"Abigail, you don't need to be so loud," she says quietly. Mattie is -- well, she's not always quiet, no, Arthur's seen her at hockey games and he wouldn't dare to call her quiet -- in general levelheaded. She's sensible and despite her physical similarities to Abigail, the two of them are nothing alike.
Abigail's teeth flash in her ever-present grin. "Of course I do, silly! Otherwise you wouldn't hear me! Anyway, Arthur wanted to talk to you."
"Oh, really?" Mattie and Arthur exchange glances, in which Arthur hopes he manages to sufficiently convey the fact that he hadn't actually wanted to talk to her; Mattie's eyes fill with amusement, and Arthur thinks that maybe he has managed to convey it too sufficiently.
"So," Mattie says a moment after Abigail and Felicia leave, "you came to talk to me?" She sounds amused; obviously she knows that it's not true.
"I came to tell you that that awful Beilschmidt boy is going to ask you to prom, and you should say no." Arthur is painfully aware of the fact that he's a bad liar, and Mattie knows that, too.
"I'm sure that's why you came here," she replies, smoothing her hair back with a pale hand. "I'm not going to say no. Were you going to ask Abigail to prom?"
The question takes him by surprise; Mattie is usually tactful and she tends to skirt around direct questions, preferring to guide someone toward the answer that she wants. If she asks someone like this, she must really want to know.
"Maybe," he answers, looking down. She gives him a look, and he amends, "Yes. But Felicia was there, and I didn't want to..." He's not sure how to finish the sentence, so he lets his voice trail off.
She shakes her head. "You ought to have asked her. You know how much she loves a crowd. She would have been thrilled."
He doesn't know how to explain that he doesn't want Abigail to say yes because she's expected to, because of the heat of the moment; he wants her to say yes because she wants to say yes. No regrets.
Mattie leaves, but Arthur stands a while more, listening to the laughter of girls who don't know what measures are taken for their love.
II. A week before the dance
His last chance. It's his very last chance, but he's so goddamned nervous that he's not sure if he'll ever get around to it. The only thing he can do is wait for Abigail to come to school early in the morning.
It's freezing cold, and he shivers as he sips hot chocolate from the thermos he's brought. It's a good thing his first period classroom is next to hers, because otherwise it could have been very awkward for him to have to come over. Abigail's smart in most ways, but at times she's absolutely clueless, and she would have been loud and obvious, and if she had said no......
He shivers again and waits for her.
Soon enough she comes, wearing jeans, a scarf, and a wool sweater that on anyone else would look plain tacky. It makes her looks beautiful. Her grin when she sees him can light up an entire room. "Arthur!" she calls, and the fact that she calls him by his given name gives him a jolt of warmth. "What are you doing? Why aren't you inside your classroom?" She's laughing at his misfortune, but he's not laughing, and she recognizes this. Her smile fades. "You okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine. The classroom isn't open yet, but that doesn't really matter. Abigail, I need to ask you something."
Her teacher opens the door to her classroom and her head whips around towards the tantalizing warmth. "Artie, I have to go now."
"No, Abigail, you can't --" He's desperate; she can't leave now, she can't, when else will he ask her?
But she does leave, disappears into the classroom. He watches her go and when he's sure no one else is listening, swears so well that Gilbert Beilschmidt would be proud.
I. One day before prom
Fuck it. Fuck it all.
Arthur doesn't care about his pride, doesn't care about embarrassment, doesn't care about any of it right now; if only Abigail would go to prom with him, he would give anything up.
He marches up to her at lunch; out of the corner of his eye, he sees the quiet sophomore Eirik and thinks that it's odd, because Eirik is the last person to be with Abigail, but that doesn't matter.
Without any regard for who's watching, he says, "Abigail, I've tried time and time again to ask you this, but I haven't been able to muster up the courage. Will you go to prom with me?"
It seems like the entire school's waiting with bated breath for her answer. Arthur feels like he's watching her through a slow-motion camera; her expression changes from amused to surprised to utterly crestfallen -- and suddenly he knows what she's going to say before she says it.
"I'm -- I'm sorry, Arthur, I'm really sorry," and she sounds so sad, so so sad, "but Eirik already asked me and I thought that nobody else would so I said yes, Arthur, I'm sorry!"
He laughs ruefully; of course, of course, he should have known -- he waited too long and now she's gone, of course, in life there aren't any fairy-tale endings. He turns to leave, and people are watching him with anxious eyes, waiting for a scene that he won't give them.
Like the perfect gentleman, he sweeps his bangs out of his eyes and smiles, walks away calmly like nothing's happened.
Inside he's screaming.
