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It was late.
Well– not by Arthur's standards. But Arthur's standards were barely even standards at all, so maybe he wasn't the best one to ask. It was fine though, he wasn't that tired anyways– and Uncle Lance had asked him to fix up his old VCR player months ago, he just hadn't been able to actually get the thing done because. Because.
Well. Because of the whole 'searching for Lewis for over a year before finding out he died and came back as a skeleton ghost obsessed with revenge because he thought Arthur killed him and suddenly having to fight some random tree lady who had beef with Mystery, who was actually a kitsune and not just a weird dog, because of him siding with Vivi's ancestor who she Also had beef with' thing.
...It's still surreal, knowing that Lewis was some sort of undead being now. He takes his human facade whenever can, especially when he's around Arthur's uncle, or anyone else that isn't the rest of the Mystery Skulls gang. But Arthur knows what he really is and he can't help but feel that deeply seated twang of guilt any time he thinks of him, even if they both know now that it wasn't Really his fault.
He's been staying with them, actually. Arthur and Uncle Lance, he means. The shop doubles as their house and they have a spare room that'd been temporarily used as storage until they hastily moved some stuff out of the way to give Lewis a place to sleep.
Before the. The Everything, Lewis had actually still been living with his parents, never really having been pressured to leave on account of the fact that he loved them to death (...) and was more than happy to be a live in babysitter for his sisters, even if they tended to be a bit of a handful for just one person.
...But they hadn't told them that Lewis was back yet. Arthur felt horribly guilty about it (he could only imagine how Lewis felt) but they just couldn't come up with the right words to say about the whole ordeal. Not yet, at least. And Vivi still hadn't regained enough of her memories of him to be comfortable with him staying over with her all the time (which Lewis thought was fair, but Arthur knew he was still bothered by it; he was almost shocked by how well he could still read Lewis, even as a ghost, but he supposed to himself that it just came naturally from knowing someone since before you were 10).
He's not really sure if Lewis even sleeps. It looks like he can, retreating into his little... heart locket thingy in a nest consisting of the pillows and blankets he'd been lent. But he's not sure if that's even really sleeping, considering Lewis doesn't ever really get tired naturally; he usually just does that any time he doesn't have enough to do.
He would ask him about it. But even as temporary housemates, even after they'd sort of made up after The Everything, things between them were still weird. Really weird.
It's been driving Arthur insane.
He knows part of it is his fault– it's not that he has any instinctual dislike for confrontation, he's just really fucking bad at it. Every time he tries he starts getting clammy and all the words he wants to say start getting jumbled up in his brain, suddenly making his mouth feel like it was full of silly putty. Thankfully Lewis seems to understand (he still has a remarkable amount of understanding reserved for him, really) but he never seems to want to talk about it himself.
Or at least, it doesn't seem like a conversation he's eager to initiate. Which Arthur did admittedly think was a little weird; Lewis had always been the type to act now and think later (something about him that he'd always been endeared by. when it didn't end up with him dangling over a pit of ghost spikes, of course). But he also supposes that seething in isolation for a year changes a man (is he a man? Arthur doesn't really know; Lewis had admitted to him a few years ago that the whole gender thing was kind of weird for him, but he'd never made any attempt to tell him to refer to him by or as anything else. he can't imagine how all the ghost stuff ended up factoring into that).
He sighs. There he goes, thinking about Lewis again. He almost feels like it's all he ever does at this point, pressing the heels of his palms against his eye sockets to relieve the tension headache that had slowly been building up while he wasn't paying attention.
Normally, that was the cue to get some rest, even if he didn't end up sleeping. Sleep still didn't come easy to him; it never did, really, but even melatonin didn't seem to help the insomnia nowadays, and he thinks that maybe part of the reason why for that is all the nightmares he'd been getting ever since they'd lost Lewis.
(He'd naïvely hoped those would go away if they managed to get him back, but alas they did not. At least they weren't usually as bad now. Usually.)
But he still feels restless, massaging his own temples before hearing a soft knock on his door.
"Open," he called out instinctively, knowing already that it was Lewis based on the way he was knocking (Vivi's was sharp, crisp even, like a really good apple. Uncle Lance's was more of a pound than a knock, and he'd just open the door after a few seconds of waiting anyway. Mystery... well, there were scratch marks on his door. you could imagine who those were from).
