So, he wasn't crazy, and he wasn't stupid.
He understood that I was making him suffer to find some twisted pleasure in ruining the "idol" image my parents had of him.
So, he willingly let himself be my slave, just to make me feel better.
"In fact, there's a better way to get back at them", Arthur said:
"Take me home. In front of them, order me around, torment me, suppress me, treat me the way your parents treated you, make me your dog, and completely destroy everything they ever preached to you. How about that?"
I was left speechless by his suggestion.
"...You really don't have a masochistic streak, do you?"
"This method works, doesn't it?" he said, his eyes cold and detached.
"That way, whenever they scold you, you can retort: 'If even Arthur listens to me, what do you even count as?' Doesn't that feel great?"
I: "But... no, that's not what I meant..."
I shook my head, unable to stop:
"You don't have to go that far for me. That's not fair to you."
"Not fair?" Arthur laughed:
"Do I have fairness in your eyes?"
"When I was a child, I asked you why you hated me, but you never said. When I called you or messaged you, you blocked me. I wrote you letters, but you never replied..."
"You never gave me a chance. And now, everything's gone too far to fix, and you throw at me that you hate me, telling me to leave."
"From the beginning to the end, I never did anything wrong... Lilyana, do you think this is fair to me?"
Arthur was getting a little angry.
Though his tone hadn't changed much, I could tell he was upset.
For the first time since our reunion, his calm face was now twisted with a fierce expression. I pursed my lips and muttered softly:
"I'm not obligated to give you a chance!"
"We weren't bound together from birth. I can live just fine without you, but you, now acting like you have me in the palm of your hand, it's really strange..."
"Strange?"
He chuckled softly, but there was no trace of humor in his expression:
"I told you, I like you. I want to help you. I don't want you pushing me away because of those crazy people. I hope you can accept me."
"But it seems like you haven't listened to a word I've said. You never trust me, and whatever I say is just useless to you, right?"
"You can't blame me for that."
I frowned:
"I've said it before, I don't like you, I don't want to talk to you, I hate you. But you keep clinging to me, and now you blame me for not responding? That's unreasonable..."
"Lilyana!"
Smash!
Arthur threw the cup he had been holding. The glass shattered across the floor.
His deep eyes locked onto me, his anger completely visible:
"So, after all this time, you still don't care about me at all, not even a little bit, do you?"
I instinctively held my breath and didn't say anything.
Arthur nodded, his expression bitter: "Fine, I understand. I'm the fool. I'm the one who was deluding myself."
He stood up, picking up the shards of glass one by one, throwing them all into the trash bin. His palm was cut and bleeding, but he continued on, expressionless, as if he felt no pain.
"You..."
"I'm leaving."
He said, "I won't come back again."
---
Arthur left.
I opened my mouth as if to say something, but then thought, maybe it was better this way.
He must have given up.
I sighed in relief, but at the same time, something about it felt strange.
He had come so suddenly, left so suddenly... how could someone like him be so unpredictable?
So strange!
His food was still on the table, and I absentmindedly ate a little, putting the rest in the fridge.
After eating, I laid down on the couch with a cushion and napped. When I woke up, it was already dark outside.
I grabbed the trash and headed downstairs, planning to take a walk. But after a few steps, I stopped.
I saw Arthur.
He was sitting at the corner of the stairs, his down jacket covered in dirt, a large hole torn in it by a nail, feathers spilling out.
He stared at the hole, his beautiful brows furrowed, his face full of frustration and dejection.
...It reminded me of a homeless puppy I once saw, wearing that same expression. I wanted to avoid it, but I didn't feel the need to.
I stepped forward and kicked his calf lightly:
"Didn't you say you were leaving? Why are you sitting here instead of going home?"
"I'm waiting for you."
He replied succinctly: "I was wrong. I'm sorry."
It hadn't even been three hours since he declared he'd never come back to find me... and now he couldn't hold his ground for more than three seconds.
I looked at him, my gaze full of complexity: "So?"
"I was wrong. I still want to bother you." He looked at me and added:
"You promised me a month, and this is just the first day. You can't kick me out." His eyes even revealed a hint of grievance.
"Lily, I'm so hungry."
---
There's some leftover food in the fridge from lunch...
"I don't eat leftovers."
He quickly interrupted me: "Let's go out to eat. I'll treat you, for dinner."
He then made sure to add:
"And don't eat leftovers either, it's bad for your health." I: "...You're really meddling in my business."
At dinner, I wasn't particularly hungry. Most of the time, I was watching Arthur eat, focusing on the way his Adam's apple moved with each swallow.
"Stop staring at me like that."
Arthur looked vulnerable: "Lily, I can't take it, it's so strange."
I rolled my eyes and looked away.
At the table next to us, there was a young couple with a small child. The child didn't want to eat the carrots and, in a soft voice, complained to his mother:
"Mom, I don't want to eat this, it tastes weird."
"If you don't want to eat, don't eat it."
The mother placed the carrots on the father's plate and gave the child a piece of chicken instead.
"Try this. Is it taste good?"
"I remember when I was a kid, if I told my parents I didn't want to eat something, they'd definitely say I was being picky and make me finish it."
"I remember a time when I hated seaweed, and my mom would cook seaweed for every meal—seaweed pancakes, fried seaweed... She'd tell me I had to eat it, or I'd starve."
"During that time, I lost five or six pounds from hunger, forced to eat seaweed while crying. My mom actually felt proud of herself, thinking she cured me of my problem..."
I laughed and teased Arthur.
But when I turned around, I found he had already put down his fork, his eyes filled with complexity as he stared at me.
"What's that expression?"
I asked, "Do you pity me?"
He shook his head: "Do you want to go to the supermarket? There's one nearby. I'll go with you."
