Healing the Quiet [Arden]

Posts : 22 Join date : 2017-11-22

Mid November || Year 2

For a Saturday morning, waking up at eight was pushing it for Art. Usually he got to sleep in for at least another hour, lounge for a bit, eat, then head off to the greenhouse to see Eden, the typical weekend routine ever since that first Saturday they started talking again. Arthur wasn’t sure what could’ve warranted locks on a greenhouse of all places, but he did understand that the plants were valuable to Eden. He was honestly lucky to have been there at that exact time, on what was probably the only day he ever woke up that close to dawn, and run into Eden. If it weren’t for that chance, then with their combined awkwardness, maybe they wouldn’t have started talking again at all.

There was a buzzing on his bedside table. Ah, right… eight AM… He heaved a heavy sigh, eyes opening for only the second time—first having been to check the time and glare at the clock—and uncoordinated hand moving to grab his phone. It took a few tries to get it unplugged, but soon enough he could see the notifications—One Missed Call From: Mom—before the screen lit up again with an incoming call from his mom.

It was a miracle—or perhaps just evidence of his bilingual childhood—that he was able to understand his mother’s rapid-fire Thai when he was half asleep, but he did miss a few words. “Wait, so, dad’s birthday party? What about it?” He questioned, sitting up and running a hand through his bedhead, eyes almost shutting again. It came out in English and she mirrored the switch with simpler words.

“I don’t remember the details—I left a message, listen to it, okay? Get permission.”

“Okay,” through a yawn, and the call was over with a quick goodbye and advice for him to sleep more.

It took only a minute for Arthur to realize he had no idea how to check his voicemail, but only another minute to look it up and go through the steps. The prerecorded voice came through the speaker, “Twenty-two unread voicemails. Press 1 to listen.” Wait. Twenty-two? His mom couldn’t have talked long enough to leave twenty-two voicemails, right? But then who—would anyone in their right mind leave that many? Arthur paused, but after coming up with a blank, pressed 1.

“November 5, 2016,” the electronic voice stated the date of the first voicemail and Art realized in seconds that it was—

”Hey, Art. It’s me, Eden. You already know that. I mean, hey. How are you? I didn’t see you in school this week. Two, actually, I think?”

Eden.

— Two hours later —

If anyone had told Art he’d be crying at 8 AM on a Saturday, he would’ve slept in more. Not that he regretted spending the first part of his morning listening to Eden’s many voicemails—in fact, it was nice to hear his voice. He hadn’t ever thought to ask about Eden’s side of things when he was gone, too caught up in the past and himself—god why didn’t he call him back, he should’ve—

The past two hours had been a rollercoaster, to say the least; full of crying, then laughing, replaying messages and feeling more, heart jumping to his throat on some. Fortunately he had had the sense to eat breakfast about halfway through, and after twenty-one voicemails… his mom’s voice, the one he was expecting to hear, but all he cared about was Eden.

The last voicemail from Eden. June 10. Eight months worth of messages that Arthur hadn’t noticed, and then Eden went and dropped that, and he didn’t even know. Eden liked him? He… liked him—

Art jumped out of bed, grabbing shoes and rustling Mocha, taking seconds to get out the door; he hadn’t even bothered changing clothes, still in the t-shirt and sweats he wore to bed, hair just as messy as his bed covers. Mocha ran after him as he all but sprinted to the greenhouses, he knew Eden was there, had to see him. The three minutes it took felt too long but before he knew it he was at there, punching in the code Eden had taught him and pulling open the door, Mocha rushing in after him. A quick glance around and—Eden. Right there, right in front of him, shocked but… maybe…

Arthur’s body reacted before his mind caught up, and even with the heavy breathing from the running—Mocha had flopped down and given up next to some empty pots—he walked right up to Eden, taking a second to just look before wrapping his arms around the boy and burying his head in his shoulders, saying only one thing: “I got your messages.”

Posts : 43 Join date : 2017-11-29

His morning started like any other. While most students would spend Saturdays in bed, Eden was up at the crack of dawn -- sometimes earlier -- to go down to the Greenhouses. Depending on the time of year and whether he had any particular projects going on, Eden could be there as early as three in the morning.