"Why are you not in bed?" a vaguely displeased and echoey voice rang out as Lewis slipped in quietly, hovering a few inches off of the floor.
Arthur almost wants to retort with a 'why aren't you?' but he knows it'd be redundant, knows it'd just make Lewis stare at him blankly until he awkwardly changed the subject. He notes to himself that Lewis is human right now and wonders if doing that all the time is at all uncomfortable for him, but he doesn't figure he has a right to ask just yet.
"Can't sleep. What else is new?" he huffs out tiredly as he leans back in his roller chair, a little curious as to why Lewis came to his room anyhow. He didn't really mind the company, is the thing, he just... didn't really knew where they stood at the moment.
"Have you taken your sleep aid?" Lewis asks as he floats in a little closer, still keeping his distance but at least he doesn't seem so far away now. Arthur appreciates the ask but he waves it off, shaking his head.
"Nah, those don't work anymore. They haven't since. Well, since. Y'know. You went missing," Arthur shrugs as he tries to prevent from making it sound so pointed, figuring that he's failed when Lewis's eyes shift away from him.
"Oh."
"Yeah."
Now suddenly neither of them know what to say and Arthur scratches the back of his neck, wishing he'd just lied and kept his stupid mouth shut.
He fucking hates this. He hates how they've been walking on eggshells around each other, hates how everything ends up inadvertently coming out as a guilt trip, because even the objective facts of what happened to either of them are just so miserable it just ends up making them feel bad regardless of intent.
...He hates how they keep doing this stupid fucking dance without trying to step on each other's toes when they're already so far apart.
"Hey, can we like. Talk?" Lewis says suddenly, and Arthur's gaze snaps up to him, not even having realized that he'd begun to stare out into empty space.
"Y– shit, yeah, sure. Uh. About what?" Arthur stumbles out as he readjusts himself in his chair so he's sitting up a little straighter.
"I don't– I don't know. Something? Everything?? I wouldn't even know where to start," Lewis admits, very obviously frustrated at himself. The tension in Arthur's countenance softens a little, because he knows that look, and he has to stop himself from trying to reach out and pull Lewis in for a hug that he so desperately wants to give because he doesn't know what they are to each other anymore.
"...You could start by taking a seat? Unless you prefer to keep floating like that– your choice, I guess," Arthur says, attempting to sound lighthearted as he motions to his unmade bed that probably hasn't seen as much use as it should.
Lewis hesitates for a moment but he does silently take the offer, floating over to Arthur's bed and gently pushing his blanket to the side so he could sit on the edge. Normally when he did that, he'd also cross his legs and hug one of Arthur's pillows to his chest as they talked, but he's so stiff right now, and Arthur almost thinks that he looked more comfortable aimlessly floating three inches off the floor next to his ever increasing laundry pile and the stacks of video game cases and manuals that had been rather neglected for the past year or so.
They both kind of sit there awkwardly while avoiding each others' gaze, unsure of how to continue this conversation that had barely even started. Arthur leans over to his desk to grab his cup of coffee that has definitely gone cold by now, bringing it to his face to take a drink.
"Do you hate me?" Lewis blurts out hastily and Arthur chokes on the small sip he had taken, scrambling to put his cup back on his desk as he tries to cough out the liquid stuck in his throat.
Lewis cringes at that, leaning forward as though he wanted to help but unsure of what to actually do. Arthur was eventually able to regain his composure on his own, turning to Lewis with a bewildered look on his face.
"Wh– Lewis, how could you say something like that??" he manages to spit out, almost horrified at the insinuation. Lewis sputters for a moment, trying so hard to put the things he wants to say to words before it all just came tumbling out.
"I– I don't know! You just seem upset all the time! And mostly at me?? But I'm not actually sure because– because I never know what you're thinking anymore, and it's driving me fucking CRAZY because I used to be the guy who used to be able to tell what you were thinking all the time. I used to be the one you talked to when you were feeling bad or weird or. Or anything, really. And then I just went and fucked that all up and you don't tell me anything anymore because I got so swept up in the stupid idea that it was you who killed me, I didn't even stop to think that maybe wasn't true, that I was being an idiot like usual. That even if it was, I shouldn't have made you live through the same trauma that I went through because it was shitty and terrifying and you never would have deserved that, not in a thousand years because you're my best friend, but I don't know if I even get to call you that any more because I almost fucking KILLED you!"
