“Arthur…Are you certain about this?”
“God, Mum,” groaned the annoyed voice of a certain bushy-browed Brit. “Why are you so worried about this? What’s the worst that could happen?” Slipping a clean shirt over his head, he feverishly felt around for his specially darkened shades, somewhere on his desk. Finally feeling the cool plastic, he quickly snatched them up and covered those so very sensitive orbs.
“Well, let’s see,” His mother said monotonously. “You could fall and hurt yourself, you could get lost, you could be jumped and beaten, not to mention-”
“Always on the positive, aren’t you Ma?” He muttered, mostly to himself. But seriously, as pessimistic as he was, even Arthur himself was sure that he could survive at least one day of public high school.
Yep; as a form of ‘freedom’ from his so called ‘self-isolation,’ a local therapist suggested attending his senior year at a ‘normal’ high school, in which he could make ‘normal’ friends. Not really sure what you could define as normal, Arthur assumed he meant people that wasn’t his mom or his tutor.
At first, he was a bit reluctant. He hadn’t been to ‘normal’ school since he was a kid, since before all this crap had started. But as he thought about, he realized he hadn’t even done anything even remotely social in the past seven to eight years. Fearing of growing old and dying alone, he agreed fully.
Now if his mom would just feel the same way…
"I just want you to be safe, Artie,” She said softly.
Ever since the incident, his mom always treated him as if he was made of glass. Destined to break and shatter at a second’s notice, not even knowing what had led him to his situation. “Oh, Arthur can’t today,” she would tell the few friends he had somehow managed to make over the years. “He’s having trouble with his ‘special’ problem.”
Yeah. Thanks, mom. Way to make him feel like a winner.
Though he appreciated her concern, he felt like it was a little over the top.
He could put on his big boy pants and handle this.
He careful made his way to the doorway, and held up his hand for her.
She tapped twice, their special way of saying, “Are you okay?”
He tapped once in response: “I’m okay.”
She let out a sigh, before slowly saying, “Alright, alright. Don’t forget to call me at lunch.”
His face lit up in a grin, as he quickly gave her a peck on what he hoped was her cheek.
Rushing down the stairs, he heard her call “Be nice to Alfred! I don’t need Matthew calling me about another “near concussion caused by Arthur’s cane!”
“He asked for it!”
-----------------if you look under your chair, you'll see you got a time skip! You get a time skip! And you get time skip, And you get time skips!------------------------
“Dude, are you sure you don’t need a hand?”
“I’m fine.” Arthur snapped at his half-brother. If it wasn’t his mom, it was someone else freaking out over him. “I may not be able to see, but I am perfectly capable of walking, thank you very much.”
“Geez, calm your tits bro,” replied Alfred. Arthur listened closely to the strong falling of his footsteps, trying to keep himself on the correct path. “I just thought you’d like to know that you’re heading for the courtyard, when we are supposed to be in the main hall.”
He stiffened, turning back. Of course. Just the way to start school; embarrassing yourself in front of the loudest kid you have ever or will ever met.
“Where are you,” he grumbled, reaching out in front of himself. Damn wanker, he had been there a second ago…
Feeling the fabric under his fingers, he grabbed a hold of his shirt. “Alfred?” He asked, giving it a slight tug.
“No, it’s Matthew,” answered a quiet voice.
“S’okay. People make the same mistake all the time.”
Solemnly, as if it they were at a funeral, the three of them made their way into the gates of hell.
Also known as public high school.
As soon as Arthur crossed that barrier, he knew he had just entered a very, very, very scary place.
You know how people say your senses supposedly heighten after you lose one? It was in that exact moment he realized how true that statement to be.
The sound was almost unbearable. There was so much pointless banter; whooping, hollering, gossip, all rolled into one. Teacher’s shouted for them to quiet, but it only made the sound increase tenfold. The halls reeked of a sickly mixture of Axe, Old Spice, Chanel and B.O. The bitter scent of coffee floated through the air, perhaps lunch already potent in the atmosphere.
Arthur clung to Matthew as if he was everything he had.
“YO’ ALFIE! WHO BE THE FRESH MEAT?”
“Brother!” ‘Alfie’ called back. “Can’t pick on him, guys; Mom said.”
This was met by laughter.
Arthur could practically see it in his head; a group of Neanderthals in lettermens, laughing their big stupid laughs. Whilst their slutty cheerleader girlfriends tittering awkwardly next to them. He scowled at the image, trying to channel his thought of movement to Matthew.
“What’s the matter, Al?” Came a nasally feminine voice. “Scared of your old lady?”
“Hell yeah I am. It only takes a spoon across the knuckles so many times before you start to feel terrified around a woman like her.”
“Why is he got sunglasses on? It was raining earlier, I thought.”
“Trying to be cool, I guess.”
“Emphasis on trying.”
“Hey, poser! Takes those off!”
“You look like an ass!”
“Seriously, guys,” Countered Alfred. “You need to stop.”
“Come on Alfie, we were only kidding!” said that same, irritating voice. “Here, nice to meet you. I’m Mary Sue.”
