CAN'T BUY ME LOVE...

[longlivesealand]

Who: The English Gentlemen
When: Friday Evening~
Where: That place Arthur calls 'home'.
What: Peter gets an unpleasant parcel in the post and now he wants some answers.

Comments

[godsavemy]

It was with a keen sense of annoyance that Arthur visited the Liberty Postal Office once a week to check if there was anything there for him to pick up. Most of the time the postman on duty would actually do their job and dutifully deliver everything meant for 666 Gravling Circle. Meaning, they actually placed it in the ruddy post box. But there were still those select cowardly few that simply didn’t even try. There was even this one with glasses and long hair that simply ran when Arthur came out to pick up the post one time.

Granted, that whole affair was a strange business - especially since he thought he recognised that particular postman… But he supposed picking the post up was perhaps better than letting them leave important letters and parcels in front of the gate where anyone might filch them. And they might have continued to do that had not Arthur called in to complain about the shoddy conduct

[longlivesealand]

Peter couldn't remember the last time he saw Arthur or heard his snotty voice. Not that he cared to recall such a trivial detail as he turned on his heels and galloped down the stone steps. No matter what age he was, being in the proximity and being forced to interact with his elder brother always rendered him back to an immature and pestering little brother. Suppose it was that regardless of how old he was, he was always going to be Arthur's little brother; always subjugate to the elder's whimsy.

He hurled the stack of papers at Arthur. The May breeze swept up the pages and scattered them about the path. Rarely would he invade personal bubbles of someone he despised, but boundaries were going to take a backseat. Peter's fist gripped Arthur's haughty sweater vest, his free hand short of saying hello to Arthur's jaw.

Forgo the familial greetings. Let's move forward to the matter at hand.

"What's the meaning of this?" Peter said louder than needed. "What trust fund? What does it all mean?

[godsavemy]

Though the possibility of his shirt being wrinkled was irksome, Arthur didn’t move to extract himself from Peter’s grip. Whether he wasn’t grasping enough to hurt or simply didn’t have that kind of strength, Arthur didn’t know. But he also didn’t care to find out. Though at the moment, Arthur was less concerned about assessing Peter’s ability to take him on and more about the strewn papers that were sure to fly away if the wind picked up. Honestly, was throwing them really necessary…?

“It would be in your best interests to pick those up,” Arthur remarked evenly. “And if you read through them properly, then you should know exactly what it all means.” It was actually a wonder that Peter wasn't actively rubbing it in his face; cheering at the top of his lungs that he had achieved complete and utter independence and he never needed to deal with Jerk Arthur ever again.

[longlivesealand]

"I've read the bloody pages," Peter shouted, surprised even himself that his fist had not rammed up Arthur's cocky throat. The papers had detailed his complete liberation from one Mister Arthur Kirkland. Italics announced that he was no longer his brother's responsibility and Arthur was no longer liable for anything that would happen to him. To wrap it all up in a nice red bow was a large sum of money that was now transferred under his control.

Peter should be happy. He should be bouncing up and down as if the ground was a trampoline. Complete emancipation from Jerk Arthur was what he had wanted since he last donned the funeral suit. He should be happy. All his body currently desired was his knuckles breaking Arthur's jaw. He was not a violent person by nature; but bloodlust beckoned his name