0. Prom Day
His green eyes are flat and dull, and though he wears a neatly pressed tuxedo he doesn't really care about what happens to it; after all, there's no reason to look good if Abigail isn't there with him. She and Eirik are sitting together and just like she always does she's laughing, laughing, and it makes him slightly sick to think that she could have been laughing for him, but she's not.
He looks away, because he's sure that even just looking at her there's jealousy written all over his face; he wouldn't even be here if he weren't the Student Council president. Junior Prom is for juniors and people invited by juniors. He's lucky he even gets to see Abigail.
He denies the sour feeling in his stomach.
During one of the dances, Eirik comes up to him, smirking. Arthur grits his teeth -- insufferable little sophomore brat -- but doesn't say anything. "How are you then, Arthur?" he says, but the look on his face says much more than that.
Arthur scowls, but he's promised himself that he'll be civil and not punch the little bastard's lights out, so he replies, "Eirik, thank you for asking. I'm absolutely wonderful. I trust Abigail is having a good time?"
Both of their smiles are plastic, but Eirik would probably win the prize for most forced. He's not used to smiling anyway, so it looks even weirder on him. "She's doing great. Really great."
They walk over to Abigail's table. She's sitting there with Gilbert and Mattie -- apparently the other girl hadn't taken Arthur's sage advice -- and looks absolutely beautiful in her white dress. Arthur swallows; coming over here hadn't been such a good idea after all. He doesn't want to look at her but he can't look away; her hair is in golden curls and she's taken off her glasses, opting instead to wear contacts. She's shining, shining so brightly he's surprised they need to keep candles at her table. He looks down; he's making a fool of himself now.
There are extra seats and he and Eirik sit down on either side of Abigail, politely trading jabs and insults. Abigail looks sweetly confused; she can hear them being polite, but there's an underlying tension between the two boys that nobody could miss. She smiles at first, and continues chattering with Mattie and Gilbert, but as it gets worse -- as the boys stop trying to be polite and instead just focus on hurting the other -- her expression changes from one of joy to one of hurt and anger. After one particularly nasty cut from Eirik, she stands up.
Arthur and Eirik glance at her; they've almost forgotten the real reason they started their little war in the first place. Abigail isn't crying, but something is sparkling in the corner of her eye. "I hate you both," she says, voice thick and rough. "God, Arthur, if you had wanted to go to prom with me you should have just asked me instead of ruining my entire night. I didn't even get to dance with my date! I wish I hadn't come to this stupid place at all."
Mattie sends both Arthur and Eirik a glare before standing up and patting her sister on the back, then accompanying her to the bathroom. Gilbert shakes his head. "Damn," he says. "You two really messed it up, didn't you?"
Neither of them answer. Finally Arthur says, "I guess I'll be leaving then. I just ruined what's supposed to be the best night of her life."
i HATE this. i don't know what the hell i did wrong... i messed up part 3... arrggghhh
Eirik looks at him straight-on. "Listen," he says seriously, and the smirk is completely gone. "You better ask her to dance at least once. I didn't ask her for asking her, I asked her because..." His sentence trails off, but he gives himself away by a quick glance to where Angelique and Francis are gliding across the dance floor.
Arthur almost laughs. That was why Eirik had asked Abigail to prom? Because he wanted to talk to Angelique? His entire prom was ruined because of that? But then he remembers what he himself has done for Abigail, and his feelings soften a little bit. He nudges Eirik's chair. "Go talk to her," he encourages. Eirik stares at him. "Go on, what are you waiting for, me to knock your teeth out?" Eirik moves, and cuts in between Francis and Angelique just as the songs ends. The latter looks surprised and flattered; Francis just looks annoyed.
He hears the scrape of a chair as Gilbert gets up. "Last dance," he says. "You gonna finally ask your girlfriend to dance, Arts?"
Arthur stands up too, and sees what Gilbert sees -- Mattie and Abigail are coming back from the bathroom. "There's only one thing I have to say to you, Beilschmidt," he replies. "If you don't treat Mattie right, you will regret it." Gilbert laughs and walks over to the two girls, taking Mattie's hand and leading her out onto the dance floor. Only Abigail and Arthur remain, staring at each other. Abigail looks away first, and makes a motion as if to leave, when Arthur steps forward and grabs her hand.
"What are you doing?" She tries to shake herself free, but Arthur's determined; this time he won't let his fear take control of him.
"Listen." His voice is firm, and she turns to face him. "I'm sorry. I made mistakes. I should have asked you before, but Abigail, I was..." He takes a deep breath. "I was afraid. But I'm not anymore. May I have this last dance with you?"
