Chapter Text
The mornings drove harsh tides. The mix of farm and school life blended in such an uneasy way. Crashing and stilling crashing and stilling- If the art teacher was allowed to breathe just for a moment maybe it wouldn't feel so bad, but like his old man once said "complaining got you no where" . In the traditional sense, that sounded like tough love or an excuse for work to be done faster. Arthur was known to follow orders blindly, made him committed and loyal but also dumbly loyal enough to run himself dry. He should really stop feeling sorry for himself.
"I messed up." One of his students called out. Little beads of water hung from her eyes. Frustration is clear and true. Some of the other students giggled, but his slicing glare shut their traps right up.
What he saw was a stunning replica of the field outside. To a 12 year old, they would bear it similar to a Monet artwork, like one of his ponds or Spring pieces. To Arthur, it was a beautiful interpretation of what the artist saw, no need for comparisons. Then there was an imposing green line where the girl tried to wipe away with light blue paint but ended up creating a larger blue green splotch.
He also saw the tentive green on her hands, almost drawing again onto the canvas where the girl tried to press down again with the brush.
"Hey, it's not half bad. It just needs a few touch-ups when it's dry. See if you start from the top, your hands won't smudge the rest of the artwork." Gently, he took a cloth from the basin and motioned her to them. Ever the more gentle, he cleaned them.
The girl nodded ,her eyes easing from the storm in her head. Tears fell but no more caught up to the fallen. She reminded him of John at her age, always frustrated at the little things he couldn't do right, and would try to fix them, bringing even more tears. It was always his or Hosea's job to cool the rising storm. A smile tugged his lips.
"See, no need to fuss. You're doing great."
Arthur tried to assure her, just like how Hosea would. Be gentle with water, and there won't be any more mess.
The bell rang for the last time that day. There was relief in his heart, but his mind already brewed the dread of what still needed to be done. Those damn drama productions are going to be the death of him, and what do you know!
They need a new setup.
"Thank you, Mr Matthews. I'll finish it tomorrow!" The girl beamed, quickly running across the room securing her painting on the drying rack, and just as quickly did she bolt with the other students out his classroom.
Silence once more. Cognitive in its ways, soothing a hurting head Arthur found trouble in everyday. Where were painkillers when you needed them? Maybe a stroll outside would sooth it even more, breathe in the fresh air. Hear the birds calling in the trees.
Yeah, that would do.
The hall was the same as before. A stretch of grey tile and blue lockers keep him company. And like before, Arthur recognized one of the boys from the fight a week ago sitting on a chair outside the principal's office. He had some bird name Arthur couldn't remember. What was it... Sparrow? Robin? Eagle...yes Eagle Flies!
The teacher sighed,"What got you into trouble this time?"
"Punched too hard."
"Did you win?"
"Yeah."
The boy didn't look up. His half closed eye fixed on the floor while the other was covered by an aching bruise. The kid looked like her ran through hail and storm. Certainly hackled by guilt or possibly rage.
Mustering an odd look himself, Arthur said,
"Come on, I'll tell Miss Grimshaw you're helping me with productions."
He really was going to stick a post-it note and call it a day. That woman was through with his formalities ever since he came to this school 9 years ago. Man, he was getting old.
"You teach drama?"
Arthur finally saw the color of the boy's eyes. Black and dark. A fierce juxtaposition with his half closed eye. At the same time, it told a story the teenager is not willing to tell while displaying a mask that is slowly withering as time ages. It's the same mask Arthur wears; cold and metallic, and the teacher had to respect that. It's seldom Arthur gets to see a mask he recognized.
"The set up but's all the same when you have to pretend accepting more requests with a happy face."
"Then why do it?"
And with that, Arthur frowned.
"I should be asking you that. Why do you pick fights and punch too hard?"
The pause sharp. Uncomfortable at the chest, even worse, so at the mouth. The teenager frowned, conflicted, if Arthur could call it that.
"I don't know." Eagle Flies croaked. "I felt I needed to."
"Ok." Was all Arthur could say.
The pause is blunt but still hanging. It became awkward the more Eagle Flies swung his legs back and forth, and in due time, Christmas would be around the corner.
"We going to my class yes or no?" Arthur finally said, annoyance tagged in his throat even though he couldn't help it. He still felt a heap bad saying it like that. A small wish for his sister, Tilly to help, but college surely wouldn't let her.
"Yea, I didn't feel like hearing another rule on punctuality." Eagle Flies got up from the chair with a wince. The hands held what was hurting. His chest and stomach from what Arthur gathered.
"Why is that woman even here? A retirement home would do her some good"
Eagle sighed, walking slowly behind Arthur.
"Careful now, I've heard she has superior hearing."
"You're just saying that."
"You haven't seen the worst of it yet, kid." Arthur chuckled.
____________________________
Arthur didn't know if his body felt betrayed for the 28 years it had to put out with him, or was it that mental strain Hosea was talking about. He didn't know that either. He did know that his knees ached more than yesterday, and he'd just have to deal with it like any other day.
"Ow my knees." He said, uncrouching; paint plastered up on his hands as he got up to a more comfortable position; sitting on the floor seemed to do the trick for his aching legs.
The cardboard tree looked about done, he hoped. It's been a while since he could focus on anything but trees for the past 3 hours.
"Tsk old people." Eagle Flies muttered. A small twinkle in his one eye as he hid behind a set of cardboard tree branches . His hands slowly maneuvered around them, leading stroke upon stroke of brown paint with a large paint brush. When he deemed it good enough, he went to find the art teacher in the messy array of cardboard scrap.
Eagle Flies walked along the many cardboard structures that hopefully would turn into bushes and more trees. He then met at the tree Arthur was currently working on.
