The Eyes at the Foot of the Bed (Sweet Devil!America x Reader)

Prologue

Almost everyone reeks of beer and bile. One of the lamps has been shattered, its shards scattered on the kitchen floor, much to your horror.

   "Guys, this is a nightmare!" You pull on your hair as you watch what looks like a sixteen-year-old making out with a plastic bag of brownies "I told you having a party was a bad idea, I don't even know these people!"

   Someone trips and then throws up on your mother's favorite faux fur rug. You rub your temples.

   A simple, quiet, intimate get together with your closest friends in your favorite cozy bistro... is that too much to ask?

   "Loosen up, baby doll" Arin swings her hips and almost spills her spiked punch onto your new blouse. Fortunately, you manage to dodge just in time so she ends up staining the wooden coffee table instead, not that it's any better "You're nineteen now!"

   "Yeah, and still underage" You snatch the red cup away "Like you"

   Up to this day you still don't understand why you two are such good friends. She's wild, like animalistic when it comes to indulging herself. The girl loves trouble and will do anything to find it. You, on the other hand, are a lot more like her twin brother, Allen: reserved and responsible, or "boring" as Arin calls the two of you. And unlike Arin, trouble seeks you.

   During a trip to Churchill, Arin once tried to catch the attention of a polar bear, but failed since it was full. Meanwhile, you ended up getting chased by an angry mama bear who thought you got a little too close to her cubs.

   Once, while on the Sognefjord, Arin decided to stand up on the little dingy she, Allen, and you were riding on but when the boat tilted it was you who fell into the freezing fjords.

   Now, you're sure your parents' house is going to look like an earthquake decided to stop by for some tea.

   "You're such a pooper" Arin's accent is heavier than usual. Brits really love their tea, don't they? You think.

   "My parents will murder me—no, scratch that, they'll lock me up, confiscate everything I own, keep me alive for a week of withdrawal, and then murder me"

   She wipes away her pout "I have something to cheer you up"

   You raise an eyebrow, watching her stumble away, her barely-covered legs disappearing into the partying crowd.

   Suddenly, something cold touches your wrist.

   You whip your head reflexively.

   "Easy"  

   You breathe a sigh of relief, "Arthur" Dressed like a punk star in the 80's with his all-black ensemble, one may think he's an irresponsible and immature college student. In reality, beneath those layers of dark eyeliner and leather belts, he's a real sweetheart who loves tea and books and folklore.

   He chuckles "Hi there, love. Sorry I arrived late"

   "Nah, it's all right. Not like you missed anything" You grumble the last part, still cursing at your luck.

   He clears his throat "A-anyway, I came to wish you a happy birthday"

   You smile kindly, trying to ignore the blush that is so obviously crawling up his neck and to his ears.

   Arthur likes you, like reeeally likes you, and you like him, too. Just not in the same way.

   "Thank you" You nod but say no more, leaving a silence between the two of you and making him squirm inwardly at the awkwardness.