Backwater Stray [Mihai, Lukas]

[Arthur Kirkland]

This had been proving to be a shitty year so far. Breaking off a relationship at the start of the school year was never a good start—no matter what rubbish excuse they came up with to end things, Arthur wasn’t going to hang onto something that didn’t want to hang onto him in the first place. So, he let go, agreeing to the rubbish excuse because it was still an excuse in the end. And so, he did the next best thing: bury himself in his work, schoolwork and night work, saving as much money as he could. The best part about doing these gigs, blending into the sweating, grinding crowds was that he didn’t allow his thoughts to wander, holding them in tight captivity, in bonds made of liquor, nicotine, and lack of sleep.

His thoughts had been held captive for the past few months now; he didn’t want to think about the fact that his heart still ached, didn’t want to admit that it was even aching in the first place. He wanted to continue feeling untouchable, invincible, like no one and nothing could dig their fingers into the recesses of his heart again. Playing his music felt like being on autopilot, the sounds overwhelming, the pulse of the nightclub around him was like sitting in a bath of overstimulation. His thoughts were drowned out and he only needed to stare forward while the rest of him moved, eyes glazed and tired, across the sea of colour and black light painted flesh.

When the music ended, Arthur could still feel the vibrations of his guitar against his torso, his calloused fingers still heated from playing. The crowd was loud, half of them probably drunk or torched out of their minds. Arthur didn’t really care. He was finished for the night and his pocketbook would be a little bit heavier. While the rest of his bandmates decided to linger, Arthur was already weaving his way through the crowd for the backdoor. He’d been stopped twice, asked if he’d like to make plans later that night. He ignored them, hardly mustering enough energy or care to politely decline.

Shouldering into his worn leather jacket, the material matching the worn expression over his features, sharper than usual from absentmindedly missing meals. The heel of his palms pressed against the metal of the door and the temperate night air felt like a fresh breath over his skin. Arthur paused to press against the brick building wall, leaning his cased guitar next to him as he searched his pockets. His entire body felt drained of its resources, leaning against something solid, stronger than him at the moment, was a relief, his blood crying for a surge of energy to make it back to the dorms. Finding his package of cigarettes, he was disappointed to notice that he only had a few left. Perching one between his lips, he ducked to light it. Once lit and warm, he took a heady drag. The nicotine immediately swimming in his veins, keeping a reasonable alertness before he could start making his way back to the dorms. The artificial adrenaline would keep him going. He always had to keep going.

After finishing half the cigarette, he finally pushed against the wall, slinging the guitar case over his shoulder. Walking through the streets, back toward the dormitories, he could only guess that it was around midnight or early morning. The shadows were still long and the streetlights cast a garish light over the buildings. It was silent aside from the occasional voices of college stragglers. His fringe felt heavy against his brow, a constant reminder that he should get it cut soon. The half circles were also visible under his eyes, something he almost avoided noticing in the mirror whenever he left for work in the evenings. And the way that his clothes hung a little more than they usually did off his frame gave away how he’d been treating himself in those past few months. As soon as the cigarette had finished, he snubbed out the electric glow, tossing it in the nearest rubbish bin, before approaching the edge of the dormitory buildings and collection of flat complexes. His thoughts collected enough at this point to wonder where the hell he was even going from here.

Every path looked the same, every road led to the same, tedious place.

[Mihai Roșu]

It had become a rare sight to see Mihai out on the streets late at night. While he was formerly a common fixture of the nightlife near campus early on in his student life, his appearances had become rarer after the beginning of sophomore year and he'd moved in with Lukas. Who could blame him? The prospect of one-night stands and too-loud music had paled dramatically on contrast to the quiet evenings he spent with Lukas curled up in bed. If they went out, it was usually the two of them together, but the moments when he made himself known on his own were much fewer than the two to three nights a week during his first few months at school.

On this slightly unusual occasion in which he was prowling the streets at night, he appeared to have no real destination. He passed over several of the same streets, stopping from time to time at a sign or checking up the name of a club, before moving on. He had been known to wander sometimes (perhaps unwisely), enjoying the slightly unnerving atmosphere of the city after dark, but such was not the case this night. The truth was, he did have a destination–a club called "The Hole in the Wall," which must veritably live up to its name, because Mihai was well and hopelessly lost. Admittedly, that was not unusual for him, and he would not mind it so much if he didn't have a schedule to make.

