Terminally Abstract

Chapter 8

"I'm still trying to find myself in this decay. But I'm glad you're here as my company."

My eyelids slowly opened and I felt the smooth fabric of soft bed sheets and the warm sun, gleaming upon me. Yet probably too much, for my face was burning hot. My hand sleepily brushed it. They were ice. I shook my head and rolled to my side, my body aching in sweat.

Arthur had slept on the floor, apparent by the blankets sprawled across it.

The door opened and Arthur came out, holding a platter of apple juice and pancakes. A delicacy from burnt bread.

"Came down with a fever last night. You sure as hell ain't going to school today, dude." He placed the platter on his dandelion yellow dresser.

"God, I thought last night was just a dream." I scratched my head and sat up.

"Nope. Eat up, you need the energy. I left some medicine on there for you too."

"Thanks, mate."

Arthur chuckled.

"You're welcome, your majesty."

Arthur curtsied.

I rolled my eyes and reached for the glass of juice. "Thank you, Arthur."

"Oh, yeah no problem...Well I've still gotta go to school, so hold yourself up while I'm gone yeah?"

I nodded.

"Don't worry. My mom's off today from work, so you won't be alone. I asked her to keep away from my room though, so you'd have some privacy."

His mother was the cavity inducing woman on the block. Her kindness and sweets could cause diabetes.

"She made cookiessss~" Arthur winked.
As he started to head towards the door,  he loosely hung onto the handle. "Turns out something bad did happen last night." He looked to the floor. "I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault." I watched the floor as well. My hands began to clutch the glass as I remembered the events.

"Guess my dimples are no good." Arthur smiled shyly.

"They're great."

Arthur left and returned with a crisp, snowflake white canvas and a variety of paint brushes, watercolor, and acrylics.

He placed them on my lap.

"My god, Arthur. Where'd you get these?" I frantically touched the brushes.

"There's this magical place called the garage."

"I can't thank you enough."

"You don't have to. That's what friends are for."

I looked at my hands. Friends. We were friends.

"You big cheese!" I hollered and threw a pillow towards his face, careful not to spill my drink

"See you, loser!" He chirped as he skipped out of the room.

_______________________
I wearily placed my toes onto the cool floor, heaved my weight to my legs and headed to the bathroom. It was only across the hall, recalling from my distant memory.

I stood in front of the mirror and noticed my reflection. Pale, oily, puffy eyes and a really bad cowlick. I started to head back to Arthur's room and searched through his drawer for a fresh set of clothes. Wrinkled and worn out, yet clean, I acquired a pair. He wouldn't mind, I told myself.

I came back to the bathroom and turned on the water for a shower. When the temperature was just right, I hopped in. As the water ran down my back onto the backs of my knees, it reminded me of the burning and flooding house. Had Arthur not seen it? It was probably just my imagination. Or. Hallucination. I'm not the type to have dreams often, yet if I did, it would likely be something like that. Strange. I wonder what goes on in my head when I'm not thinking about it...  Shower thoughts, am I right?

When I finished, I stepped out from the steaming water and wrapped a towel around myself. Grabbing a comb, I smoothed over my head, feeling the pricks of plastic. It was soothing, calming, like how my mother used to be. I set it down and put on Arthur's  clothes.

I headed back to his room, tossed my clothes into the hamper, and began my part 2 of my work.

The hours ticked and tocked away. The clouds whizzed to and fro again and again. The birds chirped until the sun started to descend into the hills. I hardly had time to realize that I had a crap ton of homework to do when I came back to school. Arthur came back home.

"Ooh! Let me see!" he exclaimed, opening his door.

"Well, hello to you too."

"It's amazing." He spoke in awe. It was a recreation of my shattered piece back at my house. 

"You know you could stay at my house for as long as you need to, right?"

"No." I shook my head. "I've got to go home. No matter how horrible my mother is, she can't handle my father on her own."

"You can't either!" Arthur had his hand placed upon my head, smoothing it over like the comb. My head backed up against the head board of the bed in shock. Displays of affection were not common.

People would do anything to have a friend like him. I knew that.

"How are you doing?"

"Better with the medicine." I actually didn't have a headache all of today. That's new.

"Okay, let's head to the kitchen. My mom would love to see you again." That's right. I haven't paid her a visit in a while, but Arthur and her look the same anyways, so same thing.

Arthur bowed courteously and held out his hand. We were still playing Butler I suppose. I snorted and shook it. I felt so awkward. Arthur started laughing and walked out of his room.

Walking to the kitchen, I spotted a used canvas hung upon the wall.

"I kept it. All this time." Arthur mentioned.

"Loose wires."

"No, abstract artist." He patted my back.

"Terminally."

I heard footsteps behind me and felt a welcoming aura. As if someone's smile was piercing through my head.

"Hello, Michael."