You were tired.
More than tired, actually. Your feet were about to drop off, having done more than several hours of walking, doing more and more sightseeing and shopping.
It was indeed because of this tiredness that you had little energy left to question why Arthur had a key to a penthouse suite in one of the best hotels in the very heart of London, or how he was managing to carry both you and your twenty or so bags of... Things, varying from designer clothes to knicknacks (you had lost count of the overall amount of bags).
You manage to keep your eyes open, and it also seems you both have the energy to keep on laughing and giggling, even as he slumps your body down on the suite’s king-size bed. You haven’t laughed this much in a long time, nor felt this happy or content or...
This was the best day ever. Period.
You manage to somehow say this to him, and thank him for it. For it was him who had made the whole experience possible. It was him who paid for all your things, all the attractions, told you every last funny anecdote about world war two Britain and the Dad’s Army and just made everything absolutely amazing.
But then, as he says the obvious reply of “You’re welcome, dear.”, you catch an odd, off and sober sadness in those jade eyes. You remember that you’re dying and that everything done today would have been for nothing.
And soon, those giggles transform into sobs. From both of you.
Sobbing, however, does have an advantage and a drawback. The advantage being the hugs and comfort that comes with it, as you suddenly find yourself embraced by the absolutely fabulous gentleman. And the drawback being the extreme feeling of tiredness and fatigue, multiplied by the yawns you had already experienced.
You however, find yourself determined to stay awake for as long as you possibly can. You cannot waste your precious time, which is slipping out of your hands, second by precious second. You cannot waste your time with Arthur by just... Sleeping! It seems dumb! Moronic!
However, as he lays down beside you, you cannot help but to close your eyes and relish in the relief this brings you before snapping them back open again.
He notices your efforts, and quickly grips your hand.
“Do you trust me?”
You’re confused. “...Yeah. I guess. I mean... I’ not sure why, but you’re pretty amazing for a guy I met less than a day ago. And... I like you.”
He looks almost shocked for a second, then delighted, then... Puzzled. You’re about to ask for what was on his mind, but he breaks the silence, then with a stroke to your forehead tells you to just got to sleep.
You protest at this, wondering why he’d tell you to do so, but he begins to softly move his hand up and down your forehead. It’s strangely calming, and he seems to know what he is doing, so you quiet down and begin to drift away.
However, just as you are about to completely fall asleep, you begin to hear his whispering. It’s chant-like, completely quiet and under his breath. You cannot tell what he is saying, but he seems to be concentrating hard and since the sound of his voice is oddly soothing, you lack the energy to enquire about it, so you are left to your own thoughts.
You begin to drift away again.
And as you do so, you think about your life.
Considering it is your last day on earth, you are surprisingly calm as you think about your demise.
Good fucking Lord, does your life suck. It’s so null, void and empty...
Except for today. Today was amazing. Today was fantastic.
It was vibrant. Interesting. Colourful.
Like him. Like his eyes.
Shame about the lack of tomorrow, right?