The schedule in question was one o'clock, which was when he'd been told Arthur Kirkland's performance at the club was ending. His task was to sequester the mangy performer and drag him off back to the dorm–his and Lukas', to be precise–for some good, old-fashioned snacks, tea, and maybe relationship counseling (the latter of which would largely depend on Arthur's willingness to talk). It was a bona fide intervention, suggested by none other than Mihai himself, and in the process of being executed by him (naturally) and Lukas. Which would kind of fail if he didn't manage to find the individual in need of an intervention. Whoops.

The moment the clock struck five to the hour, Mihai gave up searching for himself, and without being able to afford the luxury of 4G, he could hardly hope to enlist the aid of Google Maps. He called Lukas instead, asking Lukas to find the directions for him, an idea which was also ultimately abandoned one circle and ten minutes of confused and confusing discussion later. He'd try to intercept Arthur at the dorm, Mihai decided, counting on the need for an intervention in the first place to mean that Arthur wouldn't be going out. Whether that meant he'd return to his dorm was debatable, but it seemed to be a more likely way to find their friend now that the performance was already over.

Reluctantly, he ended the call with Lukas to let him get back to setting up, and so that he himself wouldn't get mugged while he was distracted. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and started back towards campus, walking quicker than his relaxed pace before since he wanted to reach Arthur before he got back to his room, or wanted to catch him along the way.

It was late enough that for a few minutes, he heard nothing but his own quiet footsteps on the pavement, with a few stray cars driving past and a group of stragglers crossing on the other side of the road. It wasn't until he'd entered campus itself that his attention was caught by a silhouetted figure up ahead and he sped up, getting closer when the person stopped to toss out a cigarette. Sighting the guitar case slung around his back and the shock of blond hair, Mihai dared to thank Lady Luck before calling out Arthur's name, not a second before he looped an arm around Arthur's and unceremoniously began dragging Arthur in another direction–back towards his dorm.

"Word around campus has it that you're working yourself down to the bone, my dear," he said matter-of-factly (though the case was much less campus rumors than Lukas' observations), "and we decided it was high time that someone stopped you before you worked yourself to death. Sooo, basically, we're making you spend the night at our place, and we'll make sure you get fed and stuff, and, no, you don't really have a choice about this unless you punch my lights out or something, but that would break my heart, and my face, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't."

Indeed, he was hearing no protests about the idea, so even if Arthur did object, those would have been brushed off. He didn't even let Arthur go as they passed through the main entrance of their dorm, took the elevator to the last floor, then dragged him through the hallway until they hit the right door. He pulled out his key and unlocked it, guiding Arthur inside first before stepping in himself and closing the door behind them. "I'm back!" he announced as he kicked off his shoes and breezed in to give Lukas a kiss on the cheek. "And I brought our guest with me."

SPOILER: Click to show

Lukas Iversen: All yours~!

[Lukas Iversen]

He’d barely seen Arthur since the beginning of the school year. It wasn’t that unusual, to be honest, as he wasn’t the most outgoing person to begin with and people always had their own business to take care of. The first weeks of a new semester were always busier, too, and for someone like Arthur who had his band rehearsals and weekly gigs on top of normal classes there wasn’t often vacant time in the week to be spare. He had to admit that his own mind had been preoccupied with other things as well; moving in with someone for the first time wasn’t a small deal to him, and he’d spent the majority of his free time adjusting to the change and making the most of every opportunity to laze around in bed with Mihai.