"You'll regret saying that when you're older." Arthur said, dusting his hands from the imagery dust. The brown paint feeling gritty the more it dried on his hands.
"And you greyer." Eagle Flies bit back, crouching down to sit on the floor beside Arthur. He looked better, not physically but better after avoiding Miss Grimshaw or whatever else he felt threatened to start a fight with. There was a cheeky smile, and all else seemed to fall away, leaving Eagle Flies without a metallic mask.
Oh, this kid would be a good poet, a funny one at that. Arthur thought.
"Dang kid, you drive a hard bargain." Arthur handed the teen a bigger brush. The pair finished painting the brown of the tree, and just when they were about to get to the green, they heard footsteps.
The foot steps, too heavy and too fast to be Old Uncle, echoed in the hallway, drawing closer and closer until finally they entered through the classroom door. The stranger was panting heavily, Arthur looked up to see what all the fuss was about, and oh-
Charles Smith was no stranger.
What a sight he was. Tall and handsome. A tank top hugged his waist in all the right places. His face ever slightly scrunched in anger, maybe worry, a bit of both, perhaps.
His eyes darted everywhere. When they found Eagle Flies, it scrunched more.
When they found Arthur, -well he couldn't describe it. Though they did linger.
"There you are...oh hi." Charles called out. Voice slowly dropping. Gentle. Eyes still lingering. Arthur wouldn't lie and say his eyes didn't either.
Charles had his hair in a plait, which was odd because he always hated doing it. Kid Charles always fussed until eventually he would let it loose and falling. Like a loop, he would get annoyed that it was down and in his eyes; tying it all up again.
Right now, this Charles was more worried about other things and not about his hair.
"Can you guys stop eye fucking eachother, it's weird and I want to go home." Eagle Flies said somehow standing at the door beside Charles.
He couldn't have been monologuing that long? Right?
"I- we- what!?" Charles stammered, twisting his head around to where Eagle Flies walked down the hallway.
"Forget I ever said anything!" The teen yelled once more before he disappeared behind a corner.
"We are going to have a talk in the car!" Charles yelled back.
"Arthur." Charles said much more quieter, looking back at the art teacher he gave a small salute and left Arthur sitting on the floor with a dumb fake tree.
"Hey wait up I'll walk with ye."
Getting up quickly and painstakingly struggling to lock the stupid bloody door of the art classroom- Arthur ran ahead to meet Charles in the hallway.
Was he always this tall? Arthur thought. Or did he never notice before. It's easy to spot the differences after such a long time. Charles's smile lines did not twitch up as much. His eyes weren't their usual brown, just more shallow, almost black. Maybe it was the moonlight coming in through the far window, but Arthur was certain- Charles was sadder, wearing a melancholy vail.
It made him feel guilty that he didn't keep in contact, then the changes would not have been so drastically disparate. In some instances he sort of forgot about him, now seeing Charles as something new. It's kind of haunting.
An old watch with a glass sheen that never truly lost its value but with new cogs installed.
Though Charles was more a boxing glove, all soft to the touch inside but hard and firm on the outside. He wishes he knew him more but you could only know so much from a book with ripped pages.
"Oh sure." Charles murmured, "Car is close luckily."
The time taken to get to Charles's car was short. Too short. Arthur could feel the cool breeze of the night air on his neck as the pair existed the school and entered into the parking lot. A green pickup truck sat alone under the rays of one the night lights that still worked; flickering slightly.
The two burly men stood a good distance away from the pickup, glancing at Eagle Flies bored out of his mind in the passenger seat.
"An art teacher, I never thought I'd see the day." Charles laughed, hiding his face behind his hand.
"Oh? Well, Miss Grimshaw took it seriously." Arthur said, flailing his arms about, like he couldn't believe it either. He really didn't.
"One day, I was fetching Tilly from school, and the old crow was waiting for me. I've never been so relieved and terrified in my life, Charles! I've put up with her for 10 years more!" Arthur yelled, his voice dancing in the empty parking lot. The taller man allowed his smile lines to perk up.
"Apparently - hey, don't look at me like that!" Giggling, Arthur nudged the slightly taller man with his shoulder, but to no avail when said taller man was built like a brick wall. Well, the brick wall was amused, and Arthur was happy with that.
"Well, I'ma herbalist." Charles said, monotone as always. His arms crossed over; a statue cold and features carved. Carving into an image Arthur could not put together.
Arthur was stunned.
"And a herbalist, I thought you you were heading to the big leagues." Arthur says seeing, the muscular arms unfurl, Charles's right hand leaned into the light. Revealing a deep scar, the hand shook due to some nerve damage, making Arthur's heart ache with guilt. And an image of Charles in boxing gloves raided his vision.
"A fucked up hand kinda does that to you. Hey but I like helping people. So a loss and a win I could say." Charles smiled, cooling off the initial guilt Arthur found himself in.
"Aw, you big softie." The words fell easily off Arthur's tongue.
"I could say the same about you." Charles said it just as easily.
HONK HOOOONK
"Are y'all done? I want to go home!" Eagle Flies' shrill voice was muffled behind the car windows.
"Quiet! I'll be there in a second!" Charles yelled over his shoulder.
"A bit of a firecracker that one." Arthur laughed.
"You can say that again. I'll take 50 for him to get him off my hands."
"Hey, I heard that!" The teen fussed more over the steering wheel.
"Good!" Charles doubted the teen would hear that remark, though he would agree it's getting late. With a last look to his long lost friend, he makes his leave towards his car.
"Anyway, it's good to see you, Arthur."
"Likewise Charlie."
"Hey, I thought we left that back at camp."
"How could I forget about it."
How could he... his phone rings and Mary was not the name he wanted to remember. Though he did pick up.
He really shouldn't have.
"Arthur we need to talk..."