“ okay. okay. ” aveline took a deep breath, as if re-orienting herself. “ it’s fine, to be scared. what matters is that you’re trying. it means a lot. i’d like that, too, for you to change. not just for me, but for yourself, you know? i don’t know what’s going on, but — ” she shrugged, leaving it to him to piece the rest together. you’re not okay. you weren’t okay when you left, and you’re not okay now.
“ no, no! i wasn’t expecting that. ” she shook her head. “ we can just take it one day at a time. see where this goes. i’ve already told you what i wanted, so. ” her denial was likely a bit more vehement than she intended. ask her half a year ago, and she would’ve been gutted by such an admission. in the quiet at 5 am, when she’d abandoned her heels in the corner of a hotel room and scrolled hazily through her phone with a stranger lying next to her in the sheets, there was nothing she wanted more than for arthur to be the one who carried her up there. now, the path forward seemed unclear.
“ and — well, you’ve never really lost me, despite what you think. we might not be together anymore, and it might not ever be the same, but i do still care about you. can’t help that. ” she fiddled with the yarn of her sweater. “ what now? i’ve got the whole day free. we can get out of here. it’s stuffy, anyway. up to you — you can stay or you can go. ”
arthur flushed – a rare, strange reaction, though perhaps not so strange or rare with vivi. she had the habit of coaxing these sweet, soft, dangerous things out of him like nightshade under a full moon’s bright shimmer. he wondered if she knew that, the way his chest cracked open to her – only for her – a peculiar little biometric he never knew he had before her, and likely wouldn’t have after. rather, he made quite sure of it.
but now – now vivi was offering him a choice. go. stay. reach out. draw back. climb up. double down. shouldn’t she know better? arthur spent his whole life having decisions handed to him, neat on card stock on a silver platter. choices landed bitter in his mouth and festered there until he spat them right back out. and yet – wasn’t this the silver platter? it was tarnished, yes, dented, perhaps, too, but – you’ve never really lost me. a little scrubbing up and it would shine again.
the easy smile arthur knew best around vivi ghosted across him, just for a moment.
“ i never understood why you liked these types of studies. you liked my father’s old one, too, the horrible, dark thing it was. ” he wrinkled his nose. that old levity was there, dusty and dormant and buried deep as it was. “ must be you strange oxford types. ” he stood, began to hold out his hand, and hesitated. “ i’ve been told they’re preparing for a festival in town. about bloody pears. fancy a walk? as friends do. ”