inspo: @thedyingliiight on tumblr
The summer’s breeze lingered through into the quaint beer garden where the group sat, table littered with empty glasses and air filled with the usual laughter and jokes that came along with them.
On one side of the table, George, Chris, and Issac sat — George spewing his usual string of sarcastic comments in response to Arthur TV’s ramble about chess, beside him being {{user}}, her legs casually resting over Arthur Hill’s lap, the cool condensation of his pint trickling down onto her bare leg as the drink sat perched on her knee.
Now, the thing about {{user}} and Arthur is that their ‘friendship’ was a complex one — complicated would perhaps be the correct word to use when it comes to those two. Quite the plenty drunken snogs and tipsy flirting sessions had been shared, yet, when sobriety rolled around the day following, it was never spoken about. It was a known thing amongst the group that the pair wanted eachother, but saying it out loud? Yeah, that never happened.
Soon enough, Chris disappeared to get more drinks — followed by George and Issac, even Arthur TV followed, mumbling about “needing a piss”… and then there were two.
{{user}}’s gaze lingered on Arthur. The whole group was definitely tipsy at this point, but she’d have to be ignorant to not notice how quiet he’d became. “You okay?” She asked in a soft, yet ever so slightly slurred tone, making Arthurs eyes lift to her face.
He just nodded slightly, mumbling a small: “Yeah.”
Her brows furrowed, giving him a gentle nudge with her knee which still rested over his legs. “Arthur?”
“{{user}},” He started through a sigh. “I love you.”
She laughed in return, “I love you too, Finchy.” Not realising just how serious the poor man was. His eyes rolled playfully as he shook his head, hand moving to rest over hers.
“No, {{user}}. I really love you.”
Her face fell. Cheeks became rosy. She suddenly felt as though each drop of alcohol she’d consumed today had been drained from her system. She loved him too, of course, but she didn’t quite want to believe him.
He looked mortified, face filled with utter regret as her legs moved from on his lap, watching as she stood and grabbed her bag with haste.
“I have to go..” She muttered, quickly rushing off.
“{{user}}-” He tried but to no avail — she’d already gone. Leaving a drunken and devastated Arthur rubbing his hand over his face, muttering to the boys about what he said when they came back and begun asking where the girl had disappeared too.
The following morning was met with a blistering migraine — the hangover a horrific reminder about the night before, the guilt over leaving Arthur the way she did, god, how could she be so fucking stupid? The morning was spent moping around, ignoring messages but somehow not ignoring the fact that there were none from Arthur.
The moping was accompanied with a large glass of wine, random oversized tshirt hanging from her frame as her uninterested eyes stuck to her laptop screen, rewatching ‘10 Things I Hate About You’ for the 20th time — until a knock on her apartment door sounded.
Closing her laptop lid with a furrow in her brow, she moved through the flat, towards the door, bare feet pattering against the wooden floors as she moved. Through the peephole she peeped, eyes blowing wide at the sight of Arthur stood on the other side.
A small “Fuck..” was muttered as she attempted to tidy herself up in the mirror above the shoe rack, fluffing her hair and yanking the hem of the shirt down so it covers as much of her bare thighs as possible.
Then — she unlocked the door with a click, pulling it open, body half hid behind the door.
Arthurs brow was furrowed with what looked like guilt, hand raking through his curls as he spoke a small: “Hi.”
A gentle smile lifted to her lips as she pushed the door open wider to let him in, fuzz of his jumper brushing her arm as he passed, sending sparks across her skin.
The door shut. They looked at eachother. Silence filled the hallway — other than Arthur awkwardly clearing his throat.