madcarnival:please, dont just disappear! againarthur trying to apologise and vivi keeping lewis from

madcarnival:please, dont just disappear! againarthur trying to apologise and vivi keeping lewis from decapitating him fff love that dynamic aaaa “Lewis, no— ” Vivi shouts over the sound of glass shattering, but the skeleton-ghost ignores her, turning his gaze into Arthur, still half-cornered against the wall. “You did this to me.” the skull grinds out, and steps forward. Vivi cries out in warning, standing with her palms forward like a matador. “I won’t let you!” she shouts, until Lewis physically forces her back and takes the breath out of her with a ooph. Lewis takes no notice, closing the distance by bracing her until she’s just between them, trying to force him back. If they were all human Lewis would (probably) have budged, but he’s dead and right now he’s implacable as a glacier, a pure force of spectral intent barely contained by the perfectly tailored suit he was buried in. Vivi is still speaking, something about reconciliation and misunderstandings and the look in Lewis’s eyes as he never once breaks eye contact with Arthur somehow speaks for more than he ever could about what he thinks of that.  Arthur’s metal arm comes up to shield his face, the other convulsively fumbling towards Vivi’s shoulder in a ways that he hopes conveys the duality of fear and resignation that’s taken over him ever since they came back to the mansion. She doesn’t remember what he did — hell, he barely remembers what he did, but that’s no excuse to the man who he did it to. When she doesn’t seem to get it, he shakes her shoulder quietly to stop her from saying anything that could make it worse. The tendons ball taut where they’re trying to push Lewis away, and Arthur’s knuckles aren’t much better. His mouth goes dry as Lewis’s fleshless skull turns his head and locks onto him properly as if there’s nothing else between them (and there isn’t because Lewis will hunt him down to the ends of the earth, he’s made that perfectly clear), eyes alight with violet flame. The locket heart on his breast pocket is a constant blinking metronome, pulsing like a heartbeat, and Arthur freezes as Lewis’s fleshless hand breaks its soundless ticking, curling towards them with a audible snap. “No,” Vivi whispers, and she’s muffled because her face is pressed into the suit jacket but her tone is perfectly clear, and Arthur internally agrees as he meets Lewis’s furious gaze but his fingers still tighten warningly on the cloth when one hand comes up. He isn’t ready for the bone fingers brusquely thumbing down the pulse point to his collarbone. Arthur gasps, but his chin automatically tilts up to meet Lewis’s touch, inadvertently granting him access as he rucks down Arthur’s shirt in a forceful show of power. He’s barely conscious of his mouth dropping open, hyperfocused as he is on the raw unpredictability of Lewis’s fingers. Something in Lewis’s mad eyes shifts just a bit as he glares at Arthur, and something spectral wisps over the bone in a susurrus of flame. When he’s reformed, Arthur is staring into the face of his once-best-friend, Lewis’s incorporeal lips parted in a snarl in the inverse of Arthur’s gasp.Arthur isn’t exactly conscious of himself doing this. The hand presses under the bone hard enough to already show the beginnings of a bruise, but Arthur can only stand there and take it, his face reddening as he tilts his head further back to accommodate Lewis’s touch. Vivi’s hands scrabble at the suit jacket as Lewis’s chest propels her backwards, her torso bumping into Arthur’s hip. “P-please.” Arthur whimpers, and flushes even brighter, but Lewis takes no notice, his head steady even as his hand trails up, scraping against the wildly beating pulse-point and trails past the golden bristle of hair from jaw to hairline before doing an abrupt about-turn. Arthur’s breathing hitches as Lewis strokes down his chest before jamming a thumb into the space between the fourth and fifth ribs, twisting and prodding. Lewis’s expression is still a scowl, but it’s almost habitual now, the same involuntary response from every time he looks over at Arthur. He seems almost fascinated by every soft part of Arthur’s body, circling a scar from an automobile accident three times before letting it go. Arthur can feel himself trembling underneath the thin shirt, but consciously keeps himself nothing less but perfectly still in response to everything Lewis is doing to him. He doesn’t ever dare look away. -- source link
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