He's visibly distressed right now, inky black globs of tears falling down his face and fading into nothingness as he trembles.
"...I– I guess the real question is. Why wouldn't you hate me?" he adds weakly, so far removed from the usual boldness that was characteristic to his voice that it made Arthur speechless.
He stares at him wide eyed, initially unsure of what to say. But eventually, he pushes his chair closer to his bed, gently pressing his knees against Lewis's own, an action which makes the other flinch and which makes Arthur's heart ache.
"You're not stupid, Lewis. And I don't hate you. I don't think I could even if I tried," Arthur says softly, internally cursing how much his voice was quivering but deciding not to point it out.
"I mean– hell, I spent over a year looking for you, man. We must've searched the entire fucking South Central US, because I really, really wanted to believe you were still out there. You and Vivi– you mean everything to me, dude. You guys are the only real friends I still have that aren't like..."
He pauses to think about how to word it.
"Your families, who only know me through you, or like. Your friends, who aren't really my friends so much as they're acquaintances because they know you, and I know you, so we know each other but we're not actually like. Friends friends. You know?"
Lewis nods, the ghost (...) of a smile making it to his face as he does. Arthur smiles at him back, tries to make it as soft as he can manage as he reaches out for one of the hands that's curled up in a fist in Lewis's lap.
Lewis hesitates but relents, and Arthur takes his hand, holding it with both of his own. Arthur never really considered himself a small man but even when they were younger, Lewis had always been built like a fucking fridge and even now, he's still amused by the fact that Lewis's hand seems to dwarf his own as he presses their palms together.
"Really though, you are my best friend. I mean– I don't mean to like. Guilt you or anything, I really don't but– fucking hell man, other than Vivi and Mystery and Uncle Lance, you're all I have. And I'll be real, after uh."
He pauses again, taking a look at the uneasy expression on Lewis's face.
"After the whole... cliff thing, I tried to be mad at you. I really did. I almost wanted to be mad at you, actually, because I just couldn't understand why you would think I was the one who killed you after everything we'd been through. But I just couldn't do it. Every time I tried, all I could feel was guilt. And this. This overwhelming sense of relief. Knowing that I'd found you. Knowing that you were ok. Uh. Relatively speaking, at least."
Lewis has the audacity to snort at that but doesn't push it, waiting patiently for Arthur to get his bearings and continue.
He takes in a deep breath.
"What I'm trying to say is... I don't hate you. I don't. I– I love you, man. And I know you and Vivi are still trying to work out your relationship again, and I respect that, and I don't even know if I even like you like– like that– but I love you. Have loved you, since we were kids, I think. And I never really knew how to bring it up to you because I never knew how you'd take it– let alone when you and Vivi actually first got together, but. I love you, so fucking much. Please don't think I hate you."
Arthur's on the verge of tears at this point, his last sentence coming out as a whisper as he clasps onto Lewis's hand as though he would disappear at any moment. He can tell his face is red from how warm it feels and he feels so much fucking anxiety once what he's just said really sinks in but he doesn't regret saying a word of it, hoping that Lewis won't that it's weird or pathetic or or or–
Ough.
...They're hugging. Oh my god they're hugging.
Lewis is shaking as he clutches Arthur to his chest, neither of their feet touching the ground but Lewis's ghost powers making it not much of an issue. It takes Arthur a moment to process but once he does, he reciprocates it immediately, holding onto Lewis just as tight as he tries to stop himself from sobbing his eyes out.
Because Lewis's hugs feel just as good as he remembers them, all warmth and comfort and everything he'd been missing for the months and months he'd gone without him in his life. He'd almost forgotten how all encompassing they were, how they made you feel like anything and everything was going to be alright, actually, and he's so so glad that he hasn't, clutching fistfuls of Lewis's jacket as he takes in the familiarly light scent of cocoa and spices that seem to cling to him like cologne, even now that he's like this.
"I love you. I'm sorry. I love you. I'm sorry. I love you. I'm sorry," Lewis mumbles into Arthur's shoulder, and Arthur can't help but reach up and pat at Lewis's hair, still meticulously kept and soft as a cloud even in undeath.
"It's ok. I'm sorry too, buddy," Arthur sniffles softly, giving him a watery smile that Lewis is certain is as bright as the sun once the two of them find it in themselves to finally pull away.
