If We Found Heaven ✓

forty ✎

Reid woke up next to Art. Clothed, of course, but next to Art nonetheless. The thought crossed his mind that 'Art' was a very fitting nickname, because Arthur was, as far as Reid was concerned, a true masterpiece. Whatever god-like entity (or perhaps just the genetic lottery) that had created Art had been very kind. Art pressed his face into Reid's shirt when Reid moved slightly, a silent request for him to stay. So Reid stayed. Because, ultimately, he had trouble saying no to people, most of all Arthur.

"Are you coming to the rally today?" Art asked hopefully after they got dressed. Reid gave a slow nod. Art's face lit up. "Really?"

"Yeah," Reid said. "I guess I'll come." He fiddled with his sleeve. "Cass talked to some people, and she's planning on giving my speech. Her speech. The one I wrote for her."

Art studied him for a moment. "That's cool. That's cool." He smiled. "So you're a speechwriter, now?"

"I guess so," Reid replied, smiling back.

Art shook his head. "God, I missed so much in the twenty-four hours I ignored you."

Reid laughed. "Is that enough incentive for you to never do it again?"

"I did have twenty-four hours of complete peace, though," Art said jokingly.

Reid scoffed, though it was light-hearted. "Was it worth it? I turned into a whole different person in that time. You don't even know me anymore."

Art gave a snort, slinging an arm around Reid's shoulders as they walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. "Hopefully the person you became is more agreeable."

"Hey!" Reid elbowed him.

Art winced dramatically. "I guess not."

Cass was standing at the kitchen counter, pouring milk into her coffee. "Good morning," she whispered. Art raised his eyebrows, and Cass indicated a closed bedroom door in explanation. "Sullivan's still sleeping."

"Oh," Reid said with a nod. "Okay."

"Are you coming to the... rally thing?" Cass asked, waving a hand in the air.

"Yeah," Reid replied.

"Awesome," Cass said. "You can hear me give your speech." She pointed to a few pieces of paper, on which the speech was written.

"Can I read it?" Art asked, already reaching for the speech.

Reid snatched the papers away, holding them to his chest. "No."

Art frowned. "Why not?"

Because, Reid thought to himself, what if you think I'm really bad? What if you think it's horrible? Reid's writing was something he loved and cherished. If someone whose opinion he valued as highly as Art's were to tell him that it was unsatisfactory, Reid didn't know how he would come back from that.

"You'll hear it today," Cass said to fill the awkward silence.

"Alright," Art said. Reid felt Art's eyes on him, but ignored them as he stacked the papers neatly on the coffee table in a connected room.
After breakfast, Art joined him on the balcony. "You were awfully weird about the speech earlier," Art commented. Reid said nothing. Art sighed, shifting his weight beside Reid. "I'm sorry if I did something to upset you. I just wanted to read it."

"You didn't do anything," Reid replied. "It's just... it's personal, you know? My writing is personal."

There was a flash of annoyance in Art's eyes, but it went away as quick as it appeared. "Cass and July have seen you write. And they've read what you've written," Art pointed out. "Why not me?"