“Well, I mean…” Alfred trailed off, frowning into his own beer for a second as he thought about it. Did it seem like Arthur tried to be a better person? … Not really. It seemed like he wasn’t as bad a person as Alfred used to believe him to be, but whether that was because he tried harder or because Alfred himself had a new perspective he couldn’t be sure. People who tried to be good usually didn’t go around being rude to people and acting aloof or pretentious as Alfred thought his old friend often did. But he also knew that Arthur wasn’t doing that on purpose, and he could be nice when he wanted, did that constitute him trying to be better?
“I know you’re a good person, Arthur. I wholeheartedly believe that you are good in your heart, and it’d be pretty hard to make me think otherwise. But it’s not always good enough to just… try. You have to be better.” Taking a drink himself, his expression sobered as he studied the man beside him. This was all something Alfred was quite familiar with, as conscious as he was of his image, but trying to explain his philosophy to someone else wasn’t easy.
“It’s not enough to keep apologizing and feeling bad for the shitty things you’ve done if you keep doing shitty things. The shitty things you do aren’t bad enough to make you a bad person I don’t think, but if you’re unhappy you’ve gotta make a real change y’know?”
The mere fact that Alfred hesitated before answering made Arthur’s stomach sink – surely that can’t be a positive sign. He was not at all feeling good about himself art the moment. Yet another failure in the relationship domain grated on Arthur’s already poor self-esteem. It was quite devastating considering he personally felt he’d gone to great lengths to be the best version of himself that he possibly could be for this person, only to fail terribly despite all his careful intentions.Â
In truth, he had not asked Alfred this question in the hopes of hearing an honest response, he had asked in the hopes that Alfred might take some pity and tell him a nice white lie – but alas, Alfred was no mind-reader, and Arthur’s brows furrowed once he had received that less-then-desirable response. He returned his attention to his drink in quite the same dejected manner as previous, before downing the entirety of its remnants.Â
“Say what you really feel why don’t you,” he grumbled, clumsily reaching forward to refill his glass with rum. “But I guess you’re not wrong: that’s exactly the sort of thing I do, isn’t it? I don’t care to acknowledge my mistakes until it’s too late.” It irritated Arthur just how well the lad knew him. If Alfred were to list down Arthur’s faults, they’d be alarmingly accurate. “I might have good intentions, but my methods of expressing them are lacking. I get what you’re saying, I do.” His voice quivered somewhat. “But you see, change is a lot easier said than done. My old pride is constantly at odds with this modern conscience – yet I get no bloody points for trying.”Â
Bleedin’ hell, he’s just gonna take a long swig from the bottle.