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Arthur entered the kitchen that morning, to Susan and Owen moving through it like a storm, packing their lunches and throwing on their jackets and bookbags as if in an incredible rush. Arthur watched it with bemusement.
This was unusual.
“Hey Arthur!” Susan greeted him, putting effort into not using any of the many nicknames she had found for him. He absolutely hated them
“Mom has a terrible migraine so we’re kinda late, I’ll cook later!” with that she was out the door rushing after her brother.
Arthur watched the door slam shut and looked around the kitchen. Nothing looked the way it usually did. Utensils on the counter, bread left open to dry out- He took the paper bag and shoved the bread back into it, then took all the clutter and put it in the sink. He wiped down the counter and hte dining table, then washed the dishes and looked out the window. He was beginning to understand why Silvia always looked out the window when she was cleaning the dishes.
The view was beautiful.
With nothing left to do he filled up a glass of water and slowly made his way upstairs. He knew what migraines were like, how they could ruin an entire day. He hadn't had any in a while, still he remembered the intense pain behind his eyes.
Quietly he knocked at Sylvia’s bedroom door, almost expecting her to be asleep. She grunted a near inaudible “Yes?” when he was about to turn away again.
Quietly he pressed down the door handle to open the door, made sure he did it slowly so the light from the hallway wouldn’t be too overwhelming. As he had expected, Sylvia had all the curtains closed and blocked out the lights as efficiently as possible.
“Hey.” he whispered. “Susan mentioned you have a migraine- I” he looked at the glass of water in his hand, only to see someone else had already placed one on the nightstand. “Oh- I didn’t mean to bother you unnecessarily.”
Sylvia snorted. “Thank you anyway. You’re kind.”
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at that and set the glass down on the nightstand. He wasn’t kind.
When he was about to leave she grabbed his sleeve. A few months ago that action would’ve made him jump, but she was now the only person in the world he trusted with his life and he turned around to face her again.
“Did the kids leave in time?”
Arthur nodded, settling down on the edge of the bed. “Yeah.”
“Wish i could’ve warned you, but these things hardly ever come with a warning.”
He sighed. “I know.”
Her smile made the room feel warmer. “Yeah, you do.”
“Do you need anything?” He asked her then, suddenly feeling out of place in this situation. He wasn’t used to taking care of anyone. But she had taken care of him for so long, he wanted to return the favor.
“Can you get my satchel?” she asked him.
He nodded again, already figuring that she was looking for something to get rid of the pain she was in.
When he left she huddled further into the blankets with a groan. She had pretended to feel better than she actually was. It was almost funny to see her do the same things he did constantly.
He returned to the room several minutes later and she carefully looked through her satchel until she found what she needed. Arthur couldn’t discern what it was, but she poured it into one of the glasses of water and started drinking from it.
“I’ll get a little woozy after this.” She explained. “But it’ll get rid of the pain in an hour or two.”
He nodded firmly. “Should I-” he stopped himself, unsure if the words that were about to leave his mouth were the right ones to say.
“If you wanna stay here just close the door- the light is awful.”
He closed the door, settled on the empty side of the bed and curled up on top of the blanket. “You can use that, you know, you don’t have to freeze.” Sylvia muttered.
Arthur crawled under the blanket at it, feeling her warmth close. His heart was pounding, if from anxiety or something else, he couldn’t tell. It was terrifying in a way, but also comforting.
Her quiet chuckle made him frown. “The first night after we met, this was reversed, remember?”
“I do.” he muttered, although his memories of the first week after meeting her were hazy at best. He had been sick as a dog, there wasn’t much he could still piece together a part of him being terrified out of his mind that she was trying to kill him.
“You know, Arthur,” She mumbled then, likely on the verge of falling asleep, “I really do love you.”
His eyes went wide as he stared at the ceiling, clutching the blanket to his chest and willing his heart to stop racing. “Wh-wha did you just say?”
She only chuckled, not giving him any answer.