@ofleoo !
VERY RARELY IS arlo the one walking a drunk person home. no, it’s quite literally the opposite most of the time— it’s not that arlo doesn’t know his limit, it’s that he does and he constantly pushes it. maybe it’s this sick, sick fascination and love for being cared for, but arlo is typically the one that needs a helping hand here and there. but not this time, no— after finding leo quite obliterated at the party at the museum, arlo felt nothing but guilt for even considering leaving the boy to fend for himself. so, he stuck around with him and made sure he was okay. he got him water, fed him some finger sandwiches and shortbread cookies he found on the way out, two of which were wrapped in a napkin that arlo’s holding while he steps outside into the crisp spring evening. he turns to see leo and he grins, then extends a hand for help. “watch your step, there,” he tells leo, gesturing to the few marble steps coming out of the grand museum. once he does, arlo lets out a sigh and starts walking with him and makes sure to extend his arm in case leo needs to grab it.
“where am i taking you, then, leo?” arlo asks. and he doesn’t want to pry— well, he does— which is exactly why it’s no surprise his questions come out slow: “your place? i’m afraid i don’t know where you live, so you’ll have to help navigate. or, you– you could... always go to beau’s, right?”