Which really was the reason he hadn’t really realized anything was wrong with his other friend sooner. He had heard of Arthur’s breakup, but when Arthur had seemingly gone about his life as usual afterwards and with his own relationship going through major, albeit positive, changes it had been all too easy to fall into the delusion that Arthur would be fine without continuous support from his friends. It had been a great misjudgment on his part, something he’d beat himself up for the moment he’d laid his eyes on Arthur on campus a couple weeks ago. One look at his hollowed cheeks and tired eyes and he’d realized how self-centered he’d been, imagining that just because things were good for him there weren’t others that might be suffering. Making amends hadn’t turned out to be easy, however. Arthur had been nearly impossible to get a hold of, his calls going to voice mail more often than not and his attempts to find his friend on campus futile at best. If it wasn’t for the fact that he knew Arthur was still attending practice and playing at clubs he would’ve been worried Arthur had gone and done something stupid. Though it also seemed that if Arthur didn’t stop soon, he would end up killing himself with work alone.

Which was why he’d finally brought his concerns to Mihai, who’d in turn come up with their plan for tonight. It didn’t seem like Arthur would be asking for help himself, so they would bring the help to him. Or at least offer him the support that they should’ve been giving him from the start. Whether Arthur was willing to accept that or not… they would find out once Mihai came back. If his boyfriend would be able to locate the right pub and their friend on time.

“What do you mean you can’t find it?” He’d snapped at Mihai through the receiver when he’d suddenly received a call from his apparently lost boyfriend. It wasn’t really Mihai’s fault as it turned out a few minutes later that the place was nearly impossible to find even with the guidance of the internet, but he was worried for Arthur and feeling guilty and stupid for letting things get to this point. And he really, really, didn’t want things to awry just because they couldn’t find one sleazy club.

So he’d tried to help Mihai through the phone until they’d agreed that Mihai would try to look for Arthur at the dorms instead, then hung up and went back to setting everything up for when the two would (hopefully) arrive. He’d tidied the place up, prepared snacks and extra blankets. Even the disaster that was Mihai’s bed had been emptied of junk and made neatly so their guest wouldn’t have to sleep on the couch. There wasn’t really much left to do besides wait so he went to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea, only to hear the door open as soon as the kettle started boiling. He peeked into the hallway just as Mihai gave his greetings, and was glad to find out that Mihai wasn’t alone. His eyes immediately glued onto Arthur, only leaving his withered form for a second to return Mihai’s kiss and mumble a quiet praise in his boyfriend’s ear. Then, he stepped forward to give Arthur a slow once over, noting that he looked even worse than he had the last time he’d seen him. And that made him feel even more guilty but also a little mad at Arthur for treating himself like this. Francis had already treated him like crap, he didn’t need to do that to himself as well.

“You look like shit.” He said quite honestly, crossing his arms. “What’s even going on in that head of yours?” He actually had a pretty good idea what was going on in that head of his but he had a feeling a little bit of sternness was in place, if only to show Arthur he was genuinely worried. He didn’t want to overdo it, though, afraid that Arthur would end up running away if he started giving him a lecture before he’d even made it out of the hallway, so after giving him another serious look he sighed, stepped forward, and put a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, there’s tea and food in the kitchen.”

---

Arthur Kirkland

[Arthur Kirkland]

Arthur really wanted to be plastered right now, or something equivalent to that. He didn’t understand how a person could feel so shitty, but look absolutely fine and healthy on the outside. Well, now he probably didn’t look particularly healthy, but he supposed that was an accurate depiction of how he felt, the ever brutally honest bastard that he was. He heard his name being called, and Arthur glanced up, tired green eyes meeting Mihai’s. Before he could even think to turn the corner down a different street entirely, the other slung his arm about his shoulders, careening him in a different direction. Arthur wasn’t going to put up any resistance. What difference would it make if he ended up sleeping in his dorm, in an alleyway, at a stranger’s, on a park bench, or curled up in the corner of Luk and Mihai’s flat? No real difference.

And so he allowed himself to be led, his numb hands still shoved into his pockets. He only heard a portion of Mihai’s words, something about Arthur working himself to death, with which he simply raised his shoulders a tad, eyes still forward, but at least he was still compliant with where they were going. Had he been a little less tired, far less hungry (not that he could feel the hunger pains), and held a little more care for where his night ended, he might have put up more resistance. He grunted slightly, vaguely amused with Mihai’s statement that he would have to break his face if he wanted to be let go. ”Of course not, I’m not that cruel, am I,” he spoke dryly and low, without much expression, far less lively than he’d been at his gig. Even then, he usually had something artificial to boost his lackluster self in order to get better pay.