Today, however, he'd decided to give himself a rare sleep-in day, meaning that he only headed to his plants at six. The morning air was cold and chilly, hinting at the fast approaching winter. Soon, some of his plants would shed their leaves and wilt, only to emerge stronger and better in Spring. Some had already done that, and his Greenhouse floor was littered with yellow and red leaves. These he collected every day and put into a large compost bin. They made excellent soil once they had time to break down. There were, of course, some plants that survived the winter months, and even in the simulated warmth of the Greenhouse, they were usually cold to the touch. It was as though the plants had an internal clock that told them it should be cold.

The time passed by quickly as he took care of the few plants that were still around. As always, Eden didn't bother looking at a clock. It was Saturday, which meant he had nothing on, and on the off chance something did come up, all the Professors knew where to find him, as did... well, almost everyone. In fact, there probably wasn't a single person who didn't know Eden Ming was the student gardener; he was the one they went to when they needed things from the greenhouse and the usual gardener (who worked a specific time) wasn't around.

The door opened and Eden put down his spade, turning. It was most likely Arthur; the male had made it a routine to come and join him. Why, Eden didn't know, nor did he dare to ask, despite the curiosity gnawing away at him. Surely after all those voicemails, not once of which Arthur ever responded to, he had blown any chance of a friendship? But Art seemed content to pretend it never happened, and if Arthur was, Eden would do that, too.

But something was wrong and a light frown touched Eden's expression. Art was panting, as though he'd run all the way down and there was something in his eyes and the way Art was staring that made Eden's heart drop. Did something happen? He tried to ask but the words got caught and all he managed was a tiny squeak, so inaudible he himself almost missed it. Was someone hurt? Did...

The hug came out of nowhere and Eden's breath stopped, and for a moment it felt like his heart had, too. His ears rang with a rush of blood and he blinked once, twice, and then a third time. He barely heard the words, and it took twice as long for the meaning to register. What messages? Eden hadn't left any messages. The only time he'd ever done that was...

"Oh."

He swallowed -- or rather, tried to. There was nothing but a dry itch. He coughed instead. "My... ah... m-messages." He paused, realising he still hadn't returned the hug. It was too late now to do so without it being awkward, but it was even more so to continue to stand there, and so, tentatively, Eden raised his arms and laced them around Arthur. It felt so right that Eden was suddenly certain that this was a dream. "My voicemails," he repeated, a little more certainty, now that he knew it was a dream.

"I... I see."

Posts : 22 Join date : 2017-11-22

Listening to Eden’s voicemails—eight months’ worth—left Arthur immediately regretting withdrawing so severely. Yes, it had been a horrible time and he was in a bad place, but even in that moment he couldn’t help but think that just maybe if he had just picked up the phone, listened to his inbox, answered one call, then maybe it wouldn’t have been as horrible of a year, alone. Maybe they could’ve planned things for the summer, if nothing else; maybe that way Arthur wouldn't have thought so long and hard about not going back to school, about not sticking around to find out if he could make it.

What did Eden even think? That Art ignored the messages? That… that he didn’t like Eden in that way? It had taken a good half hour of wrestling his own thoughts and fears and questions, but once all of those had been put to rest, Arthur… liked Eden. Like liked him. Not in the same way he had liked—Daniel, but… different, somehow. He knew Eden, shared that awkwardness, listened to his obsessions, loved—oh my god.

It was that thought that had sent Arthur into overdrive; even before he had heard that Eden liked him, he was ready to find him and confess backed by pure adrenaline, but after? He didn’t even allow himself time to think, just to run.

And that was how he found himself in Eden's arms for what was probably the first time, unless he forgot something, and even though it was entirely based on impulse it felt so right, safe. His hands found their way around the other boy's back, gripping his shirt as if trying to make sure he was real, dozens of disconnected words and phrases flashing through his mind and trying to escape. “You—and she—I didn't—that's—”

An intentional deep breath, and all Arthur could continue with was a disjointed apology. “I didn’t—I didn’t know and it-it just—I’m sorry—and everything that happened—I-I didn’t realize—” another breath, this one almost shuddering as his emotions started to catch up with him, “I would've—if I'd known—I’m-I’m sorry.”

