It Won't Be That Bad

Ch 10

It was still the middle of the night when he woke up because the room was stuffy, for some reason the weather temperature around his house had been hot recently. He exhaled softly as he took a plastic cup and opened the refrigerator. Because he couldn't fall asleep again before the AC in his room was really cold, he wanted to drink his sister's oat milk to kill time. He turned on his phone and searched for a good series on an application. The kitchen was dark, he didn't switch on the lights at all.

Arthur positioned his mobile in landscape after taking the tissue box on the dining table to support his device so it wouldn't fall, he played a video of the latest episode of the series he was following this season and finally watched it quietly, not forgetting his glass of milk. Luckily, he hid the biscuits in a place where Patricia couldn't reach them so his sister couldn't eat them when he wasn't looking. (Brothers, sigh.)

For a moment, he was completely absorbed by the drama series, following the plot intently—the horror genre didn't really affect him much now. After all, his brother's family could literally be said to be a walking horror attraction.

Although he seemed startled when he heard a loud falling sound from the backyard.

No, he wasn't not paranoid, shut up.

The black-haired man pulled the earphones out of both ears and turned off the phone as he turned to the back door, the curtains on the kitchen window were closed so he couldn't immediately look out into the yard to see who or whatever it was that was making the scurrying sound as if it was dragging something. He quickly took a knife when he heard the sound getting closer and closer, then stood behind the door. His chest pounded even more when the wooden balcony creaked, and he could hear the sound of heavy breathing from behind the door.

Then the phone ringtone sounded loudly.

Arthur almost dropped the knife in shock and immediately reached for his phone—no, his phone didn't ring at all or even indicated that he had missed a call. His forehead furrowed, he glared back at the door as soon as someone spoke. A voice he knew.

"What? No, I just got home. What do you mean I have to come back tomorrow? Don't you know how much my feet hurt—Dave Miller? Damn it, just call me later—I can't talk right now, asshole! Bye!"

His eyebrows raised, Arthur put the knife on the kitchen container table and opened the door just like that, making the man in front of him flinch in surprise. He tilted his head and smiled slightly. "Luke. I thought you forgot where you were supposed to go home, so I was worried."

Lucas scowled at him. "I don't have time to do something with your behavior now, kid. Watch out." Lucas told him to move aside, so he did. The dark cream-haired man entered the kitchen after he had moved away from him, dragging his right leg slightly, even groaning a little while cursing quickly in German. He pulled the chair roughly and sat down immediately, even though after that Lucas cursed again while holding his ankle. "Ah damn—shit that hurts—ah my leg ... I feel like I'm dying."

"What's wrong with your feet?" Arthur asked curiously, but also sounded worried. He put another chair in front of Lucas because Lucas told him to. Lucas raised his right leg onto the second chair.

"I accidentally sprained my ankle earlier," Lucas answered calmly, he massaged his leg carefully. "Get some cold water or ice cubes, I want to compress it."

Arthur nodded, he took a basin and filled it with cold water, then he took a fabric to use as a compress. He took it to the dining table, dipped the cloth into the basin then wrung it out, he slowly pressed it against Lucas' bruised ankle—Lucas flinched in surprise and groaned in pain dramatically every time he pressed the cloth against his leg, making him snort and roll his eyes lazily. "How could you sprain something like this, really?" Arthur dipped the cloth again and wrung it out.