Arthur’s eyes trailed a little throughout the place once they arrived, a certain calmness clinging with the homey feel of the flat. It had been a long while since he’d last been here and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt standing there now. He wasn’t sure how he felt about most things. At least in this blurred period of time. Arthur carefully averted his eyes from the affection between the couple, his heart hurt in that brief moment, a sharp twinge that he wasn’t exactly expecting to feel. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to be around couples right now. Still, he believed Mihai when he told him that they wouldn’t allow him to leave, so he carefully unslung his guitar, leaning it gingerly against the free corner of the room, showing far more care toward his instrument than he had for himself in weeks.

Turning to face the other two, he snorted softly at Lukas’s assessment. ”I feel like shit. It’s an honest reflection,” he responded rather dryly, quietly. His expression softened, the harsh edge and the apathetic armour with Lukas’s question that followed. He felt the pain surface just a touch, like a tender wound barely beneath the surface. He averted his eyes again, embarrassed and not wanting the other two seeing anything that resembled that ache. Thick embarrassment that he had trusted and allowed someone to place that pain there in the first place. If Arthur didn’t really want to know what was going on in his own head, he doubted that the two wanted to see the mess that resided there either.

He felt the hand on his shoulder and he glanced up, cautiously, like a cornered, homeless vagrant. That’s what he felt like: a bedraggled, battered stray with no real place to go, nowhere that he belonged, languidly shifting from one gig, work shift, and class to the next. Still, he trusted Mihai and Lukas to the point where he allowed them close enough to touch him. He stepped forward when Lukas urged him forward, telling him that there was tea and food in the kitchen. The tea at least sounded good. He still didn’t have much of an appetite, but he would try if it would give them a hint of satisfaction.

...

Tag // Mihai Roșu your turn~

[Mihai Roșu]

Seeing Arthur under the lights of their flat was something else. He hadn't been able to make it out under the dimness of the lamps, but with Lukas's critical remark 'You look like shit', Mihai couldn't help but concur. It wasn't that Arthur looked like he was dying or starving or anything–and Arthur had always been skinny anyway–but more like he'd been run down to the bone. Dark smudges marred the skin beneath his eyes, and the usual confidence with which he held himself had all but deflated in the privacy of their flat, hidden from prying eyes. What a frightening thing relationships could be, he couldn't help but muse. Even people who thought themselves self-sufficient and immune to inclinations of heartbreak could become run down by it.

Luk traded a few more words with Arthur while he wandered into the kitchen. The mugs and teapot that Luk had brought out sat on the counter, the kettle still steaming. Mihai filled the pot as Luk coaxed Arthur over, wondering, for a moment, whether he would be the same if his relationship with Luk fell apart. He'd been through high school breakups before, but those had been flings–no one really expected those relationships to last long, did they?–and neither dumping someone nor getting dumped had ever been earth-shattering. Now, he thought he understood a little better. No wonder people were so afraid of letting others in. No wonder they were so afraid of this kind of sadness. Could he trust Luk not to do that to him? Or himself not to do it to Luk?

He brushed the worries off, to be unearthed later when Arthur wasn't under their care. Nevertheless, he thought, when Arthur was gone, perhaps he'd cling to Lukas a little tighter.

"Tea will be ready in a minute," he said as the other two settled. He brought the empty mugs over to the table, then the teapot–two-handed, but hurriedly and slightly painfully from the heat permeating the glass. It was set down next to the sandwiches as gently as he could manage, then he quickly retrieved his hand to blow on the stinging skin as he took the seat closest to him. He shook his hand out, and glanced between Arthur and Luk. "Eat some," he finally said, nodding at the assortment of sliced sandwiches and chips on the table. There were even a couple of cinnamon rolls (undoubtedly Luk's idea). "There's no reason to torture yourself for him, y'know? What you gotta do is eat well, and have fun, aaand rub it in his face that he isn't shit."

He fell quiet for a moment, teeth catching the inside of his lip. He wasn't good at this whole thing–comforting people, especially never really having had it this bad himself. Could anyone really say they were good at it? It seemed like everyone was always at a loss for words when they were faced with grief, knowing that words could only do so much. It certainly couldn't heal the wounds that begged for attention. Mihai hated these situations. Having friends who had emotions and felt things sucked.

