Author's Note: There will be some mild bondage in this chapter.
***
Arthur thought he knew how to keep things to himself, and that's what he decided to do. Don't say anything. Don't do anything. Just continue to exist as if nothing weird happened. He often told himself, "A bartender might've cut himself. Maybe a maid got a nosebleed. It's nothing. Blood isn't a big deal."
But one day, Benny brought home a scrap of a handkerchief, and not only was it bloody, but there were a few short brown hairs stuck to them, along with some wiry hairs of a similar color. Something about these hairs itched in Arthur's brain. He couldn't figure out the reason why. This made him have quiet mental fits where he rubbed his teeth together, stared at nothing, had twitching fingers, and wondered what the fuck was going on.
One night, Vince gave him the longest massage yet, simply because he was that tense. Since that didn't work, Vince lightly slapped his back and said, "Okay, you need a drink. Now. Come on!"
That seemed pretty harmless, so Arthur walked with him to a bar. He assumed he'd be pressured into taking a glass of something and then given lots of snacks while Vince did the real drinking. At the bar, while some really terrible action film was being played on a nearby TV screen, Arthur watched the bartender do stuff that looked like juggling, shaking, and maybe some alchemy. The resulting beverage was something with caramel, whipped cream, and a damn cookie. Arthur hated it because he could still taste the alcohol, and all the sweet stuff seemed to be ruined by it. He couldn't blame the bartender. Arthur just didn't like alcoholic beverages. He just took a bowl of popcorn and enjoyed it much more.
Vince was sipping from a cup of something iced and severe. He was in a good mood, laughing at the TV and playfully touching Arthur whenever possible, lightly punching his arm, shaking his shoulder, flicking his ear, silly friendly things. It wasn't disagreeable. It made Arthur feel like everything was normal and happy.
Suddenly, he put an arm around Arthur's shoulder and said, "You really should learn to drink more often. It's good for the heart!"
"Probably not good for the liver," Arthur said after swallowing another crunchy handful of popcorn.
"Well yeah ... if you drink too much ... all the time." Vince did something almost creepy then. He took a huge whiff of Arthur's hair. Now, he'd done that sort of thing before, and there's nothing wrong with wanting to smell your spouse's hair, but Vince was so blunt, loud, and uncaring of the bartender on duty that Arthur had to resist the advance. With a frown, he pushed Vince's face away and pulled his arm off.
"You're getting drunk again," Arthur said.
"So what?" Vince then put in a fruity, icy, sugary drink order.
Arthur gave him a confused look. "You're not a fruity kind of guy. What's up?"
As the bartender made the drink, Vince said, "It's for you."
Rolling his eyes, Arthur wiped his fingertips with a napkin. "I don't want anymore. One drink's enough for me."
"Oh come on!" Vince was starting to look a little more bronze in his face, a red sort of bronze. "Life's not fun if nobody's living it with you!"
"Whatever that means, it doesn't apply here." Arthur got out of his bar stool. "You can drink that gay ass fruit smoothie. I don't want it."
Vince looked pouty for a minute, and he reached back to tug on his own ponytail. "Just what about the drink is gay?"
"It's gayer than me," Arthur said with a sneer.
"Alright, alright. I'll drink it for you, but let's do something else together after that." Just then, the bartender gave him the plushy beverage. It looked like the stuff Arthur had seen tanned women drink at bars on their honeymoon.
Arthur turned around. "I'm going to play video games."
Slapping the bar top with his palm, Vince barked out, "Sit right back where you belong!"
Where ... belong ...?
It was like ice had been dragged up Arthur's spine, and he remembered the frightening events with What's-Her-Name. He felt intimidated, even threatened, but he didn't know how to prove it. He looked at his feet and sat back in his bar stool, next to Vince.
Next to Vince, where he apparently belonged?
Or where Vince thought he belonged.
The way he'd said that ... with such fire, such dark passion ...
Arthur was given a bowl of chips and a glass of ginger ale to nurse while Vince got more and more drunk. When Vince was slightly wobbly, a cold meat and cheese sandwich in his hand, he said he wanted to watch Arthur play some games. So, Arthur put a hand on his arm and practically walked him out of the bar. Inside Arthur's room, he settled Vince in an armchair and turned on his TV and linked console. Then he asked Vince, "Do you want some more snacks?"
Vince nodded and said, "Veggie sticks, hummus and crackers, and sugar free lemonade!!"
"Okay." Arthur left him alone as he went off to find these things. He had to get a damn tray to carry it all. When Vince had all his snacks and lemonade set up, Arthur sat beside him and started playing an online game. He had his headphones and microphone, but Vince was close enough to hear whatever he heard.
It was an M-rated game. No little children allowed. Bloody violence, nudity, and the oh so dangerous curse words that would enrage some parents. Vince laughed and cheered while Arthur shot and stabbed some people. Eventually, though Arthur encountered a player who certainly had his mic too ... and he sounded like he hadn't started puberty yet. Vince gripped Arthur's shoulder and asked, "Isn't this an adult's game?"
"Yeah, I think so," Arthur said as the other player starting bragging a lot, using curse words that didn't really suit him.
Vince gulped down some of his food and said, "If you can kill him, do it. I'm tired of his stupid shit."
"Whatever." Arthur shot the other player right in the head, making that player disappear to a respawn point.
Cue underage screeching that made Arthur slip his headphones off for a moment. He cringed hard, and so did Vince.
"Fuck," Vince said with pure disgust, "it's just a god damn game."
"Well, it's fine to yell and cuss and stuff," Arthur said. "I do it all the time."
"But he sounds like nails on a chalkboard." Vince took a sip of lemonade.
Both men were suddenly very quiet, because they heard something unbelievable. Vince even leaned in to get his ear closer to the headphones Arthur held.
"These faggots are hacking me!!" That was the player.
Then some shuffling noises, and a new voice. Someone else had the other player's headphones.
"Alright," said a man's voice, "why are you hacking my son's game?"
Vince snorted and flapped his fingers at Arthur. "Give me the god damn headphones. I feel like owning a bitch."
"No way, you're drunk," Arthur said, but Vince took the headphones out of his fingers regardless.
Vince arranged the headphones on his head as if it was natural, and he adjusted the mic. Then he said with friendly words, "Hi there. I wasn't the one playing, but I was watching. Nice to meet you."
Arthur leaned in, listening as Vince held a single ear pad out to make it easier.
