Arlo's Got Problems

We fucked up.

That same scenario runs through his head over and over on repeat the entire walk home, and it was bad enough that he was out of cigs or else he'd be turning to crying or something.

It's all he's thinking.

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘴 𝘥𝘰, 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘵. 𝘛𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘺 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘢, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘐 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵. 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵, 𝘈𝘭𝘳𝘰. 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘬𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴? 𝘈 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘵?

Sighing, he drags his feet over and over to get home with a deep pout and frown on his lips. He just wants to go home. He doesn't want this lifestyle anymore. Not the fame or... not the fame it brings. He's not happy. It's doesn't feel right to be here, controlling and being supposed to look after people when he can't even look after himself. Twenty eight years old and he can't even do that: take care of himself. It's pathetic.

__

Opening the door to he and Manjusha's shared.. apartment(?), he drags himself inside with slumped shoulders and a pout. Making the smart decision to at least close the door before slowly trudging his way to the kitchen after stopping by the couch and grabbing a blanket to tightly wrap around himself like his mom used to - But it's /his/ blanket, his worn to softness, rocket blanket that nobody else can touch, not even Manny- before trudding all the way to the fridge. Cool-aid seems like the only thing Manjusha will let him drink these days, after what happened.. he doesn't think the scar will fade. But at least it wasn't all that bad.. right? Right-?

But a loud clatter coming from his bedroom tears him out of his thought, already in a bad enough mood given today, not to mention that he's all out of red cool aid.

Taking in a sharp and shakey breath -don't fucking cry, you pussy- he waddles a little closer to where the sound had come from. His upset pout quickly gone when hearing the commotion, just to be replaced by a scared kid. Arlo may be an odd 6ft something, but helped by the day he's had with all the sounds, bright coulors and lights, he though it was safe enough for him to put his gaurd down even just for a little bit. But he was wrong. He's always wrong.

So instead of walking closer, he quietly whimpers to himself. Stood frozen in the middle of the kitchen with a kids blanket wrapped tight around him and unshed tears in his eyes, he watches as what made the loud sound walks out of his room.. he can't move from the spot he's in, there's so many monsters it could be..

𝘧𝘶- 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵, 𝘔𝘴. 𝘉𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘥-

And oh.

It's.... Dave.

"Ah- shit. I /seriously/ need to ask Arlo what the hell that is-"

Oh.

Of all people, It's Dave who has to see a scared, younger looking Arlo stood terrified in his kitchen. Eyes glasses over with what could be tears, or just that childlike way his eyes get when seeing something particular. Not that he'd know exactly, but he's seen it first hand, and yep- okay. He's crying.

"Uh, shit, hey man. It's- hey, it's okay. I wasn't trying to rob you guys-" and, okay. Internally he's cursing himself for not parking his car out front, but he didn't know this would happen, okay??? He wad just trying to do something kind, and..

____________

"I am NOT doing that, are you kidding me??? Look, Sasha-"

"No, Dave, shut UP. /You/ are going to fix this, and /you/ are going to cheer him up if it costs you fucking everything just because I can't be there for him. You're basically like an older brother to Arlo" Sasha exclaims while looking at Dave through her glammed out mirror, trying to get 'these damn lashes on-'

"I have known him for two MONTHS! How does that make me- I'm just not. That guy fucking hates me and I'm not going to go babysit him because he can't take care of himself"

And oh did that hit something in Sacha.

Tightening the grip on her tweazers, Sasha visibly shakes in anger with a glare as she turns in her stool. Trying and failing to fully control herself as she stands up, dropping her prized tweazers and poking Dave hard in the chest when face to face.

"Arlo is, /NOT/ a fucking child" she grits, voice thinly avoiding the tone of pure murder before continuing.

"That boy has been through so fucking much just to be here, and don't think for a /second/ that he's keeping you here out of pity and not because he's the sweetest fucking person you'll ever meet. That 'Manchild' is who's giving you a fucking job and you're going to help him when I can't. Say no one more fucking time and you can see what it's like being in a coma for twenty years. Got it?" she says lowly through gritted teeth as she looks Dave dead in the eye. Shit she's gotten closer-

"Yes. Yeah- I- I've got it. Got it." He says with shaken breath and a stiff nod acompanied with a tight smile to sell that he knows Sasha's being seriously, and that he much appreciates being alive once she mentioned it.

And with that, she nods and steps back enough for Dave to realise he needs to breath. Not realising he'd been holding his breath.

"Good. You better make sure he's okay, I'm not fucking kidding /Dave/." Sasha spits as she backs up, putting on a fake smile after checking her hair in the mirror and throwing the thin strap of her bag over he shoulder. Spitting out his name like it was some sort of poison she didn't want on her breath anymore.