Finally, he sighed. "Look, we won't try to pressure you into anything, but we obviously can't leave you alone, 'cause you're killing yourself out there, and… I don't know if getting it off your chest is what you need, but if it is, we'll listen," he offered, glancing at Luk for cues. "And if you wanna get drunk or high and watch The Princess Bride or anything, that's also cool. We have, like, three tubs of ice cream that you can binge on. Oh–but if you're in a vengeful mood, I printed out instructions from the internet on how to make a voodoo doll, which I, uh, highly recommend testing out. Anything that doesn't involve you trying to be a Buddhist monk reaching Nirvana."

---

Lukas Iversen : I'm awful lol

[Lukas Iversen]

The look Arthur gave him made his insides twist with a mixture of guilt and anger and sympathy. There was nothing he could do to change his own lack of action in the past, but he could make sure his friend had everything he needed from now on. His anger he could take out on Francis, at some point. But Arthur if anything was a prideful person, that was probably one of the reasons the breakup had hit him so hard, and so he wouldn’t let the pity show on his face. Instead, he gave Arthur’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze and let them to the kitchen table. “You’ll feel better with some food in you,” he assured.

As they sat down and Mihai made promises of tea, he wondered if this was really all he could offer. A warm space, food, and company of well-meaning but slightly fumbling friends. This was a completely new situation for him; he had no similar experiences himself. And as far as he knew, neither did Mihai. It felt like if he just managed to say the right thing, Arthur would get better. But he didn’t have any idea what that right thing was. His people skills had never been something to be proud of. He watched as Mi poured them tea, uttering a warning of ‘careful’ that apparently fell on deaf ears, yet he suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, grateful to Mi for taking over the conversation.

"There's no reason to torture yourself for him, y'know? What you gotta do is eat well, and have fun, aaand rub it in his face that he isn't shit."

He wrapped his hands around his cup and gave an affirmative nod. “Mi’s right. He isn’t worth it.” It was much easier to bounce off someone else’s words, he found. “You deserve better.”

Turned out that Mihai wasn’t sure what to say or do, either, when a heavy silence fell between them. Usually, such lulls in conversation (could this really counted as one?) didn’t bother him, but now he found himself desperately looking for words. He had prepared for awkwardness, but the frustration was something unexpected and it hit him harder than he would have anticipated. He considered Arthur one of his dearest friends, yet he didn’t even know what to do to help him. He brought his hand back to Arthur’s shoulder, trying to be reassuring though the gesture felt empty in the face of his friend’s depression.

"Look, we won't try to pressure you into anything, but we obviously can't leave you alone, 'cause you're killing yourself out there, and… I don't know if getting it off your chest is what you need, but if it is, we'll listen.”

When Mi glanced at him, he reached beneath the table to press his foot against the other’s leg in a silent encouragement to go on. Mihai was right; they were genuinely worried for Arthur. That’s why they’d intervened in the first place. Arthur might have not tried to actively hurt himself, god he hoped so, but letting himself slowly waste away was hardly any better.

“–but if you're in a vengeful mood, I printed out instructions from the internet on how to make a voodoo doll, which I, uh, highly recommend testing out. Anything that doesn't involve you trying to be a Buddhist monk reaching Nirvana."

At the last part, he gave Mihai a subtle look of ‘really?’, though if it worked at lifting Arthur’s spirits even a little he supposed it was worth a try. “What he’s saying,” he said, turning to Arthur. “Is that if there’s anything you need, or want… let us know. We’re here to help.” He paused for a moment, considering. ”We know you might just want to be left alone but… If you want to stick around, you’re welcome to.” And this time it was his turn to look at Mihai for the go-ahead. “For as long as you want to.” It was an offer he felt came out of necessity, but one that they hadn’t discussed beforehand. He hoped that were Arthur to accept, Mihai wouldn’t grudge him the interruption of their domestic life. Considering Arthur’s sorry state, he doubted he would.

---

Arthur Kirkland