Posts : 43 Join date : 2017-11-29

There were emotions so thick and so strong that Eden didn't know what to do. He blinked, vision going blurry all of a sudden. Crying in dreams, he told himself, was normal. And soon he would wake up, and then he'd really cry, because it had been a dream and Arthur was not in his arms, and Arthur wouldn't know how he felt and he would have to go on pretending nothing had happened -- that he'd never left those voicemails to begin with. So he let the tears come and didn't try to fight them away. If this had been real, he would have tried to keep them back, to not display such raw honesty. But this wasn't real, and there was no harm in it.

Seconds passed. With each heartbeat, Eden was sure it would start to fade and he'd wake up in his dorm. So he waited. And as he waited, Arthur began to speak, words disjoined and sentences incomplete and yet, somehow, making more sense than anything Eden had ever heard before.

"Y-you don't... don't h-have to a-apologise," he said -- tried to say -- back. If he got the words out or if they were muffled, he wasn't sure. "I... You... Y-you're here now a-and that's... That's all I n-n-need. Y-you're a-all I... I..." He couldn't finish. Instead, he buried his face in Arthur's shoulder and continued to wait for the dream to end.

But the more time passed, the warmer he felt, and the more it began to dawn on him that this might just be real. Surely not? There was no reason Arthur would -- could -- feel the same way about him (he wouldn't be there after those messages if he didn't, right?). The only way this was real was if this was a dream, but if he wasn't waking up, then it couldn't be a dream. Eden didn't know what to think or feel.

"T-this is... r-real?" he heard himself ask, although he didn't intend on speaking. "I... I'm not d-dreaming?" He paused, pulled back a little to look at Arthur, eyes drinking in his face as though he'd never seen him before. "You... y-you're really here? But... why?"

Posts : 22 Join date : 2017-11-22

Arthur almost started panicking when Eden started crying, he never knew what to do about crying people but this was Eden and that made worse and somehow better. Only a handful of seconds passed before he found himself wiping away the teardrops—I’d rather kiss them away—and trying to smile and god Eden was so pretty even when crying, why didn't he notice before. He knew why, of course, but he hated the reason. He'd almost let Eden go entirely without even a second thought, all because he couldn't see past himself, shut himself off for months.

But here he was, right in front of Arthur, crying but still there. Maybe his words were quiet and stuttered but they were just so Eden that Art couldn't help but smile—and the last sentence, even unfinished, made him blush. Feeling Eden pressed against him, head against his neck, Arthur thought that maybe there was nothing better in the world. He couldn't think of a coherent response, too wrapped up in hugging Eden to mind the pause, but he listened as Eden spoke again.

Wait, does he think he's dreaming? Art couldn't decide if that was good or bad—both?—but either way he had to answer. “This is—it's real, Eden, I-I’m here, and—how could I not be, after all of that? I—I didn't even think about what anyone—what you were going through, I couldn't even—” He hesitated, not yet, and jumped topics with an small apologetic smile, “I don't check my voicemail… at all, really—my mom called this morning and left a message—” god what if she hadn't, “And—… I woke up at eight, and I listened to all of them, and—I never realized—Eden, the-the last voicemail, I-I heard and I just couldn't—I had to find you.” Art stared into Eden's eyes for a moment, gaze drifting slightly down before continuing, “And I’m sorry it took so long, I—last year it just—everything got out of hand and I’m sorry that I didn't tell you anything, I didn't leave my room for—” hesitance again, “But I heard the last message,” he paused to steel himself, “and I don't know why I didn't realize it before, Eden, you're, god you're—can I kiss you?” Everything came out in such a rush that Arthur hardly registered his own words, much too close to Eden's face, asking a question he never thought he'd ever get out.

Posts : 43 Join date : 2017-11-29

It wasn’t a dream.

It wasn’t a dream.

The more that began to sink in, the more the panic started creeping in, too. His whole reaction had been on the premise that it had been a dream, and that he’d wake up. Now that he wasn’t going to — that he was already awake — Eden was full blown panicking. If Art has listened to the voicemails then he knew... everything. There was nothing ... no secrets ... And hadn’t Eden told him he liked him? No amount of deep breaths could stop the welling up inside him that threatened to burst; he was going to burst if he didn’t say something — anything.

There were no words, though. He had nothing to say. It had been so easy over the phone when he was staring at his plants instead of a face, when he could hang up and everything would end. He couldn’t hang up now, couldn’t walk away from everything being said and done. He had to face it head on and he wasn’t prepared for that. He was never going to be prepared for that, even if he lived forever.