It was dead silent in the hallway. Not one person spoke, no one dared to move. ’Did I say something wrong…?’ He thought to himself.
“Fine, don’t take my hand.” She sniffed angrily. “I was just trying to be nice.”
“Oh, baby, he didn’t mean it,” Al’s voice resounded in his head. “The thing is, Arthur here is-“
At that moment came an ear-shattering, spine chilling, thought disrupting noise. Thus causing Arthur to jump, letting go of Matthew in the process.
“Shit! The bell.”
“If I’m late again, Ms. Hedervary will fry my skin in her skillet.”
“Dude, same here.”
The clashing of lockers and heavy footsteps clouded Arthur’s mind, the sound of laughter and loud conversations echoing down the hall.
He felt around blindly in front of himself, searching for one of his brothers.
“That’s just bloody great…” He muttered.
His mom was right. Who would have known that five minutes in, he’d already be in over his head.
‘Goddamn it,’ he thought, walking instinctively through the empty halls. ‘Stupid, stupid, stupid!
He wandered around for some time, very slowly he became aware of some music…
“Lights will guide you home” sang a sweet, soporific voice. It was etheral and chilling in tone, but seeming to warm his core at the same time. He paused, straining his ears to hear. “And ignite your bones.”
Oh so carefully, he followed the sound. That honeyed whisper, the beautiful playing of falling notes and the torrid feelings inside it. With each step, it grew louder and louder, the gorgeous music echoing in his ears.
“And I will try to fix you.”
‘Fix you?’ Thought Arthur,stoping. He groped the walls, finding a closed door. Cautiously, he turned the knob, taking a unsure step forward. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’
The voice was most definitely female, that much he could tell. It held a light timbre to it, her voice morphing to what seemed intense sorrow or extreme happiness. The melody was simple enough, but managed to hold him still with every word.
Suddenly, the song came to a screeching halt. The piano notes died immediately, her voice catching on the next word.
“Who the hell are you?!”
It took him a moment, but then he realized, she was talking to him.
“No, the purple elephant beside you. Yes, you!”
Sure his face was quickly turning a bright shade of scarlet, he stuttered out, “O-oh…My n-name is Arthur Kirkland.”
He felt her right in front his face, staring intently. “If you’re an Easton kid, then piss off.” She snarled at him. “I’m not taking any chances after last time. I’m going to win this year, and I’m not going to let any of you prep school kids just take that from me again.”
“What are you talking about?” He gave her a tiny shove, trying to fix his boundaries. “I’m not from...whatever you said. I go here.”
He hated when it was silent like this. He couldn’t tell if someone was mad or sad or whatever. He didn't know if someone was about to hit him or just give a friendly pat on the back. I hope everyone appreciates sight, ‘cause it makes things so damn difficult without it.’
“New kid, right?
“Still, what are you doing here?” She asked. “Everyone else is supposed to be in first period.”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
He figured she had rolled her eyes, before speaking again. “Mr. Eldenstien lets me in here before class every morning.” She replied matter-of-factly. “He says that I have the ability to become a great pianist if practice more. Your turn.” She was so snarky, in everything she said.
“Got lost,” He said, figuring on telling her the truth. “Followed the music, wound up here.”
“And the sun glasses? There’s more than 106 miles to Chicago, you know.”
“Nothing, nothing.” She said, letting out a small sigh. “Look, sorry about the whole “Piss off” thing. It’s just…last year some kids from the private school cut the chords on my guitar so I couldn’t play. We ended up having to forfeit the competetion. I’d hate to see what they do to a piano and…” She trailed off, maybe looking to him.
“It’s alright. No harm done.” Arthur said. He curiously tapped his finger against his chin, thinking carefully. “What was that song you were playing?”
“Oh, I think it’s…Fix You? Yeah, that’s it.”
He was quiet for a minute, and nodded. “What’s it about?”
She laughed lightly, pulling him over to the bench. “It kinda varies from each person. I can play it for you, and then you tell me.”
He nodded, wondering why his heart had leapt when she grabbed his hand. “Who are you?
“Names (Y/N) (L/N).”
------------------------------Hey guess what his is??------------------------------
For the next few months, Arthur spent every first period with (Y/N). She had figured out his impairment herself, after Alfred had forced him to carry his cane into school. But, instead of pitying him, she continued to treat him like an equal. For this, he was grateful.
He had asked her once if he could feel her face. Not in a really creepy way, just so he could visualize her. Though, he did supose it did seem a little weird. She finally let him, after an hour of almost begging.
His hands had ghosted over her face, feeling so very soft skin. Her lips were almost perfect,just a little chapped. Her eyes were closed, supposedly (e/c). He gently ran his fingers across her cheek bones, feeling them heat up as quickly she pushed him away.
Every day, they spent their classes talking, laughing, and just listening to each other.
And every day, he found himself tapping three times on her hand, as she was not aware of his form of communication. Those three taps meant a whole lot to him, even if she didn’t understand it at all.
I love you.