Poetry in Motion

25

Trying to play off as totally okay was hard, being okay was, after all, something which wasn't exactly forthcoming with Arthur; it was ultimately something that had alluded him most of his life, if society was the judge of that. He couldn't even lie, he hurt, he ached, but having Imelda worry after him hurt him more. Arthur could plainly see she still hurt as well. He didn't want her worrying over him, when she should be focussing on herself and how she healed. That wasn't to say he wasn't thankful of the attention she sent his way, of course he was. But there was only so much he could deal with before he had to sigh shortly and look at her pointedly.

His wounds were fresher than hers, so by extension he would be hurting more than her. That was clearly Imelda's thought process, which was completely founded. He had stayed for a little while around hers, trying to recover as much as possible before returning home to a mother who probably wouldn't even notice he was hurt at all. For the most part he went and then came back again.

Imelda still fussed, Arthur held gently onto her wrists at one point in the evening and told her to stop it. He wasn't going to break, or have a breakdown if she didn't keep checking he was doing fine. She had frowned and scooted along the sofa, hands still being held by his and simply tugged them free before leaning against him. "I just worry."

"I know." Arthur had replied, reaching up and combing a hand through her hair as she leaned against him. He turned and shut his eyes, breathing in her scent. It was strange how relaxing it could be, just sitting in silence holding her. Whatever happened in the day was readily pushed from his mind as he just enjoyed being in her presence.

So, of course, when morning came trying to be as natural as possible was near on impossible. Especially when Imelda was quite observational. She could see something wasn't right, she crossed her arms, narrowed her eyes and stared at him silently. Arthur had fidgeted on her doorstep, he was leaving for the day and having her look at him like that just unnerved him a bit.

He cracked. He couldn't help it. "I have a meeting." He said and then swallowed thickly and ran a hand through his hair. "An appointment, I mean. So, I'm not too sure when I can come around, depends on everything, I guess."

"Arthur, it's totally fine. I'm not expecting you to be with me all day every day. I think we'd get fed up of each other, if that happened." Imelda joked softly with a smile on her face.

Arthur's eyes widened as he just nodded slowly to her words, he was content to hear she wouldn't get annoyed or throw a tantrum if they weren't together; but then again, that was her, seemingly totally chilled with everything, unless it was something bad of course. Although, he didn't think he could be fed up with her, and he definitely wouldn't get sick and tired if he spent each waking moment with her. In all honesty, Arthur couldn't think of anything he would want to do more. Especially seems his thought process and moods seemed clearer and more relaxed around her.

Imelda leaned forwards and kissed him on the cheek. "I'm still not at work, so whenever you want to come around all you have to do is knock." She shrugged loosely and simply. Which was true. She wasn't going to dissuade him. She'd welcome him back with open arms. Only because she didn't have plans for the day, didn't mean everyone else didn't either.

Arthur had a job, and a life, and apparently an appointment to keep. Imelda guessed, or presumed rather that he would tell her about it, if he felt like it. If something happened within his meeting that stressed him, or upset him, then yes; he was no doubt going to confess to her how it went. But Imelda wouldn't push him for information.

"Okay." Arthur whispered, a nervous smile on his face as he found himself nodding again and taking a step back.

"Okay," Imelda repeated, her smile growing as she leaned against the doorframe and waved a hand at him.