He searched Arthur’s face for any traces of a lie, for any inkling that this wasn’t true. What if she has found out about the voicemails and this was one of her shapeshifting friends? What if this was all one cruel prank? Eden tried to shake the fear, the doubts, but they lingered. He wasn’t good enough for Arthur, never would be, and it felt so wrong to want to be with the boy. Art deserved better. Needed better. And yet... and yet... Eden swallowed past a lump, refusing to cry. This wasn’t sad; why then, did he feel bursting into tears?

Arthur’s words were mostly lost in Eden’s internal fears and what ifs. He heard them all but none of them really made sense — mother, voicemail, leaving room, last message, kiss... His breath caught and every fibre in him froze. Had Art just said what Eden thought he said, or was it his mind playing more tricks with him, taunting him, making him hear words he so desperately wanted to hear. The fog in his brain clouded everything, making it hard to think, but he tried. He tried to push past the fear and the doubts and to for once in his life not give in. Arthur wanted to kiss him.

“Yes,” he tried to say, but the word got caught and not even a whisper left his mouth. He tried to nod, but he found himself stuck in place, lips inches away from Art and yet unable to give in and do it. Instead, Eden did the only thing he knew to do and reached out with his mind, feeling for the plans around him, sipping life from the sunflowers and bushes and the budding leaves of seeds he found in the forest. He took their energy and channeled it into himself and with one burst of strength, broke through the barrier in his mind for just a split second, long enough to lean forward, bridge the gap between them, and plant his lips straight onto Arthur’s.

It wasn’t a dream.

Posts : 22 Join date : 2017-11-22

They were kissing. Oh my god. Now was Arthur dreaming? Eden hadn't even said anything, was it really Eden? Oh my god. It was… soft, somehow, even if he wasn't sure what to do with his hands, or his mouth—oh right, his eyes were open. Arthur let them close, trying to ignore how fast his heart was beating; it was still running on spurts from his sprint to the greenhouse, and now he wasn't sure if it would ever return to what it had been that morning. His hands drifted up to Eden's cheeks, holding them delicately, almost unsure of what was okay but too caught up to truly care.

The kiss, though, was something else entirely. Messy, sure, full of teeth that probably shouldn't have knocked together and Arthur wasn't sure what he was tasting—mint, maybe, or the remnants of breakfast. It was unfamiliar territory, his first kiss in fact, meaning he had absolutely no idea what he was doing, but it was Eden, there was something about it that set Arthur's insides on fire—billions of butterflies trying to find space in his stomach, or fireworks lit in his gut, nothing he had ever felt before. And if that was what kissing Eden was like, soft and awkward and so full of him, then Arthur never wanted to stop.

But before very long passed, he had to take a breath, leaning back reluctantly. Arthur opened his eyes back up, taking a moment to just look at the other boy; it’d been so long since he had just gotten to stare at Eden—not in the creepy way, most of the time before it had been in classes when they weren't doing anything important, with the sun behind him early in the day, lighting up the softer curves of his nose and cheeks… Arthur could stare at Eden all day and never get tired of him. Maybe that was why he leaned in again for a second and gave the other a second kiss, much shorter, blending into a fond grin.

“Still not a dream, right?” This fixes nothing. Even with the adrenaline and joy from the kiss, Arthur couldn't ignore the fact that them drifting apart had been entirely his fault, and he hadn't told Eden anything. The grin fell, as did his gaze, anxiety beginning to spike back up, but Art spoke again before he could overthink it. “I—I’m sorry about—about everything that happened, I di-didnt mean to disappear like that—I didn't even warn you, gods, I’m sorry.” The words almost choked him, Arthur's eyes finding the ground. Was he going to do it? Would he be able to tell Eden about that year? “If… if you want to know—about that year, after—” Don't choke, “af-after da—”

He couldn't say it. It had been so long and he couldn't say it. Trying not to start panicking already, Arthur put his head back on Eden's shoulder, breathing in for a moment and speaking quietly. “I didn't mean for it to get out of hand, I’m sorry—I ca-can’t even say his name—” Was he tearing up? “And on—on the rooftop, back then, I-I was—I was there—” He was crying by then, no doubt, breaths too rough and shaky to pass as okay, but he couldn't stop the panic or the explanation. He had to keep going, squeezing his eyes shut. “He wouldn't have done it if it weren't for me—” Art all but sobbed, “it was my fault, and I cou-couldn’t take it af-after, not e-even with—without school, and it-it just—”

