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Sometimes Arthur liked to just look at George, observe him living, interacting with their friends, his laughter filling the space. Sometimes Arthur wondered how everyone wasn’t in love with George, how his effervescent life hadn’t trapped everyone he’d ever met, how this love that he carried with him everywhere hadn’t seemed to rub off on anyone else quite as much as it had done on Arthur.
Because that was it…love seemed implicit in George.
Love was one of the things that made George… George; humour, courage, stupidity in frankly concerning amounts, and love. Take away any of them and you wouldn’t have George, but take away love and Arthur thought there might not be anything at all.
It could get a little overwhelming sometimes if you focused on it, love in simple looks, love in knowing when to ask if he was ok, love in minuscule touches to reposition Arthur from in front of a draw in the kitchen, love in his arms wrapping around him and holding tight after a long day, love in the certainty of George ordering Arthur’s drink, no hesitation, ten minutes ago which has sent him spiralling thinking about love and George.
It shouldn’t have surprised him this much, that George just knew that Arthur didn’t want his normal drink today yet something about him knowing, without checking or even really looking back at him to make sure - that certain in his words - has reminded Arthur of how they know each other.
Saying they know each other is so off-hand until it really isn’t and George knows what mood Arthur is in before he even knows himself and Arthur is so completely fucked thinking about that and before they’ve even sat down that he stumbles and nearly falls on the walk from the bar to the table. Something that would have been embarrassing if it wasn’t for the way George balances him with a hand on his waist, the way George shoots him a soft smile, whispering ‘Careful Arth’ in that stupid gentle voice reserved for him before offering him the choice of seats at the table their friends had pointed out when they walked in.
George and Arthur know each other in a way Arthur had thought was made up, a physiological impossibility but somehow the combination of his hyper awareness of George’s actions and George’s own attentiveness to Arthur’s emotions has made them this intertwined pair that somehow just get each other easily. It’s something Arthur has, and will, get emotional about but for now he is content to sit, zone out slightly from the rest of the table and just focus on George.
George and his impossibly bright smile, wide eyes and excitement to see his friends again. George and his gentle mouth which moves wickedly as he spins a story which has the rest of the table laughing. George and his infinite love for all people in his life, but especially for Arthur. He feels it so deeply today, tucked into this corner of the table, half listening, half not to his voice.
So yes, he is surprised when people aren’t trapped by George and his love, because he gives it out so freely, so openly, that Arthur often finds himself able to think of nothing else. It’s so all encompassing, so pure and strong that it leaves little space for any other feeling. His love filled every space he inhabited, leaving everyone just that little bit more enamoured,
And sure maybe Arthur’s never been very good at casual but now when someone mentions love, he thinks of George