LANCASTER AND MAXWELL ( ✔ )

chapter two.

Chapter Two.

SULLIVAN is very glad that Arthur is also incapable of keeping in his sudden surprise because he knows there's no possible way on this green earth that he could've held in his own. In fact, he can't do much of anything when he stands in front of the boy; the only thing he can do without making a damned fool of himself is to just stand and stare.

"So um ..." The slightly shorter, muscular brunette is the first to speak, the confused expression on his face evident that he's more than puzzled than what was going down with his leader and a stranger. "I'm guessing that you two know each other, huh?"

Know each other?

If he hadn't been practically comatose in the spot he stands in, the young man would've broke out in a series of laughs followed by one of his famous eye rolls. Just knowing each other is the understatement of the fucking millennia. Sullivan and his great-uncle Pat just know each other, and he just knows who Frank Ocean is. Artie (or Arthur. Though, he'll never call him that if he can help it) is so much more than just a casually vague and bland explanation of their connection.

Artie had, at one point, been his best friend (his only friend) in the entire world. However, before SJ could make his mind string a coherent sentence together, the blonde beats him to it.

"Yeah," he admits, his speech slow but unwavering, shoving hands in his front pockets. He keeps his eyes on Sullivan as he says, "We go way back."

Green eyes widen partially when Artie's plump lips pull apart and reveal the two rows of perfect, ivory teeth pull into a grin that's similar to the one in the picture before wrapping up Sully in a bro hug, their warm hands wrapped together when they each shake twice. "Sully Maxwell, it's like I'm seeing a ghost."

By this time, he's actually had time to tell his mind to shape the fuck up, and Sullivan can actually speak normally without sounding like a complete idiot. He cocks up his own boyish grin, dimples showing without permission when he replies, "Artie Lancaster. It has been a while, hasn't it?"

"You still a nerd?" He asks.

"Not if you ain't the preppy little asshole you used to be," Sully retorts quickly, and he swears that his ears are ringing in a familiar way when he hears the little laugh that comes out of the blonde's mouth. When he hears the light laugh that's always made his spine shiver and the way Arthur's whole face scrunches with the action, suddenly he's really glad that some things just don't change.

When his eyes open from laughing, Artie looks at his former best friend through dark lashes and shakes his head at him. "Still got jokes, don't you?"

"I mean, I do try to impress the people with my humor. It just makes them add another good quality to my growing list of glowing personality traits."

It's like picking up right where they left off all those years ago when they were just boys on the roof with peach sodas in their hands, talking about anything and everything. There's no awkward greetings, no walking around eggshells or searching for words they cannot say aloud. It's as it's always been —everything is out in the open with nothing changed. 

Well, almost nothing. They're no longer the cute kids they once were, and while he always used to poke fun about how Arthur was stolen from Olympus on account of how godly he used to look, there's no fun and games about the accusation anymore. The blonde looks like Apollo the sun god with his hair woven from pieces of gold and eyes taken from a little piece of the sky. He's not too slim or muscular, he's the perfect definition of lean, and apparently, he's now a king among his people. Now Sullivan can't help but to let a very strange and insecure thought to have for him stick itself into his brain front and center.

Where would I fit in with Artie's friends?

SJ is so invested with this thought that he doesn't realize that his hand is still in the other boy's. Apparently Artie doesn't really notice either, because it takes one of the knights behind him to ask, "Who's your friend, Lancaster?" before either of them awkwardly depart their grips from the other.

He has to admit, just a little bit of their reunion is awkward.

Clearing his throat, Arthur finally turns his body to where the brunette can see the other four boys. "Sully, these are my friends," he introduces. "Guys, this is Sullivan Maxwell."

"But everyone just calls me SJ. That would do just fine." (Everyone but Arthur calls him by his other nickname, but he's an unique case — the blonde has always done what he wants.)

Before anyone can actually pick up the fact they aren't allowed to call him Sully, the blonde with the gelled hair and mischievous smile speaks first. "Nice to meet you," he says. "I'm Franklin Eddington, and that's Chandler Ray." He points to the one with arms folded at his chest and eyes hard as onyx. "He doesn't talk much."

I like him the most already.

"The name's Teddy Quentin." The name belongs to a stocky, muscular figure and a messy head of brown hair. "The man, the myth, the legend."

The Hispanic with the freckles and button-nose says, "Well, the liar, the myth, and the fibber is full of shit. I'm Rodriguez Montoya, but the folks around town call me Rod."

"And we're King Arthur's knights." They all say it with such confidence and satisfaction that they make the statement sound as if it's only a golden, God-given that was bestowed on the lucky four in front of him. It's a life better than being president, a billionaire with ten wives, or being the King of France. To be on Arthur's side is a life well-lived, no matter what the outcome turns out to be. Sully used to be the only one who would fight the whole world with bloody knuckles and unsettling loyalty for him, so the sheer fact that he's no longer the only person that feels this way makes him upset. The words that tumble and crash against the walls of his brain are proven to be too much to bear.

"Your knights, huh?" Sully's tone is meant to be teasing, and by the way the blonde's neck heats up. he knows he has achieved this goal and the malice in his voice goes undetected.

"It's nothing major," he says as casually as he can, attempting to shrug off the statement as trivial, but Sullivan knows better than to take it lightly. Suddenly, between his friends and that fucking stupid dopey smile on Artie's face that he remembers all too well, it's enough for his fight or flight instincts to kick in.

He chooses flight.

 "I'm gon' go find my first period class now," He quickly states, and would not have waited for a response if it weren't for a hand reaching out and taking a hold of his forearm to keep him in place.

The brunette looks up and immediately wishes he hadn't when soft blue eyes meet his own.

ABORT! ABORT THE FUCKING MISSION AND LEAVE RIGHT NOW AND NEVER SEEN THOSE EYES AGAIN!! YOU GOT OUT THIS TIME BUT THE NEXT WILL NOT BE SO EASY.

Arthur is looking at him through dark, long lashes, and Sully is almost two hundred percent positive that he's doing it on purpose to throw him off his game. (Artie has always been a little shit, no matter the age, so he wouldn't doubt it one bit.) I'll catch you later, alright?"

Swallowing hard, he doesn't trust his mouth to move for him, so he's left at the mercy of his brain that can only nod and make his legs move the opposite way. Sully's situation is bad, it's very bad. Catastrophically bad. He's beginning to feel the feelings he caught a long while back, and he has the sudden urge to throw them the fuck back wherever they came from. Four years later, and he still can't get his shit together when it comes to talking to Arthur.

It's a hard life, trying to fight his demons on the daily basis without failure. It's an even harder life when one of those demons has amazing blonde hair and bright blue eyes.