There are catcalls and he's vaguely aware of a large spotlight shining on them; Gilbert and Francis are cheering in the background and Felicia is crying and holding on to Ludwig, who looks vaguely uncomfortable but not displeased. All he can think about is what Abigail's answer is; she has to say yes, she has to say yes. Please...
Are those tears in her eyes? He hopes not; but when she launches herself at him both laughing and crying at the same time, hugging him and babbling something incoherent about finally and waiting, he doesn't think it really matters.
Abigail's teeth flash in her ever-present grin. "Of course I do, silly! Otherwise you wouldn't hear me! Anyway, Arthur wanted to talk to you."
"Oh, really?" Mattie and Arthur exchange glances, in which Arthur hopes he manages to sufficiently convey the fact that he hadn't actually wanted to talk to her; Mattie's eyes fill with amusement, and Arthur thinks that maybe he has managed to convey it too sufficiently.
"So," Mattie says a moment after Abigail and Felicia leave, "you came to talk to me?" She sounds amused; obviously she knows that it's not true.
"I came to tell you that that awful Beilschmidt boy is going to ask you to prom, and you should say no." Arthur is painfully aware of the fact that he's a bad liar, and Mattie knows that, too.
"I'm sure that's why you came here," she replies, smoothing her hair back with a pale hand. "I'm not going to say no. Were you going to ask Abigail to prom?"
The question takes him by surprise; Mattie is usually tactful and she tends to skirt around direct questions, preferring to guide someone toward the answer that she wants. If she asks someone like this, she must really want to know.
"Maybe," he answers, looking down. She gives him a look, and he amends, "Yes. But Felicia was there, and I didn't want to..." He's not sure how to finish the sentence, so he lets his voice trail off.
She shakes her head. "You ought to have asked her. You know how much she loves a crowd. She would have been thrilled."
He doesn't know how to explain that he doesn't want Abigail to say yes because she's expected to, because of the heat of the moment; he wants her to say yes because she wants to say yes. No regrets.
Mattie leaves, but Arthur stands a while more, listening to the laughter of girls who don't know what measures are taken for their love.
II. A week before the dance
His last chance. It's his very last chance, but he's so goddamned nervous that he's not sure if he'll ever get around to it. The only thing he can do is wait for Abigail to come to school early in the morning.
It's freezing cold, and he shivers as he sips hot chocolate from the thermos he's brought. It's a good thing his first period classroom is next to hers, because otherwise it could have been very awkward for him to have to come over. Abigail's smart in most ways, but at times she's absolutely clueless, and she would have been loud and obvious, and if she had said no......
He shivers again and waits for her.
Soon enough she comes, wearing jeans, a scarf, and a wool sweater that on anyone else would look plain tacky. It makes her looks beautiful. Her grin when she sees him can light up an entire room. "Arthur!" she calls, and the fact that she calls him by his given name gives him a jolt of warmth. "What are you doing? Why aren't you inside your classroom?" She's laughing at his misfortune, but he's not laughing, and she recognizes this. Her smile fades. "You okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine. The classroom isn't open yet, but that doesn't really matter. Abigail, I need to ask you something."
She's uncharacteristically serious. "Yeah, sure. Anything."
"Abigail, will you -- "
Her teacher opens the door to her classroom and her head whips around towards the tantalizing warmth. "Artie, I have to go now."
"No, Abigail, you can't --" He's desperate; she can't leave now, she can't, when else will he ask her?
But she does leave, disappears into the classroom. He watches her go and when he's sure no one else is listening, swears so well that Gilbert Beilschmidt would be proud.
I. One day before prom
Fuck it. Fuck it all.
Arthur doesn't care about his pride, doesn't care about embarrassment, doesn't care about any of it right now; if only Abigail would go to prom with him, he would give anything up.
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Without any regard for who's watching, he says, "Abigail, I've tried time and time again to ask you this, but I haven't been able to muster up the courage. Will you go to prom with me?"
It seems like the entire school's waiting with bated breath for her answer. Arthur feels like he's watching her through a slow-motion camera; her expression changes from amused to surprised to utterly crestfallen -- and suddenly he knows what she's going to say before she says it.
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He laughs ruefully; of course, of course, he should have known -- he waited too long and now she's gone, of course, in life there aren't any fairy-tale endings. He turns to leave, and people are watching him with anxious eyes, waiting for a scene that he won't give them.
Like the perfect gentleman, he sweeps his bangs out of his eyes and smiles, walks away calmly like nothing's happened.
Inside he's screaming.
0. Prom Day
His green eyes are flat and dull, and though he wears a neatly pressed tuxedo he doesn't really care about what happens to it; after all, there's no reason to look good if Abigail isn't there with him. She and Eirik are sitting together and just like she always does she's laughing, laughing, and it makes him slightly sick to think that she could have been laughing for him, but she's not.
