting background babble of the radio completes the cosy domestic scene as I sit at the small table and watch him at work.
He sets the cutlery on the table and grabs a bottle of maple syrup, then sits down facing me.
"Thank you Arthur. This smells amazing."
"That's just 'cause you're hungry. It's nothing special."
Oh if only he knew. Knew that this is the best meal of my life because we're sitting here together companionably and it's all very intimate and sweet.
"How's things down at the hospice?" He asks once we begin eating.
"Fine." I say with some effort as I chew. "We're holding a fundraiser on the weekend. Mike has really gone all out on the promoting this time, so we're hoping it pays off."
His gaze remains cast down as he pushes the food around his plate. "Right. That's good." He spears a piece of toast with his fork rather forcefully. "And how are things with the two of you?"
I frown a little in confusion. "Sorry? The two of who?"
"You and Michael." He says the name mockingly and gives a sneer which shocks me.
"There is no us. We're just friends that's all."
"He likes you."
"Yeah as a friend."
"Aw come on (y/n) he makes it pretty obvious that he likes you more than that."
My eyebrows shoot up, along with the pitch of my voice. "He does not! What would make you think that?"
He shrugs his narrow shoulders as he takes another bite. "You're the only one who can call him Mike. To everybody else he's Michael."
Amused, I let out a giggle. "That means nothing--"
"And he's always touching you. He does it a lot. On the shoulders, on the arms...." He persists.
"You're very observant Arthur." I tell him.
His face colours a little, which seems peculiar. Arthur's timid and shy but I've never actually seen him blush. I'm usually the one blushing around him.
"I notice stuff, yeah." He says defensively. "Just 'cause I don't talk much doesn't mean I don't listen and pay attention."
Perplexed, I take a sip of my coffee and decide to change the subject. "How are things with you anyway? I mean, other than..."
He nods, getting my meaning. "Okay I guess."
"Good. How's work?"
Having eaten his full he sets his knife and fork down and reaches for his crumpled pack of cigarettes.
"I lost my job."
My heart sinks. "Oh no. Why? What happened?"
Arthur lights up a cigarette and plays idly with the fraying cuff on his cardigan. "They didn't think I was funny enough. Imagine that?"
"Really? No way! But I love Carnival. Shit, I'm so sorry Arthur."
His head snaps up and his eyes latch onto mine, staring at me with unsettling focus. "You love Carnival?"
Ah. I swallow hard, feeling a hot blush stain my cheeks. That was a bad choice of words. Carnival is him. I'm hoping he understands that I mean his clown persona, the character. It doesn't mean I'm literally in love with Arthur. Then again I doubt he would suspect that.
"Of course, who doesn't?" I chirp, forcing a smile. "It's a great act."
"Right." He averts his gaze again and takes a long drag on his cigarette. "The lovable clown."
I can't help noticing he sounds sad now, and if I'm not mistaken even a bit disappointed.
"What are you going to do now? I know you loved that job."
"We've got moms' state pension, it's not much but it'll get us by while I'm looking for work." He says leadenly.
Without stopping to think I reach across and place my hand on his, which seems to take him by surprise. "I can help out if you'll let me? With utilities and....and Penny's medical bills."
He's been staring at my hand but now he looks at me, shaking his head. "Thanks but I can't take your money (y/n)"
"Why not? Arthur there's no shame in it."
"I appreciate the offer really, but I can take care of things. I always have."
A thought springs to my mind and I can't resist grinning like an idiot. Pleased with my own idea. "What if you help out at the fundraiser this weekend? The sponsors will pay you for it."
"I thought it was a voluntary thing?"
"Not the entertainers. You're kidding right? They don't do it for nothing. The great Raymondo's fees go up every time and you know how much his magic tricks suck."
Arthur chuckles at the memory of the terrible magician. "What would you want me to do? My standup act?"
"If you want. Or you could come as Carnival." I suggest.
Arthur has really beautiful eyes and they settle on my face again, the intensity of his gaze heats and burns my insides.
"You love Carnival, right? That's what you said. So I'll come as Carnival."
A loaded silence ensues, and there's a lot of this deep-staring going on. It makes my head spin and my throat constrict. My palms grow sweaty and I swear my pulse is racing faster than what's humanly possible.
"T-that's great! I'll let Mike know and he can speak to the event organisers and--"
"Oh so you have to get together to talk it over with 'Mike'?" The sharp edge returns to his usually soft tone and he makes quote marks in the air as he says my fellow volunteers' name. "I didn't realise he was in charge of everything. Is he the boss of you?"
What is wrong with him? He seems to have a real problem with Mike.
