Life is a Beautiful Nightmare [4c/?]
anonymous
July 26 2011, 23:14:33 UTC
“So I told her that she was a stupid whore and she’s all like-” the guy who was talking turned his eyes in front of him, only to spot Arthur, who was awkwardly fumbling to put the makeup away. “Kirkland?”
Arthur swore, shoving the stick and foundation in his pocket but forgetting the brush in his hand. He clapped another hand over his left eye just in case the bags were still showing and shook his head.
“Was that makeup I just saw?”
“N-No, it was uhh...” completely taken by surprise, Arthur stuttered before laughter made him look away.
“No way. Arthur Kirkland, the angry Brit who always sleeps in class and happens to be student council president wears makeup ?” another one choked out through strings of laughter, making Arthur redden in the face in embarrassment. Coupled with his sopping wet hair and dripping clothes sticking to his thin, bony body, he looked like the exact definition of pitiful.
“Oh man, I gotta tell the guys!” the leader laughed, catching Arthur’s attention. His eyes (or his only visible eye) widened in horror, and he put a hand out to stop them as they turned around to leave.
“N-No, wait, this isn’t what it looks like!” he tried protesting, cut off by more laughter, steadily getting farther as the boys exited the bathroom.
“Oh my god, Kirkland, you’re such a fag.” Was the last jeer he heard before his brain shut him out. Slowly, he leaned against the wall and let himself slide down, his clothes making squelchy sounds as he sat on them.
His lips pursed into a thin line, conflicting emotions giving him a headache (though he attributed it to sleep deprivation again). He didn’t know whether he should be angry, or sad, or vengeful, or just nothing. Right now, he was just so... confused. So confused with what he should be feeling, and so tired of thinking about it.
So he just sat there, against the wall, in a small bundle, not knowing if he should burst out into tears or completely cut the football team’s budget for the next three years to come.
“H-Hey, Arthur...?”
Oh. Oh, there was one left. Arthur couldn’t even find the energy to look up. He was sure he’d see the same worried blue eyes as last time.
“Go away.” He simply whispered. “Go laugh somewhere else.”
“I wasn’t gonna.” Alfred pouted, looking affronted. “I just wanted to know whether you needed help or not.”
“I don’t need your goddamn help.” Arthur muttered, staring at the tiles before pushing himself up and grabbing his backpack. “Tell the teacher I have urgent work to do in my office. I’m not going to class.” He simply informed him before pushing the door and exiting the bathroom.
Unfortunately for him, Alfred was by his side in a second.
“What’s wrong with your eye, though? Are you hurt?” he asked, eyes brimming with concern as he grasped Arthur’s frail (far too bony, were wrists even supposed to be that thin and pale?) wrist, trying to pry it away from his eye.
“I’m fine, just get to class, Jones.” The student council president snapped, slapping his hand away and stalking off. It seemed like his exhausted brain had decided on being angry after all.
Alfred could only watch in confusion and slight hurt as Arthur turned a corner and disappeared.
He just wanted to help... Why was Arthur pushing him away...?
And if Arthur were here and could hear those thoughts, he’d just let out an incredulous laugh and wonder how in hell he managed being so oblivious.
Phew, that's it for today! Author!anon loves your comments, but won't reply so she won't spam >_<" She still loves 'em, though~
You totally did not stray from the prompt. I love this. And I love you.
The scene between Arthur and his father was perfect -- I really do believe that emotional abuse and neglect are just as devastating as any form of physical abuse, so I'm glad you decided to take this route... I feel so sadistic. But anyway, you managed to inject real emotion into part four, and I had tears welling up and everything! As if his home life isn't bad enough, he gets bullied too?! I just want to give the poor boy a hug.
I do love how you've kept him so in character though-- being all angry and snarky even when he's crying on the inside. <3 I'm loving this fill and I can't wait for more!
Arthur swore, shoving the stick and foundation in his pocket but forgetting the brush in his hand. He clapped another hand over his left eye just in case the bags were still showing and shook his head.
“Was that makeup I just saw?”
“N-No, it was uhh...” completely taken by surprise, Arthur stuttered before laughter made him look away.
“No way. Arthur Kirkland, the angry Brit who always sleeps in class and happens to be student council president wears makeup ?” another one choked out through strings of laughter, making Arthur redden in the face in embarrassment. Coupled with his sopping wet hair and dripping clothes sticking to his thin, bony body, he looked like the exact definition of pitiful.
“Oh man, I gotta tell the guys!” the leader laughed, catching Arthur’s attention. His eyes (or his only visible eye) widened in horror, and he put a hand out to stop them as they turned around to leave.
“N-No, wait, this isn’t what it looks like!” he tried protesting, cut off by more laughter, steadily getting farther as the boys exited the bathroom.
“Oh my god, Kirkland, you’re such a fag.” Was the last jeer he heard before his brain shut him out. Slowly, he leaned against the wall and let himself slide down, his clothes making squelchy sounds as he sat on them.
His lips pursed into a thin line, conflicting emotions giving him a headache (though he attributed it to sleep deprivation again). He didn’t know whether he should be angry, or sad, or vengeful, or just nothing. Right now, he was just so... confused. So confused with what he should be feeling, and so tired of thinking about it.
So he just sat there, against the wall, in a small bundle, not knowing if he should burst out into tears or completely cut the football team’s budget for the next three years to come.
“H-Hey, Arthur...?”
Oh. Oh, there was one left. Arthur couldn’t even find the energy to look up. He was sure he’d see the same worried blue eyes as last time.
“Go away.” He simply whispered. “Go laugh somewhere else.”
“I wasn’t gonna.” Alfred pouted, looking affronted. “I just wanted to know whether you needed help or not.”
“I don’t need your goddamn help.” Arthur muttered, staring at the tiles before pushing himself up and grabbing his backpack. “Tell the teacher I have urgent work to do in my office. I’m not going to class.” He simply informed him before pushing the door and exiting the bathroom.
Unfortunately for him, Alfred was by his side in a second.
“What’s wrong with your eye, though? Are you hurt?” he asked, eyes brimming with concern as he grasped Arthur’s frail (far too bony, were wrists even supposed to be that thin and pale?) wrist, trying to pry it away from his eye.
“I’m fine, just get to class, Jones.” The student council president snapped, slapping his hand away and stalking off. It seemed like his exhausted brain had decided on being angry after all.
Alfred could only watch in confusion and slight hurt as Arthur turned a corner and disappeared.
He just wanted to help... Why was Arthur pushing him away...?
And if Arthur were here and could hear those thoughts, he’d just let out an incredulous laugh and wonder how in hell he managed being so oblivious.
Phew, that's it for today! Author!anon loves your comments, but won't reply so she won't spam >_<" She still loves 'em, though~
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The scene between Arthur and his father was perfect -- I really do believe that emotional abuse and neglect are just as devastating as any form of physical abuse, so I'm glad you decided to take this route... I feel so sadistic. But anyway, you managed to inject real emotion into part four, and I had tears welling up and everything! As if his home life isn't bad enough, he gets bullied too?! I just want to give the poor boy a hug.
I do love how you've kept him so in character though-- being all angry and snarky even when he's crying on the inside. <3 I'm loving this fill and I can't wait for more!
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