Eventually, the two of them are sitting on Arthur's bed together, Lewis sitting with his back against the wall and hugging one of Arthur's pillows to his chest. Arthur is sitting perpendicular to him with his legs draped across Lewis's lap and occasionally moving to bump his head against Lewis's own, the both of them talking about absolutely whatever, just like they did when they were younger.
It's nice. They hadn't done this in forever, Arthur thinks to himself, and it makes him so happy that even though trying to have that conversation felt like watching a car crash in slow motion, the both of them came out of their vehicles relatively unscathed.
An eventual lull in their conversation has Arthur staring at Lewis's ever beating locket, pulsing a bright orangeish yellow, just like it had when they first met again. He remembers seeing it later on, in the truck, when it was shattered and grey and felt like it was so cold his fingers would stick to it if he held it for too long (...though he's sure Uncle Lance shooting it with a 12 gauge hadn't exactly done much to remedy that. it was fine, though; he and Lewis had made their peace with each other).
He'd tried to pick it up then, tried to peer inside when he'd accidentally opened it, but having it be in someone else's hands had freaked Lewis out so bad that all he could remember of the picture was a blur of purples and blues and reds and oranges before it'd been snatched out of his hands, Lewis taking it so he could make sure it hadn't been damaged further.
...so they could make sure it hadn't been damaged further, actually. One of the things Arthur had asked about was the gender stuff, and Lewis had rather bashfully admitted that they actually preferred to go by 'they' nowadays; they just didn't really care enough to correct anyone. They seemed grateful he'd asked, though, but also made sure to ask him if it could be their little secret for now; that they'd tell everyone else in due time. He didn't mind one bit.
Lewis seems to have noticed his curiosity, tilting their head as they nudge him gently to let him know they know he's been staring. Arthur's embarrassed about it for a moment but shakes it off before nudging them back.
"Can I look?" he asks as he gestures to it, and there's a barely noticeable stutter to its beating as Lewis considers it. They eventually nod, letting it float out closer to the other just as it had with Vivi in the mansion they'd summoned, something that felt like it'd happened an entire lifetime ago.
Arthur takes it in his hands carefully and Lewis has to fight the urge to flinch as he does, fingers curling into the fabric of their slacks at the sensation.
It doesn't feel bad so much as it feels... new. They've gotten used to Vivi poking and prodding at their locket, never in a way that made them feel uncomfortable but enough that they were relatively desensitized to her touch (unless she had some sort of Intent, but that was rare and usually rather chaste, something Lewis was rather fine with, actually; their relationship had never been particularly sexual anyways).
But with Arthur, things feel far different. Their body feels as though its on fire as dextrous fingers gingerly run over it, especially considering one of his hands is made out of metal now and causes a sensation that they'd never felt before any time he ghosts (haha) over it with his prosthetic.
(They note to themself that they really oughta ask Arthur if they can take a look at it some time; they're no where near as mechanically or technologically literate as he is but they appreciate his work all the same, biting back the guilt when they remember just how he lost it in the first place but trying to push it out of mind, at least for the time being.)
They're not sure if Arthur can tell how much of an effect this is having over them but they choose to keep quiet, fully content with letting him inspect it as he pleases.
They metaphorically swallow a gasp as Arthur used both thumbs to click it open, revealing that picture of the four of them that Lewis just adores, with their arms around both Arthur and Vivi as Arthur throws up double peace signs and Vivi takes the picture, Mystery happily snuggled to her side and resting a paw on their hand as they all beam at each other.
They still remember the day they took it, how happy they'd been. It was just before they and Vivi had started dating for real, they're pretty sure. They'd all gone on yet another ghost hunting trip that really just ended up with them scaring the shit out of Arthur and not finding any actual ghosts, as was par for the course for Most of their adventures, really. But they went out for dinner, afterwards, and then they went to Lewis's parents' restaurant for dessert, and they remember just how happy it had made them just sitting there with the three of them, they, Vivi, and Arthur laughing over a generous slice of their papi's signature Neapolitan layer cake while Mystery sat at Vivi's feet under the table, happily munching on a sandwich that the gang had slipped into the kitchen to make just for him.
It really was no wonder to them that that was what ended up being their new locket photo.
Arthur stares at it for a little while, almost mesmerized by the idea that he's important enough to Lewis to be included in what he knows has to be a very important item to them, even if he doesn't know all the details of how it works.