"Arthur, he needs to know so he can add your name to the event planner. Please don't be like this. I'm only trying to help."
He stands up from the table abruptly, the back of his legs knocking his chair over with a clatter. "Why do you want to help? You haven't been around for months!"
I stare open-mouthed as he picks the chair up then stalks out of the room angrily.
Standing up, I follow him back into the living room. I can't believe we've come back to this. His grudge is making him behave all unreasonably. It must be because he's so tired. Yes that's probably it. My poor Arthur. No doubt he's emotionally and physically exhausted.
"I thought we were okay?"
He turns away from me and talking to his back is no easier than talking to his face. But I have to fix this. I need to fix our fragile friendship and fix it fast.
"I never stopped coming over because I wanted to. I...I had to."
He turns slightly, his one visible eye narrowing as he looks at me over his shoulder. "Why did you have to?"
Oh god. I'm so tempted to just tell him the truth before my secret eats me alive.
But I can't form the words.
"There's been...so much going on. With volunteering down at the hospice, working and school...my grades were suffering and....my mom told me I had to focus harder on my studies. I'm sorry."
Slowly he turns to face me fully, his expression visibly softening. "Shit. Sorry (y/n) I had no idea. I didn't know you had a job to hold down too."
I nod feebly. "I work part-time at a coffee shop in Gotham Plaza."
"Man, you've got so much to juggle. You're going to wear yourself out."
Now he's approaching me, looking at me all apologetically, face filled with concern.
"I shouldn't have given you such a hard time. I'm a fucking jerk. Sorry. Honestly, I was worried you stopped coming by because of me."
His words drive the blood from my skin, making my face grow pale. "Y-you? Why?" I croak.
He kicks at the threadbare rug with the toe of his shoe, his hands plunged deep in his pockets. "I don't know. It just felt like you were avoiding me I guess." Nervously he meets my eyes. "I figured you mustn't like me or something."
Oh god. He has absolutely no idea how wrong he is.
"Of course I like you Arthur. I like you a lot."
Staring at me hard, he closes the distance between us and my heart begins to palpitate wildly.
"Are you okay (y/n)? You look really pale. Did I...did I upset you?"
"No, not at all. I'm fine...just tired that's all."
"Well you can go lay down in the bedroom if you want to. You should get some rest."
Shakily I turn and sink down onto the couch, shaking my head. "Thanks but I'll be fine here. You should try to get some sleep too."
To my dread and delight he takes a seat beside me.
"I usually sleep on the couch."
"Oh. Sorry. I can sit in the chair then."
As I make a move to stand up he suddenly catches me by the arm and gently tugs me back down.
"Don't be silly it's comfier here. I can take the chair."
I shake my head. "Why don't you go to bed. I'm fine in here. I'll wake you if the hospital calls."
Arthur leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and sighs heavily. "I......I don't want to be alone."
That is a brave thing for him to admit and if he keeps looking at me like this, and saying things like that, I fear I might just say or do something which I'll regret later.
Like tell him how I feel, or hug him. I long to reach out and just...touch him. To feel him close and find some comfort in him, to hold him and somehow make everything alright.
But I can't. I know I'm incapable of making everything right again, all I can do is sit blinking away tears as he sniffs loudly and hastily wipes his face on the back of his sleeve.
"You're not alone Arthur. I'm right here. I'll stay with you."
His watery eyes stare at me hopefully. "You will?"
And suddenly I no longer give a damn about restraining myself. So I breach the physical boundary and rub my hand across his back tenderly.
"I promise I'm not going anywhere."
At first his shoulders tense, caught off guard by my affectionate touch. But then he relaxes and seems to liquefy. Melting into my caress and turning soft as butter.
"(y/n), you're so kind to me. I don't deserve it."
"Yes you do. You're the sweetest guy I know."
He laughs then grimaces and it's without humour. "You mustn't know many guys if that's what you think."
He runs a hand through his hair, then scrubs his hand down over his face. He looks so tired and troubled. As if he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
"Will you hold me?" He asks softly, and the velvety texture of his voice makes all my nerve-endings tingle.
I respond without words. Instead I simply pull him back into a hug and he caves against me, pressing his face into my neck.
"Thank you." He says, his voice muffled against my skin.
I can hardly breath. Too afraid of ruining this perfect moment.
"You really don't have to thank me." I say in a small voice. "That's what friends are for."
He groans and holds me tighter, his head resting on my shoulder and his wavy chocolate-coloured hair tickling my nose.
We sit like this until Arthur drifts off to sleep, then I carefully rest my cheek on the top of his head and close my eyes, wrapped in this gentle embrace, listening to the soft sounds of Arthur's breathing and the loud thumping of my heart.