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Arthur watched Eleanor from afar. They had not really spoken for a few weeks now, passing by each other in the mall, not quite strangers, not quite siblings. Sometimes Eleanor flinched when he spoke, and it tore Arthur to pieces. And still he could not bring himself to speak with her directly.
Until the Drifter beat some sense into his head.
Arthur rubbed the back of his head and made a few uncertain steps down the mall’s wide hallway. It was his bloody sister.
He had a memory burning at the back of his skull, when he would come to her after a long day back home, in younger days. She would light her candles, filling the room with the overly sweet scent, bring out her make up cases. The eyeshadow would glitter in the candle light, and she would arm herself with a brush and say, “Ready to be all prettied-up, Arthur?”
He laughed and closed his eyes and let her do the work on his face. Somehow, he always left her room looking better than before.
Arthur sighed. It was a memory too distant, falling apart like sand between his fingers. But the Drifter's words were ringing in his head. Go talk to her.
So he did.
“Eleanor?”
She was sitting cross legged on the sofa. That old memory sprang in his mind again, but now instead of candles, there were wisps of strange light about her, and the room seemed filled with whispers of something far too tangible to his liking.
“Well hello, Arthur. To what do I owe your visit?”
Her words, that he so hopefully expected to hear ringing through the room, instead echoed in his mind.
“How are you doing?”
He could not meet her eyes until she caught his gaze with a piercing stare from glowing eyes.
“Really?”
Arthur laughed and walked towards her, his legs slightly trembling with relief. Then he sat on the floor beside her, and leaned on one arm against the couch, propping his head.
“What's up, Eleanor?”
She eyed him for a moment, almost suspicious. Then, she turned and plucked a sequin-covered case from beneath a pillow.
“Don't ask,” she warned him, unzipping the case. “I found it under one of the counters and as we are now all but in possession of this establishment, I decided it’s mine.”
“I wasn't going to ask anyway.”
Arthur tipped his face to his sister and felt the soft brush dust the skin over the eyelid, playful and a little accusatory.
“Do you remember how I did your make up for your first date?”
“How could I forget? Didn't look half bloody hideous as I'd expected to.”
“You should have more faith in me.”
“I have all of my faith in you, Eleanor.”
Arthur couldn't see her, but he felt Eleanor's presence swipe his mind. There was a need for answers in that connection. It was fleeting and lighting-like, and he couldn’t hold on to it long enough to keep it in place.
Even so, despite the Rot, she was a part of him, always, as his twin. She had a home in him. Arthur opened up his mind for her, frightened to do it so boldly, but he knew it was necessary.
As she looked at Arthur, he could see tiny twinkling tears in the corners of her eyes. Relief, too, touched her.
They didn’t need to speak to know something was decided to be mended, and thus they sat in silence for a little while as Eleanor put make up on Arthur’s eyes.
“So… When are you going to ask them?”
He felt her voice and then a sense of sweet laughter. They were like teens again, when she pried and pried about his near non-existent dating life.
“Who?”
“Don't play coy with me.”
Arthur sighed and pressed his lips together. He wasn't entirely oblivious. The Drifter's advances, their flirtations and those adorable eyes were taking roots in his mind and heart. And they made him talk to Eleanor, so maybe they weren’t half bad.
Eleanor’s brush pressed a cool powdery dusting against Arthur’s eyelids.
“Well?”
“I’m not sure they even feel the same way.”
He could feel Eleanor’s eyes rolling with his own closed.
“Oh, don’t tell me. Whatever you’ve seen in their mind, I don’t know if I want to know.”
“Neither did I, but I couldn’t help it.”
She tickled his nose with another brush and Arthur laughed, then sneezed.
“All I’m saying is, don’t hesitate when it happens.”
Arthur sighed. Eleanor’s cryptic words were a strangely comforting reassurance. He was playing coy, saying he didn’t know how the Drifter felt. They warned him they were interested and that he was in quite a danger of their affection. But every time they said so, every time they flirted, every time they as much as looked at him, Arthur couldn’t help but feel his guts twist and fall into a pit. Right next to all his hopes and dreams, next to Christopher’s memories, next to all that he had once held dear and all that burnt up in ashes of Techrot.
He swallowed.
Eleanor tapped his cheek and he opened his eyes.
“It doesn’t have to be like that.”
“But it will be, won’t it? It always bloody ends. I can’t… I can’t take the heartbreak again.”
Eleanor looked at him, and her eyes, those glowing eyes, and her voice, tangled around his chest and pulled and tugged in all directions. He was not prone to panic in public, and was not about to start now, but the sense of despair was too much to deal with.
Of course he fucking liked the Drifter. They waltzed into his life, their life. Saved him over and over. Made him laugh at the most stupid jokes. Made him care. Made him care so deeply, it hurt.
“Allow yourself to be happy, brother. And me.”
Arthur breathed in, then out. He rested his head against the plush couch seat as Eleanor finished her work on his face.
“Is it really something we could have?”
“Worth a try,” Eleanor sighed. “The Drifter… They’re different. They changed us. And I haven’t heard you laugh like that since…”
She could not finish the sentence, dropping words to a wistful sigh, and Arthur gently patted her arm.
As she collected herself, Eleanor offered him up a small mirror set in a plastic case with fake glitter. In that tiny round window he saw himself and quietly laughed. His eyes were shaded dark, making him look quite expressive.
“Back to the roots.”
“You never left them, brother. All that emo…”
Arthur pushed her away into the couch, and Eleanor laughed, the sound ringing like a chime in his mind.
“Now go show yourself off to the Drifter. I’ll be all ears.”
“Oh so you can make bloody fun of me?”
“Faith, Arthur. Faith in my work.”
“All of it,” he echoed, smiling at his sister.