He looks away, because he's sure that even just looking at her there's jealousy written all over his face; he wouldn't even be here if he weren't the Student Council president. Junior Prom is for juniors and people invited by juniors. He's lucky he even gets to see Abigail.
He denies the sour feeling in his stomach.
During one of the dances, Eirik comes up to him, smirking. Arthur grits his teeth -- insufferable little sophomore brat -- but doesn't say anything. "How are you then, Arthur?" he says, but the look on his face says much more than that.
Arthur scowls, but he's promised himself that he'll be civil and not punch the little bastard's lights out, so he replies, "Eirik, thank you for asking. I'm absolutely wonderful. I trust Abigail is having a good time?"
Both of their smiles are plastic, but Eirik would probably win the prize for most forced. He's not used to smiling anyway, so it looks even weirder on him. "She's doing great. Really great."
They walk over to Abigail's table. She's sitting there with Gilbert and Mattie -- apparently the other girl hadn't taken Arthur's sage advice -- and looks absolutely beautiful in her white dress. Arthur swallows; coming over here hadn't been such a good idea after all. He doesn't want to look at her but he can't look away; her hair is in golden curls and she's taken off her glasses, opting instead to wear contacts. She's shining, shining so brightly he's surprised they need to keep candles at her table. He looks down; he's making a fool of himself now.
There are extra seats and he and Eirik sit down on either side of Abigail, politely trading jabs and insults. Abigail looks sweetly confused; she can hear them being polite, but there's an underlying tension between the two boys that nobody could miss. She smiles at first, and continues chattering with Mattie and Gilbert, but as it gets worse -- as the boys stop trying to be polite and instead just focus on hurting the other -- her expression changes from one of joy to one of hurt and anger. After one particularly nasty cut from Eirik, she stands up.
Arthur and Eirik glance at her; they've almost forgotten the real reason they started their little war in the first place. Abigail isn't crying, but something is sparkling in the corner of her eye. "I hate you both," she says, voice thick and rough. "God, Arthur, if you had wanted to go to prom with me you should have just asked me instead of ruining my entire night. I didn't even get to dance with my date! I wish I hadn't come to this stupid place at all."
Mattie sends both Arthur and Eirik a glare before standing up and patting her sister on the back, then accompanying her to the bathroom. Gilbert shakes his head. "Damn," he says. "You two really messed it up, didn't you?"
Neither of them answer. Finally Arthur says, "I guess I'll be leaving then. I just ruined what's supposed to be the best night of her life."
i HATE this. i don't know what the hell i did wrong... i messed up part 3... arrggghhh
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Arthur almost laughs. That was why Eirik had asked Abigail to prom? Because he wanted to talk to Angelique? His entire prom was ruined because of that? But then he remembers what he himself has done for Abigail, and his feelings soften a little bit. He nudges Eirik's chair. "Go talk to her," he encourages. Eirik stares at him. "Go on, what are you waiting for, me to knock your teeth out?" Eirik moves, and cuts in between Francis and Angelique just as the songs ends. The latter looks surprised and flattered; Francis just looks annoyed.
He hears the scrape of a chair as Gilbert gets up. "Last dance," he says. "You gonna finally ask your girlfriend to dance, Arts?"
Arthur stands up too, and sees what Gilbert sees -- Mattie and Abigail are coming back from the bathroom. "There's only one thing I have to say to you, Beilschmidt," he replies. "If you don't treat Mattie right, you will regret it." Gilbert laughs and walks over to the two girls, taking Mattie's hand and leading her out onto the dance floor. Only Abigail and Arthur remain, staring at each other. Abigail looks away first, and makes a motion as if to leave, when Arthur steps forward and grabs her hand.
"What are you doing?" She tries to shake herself free, but Arthur's determined; this time he won't let his fear take control of him.
"Listen." His voice is firm, and she turns to face him. "I'm sorry. I made mistakes. I should have asked you before, but Abigail, I was..." He takes a deep breath. "I was afraid. But I'm not anymore. May I have this last dance with you?"
There are catcalls and he's vaguely aware of a large spotlight shining on them; Gilbert and Francis are cheering in the background and Felicia is crying and holding on to Ludwig, who looks vaguely uncomfortable but not displeased. All he can think about is what Abigail's answer is; she has to say yes, she has to say yes. Please...
Are those tears in her eyes? He hopes not; but when she launches herself at him both laughing and crying at the same time, hugging him and babbling something incoherent about finally and waiting, he doesn't think it really matters.
After all, she's finally said yes.
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