He remembers that photo too, remembers how he specifically avoided eating the chocolate parts of the cake Lewis's dad had brought out since he knew that most things that contained chocolate in their restaurant also usually contained some inconceivable level of spice, and despite being close to the Pepper family for however many years, he still had an almost cartoonishly white level of spice tolerance. He remembers Vivi suddenly pulling out her phone, ushering everyone to cram into view so they could get a picture together, had almost forgotten that he'd actually made it his phone background until the anguish he felt at being left out all the time and not being able to tell the others how he felt made it too painful to look at.
That memory is apparently strong enough that even though they don't know exactly what he's thinking, Lewis can feel how hurt it's making him, and they frown.
"I upset you," they say quietly, and Arthur sort of fumbles at that, snapping the locket shut so fast it's almost painful to its owner.
"D-don't worry about it, Lew, it's alright, it's in the past," Arthur insists with a nervous smile, and Lewis shakes their head.
"Not if it's making you feel this bad."
"...Ok, maybe a little. But that was mostly on me, not you– or Vivi for that matter! It's not like it's your fault that I was too much of a coward to tell you how I felt, or that I had such bad paranoia around being alone, so really it was just a me problem," Arthur concedes quickly, clearly trying to change the subject for Lewis's sake. But Lewis refuses to take that out, gently bumping their head against Arthur's like he'd done to them earlier.
"But it is my fault that I did things to make you feel like you couldn't tell me. It is my fault that I never stopped to ask how you were after we started dating because you've told me before about the paranoia, and I never took that into account because I got so distracted by being in a relationship that I ended up being a pretty shitty best friend. It's not just your fault, Arthur, it's mine too. I refuse to let you try and blame yourself for all that," Lewis says firmly but with no sense of anger, and Arthur doesn't really know what to say to that.
He's spent so long convinced that it was fundamentally his fault they'd all gotten into this mess, even if the actual 'pushing Lewis off a cliff thing' was due to that weird spirit thing that possessed him and functionally stole his arm, that the insinuation that Lewis wanted to take some of the blame is a little hard for him to take.
Lewis senses this, to some degree, and leans to nuzzle their head against Arthur's own, and Arthur suddenly feels very, very tired as he leans into their touch.
"Man, we're– we're kinda fucked up, huh?" is all he's able to wheeze out with a chuckle, and Lewis cracks a sort of wry smile at that as they shift to let Arthur lay down, figuring it's finally time that he get some rest.
"Yeah, yeah we kind of are. That's ok, though. You, me, and Vivi– we can all be fucked up together. And Mystery too, I guess, I'm still not fully sure what his whole deal is," they respond with a shrug, and Arthur wants to laugh but is intercepted with his own yawn.
"Go to sleep. We can talk more later, if you want," Lewis says softly, moving to get up and leave before they feel Arthur's fingers catch on the hem of their jacket, turning to look at him curiously.
"Stay here? Please?" he mumbles out sleepily, and Lewis can't help but smile at that, squeezing his hand gently.
"Sorry, bud, your bed's a little small. I don't wanna push you off by accident," they say apologetically, Arthur immediately waving them off.
"Sleep wif me, then. Y'kno, the thing y'do when you uh. Ssleep in y'r locket," he slurs out, and Lewis's eyes widen at the prospect, knowing that if they were in full ghost form right now, their face would be glowing bright pink.
"Oh. Yeah, ok, sure," they say softly, offering their locket to him once more, and despite his sleepiness, Arthur still finds it in himself to grab his blanket from the foot of the bed and make a cozy little nest for them, right next to him so he can hug it to his chest. And they can't help but feel an intense sense of fondness at the scene of Arthur, half asleep and cuddling their blanket-wrapped locket as pinpricks of sunrise stream through his window, feeling a little bad that they'd inadvertently kept him up so long (especially when their original intention was to make sure he would actually get some sleep before daybreak. oops.).
They retreat into their locket in a small flurry of pink-purple flames that dissipate before Arthur could even feel any heat. They can't really see their surroundings from here, which is why they usually preferred to sleep alone; for personal security reasons more than anything else. But in Arthur's arms they feel so overwhelmingly safe, and they allow themself to relax, closing their eyes and feeling golden beams of sunshine, from both the window and Arthur's hold, lull them into an easy, dreamless sleep.