The only other people who knew about what Arthur was trying to explain were his parents, because they had been the ones to witness it, to stop it. Art felt his lungs burn, forcing in another breath. He wasn't even sure if he was loud enough. “I couldn't take it, but le-leaving like that didn't w-work, and I’m st-still not okay, I—I don't know what to do ha-half the time, I have n-nightmares—” Whatever else his mind had come up with to ramble about was cut off by a full sob, racking his chest—he was soaking Eden's sleeve for sure. But he couldn't focus on that. Mocha had gone on alert the minute she sensed his breathing picking up, now pressed into his side and trying to calm him.

Posts : 43 Join date : 2017-11-29

The kiss was more than he had ever expected. Odd, different, and weird, but also warm and amazing and beautiful — like Arthur. Everything inside him seemed to catch on fire, to explode, as though he’d absorbed the energy of all the plants in the world and channelled it into himself.

“N-not a dream,” he murmured, both to himself and to Art. “D-definitely not... n-not a dream.” He wanted to go on, to tell Arthur how he felt and — f*** —
even ask him out but then the male was going on and everything Eden wanted to say died on his lips as he listened.

Eden was silent, paying attention to each word, each expression, each breath Art took. Communication, Eden had learnt through quiet observation of others who never seemed to realise he existed, was far more than what words were said. The how and the why typically mattered more. He said nothing, even when his heart and mind screamed protest at Arthur’s proclamation it was his fault, and just continued to listen. His hands found their way to Art’s back, rubbing and patting and generally just showing that he was there and he was listening and by God did he care.

Art finished, and for a few more moments, Eden kept silent, waiting and listening. Mocha was there although Eden didn’t notice when he’d come, and almost at once Eden know something wasn’t right.

Instinctively, Eden opened his senses. He wasn’t sure what he could do — he’d never tried calming someone else — but he had to do something. He felt around, looking for plants that had the energy he was looking for — the strong steady kind that wasn’t fully life-giving, but was constant and ever pulsing — and found it in lavender, aloe vera, snake plant, and the viper bowstring he had brought down from the school to nurture back to health. He sipped at them, taking only tiny bits, and then reached out for something stronger, pinching at the sunflowers and the cacti. Then, when he had them all bundled together into a ball in his mind, he sent it in a slow steady steam directly into Art’s consciousness.

It was different than how he did it with himself, when he was particularly tired or drained. His anxiety was often easy to overcome with just the tiniest drops of lavender or cacti (which was why he had so many in his room; they helped quell panic from dreams), but that was when he took the energy itself. Did it also work when he gave it to someone else? Or did it have to be consumed in that special way that only he could do, as the one who borrowed? Eden wasn’t sure, but still he continued focusing the stream of energy into Art until none remained.

Then he leaned back until he felt a gap between Art’s head and his shoulder. Reaching forward, he gently placed a hand on Art’s chin, guiding him to look back up. He moved his hand to Art’s cheek, thumb brushing away the tears and streaks of wet.

“It’s okay,” he said, softly, whispering the words for only Arthur to hear, words that he found had always been there on the tip of his tongue, if only he had known how to find them earlier. “It’s okay.” He paused, looking intently into the other male’s eyes. Had they always been this beautiful? “You don’t have to be okay for me to love you.” A far off corner of his brain alerted him to the fact he wasn’t stuttering, but Eden didn’t pay it attention long enough to understand. “It wasn’t your fault. And the nightmares... maybe if I...”

The words got stuck there. He tried to make more come out, tried to get what he was thinking to convert into speech, but he was frozen. There was too much to say and his vocabulary just wasn’t big enough — did there even exist words to describe what he wanted to say? — and Eden fell silent for a few moments. His mind was blank, filled only with love and more than love (care? Fondness? Desire?) for Art. There was only one way to convey all of this. Once again, Eden leaned forward, letting his mouth meet Arthur’s in a slow, warm kiss.

» Quiescence [Arden]
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» You Will Be Found (Arden Voicemails) [Closed]
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