Chapter Text
Arthur always thought of himself as a miserable old man,
even in his mid thirties.
There was few things he liked about himself, physically and mentally.
If you asked him what he thought of himself,
he’d reply with “i don’t know, normal, i guess?”
but truth be told, he thought very lowly about himself.
He hated the way his body looked, he thought he looked ridiculous
with so much muscle but so little fat.
He hated his nose,
his mouth,
his jaw,
his eyes (he figured they were too small).
Mostly, he hated how pale he was, he thought that he looked ill most of the time.
He didn’t mind his hair,
somedays he liked it, even.
He didn’t mind his voice either
but he also figured that he spoke funny, he wasn’t a fan of his accent at all.
He hated the chip in his front tooth, the scar on his chin.
You didn’t have to know him very well to figure out that he disliked most things in general.
He hated his job,
his boss,
his colleagues.
He hated his neighbours and their loud dogs.
He hated pop music, re-heated spaghetti, sand, tomatoes, corn, knitted sweaters, loud noises, sweating,
He hated the news guy on tv, strawberry milk, pies and romance books.
He hated swifties, talking on the phone, videogames, politics, ads, overalls, cold cabins, swamps, he could go on for ages about what he didn’t like or just straight up hated.
Surely you’ve now figured out why he saw himself as a “miserable old man”.
As negative as he was, he found it hard to believe that a man like him ended up with someone as perfect as Charles Smith.
He was the opposite of everything Arthur disliked.
Charles was quiet but not shy,
he cared but not about stupid things.
Charles was soft, something Arthur had believed his whole life that he wasn’t allowed to have.
Every morning when he woke up with the long haired man beside him, he was in awe.
The man he’d been so hopelessly in love with ever since they met at Jake and Sadie’s wedding, was now asleep with an arm draped over Arthur’s hips, actually choosing to stay.
He laid there for a while, staring out the window next to their bed.
Their apartment was small but it fit them perfectly.
Arthur tore his eyes away from the soft lights outside, his gaze travelling over Charles sleeping face and then to the kitchen visible through the gap in the bedroom door.
He felt a rumble in his stomach, he’d forgotten to eat dinner the night before, stumbling home around 10pm from work, he’d just wanted to go to bed.
He snaked his arm out from underneath Charles who stirred slightly but fell right back asleep, he’d always been a heavy sleeper, thank god.
He sat on the edge of their bed for a bit, thinking.
Not about anything in particular, just letting his mind roam freely over anything it could reach.
He thought about John and Abigail, his mind wandering over their newly bought house, a nice one-story house right outside town.
He thought about Sadie and how he should probably call her and ask how she likes her new job, she recently finished studying to become a cop.
Though, as previously mentioned, he hated phonecalls.
He thought about something his colleague had told him the night before,
“You should really cheer up a bit, Morgan, it could be worse.”,
She’d said while wiping down the bar in the saloon they worked at while Arthur was getting ready to clock out.
He hadn’t replied, he’d just muttered something about “good night, Karen” and “see you monday”.
He cringed a little, looking back. He hadn’t meant to be rude, (for once).
He’d just been tired and missed Charles, he’d just wanted to go home and fall asleep.
it had bothered him, what she said, because he knew it was true, he should cheer up, it could be worse.
Charles shifting in his sleep snapped Arthur back to reality, taking a deep breath before standing up and pulling a shirt on the floor over his head before walking to the bathroom.
He stared at his reflection for a solid 2 minutes before he washed his face to wake up properly and went back to the bedroom to find a pair of trousers to put on.
He looked at the shorts he’d bought the other day, then out the window.
It was raining, there was no way in hell he was wearing shorts in this weather.
He ended up wearing the usual jeans and a brown flannel,
no point in trying to be someone he wasn’t.
———
The oatmeal he’d prepared spun slowly in the microwave, the soft hum from it was soothing in a way he couldn’t quite explain.
He leaned back against the wooden counter beside the microwave and took out his phone to see if he’d missed anything important.
An instagram meme from John
“user9947721883 has liked your tweet”
a snap from the groupchat John had made him join
a “Dad has reacted ‘👍’ to your message” notification from his father Hosea.
He ended up opening the snap, it was a picture of a huge muskie that Javier had caught the night before while fishing with Micah.
He scoffed quietly in amusement at the thought of Javier and Micah actually getting along.
Usually they were at each others throats all day everyday, truly a roommate match made in hell, but since neither of them could afford to live alone, they’d just ended up with a tiny apartment over the coffee shop his friend Tilly worked at.
The beep from the microwave snapped him back to reality once again, along with a very tired Charles walking in to the kitchen, wearing sweatpants.
“mornin’” Arthur said, not very discreetly checking out the long-haired man in front of him.
“good morning” Charles yawned and stretched his arms above his head before scratching his chest and going to grab something to eat from the fridge.
Arthur took the oatmeal from the microwave, grabbed a spoon from the sink and leaned against the counter,
staring at the painting across the room he’d made a couple weeks ago that Charles insisted they’d frame.
Neither of them spoke, they didn’t have to.
Charles just prepared some kind of smoothie, grunting in annoyance when his hair kept falling in front of his face.
Arthur didn’t say anything, just grabbed a hairtie that rested on the kitchen, handing it to Charles, the corners of his mouth tilting up slightly. He put his hair up before continuing with his smoothie.
Arthur stirred in the bowl of dry oatmeal, he should’ve added more water.
It was quiet mornings like these that made Arthur a little less angry at the world.
The gentle ticking of the clock over the bedroom door, the warmth from
the sun peaking through the window, hitting his arms.
He knew he’d be okay.