𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ✔️

stubborn assumptions

word count: 1.9k

warnings: language, fluff, arvin being as stubborn as a bull and as blind as a bat

edited: idk how but i turned the stress he has into jealousy whoops

a/n: i miss arvin (been saying that for how long omg) but fr, i luv him a ton. pls send more arvin request i don't mind. i'm lowkey happy i opened my requests so yay!

—

The drive to the diner is quiet and not in a comforting way. You can tell by the furrow in his brows and the slight frown on his lips, there's something wrong. But Arvin's never one to open up, the stubborn boy. You let out a soft sigh and lean your elbow by the window, your cheek gently resting in your palm.

"What's wrong with you?" he asks and from your peripheral vision, you can see him glance at you with slight annoyance.

"I could ask the same," you turn your head towards him and look at him straight in the eyes.

"None wrong with me," he dismisses you and looks back at the road.

"You sure about that, Russell?" you pout and lean your head on his shoulder.

"Yes," he grumbles and shrugs you off, causing you to let out a little gasp.

"I think a milkshake will cheer you up, I'll pay," you tut and lean away from him. He sighs but cracks a slight smile at your sass.

Once you two arrive at the diner and got a booth, you ordered a shake and a side of fries. You're now trying to make conversation, "So, how was work?"

"Nothing new or special," he says and leans back against the booth, adjusting his cap.

"Arvin, tell me what's wrong," you sigh and lean forward, taking off his cap to put it on like you usually would mess with him.

He glares at you and snatches it back, putting it on aggressively. "Don't do that."

"Sorry," you murmur and fold your hands in your lap. "You just worry me sometimes when you get like this."

"Get like what? I told you I'm fine, doll," he retorts, a slight hiss to his voice that stabs you in the heart.

"Never mind," you sigh and smile timidly at the waitress who brings over your food.

You place two straws inside and slide the drink towards the middle. "I don't want some anymore," he tells you.

Before you could take a sip you look up at him a bit shocked, and frown. "Oh, okay. You could have some of the fries—"

"Don't want that either," he shrugs and crosses his arms, eyes scanning all over the place.

"Okay," you squeak out, suddenly intimidated by his defensive and stern demeanor.

"Don't get all weak," he rolls his eyes and averts his gaze back to you.

"Excuse me?" you frown and avoid his chilling stare, sipping slowly at the sweet substance.

"You do this thing when you don't know what to say and get all quiet and shit."

You don't respond and stare at your food, a pang of unsure guilt and fear filling your bones. Maybe you did something wrong or maybe something happened to his family. You don't know what to do because, at this moment, you feel like any decision you make is wrong in his eyes.

"So, are we still going to go to the lake this weekend with Lenora?" you finally decide to break the rising tension.

"No..." he hesitantly responds.