Eventually

Chapter Seventeen

IMPORTANT A.N.

Chapter Sixteen and Seventeen are in the wrong order. The story makes sense both ways, but this chapter chronologically goes before the last chapter. They still make sense this way, which is why I'm not going INSANE, but I'm going to switch them around after I release Chapter Eighteen bc I'm totally OCD about this sorta shit.

If you guys remember back to Chapter Eleven, it was a reflective chapter full of flashbacks from Arthur's perspective. The flashbacks were all the main and beautiful memories Arthur had of his childhood with Freddie. Well, for this chapter, I decided to do the same thing, but through Freddie's eyes. I just really want to show the difference in perspectives of the two characters, and how they grew up together.

I hope you like where I'm taking this book. Vote and comment, xoxo, Clay.

Chapter Seventeen  

June 24th 1999  - Frederick Pepper  

I remember the day that it all started, the day that I met Arthur Valgari. It was his first day of school, in a new town. For me, it was like any other day, until he stumbled into that classroom on two left feet, and I signalled him to come sit next to me. Even then, he didn't. He wandered over to his own table, a lonely boy sitting by himself in the corner of the classroom.

What I saw, the first time I laid eyes on him, was a pale, brown-haired, lonely little creature. A boy who never smiled and never laughed, like all the happiness had been drained out of him, like he didn't know how to be happy and he never would. He'd later tell me that he saw his own dad kill himself, in their old living room, their old life, when he was so young as well. I saw the tears in his eyes when he told me, and I knew I was looking back at a broken child.

I don't really know what made me go up to him that first day at school, maybe it was the idea of fixing him, of making him better, that magnetised me to him. And that was exactly what it felt like, looking back. It was just magnetic.

That day, I didn't know that I was walking right up to the boy I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I had no idea what we'd become, the kind of people we'd grow up to be, and I didn't care. All the years of my life that I'd spent with him, up until I snogged that girl at Millicent's party, they were perfection - our two lives, interconnected, woven together like the blanket of a giant tossed over the planet. We were linked, and in a way, I thought we always would be.

I had no idea that the single decision I made that day, to walk up to him and introduce myself, would change our lives a thousand times over. So many of my nights had been spent staring up at the ceiling of my bedroom, wondering what if?

I wouldn't want to imagine a world where Arthur Valgari wasn't my best friend. I don't think I would be able to even live in that world.

"I'm Freddie," I said to him, sitting down at his table. The look he shone back at me, that was a look I'll never forget. His entire face dangled on every word that left my mouth. His eyes were beaming, colossal, like all his unhappiness was slowly being driven out of him.

"I'm Arthur," he said back, after a moment of silence.

Even now, I can't really say what it was that made me go up to him. I didn't really have any friends of my own, everyone at school thought I was a weird kid. The way I fidgeted with the zipper on my jacket, and back then, I used to scream whenever people got too close to me. Back then, I feared everyone and everything around me. All the kids and their laughing, smiling faces, their whole worlds untouchable in the early years of childhood.

Back then, I guess everything about us seemed untouchable. We were just kids, nothing could hurt us, not really. Looking back on it, those memories reminded me of flying. Looking back and seeing them all play out, they made me feel like a great bird soaring high into the sky, through the clouds and the skies and the whole wide world. And Arthur was by my side the entire time.

That was the one memory that kept replaying in my mind, over and over. The first time I laid eyes on the sad little boy, with a sad little face, and sad little eyes that could melt the entire world into sticky, molten chocolate.

And then I remembered something else. Another time that Arthur and I were untouchable. The two of us were sitting beneath a tree blossoming in a blistering summer. Our backs rested against its great brown trunk, with the sun shining down, the world slipping away into the weeks of a mindless summer. It was the summer that nested itself somewhere in-between the last days of our childhood, and the rest of our lives.

"Let's make a vow," I told him.

"What vow?" he asked, twisting his head lazily to look me in the eyes.

"Promise me we'll be best friends, Arthur. Best friends forever."

He smiled, held out his pinkie, and said, "I promise," and if there was ever a moment in my life where I was the happiest I'd ever be, that was it. Feeling his pinkie intertwine with my own, it made me feel like he'd always be around, like nothing could drive us apart. We truly were untouchable, like birds flying seamlessly through the skies, just the two of us and no one else.

And then I was reminded of the kiss.

Years before either of us even started thinking about girls. The first time we'd ever gotten drunk. I'd stolen some vodka from my mum, and the two of us locked ourselves away in his basement, and finished off the whole thing. Eventually, Arthur was slurring all over the place, singing cheesy love songs and dancing with the walls.

We were wasted, but it was a memory I'd held close to me for years. I'd passed out on the couch, my head was spinning, but I felt it. His lips meeting mine, soft and quick, but it was my first kiss. My eyes shot open, and stared at his face, his beautiful, gorgeous face. I pretended to fall back to sleep, and felt him collapse down on the couch beside me. His legs sprangled into mine, and when I heard him snoring, I sat back up.

I don't know how long I must have spent staring at his face, his eyes closed, knowing he was lost to the world. He was in a far away place, up in the stars or hiding in the long green grass, whatever he wanted. He was dreaming.

He had such long eyelashes, I noticed. And his lips. My finger traced over the edges of my own, remembering the moment, cherishing it.

I was going to bring it up the next day, but he'd blacked out, didn't remember the whole night after the first couple sips. And that was typical of Arthur. Every time after that, when he was drunk, he never remembered most of the night. So the memory was lost to him, forgotten, hidden away in his head.

Over the years, I kept telling myself that the kiss was nothing. It meant nothing. We were both so drunk, and he didn't even remember, so what was the point?

But it was still my first kiss, and even now, I was so glad it wasn't with anyone else.

Arthur, to me, was transcendent. He made my life worth living. He was everything to me. And even though I'd completely fucked it up, I knew I couldn't break my promise. Even if we couldn't be together, even if he found someone else, I never wanted to stop being his best friend. Even if I wasn't the love of his life, his soulmate, it didn't matter to me, as long as he was happy.

I suppose, somewhere along the line, that was all I wanted for him. More than anything else, knowing that he'd live a long and happy life, well, that would be enough for me. Ever since I saw him that first day at school, sad and broken, I knew he deserved to be happy. I knew I wanted to make him happy. If it was the last thing I did, I was determined to put a smile on his face.

But walking into that bedroom and seeing him with someone else, even though it hurt more than anything in the entire world, I didn't care.

He was happy, wasn't he? That should have been enough for me. But it wasn't, because there was a voice in the back of my head, telling me, over and over again, one simple thing:

Maybe he'd be happier with you.

And maybe, just fucking maybe, he would be.